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] The stranger sitting next to you waiting for the bus asks, "So- what's REALLY bothering you"?	[ "\"Good question\" I replied. \"You see, I have been riding this same bus to work for 8 years, and the traffic gets worse every year. What used to be a 35 minute ride now takes close to an hour. I wish that some of these people would find somewhere else to live, or maybe take the train or something instead.\". The kind old stranger gave a knowing smile and told me that it's not so bad, if I stop and think about it for a minute. And so I did. I remembered that the sun is shining today, and I have dinner plans with my wife later on in the evening at that Italian place that we love.\n\nWhen the bus driver announced the next stop, I thought heard a sad, yet oddly familiar voice saying through the loudspeaker \"Oh my poor sweet Pappy, Nanna isn't around anymore; she left us 8 years ago, remember?\". Something about that made me want to burst into tears, but then I remembered that today was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, and I had dinner plans with my wife that evening at that Italian place that we love. I smiled at the kind old stranger and thanked him for cheering me up. Then, I decided to close my eyes and nap for the rest of the ride.", "\"I don't know exactly. I can't shake this feeling that I have forgotten something important. Not like 'I left the iron on' important, but more that I forgot to live my life while I had the chance. Once you start earning money, and the bills start to roll in, it's hard to break from the monotony of everyday life, don't you think? It all becomes routine, you don't even think about it until years have passed, you're closing in on 30, sure you have money in the bank, but buying things has never truly made me happy. I've always wanted to see the world, delve head first into cultures I've never heard of, and, as lame as it sounds, I want to experience all the food this good earth has to offer! Fuck it! I'm quitting my job, thank you so much, I'll look out for you when I return from my travels, whenever that's going to be. Thank you so so much.\"\n\nJeff stood up, poured the documents and papers from his bag into a nearby bin and walked back in the direction from which he came.\n\nThe man at the bus stop pulled the bluetooth headset out of his ear, confused as to who the man next to him had been talking to, and why he had emptied his belongings into a bin. He looked around to see if anyone had witnessed the odd scene that had just played out before him before affixing his phone back to his ear.\n\n\"Sorry, you were saying...\"", "\"So... What's really bothering you?\"\n\n\"Huh?\"\n\nThe stranger's voice broke the silence. He looked at her, inquisitive, his light blue eyes somehow exuding kindness. It made her feel uncomfortable.\n\n\"Excuse me?\" she asked.\n\nHe shrugged.\n\n\"Something's bothering you. I wanna know what.\"\n\nAn array of answers popped into her mind: 'who are you?', 'what's it to you?', 'why do you want to know?', 'what the fuck?'. None of them were what flew out of her mouth.\n\n\"Yeah, I guess.\"\n\nHe frowned and smiled at the same time. It was odd.\n\n\"It's about a girl,\" he said.\n\n\"What?\"\n\nShe felt heat creep up her neck and onto her cheeks, and she couldn't help but stare at him with a dumb look on her face. She stammered for a bit, but nothing intelligible made it out of her mouth. The stranger smiled again.\n\n\"It's okay.\"\n\nSomething about the tone of his voice sent a calming chill through her spine. She let herself lay against the back of the bench, her gaze sliding up to the skies, and let out a long sigh.\n\n\"I... It's the distance, you know?\"\n\nShe felt he did.\n\n\"And not just physical. Emotional as well,\" she added.\n\nShe saw him nod from the corner of her eye. She took it as permission to go on.\n\n\"I don't know what to do with all this love I can't express.\"\n\nShe closed her eyes.\n\n\"Yeah. I guess that's it. I'm in love.\"\n\nShe waited for an answer. When it didn't come, she opened her eyes, but he was gone. She had a bitter smile when she felt the tears trace their path on her cheeks." ]	3
	[WP] A man can stop time at will. One day he freezes time but sees someone else moving.	[ "It was a wisp in the corner of my eye. Just a flicker. That sort of thing where it's normally a fleck of dust passing by but you think it's a person, or a shifting shadow to the wind. A trick of refracting light. But you see, that's the thing.\n\nWhen time's stopped, there are no shifting shadows.\n\nI'll be honest, I jumped. Time jolted, moved a fraction of an inch. Like watching a movie where you blink really fast.\n\nI mean. I can fucking stop time. Not exactly a thing where there's a whole lotta movement. Sure, I've done the fun stuff, thrown things and watch them freeze when they leave my hand. Unfreeze rain drops as I ran through them, watching light glimmer through them like stars shining. My own little embers. Hell, I would take hours, throwing books into the sky, watch them freeze, then climb them into the clouds.\n\nI've danced on fireworks, drawn dicks on waterfalls. I once stopped time and followed the sun, round the world. Watched the sunrise shift in shades and hues and it traversed its lonely path.\n\nAnd never once has anyone moved.\n\nShe was young, cute. But scared, running across each street, looking both ways. Like me in the beginning, back when I didn't have enough focus and time could start randomly when I lost it. Running out of time. I chuckled at my little joke. Well, she seemed friendly enough. A female time stopper? Count me in. No time like the present, eh? Eh? Come on, that was funny, dammit.\n\nBut I made my way down the street. It seemed weird, actually following someone, trying to reach them. I'm used to setting up the situation, always swoop in and save the girl, ask her to pay me back by allowing me to take them for coffee. Most girls dig the chivalry. This girl, I was flustered, confused.\n\nWho was she? Why wasn't she frozen? Was she new at this? How long had she been able to stop time? Fuck. Breathe. Breathe.\n\n\"H-hey!\" Hey? Fucking Hey? THAT'S what I go with? Fuck. Scrape this together \"Do you have a minute?\" Saved it!\n\nShe turned at me, eyes wild, face lost. Her mouth was actually agape. Didn't know that was actually a thing. Weird. \n\nStunned, she stopped. Saw me standing there, smiling - and I was looking incredibly charming, mind you.\n\n\"You!\" She yelled. She ran at me. Damn, I mean. A bit forward on her part, but I can work with it. Charging right at me, me being all charming - with my hand outstretched like a motherfucking gentleman. But before I could even introduce myself she reaches me, draws her hand back - in what I was assuming a fist bump - and slugs me. Right in the face. Hard. \n\nKnocks me out cold.\n\nFucking hell.", "Max is bored. He's doing what he usually does when he's bored, and is wandering through the train station next to his house while everyone else is frozen in time. He knows he's only prolonging his day, but he won't keep everyone frozen for long. He reaches into a man's half-eaten bag of chips and pulls out one for himself.\n\nHe finds a girl who's frozen, pen held above a notebook. He wiggles the journal out of her hands and flips through it absent-mindedly. It's poetry, mostly. He feels his own cheeks burn as he remembers the kind of drivel he wrote at her age. He pushes it back to its place and watches as it flips to the appropriate page on its own.\n\nHe keeps walking. The cash register at the pretzel shop is wide open, but he's stopped taking petty cash like that. It would gnaw on his conscience at night, keeping him awake far longer than he wanted to be. Instead, he reaches into a cup of mini bites a customer had just purchased and pops one into his mouth.\n\nMax walks towards the tracks. It was better to be already on the train when time started moving again. He hated having to push through the crowds to board, hated fighting for a seat, the \"oh, no, please, you sit\" fake politeness he found himself using when others were about.\n\nOn the train, he takes a spot next to the window. Max is about to start time running again when it catches his eye - a movement. He almost misses it. It's far away, across three tracks, down at the opposite end his train is at. But when the entire world is frozen, movement is a lot easier to notice. He presses his face against the window. His breath fogs the glass.\n\nIt's a girl. Skipping. Max doesn't know what to do. The girl skips closer. His heart is pounding in his chest. Closer. He can feel a drop of sweat make a path down his back. Closer still.\n\nWhen the girl has closed the distance by half, she stops. Max is pressed fully against the window now, hands around the glass, nose pressed uncomfortably. This is not right. The girl turns slightly, so she's looking towards him. She puts up one hand and waves, each finger moving in turn. Max ducks instinctively. \n\nIt's impossible, he whispers to himself. He pulls himself back up and looks out. The girl is gone. It feels like he can barely breath. And then, all of a sudden, time starts again. \n\nHe stops breathing completely in his shock, just for a few seconds. He hadn't started time again. It had just started. This had never happened before. Max looks around wildly. Something was wrong. Someone else had started time again. It wasn't possible. And yet. He looks back out the window for the girl." ]	2
	[WP]Everytime a man kills someone, he saves the lives of ten others.	[ "The morality of the Church of the Greater Good was a controversy amongst modern society. The leader of the group was Father Foster. A man who had preached consequential philosophies for his entire life, but only after a recent display has gained equal levels of praise and criticism. Some call it a hoax but the majority of the population knows what they had seen was real. Foster himself had kidnapped ten random people and starved them till they were near death. Then went live after hijacking a major news channel to display his powers. On the screen millions witnessed a man with casually running through his experiment. With him was someone who he identified as a friend who was visibly gaunt, and described himself as near death from cancer. The cancerous man explained the details of his situation. He was relatively close to death and the life waiting for him on a miraculous survival was bleak. He was ready to die and Foster was here to save him, as well as the ten others. At that moment he turned the camera away to save the public eye from the grotesque images and proceeded to kill his friend by the means of a bullet to his brain. We then proceeded to see him quickly run over to his tripod camera and pointed it at the cage of starving individuals. \"Look, look!\" he repeated as the proceeding image showed us the ten caged humans miraculously beginning to regain their previously healthful body conditions. Their faces became fuller, and their half naked bodies became to swell up. Foster had successfully saved all of his victims from starving to death.\n\nAfter his display he was arrested, but his spot in the public eye remained. The ten victims responses to what happened varied. With some of them following him and praising him for his godlike ability, and others feeling confused and angered with the conditions they were kept in for some time. This added to his legitimacy as initially reports from the media issued his stunt as a magic trick. More and more believed in his power after it was confirmed his friend was actually dead. As well as that, sit downs with major interviews presented Foster as wildly intelligent and divine. Around the same time a group called the Church of the Greater Good formed. Not only did they believe in the powers of Foster but they also demanded for his release as he could help others. Their main claim was that he was the ultimate euthanasia doctor, and he could help save more people like they did his friend. \n\nDespite the push for his release Foster still remains locked up. He was sentenced for life but continues to preach his abilities behind bars. Many well-respected politicians are even debating for his usage in serious situations. More and more public figures are giving his actions praise and that we should work with the man, while others fear what harm he could cause and what other powers he could have. What will become of Foster still remains unknown, but with the rising number of supporters we could see his release soon enough... ", "Frank Bagsly sat in the interrogation room, smiling happily to himself. He’d finally done it. All the name calling, all the little injustices, all the evil whispers when they thought he wasn’t looking. Well now he’d gone and shown them! He’d shown them all!\n\nHe could see tomorrow’s headlines now. “A bloody rampage,” they’d call it. “A ruthless killing spree by a sadly deranged mind.” Oh, it had been sweet. The feel of the gun as he fired into the crowd. The screams of terror as the pathetic sheep all scattered for their lives, tripping over each other to escape his reign of vengeance. For three minutes, Frank Bagsly had been a god.\n\nHe hadn’t even bothered running when the police arrived. He’d proven his point. The people in this rotten town would all think twice before pushing another little guy around. They’d seen the monster that lurked just beneath the surface. Even as he was being dragged off to the station, they’d known that they’d come face to face with death.\n\nFrank was still reminiscing when a haggard-looking detective entered the room carrying a thick manila folder. “Sorry for the wait, Frank. My name is Detective Simmons. Can I get you anything before we start? A coffee, maybe? Some cigarettes?”\n\nFrank sneered. “There’s no need for ‘good cop bad cop’ here. You’ve got a town square full of witnesses that’ll never forget my face. I killed all those people, and I’m not the slightest bit sorry. Let’s just get this over with.”\n\nThe detective sat down, dropping the folder on the table with a thud. “Well… about that.” He opened the cover, revealing a crime-scene photo of Frank’s first victim. “Let’s start with him,” he said, sliding it across the table so Frank could see. “Do you recognize this man?”\n\nFrank nodded, grinning with excitement. This was going to be fun! “Why yes detective, I do! I shot that man in cold blood about eight hours ago. His brains sprayed out the back of his head and covered the lady behind him.” He smirked at Simmons. “Nice picture, by the way. Can I keep it?”\n\nThe detective frowned. “Wait… you’re saying you didn’t know who he was?”\n\nFrank laughed. “Nope! Just picked him out’a the crowd! Does that shock you, detective? Do I need a motive to fit into your perfect little world?”\n\n“Well, no,” said Detective Simmons. “It’s just that this man was a wanted religious fanatic.” He pushed across a second photograph, this one of the victim’s chest. His large black jacket had been cut open, revealing a vest of home-made explosives. “The FBI was closing in on him when you opened fire. Apparently he was on his way to blowing up the local stripclub. You probably saved quite a lot of people, Mr. Bagsly.”\n\nFrank sputtered for a moment. “I didn’t, but...” He shook himself. “Whatever! That was an accident, and you know it. What about the others, huh? You telling me that soccer mom was a suicide bomber, too?”\n\n“Actually,” said Simmons, holding up a bloody note inside a plastic evidence bag, “She was a schoolteacher. She was carrying this suicide note when she died, along with an illegally-purchased 9mm pistol. The way the note is written, it seems like she was planning on taking half her class out with her when she went.”\n\n“Oh come on!” shouted Frank. He looked up at the ceiling, trying to recall the morning’s murder spree. “Okay, um… That little old lady driving the volkswagon! There was an innocent victim if I ever saw one. Shot her right in the chest while she was waiting at a stop light. Whaddya got on her, eh?”\n\nThe detective shuffled through his papers for a moment, then pushed another picture across the table. In it, an old woman in a shawl lay slumped against a steering wheel. “Madame Le’Cruel. Serial poisoner with countless victims to her name. We found at least ten lethal doses of cyanide in her purse, and a spare key to the local homeless kitchen.” \n\nFrank barked out a desperate laugh. “And--and what, that’s supposed to make it all better? I shot nine people, man!” His shouting had grown manic, now. Flecks of spittle flew across the table as he spoke, and his eyes swept frantically around the room. “I’m Frank Bagsly, dammit! A bloody murder! A born killer! And if you let me out, I’ll… I’ll do it all again!”\n\nDetective Simmons scratched his head, looking over the list of remaining victims. “Honestly, Frank… I'm beginning to think that isn't such a bad idea.”\n", "Another one asked \"why\" last night, and I gave him the same answer I've given them all, \"I'm saving lives.\"\n\nIt's hard to live a killer's life, but I consider myself a savior more than a murderer. I save lives, that's what I do. I don't know how or why it happens, but every time I lay waste to another person, ten or so others end up living somehow. \n\nLike right now, if I were to walk up to that man at the end of the bar and slit his throat, ten people, somewhere, would be saved. Maybe a man on life support waking up and living a normal life, maybe a child facing down a speeding car would float into the air and not be roadkill, or maybe someone with cancer would miraculously be cured. \n\nI never know the ones I saved, but I do know the ones I've killed. I try to be pickiest as possible, picking the worst and scummiest humans alive: pedophiles, serial killers, child molesters, rapists, just real assholes, ones that don't deserve to live as much as the next guy.\n\nBut there has been cases that lead to some trouble. One time I was tailing this local pedophile, real dickhead, and eventually I caught up with him in an alleyway. He was short, bald, wore glasses, and was wearing a white puffy sweater over a soft blue shirt. He was scared, almost crying, begging me not to hurt him, that he'd pay whatever I want or provide me with services that only he could provide.\n\nI shoved him against the wall, pushed him down onto the wet concrete, pulled a pistol out form underneath my jacket, and placed the barrel onto his forehead. A waterfall of tears poured from his eyes as he continued to beg, then he offered something I wouldn't consider taking in a thousand lifetimes, I remember it vividly, \"I'll give you my collection! Hundreds, no thousands, of photos and videos of young girls, ages between seven and ten! You could do whatever you want with them! Burn them, eat them, I don't care, just don't kill me! I'll stop, I promise, I'll stop going after them if you let me live!\"\n\nWithout a reply, I pulled the trigger and blood splattered across the walls, some drizzling down the cement onto the ground. When I turned and went to walk away, a white light filled the way, and when I looked to see what it was, it was the man, breathing, staring at me, the bullet in his hand. I'll tell you what, I looked like I saw a ghost, my eyes were so wide you'd though you were looked at two moons.\n\nBut, he didn't last long after that. I was more pissed off when he tried to get up, so I put a whole clip into him, and stood by for a few minutes to make sure he wasn't waking up.\n\nNow you see, that this thing that happens doesn't make too much sense. It's random, I'd guess, luck of the draw you could say.\n\nAnyway, that's my story, believe it or not. Here, I'll pay the tab, let's get going, there's been this one jackass I've been following for months now, and I finally have him where I want him, if you know what I'm saying." ]	3
	[WP] Where do the gods go when they die?	[ "My aeons in this plane cease. I leave this body & my endless dominion for a greater task. It is true that I, Ruler of the Void & the Stars, lay dying. The one you called Horus is to fault. In the coming Age, I will emerge. My presence will go unfelt by the masses as I return the Void That Was, the formless energy nursery from before existence, but I will persist. Seek favor with any god but Horus until my return. I take another of your gods with me to harvest for my brood. The energies of the Harvest Mother will serve to cradle our children. As I rest my spirit I will raise new gods to consume Horus. As one child serves as my conduit, I will return. Horus will fall.", "Gods die, and that is a fact.\n\nMaybe they don't have funerals where their loved ones gather to cry and tell amusing stories about the deceased and maybe they don't get old and forgetful, but they do die. Their lives end and as most people, they don't want them to.\nThe major difference between us and Them, omnipotence aside, is that they know how and when they'll die.\nIt happens the moment they are born... Well not born, thrust into existence. \nAnd it's not as if they are told a blow dryer will short circuit in the bath, as much as they are given a deadline. A non-negotiable one.\n\nAt the end of it they all scream and kick like children, causing floods, fires, hailstorms and earthquakes, pleading for just a decade more. Remembering all the times they went down to Earth, disguised as peasants and kings, playing tricks on people and inevitably falling in love. \nThere is something about those raven haired villagers that make gods go crazy.\n\nThe invisible hand pulls them out of life the same way it pushed them into it.\nIt pulls them back into a state of nothing, where all past gods are and all future ones await for their turn. It isn't all black or all white, it just is and isn't at the same time. \nPresences float around, unable to do anything. Sometimes they recognize the other ones, the destroyers and the creators. They are usually the ones that are \ntalked about the most.\n\nGods die, and that is a fact. All that is left of them is written word, a couple of hymns and if they are lucky, a statue or a temple. They continue on being until the books rot away and the constructions fall to the dust and dirt.\nAll that is left for them, from that point forward, is to wait with their memories for their turn to play.\n", "The day has come\n\nAnd a God must go\n\n\"What happens when I die?\"\n\nFor he does not know. \n\n\nPerish, he will\n\nAnd go off into the dark \n\nFalling forever now \n\nAnd that ends his spark. \n\n\nAfter it all, he awakes, screaming\n\nhears laughter, sounds of joy. \n\nA man in white, holds you close \n\n\"Welcome to earth, little boy.\"" ]	3
	[WP] It's the future. After brain-machine interfaces, came brain-to-brain interfaces, and true hive minds began to appear and permeate society. 99.9% of them are completely harmless. But every few years, an anomaly occurs...	[ "Unofficially they were known as ‘Stutter-Bugs’ since they were a glitch, like a stutter, in the collective that would cause it to blow the fuses in the brain, shutting everything down. This lead to one of two possible scenarios: everyone went unconscious, or everything devolved into some sort of cannibal love-fest as the brain slowly melted out their ears. \n\nIf you went unconscious, you had a 41% chance of going completely brain-dead, and a 10% chance of dying. If you went cannibal love-fest, well, I’m fairly certain that bite marks are not love holes if you catch my drift. It’s like the base instincts of ‘feed’ and ‘reproduce’ get all muddled up and people start fucking and eating everything in sight, with everything else falling to the wayside.\n\nSo it was with some distaste that I got a call from my Chief about a possible Charlie-Lima Stutter-Bug incident over on the university’s campus. Fortunately for us, it had occurred in an enclosed space, and a repeat of the Cannibal Club Incident of 2211 was not repeated. That was my first Stutter-Bug case, and my worst nightmare; having to sort through 30 bodies of people who just happened to be in the wrong club at the wrong time.\n\nI was greeted at the door by Private Hollins, who opened it for me.\n\n“What do we have, Hollins?” I asked casually, shucking my raincoat off and trying to keep my voice calm. I was in no way interested in showing just how much brain-diving disturbed me. True, some of the greatest discoveries of our time were made by the hive-mind of a brain-dive; it still didn’t mean I had to like it.\n\n“Eight victims, Lieutenant; five male, three female. Looks like they were trying to sort out a homework assignment,” Hollins said with a slight hitch in his voice.\n\nGod, I thought to myself, it must be really nasty in there. “What project,” I asked casually, trying to keep my own discomfort from showing.\n\n“Some sort of proto-A.I. for their programming class. Level 1a at the highest,” he said pulling out a notebook and flipping through it. Pen and paper, very archaic, but much more secure than a computer network. Police information storage had slowly devolved back into more archaic means in order to preserve it from the media’s private hacking teams.\n\nI cocked an eyebrow, “So, basic speech functions and memory capability?”\n\n“Yes, Sir,” Hollins said. “We already tried asking it questions, but the damage it incurred was too great.”\n\nDamage? I thought to myself. I was almost too afraid to ask. “What damage?”\n\nHollins swallowed hard and put his notebook away. “Well, Sir, they cut holes—that is to say that, during the frenzy, they—“ \n\nHe looked like he was about to be sick so I raised my hand to silence him. “I think I get the picture, Hollins. Maybe we can get something out of it, maybe not, who knows? That’s the tech’s job.” I paused in fake-thought for a moment, really just delaying looking at the bodies, when an actual question occurred to me, “Has anyone contacted Serana Global?”\n\nHollins frowned and pulled his notepad back out, “It looks like Sergeant Miller contacted them two hours ago about the incident. They agreed to look into it, Code 3 Expediency was accepted.”\n\nI nodded, “Hopefully they’ll have something for us this time. These brain-dive cases are getting more frequent.”\n\n“Two cases in the last twelve months, excluding this one, Sir,” Hollins said, checking his notepad. “Approximately a 22% increase since the first incident 6 years ago.” I sighed, deciding that I could no longer put off the inevitable. I motioned for Hollins to lead me to the crime scene, and steeled myself for what I knew I would find.\n\nThe first thing that always hits you from a Stutter-Bug incident is the smell. That’s one thing the media won’t tell you about, since no one wants to hear that. It’s this horrible combination of sex and blood that mixes together into something wholly unique and horrifying. I had worked on two other Charlie-Lima Stutter-Bug cases since the first incident, and it only gets worse each time. \n\nWorking one of these cases was right of passage into the upper echelon of respect and admiration amongst the police force. Few people had the stomach to be able to handle it, and fewer still were able to handle it more than once. I was one of the unlucky bastards that could easily control my gag-reflex, so I got put on the cases more often than the others.\n\nThe room looked like it had been ransacked like an old-school robbery-homicide case. Tables turned over, machinery smashed, the window busted, and eight dead bodies in various stages of undress strewn all over the room. The one thing that separated it from a robbery-homicide was that nothing obvious was missing, and no robber would manufacture so many crude, and obviously dangerous, sex-toys.\n\nThree of the males seemed to have ripped each other apart, and I watched the tech’s sort through which body part belonged to which body. Two of the other males were mostly intact except for the obvious bite marks and holes. The three females had it the worst, looking more like they had been ravaged by wild dogs than by five overly-testosterone fueled males. If it hadn’t been for the fact that two of them were obviously in the middle of pleasuring each other when they died, I would have assumed they were unlucky bystanders.\n\nSquatting down I examined each body in turn, taking mental photographs for later. Not much was known as to the cause of the Stutter-Bug, and so any piece of information about why it was set off would be helpful. That was my job once again, to try and figure out why this happened. We didn’t need to find a murderer; we needed to find a cause, a link.\n\n“All eight were using Serana Global brain-dive technology,” Hollins said behind me. “The tech’s are in the process of extracting their memory cores to see what we can find.”\n\nI looked over at a tech carefully pulling a glowing blue chip out of one of the victims and inserting it into a reader. Sure, we trusted Serana Global to tell us all about their technology in the same way we trusted the media to never skew our reports towards some agenda. We had finally developed our own readers just a few months ago, so this was being used as a test-run to see their effectiveness.\n\n“So the egg-heads over in R and D came up with those? What are we hoping they’ll tell us?” I asked already knowing the answer. Mostly I was just giving Hollins a chance to talk and take his mind off the scene in front of us.\n\n“Well, Sir, the chips keep a log of all thoughts and memories during the brain-dive so that they can be accessed later for use,” Hollins said, seemingly grateful for the excuse to examine his notepad. “The readers will hopefully tell us exactly what was going through the minds of each of the students before the cann—“ he coughed, “Before the incident occurred.”\n\nI nodded my head and stood. One of the techs looked like they were finishing up something, and the look of confusion on their face told me they had something useful. I walked over to him and gently coughed. He turned, to look at me, and the confusion on his face only deepened, which told me he had something really good.\n\n“Lieutenant, how familiar are you with these chips?” he asked.\n\n“They allow the brains to interface with each other; something about brain-waves and techno-babble. I know enough to know that it’s science, and not magic, that makes them work,” I said letting my ignorance fly freely. I had never really learned how they worked as I never had to analyze them.\n\nThe tech nodded, “Well, each chip has specific programming in it for specific processes, just like any computer. So, just like any computer, it has a shut-down sequence.”\n\nI nodded my head, grateful that he was dumbing it down, and urged him to continue.\n\n“In order for a shut-down sequence to be initiated, all running programs have to be terminated. Severe brain damage has occurred before when a chip was accidentally shut down, and there are safety protocols in place to prevent this,” he said as he poked through the readouts from the chip.\n\n“So what you’re saying is,” I said turning to look at the bodies, “Their chips were shut down during the brain-dive?”\n\n“I’m saying it’s possible,” the tech said, “But I won’t know more until I do a further analysis. What I can say, however, is that only 1 chip appears to have been forcibly shut down.”\n\nI cocked my head at that, “Only 1?”\n\nThe tech nodded, “Yes, sir, just 1 chip. It apparently caused some sort of cascade that drug the others down with it. I’m guessing a by-product of the brain-dive.”\n\nI turned and looked around the room. Why hadn’t Serana Global figured that out? Last time we had talked to them they said that there were no abnormalities with the chips after we had sent them off to be researched. Unfortunately, corporations have a right to privacy, so it was possible they were hiding that under Amendment 44, which was their right. It was also possible that they assumed it happened during the incident, which would be logical. However, another possibility was tugging at my brain.\n\nI turned back to the tech, “Would it be possible for someone to hack these chips? Externally?”\n\nThe tech frowned, and for a moment I was worried that he was going to say no. Fortunately, after several minutes he slowly nodded, “Yes, I think it’s possible, why?”\n\nI looked back at the bodies. “If you could do all this without ever leaving your couch, imagine what you could do when you got good at it?”\n\nI heard Hollins catch his breath and I knew he just started thinking about the steady increase. Whoever, or whatever, was doing this, was starting to get the hang of it.\n\nI turned to Hollins, “Call the Cyber-crimes division; it looks like we have a new brand of serial killer on our hands.”\n\n------------\n\nCheck out my [subreddit](http://www.reddit.com/r/grenadiere42) for more stories", "There was a discontinuity. \n\nI was simply walking to work on a pleasant Tuesday morning, enjoying the comforting buzz of the KolaCorp Mind Collective. As usual, Bob774 had sparked some impassioned debate on the Sector proposal, and sub-collectives had formed around Bob774 and David135. I briefly considered the positions and found myself agreeing more with David. I had just injected my suggestion and votesupport on the contentious point to the Collective discussion when I felt the twisting wrongness.\n\nThe road was quiet – four electric cars humming along the genegrass strip, the trees on each side offering a dappled shade from the morning sun, and the tall buildings of the town vertifarms standing immobile and strong in the light wind. A couple of other pedestrians walked along, undoubtedly connected with their own collectives. The sky was clear, the view was innocuous, but the feeling still haunted me.\n\nInstinctively, I patched through to a diagnostics collective. Eight seconds after logging on – an eternity by some standards, must have been a busy morning – a sub-collective was forming to take in my sense impressions. Fifteen people were tapped in, and three identified the issue – Rachel992, Park223 and Joe168 all snapping my attention and the rest of the sub-collective to the problem.\n\nThere was a closed collective in my local loop. \n\nPrivate and restricted collectives were one thing, and not actually that uncommon, especially for companies and governments. This was a closed collective. As in a mental though gestalt that wouldn’t even acknowledge the presence of other minds than its own.\n\nThe diagnostic group sent a consensus summary. 93% in favor of immediate contact with the Police collective, 7% in favor of non-action. I followed the collective recommendation, and connected with the Police.\n\nThe Police were…more structured than many of the other collectives I frequented. I had to thought-ping my gestalt ident three times to various biocomputer sorting algorithms.\n\nIn the Realworld, a young man had emerged from some stairs between two vertical farms, and was now peering about. I formed a linguistics query and got back the explanation that his actions were suspicious. The concept and definition, as well as examples flooded in. Hunh. Today I learned what suspicious behavior was.\n\nI felt three constables, a detective and nine public supervisory watchers loop into my feed. I opened the gestalt and gave them my sense impressions, plus the new information from the Linguistics. I felt the Police-authorised blanket tap request flood out from me.\n\nThe two other pedestrians, Yusif4412 – a BolterGroup employee, and Sakura746 – a StudentAssoc member link in as well, and the consciousness net expanded. The Watchers authorised surviellence within their own sub-collective, and the Police responded with their most powerful intelligence tool – the Investigative Gestalt.\n\nNew options and senses blossomed through us three “on-sites” as we instinctively organized into our own sub and were granted super-user privileges. We provided our senses, and police sensors and cameras fed into the scene as well. We all became vibrantly aware of the street in a way I had never experienced before. The scene was like one giant fantasy-scape that I could zoom my perspective around at will. I could see myself walking calmly along, no sign betraying my new abilities.\n\nI could focus in closer on the suspicious person. Young, age between 19 and 21, medium complexion, no visible identifying markings. Clothing was Levigap standard fare, from their 2142 collection. There was a small tag on the back of the jeans that marked it being from the store on Main.\n\nTwo Levigap employees and their manager linked into the Investigative Gestalt by invitation, and took a mental snapshot to compare against their customer database. An identity arrived within two-thirds of a second later. Blake Martin, CollectiveID Blake987. Address. Date of Birth – Yusif’s estimate was closest – he was 20 and two months.\n\nThe Police sent a verification ping to the man. A second passed. Two. Three. Four. Five. No response, and no sign that the man had even received the Priority One invitation.\n\nThe Police asked for Action authorisation. The supervisory sub-collective had grown to twenty-eight people by now as more members of the public weighed in on the developing situation. One-fifth of a second later, the decision came. 57% against Action. Request Denied. Surveillance only.\n\nBlake took one look around, seemingly oblivious to the attention that was focused on him, and slipped into a side-alley between Vertifarm 8 and 9. We lost sight of him, only for a new perspective to enter the Gestalt Sensor sub-collective. Sarah158 was walking down the alleyway. Sakura reached her turnoff to the university street and dropped out of the grouping. I still had line of sight, so I stayed in the loop.\n\nSarah saw Blake attach something to a small box on the side of the Vertifarm, and then turn and sprint away. The supervisory sub-collective flickered over to a 50/50 split, and grew by another eight members. \n\nThe small box sparked brightly…and the world came crashing down around us.\n\n***\n\nBlake slapped the disruptor to the side of the nodebox and ran. Brother Alpha had said that it’d only kill any same-thoughters in the area, and leave him untouched, but he hadn’t got this far in the FreeThinkers Underground by blindly trusting.\n\nStill, the no one had appear to have even noticed him, so it was probably no big deal, and he wasn’t ev-\n\nHis thoughts skidded to a halt as his body did, and he desperately threw himself to the side as the electric car veered off the genegrass and into the side of the Vertifarm. The driver was slumped over, head in his hands, and Blake could hear the keening wail through the thick glass.\n\nTwo pedestrians were also kneeling over, hands to their heads and screaming.\nThis was freaking him out. The disruptor should have only hit same-thoughters in an active link if it detected one nearby. Why should all these people be same-thoughting?\n\nThe answer came to him as the driver and the pedestrians snapped their heads up and looked straight at him. Blake became aware of people standing at the edges of the Vertifarm levels, all staring with the same intense gaze.\n\nOh, God no… please no…they were onto me...\n\nBlake turned and ran back to the alleyway, only to see the woman from the far end was marching towards him with a purposeful step, her gaze the same, terrifyingly intense stare. He ran again – out past the advancing drivers and pedestrians, and dived down the steps to the park, taking several at a time.\nHe emerged onto the walkway, and breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of dozens of people engaged in normal behavior, chatting and talking and walking.\n\nThen that chatter died away, and the inhabitants of the park turned to stare at him. As one, they turned and walked towards him.\n\nA voice reverberated from a dozen throats.\n\n“Blake Martin. This is the Police. You are under arrest.”\n\n“Nononononono….” \n\nHis worst nightmare was coming true in front of his eyes. They’re all zombies! Mindless zombies! And they’re coming to turn me into one of them! The whole world is out to get me!*\n\nBlake let out a scream of pure terror, and tried to run, but it was far too late.\n" ]	2
	[WP] The only way to survive is break your morals or personal values, what do you do?	[ "“As soon as it turns dark, we’ll strike.” Like a military captain I bark orders to my soldiers, my tired younger brother and my sleepy little sister. “You” I loudly whispered while pointing to my sister, “Gather any empty pots, pans, and jugs you can find.” “You unscrew and unravel our garden snake green hose,” I commanded to my brother. “I will scale the fence and do the deed.”\nMost kids our age would be playing cops and robbers or G.I. Joe. Not us. We were actually on a reconnaissance mission. Not looking for P.O.W.’s, a stolen fighter plane, or even plans for a nuclear weapon. We are on the hunt for a basic commodity in the everyday battle for survival. Only a few more moments until our plan moved from the planning stage to action.\n\nOur neighbors are good people. They never spoke much but they were polite nonetheless. So as soon as darkness consumed our block, it was on. I grabbed one end of the hose while my brother held steadfast to the other end. Over the fence in a single bound like Superman, I ran faster than Carl Lewis to arrive at my destination. Wasting no time I fastened our life line to our neighbors hook-up. “Ready?” I shouted loudly enough for the second in command to hear, but not loud enough for the victims to awake. “Is everything in position?” He nods in agreement. Slowly I turn the handle to the right and out comes our liquid gold.\n\nI hurried up and jumped the fence to ensure we make enough trips to fill the tub up. Baths are vital now. It’s been days in this 100 degree south Texas weather. After filling the tub, we filled jugs to drink from and pots and pans to have water to wash our face and brush our teeth with tomorrow morning. Ten to fifteen minutes later we were done. We have to be discrete because there is no telling how long we’ll have to do this.\n\nThe water company has taken the meter away for repeated unauthorized use. As soon as they would cut off our lifeline for non payment I would turn it right back on. It was easy, all it took was some pliers. My mom showed me how to do it in between jails stays.\n\nI used to think it was my fault. Somehow I believed our life was this way because I was a horrible kid and terrible son. I longed for the things that things that I needed. Not like most kids my age or even most kids at my school, the object of my affection wasn’t the new Air Jordan’s or the black Time Hardaway’s with the gray X. No, the things I lust for are simple, more practical things like running water. They say necessity is the mother of invention, well to me desperation is the father of criminal activities. Of the few morals we were taught, one was to respect our neighbors and their space. But when you are without the basic elements of life all those values don’t hold any value.", "This probably isnt very polished but i just spent 45 minutes on it. Its my 3rd prompt. \n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nIt is a cold night, even colder than the last few which have been in the lower twenties. I can feel the bitter wind smack my already numb face and knees. The alley-way i am heading into is dark and ominous, lit only by the pale winter moon. I cant believe what im about to do. Hell; i can't believe that this idea even came across my mind, but i know it is what has to be done for my family to survive another week. As i exit the alley and round the corner, i find several men standing next to a fire-pit (or what we like to call nowadays a Hoover Heater.) One of them is holding an American flag. I silently observe them as they slowly light the flag on fire. “Land of the free my ass,” one of them utter. I dig my hands into my jacket pockets and keep going down the street.\n\nThe depression has been going on for about two years. Its December of 1931 and it started sometime in 1929. Although i can't remember the exact day, i just know it was a Tuesday and it was relatively calm. It's all kind of been a blur recently though, like one long, miserable day that will not end.\n\nThe moon is hidden behind black clouds and it's starting to snow lightly as i arrive at my destination: the bakery. I know the man who owns this little shop: John Tates Jr. This shop was his father's before he passed last year, he was a good man. So is his son too, and he doesn't deserve the pain i might just inflict upon his business on this godless hour but i know my family needs me. I haven't worked in two months...I know what must be done to save them.\n\nI pull out the steel hammer i got from the ship making business i was once a part of. The steel is dry ice on my freezing hands. “Lord, have mercy on the actions i am about execute.” I mutter to myself as i bring the hammer next to the glass, which is the only thing protecting the bread from my devious pockets. I suddenly start sweating out of anxiety. If my mother and my father or Isabell (my daughter) seen my doing this… i can't imagine. I was raised right and i'm trying to raise my daughter right. This circumstance seems unfair. I can almost hear my father's voice in the back of my head. “This will not do, God will certainly punish you for stealing and for being unfaithful.” I let that thought sink into the back of my mind for a second, i try to come up with an excuse to why i am about to do the actions i intend on doing. My eyes start tearing up and i look at the ground and mutter to myself once more: “Isabell and Macy need me now. I will not let them suffer anymore.”\n\nI wipe the sweat off my face and tears out of my eyes. Raise the hammer behind me and strike the glass with all my might.", "I was sweating. Sweating more than I ever had before. Did I really want to go through with this? It would mean betraying everything I had ever believed in, with not even a guarantee of success. Yet if I didn't follow the plan then I would be torn to shreds anyway, never going anywhere. Lying and betrayals would be the least of my worries. I swallowed, hard, and walked out into the blinding light and cameras. \n\n\"And here comes our newest Presidential candidate....\" " ]	3
	[WP] You live in a society where there is no crime, and doors are left unlocked. Constant monitoring, CCTV, and swift prosecution makes successful crime impossible. Until the day you forget to pay for something at the store, and nobody notices except for you...	[ " I stumbled into the nearest corner store I could find, disoriented from a lack of sleep caused by the pressure of school finals, I hear the small \"ding\" of the bell greet me as I passed through the door and kept my head down when I passed by the automated store clerk. I knew I wasn't guilty of anything, but when they first introduced all this new stuff it made me uneasy. It still does.\n\n I started to make my way to the back of the store towards a cooler of precious caffeinated drinks. As I start to select my poison (as anyone of over the age of forty was sure to tell me it was) I glanced up to see one of the hundreds of security cams littered through out the city and immediately bring my head down again. I felt so paranoid with all these creepy things, keeping tabs on everyone all the time.\n\n I walk to the front counter so the robotic monstrosity could ring me up, and a shelf of snacks catch my eye. Naturally I load my arms up with sugary junk and go to check out. I try and fail to carry everything with my arms so I stuff a couple snack bags in my hoodie and continue up front. I dump everything I had on the counter a pay for my purchases. I walk out with my bags and stop as I realized I forgot to pay for the stuff in my jacket. (I know, I know, so difficult to guess that huh?) Immediately I start to panic. \"what would happen to me when they find out? It was only a few snacks, right?\" Being who I am, I dumped everything my car and prepared to hand the robot the money I owe. \n \n When I walked pass the cameras and the alarm stands for the second time that night, a thought occurred to me. Since all the security has been beefed how did I possibly get passed all of it without being caught? Lately every crime has been caught on camera no matter how petty the crime, the perpetrator was caught and convicted. That's why crime rates have been almost nonexistent lately, everyone is scared. While pondering these things I ran to the back of the store and inspected the camera I had seen earlier. No cord or wire of any kind where attached to it, and in fact there was no indication of it being on or functioning at all. I tapped on the metal of it and it sounded completely hollow. I checked the rest of the cameras and I got the same results each time. All of them were fake. I checked the alarm stands too. The were just metal frames with plastic coverings. I grew more curious and decided if the cameras and alarms were fake the cashier had to be too.\n\n I went back to the cashier and inspected it as well. It seemed to be functioning as well as any other android would. I asked it for a pack of cigarettes, and it asked for an ID which I handed over. It scanned it and rung up the smokes. There should have been a alarm or something, I was only sixteen. I took it a step further, because that could have been a fluke. Before it could ring anything up I ran out with my cigarettes. Once again no alarm. It seems as if the government has everyone fooled into to thinking we're all being watched, when in fact it's the opposite. They're too cheap to actually install anything and just rely on people's fear to protect everything. That means all the arrests were probably fake too. I was begging to get too giddy over my new discovery. As a teenager who was always low on cash, my life was about to be so much more fun.", "Sam cursed at the traffic and glanced at the clock on his dash for the hundredth time. Of all days to be late it had to be today. He had been working on this deal for months and it all hinged upon this final meeting with upper management. He could already tell that he wouldn't make it in on time. He had seen the flashing lights of emergency vehicles rush past in the restricted lane and knew that somewhere up ahead someone had been crushed beneath another semi. It seemed those kinds of accidents were getting more and more common ever since the speed limit for commercial trucks had been lowered. What did they expect? He still was perplexed that they allowed them on the same road as other cars. \n\nTaking a deep breath he signaled into the outside lane and got off at the next exit. If he was going to be late he figured he might as well take a moment to get a good coffee for a change instead of the underwhelming concoctions that dribbled from the automated machines at work. Sam pulled into the coffee shop parking lot just off the exit and went inside to place his order with the barista at the counter. While she was making up his order Sam glanced over the finer points of his presentation on his phone. If he was going to be late he knew he'd have to really impress his bosses with his proposal. He knew that it was a good deal for the company but even the obvious benefits he had laid out might be overlooked if he didn't entertain them enough to forget the rudeness of his late arrival. As he grabbed his coffee his phone beeped alerting him that the accident ahead had been cleared ahead of schedule. \n\nSam rushed back to his car beaming with excitement at his lucky break. He tossed his wallet and phone into the passenger seat and pulled back onto the highway where traffic had once again began to trundle along at a decent pace. Pulling into the parking garage at work he couldn't help but smile to himself knowing that this would finally get him the promotion that he had sacrificed so many long hours for. He reached to grab his phone and noticed a few loose bills lying out of his wallet. Sam stared at them for a moment before realizing that he had forgotten to lay down the money for his coffee in his exuberance to leave the store. \"Oh well.\", He thought to himself. It was more than worth a minor citation to have gotten to work on time. He would pay the citation when the notification came in. A minor annoyance but after this meeting and his upcoming promotion he could more than afford a small fine for such a trivial thing. Sam hurried into work with the feeling that things were finally going his way for a change.\n\nThe meeting went better than he could have even hoped for. Management was blown away by his proposal and had been quick to praise him for exemplary work on this deal. Sam got back to his desk and logged into his public account to check the cost of his earlier misstep at the coffee shop. He was surprised to find that no report had been logged for his accidental theft this morning. Usually the central bureau would have tagged it immediately and had the citation waiting in his inbox within the hour but it had been almost a half a day and yet there was no sign that they had even noticed. Everyone makes mistakes, but the central bureau was not just anyone. With their advanced AI monitoring system and constant surveillance they were for all intents and purposes omnipresent. A stolen coffee was nothing in the scheme of things but the bureau drew no distinction between that and any other crime. The system caught every crime big and small alike. He shrugged it off. Surely by the end of the day it would be sorted out. He was in too good a mood to let such a small detail bother him for more than a few moments. Sam promptly forgot about it and went about finishing the rest of his days work which amounted to some minor paperwork finalizing the deal that had just insured his prosperous future with the company. He smiled again. From here on out things were going to be smooth sailing.\n\nSam walked to the parking garage savoring the fact that soon he would have his own parking space and all the benefits that came with it. His wife would be ecstatic when he got home. He had held off on telling her about his project on the off chance that it fell through, but this would finally allow them to start a family without worrying about the financial burden and he couldn't wait to tell her the good news. As he unlocked his car and got into the drivers seat he again noticed the bills in his console that he had forgotten to leave for the barista. He grabbed his phone and once again checked his public account. Still no notification that he had done anything wrong at all. By this point he was starting to grow a bit concerned. He knew it was a small thing, but if they had missed this what other crimes were going unnoticed? To be honest he had only been cited once for violating the criminal code, and even then only for exceeding the speed limit by one KPH. On the drive home he continued to ponder the strangeness of the situation. The excitement of his earlier success all but driven from his mind and replaced with confusion. He couldn't help but wonder what this meant. He hadn't even once heard of the bureau making a mistake and yet his crime had gone completely unnoticed. Finally he decided that the only way he could feel at peace was to test the system once more. Surely he would quickly be cited just as he should be. Besides, he felt like he could afford a small citation considering that he had dodged one already. He was just evening out the universe. \n\nAlthough nervous Sam slowly accelerated his car to just above the speed limit. Nothing happened. The highway cameras didn't flash, no notification buzzed it's way onto his phone, and not a single person glanced his way. Feeling reckless he pushed it up to five KPH over and still nothing. He understood the cameras might have been blocked at the coffee shop or something, but this was the highway. No one broke the law on the highway. Before he could test it any further he noticed that traffic had begun to slow in front of him and slowly he came to stop as emergency vehicles rushed past him for the second time today. He phone beeped and his heart skipped a beat. He looked down with trepidation but instead of the massive fine he expected for reckless driving all he saw was a traffic notice telling him there would be delays. Sam sat there dumbfounded. How is it that no one had noticed? His mind slowly turned over the possibilities. It couldn't be happening all over the city, or there'd be chaos by now. No, he concluded that for some reason his crimes were specifically being overlooked. But why? And how far could he push it before someone caught on? Finally unable to take it anymore Sam did something that he would never have dreamed of doing before, but at this point he didn't care. He signaled over to the side of the highway and steeled himself to pull onto the lane reserved for emergency responders and government vehicles. If he truly was immune to the law this would definitely confirm it. The last time he saw a vehicle so much as edge slightly into the restricted lane the highway had lit up like a Christmas tree as the multitude of cameras and sirens began to announce a major crime in progress. \n\nSam crossed the line separating the reserved lane from the rest of traffic with gritted teeth. But nothing happened. No lights. No alarms. Nothing. In complete shock he began to drive in a daze down the highway towards home, completely unhindered by the stalled traffic beside him or any resistance from the central system. He still had no idea what to think, but he knew one thing. Today he had gone from just another cog in the machine to a man no longer bound by the fetters that held back the rest of society. He didn't know how long it would last but he did know that he was going to take it for all it was worth. Sam turned off the highway towards the nearest bank without even a hint of fear. Afterall, was it really stealing if no one cared?\n\nEDIT: Typo" ]	2
	[WP] You're grades are failing and the only way you can pass the class is by cheating on the final. However, the school you attend is renowned to be the school where no cheater has ever gotten away.	[ "11:58. He had been staring at the white, prison-like clock hanging above the whiteboard for a while now. His leg was shaking - a nervous twitch he had. The instructor was having a final look at his papers, nodding her head as if she was pleased with the work she was about to hand out. Slowly, the clock was ticking away. He was approaching the hour that would decide it all. 11:59.\n\nHe checked his pockets again. It must have been the eighth time in the last two minutes. He wanted to be sure. The neatly folded paper brushed against the inside of his hand. It was still there. He knew he should not be doing this. The school would not let any cheaters get away - especially not him. Not after the incident last week. The exams had always been in his teacher's desk a week before the class had to take them. Needless to say, he tried his luck to get the papers, even if it meant being expelled. Luckily, it was the janitor who walked into him in flagranti. He got away with a warning.\n\nThis time it was serious. He knew it was wrong, but he had to pass this exam. He just had to. The clock was now approaching twelve. The instructor started handing out the papers. He took a deep breath. His nerves were getting to him. Could she see him sweating? 12:00. \n\n\"You may now start.\"\n\nHe had a look at the paper. Hopeless. Numbers he had never seen before, letters mixed together in unorthodox combinations, pictures depicting various scenes he could not decipher - none of it made sense to him. He was going to fail. He would have to go work at some coffee shop for the rest of his life, if he was lucky. He decided to take the risk. The paper was still in his pockets. Slowly, as to not make any suspicious noises, he took the note out. Unfolding it in his lap, he lowered his head the tiniest bit.\n\n\"Desk 38. This school does not tolerate cheaters. You may hand in your paper and leave silently\"\n\nStartled, he looked up. The instructor was not even looking at him. How could she know? It did not matter, for he had failed. He knew he should not have done it. He knew he would have gotten caught. He knew this was the end. Handing the empty paper in to his instructor, he left the room. 12.01.", "Sally leaned over to pick up her pen. But that’s not where this starts. Hold the image in your mind, though. It’s a good image. Sally knows how to pick up a pen. \n\nShe had me on the first day. I knew what her game was all about, but I didn’t let that get in the way. People like Sally don’t walk into lives, they glide through them. I was just happy to be her backdrop for a while. When she fell in beside me in the hallway, I matched my steps to hers. When she handed me her books I took them without pause. She didn’t have to ask me if I would carry them. She knew that I would carry her whole being down a long path to hell, and that’s exactly what I did - I carried her to hell and came back smiling.\n\nMy life was mostly shielded from surprises. I always had a plan that carried me to a goal. My current goal was finishing pre-med with a high grade point average so I could get into a good medical school. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to be a doctor. I am not a martyr seeking to work long hours helping the huddled masses. I just want to be rich. I figure being a rich doctor is easier than being a rich garbage man, though, so here I am. \n\nSally was the first goal I never planned for, and that led to quite a few surprises. When she copied my papers, I didn’t care. I let her turn hers in first so that mine would get flagged for plagiarism if I didn’t change enough wording. It kept me on my toes and made me look at the world from two different perspectives. When she asked me to complete her exams for her, I did. We even had a system for the proctored tests where I would log in as her, finish her test first, signal her to leave, and then work on mine. Professors didn’t pay enough attention to what I was doing to catch on. They were usually too busy watching her slowly leave. When she winked at them on her way out, I knew it was meant for me. \n\nThe only class that gave us trouble was physics. There’s something about physicists. I’ve never met one that I couldn’t learn to dislike. They size me up like I’m an unbalanced equation that they don’t care to sort out. That’s the feeling I get from them, anyway. Maybe I’m just projecting my own dislike for the unbreakable laws of the physical universe onto the people closest to them. Our physics professor required that we show our work. Sally didn’t have trouble showing my work, but I had trouble not duplicating it for my own submissions. There are only so many ways to put a rocket into orbit. The first time I was caught I lost credit for an entire exam. That was a full twenty percent of my grade gone in one keystroke. The professor was kind enough. He told me that he liked Sally and didn’t want me taking advantage of her. She was a straight A student that was going to be somebody, someday. I didn’t argue with him. She already was somebody, if you asked me. \n\nFrom then on I had to enlist the help of others. A freshman did my homework so I could do Sally’s. Different handwriting, different thought processes, different paper, everything was different enough to avoid another failing grade. The professor surely noticed the sudden change in logical approach, but I didn’t care. With the twenty percent gone, my perfect GPA was already blemished. I just needed to survive the class without being suspended. Failing was not an option. That was never part of the plan. The professor had warned me that no cheater had ever passed his class. I say warned, but it was more likely a threat. It didn’t matter. I didn’t intend to get caught again.\n\nOn the day of the final I slipped Sally an answer sheet. I had bribed the teaching assistant to give me a copy of the problems so that I could work through them for Sally. The plan was simple, I would log in as Sally and take the exam while she did whatever it is she usually does during exam time. I would signal her when I was done and she would turn in the answer sheet showing “her” work. After she left, I would log in as myself and take the exam again, this time getting a few different questions wrong than she had. I had the freshman write up my own solutions and I kept the original answer sheet for reference in case anything unexpected came up. It was just like we had done a dozen times before in different classes, so there was nothing to worry about. \n\nThe timer started and I logged in as Sally. I took a long enough time to make it plausible that Sally was working through the problems. She was known as a fast student, though, so nobody thought twice when I made a quiet cough to let her know I was done and she started gathering up her things. The professor looked over to her, smiled and nodded. I am sure he was proud of how well he had taught her throughout the semester. I am sure he was thinking of other things about her, too. I couldn’t blame him. I am sure we all were. \n\nAs Sally passed me, her bag strap brushed across a stack of papers on my desk. The answer sheet slid out of the stack and with a whimsical flourish, spiraled its way to the floor. The professor shifted his gaze to the sheet and a look of puzzlement overcame his face. He wasn’t sure what he had seen, but he made motions as if he was going to come and investigate. I considered my options. I needed to retrieve the paper without looking guilty. I just needed two seconds without the professor staring me down to get the sheet back into its stack and away from his prying eyes. In situations like this, you think your pulse is going to quicken. You think your face will turn red and everyone will see you for the hollow fraud you are. My pulse slowed. I heard each beat of my heart, distinctly, in a common cadence. One-two. One-two. One-two. The professor locked his eyes on mine and I smiled. \n\nAs he stood, his expression changed from one of puzzlement to one of newly sparked anger. Some tinder part tucked deep away inside of him had snapped and ignited. I cocked my head to one side and peered at him. There was no way out, now. The game was over and I had lost. The realization washed over me, bringing a sense of calm that only the condemned can understand. \n\nThen Sally dropped her pen. As she turned around to pick it up, she gave me a wry smile and a wink. The professor froze for an instant as he watched her turn her back to him and bend over. In one fluid motion she gathered up both the pen and the cheat sheet. She moved as if she had prepared for her entire life, practiced turning and stepping, leaning and bending, a gentle flick of the wrist, and folding of paper, all perfectly choreographed just to play out in that one instant. As she stood, she folded the paper twice and tucked it into the front pocket of her skirt. She approached the professor, moving within inches of him, then leaned in and whispered something in his ear. He blushed as she stepped back and handed him her completed answers. She held his gaze for a moment too long and then let out a long sigh before turning to walk away. A ferocious silence overcame us as every eye in the room followed her to the door. She opened it with a gentle motion, twirled out of the class, and quietly closed it behind her. After a few moments, the room slowly began to return from its collective dream. The silence was first broken with a single keystroke, and was followed by scribblings and the tearing of paper, more keystrokes, and a scattered coughing and shifting of seats. The professor returned to his chair and stared into the distance for a while with a slight grin on his otherwise solemn face. \n\nSally really knows how to pick up a pen. That girl is going to be somebody someday. \n\n\n", "Kevin waited to get his midterm back. He needed a 70 to raise his grade to passing. The papers slapped the desk; Kevin noticed the shiny red 54 at the top and groaned. Now he only had the final to boost his grade, he would need an 86 to pass. He thought hard and formulated a plan. \n\nIt would take weeks of preparation to get away with it. He knew he had to commit it all to memory, writing it down was a sure way to get caught. For the following four weeks, he acted completely natural. He did his assignments, read his textbook, and completed the study guide. Nobody had a clue. When the test rolled around, Kevin activated his plan. It worked. He got a 90, passing the class. Nobody ever caught on." ]	3
	[WP] Scientists can bring back from the dead one person per year who died in the last 500 years. The choice is made by public vote and almost always predictable... until now.	[ "After fifteen years of rejuvenation technology hitting its peak, many of the obvious candidates were already rebirthed. George Washington was already six years old, Ghandhi was beginning puberty, and Nikolai Tesla was teething. Everything was working well, and people were more optimistic than ever before about the future. \n\nDr. Ambrose, director of the Eternity Project was one of fifteen individuals who knew the whereabouts of any of the fourteen rebirthed people. They were simply placed in orphanages where they would be given to very good parents. His employees ensured that the children were well taken care of, that's all there really was to do. Ambrose guessed that at least one of the current fourteen wouldn't make it to adulthood; accidents did happen. \n\nHe was disturbed at his desk when Susan, the project secretary ran through his open door. \"Sir!\" She said, instantly inhaling over and over again after making her exclamation. \"What is it?\" Ambrose asked. \"What's got you so out of breath? \" \n\n\"We've just confirmed it! The final votes are in! You'll want to see this.\" Ambrose jumped out of his chair and followed Susan, who was running. I finally caught up to her as she slowed to a stop in front of our main monitor, the size of a full warehouse wall. Doing the impossible did have its financial perks. The wall displayed the top ten choices of the year, as well as colored dots matching those persons across a map of the planet. Ambrose wanted to know how people voted, and where they were gaining support. Normally a clear majority would break out, Tesla was the first person who was voted in under 60%. This time, the map was much different from normal. All of the top ten had less than 15% of the votes. And several large areas were dark. That meant that the votes there were for other people below the top ten. That hadn't really happened before.\n\n\"Susan, who is the official winner?\" Ambrose asked.\n\n\"Well, Deng Xiaoping of China has the most at 14.8% sir. But as you know, the official rules state that a winner must be chosen with 50% or more of the world vote to be the true winner.\"\n\n\"That's correct.\" Ambrose stroked his short beard. He hadn't even thought this would be a possibility. He assumed a European leader would garner a strong coalition from the Europeans and Americans, but that had apparently been shrugged off by the US who wanted Lincoln, and South America who wanted different football legends to return. \n\n\"Well, we'll do nothing. No one is rebirthed this year.\" \n\n\"What? But sir! This is the most useful tech invented in the last hundred years! And you're just going to let it waste away?\"\n\n\"Yes. This is powerful tech Susan. I can't play with it and twist it to my wants, and no country should either. If we allow this Deng gentleman to win and be returned, The strongest national interest will always win. We need this to be Earth's next hero reborn, or this tech will be corrupted and wasted. Go ahead and send the message. No one gets rebirthed without a global majority.\"", "A group of scientists walk slowly down the main aisle in the House of Reincarnation, headed for the door. However this is not a regular group of scientists, these scientists hold the, not yet revaled, results of the annual reincarnation vote. A rather large crowd is waiting eagerly outside the stairs to the building, and bit further away you can spot tents and camping supplies, as it has become a tradition to camp outside the House of Reincarnation to be able to get up front. The closer you get to the main building when the reveal happens, the better the look you'll be able to get at the reincarnated being. A loud roar from the crowd is heard as the leading scientist walks up to the podium in front of the entrance. It's only a matter of seconds until the roar turns into complete silence. The scientist draws a breath and brings his head closer to the microphone.\n\n\"We have worked long and hard to gather up the results, and we'd just like to thank our lovely country, the United States of America, for making this possible\"\n\nThe people clap loudly and then quickly return to their state of silence and anticipation.\n\n\"In a few seconds I will open the door behind me and reveal what you, the citizens of this lovely country, have choosen to be reincarnated,\" says the scientist and walks over to the side of the door.\n\n\"Citizens. I present to you...\"\n\nThe door opens slowly and light begins to shine on a figure.\n\n\"Adolf Hitler!\"\n\nThe crowd gasps, as none of them were expecting this travesty. Adolf Hitler, the most evil man to ever live and die, is reincarnated? Hitler slowly walks up to the podium.\n\n\"Sieg heil,\" he yells into the microphone.\n\nScreams fill the air as all the people start to run around like mad cows. The scientists look at each other with odd looks.\n\n\"Why are they running? Didn't they vote for this?\", says the leading scientist\n\n\"I'm not sure...- oh my god,\" says one of the scientists.\n\n\"What?! What's going on?!\"\n\n\"I held the results paper upside down. Hitler got negative 100 votes.\"\n\nThe leading scientist's stare grew cold.\n\n\"Damn it! I knew I shouldn't have put you in charge of the reincarnation! And who won?\"\n\n\"I don't know... I can't read\"\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] Modern day Soldiers are on the front-lines of first contact for an alien invasion of Earth. Many soldiers don't know what they are facing. When, through the fog of war, a battalion of Storm-troopers appear.	[ "When the ships appeared in the sky we had no warning. It wasn't quite like the movies. They didn't just attack the United States, or go after the landmarks like Big Ben and the Eiffel tower. They went after New york yeah, but only because of its size. In fact they targeted based on largest populations, so the first attacks came in Asia. Tokyo, Seoul, Shanghai, Karachi, Delhi, had immediate blackouts. \n\nThe order of surrender didn't come in the form of a White House lawn landing a demand to the president or the UN. Just an overwhelming broadcast on all frequencies in Chinese, English and Spanish. They simply stated they had no regard for our culture or nations and that we were to submit to Imperial rule and governance. After that they just started looping it. \n\nWithin minutes every military in the world was on full alert. Just as quickly the aliens began to land. We had no idea what they were, what they looked like, or where they came from. Just that they were coming for us. It didn't take long for orders to appear. My part in this started when my battalion was the closest to the Dallas Texas invasion zone. They hit dirt about the same time we got there. \n\nThe flashes in the sky told me the Air Force fly boys were already at work earning their paychecks for once. The Chinooks put us down outside a suburb where the cops were busy evacuating civilians with National Guard starting to trickle in to help them. There was no time for an forward base to setup the aliens had already begun digging in themselves. Command wanted us to prevent that from happening. \n\nSo we rallied up and started towards them. We could see the column of ships rising and falling from their landing zone with a swarm of aircraft and explosions around it. As we got closer we started seeing wreckage of jets and whatever they used. The green flames and purple smoke were eerie. Then our APCs and Tanks crested a rise and we saw them, already numbering in the hundreds. \n\nA field of white armor, and gray war machines. Prefabricated buildings and huge armor pieces were being carried into place whole straight from orbit. They wasted no time opening fire. The Hummer next to us evaporated in one hit, everybody else began the shoot and scoot routine. We popped out of the carriers and began moving through cover. The Open Field was obviously going to get us killed in a hurry. \n\nThe distance closed quick. A buzzing hum was our only warning before flying bikes began ripping through us. Air support was trying to get through but spotty at best. Getting a hit was tricky but the RPGs could take out the smaller craft. Then we finally got personally acquainted with the Stormtroopers. They were covered head to toe in thick ballistic plate armor. Some kind of mix of ceramics and plastic. \n\nNothing smaller than a .44 could punch through it, so we had to go after the soft spots in the gaps. They had smart tactics but weren't afraid to swarm and lose numbers. They were using something not quite like a ray gun. They weren't lasers like we know them that go straight out and have continuous line. Rather they were bolts with a slight explosive effect. They burned like hell though. I took a couple near hits, and the wounds were cauterized by themselves. \n\nThe tanks and vehicles had better luck than us grunts. Once a full armored division showed up we managed to start pushing them back a bit. They were jamming our radios so we had to resort to hard lines a lot. Air support was failing, and we couldn't get into the their forward base. So when artillery came online it was a god send. \n\nThey had started putting up some kind of barrier though. Hard bombardment punched through with after a few volleys. We cheered when the explosions shook the ground. The cheers stopped when the walkers came. The small two legged ones were fast and vicious but concentrated fire could take them out. The four legged ones were much harder. My battalion had been cut to shreds but we were told to stay in it. \n\nThe entire armor division was reduced to ribbons by just two of the towering four legs monsters. Finally they went down after the chopper pilots got creative with their cargo winches. The artillery kept up the rest of the day until we were forced to ground by the Empire's air patrols. Finally we had reduced their LZ to rubble. We were too tired to celebrate. \n\nIt was almost midnight as my squad started picking over the remains of the enemy forward base. Command had stated it was imperative to capture and re-purpose enemy tech. Then the sky lit up. I looked and watched as a storm of green bolts began to stream down from orbit. We ran but it didn't take long to realize we weren't the main target. Dallas was. \n\nI watched the city I had spent my weekend in burn to the ground in a couple hours, helpless to stop it. The Empire was cold and ruthless, and willing to do anything to win. I sank to my knees and cried then, knowing the end would not come quickly. \n", "The reporter felt sick. Blasted guy! \nHe was supposed to be filming an article about some safe, totally uninteresting subject, when hiss boss came in and, of the 42 people working on his floor, picked him to get his ass off the Ikea chair and off to the battlefield. \nBlasted guy! \nThe Humvee was hot, the supplied rations of water not way enough to feed just him, let alone two other unlucky souls that had been dumped with him to film everything that would happen here, and the wait was terrible. In front of him, four battalions of the United Nation's bravest (though not necessarily best) soldiers waited anxiously. They had chosen positions accordingly: an alien ship, descending towards the Earth, must have superior sensors to our own. Fearing that a simple cover wouldn't work, the top brass of the United States army was so kind to outfit a single battalion with stealth armor. Technology that was supposedly years out of reach, and now they managed to outfit 750 men and women with it? Chris cursed. He much rather would be investigating this cover-up instead of hauling his ass to the first inter-planar battlefield in the history of mankind. That the whole world would be watching lil' old him was just scant comfort. He'd probably be dead in the first minute anyway. Aliens man... come on. The army wouldn't stand a chance. \nFive minutes ticked away. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. God... the wait... finish it already! \nTick. Tock. Tick... \"We have contact. Alien vessel has landed. Hailings in all available bandwidths have been ignored. S-team, prepare for deployment. Alpha Battalion, hold your fire until we're sure the aliens are hostile. May God have mercy on our souls.\" \nThe radio chatter awoke Chris out of his trance. He sighed. \"Come on guys, on to our five minutes of fame. Edward, I really like your sister. If we survive this, please don't be mad at me. I was going to tell you next week. Daniel, you're a son of a bitch. But I really liked having beers with you.\" \nHis cameraman and audiodude just gave him an annoyed stare. This was the moment he picked to tell them? Not that it mattered anyway... The three of them climbed out of the top hatch of the Humvee, positioned themselves... \n\"This is Chris Hemmingway, coming to you live from the first inter-planar battlefield for BBC World. As you all can see, the alien ship has landed and our brave army is getting ready to confront whatever exotic creatures might emerge from it!\" \nChris looked back to the scene (he hadn't even glanced at the ship yet)... And realized the term \"exotic\" really was out of place. It was... a ship. A bulky, grey ship. With wings. An emblem. Some marking. All in all, while he couldn't understand what they meant, it didn't actually look all that weird. Could be a Russian ship if you'd replace the letters (if that's what they were). Prime time, world wide television... and he manages to screw up. Good thinking Chris, talking first then looking. Ugh... \nThe base of the ship was covered in a fog of dust. A few clanks were heard across the battlefield, even audible from this distance, and shadows moved along them. In front of the first battalion, Alpha, a small band started playing music. Sure, you've got 3000 guns pointed at you, but a bit of music will let you ignore all of that? Stupid brass... Chris really couldn't care anymore. He just wanted to get out of there! \n \nThen the shooting started. \n \nRed bolts spliced the air. The fanfare stopped playing and ran for cover. The Alpha battalion started to return fire. \n\"As you can see ladies and gentlemen at home, it is a catastrophe! The aliens are undoubtedly hostile! What looks like lasers are everywhere! The fog has just started to clear... It appears like soldiers have emerged from the ship! They don't seem to be disturbed by the heavy fire laid down by our own troops...\" \nIndeed, the alien soldiers, donned in white armor, just kept shooting. Ricocheting bullets were hitting the spaceship; it was obvious that they didn't do any real damage. Then again, the red bolts only managed to hit a few men or so. Almost as if them hitting target is more of a coincidence then meaning... \n\"It appears the alien soldiers are not so good with their aim, ladies and gentlemen! On the front line, we see a few brave men and women have started impaling the enemy. It is utter chaos! The... Wait, what's that?\" \nA flurry of motion next to him broke Chris' sentence. The camera, too, swiveled to the side. Tanks! That's odd. He didn't know there would be tanks. Nobody had told him, anyway. And the design was pretty unfamiliar too. There wasn't a regular barrel on top. It was something else entirely... As the tanks rolled by, Alpha battalion split in two. On the left and right, red lasers appeared out of nowhere, clearly marking the enemy. They're being tagged... is that the Stealth battalion? \nAnd at that moment, a shockwave almost sends Chris and his team careening off the Humvee. As he regains his posture, he sees a large swat of the white armors have been flattened. And splattered. They quickly try to regroup, but it's of no use. One of the tanks blasts off a wing of the spaceship, three others make short work of most of the aliens still standing. \n\"It... would seem this battle is over, people at home! The enemy is defeated! Celebrate together!\" \nAt that moment, Chris gets a message in his Bluetooth earset. \"Yeah, it;s over there. Get your ass back, the boss wants to have a word with you. Something about exotic and stuff. And your next assignment.\" \nDisappointment is followed by excitement. A new assignment! He might like this job after all... Chris doesn't even notice the annoyed looks from his team... \n \n*** \n \n\"Was that really necessary?\" Admiral Dune tapped his fingers on the table. With him, the combined leadership of the United Nations stare at the live Tabernas feed. \n\"It was. This was just a small show to show anyone else looking on that we have what it takes to repel anything that poses a threat to us.\" Rear Admiral Blake, a tall American, leaned backwards. \"We didn't even have to activate our own laser battalion. The Railgun tanks were more than enough and it appears the Stealth Battalion worked like a charm. What's there not to like?\" \nBlake chewed off the top of his cigar and spit it into a corner. \nDune clearly isn't satisfied with this answer. \"These images will go round the world. We knew, but now the whole world knows. They're Stormtroopers, for god's sake. If there really were a Darth-Vader-whats-his-name with them, it would've been a disaster!\" \nBlake takes a yawn and shrugs his shoulders. \"There wasn't. Now quit yer whinin'. We've got an alien ship to dismantle!\" \nThe generals all begin standing up, congratulating eachother on their success this day, and make their way out. Dune is last. And while he walks outside, nobody seems to notice the worried look on his face... and two little metal balls he levitates in his hand..." ]	2
	[WP] A philanthropic alien gives an Ironman-like suit to a potential hero... but it has a finite power source. Write the story of the hero who has to say, "No" a lot so he can help when it really matters.	[ "It was December 22nd. It was a snowy evening, nearing night. I had been driving through the plains of the Midwest, to visit my family at their farm, and was pleasantly surprised to find it lightly snowing. I had bent to turn on my windshield wipers, when I saw it on the edge of my vision - a streak of light, brighter than the sun. There was nobody else out here in the middle of the nowhere, so I slowed the car to get a better look at what I thought to be a meteor shower. Before I realized that the streak was getting larger, not smaller - it crashed in the grasses, just a few miles away.\n\nThe car rocked as the shockwave swept past it, and I squinted to see through the suddenly-blinding light, as if lightning had struck. I could make out the shadows of a mushroom cloud, and that's when I had to make my decision. You know, as a kid, I had been raised to fear the mushroom cloud - they had drilled that into our young minds, and that fear was something we had to live with everyday, constantly looming over our heads, the threat of missiles and bombs. That fear chilled my heart, paralyzed me for too long - but I gritted through it, and when the light died down and the shockwave swept past, I ran to the crash site.\n\nLeaping over a hill, and glimpsed the crater for the first time - and shuddered as I realized I was looking at no earthly technology. I shuddered, out of a mixture of awe and fear, and stood dumbstruck, just gazing down at the UFO. If there was life down there - regardless of whatever kinda life it was - I would help it. I'd gone through my share of horrible situations in the war as a medic, and it had always been worth it just to save one life. This was nothing compared to bullets whizzing by and tanks rolling towards you. And with that, I slid down the hill, and scrambled to get to the ship, to see if there was anyone - anything - to save.\n\nAs I approached the ship, I could feel a turning, a twisting in the air like the opening a doorknob, then a yank. The metal of the ship peeled away, and I saw a man - what seemed a man - sitting in the crater. Pale, tall, gaunt, hairless - he was man-like, but I could tell, with a primal certainty, that this was no man. It was an alien. Quickly, though, my senses skirted around the whole \"not human\" part, and I appraised him according to my training. He was badly wounded, even I could tell that much. While I might assume the construction of an alien's legs could be different than a man's, the fact they both faced different directions was a bad sign. Pale pink blood dripped from multiple wounds, and he was barely able to stand - yet he did. I threw out my hands, shook my head, but realized I had no idea how to signal I wanted him not to move. Shaking the head, that's not even a \"no\" in every culture, let alone to an alien... I had no idea what to do.\n\nBefore I could even attempt to help the alien, it - it spoke to me. Not true speech, mind you, but a psychic contact, ideas without words, that skipped my ears and leapt straight to my brain. So many things swept through my head at once. Apology. Regret. Family. Duty. Disaster. Potential. Choice. All of these ideas converged, like rivers meeting the ocean, and my vision swam as I struggled to stay standing through the psychic deluge. Then, just as suddenly as it began, it was over. And I realized what was happening, what had happened.\n\nThis alien was dying, and it was sorry - infinitely sorry - that our first meeting with aliens had to be like this. But it had a duty, a reason to be here - a disaster it had to prevent. If it was dead, it could not defend Earth against this disaster. But in my heart, my actions, ti saw the same potential it had been chosen for. And it wanted me to choose whether to take up its mantle.\n\nI had felt the horror of the disaster in my mind. I had seen what would happen to Earth, if unprotected - it would be worse than the Earth becoming a barren wasteland. It would be an endless landscape of horror, infinite pain and suffering, a hell in space. The choice was to take a heavy mantle, to burden one man to save a planet. \n\nI couldn't say no.\n\nI wish I had.\n\n-\n\nA year later, I was a superstar. Well, not exactly me - the suit I had been given, a kind of organic metal that also made up the alien's ship, also covered my entire body, and I had never made any effort to reveal my identity. My wife made enough money to support the kids, and with the help of my veteran checks, I was able to take care of the kids just fine as a stay-at-home dad. There was no need to exploit my sudden fame to make money. And I had no desire to become a celebrity. So I just let the media run with it - a mystery hero, straight out of the comic books, saving lives and stopping disasters.\n\nBut real life isn't like the comic books. I didn't fight many criminals, or any supervillains. I didn't have super-hearing - my suit gave me limited 'telekinesis' (a term I had learned when researching in the library what exactly my powers were... the suit had a psychic interface to use, but it wasn't exactly optimized for a human mind, so it was pretty unclear and even cryptic at times.), but that's it. I could levitate anything, and I'm not too clever of a guy, so I mostly used that power to fly or move things around. But that power was all you really need to carry people out of burning builds, or save them from drowning at sea, or stop a school shooting.\n\nThe weight of my burden was heavy, of course. I couldn't save everyone, and I knew it. I could only save the peoples' lives I knew about, and that was a problem. I became attached to the news and radio, constantly attentive for local disasters I could help with. I had no concern about my identity being discovered - again, no supervillains - so I focused on the largest disasters that were the closest. Time that was spent flying to a distant disaster was time that others spent dying. \n\nI had learned triage as a medic. In a hospital - or worse, a battlefield - you have to remain objective, evaluate the resources you have available, and decide which lives are more urgent to save than others. Years as an EMT, medic, nurse, had hardened me to the task. But I had also quit my job because of the feelings I tried to choke and kill in my heart - it's impossible to ever truly become cold, when I chose this line of work because I care so much.\n\nFor the first year, all I worried about was time. But almost exactly a year later - it was Christmas season, December 11th, mid-day - I had just helped save a hundred people from a fire. There was another fire happening a city or two away, so I was flying as fast as I could, hoping to God that there were still people left to save, when I felt it - a psychic message from the suit.\n\nIt was garbled, unclear as always, a deluge of ideas - but I understood, nonetheless, and the horror sank in. \n\nMy suit was at 75% power.\n\n-\n\nA single year, and I had already used up a quarter of my suit's power. I didn't even know it did have a power source, or that it had limited power at that. The alien had died very quickly after he handed the suit to me, choking up blood as he was changing its specifications to suit my human mind, and dying after I put it on for the first time, with what was an eerily-human smile on his face. It had never had the time to explain the suit. \n\nI stopped to rest in a field, outside the city. I was a country man - this was the kind of place I could gather my thoughts best.\n\nThough I knew I shouldn't - that it would change nothing - I thought of all the things I had done with the suit in the past year. I had spent a good month or two experimenting with the suit, trying to understand its abilities better. The skills I had learned were valuable... but were they worth it? Could I have learned faster?\n\nThe train of thought continued on, unceasing, unresponsive to my attempts to stop it. Was every life I saved worth it? Before I had really come to understand the importance of time, I had spent a lot of time just saving people from the worst disasters I had heard about on the news. All that energy I spent flying - was that worth it? Was the cost of traveling 100 miles worth the lives it saved, the lives that died during the journey?\n\nTriage is about being objective, about being able to categorize - it's a methodical process. If it could be simplified to mathematics, it would. One life or one hundred, who do you save? The hundred. It's that simple. And now, I had a true number to attach to my actions and decisions - the energy cost of each life I saved. I could calculate how much energy I lost picking up a person, flying a mile, and weigh the two against each other. That was a horrible calculation, one I never wanted to do - but I knew I would have to.\n\nAs a medic, a nurse, I could not be picky about who I saved - that was the official reason I told myself, to remain professional and detached. In my heart, I knew that I was more motivated by my feelings - that nobody deserves to die.\n\nI shuddered, as a sob swept through me. I couldn't handle this regret. So many mistakes, over the course of a year... if I kept at this pace, I had only three years left. Worse than the fact I would be unable to save any lives after that time span, there was also the problem of the disaster. I had seen none of the warning signs, in an entire year. I had only gotten the vaguest of timelines from the alien - the warning signs he had been able to make clear to me, but even he did not know precisely when the disaster would occur. A year from now? A decade? He was sure that it would be within 20 years - I was only 35, so I was confident I'd live to see the disaster, especially with the suit with me, that I could summon at a moment's notice. I hadn't worried then.", "When it happened, it was all just a blur. A dream. Like it was happening to someone else. A blur within another person's dream. Yeah, that sounds about right. An alien who went by no name, bestowed a magnificent suit that was capable of things that should not be possible on this world. It lends super human strength, capable of moving skyscrapers off of it's foundation with only a nudge. It allows the user to move at speeds so fast they part the clouds out of the sky above. There's just so much more to the suit, it's beyond words. I only know these things not by use, but by transmission of thought. For the suit had only 24 hours of use through it's entire lifetime, and ..let's call him Noname, was kind enough to give me this information through a simple touch of his hand against my forehead. Hence the blur part. It was like flipping through the channels as fast as you could, but everything was clear as if you had just binge watched a TV series and everything was fresh in your mind. \n \nI could not squander this power, I had to figure out how to use it to it's absolute greatest potential, without wasting a second of it's precious time. So I did what any person would do, I reached out for help. The government was all too eager to get their hands on the suit, and at the beginning they tried to take it by force, but for all of the technology and ideas they had, they couldn't lay a single finger on the suit without it entering a defensive state. It evaporated anyone and anything who tried to come in contact with it, anyone who wasn't me anyways. So it sits there, floating just above the ground, waiting for me to utilize it's power, but for what? Anyhow, long story short, we came to an agreement, they would filter the worlds problems for me, compile a list of things happening that could utilize the suits power, with me having the final say in the suits use.. a thirty-one year old man who only just figured out the correct way to use a paper toilet seat cover.. dammit. \n \nI had to say no to many requests ..because, what if something worst were to come along and I needed the suits power? A volcano erupted and threatened the lives of hundreds.. but what if a catastrophe bigger than that occurred and thousands, no, millions of peoples lives were at risk? No.. that problem can be handled by others.. right? Mass murderers, drug cartels, tyrants, civil wars ..so many problems, but what was more worthy than the other? How can I pick from a list of these atrocious actions and unfortunate disasters, who deserves to be saved? How can one person deem one persons live more worthy of saving than another? Maybe it's all for nothing.. \n \nHistory has shown that we have always been at war with one another. People are just too different to exist peacefully next to one another. If I eliminate one homicidal dictator, who is to say that another won't pop up right after the suits power is gone..? What will all of my actions and efforts have been for? Noname did say.. or.. thought something to me .. \"Even with all of this power, can you truly make a difference? People have taken up this mantle before, and though their efforts were tremendous, life seemed to always fall right back into it's old habits.\". sigh \n \nMaybe ..but mankind deserves a time of peace, even if it isn't forever. I can make a difference, I can make a change. Let's start at home, corruption seems to be strong here in the US, and I know just where to start. \n \nI walk slowly up to my suit, it seems to buzz softly with a soft hue of blues and whites as it floats there in it's suspended state. I let out a long sigh and place my hand on it's chest. \n \n\"Suit.. load up reports from highest threat to most minimal. Starting from my location out to the rest of the world. How quickly can we resolve everything on the list?\" \n \nThe suit gently hummed, and I cracked a smile. \"Just over an hour.. Wow. Alright, let's get started\"" ]	2
	[WP] A large force finally attacks the U.S., but they make one major mistake, they begin in the South, who just ain't gonna be puttin up with none a' this.	[ " Orval ran to his basement as fast as he could. He was not going to be the last person the shoot a Russian that day. What the hell possessed them to invade the most heavily armed civilian population in the world with only assault rifles and light armored vehicles, he had no idea. All he knew was he would finally get to do something he dreamed about since he was a child growing up in the 80's watching Rambo and Chuck Norris movies. Something his own father never had a chance to do. \n\nOrval was going to bag him a Rooskie. \n\nWhen he reached the basement he realized his all of his guns were locked in a cabinet.\n\n\"Martha!\" Orval called upstairs, \"Where the hell are the keys?\"\n\nMartha called back down, \"Angeline's got the car. She's getting her hair done.\" \n\n\"Oh, God damn it!\" Orval cursed. \n\nAll of the keys for the cabinet, the chain lock, and trigger locks were on the same set of keys he used for the Chevy Suburban. The extra keys were missing. Again. As he heard gunfire from hundreds of deer rifles all around town, Orval was determined not to let this day pass without putting as notch on his belt. He ran to the garage to fetch his tools and started cutting the cabinet apart. \n\nThirty minutes later Orval was exhausted, running towards downtown with an AR-15, a bolt action rifle, and a shotgun. They were still chained together as Orval was not able to cut the chain, and the trigger locks were still on the bolt action and shotgun. Orval had to take apart the AR-15 to free it from the cabinet. \n\nThe streets were littered with dead Russians all over. He kicked a few of them to make sure they were deceased. For a moment he thought he could just put a bullet in one of them and claim it as his own kill, but he wasn't sure he put the AR-15 back together properly, he was in too much of a hurry. Just as he was considering shooting a dead corporal he saw the two last things in the world he wanted to see. \n\nA couple of Orval's co-workers carrying assault rifles were walking down the road and spotted him. A pair of jackasses named Jeb and Clem.\n\n\"Well looky what we have here!\" shouted Jeb. \n\n\"Ya'll ain't gonna be shootin no Rooskies with them trigger locks on your gun you libtard!\" said Clem.\n\nOrval looked around hopefully, \"Are there any left?\" \n\n\"Any what?\" asked Jeb.\n\n\"Russians!\" Orval screamed, letting himself get wound up, \"Are there any Russians left you hog-slapping shit-kicking dumbass bumble-fuckers?\"\n\n\"Sorry, Orval we shot them all,\" said Jeb. \n\n\"I bagged at least six of them,\" said Clem.\n\nCleb was wearing the hat and blood stained coat of a Russian officer he obviously took as a war trophy.\n\n\"You selfish assholes didn't save any Russians for me?\" said Orval, sounding defeated.\n\n\"First come, first serve, Orval!\" said Jeb. \n \n\"Yeah, that's what you get when you lock up your guns like some God damn Obama voter!\" said Clem.\n\nOrval went livid and screamed, \"I never voted for Obama in my life!\" \n \nOrval clamored to point his AR-15 rifle at Clem threateningly, but the gun fell apart in his hands as he had failed to re-assemble it properly. Jeb and Clem laughed cruelly as Orval's guns fell to the street in pieces, and he dropped to his knees a broken man. His dreams of shooting a Russian forever crushed. A single tear rolled down his cheek as Jeb and Clem marched away, rebel yelling and firing victory shots in the air. \n", "A huge laser beam swept through the streets of a small town in Texas. Tucker ducked out of it's way and ran towards his truck. \n\n\"No you ain't gonna steal my moose you alien prick!\" he yelled, reaching for a shotgun. But before he had time to pull a trigger, a giant UFO was already going down, crushing into ground. \"You hit it, Billy! Next one's mine!\"\n\n\"What should we do, sir?\" lieutenant was sweating his blue alien sweat. \"Based on our research we didn't expect people being so violent!\"\n\n\"We made a great mistake, lieutenant. We have to go back home, and pray to our gods that these people will not going to invent good spaceships any time soon.\"", "There is an oft-repeated line, originally attributed to Isoroku Yamamoto, commander-in-chief of the Combined Fleet during WWII. “You cannot invade mainland United States. There would be a rifle behind every blade of grass.” The veracity of this quote and its attribution have long been debated amongst historians the world over. It didn't really matter of course, quotes rarely do... Well, until some idiot decides to test them of course, and let me tell you, Yamamoto sure as shit wasn't wrong!\n\nWe built the largest army ever seen on this planet. Two hundred thousand troops from the Koreas alone. Half a million from Russia, three times that number from China. Another million from India and somewhere around four hundred thousand from the African nations. It really was an impressive site watching the fleet sail around the horn of Africa, growing larger every day. I lost count of the ships by the time we passed Ascension.\n\nThen all manner of hell broke loose. I woke up to alarms and the sounds of screaming men and women. Then weapons fire, Tors mostly by the sound of it. Then the Hongs let loose, and finally the 630s. You hear those sounds, and as each system ends its salvo you find yourself cringing further till eventually the 630 cuts off and you've contorted yourself into a ball on your bunk. You wait and you wait, the silence is palpable, did it work? Did the 630 finally get the missile? It was just one missile right? Then I heard it, the ship was rocked back so far I damned near slid off my bunk!\n\nTurns out the coalition hadn't sniffed out all of the US Navy's Ohios and Virginias. Somewhere between Ascension & Cape Verde they'd encircled our fleet and let loose a torrent of torpedoes, anti-ship missiles and even ICBMs. After years of preaching nuclear deterrence, who'd have thought they'd be the ones to escalate this conflict? We lost dozens of ships to the torpedoes, damned near all of our escort vessels in fact. The Kirovs had fought valiantly, but had been practically destroyed by the ASMs that got through. No one even noticed the ICBMs till they were inbound again. With a blinding flash our fleet was cored. Dozens of vessels outright vaporized, those further from the blast were capsized while others were merely knocked back. I was lucky, the wave had passed mostly under us and though the ship rocked it hadn't capsized or been heavily irradiated. Some men 'melted' in their bunks from the radiation... Despite this, the techs said the bomb was tuned to be light on radiation and heavy on blast. \n\nNo one spoke of the attack afterwards unless they had to. Looking out from the railings you could see the scorched and scarred remains of our once mighty fleet. On the horizon there were no more Kirovs lording amongst the transports. Among the embarked troops the air of superiority had faded, our games of chess and majang were no longer filled with boisterous insults and betting. There were whispers that the fleet was turning around, that we were headed home, defeated. Hopeful men them all, anyone with half a brain could look from the railings and see the sun circle above us from starboard to port.\n\nAs we approached the Bahamas the mood began to change again. The weather was beginning to ease up and the embarked men were once again venturing out onto the deck in large numbers. You could see Florida off the starboard side and the coast of Cuba off the port side. Back in Incheon we had taken bets on where we would be attacked. Every single one said the Americans would make their last stand in this narrow stretch of water. The few radios that worked were speaking of air attacks, but nothing that would be deemed a 'last stand'. No one had seen or heard from those subs back near Cape Verde...\n\nThe rest of the journey was fairly peaceful, an odd thought really considering we'd begun packing our gear and readying to disembark. Maybe it was because we were finally going to get off those damned ships? Word was we were to be put ashore in Gulf Port Mississippi. The few of us who had traveled the USA before the war found that hilariously stupid. Apparently this whole stretch of land was full of inbred retards with more guns than we had! That's stupid of course, we were an international coalition armed to the teeth, no rag tag militia could possibly compete with us.\n\nThe landings went pretty smoothly. The landing ships disembarked from their motherships and headed for shore. Tanks and APCs went out first, swarming up the beach by the hundreds and into the town of Gulf Port. There was no contact reported, in fact, no one even mentioned spotting a civilian. That really should've been our first hint that something was wrong, but I guess command just thought the Americans had evacuated the town. Our armored forces surged forth to the airport as our infantry began to land across the beaches. Thousands of men and women poured from the LCACs, their guns at the ready.\n\nAs we trudged off the beaches and began clearing the city, reports began to flow in about each house already being empty. More evidence of evacuation it was guessed. Our mechanized forces reported the airport destroyed, completely. The Americans had gone so far as to pour giant concrete mounds onto the runways. Where there weren't mounds there were craters fifteen feet deep. You have to admire the resolve really. Then suddenly the network was full of calls for medics and announcements of units taking fire. All across our lines, everywhere a unit was anywhere near a patch of forest we were taking casualties. Then the city itself caught fire. Thousands of our men were clearing houses and suddenly every last one of them was on fire. Near as we could figure, the Americans had set fire to their natural gas piping. Regardless of how they did it, we found ourselves engulfed in an inferno.\n\nOrders came down to retreat to the beaches and main thoroughfares until the flames had burned themselves out. This was bad, our mechanized forces were isolated to the north at the useless airport while our infantry were spread across the beaches and the central freeway going through town. It was a cacophony, explosions and the raging of the flames. Were these gas explosions or munitions? The radios were full of static, screaming men and calls for help from our mechanized brigades. They were under heavy fire from all sides and heading north west in an effort to link up with the infantry on the 49. None of them ever made it. When the flames finally burned out and we were able to get to the airport all we could find were tattered US and Confederate flags scattered amongst our burnt out vehicles. Some of the veterans were whispering that there weren't enough tanks here. That the Americans must've captured some.\n\nWe never did find where the sniper fire was coming from, and it sure as hell didn't stop. It wasn't terribly accurate, maybe one in five shots hit its mark, but it was endless. All hours of the day from every angle, there was no cover. The only safety was in the center of the burnt out ruins of Gulfport. Normally we'd have called down artillery, air or naval strikes on suspected positions, but we'd lost nearly all of those assets in the Atlantic. The orders came down to move north. We'd spent far too long on this little beach and it was time to take what we'd come for.\n\nAs we approached the freeway to the north, we realized the Americans had blown out every bridge on it. It was useless, we'd have to travel along the beach or frontage roads to get to the Mississippi. Damn the Americans, we'd hardly seen a single one and yet we were stuck in a maze like a rat! As the column turned off onto the frontage road, we started taking fire. The woods were alive with shouting and bullets. They called us names I'd never heard in accents I'd never even read about. Our men were cut down, I was lucky to make it back to the main column on the 49. There were maybe a dozen survivors with me. A dozen out of the hundred and ninety we'd sent as force reconnaissance.\n\nYamamoto may be dead, but that son of a bitch sure as shit wasn't wrong.", "Started wit' cows, a-hollarin'. Maybe three, four in morn? Caused a ruckus so I kick'd the Boy up, told him to git and find out what was disturbin' them. Steers ain't the brightest, so's liable to start away from their own shadow, if'n they seen it. \n\nCourse, weren't no shadow that scared'm this time. Boy's feet had hardly stopped squeakin' on the porch outside when the cries stopped. I knew then it were bad.\n\nBoy came back 'bout quarter hour later, tells me to come out. Wouldn't say why, but I could see, even in the dark of the bedroom, his eyes were slick with tears. Was moonless; what them army boys call Dark of the Moon? When else they gonna attack? Them critters was smart, f'sure. \n\nWasn't a long walk, but sure felt like it. Dark as pitch, an' the only sound the squelch of boot on mud. It was might unnervin', specially with the occasional whimper from the Boy, who still wouldn't say what he was bringin' me to see. There was no sound from the field. Probably would have shat m'britches if I hadn't tucked my 12-gauge under arm.\n\nCattle was all dead. Had been by the time Boy got there, an' no sign of what did it. Some had holes in head. Some's didn't even have a head. Bloodiest field you'd ever see, guts and gristle smeared over every blade of grass. And those cattle dn't die easy, neither. Some animals, rabbits and such, their little hearts ain't built for sorrow, will just drop dead of shock. But cows, they's may be dumb, but they're hardy. There was no mercy in that field.\n\nTurned out, was the first night of the invasion. Before the fella on the radio got his warnin' out, and we started to know what was what. Got a hell of a lot worse after that. Boy went to war, never came back. Lost my leg at Second Chickamauga. Still smell the charred bodies we had to burn in Jackson. \n\nBut you ask me the worst night? T'was the first. Standin' in that field, among my cattle. I knew why the Boy didn't say nothin'; weren't nothin' to say. So I held him, and we cried together, and I clutched that there shotgun in my palm, thanked the good Lord for the second amendment, and promised I'd get me whoever did this.\n\nCritters were smart. Were dumb to start their war on my patch, though.\n\nSgt Ron Harlin, 45th Volunteers", "Captain Zu ducked and doved for the nearest ditch. A ford F-150 went screeching by, bed mounted machine gun blaziyng thru the night. He didnt even have to look to know what flag flew from the tailgate. Soldiers screamed and rallied for a defence but the truck was long gone by now. \n\n'Fucking rednecks,\" he said to the Russian soldier who found the same ditch. The soldier just stared at him blankly and held up a snake. A snake with a white mouth. One swig of vodka and a prayer later later the private slit his own neck. Cotton mouth bites are one hell of a way to go. \"Fuck the south.\"\n\nThe coalition did not think it thru, China and Russia along with their allies had decided on the Gulf to invade. The Mississippi would allow them to funnel supplies up thru the center of the country and devide it. Easy to conquer then. Problem was the the people here seemed to get off on this. \n\nZu had fought against the radical Islam fighters in the Western deserts of his own country. He and his Russian counterparts were used to insurgencies but this was something different. The Americans didnt do much damage to there ranks, but there constant small attacks left his forces extreamly demoralized. \n\nHe got up and called HQ.\n\n'Get me some god-damn air support!'\n\nHQ: \"What happened?\"\n\nZu: \"Another hit and run\"\n\nHQ: \"Zu we've been thru this before, we dont have enough resources to track down and destroy every redneck with a gun. We need to save our resources to fight the army. In fact...\"\n\nHQ never finished its thought. The ground exploded around him. F-22 and A-10's rained fire down around him. 'What the fuck?!' he thought. The Americans didnt have any forces in 100 miles of his location. Suddenly he heard the sound of music over the sound of gunfire and death rising up from around him. It was like the sound of the Devil singing and a band of demons joining in, and it sounded something like this...\n\n'... got a chopper in the air. I've learned a thing or two from charlie dont you know. You've better stay away from copperhead road!'\n\nSure enough it dawned on Zu what had happened. In true Viet Cong style the Americans rushed out of the swamps and forests; in trucks, flat bottom boats and by foot. All over the Southeast with so much firepower it must have took the last few months to accumulate. This was the end. They ran so fast the hounds couldnt catch them, down the Mississippi to the Guld of Mexico.\n\n" ]	5
How bad the Earth is ruined and where/who/how many are imprisoned is up to you, as well what the rest of humanity is up to.	[WP] Humanity has spread out into the solar system via means of quick, sub-light speed travel. Whats left of the shattered, toxic ruins of Earth have become a penal colony. Write a story about the colony.	[ "His chews are obnoxious, with every crunch and swallow grating on my ears. He's oblivious to this, of course, and stares out the window once again.\n\nI continue reading. I don't know what the book is called. The cover's been torn off along with the publication pages. It's about a bunch of people hunting this thing called Moby Dick, which is some kind of animal apparently. The worn, yellowed pages were a stark contrast to the holographic data pads everyone used to have. \n\n\"What are you going to do when you get outta here?\" asked my cell mate between juicy bites of his rotten apple.\n\nI pause. \"A bath. A nice bubble bath.\"\n\n\"Shit, you sound like a pussy.\"\n\nI give him the finger and read on.\n\n\"(Laughs) Ah, I'm just fuckin' witcha. See, I want a huge big ass, 18 ounce steak. Also, I'm getting fucked.\" He made a thrusting motion with his hips. \"Hell, I miss tits. How much do you think hookers cost these days?\"\n\n\"Gee, I dunno Kal, go look it up or somethin', I'm busy here.\"\n\n\"Got something stuck up your ass?\"\n\n\"Something's going to get stuck up your ass if you don't stop bothering me.\"\n\n\"Ouch. Hark, I thought we were friends, hehe.\"\n\nNo, we're damn cellmates. \n\nKal continued, despite my threat. He knew I wouldn't do it, not because I was not capable of it, but because I needed him to get cigarettes and shanks.\n\nHe had told me that he was inside for money laundering, but I highly doubt that's the case. Everyone lies to my face here.\n\nDo your own time. That was the rule I imposed on myself. Don't reveal your family, friends, nothing. You get through your sentence, then you get out. \n\nAn armored man carrying a baton strolls past the cell, meeting my eyes for a brief moment. They were swirling with hate.\n\nI tried to get back into the novel. It didn't work, so I slammed it down on my dirty cot and took a piss. When you've been on Earth so long, privacy becomes a feeble concern. \n\n\"Did you hear? Machine is getting out today. Insane bloke, man.\"\n\n\"He's 71st Legion. Of course he's insane. The entrance exam exiles you to Bandur for 80 days.\" I zip up and head back to my cot.\n\n\"I wish I would get out...\"\n\n\"You and me both.\"\n\n...\n\nIt's hard to sleep here. It's even harder to dream.\n\nThe sounds of inmates getting ambushed get pretty disturbing at first, but you learn to ignore it.\n\nIgnorance is bliss. \n\nOne time, a Red Star gang member was being choked to death in the showers. I was there to witness it. But I did nothing, nothing except clean my pits and wash my junk before drying off and walking to my cell.\n\nThis isn't a place for heroes. \n\nSometimes I dream of my wife on occasionally quiet nights. She looked so lovely, made life bearable. \n\nThis was not one of those nights, as I was stirred awake by the sound of crumbling and whining noise, like a high speed plasma saw cutting through titanium bars.\n\nI sat up to see dozens of guards run down the metal walkway, weapons cocked and ready to hustle. \n\nOne of the guards was taken down immediately. \n\nI waited five seconds, and joined Kal, watching the guard's face melt off like vanilla ice cream in a microwave.\n\n\"Lasers...\" muttered Kal. Whoever these guys were, they weren't messing around.\n\n\"We have a breach in the supermax wing. Initiate cell lockdown. Subject is armed and extremely hostile. All units have kill-on-sight authorization.\" growled the captain into his comm.\n\nSomeone's escaping. With help.\n\nThe complex rattled and shook for five more minutes before the noises died down. All of the other prisoners were shouting and cheering, including Kal. \n\n\"Shit. Shit. Shit, fucking shit.\" I heard a guard say. \"Prisoner 1078 has escaped containment, aerial pursuit is requested. Be advised, there are four other...\"\n\nI walk back to my cot, and wipe my face with some water. \n\n\"Shit, that was crazy...\" said Kal.\n\nI say nothing but my mind digests on the events.\n\nI know who prisoner 1078 is, and what she did. \n\nThe fact that someone took the time and effort to break into Celestion Penitentiary to get her out worries me.\n\nSomething big is happening, and it's only a matter of time before others find my role in it. \n\n\n", "It took two long years, but I finally had a plan.\n\nOfficially, of course, the Manhattan Detention Facility doesn't exist. There are no records. If it had a shipping address, it would probably look something like this: Earth, North American Coalition, District Thirty-six, New York City, 350 5th Avenue. Oh, and don't forget the seven miles of granite and concrete overhead.\n\nUnofficially, it doesn't exist either.\n\nSee, Manhattan is no prison. It's a black hole, a bottomless chasm specifically designed for prisoners of war. A ticket here is inherently a one-way ticket. You aren't sent here to serve a sentence, you're sent here to disappear. And that isn't even the end; the death penalty would be a waste of both the neural interface and a potential source of intel. And so - surprise - a blind eye has become a commonplace condition in the general vicinity of Manhattan. The needs of the many, right? Federal law doesn't apply below twelve different layers of lead shielding.\n\nAnyway, back to the plan.\n\nWell, not quite. First, (probably should've started with this, but whatever) for anyone who finds this message, my name is Tycho Nguyen, Earth Nations Citizen ID-99970459. I have been held against my will in a secret federal prison for the past two years without trial or formal arrest. And I want everyone to know that I was doing the right thing.\n\nThe war began approximately five years ago, by my count. The central planets had always had issues with colonization. That could have had something to do with the open contempt that colonists had for the central planets. Maybe it evolved as a by-product of the fact that it was Simon Lorenzo, a Belter colonist, who invented the first successful fusion drive, forcing the federal government to bow and scrape just to get its foot inside the door of the auction room. \n\nRegardless, when several colonies stood up and asked for the right to declare independence, Earth Nations laughed and flipped them off. Within an hour after the conference was over, the central planets had shut down all communications with the colonies. Within a day, Earth and Mars had begun chucking destroyers at heavy burn into the Belt. Within several weeks, several colonial governments had been forcibly retired and martial law had been declared. Within the month, a large number of colonies had begun to openly support a radical anti-central movement calling themselves the Allied Colonial Defense, and six EN facilities and ships had been attacked.\n\nWithin two months, the central planets and the colonies were at war.\n\nAt that time, I had recently received a promotion to deputy undersecretary to the EN secretary general. Basically, it meant that I was an intern to the secretary of the most powerful individual in the Solar System. Not bad, for a twenty-year-old Shandong farmboy with nothing but an accent and a degree in political science.\n\nNow, here, I just want to reiterate (or iterate, if it wasn't already clear), I love Earth. I only wanted to help.\n\nIt was around then that I was contacted by a small faction of several individuals working for Earth Nations as well. They, like me, were appalled by the absolute idiocy of the war; unlike me, they had both the strategy and the resources to end it early. They needed my influence over the secretary general, and I needed their end goals. I agreed.\n\nTheir plan was based on an agreement with several of our counterparts working for the ADC. In fact, the entire colonial government - with the exception of the extremist branch - heavily supported our pact; outclassed and outgunned, it was likely that the colonies would lose more than they would gain, regardless of the outcome of the war. It was agreed. We would secretly negotiate a ceasefire, putting enough support behind the order to countermand the direction of the EN Council. Using the cooperation of the colonial government, we would then use our sympathizers to force the signing of a treaty that would allow the colonies their independence.\n\nBut somewhere during the execution of our plan, we were betrayed. Most of us were arrested by federal agents and disappeared. I was one of them.\n\nAnd so there I was. But now, finally, my plan becomes relevant.\n\nIt was an escape plan. Even a black hole fails to contain light; even in a place like this, there are flaws which can be exploited. And it's done its job perfectly, so far. But now, I have some problems.\n\nAt the moment, I'm lying on the floor of one of the emergency elevators, propped up against the wall. One of my hands is holding a stolen Kalashnikov; periodically, I reach around the corner to return fire, quickly pulling back to avoid the rapid answering volleys. My other hand is alternating between pressing the record key on this datastick and keeping pressure on the laser burn in my stomach (There's a lot of blood. Is there supposed to be so much blood?). I'm just killing time, waiting for the program I dropped into the facility's main server to activate the elevator. And I'm recording this message so that, in the event that I don't make it, maybe something will.\n\nYes! The elevator just began to move.\n\nOw. Fuck.\n\nI think I might black-\n\n_________________________________________________________________\n\nThe datastick drops from the prisoner's fingers as he reaches for the medkit he stole from the medical wing. It clatters against the titanium-ceramic floor, cutting through the peripheral thrum of the magnetic accelerators powering the elevator. The prisoner strips an adrenaline patch from the kit and slaps it onto his wrist. His head snaps back, nostrils flaring, as the chemicals enter his bloodstream.\n\nEach second is an hour for the prisoner as he lies prone, collapsed on the floor. He's lost count of the patches he's gone through. At least he can no longer feel the pain.\n\nAbruptly, the elevator slows to a halt. The doors open with a pneumatic hiss, and the prisoner throws his arms up to cover his eyes with a gasp as the first sunlight he's felt in two years floods through the doors.\n\nNo.\n\nNot sunlight.\n\nShielding his eyes, the prisoner stands clutching his stomach. The Kalashnikov clatters to the floor beside him. He takes a clumsy step forward, hand braced against the wall.\n\nThe world outside the doors is obscured by a dense haze of smoke, too thick to see through. From ahead, a light is piercing through it. The prisoner stumbles out of the elevator in daze, moving towards the light. He vaguely perceives struggling forward as the ground slopes upwards.\n\nThe prisoner reaches the top of the hill, and the smoke clears. In front of him, a crumbling skyscraper has somehow retained its original form, a solemn obelisk reaching into the sky. The tattered remains of a flag drift aimlessly from the flagpole jutting towards the sky, shedding ashes, and two words are barely visible over the broken doors:\n\nEMP RE STA E\n\nTycho Nguyen drops to his knees." ]	2
	[WP] Tell me the story of the death of the last human.	[ "Day 289: The female has succumb to her mental state, taking her own life in the night. She scratched her hands against the wall until she was rubbing bone on brick. It was using her ensuing compound fractures in her hands that she that she sliced her throat with. Clean up was a hassle but required if we need to keep the male alive. He saw it all. The human psychology experts are worried about how he will handle it. \n\nDay 304: The first week was tough, trying to keep him alive. Safe from himself. The male would 'cry' (as the linguists have informed me is the verb) most of the time. An unusual act performed by these animals as a show of sadness. Why they do, we don't fully understand. They are dehydrating themselves, expelling moisture from their eyes. It has no evolutionary positive we understand. \n\nDay 380: He isn't the same at all. Coming up to 100 days alone, he has changed. The animal now talks to himself, changing his pitch and facial expressions as if mimicking a second human to talk to. We think he sees things too. He seems to interact with the nothingness around him. However, as a positive, he hasn't tried to harm himself in the past few weeks. Even shows signs of happiness. Though I've been informed that those signs of happiness are fake. They aren't sure, but its almost complete madness. He smiles and expresses normal signs of happiness, but his eyes don't coincide with that emotion. They seem off to me. Empty.\n\nDay 417: He doesn't move. The human sits in his cell staring at the wall. As someone noted, its where the female scratched at the wall. He does nothing but look at the bricks. The night staff have to enter the chamber and clean him of his waste and give him his nutrients via IV. Yet, when they enter, he does not react what so ever. \n\nDay 453: He tried to walk today. His frail legs couldn't hold his weight and he just collapsed. It was in that collapsed state that he stayed until his dinner time came. There was though a reaction when the staff entered to clean his cell. His eyes. They closed slightly, gazing straight forward as the staff around him did their jobs. I haven't seen that look in months. \n\nDay 454: The male tried to escape. At least that't what we are being told. I watched the footage myself. As the night staff entered to do their usual duties, the human, very calmly stood and walked towards the open door. His legs struggled but he determinedly continued. The staff followed procedure, backed up and pulled their knives in a defensive position. Then, the human looked straight into the hidden camera lens and said, in our language \"Why?\" before lunging his head into the knife. ", "I raised him when I took his parents. It was a mistake, I never bothered to count. I never thought to consider that they were the last ones. And because of my ignorance I am cursed to see my own death in tandem with his.\n\nI took him everywhere from the day I found him. We saw the wonders of his world, and the mysteries of mine. He came with me to the edge of this cold universe as we watched the last stars die out and the infinite that was, enveloped itself back into the silence from which it began.\n\nHe's old now. Clinging to the black fabric that surrounds me. He never learned to speak, there was no need, but I can see the fear in his eyes as clear as he can see mine. It's ironic that I chose to prolong someone's life, I know. But now his time has run out. I raise my hand to his head and end it as I have so many times before. And in that second, I have made myself without further purpose. There is nothing left for me now. All I can do is fade as well.", "The last human barely survived an hour. Born into a world that had already moved past her species, she was alone from the very start, her mother having died seconds after her birth. She would never know love, comfort, hope, or even fear. She never learned anything about who she was or who she might have been. And so, alone, she died never having lived.\n\nIt is thus that when asked the story of the last human it is not her story which is told, but rather that of her mother. Still, it would be a disservice to them both to forget the last of their kind.", "There was no twinkle in the sky. Just a dark matte that engulfed the view in all horizons. The moon was no longer round, just a cracked millet that drifted to what ever kept a watch beyond, in the unseen.\n\nThe man leaned back on the concave, egg like rock, that entrenched it self on the hill side. It was cool. Smooth and cool. He could feel it even through thick fur and two woolen sweaters that puffed him up like a blow fish. He imagined it was a smooth brown alabaster surround by a mane of puffed wild grass, swooning in the fall breeze. He could feel the falling evening sun flushing his skin; a burnt maroon glow with a faint warmth. He reached out with his right hand through multiple layers of gloves to grab the tufts of grass, to bring it close to his nose, to smell the dirt, to smell the Earth.\n\nIce. He felt nothing more, grasping at all directions. The smooth tempered with some jaggedness, and the universal cool that burned through the gloves. He didn't even know what alabaster felt like, he concluded it was a large sugar cube, gritty, pocked with smoothness. Warm of course, brown had to be warm, or so he imagined. His current seat was a sheen of glass with a perfect curvature for his back and behind, ice, like everything else. He looked below, a 40-50 feet drop before his sight gave way to darkness. The tumbling water which had hardened to ice, shone in the faint glow of the millet-ed moon above. He had never seen a live water fall, but imagined it to be a magnificent sight when it roared with laughter. He had never seen a sun rise or a sun set either, perpetual darkness, in a night that never seemed to end. He wanted to experience the day time he had seen in so many picture and films but his imagination had to suffice. The sun was long gone, just a manure brown glimmer from a dot that barely kept the moon aglow and darkness at bay.\n\nAcross the crevasse, he could make out an outline of a limb. He wasn't sure if it was an arm or a leg, but it was stiff, life less, wrapped around a giant icicle that sprang up straight from the ground. It was his wife. The only person he had known for the last decade. They made the trek across the endless ice fields when their living pod couldn't muster enough power to function any longer. They hadn't a clue what they hoped to see, find, or gain. The last human they heard from was a dying child, delirious, emaciated, who did not speak. He swung himself off a cliff, into the crack in the ice. That was 20 years ago. The last human remain they saw was an arm, that was 12 years ago. \n\nShe always was a hopeless optimist. \n\nThe man walked with his wife for 3 days. He couldn't stand well any longer, neither could she. His legs buckled under the weight of the coat, boots, and sweater. She decided to lead the way, her vision had always been superior, she was the better one to guide in the poor swathes of light. He kept a tight hold of her palm, with the thumb hugging the belly of his own palm. He could feel her pulse, the blood rushing through her thumb; it was getting fainter by the day. But he wasn't going to let her go, as long as he had that hand, felt that beat, that life in the thumb, he was OK, he was safe, he had purpose.\n\nThey slept when one of their knees buckled and they simply couldn't lift the other up. There was no shelter, they hoped to a find a hanging shelf of ice and lie in an embrace hoping to wake up when the hour called upon them. They were sleeping more often, but so far had woken up, in that same embrace. \n\nThey did the same the last time. He remembered grabbing her thumb and clasping it in his hand, he knew he had it. He could feel the thump of her pulse, he counted \"1,2,3,...\" like always, looking into her sapphire eyes, till he drifted into sleep.\n\nIt was different when she woke up this time. She was there, her thumb was there, he felt the first beat, the second was faint, and he couldn't feel the third. He shook her awake, she was there, barely. She couldn't get up, her arms barely moved. He grabbed her limp body and pushed as hard as he could against the icy floor, his knees buckled, and they both flopped, sliding to a large icicle which sprang from the ground, finally braking their momentum. Her head lay right at the foot of the icicle, he could see her breathing was faint, and the crest of her nose and the flesh at the orbital were turning into an azure hue.\n\nHe embraced her as tightly as he could, he grabbed her hand and placed her thumb on his palm and clasped it in his hand. He didn't feel anything, he feverishly counted \"1, 2, 3....\" and kept counting looking for some movement in the sapphire of her iris. \n\n\"1, 2, 3...\"\n\"1, 2, 3...\"\n\"1, 2, 3...\"\n\".............\"\n\nHe awoke, he had no clue how long he had drifted for. He looked at her lying next to him, her eyes were closed. He felt nothing in her thumb, her face had turned into a deep purple. He looked up and saw the frozen waterfall locked in eternal dance.\n\nHe found his concave egg seat on the frozen fall and sat there, imaging all the red, brown, and greens of the pictures he had once seen. How he would have loved to see them one more time. He gazed at the millet moon once again, he knew he would never find that perfect moment there. He thought back to the kid who flung him self into the crack of ice all those years ago, funny he could still remember his face. His emerald eyes looked like a reflection of endless green prairies lost in consciousness; even in that haze, the kid had happiness.\n\nAn ever so slight, uneven smirk etched it self on the crest of the man's lip, curving into a piped silhouette. He was filled with warmth and happiness. He took his coat off, flung his gloves wildly, peeled his sweaters off, and stood their bare chested under the dim pearls of the broken moon. He took a deep breath, did a grandstand, and whisked himself off his egged seat into the warmth of the darkness below. \n\nA hopeless optimist.", "\"There's something wrong in the core! The power output is off the scale and rising!\" \n\nThe engineer's words echoed on every comm link over the emergency frequency. The faint orange hazard lighting in the halls did not adequately convey the gravity of the situation. A disaster of this magnitude deserved sirens and flashing red lights, but I suppose the designers of the ship did not foresee something like this happening. The other three of us who weren't in hibernation rushed to the engine room. \n\nI was the first to arrive after James' plea for help. He looked up from the console as I burst into the room, the look on his face was oddly calm. \n\n\"James! Did you fix it? Was it a false alarm?\"\n\nHis mouth was slightly ajar, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly from side to side. \n\n\"....no...\" \n\nHe grabbed the console and turned it around so it was facing me. I must have read the numbers a dozen times before they registered in my brain. \"Core output: 1,500,000 PetaWatts\" A number so unimaginably huge, it lost all meaning to me. During our trip towards Proxima Centauri we had expected to reach just over 50% light speed before we started decelerating for our destination, but the monitor was telling me that we were going 85% light speed and climbing.\n\n\"We have to wake up Dr. Kargan!\" A voice shouted behind me. Daniel must have been looking over my shoulder at the monitor. \n\n\"There's no time.\" \n Crissy placed a hand gently on Daniel's broad shoulder. She gripped the material and bit her lip. \n \"You know what we have to do.\"\n\nWe all knew our parts for the emergency evacuation procedure. I ran towards the hibernation chambers and prepared our crew of 45 for the longest sleep on record, lowering the temperature of their bodies from 50 degrees to just above freezing. They would be jettisoned back toward Earth, as best we could, however with the tremendous speed we were going, it would just mean that they would be rocketing away from Earth just a little slower than us. Who knows, after their mayday beacons reach Earth, they might be rescued in fifty years or so. Hopefully the hibernation chambers last that long.\n\nThe entire craft jolted when the hibernation chambers dislodged, they were almost half of the ship's weight. All that was left of the spaceship proper was basically an engine, small sleeping quarters and a bridge. The escape pod was attached to the bridge. The others were waiting for me, buckled into their seats, with enough provisions gathered to last us two years at the most. The escape pod was quick, but we would still need to be rescued before we ran out of food and water.\n\n\"Everyone ready?\" I didn't wait for an answer. I buckled into my chair and prepared for the pod to jettison when I flipped open the protective cover of the release button. Metal clinked around the airlock when I jammed my thumb onto the release, but we were sitting still.\n\n\"What happened?!\" Crissy grabbed Daniel's hand and looked to him for answers even though he was a medic and had only a cursory knowledge of the workings of the ship.\n\nJames spoke up. \n\"It's stuck.\" \n He let out a sigh and caught my eye. We both knew what had to happen. The airlock would have to be manually closed from inside the main ship, and then the pod would have to be forcibly jettisoned.\n\"We could draw straws or...\"\n\n\"No.\" I interrupted. \"I'm the commanding officer now. You will stay in your seats. I stood and ducked through the airlock. Turning back, I could see the fear in their eyes. I don't know if it was for me, or for themselves.\n\n\"You'll make it home.\" I smiled and closed the airlock. I hope they believed that, because I sure didn't. They drifted into the inky black, but not as slowly as I would have expected. We.... I, was still accelerating. I sat at the captains chair and looked through the front window. He wouldn't mind, he was frozen in a tube ten million miles away. \n\nThe stars were bluer than normal. I look down at the gauges. The power reading from the core was worthless. \n\"Negative one Watt, my ass.\" \n\nThe speed was disconcerting. 99.99999999999% light speed. It was as many decimals as would read out, but I was sure I was still accelerating. The stars were no longer visible now. Their light had blue-shifted past ultraviolet, and out of visible range, but the sky wasn't dark. It burned a dull red, like the last coal from a fire.\n\n\"Oh no. They're all dead. Everyone.\" It just hit me. Time dilation. I ran a quick query to display the rate at which I was moving through time compared to Earth. The number popped up on the display, and I had to count the zeroes. They died seconds after I ejected them. I was careening through time at an impossible rate. James,Daniel, Crissy... They've been dead for thousands, shit, millions of years now. I wonder if they made it home. I wonder if there is a home anymore. \n\nThe sky was glowing brighter now. \n\n\nI am the last human alive. There can be no question. I left Earth three billion years ago and counting. If there was anyone left alive, they've long since evolved to the point that they can't even be considered human anymore. \n\nOur sun was dead. It swelled and scorched the Earth long ago, leaving it a barren wasteland like Mars.\n\n Time loses meaning. The sky is a light yellow now. I can feel the spacecraft trembling as it reaches speeds and energies undreamed of. My speed is so close to light now as makes no difference. Eons fly by in the blink of an eye. \n\nIf there was other life in the universe, it's dead now too. Just me. A trillion light years from a home that died before any of the stars around me were born. \n\nAll the stars are dead now. The sky is so bright. \n\n\n" ]	5
	[WP] You have won the planet Earth in the 265th annual Inter-Galactic lottery. You have studied Earth's customs for the last 5 years, and today you must address the Earthen leaders and explain why you now own their planet.	[ "The gray Honda Civic weaved in and out of traffic and came screeching to a halt in front of the United Nations Building in New York City. I hopped out of the car and raced up the steps to the front door of the building, tightly clutching a piece of paper in my left hand. I was dressed in a black suit and had on a very nice Omega watch which i had to take off as I went through the metal detector at the downstairs security checkpoint. Fortunately I was able to trick the security guards into thinking I was some diplomat's translator at this annual UN summit meeting. I frantically ran down the halls of the UN searching for the main chamber. \n\n\"Hey you! Stop!\" a security guard yelled at me. \"You need a clearance to enter this floor. Where's your clearance?\"\n\n\"Fuck off!\" I screamed as i turned and ran the other way. \n\"Control this is Two-Fourty-Seven, i've got a white male wearing a black suit running from me on level 2!\" I heard the security guard shout into his walkie talkie. \n\nSuddenly two security guards and at least four police officers were chasing me down the hallway. \"Shit! which way is it!\" I screamed as I searched for the UN main chamber entrance door, then suddenly there it was. Two big Mahogany wooden doors with the seal of the UN on them stood in front of me. A sign placed in front of the doors read: 'Quiet please. Meeting in progress.'\n\n\"Don't go in there! Stop right now!\" one of the police officers screamed at me as he drew his weapon from his holster, but it was too late. I came bursting through the main chamber doors still running at full speed and rapidly made my way towards the stage. Loud audible gasps and shrieks filled the air as delegates and representatives from countries all over the world stood up to get a better glimpse of me making a mad dash towards the front podium. I quickly shoved the prime minister of Cambodia, who was currently giving a speech at the podium about rice crop yields, out of the way and un-crumpled the piece of paper that was in my left hand.\n\n\"Leaders of Earth!\" I panted into the podium's microphone as I tried to catch my breath. \"I stand here today to bring you unsettling, yet exciting news! I have won your pathetic planet in the 265th inter-galactic lottery and am now the sole owner of this shit-hole you call Earth. Now that I own all of you, I have a list of rules and policies that shall be put into place immediately. Rule One, as of now only-AHHH!\" I screamed and fell down as\nabout a dozen police officers tackled me to the floor and arrested me. The chamber was being evacuated as I was dragged out the front door of the UN in handcuffs into a storm of reporters and news crews with cameras. I was quickly thrown into a police car and booked into the city jail. During my court proceedings, the judge deemed me to be insane and had me committed for the rest of my life at St Mary's Institution for the Mentally Ill.\n\n", "\"I understand your concern, sir,\" I choked out, holding back laughter. \n\nThe president of the peace organization was crimson with anger and confusion. \n\n\"You and your members still own things, but I kind of own Earth... technically,\" I said, emphasizing the last word as innocently as I could. \n\n\"You can't own it, and if you try to take it...\" he trailed off. \n\nI held my hands up in innocence. \"Look, who owns Earth now?\"\n\nThe man stared. \"Well, no one - it's everyone's.\"\n\n\"OK, and who's name is right here?\" I held up the deed close to the camera and tapped my name. \n\n\"I don't give a shit what that says! We won't recognize the authority of it.\"\n\n\"Sir, I'm going to ask you something and I mean absolutely no offense by it - Is this your first contact with a non-Earthling?\"\n\nThe man turned around to a group behind him and whispered something. A woman shrugged. \n\n\"I'm not going to disclose that,\" he said.\n\n\"I'll take that as a no then. Look, I won your planet in a small time raffle. I shouldn't tell you this, but Earth wasn't even the first prize... or second. It's not worth that much to me, but a prize is a prize. I own your planet. End of story.\"\n\n\"What are... what are you going to do?\" He stammered. \n\n\"Me? Nothing really. I've studied your culture a bit and you're not really my style. Everything is about fighting and ownership of things. Seems like a gigantic headache. Plus, you're pretty far and my ship is broken at the moment. If I had to guess, I'd say I'll probably lose your planet in a bet or pawn you off at some point.\"\n\nWhoever this man was, I'm sure when he was putting on his pants this morning he didn't think he'd have to defend the honor of his planet today. \n\nThe man huddled with the group behind him before responding. Several of them were waving their arms wildly and yelling. \n\n\"How much do you want for it?\" He finally said. \n\n\"You can't be serious.\"\n\n\"We are prepared to make a very serious offer,\" he said. \n\n\"How much?\" My curiosity was taking hold. \n\n\"One trillion dollars,\" the man said. \n\nI sat as still as I could muster. With my hand that was out of view of the camera I waved to my friends to stop laughing. \n\n\"How about one point five,\" I said. It was starting to become difficult to keep my composure. \n\nThe group became a flurry of activity. One person had at least four phones held up to his face. He was no doubt speaking to some of the most powerful people on his planet, or my planet, I should say. \n\nI finally lost it. The entire group stared in a grave silence as I cackled and blubbered. \n\n\"I'm... sorry. Really, I'm sorry,\" I said, willing my smile away and wiping a year from my eye. \n\nThe man said nothing. \n\n\"God help you if you ever meet the Jawgers,\" I said. \n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Never mind. Look, let's just forget about the whole thing. I didn't mean for you to get all riled up. I was merely calling to say hello,\" I said. \n\n\"How do you know English?\" the man asked suspiciously. \n\nMy god, they're infants. \n\n\"How are you going to chronicle this historical exchange?\" I asked, ignoring his question. \n\nMore stares. \n\n\"Time to go.\"\n\nI was getting bored. I hung up before the man said anything further. \n\nEveryone laughed together. I neatly tucked the deed into my desk and turned to my friends. \n\n\"Let's call them back in another thousand years. Maybe they'll have grown. You never know.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n", "“Dear bags of meat of planet Earth.\n\nI am Lu Sing Gaja, from the planet Gu Larsdsh, next to what you call the Pleiades. I’m pleased to tell that I am now, your new ruler.\n\nThanks for those primitive sounds that I interpret as a sign of emotion and cheerfulness. I am grateful that the mind connection settled by the leaders of the Space Congress between you, primitive carbon forms, allow you to understand my speech.\n\nNow, you must be wondering, if you can think, how did this magnificent alien became the ruler of this obnoxious planet? Well, it so happens that every New Year, which is the day in which the universe completes a lap around the black hole at its center, the Space Congress makes a lottery, offering the most primitive planets of each zone of the universe. This year, the zone of the Milky Way was chosen. Of course, my planet wasn’t between the bets, since we are far from being a primitive world. We discovered light speed 10 million earth years ago, cloning 100 million years ago, and cryogenic preservation about 70 million years ago. You, on the other hand, won’t discover light speed on the next 700 years, which is the requirement to join the Congress. \n\nBack to my point, this year I won the lottery, using my divorce date. Finally something good came from my marriage. To be fair, the translation is very poor, as the concept of marriage in my planet is far from being even similar to yours. We just couldn’t find a more accurate word or expression that your weak mind would understand.\n\nAnyway, I have been granted the right to rule over this planet and every life form on its surface. Previous explorations of this planet recorded by my co-planetarians shown that you are willing to pray to anyone who is different from, so, as you can see, I am your god now. Other records have shown that this specie in particular is extremely tasty and a delightful dish on other planets. I will harvest you so other planets can enjoy you. \n\nBy the way, don’t try to offer resistance. Your funny nuclear weapons are meaningless compared to our force fields and laser beams. \n\nEnjoy your slavery.”\n" ]	3
	[WP]Staring at the night sky, you notice an oddly twinkling star. It's like it's trying to say something to you	[ "There I lay upon the ground,\n\nLooking up onto the sky,\n\nListening as I hear a sound,\n\nA star asking me if I can fly.\n\nI rest my beer next to me,\n\nAs I think I may be smashed,\n\nThere are no people around whom I can see,\n\nFuck it, I must be trashed.\n\nThen I hear this voice again,\n\nWords sinking into my ear,\n\nMaybe this voice is in my brain,\n\nBut I know these words I hear.\n\nWait, I now recall a tale from the earliest of time,\n\nWhich laid out this star's idea,\n\nHe waited to speak to those who could rhyme,\n\nKnowing they're the last hope for Crimea.", "I've noticed it every night since then. A thousand nights and a thousand days have come and gone, and still, the twinkling catches me. Right as I close my eyes to sleep, through the tiny crack in the blinds next to my head, a singular star seems to sing from whatever distant galaxy in which it resides. Lately, it has lulled me to sleep, with a shimmering silence that somehow, I realize only I can notice. I wonder if she made that star. Hell, I wonder sometimes if she is that star. \n\n\"You know that I'm never going to leave you?\" she said. A little over three years ago, amidst the agonizing array of machines assisting her breathing, the soft timbre of her voice lifted to my ears. It sounded cliche but at the moment was the only thing I wanted to hear.\n\n\"I know\", I told her, half-heartedly flashing a smile, which I know now would be the last look I would ever give her.\n\n\"I can't leave you!\" she coughed through the respirator. \"Remember, we are all made of s...\". Her eyes opened wide as if she were excited. Furiously the machines began to wail and I watched, woefully and without a way to save her as her chest rose and fell for the last time. It was oddly peaceful in a way. There wasn't any time for the doctors to react, nor were there 25 mourning members of the family around saying tearful goodbyes. I take solace in the fact that our last moment together was ours alone, as it gave me a good time to contemplate what the last word of her last sentence might have been. \n\nI have known now for quite a while what she was going to say to me. Ever since the day I told her \"I love you\" for the first time, I've called her \"my smile of stars\". Youthful angst leads to a lot of atheistic idealism, and back then the concept of religion I found to be wholly detestable. So in a way to make up something cheesy to tell my new-found love about how I felt with her, I came up with this idea. That we are all the product of what was once a hotly burning star, its molecules ejected from an unfathomable distance in space. After trillions of years of travelling trillions of light-years through the universe, two tiny molecules of that star settled here, and became her eyes, her hair, her beautiful smile. And by what luck were we so blessed that a piece of that same star found its way to the same tiny rock in infinite space and became me, in just enough proximity to her to catch a glimpse of the otherworldly twinkle of the firelight in her eyes one night?\n\nIt makes it easier to sleep now. She didn't leave me, because she couldn't. And every night, right before I drift off to sleep alone in our bed, for a second I still see her smiling, next to me. Hear her voice descending from the lofty heavens. My smile made of stars." ]	2
I've always loved the idea of being able to stop time. It's not time travel but you can do whatever you want for however long you want and you won't lose any time.	[WP] A person that has been able to stop time and do whatever he wants while everyone is frozen does so again while he is sitting on a park bench but the person next to him does not freeze.	[ "Alex was starting to feel hungry. The bagel he had for lunch didn’t quite fill him up and he decided he wanted something more, something a little sweeter. But what? He scanned around the park for options. From where he sat he could see a crepe stall, a hot dog stall and an ice cream van. Ice cream! Perfect! An ice cold cone….oh yeah, chocolate and toffee! With crushed nuts…and smothered in oozing hot chocolate sauce…mmmmmmmmm! His mouth was already watering. He could almost taste the sweet chocolate sauce, he could see it slowly solidifying on the cold ice cream, dribbling onto his chin as he ate. He lifted his bag from his lap, placed it on the bench beside him and began to rummage in his pockets. As he suspected, no money! \n\nOk, he thought, where to get some cold hard cash for my cold hard ice cream? Notes were always better. Coins tended to freeze together. Notes on the other hand, could slide right out of a loose wallet, easy pickings really. Like taking candy from a…frozen baby!\nHe surveyed the people around him in the park. They guy beside him on the bench didn’t look like he would have a wad of notes, besides his trousers were doubled up where he was sitting. It is impossible to get a wallet form someone sitting down when you are in “the freeze”. Alex wasn’t even sure he had pockets, he was dressed in some kind of shiny one-piece and there was no way Alex was going to stick his had under that! Too many bad experiences had taught him that little lesson. The crazy hipster can keep his money! \nTwo girls were lying in bikinis in front of him with their bags beside them. That seemed like a better option but perhaps a bit too much hassle, there could be a lot of frozen stuff on top of their wallets, lipstip, books, shoes, the kind of shit girls carry around with them on a daily basis. Although, he though, how wouldn’t mind rummaging in their bikinis for small change. He laughed when all of a sudden the perfect target walked past. \n\nHe was a middle-aged gent, about 44-48, black hair shot with flakes of grey. He was well dressed in a dark blue suit with black shiny shoes, the sort that look really expensive, the sort that city bankers wear. Alex could just about see the flash of his gold cuff links smiling out from under his jacket sleeve. He laughed to himself – that’s the guy. He must have a ton of bills in his pocket, and he won’t even notice it if Alex liberates one or two!\n\nA he had always done, he closed his eyes, concentrated hard and stopped time. He didn’t really know how he did this, he just knew that he could. If he concentrated hard, if he felt like he really wanted it to, time would simply…stop. It was something he had been able to do all his life, there was no real moment of discovery really. His mother had him evaluated by a shrink when he was a child, as she wouldn’t believe his “tall stories”. Since then he decided that whatever this skill was, it was safer to keep it as his secret. Admittedly, it was fun in his adolescence, in fact, looking back the things he done then were probably quite illegal…rather shameful and bordering on downright indecent. But, if no one knew what happened then he figured it wasn’t really a crime. Not really worth worrying about at least!\n\nAll of a sudden that park came to a standstill. Dogs hung in the air, mouths agape beneath Frisbees. Cyclists balanced impossibly on their bikes. Birds were frozen to the sky, as if painted onto some great blue roof. Only Alex was free to move, and he was moving. Straight for the well dressed man’s pocket. As he suspected, the gentleman’s wallet was stacked. He slid one of the notes out, a 50, and placed the wallet back into the guy’s pocket. He turned towards the ice cream truck and froze. \n\nNot literally, not like the others but he was immobile. Could it be possible? Was he seeing something, some trick of the light, some sort of brain fart? The guy sat beside him on the bench was not frozen. He was so not frozen that he was walking, towards Alex. \n\nAlex tried to speak but nothing came out.\n\n“Hello Alex” said the stranger. “We have been watching you for quite some time”.\n\n“hhhh..hh.hh.hhhh…” was all Alex could stammer.\n\n“How come I am not frozen like the others? How do I know your name? He said smiling at Alex. The stranger reached into his pocket and pulled out some sort of device, like a mobile phone but skinnier and almost translucent. It light up and displayed a picture of the stranger. It read:\nDr. John Moeller, Detective, Time Breech Div. \n\n“I am afraid you are under arrest, Alex”\n\n“But…but how can….is this a joke? What for?” he stammered, not quite believing what he was seeing. \n\n“Oh I think we could pick any number of crimes Alex m’boy, Don’t you think? Not least the theft of this man’s money!”\n\n“But how come…”\n\n“…I’m not frozen?” the man interrupted. “We suspected you had no idea of what’s going on. Alex this is going to be hard to believe” The man scratched his head and looked around the park, “although given the circumstances, I think you may be a little more open minded that the rest of the folk here.”\nHe took Alex by the arm and started to walk towards the lake. “I am from the future. 113 years from now, to be precise. I work for a division called”\n\n“Time Breech” interrupted Alex. \n\n“Exactly, do you know what a time breech is?”\n\n“Well…yes,,,it’s a…well…it’s a breech in time, obviously” stammered Alex, trying not to sound to stupid. His mind was racing. He felt a heady mixture of confusion and excitement. Where was this going? Could he finally share his experiences with someone? A sickly feeling flooded into his stomach as he realised that he was in some sort of serious trouble. The stranger stared at him. \n\n“Hmmmm, well yes. About 21 years ago we had a serious time breech in the 22nd century and quite a few of you were sent back to various points in time. Ever since we have been looking for you.”\n\n“Wait, what? I am from the future, but that’s absurd?”\n\n“I’m afraid not. You were sent back through a breech in time and ended up at the end of the 20th century. You should count yourself lucky, kid, some of you were sent back to the 13th century! Anyway, somehow, the rupture that sent you back endowed you with this power…this stopping time thing. “\nAlex was confused “So you have it too then?”\n\n“No” replied the stranger pulling the picture device from his pocket. I can do it with this. I am not going to explain now, it would take to long. Needles to say, Alex, you are a very special individual.” He paused, “But you have also gotten yourself into a shit load of trouble.”\nAlex could feel the nerves jingling in his stomach. What could this guy do? Could he bring him back to the future? For some sort of punishment or what? What technology do they have there…would they wipe his mind or something crazy?\n\n“What…..what are you going to do to me?”\n\n“Nothing” smiled the stranger, “If you cooperate. If you don’t then” he laughed, \n\n“you’ll pay the ultimate price!”\nAlex wasn’t sure what that meant but he didn’t like the thought of it.\n\n“I’ll give you until tomorrow to say your goodbyes because, either way you are coming with me. If you decide to cooperate, meet me here tomorrow at 2:30 in the afternoon and we can begin your training. If you don’t, then we will have to do things the hard way”\n\n“What if I run?” said Alex, “how will you find me?”\n\n“Where would you go? I can travel through time, laughed the doctor. “I found you here, didn’t I?” he added with a menacing air of confidence. \n\n“I guess so. So I meet you here tomorrow then, at 2:30?”\n\n“No” The doctor raised a finger and pointed, “Over there, by large tree”\nAlex turned to look.\n\n“Do I have to bring anything?” he said turning back but the man had vanished. Was that real? Did that just happen? Should I run? Or go home and say goodbye? All of a sudden he was knocked to the floor by a startled dog. Time had come unstuck again. \n", "Approximately minus 304 days a discovery was made known to me. \n\nYou see, I am a Scientist. I have devoted countless hours researching the topic “time”, as others in the past have failed I too assumed failure would be absolute. Unlike my counterparts, the year 2020 Quantum Computing became accessible to the public. Thankfully the lab granted me access to private resources, motherboards, chips, cabling, LED’s, Power supplies beyond the world's wildest imaginations.\n\nI knew the formula it was simply a case of testing all the combinations, then one day I hit the correct one. I had done it, created a device which freezes time. A world to myself, the possibilities were endless. Freezing time was fantastic at first, I could surprise people by performing impossible feats- magic tricks. I could torture my enemies. I felt invincible. The one factor time control didn’t allow me, was human compatibility. Freezing time didn’t hand me friends, a love. \n\nI couldn’t have companionship . The contrasting stillness, provided by time freezing, gave me a twisted sense of clarity. You see, I am going to tell you a story.\n\nIt was a beautiful day. I decided to cherish the unfrozen time a little while longer, soak in the sunlight and listen to the birds chirping nearby. This park was my favourite place, if only I could spend an eternity in this park. I would surely destroy any time device immediately. I pause to take a breath and see a space on a nearby weathered bench. An unfamiliar face passes me a quick glance, I thought nothing of it. Taking up the seat next to the character I watch a group of children playing football, a woman running, an a teenager trying to woo his friend. “Ah the friendzone” I thought, whilst instinctively freezing time. \nI got up, pulling some beautiful flowers from the ground I place them in his hands. Perhaps today is their lucky day. I hear a cough, in the silence of the frozen world it is as noticeable as a fire alarm. I jump, slowly turning around fearing the worst. Perhaps I had been caught? I see the unfamiliar face smiling back at me from the bench. “Lovely day for time freezing, isn’t it?” He says cheekily. \n", "WHOOSH\n\nThere it is again... He knew it would happen again, but not so soon. The time keeps stopping, and as far as Carl knows he's the only one who doesn't freeze. having no control is very restricting. The second time it happened he was at a gas station and thought it would be a good idea to grab the money from the cash register. Carl isn't a very lucky person. He thought he had more time. Right as he was going to open the cash drawer time restarted. The cashier didn't question or hesitate (as they were in a part of town where cashiers always had to be on guard), he punched Carl right away. Carl had time to run away, but left most of his dignity behind. The very first time time froze for Carl wasn't very interesting. He mostly just freaked out. \n\nThree months later\n\nTime log: Temporal disturbance number 67. I think I'm on the right track. The time dilator has been sloppy. The first time I noticed him was a month ago. He was the only one still moving, but he was too far for me to reach in time. I know he must be the cause of these disturbances. I have no clue why I don't freeze with everyone else, but I'm going to find him and make him tell me. I've traced his every move for the past 4 freezes, and it looks like he's settling into a routine. He goes to the park across from his home and eats a sandwich. Obviously he's waiting to rendesvous with an accomplice. I've found out everything about this guy. He has a rock solid alias. Goes by the name \"Carl\". He does a good job of looking like an ordinary guy, but I know he's pure evil. \n\nBy this time Carl had grown accustomed to his sporratic time experience. He tried telling his wife, but she called him crazy. He tried going to the police, but they laughed. By now he just expected that maybe he really is crazy. This had happened over 60 times now, he wasn't keeping track, but he knew there had to be a way to keep himself sane. He decided to go to the park across the street if it happened while he was home, just to get out of the house. He had time to make a sandwich and go sit on the bench before it even happened. After the tenth time he noticed that the hair on the back of his neck would stand on end for the hour leading up to a freeze, so he always knew they were coming. He walks over to his usual bench, and there is already a man sitting there. He doesn't like sitting by strangers. It doesn't matter though, the man will be frozen soon anyway. \n\nWHOOSH*\n\n\"AHA!!\" The man sitting next to him jumped up and held out a gun \"I've finally caught you! Don't try anything stupid.\"\n\n\"What?! Wait, don't shoot! Who are you\"\n\n\"Keep your mouth shut and let me ask the questions\"\n\n\"What did I do?\" Asked Carl\n\n\"That's just what I'm going to find out\" Said the angry stranger. \"Tell me how you're stopping time\"\n\n\"I'm not! I was about to ask if you were stopping it.\"\n\n\"That's exactly what I thought you'd say. you're even more guilty than I expected\"\n\n\"I'm not the one stopping it, I didn't know anyone else even knew about it!\"\n\n\"Oh really, then who are you waiting for?\"\n\n\"I'm just waiting for time to restart. I didn't know what else to do\"" ]	3
	[WP] NASA astronomers have confirmed that an asteroid is going to impact the earth in less than 24 hours. You are a Fox News anchor covering the story.	[ " \"Good evening ladies and gentleman and welcome to fox news, in tonight's top story: Will Taylor Swift co-star in the new movie about spousal abuse?\n\nHere's the story with our lead anchor Bill Whitey:\"\n\n \"Bill Whitey here, and yes, rumors seem to be circulating around the web about Taylor Swifts possible roll in the upcoming Micheal Bays film \"X Chromosomes\". The Film is set in Atlanta, Taylors home town, and deals with the lasting effects of spousal abuse on neighbors and family members, Micheal Bays comments:\n\n \"It's a sci-fi thriller about the manipulation of Chromosomes to create and all female self-reproducing species that takes over the universe.\"\n\n Heart warming stuff. Taylor Commented:\n\n\"I'm not really doing movies right now, I don't know where you got this.\"\n\nThey're clearly up to something and in the usual Hollywood mystique are trying to keep production secrets under wraps.\n\nBack to you, Will Whitey.\"\n\n\"Thanks Bill, as always you're on top of the media situation in Hollywood.\n\nIn other news today it was discovered that Barrack Obama is actually a Mexican wearing shoe polish. Here's a picture my son drew of the moon. \n\nNow lets look at the weather with Jill Whitey, hey Jill how are you doing today?\"\n\n\"Just fine Will. The weather today is going to be mostly rainy, partly because the increase of illegal immigrants from the Mexican border have made mother nature sad and she's crying. We don't want mother nature to cry do we? Well, we don't have a choice because Gay marriage. Back to you Bill.\"\n\n\"Thank you Jill, Let's take a look at sports with Hank Whitey and his token black associate, Greg. What's up Today Hank?\"\n\n\"Not much will, sports are being played. Here's the scores.\"\n\n\"Those scores are something!\" \n\n\"You got that right Greg, back to you Will\"\n\n\"Thanks Hank, let's hope they keep up the scoring, I want a fee toaster.\nIn other news today: Did you know in some larger metropolitan areas, also known as 'Cities' they have Black Police officers? Can they enforce the law or are they just show ponies for their educated masses? Will have more on that story tonight at 9\"\n\nStatic.\n\nCatastrophic end of all life as we know it on earth.\n\nfin.", "\"Sources say that a new deal has been struck to bring millions of tons of raw resources to our country. Tonight we will discuss the impact this will have on the 2024, 2028 and 2032 presidential elections.\"\n\n\"Uh, Kathy. That's not what I-\"\n\n\"And with us tonight to help us understand the new deal, is Professor Dahmwe Gunnadi. It's great to have you here, Professor.\"\n\n\"Look, it's not a-\"\n\n\"But first, we're switching live to the steps outside congress, where Senator Franklin has just wiped his nose with a handkerchief.\"\n\n\"Thanks, Kathy. I'm here at the capitol building, where the senator who was recently embroiled in the 'Lobster-Butter' scandal in Maine has now wiped his nose during an address on the subcommittee for the restrictions of donations allowed to Super-PACs. Sources say that this action reveals his intention to 'clean up\" the corruption of overly-huge donations to the political candidates. Also, I am being paid to- Excuse me, I am being informed that he ate the nose-wiping... and his tissue... and he beats his his son with jumper cables. Back to you, Kathy.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Susan. Now: Will the next year be full of wealth and resources or does a sinister danger lurk on the horizon instead. Sources say the democratic party is attempting to seize all of these new-found resources in a top-secret 'redirect mission.'\"\n\n\"It's not top secret. I just told you about it-\"\n\n\"Thank you, Professor. The answer may surprise you! Stay tuned, we'll be back after the break.\"\n" ]	2
	[WP] What if every night you have a dream about the events that will happen the following day.	[ "The car flew through the window and out to the street below. The beautiful brunette with emerald earrings reached under the steering wheel and pulled out a grenade. She pulled the pin and handed it to me.\"Make it count, babe!\" \n\"A grenade? What the heck am I sup--\" A huge roar erupted from behind us. I poked my head out the window and saw it: A giant Russian Doll. Remembering the active explosive in my lap I threw the grenade towards the huge Matryoshka. \n\nThe doorbell went off. I woke up, grabbed my robe and made my way to the front door. I pushed through the blinds. There stood a woman... with brown hair and emerald earrings... I opened the door.", "\"No, Cookie Monster, I do not have money for this!\" I yelled at the furry blue puppet, \"Look- will you just get out of here and leave me alone?\" \n\n\"You rather have veggies?\" the Cookie Monster replied, \"Veggies good for you too.\" \n\n\"No, I don't want anything,\" I said again, \"I told you, I don't have money for this right now.\" \n\nThe Cookie Monster lunged at me before I jerked awake in my bed. I looked up and into my window to see the bright rays of light streaming through the window blinds. Today is going to be a rough day. I know it. I dreamed about it. \n\nAs a young child, I grew up watching the typical children's television programs that aired. Sesame Street being one of them. Now that I look back, the characters scare me a little. Puppet creatures going on and on about \"counting\" or \"words\" or some other obvious concept. As a young child, I also grew up with nightmares and being scared of them. Most people grow out of that, being able to tell themselves it just a dream and it can do no harm. I am not one of those people. \n\nMy parents always told me in the past dreams were just part of my imagination. To me, my imagination was just that- mine. If it's only part of my imagination, why can't I control it like I control how I think about things? Why can't I control it like I can control what I say? Dreams for me were much more than that. To everyone else, dreams were \"just a little break from reality.\" For me, they're so much more real. \n\nI remember old dreams as if they were memories of someone's real life. In one of them, I was a small insect crawling along the damp soil after the rain had cleared. The shy sun was beginning to show itself from behind the dark clouds. Another somewhat larger insect of the same kind, somehow I felt as if I trusted them, crawled beside me and started to move their wings. I felt energy channel through me. I started to notice everything about being a flighted bug- noticing my wings could be outstretched as far as the eye could see, that I could be lighter than a feather if I really tried. We flew together, and I was happy. \n\nOut of the blue, a newspaper swatted my companion away. I turned to look. Dead. My father died six hours after I woke up. \n\nNow, every time I have a dream with anything out of the ordinary, I stop to think about what my dreams mean. Cookie Monster? Why would a Cookie Monster feel the need to get violent? I decided to check the news on my phone for a quick moment. Bake Sale Today!" ]	2
Or alternatively, the person who killed your husband.	[WP] Your relationship with the person who killed your father.	[ "Would you call it a relationship? I used to think so. I often imagined if things were different. If we'd had our chance encounter in a coffee shop instead, our eyes meeting for the first time over the display cases filled with sweets, appraising each other like two predators. He's always the lion to my lioness in my fantasies. Then the inevitable magnetic attraction would follow and he'd have no choice but to talk to me. I know things could've been different, but sometimes you have to accept the way things are. \n\nSome people you're just drawn to. Such was the case when I first met him and from the moment he stepped past the threshold into our home, I knew he was trouble. His was the good kind of trouble you often found hidden behind the veneer of a pressed suit, a sharp intelligence, and a silver badge. It was the animalistic instinct concealed behind his baby brown eyes that terrified me more than the gun strapped to his hip. They took in everything at once making you feel as if your entire life was laid bare before him. \n\nHe introduced himself as Detective McKinney investigating a recent murder in the area and as he spoke, his eyes danced around the room, picking up the kinds of details I imagined only made sense to him. He was a sort of dark fiction standing there in my doorway. The kind of man you'd find gracing the cover of a detective novel, fully aware of his own mortal flaws, but dogged in his pursuit. I wished I could've helped him more. Had I any modicum of foresight, I would've made up even the smallest detail to keep him close by, but my addled tongue deceived me and he was gone once more. The only memory I had left was a business card still sharp around the edges with a phone number hand-written on the back. \n\nThree agonizing weeks later, it was my husband's turn. Detective McKinney told me over a cup of tea that I'd been saving especially for his return that they believed his disappearance was suspicious and perhaps even related to the previous murder. His eyes told me they feared the worst, but I saw painted there not the compassion I'd been half-expecting but excitement coupled with a sort of curiosity that only enamored me to him more. When he placed his hands upon mine and promised he'd do his best to find him, I dropped my cup of tea and cried out, but for his touch alone and not the reasons he presumed. \n\nI pray each night he'll never find the place where I buried my husband, that he'll continue searching unaware of my sacrifice for him. I look for that same excitement buried in his eyes each time we meet and with each press conference announcing their newest lead. I look for it each time he sits with me to share his progress, to assure me that they'll find the man who killed my husband, never aware that it was him, his look, his touch that sealed his death from the very beginning. If that's not a relationship, then what is?\n\n", "We sat at that corner table just like every year since that day. Tyler took the chair closest to the window, giving his back to the street and casting a heavy shadow over the beer stained oak. Across from him I rested my elbow on the table to prop up my head as I stared absently at the line of crystal hanging from the bar.\n\n\"Would you quit that,\" Tyler sighed, \"You know I hate watching you do it.\"\n\nMy eyes snap to him as I realized where my hand is. I had formed a habit of tracing the scar that framed eye whenever I felt tense. \"Oh, sorry,\" I say in almost a whisper. \"Well, shall I get the first round?\"\n\n\"Don't bother, the waitress will be coming soon,\" Tyler spat as he stared into my eyes. \n\nThere was something different about him today. This day always drags me into a pit but Tyler seems to go a different way, a more hostel way. But I've never seem him this ready to blow. I started to say something but was interrupted by the waitress placing our usual on the table, a large bottle of Crown whiskey and three glasses. I nod my thanks and, seeing how Tyler made no move, poured a round into each.\n\nTyler snatches a glass and hoists it up, waiting for my to do the same. The moment I do he shoots his drink back and slams down the glass before mine even makes it to my lips. \n\n\"How could you let it happen?\" he breaths as I finish my round.\n\n\"What the hell do you mean by that?\" I snap. \n\n\"You know damn well what I mean,\" The rage in Tyler's eyes threatens to burn the soul out of me. \"All those years before I realized... You could have done it. But no, you just rolled over until he took her and I finally stepped up and stopped him for good.\"\n\nI lowered my head at his words, \"Is that what you really think? That I just let it happen?\"\n\n\"That's exactly what you did,\" I saw his knuckles begin to go white as his grip on the glass but I couldn't look him in the face. \"If I hadn't come home and took care of things, that bastard would still be around. But then you'd probably like that.\"\n\nThat did it. My world went red and as it cleared I found my hand around Tyler's throat. \"Don't your dare say another word,\" I growled through gritted teeth. \"No one, not even you, wanted him gone more than me. But I had to take it or I wouldn't be the only one with scars!\"\n\n\"Then why am I the one,\" Tyler managed to grunt past my grip, the anger in his face mirroring my own, \"that finished it? Why-\"\n\n\"Because she begged me not to!\" I screamed! \n\nTyler's face shattered into confusion as I let go and slumped back into my chair. \"Wha-what do you mean?\"\n\nI reached over and took a long pull from the bottle before answering. \"She still loved him,\" I began, \"I tried once but she stopped me after I knocked him out. Even with the swollen eyes and broken arm, she pulled me off of him and begged me to stop. So I did.\" The tears dripped from my chin and my voice caught in my throat but I kept going. \"So I did what I could. I took his punishment so she didn't have to. So you didn't have to.\"\n\n\"But that night...\" Tyler interrupted.\n\n\"That night he couldn't get enough and I refused to stay down so he grabbed the knife. I was barely able to move but when he lunged mom dove between us...\" I let the words hang there as Tyler managed to take a drink. I grabbed the bottle before it hit the table and through my head back, closing my eyes as the burning liquid flowed over my tongue. When I opened my eyes again I saw similar tear lines digging groves in his face. \"If you hadn't come in then I would have stabbed him myself.\"", "You can't like everyone. Some people are simply hard to love. Even so, everyone tends to have at least one person in particular who they cannot stand. For me, this particular person is Amanda.\n\nThey called it the perfect crime. Not one shred of evidence was left on the scene. As much as the investigators tried, they couldn't find the murderer.\n\n\"I can't take this any longer,\" I thought, pulling myself away from my father's closed casket to head to the restroom.\n\nI hadn't cried at all, had I? Either way, it couldn't hurt to make sure my mascara didn't smear. I really shouldn't have worn make-up today anyways. Sure, it was my father's wake, but even make-up can't fix my disgusting face.\nLuckily for me, this small church had a one person bathroom. Locking the door behind me I stepped in front of the mirror. I placed my purse onto the rusted sink and pulled my mascara brush out. When I looked up at the mirror, however, I realized I wasn't alone.\n\n\"Amanda,\" I grimaced, looking at her through the mirror, not bothering to turn around.\n\"Hey, fat face,\" she sneered back at me. \"Shame about your dad, huh? Guess the old timer's clock finally quit ticking, huh?\"\n\n\"It still would be if you hadn't-\" I started to say, before Amanda slapped her hand over my mouth.\n\"Don't even think about finishing that sentence or that precious little mommy of yours will be next to go,\" she whispered.\n\nI closed my eyes and nodded, a single tear running down my cheek.\n\n\"No no no,\" she said, wiping the tear away. \"I don't want you to cry over your disgusting father. He hurt you, didn't he? And your mother just let it happen. Don't let her see you cry for him. The only time you're allowed to cry is when I cut you.\"\n\nI pulled myself away from Amanda, grabbed my purse, and went out the door.\n\n\"I was wondering where you went!\" my mother gasped with her arms outstretched, running to me.\n\nShe wrapped her arms around me gently, putting just enough space between us to look me in the eyes. I stared back blankly.\n\n\"It's okay to cry, you know, sweetie. Your father was very special to both of us.\" she said, with a concerned look in her eyes.\n\n\"I guess I just haven't felt the need to,\" I replied.\n\nAfter a short pause, my mom said, \"I understand. I understand completely, Amanda.\"" ]	3
	[WP] You have a gun that makes everyone's deepest, darkest fears real. You walk into a mental institution.	[ "You still remember, don't you, when they put me in your head? Panting, sweating, clammy hands. And the screaming.\n\nGod, the screaming was the worst. Not your screaming, no. When they were in the room with you, you knew what was happening and you could deal with it, but not knowing... not knowing what was next was the worst. When they were there in front of you, you could shout and hate and curse them all but when they were in the room down the hall, the room beside, the room right across, slowly creeping in...\n\nBut you're going to get them back, aren't you? You're going to just walk back in, and I told you how to do it and you'll do it. And you'll get them all, I know you will. You'll fix everything and everything's going to be alright. You'll just walk right in with another little lie and a whole lot of hate.\n\nHate and hate and falseness and smiles and comforting little lies and so much hate until you'll finally wake up gasping in cold sweat again, accomplishing nothing, changing nothing. You'll look around and find that you're still in that quiet little room where nothing happens and you feel like nothing... and it's all just another lie, that everything's alright now, isn't it? Maybe you'll look down to find that familiar gun lying beside you, that little gun that I know everyone wants and you know it'll make their worst nightmares come alive, but they can't have it because it's yours. And you'll pinch yourself or you'll bite your tongue until you taste blood and I know you'll still feel... nothing. It feels like nothing, everything feels like nothing. Wouldn't you rather remember then be nothing? So instead, you'll struggle and think and argue and always you'll raise that peculiar little gun to your veins and pull the trigger again.\n\nAnd maybe this time, you'll really go back instead of just pretending.", "You've got to maintain trigger discipline. The Dread Cannon isn't quite alive, but it's got enough influence on most wielders that you might find yourself \"accidentally\" squeezing the trigger. By all rights, you shouldn't even have that damned thing in a place like this. It's too dangerous. I don't known what they were thinking sending it with someone like you.\n\nYou are not to aim The Dread Cannon at an inmate. I don't care how good your reason is, aiming that thing in here is a bad idea. Don't even think about it.\n\nIf you feel the need to aim or place your finger near the trigger guard, let myself or one of the other guards know. Failure to notify an officer of your intent will result in your immediate termination, by which I do not mean you will be fired.\n\nDo not touch the trigger. Do not aim the cannon. Tell a guard if you're considering either action. Understood? Excellent.\n\nThe elevator ride shouldn't take long. It's not fast, but it's not far either. He's only three floors underground. Don't believe anything he tells you. Not even the true things.\n\nWe've arrived at subfloor three. This is as far as I go. He's in the room at the end of the hallway. Swipe your card and speak your name before entering your password. Do it in the wrong order or type the password wrong, the whole floor gets flooded with knockout gas. Pain to clean up.\n\nOh, and welcome to Arkham. Tell the Joker I said hello. Try not to get us all killed.", "I stood firmly in the waiting room with my gun tucked behind me, listening to the click-clack of the receptionist's keyboard. Mindless, incessant typing. She hadn't even raised her eyes to see mine when I walked in. She'd dropped a clip board on the counter, \"sign-in please and fill in who you're visiting, someone will be there shortly to escort you inside.\" I didn't think it would be this easy. No metal detectors, no security guards, at least none that I noticed. Some of the orderlies were large men and women. I guess that's all the security they needed.\n\nI kept quiet, waiting patiently. I didn't want to alert anyone, but I hadn't realized what I thought was normal may seem suspicious. I saw the Doctor come in and whisper something to one of the orderlies. He looked right at me. He must have recognized my name. I never though to use a fake one. I couldn't hear what he said, but I could read his lips. They mouthed, dangerous put them on standby. Or something like that. \n\nSoon after a large white man who could have easily crushed my feeble arms came in. \"Follow me, sir.\" I obliged. They took me to his room. He was alone, sitting at a desk facing the window. When the orderly left he closed the door behind him, that's when I pulled out the gun. \n\n\"Mr. Thompson? Is that you Mr. Thompson? Stephen Thompson?\" I raised the gun, pointing at the back of his head and he slowly turned around. He didn't say a word. He didn't even flinch. His eyes narrowed a bit, staring at my gun rather than me. I know what it was doing, so I relished in what was to come. I'd flatline him soon enough. \n\n\"Well Mr. Thompson. You probably don't remember me. My name's Allen. Allen Moche.\" His mouth began to hang open. The look in his eyes, I'll never forget it. Complete and utter despair. As if he was staring into infinity with no way out. \n\n\"Mr. Thompson, 20 years ago you murdered my mother and sister. Soon after you ended up here. They said you were incompetent. That you lacked capacity. You didn't understand what you did was wrong. That you couldn't understand.\" He finally said something.\n\n\"They're coming. They'll be here any minute. Drugs, drugs, and more drugs. I told them I didn't need it! I told them I was fine! No one believes me! Why doesn't anyone believe me!? I know what to do. I'll just put them to sleep. One by one. Oh and I'll hide them. Hide them all. Under the floor. Yes, under.\" He dropped to his knees and started feeling the tiles, like he was looking for a door. \n\n\"Huh... I guess I was right. You're a fucking lunatic. Or.. you are now.\" I walked over towards him, slamming my foot into his shoulder. He just stared at the floor, digging his nails into the crevices between the tiles. \"I knew it was bullshit. I knew you couldn't have been crazy. I saw you that night. I saw the look in your eyes. You knew exactly what you were doing.\"\n\nI kneeled down in front of him, placing the gun right up against his head. He just kept clawing at the floor. \"Gotta find room. Room for all them. Underneath. Somewhere underneath.\"\n\n\"You've got no fucking clue what you're doing. You've actually gone insane. I figured you might be a little messed up, didn't think you'd be sane enough to end up reacting like this.\"\n\nI moved the gun to his mouth and forced him to look at me. Those desperate eyes, terrified and alone. \"Well. Now I feel kind of bad doing this. Now you're actually entitled to some mercy.\"\n\n\"Fuck mercy.\" ", "First timer here, critiques welcome! This prompt was very intriguing so I tried to write something interesting.\n\nThe asylum room door creaked as it closed behind me. I sat staring at her thin, shaking figure as she hugged her knees, staring at a spot in front of her. Her skin was as white as her gown and mattress. Her hair was thin and silver. How long has it been since I’d last seen her? A year? Two? The drinking and countless contracts made me lose track of time. My anger burned hot when I saw her, but an uncomfortable pain pulled at my heart when I saw her face, as if I still loved her. No! This was the woman who made me lose everything. I did all I could for her and now look at us. Married only on paper, I loved this woman no more. I walked closer to her, as I was trained to on assignments, not making a sound. She started to shake more. She had to know why I was here, that I was to make her suffer. Tears started streaming down her wrinkled face, her eyes widening as I drew ever closer. I slowly drew the device from under my cloak: the one I told her of so many times in the past. She knew its purpose; she knew the horrors it could bring. She knew of it’s almost supernatural ability to bring ultimate fear into someone’s mind. She finally started to whimper, her mouth cruelly curled into a frown as she silently cried. My helpless wife was now another helpless victim. I gently placed the end of the gun into the back of her frail head. Her mouth opened and she almost screamed. I gritted my teeth and pulled the trigger, waiting for what felt like an eternity for her to start screaming and thrashing about. I waited for her to go insane, and the guards to come in and not question it, and for her to suffer the rest of her miserable existence. But nothing happened. She was absolutely still, her mouth agape as she sat unblinking, staring at me.\n\n“Goddamn it! Why didn’t it work? After all of the things you put me through, after I lost trying to help you, why the hell aren’t you freaking out? I’ve seen the scariest men in my life fall to their knees in anguish and you’re just sitting here with that stupid look in your eyes, making me a complete and utter fool once again! Why the hell aren’t you freaking the fuck out?!”\n\nShe slowly closed her mouth. I was fuming, almost hyperventilating, staring at her with a horrifying scowl. I waited for a response. I waited for something to happen to this wench. Finally she parted her cracked lips, very slowly. It felt like an eternity waiting for the words to come out. She whispered ever so carefully, still staring into me out of the corner of her glistening eyes:\n\n“Don’t you understand yet? You are my biggest fear.”\n\nA surreal gravity hit me in a way I couldn’t understand, a sudden realization of everything I’ve ever done becoming an unforgivable regret. I fell to my knees. I placed my head on the cold linoleum and wept, ever so softly, at what I’ve become.\n", "The child screams as his fear materializes. A humanoid figure encroached in shadow moves what appears to be an arm, its body trembling. Its limbs are rapidly used to pull its way out of the shadow and clench the child's throat. The child gasps for air and manages to whisper words in amongst strained breathing.\n\n\"Please Dad, stop.\" The child cries, his voice muffled from the large hairy hand closing around his airway; tears now streaming from both cheeks.\n\nThe woman holding the gun scoffs, \"Maybe I shouldn't have started in the domestic violence ward.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "Hi guys, very new to WP. I enjoy writing and have a bit of insomnia. Writing this at 4:30am so bear with me.\n\nTrembling, palms slick and cold, I walk towards the dim, reddish orange haze at the end of the hall, the light slowly meandering from off to on and back off again in drowsy clockwork. The muscles in my fingers feel strained, like I have been religiously doing twelve-rep sets of forearm and hand-strengthening calisthenics, the torturous weight of the gun in my hand becoming all too known now.\n\nIt feels powerful. The cobalt-onyx finish blinks like a flirtatious waitress, asking to be caressed. The weight greatens, gravity taking hold and pulling down harder than my wrists can bear. She plays hard-to-get. Switching hands, switching grips, the weapon slides from fingertip to fingertip seamlessly like a mercurial statue, waxing and waning in the pale, respectful but commanding respect. \n\nSix or seven minutes must have passed since I began my trek down this hall. Glancing over shoulder, I could not have gone more than 30 feet. The tired bleating of the red light continues, flashing like a sentient alarm, going for centuries, sleepy and weary from its vigilance. \n\nA stark clicking pulls me from my sojourn in the hallway. It hails from beyond the door beneath the light. The sound of metal on stone, a clack and a chonk, followed by the sound of hard plastic against wood. It is muffled, and in rhythm; every so often the rhythm is broken and the pace rests and resets. The door in front of me lies sternly shut, no air underneath, above, or between the old iron jambs on each side. The splintered layers betraying years of painting and repainting the same iron door with the same sterile, limestone-colored lacquer has thickened and insulated the causeway at least half an inch. My hand against the wrought latch, I tighten my grasp on the gun and remember my task. Forsten State was home to more than one psychological pariah, I mustn’t forget that. \n\nPutting myself into the latch, I slide it away from its mechanism, the grinding metal on metal bellowing behind me in a huge wake of ear-shattering sound. Despite the effort the lock takes to coerce, and the sonic explosion that resulted, the door swings open with little more work than the screen door on an old bungalow. Filling the hall with tall lines of peckish white moonlight, punctuated by the lengths of bar stretching across the windows, I step into the room and wonder immediately if I have made a mistake. \n\nLying in front of me, twisted, bent, broken, scarred, burned, was the shapeless amalgamation of what was, probably recently, a middle-aged man. Long gray hair peppered with streaks of dark mahogany, deep, carved wrinkles only brought on by great stress and trial, high cheekbones beguiling a long-lost grin-- the man before me had been through much, had seen too far, had experienced too full the ebbs and flows of life. Looking at me, or more through me, with only the whites of his eyes and the yellowed fragments of teeth showing, I could not help but wonder again, if I have made a mistake.\n\nMy hand tightens again around the weapon in my hand. Dr. Stuckliss gave me specific instructions. Say nothing, just fire. The slick trail of sweat on the grip of the gun becomes freezing rime as I raise the barrel to execute the man shaking before me. I close my eyes, and can only pull.\n\nAs the tendons in my finger shrink to produce a shot, the click and familiar bang of a gun being fired at a hopeless patient never come-- I am sure I pulled. Perhaps I am blocking the event out of my mind. Opening my eyes, a brutally intense white light pours from the weapon, beaming into the flesh of the man in front of me. Suddenly he stands, devoid of the lethargy I just saw him with. Beyond the great white light all I can make out is his face, rolling water from his eyes, the tears directed by the crags on his cheeks and chin, his stare blank but somehow terrified.\n\nThe light fades, and the gun emits a high-pitched series of beeps, like that on a microwave. The gun vibrates, or moreso shivers. Looking down, I cannot help but think the gun hungers-- it seems alive, unsated, wanting for more. The poor man slumps to the floor in a lifeless pile of flesh stretched over scaffolding. \n\nMy solemnest thoughts, the wellsprings of my pride and my sadness, my turbulent reflections baking in the pressurized pot of my own mind. The icy, sticky metal clings to the meat of my hand like a piece of fresh caramel on leather, ingraining its atoms to mine-- even if I wanted to drop it, the weapon would not leave my hand, for want of a host, for want of control and to be held. \n", "I don't even know why I brought the gun with me. Fear I suppose, perhaps it had become a part of my confidence, sort of like a suit or a pair of shined shoes. It's utterly harmless really, just a carved and lacquered handle with a brass tube extending outwards in the fashion of an old flintlock, minus the moving parts. But here I was, terrified that it had been snatched from me and held in the hands of this lunatic.\n\nI hadn't the heart to really use it, perhaps on a few street hoods who got too close or on roaming dogs barking at me, but never like this. Never to kill. But that was the situation I found myself in, a mad man in possession of all our fears and the means to spread his madness at whim. \n\nHe claimed he would shoot us if we got closer, not that it fired bullets but instead the wielders intent. If he wanted us to die then our horrors would be so absolute we would be killed by them and that is what stopped us all. He was beyond consolation, beyond hope. He looked across at everyone in the room with teary eyes and placed the gun in his mouth and pulled where the trigger was supposed to be. \n\nAnd nothing, the gun did exactly as it meaned to. ", "My head was pounding, my body ached and I was a laying on a rough, warm surface. I woke up outside a mental institude with a my gun in my hand. It's time to go to work, and earn my retribution. I don't know what the good doc's deepest fear is but I really hope it's death. I walk up to the doors and into the hospital.\n\n\nThe pristine white walls of the asylum seemed to glow under the fluorescent hallway lighting. The lime green floors appeared to be brand new, unsullied by the 40+ years patients and mental health staff roamed these godless halls. This building seemed to exist in an antithetical state to the minds of it's denizens. This building, unspoiled from years of wear, seemed to attached residents were fractured shells of their selves. It's as if there is an unseen guard that confiscates your humanity at the door. \n\n\nAs I entered south side of the recreational area, the humming of the old air conditioning unit was the only audible sound beside the occasional click from a connect four pieces falling in to place. The rec room was 40' by 40' room with a set of double door on the north and south sidea. On the east side was a counter where the residents could check out games. Attending that counter was a young woman with a very unsettling 1000 yards stare. She was gazing out the west window, out into the garden. There were 9 pairs of patients sitting throughout room, each alternating at playing some ridiculous children's games and eating vegetables. Not really eating, the bowls of vegetables were just placed near them. The aids were all shuffling around the room, fixated on the floor like it was airing a Game of Thrones marathon. The sign for 'offices' pointed towards the north exit. As I made my way across the room, I told one of the staffs I.D. Cards off is neck. He didn't put up any semplence of a struggle. He his kept walking around fixated on the immaculate green floor. I also pocketed a carrot from of the baskets for the fruits. \n\n\nAs I continued my stroll through the winding halls of the hospital, looking for the attending doctor, I found it odd that no one diviated from their routine intercept me. Guess a man making rounds with a rifle is just your average Thursday here. I was under the impression that mental patients mutter to themselves, or scream until they lose their voices but I guess those are just extreme cases. So like 6 standard deviations from the norm? I don't know, how do we define 'average' insanity here? Do they have janitors here, cause I have seen on yet? If not how do they keep this floor so damn clean. All great questions to ask the good docter when I find him. Making a left I walking into what look like a examination 'ward'. If you want to call it that. It was eight rooms on either side of the hallway. Each of them came equiped with an exam table, a roll of tissue paper and a scale. There was a door at the other end of this hallway was marked 'docter.' Bingo.\n\n\nI produce the staff/servitor's I.D. and swipe it through the security scanner. A small green light bursts to life from the security scanner. The light was accompanied by a destinctive unlatching sound. I ready my rifle and burst through the door between me and retribution. On the other side of the door was a cluttered desk an office chair and small frail older gentlemen. Dr. Herz. says the name plate on the desk. The older white gentlemen with balding white hair, large ears, and livers spots sat staring out the window in his office. The the smoky tendrils from his pipe slowly faded into the air above him. \n\n\n\"Shit, I had something for this.\" I mutter as I rifle through my pockets with my free hand. My muttering startled the waste of space behind the desk. With a fright he turns around and didn't seem recognizes me. \n\n\n\"How did you get in here?\" He screamed while struggling to stand at his desk.\n\n\nI dismiss his bewilderment, \"that's not important doc.\" My hand finds the carrot in my pocket and lifts it up to my mouth. \"Whats up doc.\" I ask with a smile. \n\n\n\"You can't be in here.\" Screams the older gentleman angrily. No respect for the classics, can you believe this guy. \n\n\n\"Do you have janitors on staff?\" I ask. My question seemed to confuse him. \n\n\n\"What?\" \n\n\"This place is so clean, but I didn't see any janitors. I thought this place would be a grimy nest of putrid filth but you suprised my here. I mean color me impressed.\"\n\n\n\"You're insane\" \n\n\n\"I actually ment to ask you about that. Samual, how do you define average isanity?\" The mention of his true name seemed to set of an alarm within his head. \" I heard it was doing the same task over and over against hoping for a different result, but is that really average insanity? I mean, what task is a schizophrenic doing over and over again? Also where does standard deviation come in?\"\n\nAn arcane blue aura, eminating from his pipe, bathed the room in a soft blue light. Tendrils of smoke began to solidify into writhing masses of slimy skin. Pressure began to build a a small part of an otherworldly consciousness slowly leaked into our reality. \n\n\nBang\n\nMy rifle went off and and the whole room when black. \n\n\nMy head was pounding, my body ached and I was a laying on a rough, warm surface. I woke up outside a mental institude with a my gun in my hand. It's time to go to work, and earn my retribution. I don't know what the good doc's deepest fear is but I really hope it's death. I walk up to the doors and into the hospital.\n", "The woman in room 401E's screams are vaguely heard over the sound of monotonous and overplayed jazz music. She fears snakes. They can't see them, only she can. They tell her she is delusional. And I don't know if she believes them. But her fear is real. I would know, I put them there. Its the size of a laser pointer, so the guards don't realize I have anything at all. I've been very careful not to let them see it. \n\nI almost feel pity for her when she leaves. She's still raving about the snakes, their oily skin and massive fangs. \n\nI find a new target about a day later. He's a man in his late 20s. \n\nHis hair is black and greasy and he usually stands hunched over. He inhabits room 344B. Hopefully, they won't notice the pattern between my victims. Patients on different floors aren't allowed to intermingle; it's very carefully watched. His name is Fred and I'm about to make sure he meets his biggest fear. \n\nHe is in his floor's sickeningly sterile, white cafeteria. The staff seem to think that having an absence of color will make insane people sane. It kind of bothers me. He spoons a small amount of lukewarm soup into his mouth, swallowing slowly. I'm sitting nervously a few tables away. I look around for eyes. Nobody's looking, so I point my gun towards him. \n\nWish you the best, Fred. \n\nI shoot. It fires. No bullets come out, but a thin stream of what appears to be black light shoots out and hits him dead-center in the forehead. He drops his spoon, disoriented. I, as the shooter, can see his one true fear. A blurry human-like figure fuzzes into reality in front of him. It appears to be a regular human woman. She's maybe around twenty-five or twenty-six years old. Not a very scary figure, really. In fact, she's rather attractive. I look at Fred. He stares at her in what appears to be disbelief, not fear. He pushes his food and table aside, runs to her, and embraces her.\n\nAll too suddenly, her arm topples off. His mouth is gaping and his eyes are wide in disbelief. She starts to laugh as her arm's blood pools underneath her. Next her leg crumbles. Then her head topples to the floor with a loud THUMP. Still, she laughs at him. He's screaming now. The sound is what I would compare to a dying cat; shrill and spine-crawling. The laughter finally stops when her head splits open and her brain slides to the once sparkling floor. It's not really there, of course. Though his vomit is.\n\nThe guards come to Fred's arrest. He's using his fingernails to claw at his own face, which is, of course, a breach of policy for a patient. He doesn't know the guards can't see it, and he's too upset to explain it. As they drag him away, parts of her ever- collapsing body follow him to what will soon be a concrete solitary cell, no longer his room. I note that it smells like rotten flesh and continue my disgusting and bland meal.\n\nI learned through gossip yesterday later that Fred managed to use his clothes and a few spare items to kill himself. Lucky bastard. I wish I could kill myself; I've been in solitary confinement for two years now, my hand's been itching for at least one, and I still can't free myself from these goddamn cuffs.", "It hadn't always been a gun. When I was seven, it appeared as a small rock. No matter where I threw it, it always appeared back in my hand. I could wish it away, but when I was truly angry... it was there. \n\nAs I grew, it took on a thousand fanciful shapes. Once it was a tiger, hurling itself down the hill at Molly Wright. She had slipped on her sled, swearing she saw the Drei Augen Mädchen. She had gashes down her back, where her jacket rode up and a tree clutched at her. \n\nOnce, when my father was drinking, and his hands became fists, the rock became a small cat and circled his legs like a lover. He had claimed his father was in the room, skin clinging to white bone, as if he were melting. \n\nBut as time went on, I was able to focus. One hard jab into the skull with a glowing knife. Then finally, after one too many bad action movies, it had settled into a gun. One that felt weightless in my hands. \n\nI learned that I was never hungry, that I never aged. I started to see visions of places I should be, and my feet would walk me there. My stone had become a weapon, had evolved. Was different. \n\nTonight I would gather enough energy to live in the human world for years. I never aged. I had other strange gifts, but they were not as important as the gun and the energy. Fear. There was profit in fear. There was gold in the cold dead minds of the insane. \n\nHere I would grow a garden of thorns and ravish them like a lover.", "The gun holds onto my right hand while my left hand opens the door. \n\nThe stench of lysol and urine bring a temporary awareness to the situation. I realize I'm about to walk into the building that stole years of sleep from me. I'm holding a gun and I have no idea why. \n\nEvery fiber of my being is pulling me away from the building as I watch my hand open the door and my legs walk in. I've lost control. \n\nMy trigger finger moves parallel with the barrel. I know from its stiffness that the gun has been in my hand for a long time. I'd say a few hours at least but it's only a guess. I don't remember how I got here, but I know it's not by choice. I would never come back here by choice.\n\nThe last thing she ever said to me was in that room without windows. \n\n\"We can make this our new home. A boy should be with his mother\"\n\nI regret saying what I did, but I was only nine years old at the time and that place scared me more than a mother could love. I didn't know the weight words could have on the mentally ill. I was too young to be held responsible, but not too young to carry blame.\n\nI don't know how she got her hands on a gun while being locked in a mental hospital, but she did. They had the room clean the very next day.\n\nNow twenty years later, I couldn't fear a worse possible ending to life than in this exact building, in this exact room, in the exact same way. I would never do that to myself though.\n\nThe last thought I had before watching in fear as I stepped into that room was about the gun.\n\nWhere had I gotten it from again?", "Fear, an unpleasant emotion caused by the threat of danger, pain, or harm. That’s what the dictionary says. Fear can be caused by something as small as a spider, or as large as someone chasing you with a dangerous object. Shia LaBeouf can cause fear. Children have a fear of the dark. So many people process fear differently.\n\nI cock the gun, shoving it into the holster under my jacket. I climb out of my car and head towards what looks to be a derelict building, but I know it isn’t.\n\nThe interesting thing about fear though is the side effects, or rather effects directly caused by that mental stimulation. Adrenaline spikes, sweat levels increase as heartbeat does, synapses and neurons fire like never before. They’re all beautiful things to behold. Human fear is beautiful.\n\nThey’ve left the door unlocked, not that there is any reason for them not to. I ease the door open and walk to the reception. Ellen is there, she’s got a sweet face and personality, always smiling. “Hello, I’m here to see Mr. Rogers, as usual.”\n\nShe smiles, writing my name down on the guest list. “Hello John, nice to see you.” She holds the list out for me to sign next to the name, biting her lip. After a few moments silence as I’m moving to leave she calls out, “John, your father. He had an episode earlier.” She sighs before looking directly at me, “just be careful around him.”\n\nI nod, I know what she means. I know exactly. My father has fear,specifically caused by paranoid schizophrenia. He can spends hours curled up in a corner, screaming and screaming. No one else knows, no one understands. I’ll make them know fear. \n\nI walk down the corridors, up the stairs until I find my father's room. He’s sitting in his usual space, a rocking chair in the middle of the room, facing a wall, staring at the blank space.\n\n“Hello, dad,” I say, entering the room with a light tap on the door to make my presence known. He didn’t reply, said nothing and continued staring at the wall. I took a seat on his bed, it was as uncomfortable as ever, reminding me why dad refused to sit on it. I sit there, for hours, in silence. No words said, and I pull the gun out and study it. \n\nMy biggest fear was to follow in my dad’s footsteps, to become as low as him, lose my independence, and lose my mental stability. At only twenty schizophrenia was still a risk, and that terrified me. It was almost as terrifying as the thought that someone was watching me, looking over my shoulder at my every movement. My hand drifted to hover over the gun, fingers twitching. No, I was safe. \n\n“So, I visited mum’s grave today.” I mutter, “not that she’d care.” I clear my throat with a cough and say louder, “I left some flowers and the letter you wrote, she’ll probably like it.” If she doesn’t, the cemetery gardener probably will. All the incoherent scribbles of ‘they’re watching me’ and ‘one day they’ll find me’, he’ll conclude that whoever wrote it was a nutjob, and he’d be right.\n\nDad lets out a small grunt, acknowledging that he’s heard my words without having to commit to a conversation. He’s always too scared to speak, too lost to try. Deciding I’d wasted enough of my day in this institution than was necessary as a son I stood to leave. I quietly say a goodbye, leaving the room. \n\nAs I leave, I come face to face with an attendant who gives me a beaming smile. He’s happy, too happy. Does he not know where he is? This is a place of fear, people with mental anguish. How dare he smile. With a small sigh, I decided enough was enough. I pull out the gun, and point it at the orderly. They would know fear now. \n\nI pull the trigger as his eyes widen, yes, this was it. Fear. His pupils dilate as the shock wave hits him. My gun isn’t normal, it doesn’t hold bullets, not really. It holds fear. Or, at least that’s what I choose to believe. One hit from this gun and your darkest fears come to life. \n\nAs it hits him, he drops to the floor. “Someone? Anyone? Who turned out the lights?” He starts wailing, screaming, crawling on the floor. I smirk, know fear.\n\nFeet patter down the corridor and I turn to see a group of nurses and orderlies running round the corner. They see me, the gun, and the boy on the ground crying. Backing up, one gets round the corner as I shoot, I’ll catch them later.\n\nOne bullet hits them all, each affected differently, the fears are not the same. A female doctor starts attacking a smaller nurse, screaming demon at them. Another is crying, claiming to be dead. A male nurse just backs against the wall, not saying anything, but looking down.\n\nEach starts sweating, screaming, running. Fear is beautiful, and now, these people know fear. Satisfied, I leave them in the corridor, leaving the one escapee too. My job was done. Done for now. I smile, leaving the building, passing Ellen.\n\n“Hope to see you soon, John,” she says with a withdrawn smile, obviously oblivious to the noise upstairs. I nod my agreement, putting the gun away. \n\nFear, an uncomfortable emotion, most definitely. Fear is very real though, everyone should know fear.\n\n--\n\nKinda lost track of this one xD\n", "I passed along silently through the maze-like complex that was the Bjron-Eflrid Asylum.\n\nThrough the high slits in the walls, freezing gales passed through, I always hated the weather here in Iceland.\n\nThe obtaining of a recent intern, Ulfric Styrn, who had been involved in an unfortunate \"encounter\" with a Class 7 entity, was the mission objective. \n\nThe Essen, a fishing trawler which he had served as a midshipman on had disappeared for out in the Northernmost part of the Bering Sea. \n\nIt was found 1 month later, intact, but with most of the remains of the crew missing, albeit a few pieces of hair, blood, and bone here and there.\n\nIn the ensuring search, Ulfric was found down below in the Essen's cargo bay, where he had taken refuge in a small hole that lay between the hull of the Essen.\n\nHe was found naked, heavily dehydrated and malnourished to an extreme degree, as well as featuring signs of having experienced large amounts of mental trauma and distress. \n\nHis lack of response was troubling to the medical personal who treated him on his arrival back to Iceland, and he was soon transferred here, to the Bjorn-Elfrid asylum for \"advanced help\". \n\n\nHis encounter with this entity is very vital for the agenda of my associates and I, and thankfully, I have the night in this asylum all to myself thanks to the guards all being paid off. \n\n\n\"Room 354, 355, Aha, 356...\"\n\nThe metal door which lay to Ulfric's cell was shut naturally, and with a little applied force, I coerced it open.\n\nUlfric was a tragic sight to see, his empty and shriveled eyes barely had the strength to turn and face me. \n\nI flicked the lights on immediately, and began to set myself to work. \ntoggling the guns settings to \"low\", I aimed the sights down at little old Ulfric and pulled the trigger.\n\n\nThe room was steady and quiet at first, but then I began to hear whispers in my head, which were soon coupled with ringing and finally, tortured screams and twisted cries. \n\nDarkness enveloped the room, and shadows began to expand, and take form. \n\n\n\nUlfric and I were no longer in the room, but in a plane of vast shadows.\n\nHorrible figures who twisted and turned and crawled at great speeds along the chaotic walls and surfaces howled and screeched incessantly. \n\nGreat pillars of twisted and badly disfigured bodies who were disgustingly fused together came into view, some rotting to the point of extreme decay but still reaching out in great pain and desperation. \n\nThere were walls and tendrils of flesh and god knows what that choked the air in rotting miasma and dripped black blood. \n\nUlfric squirmed in his bed violently, as he set his sights on what was once his fellow crew members, now deformed beyond recognition and \"re-cast\" into something far more evil. \n\nWhat came next chilled me to the bone, as an enormous and writhing shadow which imposed itself above everything took form, it lout out a deafening roar before the effects of the gun began to wear off, and Ulfric and I slipped back into the cold and desolate asylum. \n\n\"Very nice\" I remarked in crude Icelandic, as I summoned two other associates of mine to drag Ulfric out of the bed, I began to grimace at the thought of weaponizing the memories of a Class 7 encounter.\n\nThen I took a swig from my hip flask, and led the rest of our group down the hall for extraction. \n \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	13
[Pic from /r/funny front page](http://i.imgur.com/ljVB5L5.jpg)	[WP] The year is 2242 all computer systems have been corrupted by an alien introduced virus. Man kind's last hope is a floppy disk with windows 3.1 on it.	[ "I carefully remove the disk from the holder then ponder...what exactly is a floppy drive? \n\nEight hours later, the replicator completes the new 360K drive and I try to insert the floppy into the slot. This is a much smaller floppy. Eight hours later, the replicator completes the new 720K drive and I insert the floppy into the slot. Apparently this is a 1.44 MB floppy. Eight hours later, the replicator completes the new 1.44 MB drive and I insert the floppy into the slot. The disk whirls then the screen says \"Hit Enter to continue or Esc to cancel.\" What is an Enter?\n\nEight hours later, the replicator completes the new keyboard and I hit Enter. The screen says \"Hit Enter to continue or Esc to cancel.\" and I hit Enter. The disk whirls in the sleeve then the screen says \"Hit Enter to continue or Esc to cancel.\" and I hit Enter. The disk whirls in the sleeve then the screen says \"Hit Enter to continue or Esc to cancel.\" and I hit Enter. The disk whirls in the sleeve then the screen says \"Hit Enter to continue or Esc to cancel.\" and I hit Esc. Humanity weeps...", "I put the floppy disk into the drive, holding my breath in anticipation. There's a whir as the drive starts up. Then...\n\nClick. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click.\n\nI fall to my knees, defeated.\n\n\"I knew this would happen,\" I mutter to myself. \"Floppies always [crash](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Click_of_death) when you need them most.\"" ]	2
	[WP] Karma is real, but reversed; when you do good, bad things happen to you and vice versa.	[ "I watched her struggle across the road. I was frozen. I could so easily help, but was it worth it? I winced as I considered the possibilities. \n\nShe tripped.\n\nA threshold was overcome, a barrier breached. It was too much to keep me back any longer. I rushed forward, offering a hand.\n\n\"Please let me help you up.\"\n\nShe looked at me, bewildered. \"No one has ever said that before.\"\n\nShe lifted a hand. It shook and rattled until I clamped it in mine. I hardly needed to exert myself to bring her to her feet. We walked together across the street. She offered no thanks, and I don't blame her.\n\nAll afternoon I kept on high alert. Where would it come, and in what form? You couldn't simply help people without paying the price. I moved carefully around each corner, and I kept my eyes busy looking for trouble\n\nI left the office and prepared for the run home. Karma farmers filled the streets, and there was no one willing to keep them from maiming, beating, killing. I climbed into truck. The iron plates were thick enough to keep me from being the easiest target. \n\nI flew from the garage at full throttle, tearing down the parkway. A constant music of gun shots and explosions fueled me on. And then, a discomforting silence.\n\nMy engine had stopped. \n\nI had helped that old woman, and now I was screwed. Nothing left to do but get in as many hits as I could, and maybe the benefits would come fast enough to keep me alive.\n\nKarma's a bitch", "People used to have the notion that the more good they did, the more good things would happen to them, and the better the world would be. It made sense logically, but the reality that we eventually discovered is that the world can't be a better place, or even a worse place. It's entirely neutral, so when you do something good, you get hit with a left hook to compensate for the resulting imbalance. \n\nThe foot slammed into my side, I groaned in pain, but I was tied down and couldn't move to shield myself .\n\n\"You know I don't take pleasure in this\" the man said unhappily. He kicked again.\n\n\"I just... I need that job. It's for my kids, so I can get them Christmas presents. I tried to do good, I really did, but everything kept going so badly- I need that job!\" He punctuated each sentence with a successively harder kick, the last one of which broke my rib. I let out a muffled yell, but I was gagged. \n\n\"How much do I need to do?\" The man asked the supervisor.\n\nThe supervisor checked his clipboard and looked back up.\n\n\"According to our estimates, you should be good, I'll bring you out front so you can pay\"\n\nThe two left me in my cell as I lay there in pain. After everyone had realized the power that reverse karma gave, they made a decision. The bad things had to happen to SOMEONE. For the good of society they said, for the good if the nation. But they weren't the ones it happened to. They held a lottery, and I got one of the winning tickets. I was just hoping one of them would end it for me. Hoping." ]	2
It can be anger, happiness, sorrow, etc. Something meaningful.	[WP] Write something that will make me feel an emotion.	[ "Hey OP. I think I may have come off a bit rude before. I just wanted to let you know that, whatever I may have said about the prompt, I think it is actually profoundly interesting. It asks us to make you feel \"an emotion\". An emotion.\n\nYou've asked us to distill a story to a pure center. A singular emotion. That's actually both challenging and difficult. What's the apotheosis of love in fiction? Or fear? Hatred? \n\nAnd by asking us to write it for you specifically, you've enhanced the challenge a great deal. This is a rhetorical difficult task. How do we inspire this emotion within you?\n\nCan you tell me something about yourself, xx2f? I want to know. I need to know. What do you find meaningful? How can we write to your tastes? Who are you? What are your hopes and dreams? How do you see the world? How are you unique and special? I know you are.\n\nThis reminds me of Ready Player One where James Halliday creates a hugely elaborate game in order to force people to delve deeply into his passions and psyche. At its heart, the message of that story is that people's inner lives are varied and expansive and, if we take the time to truly understand another person, we come to love them in the way they love themselves.\n\nI want to understand you, xx2f. I want to write for you. ", "The basic sensation I take from your prompt is apathy. Is that accurate? Are you disconnected from the world?\n\nI don't mean to pry, but you posted this around 12:30. It's the middle of the day. It's just after noon and you're already looking for something. Anything. Anger, happiness, sorrow.. it doesn't even matter for you.\n\nThis isn't a failing! In fact, I don't think it's your fault at all. It's just the times we live in. You're young. You're looking at a big world ahead of you and you're scared. You're treading water in an ocean and you can't see land. Why bother swimming?\n\nI want to tell you that it'll pass. I'm not saying that you're going to feel better, not exactly. I mean, the economy is terrible for a person like you. No offense but if you haven't found your way in life yet, you're probably not going to. \n\nBut that's okay! It happens to us all. You get a bit older and you realize that those dreams you had as a young man were comforting fantasies. It got you through those difficult times. \"I may not be a 'popular' kid at school but someday they'll respect me. I have greatness in me. They'll see it.\" It lets you escape into your head for a moment. A salve applied to the pain of living.\n\nSoon you won't need that. You're just going through a transition now. Things look bleak. You don't feel like you're moving forward. But you are! The clock keeps ticking. Very soon you'll be old enough to give up. Once you let go of your dreams and ambitions, you'll realize that apathy is just what adults feel all the time. \n\nJust accept that, xx2f. It won't make you less apathetic but at least you'll stop caring about not feeling anything. " ]	2
	[WP] Two men are pointing their guns at you, while a third man is pointing his gun at a hostage. You only have two bullets left.	[ "\"It wasn't supposed to end like this!\"\n\nI stare at Desi's pleading amber eyes, brimming with tears of fright. She is too smart to think that I will scheme our way out of this one, but no one is beyond hope. For a second, her gaze brings me back to a more pleasant time, when we shared the glow of the dawn. Her family would always prepare special dishes when I would overnight in the valley. Their ranch was a hive of life, aunts and uncles bustling with chores, her grandma in her special chair by the door. Small children would dart under our feet as we strode through the fields. \"How long will you stay this time?\", she would ask, looking at me with big eyes and long lashes. Everything was golden. John re-ups his clench on her wavy locks, tearing away her gaze and my memories. She yells out in pain, tears beyond the brimming stage.\n\n\"It wasn't supposed to end like this!\"\n\nJohn is a very fidgety man, which has always bothered me. I know that soon he will shoot her, regardless of whether I tell him where his exit lies, and regardless of whether I hand him the key. He will take the key, assuming he can navigate his way through the catacombs, assuming he knows how to use the key. I can see him grasping with the memories of when I led the way. It looked so easy, and he thinks he can do it too. He is wrong of course, but by that time Desi and I will be dead, so it doesn't really matter.\n\n\"It wasn't supposed to end like this!\"\n\nThe two men pointing their S and W's at me are complex characters, with rich backstories and many compelling relationships. One is my brother, the other will soon be dead. That is all you need to know for my purposes at this time.\n\n\"It wasn't supposed to end like this!\"\n\nThis noise is very distracting and I am growing weary of it. We are in the mayoral office of the town, Agora, known as Agora on the water. We are blockaded in the office, so that the local authorities cannot do their jobs. Their job is mostly to stop us from escaping with Desi Novareles, daughter of local tycoon, who is our hostage. Actually the hostage thing is supposed to be a scam, so that Desi and her cousin can take the money, and start a new life with freedom outside of their familial responsibilities and watching eyes. Only now John, just yesterday loyal to the Novareles, has decided that he might be the one who could use the money most. The Novareles are already very rich, and he is tired of their privilege. Desi's cousin, in charge of the local police force, is on the outside. He is the one who is yelling. He cannot really say much without becoming suspect.\n\n\"It wasn't supposed to end like this!\"\n\nDesi's eyes. Golden fields. The sirens and her cousin's shrill cries. The guns in my face. John is yelling rapidly at me, but I'm only pretending to hear. It's starting to become too much. John is saying something about join us or die, we have you outnumbered, something about how he'll kill her. I look at my brother. My brother winks. My brother looks at John's friend. John looks at my brother. Desi looks back at me, and I savor the gaze. My brother shoots the unnamed man. John shoots Desi. My brother shoots John. I walk over to Desi's body, and remove the key from where she had hidden it. She knew how to get to the bottom, and she knew how to use the key. It was too late for her. We leave the corpses, and travel down the steps of the crypt, into the darkness again.\n\n\"Did you love her?\" my brother asks.\n\n\"Once\", I reply.\n\n\"Is her cousin right? Was it not supposed to end like this?\"\n\n\"What do you think?\"\n\n\"All according to plan,\" he says with a small grin.\n\n\"All according to plan,\" I lie.\n\n\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] Tell me of a time that an unstoppable force met an immovable object.	[ "His first nickname was Dr. J. Then the kids heard about Julius Erving. Their parents were old enough to remember. So there was already a Dr. J and everyone knows the coolest nicknames can only belong to one. This one needed the coolest nickname ever and I happened to agree.\n\nThey considered the other options. For the kids of The Center, nicknaming their new hope became a creative workshop. Except every suggestion was valid and nobody felt left out. Just figuring out what to call him became a community effort to bring them together. For me, it felt just like a block party without the kegs of beer and inner-suburban current of materialism. For the kids, it was a shared excitement that help was on the way. Their excitement turned help into hope.\n\nBut before hope could arrive, it needed a nickname. All the goofiest nicknames that you'd expect from a group of kids coping with physical agony and the onset of anguish taking an immense toll both psychologically and emotionally. The kids needed a hero. The best way to grant hero status is to assign a cool name. An alter ego.\n\nThey tossed suggestions around like the actual kids they were. Before they had been plucked from life and their bodies betrayed them from the inside out. After the betrayal had hit them so hard, seeing them rally was a remarkable sight. Knowing that they had been specifically chosen over money and prestige spoke to them in ways every age level understood. Their expiration dates didn't loom so large anymore. The childhood equivalent of a death row exoneration had been presented with new ideas which included them as opposed to merely utilizing them. \n\nBeing included in the future introduced a sense of metabolism; a welcome change from the constant and precocious familiarity they had developed with the oily yin and yang of metastisization and remission. The metabolic currents ran wild and brought their parents to tears to see so much electricity return to circuits long thought to be burnt out. Some of the tears seemed to be of shame; almost as if the funerals had been planned and their children were already lost. This was the first of many pithy and amateur social psychiatric observations I kept to myself.\n\nWhile their parents watched, they continued their search for a worthy nickname. \n\n“J-Mac” was proposed but quickly decided to be too easy. It made him sound like a teacher trying too hard to be cool. This made me smile because I'd done the exact same thing when I'd started as a teacher. Trying too hard to be cool was not how you gave hope the power it needed.\n\t\nAfter “J-Mac” came “J-Mickey D”.\n\n“Mickey” came into play because they'd stalked his social media and found pictures from our honeymoon at Disney World. They enjoyed most an image from the day he'd sported a Mickey Mouse Club cap. That cap stayed on his head all day long just because I'd wondered how something so dumb could still exist. By the time the kids found that photo, I'd long since learned to treasure the spirit that took my cynicism at the time and turned it into a dare. It was that spirit that made him the perfect candidate to be their hope but to me, it was what I loved most about him. That picture had become the picture for me. I could have told them about how important the picture was in the grand scheme of my life but certain luxuries are best kept in perspective.\n\nSoon enough, however, J-Mickey D was discarded and the photo was forgotten. It hurt my feelings a bit but my feelings could take it. I knew they needed something cooler and their feelings were rallying in response. The nickname couldn't come from his dorky, extroverted willingness to force my borders to expand. The nickname needed to be forged from iron in the fire via blood from the demon Tumorus Malignus. A nickname more streamlined and bad-ass. \n\nNot a nickname. A moniker. An alter-ego.\n\nIf hope were going to walk in the door, it needed to be identified via the shortest and sweetest means possible. The kids shared a burden with a name weighed heavily by vowels and rooted in Latin standards. To fight this burden, their hope had to stand at odds. \n\nHope needed swagger and sweetness existing in a tender balance. Consonants and alliteration that grew larger than life but remained humble at heart. Towering monoliths of cast iron that inspired attitude and bad-itude but left room for tenderness and empathy. Hope had to hug with one arm and throw a mighty punch with the other. A nickname to end all nicknames. A moniker that dropped the microphone and walked away. An alter-ego for a superhero.\n\nThey called him JMZ.\n\nWhat made the alter ego funny is that I already used it during a road trip a few years prior. We'd agreed if I drove the first hundred miles, he would switch the music at my immediate command. So he was my discman and I jokingly told him his initials would make a “cool” DJ name. Now it was Superman to his Clark Kent. No pressure or anything.\n\nJMZ vs. Cancer and I got to be Lois Lane.", "WELL LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING BROTHER, WHEN I WAS THE UNSTOPPABLE FORCE, DUUUUDE, I MET ANDRE THE GIANT INFRONT OF 3 BILLION SCREAMING HULKAMANIACS IN THE SILVERDOME BROTHER. AND WHEN I SLAMMED THE 3000LBS GIANT THE CROWD WENT BANANAS AND THAT IS THE GREATEST MOMENT IN THE HISTORY OF EVERYTHING BROTHER JACK DUDE.\n \nHulk Hogan vs Andre The Giant, WrestleMania 3. As described by Hogan himself.\n \nI have never visited this subreddit before, and I never will again." ]	2
	[WP] A rare coma experience allowed one man to think for "a million years", though only one day passed on earth. He just woke up.	[ "My name is James Stanley.\n\nDo you know what it's like, to face the darkness? Have you ever stood in the depths of a cave, light extinguished, and held your breath? For a brief moment, it feels like you don't exist at all.\n\nAnd yet, somehow, it continues. \n\nWhat happened to me? How did I get here? I try to think back; I had settled in for another night at home, when...what?\n\nI'd tripped. That's right. The memory becomes clearer in my mind; I'd tripped, and the corner of the desk came whirling closer - a flash of white, then...\n\nMy Name is James Stanley.\n\nWas this a coma? Was I lying on my bedroom floor, slowly starving to death? How long would it take before someone came to look for me? Days? Weeks?\n\nI try to scream, but it doesn't work. Screaming in your head is surprisingly devoid of emotion. Try it sometime. Or don't; it's probably better for your sanity that way. Either way, it didn't make a difference. Nobody came. The darkness continued. Surely days must have passed already, shouldn't they? Somebody had to come looking for me soon. \n\nSomeone.\n\nAnyone.\n\nNo-one. \n\nI had read about sensory deprivation before; as a child, I'd read the science fiction, Asimov and Heinlein and Mccaffrey; I knew that it could drive a person insane. I had to give myself some sort of reference. Some way to count the passage of time. Helpless, I begin to count;\n\n1, 2, 3, 4, 5...\n\n5001, 5002, 5003, 5004, 5005...\n\n50001...50001...50001...no, two. Wait, where was I? What...\n\nMy name is James Stanley.\n\nI know I'm beginning to lose it. My attempts at meditation are failing faster and faster; how can I clear my mind when the real world is already nothing but...nothing? What if someone finally comes to save my body, only to find my mind a gibbering wreck? \n\nI need something more. Something that takes extra effort.\n\nSo I try to imagine a rock.\n\nI know, I know. I'm not a terribly imaginative individual. But then, I've never had any reason to really use my imagination, you know? Just a simple rock, grey and round. At first it's just a faint image in my mind; a dream of an illusion, but as time passes, the detail increases. I begin to add facets to the rock, carving away small pieces, trying to imagine in full detail what they would look like. I zoom closer, adding detail after detail, until I'm inscribing on the molecules themselves; I can't remember the exact rules, so I make up new ones. \n\nIt seems like months pass, just imagining that one rock; maybe I really am going crazy.\n\nFinally, though, it's finished. I feel inordinately proud; after all, it's just a rock, floating in a sea of darkness. But still...in this rock, there is more effort than anything else I've ever done. For the first time in years, I feel...proud.\n\n...The rock looks awfully lonely.\n\nIf I had lips, a ghost of a smile would have lit up upon them. I begin to focus once again.\n\nMonths later, a second rock joins it. A happy little friend, Bob Ross would have said. And there, as I stare at these two rocks, I realize what it is that I'm doing; \n\nI'm painting. I'm painting a world, and my mind is the canvas.\n\n-----------\n\nTime passes more quickly for me now, I think, though it's hard to tell for sure. The rocks look incomplete just floating, so I create a patch of land for them to rest on. But that dirt seems incomplete as well; soon enough, it, too, is impossible to tell from real dirt.\n\nBut dirt would be incomplete without a sky.\n\nSky would be incomplete without a sun.\n\nThe sun torches the ground; I try to grow plants, but they boil away, and I realize that somehow, I created a vacuum, or at least assumed one must exist. Air comes next. Then more land, more plants, more air. \n\nMore everything.\n\n-----------\n\n999999.99 years later.\n\n-----------\n\nAmanda groans, reaching across me to turn off the alarm clock, her lithe form sliding against mine in a delightful way, before the curtains of her hair obscure the light of the rising sun shining through the windows that look out over New Stanton. Her lips brush against mine, and I can feel their gentle curve as she smiles. \"It's too early,\" she moans, falling back onto the sheets next to me, \"Could you roll it back a few hours?\" Her eyes are puffy and red, but she's still as adorable as the day I met her.\n\n\"Of course,\" I reply, leaning forwards to bring my lips to hers once again. By the time I lean back, the sun has set once again, and she snuggles up against me, her warmth soaking into my heart.\n\n----------\n\nAnd then, abruptly, it disappears. The warm buzz of love is replaced by a cold ache in my head, and I'm blinded when I open my eyes by the light of the rising sun through my window. Where am I? What...?\n\nThe memories come rushing back. Yes, this had been my life, hadn't it? I stare around at the empty wrappers and discarded pizza boxes, the chipped paint on the walls of my tiny room. Blood stains the carpet beneath where my head lay.\n\nNobody had come looking for me.\n\nI crawl laboriously to my knees, then to my feet, my pendulous form not following my mental commands like I had grown accustomed. It felt like, if I could just stand there, think back for long enough, I could return; go back to my beloved Amanda. Like I could go home.\n\nMy reverie is interrupted by a pounding on my door. \"Stanley!\" the voice yelled. \"Stanley, I know you're in there! You're late for this month's rent!\" More pounding. \"Dammit Stanley, open up or I'll get the foreman to break this door down-\"\n\nI open the door.\n\n\"There you are,\" he says with barely disguised disgust. \"Look, I understand you're having a hard time and all, but I can't let you stay here if you don't pay the rent.\"\n\nI open my mouth to speak; my voice is raspy, dry. \"What date is it?\" I ask.\n\nHe rolls his eyes, \"The 16th, buddy. A day after the due date. Now pay up, eh?\"\n\n\"You don't understand-\" I begin, before he cuts me off.\n\n\"I understand plenty well, buddy. I understand that if you don't get me my money by tomorrow, you're gonna be out on the street, capisce?\"\n\n\"No, no, you don't understand,\" I say again, my eyes going into the middle distance. \"I was a god...\"\n\nHe raises an eyebrow. \"Nice. Now magic me up some god damn money, alright?\" He sniffs the air coming from behind me, and wrinkles his nose, \"And take a shower, for chrissake. Smells like blood and piss in there.\"\n\nI stare at his ugly face. I had been a god. For a million years, I'd rules a universe of my own making. Only to have it all taken away? Only to have her taken away?\n\nIt wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.\n\nBut no matter how hard I strained, the world remained, unchanged.\n\nMy name is James Stanley. I am not a god.\n\nEnd of journal.", "I can't remember what precipitated my endless hell. Sometimes I knew that something was wrong, that this wasn't real, but other times I let myself be pulled under the waves of insanity. It was a beautiful feeling to let go. That helped the passing of time. There were times where I went hundreds, thousands of years delirious uncaring of what my mind conjured to taunt or cajole me with. Then, like a knife piercing my skull, I was aware. I was so aware. Hundreds of thousands of years. It felt like a day it felt like forever.\n\n\nIn the beginning, I tried to create a familiar world to interact with. I made up people. I made up beautiful villages and cities and worlds. As my mind deteriorated, so did the worlds I made. The people always degenerated into sadistic, PATHETIC animalistic beings that wiped each other out. It happened every time I made a new world. Eventually I stopped making them. Was I a god? Am I God? Who knows.\n\n\nI think I had a name. It doesn't exist anymore. I don't exist anymore. There is nothing there is everything there is nothing. There. Is. Everything. It doesn't end. It never ends.\n\n\nSometimes I forget that I can't die. I forget and then I try again. Why can't I die? Why can't I just die?! I must be a god. There is no God. I'm so aware.\n\n\nBeep beep beep beep\n\n\nWhat... Noise? What is noise? I can hear...\n\n\n\"Nurse! Nurse!! I think he's waking up!\"\n\n\nWas it a dream? Was this all just a dream? There's light. THERE'S LIGHT. It's like... it's like I'm seeing for the first time in my life but also like I've always seen. I don't understand.\n\n\n\"Jacob! Jacob, can you hear me?\" Who is Jacob? Is that a person? Is that a human being? I haven't seen another human being in several millennia-OH GOD WHAT IS THIS WHAT IS THIS SENSATION... WHAT AM I FEELING? \"Jacob, calm down, you've been in an accident. You're in the hospital. A car ran a red light and hit you. You were in a come for a day. Do you understand?\" The pain... It's so real... Wait. Waitwaitwait. Did she say it was only a day? It was only a day? IT WAS ONLY A DAY? IT WAS ONLY A DAY?\n\n\nI see the doctor (huh, so that's the word) IT WAS ONLY A DAY push another woman forward. Her face is swollen. IT WAS ONLY A DAY She's crying. \"Jake? Jakey? Oh honey, it's going to be OK. Don't worry, I love you, thank God you're alive.\" \n\n\n\"WHY? WHY? WHY?\" I yell and kick, my side screaming in protest but it doesn't matter because IT WAS ONLY A DAY.\n\n\n\"Get the orderlies! We need to sedate him!\" NO. NO NO NO NO I AM NOT GOING BACK. I AM NOT GOING BACK. I look frantically around for something, anything. My throat is burning from screaming. Why?! I see the woman cry even harder. I see the sharp, metal object on the table near my bed. \n\n\nWhat if this is a dream too? What if this is like that Inception movie? Oh, wow, why do I remember that. I can't go back. \n\n\nI grab the knife. I hear the screaming peter out and distantly recognize that it's my voice turning into gurgling noises as I jam the knife into my throat and run it across. I pull out the knife and start stabbing myself in the chest over and over again. There's pain, so much pain, but it's almost sweet. More people come in and grab my wrists, their grip slippery from all of my blood. It doesn't matter though. It feels like the end. I look up and smile as I fight for a breathe that won't come.\n\n\nMy name is Jacob and I am no more.\n\n\n[Plz be gentle it's my first time ;D]", "\"He's awake?\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes Mrs. Holt.\"\n\n\n\n\"So why can't I see him?\"\n\n\n\n\"We have him under observation.\"\n\n\n\n\"Is he in danger? I thought you said he was stable.\"\n\n\n\n\"Mrs. Holt, we don't want to draw any conclusions as of yet.\"\n\n\n\n\"Spit it out, what's wrong with him?\"\n\n\n\n\"I can't say.\"\n\n\n\n\"So let me see him.\"\n\n\n\n\"Please Mrs. Holt, just give us a day with him, okay?\"\n\n\n\n\"You said the worst is over, is it?\"\n\n\n\n\"...yes Mrs. Holt. It is.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nHe returns. There are 100 ways to kill him with one of his own pens.\n\n\n\"Mr. Holt?\"\n\n\n\n\"...\"\n\n\n\n\"Mr. Holt?\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\n\n\"Let's go over this again.\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\n\n\"Do you understand you were in a coma for only a day?\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\n\n\"When you woke up you were combative.\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\n\n\"You said you were somewhere else.\"\n\n\n\n\"I screamed it, yes.\"\n\n\n\n\"You said you spent one million years there.\"\n\n\n\n\"Again, I screamed, but yes.\"\n\n\n\n\"Can you tell us any more?\"\n\n\n\n\"It's gone, temporary psychosis, nonsense, surely you didn't believe me.\"\n\n\n\n\"We believed you believed it, you sounded sincere.\"\n\n\n\n\"A coma is a coma, whether for a day or a million years, it doesn't matter.\"\n\n\n\n\"Your wife was here.\"\n\n\n\n\"Can I see her now?\"\n\n\n\n\"I asked her to come back tomorrow. Let me get you a tissue.\"\n\n\n\n\"Thank you. May I have a shower? I'd like to get cleaned up before she sees me.\"\n\n\n\n\"Well, you seem lucid, I'll ask an orderly to remove the restraints. He'll have to watch you shower, I'm sorry but it's hospital policy.\"\n\n\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\n\n\nThere should be a word for streetlamps overgrown with tree branches. The shadows they make recall the horde in battle.\n\n\n\n\n\"Frank?\"\n\n\n\n\"Sal\"\n\n\n\n\"Oof! You'll crack my ribs hugging me so tight.\"\n\n\n\n\"I missed you Sal. You can't know how much.\"\n\n\n\n\"Got any tissues? This hospital issue is sandpaper.\"\n\n\n\n\"Sure you big lug, plenty for us both.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nI fought from the pits to god emperor once. It appears I must do so again. A man must build. I have built so very much. I don't know how else to exist.\n\n\n\n\n\"What are these notes?\"\n\n\n\n\"Scribbles, just fun.\"\n\n\n\n\"Fun with foreign languages?\"\n\n\n\n\"Nonsense, made up.\"\n\n\n\n\"They're beautiful Frank, what do they say?\"\n\n\n\n\"How beautiful you are and how much I love you.\"\n\n\n\n\"Frank! Ouch! Your hands are like claws!\"\n\n\n\n\"Sorry Sally.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nThe first rule is to be feared and loved but not hated.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nPerhaps I will find a way to spare the hospital. They laid hands on me. They also saved me. A delicate question of response to meditate upon. I have time. The gate is permanent.\n\n\n\n\nA day here is a day.\n\n\n\nEvery night, I return to my kingdoms for another million years. Sometimes naked, sometimes mad, sometimes the wise man, often the fool, sometimes emperor, sometimes otherwise.\n\n\n\nAcross these chasms, my love for my wife remains, time is whatever I say it is.\n\n\nI'm glad I wake earlier than her.\n\n\n\nSo far, she has not commented on my morning tears.", "\"Good morning Jonathan. How do you feel?\" the nurse said cheerily. The nervousness in her voice showed, the superficial smile and the pristine white uniform.\n\n\nI had woken up.\n\n\n\"Put me back in.\" It wasn't a statement, or request. It was a command.\n\n\n\"...I'm sorry Mr. Sunder? You've been in a coma fo-\" It must have been her first day, or I must have been the first she woke.\n\n\n\"Put me back into the coma. Now.\"\n\n\nHand covering her now slack jawed mouth, she hurried out of the room, the click clacking of her flats fading away. Getting the doctor, of course. Must have been new.\n\n\nI look around. A sterile environment. Beige walls, black monitors, white devices. Not even a day's worth of dust has accumulated in this clean room The sheets were tidy and there was an air of perfection. \n\n\nI hated it.\n\n\nFinally, the doctor walked it. It had been precisely 312 seconds since the departure of Nurse Hadley and the introduction of Doctor Francoise Charbonneau, a francophone from Canada. His accent, the Canadian shoes and his salt and pepper hair told me as much. \n\n\n\"Good morning Mr. Sunder. Nurse Hadley was telling me that you are under some form of stress. It's completely normal under the circumstances. We had thought best to induce you into a coma to allow the swelling to be reduced. How do you feel?\"\n\n\nHis accent was clear enough, but it couldn't mask his origins. His face was calm, sincere in stark contrast to Nurse Hadley, hiding approximately 60 cm behind him, protecting herself from me with the clipboard.\n\n\n\"Doctor, I would like to be placed back into the coma immediately.\"\n\n\nHe looked at me peculiarly. No change in the facial structure, no emotional change, nothing of significance to him had been said.\n\n\n\"Jenine, leave the room.\" He murmured. He maintained eye contact with me the entire time, this time finally raising his bushy eyebrows.\n\n\nHe sat down on a chair he pulled up. The screeching noise was deliberate, but he looked smug as he sat down.\n\n\n\"Curious isn't it, how time passes to us all individually, right Jon?\" His voice wasn't condescending. It was only calm, filled with a voice yearning to be heard, attention to be directed.\n\n\nI didn't answer.\n\n\nHe continued, \"What you experience, the elongation of time and the ability to linger with consciousness, there isn't a name for it now, nor is it well understood. But only certain people actually experience it and only under very specific circumstances.\"\n\n\nAn academic. Save me from this terrible curse, please.\n\n\n\"I suppose, directly to the point, what I am trying to communicate is that you are a very, very luck individual. However, you are not the only person to have gone into deep think.\"\n\n\nI raised my eyebrow. Skepticism comes too easily after thinking for such a period of time, in fact it was as if-\n\n\n\"I had a daughter once. Beautiful girl, young bright thing of twelve. A truck driver had hit us, side on. Was taking a bite of his sandwich, hadn't eaten the entire twenty-four hours he was awake. I don't blame him.\" He looked down, as if to look down and see her in the flesh. A tinge of sorrow and almost regret passed through him.\n\n\n\"Anyways, by the time they found us, she had passed and I was already unconscious. In a coma, as it were, like you were yesterday.\"\n\n\nHe returned his gaze upon me. \"What did you think about? Philosophy? History? Your job perhaps? Maybe a loved one, or a friend...\"\n\n\nHis voiced tapered off, telling me that it was my turn to respond.\n\n\n\"The accident. I thought of the accident. The intersection, the imagery of the entire scene. I visualized and created a model to determine how the two vehicles ended up.\" I was quivering. I was nervous now. It seemed like an age ago since I thought about the accident.\n\n\n\"And then what?\" the Doctor inquired.\n\n\n\"Then... everything else...\"\n\n\n---\n\n\nWe talked for about thirty minutes about various topics ranging from Bertrand Russell to theoretical physics. For a medical professional, he certainly empathized with me such that we were the same person. Millions of years of thinking can lead to some strange things, but this was certainly a first.\n\n\nNear the end of his rambling on how he designed a system in his mind to visualize his daughter, he said with finality, \"We can't bring you back.\"\n\n\nI knew at that moment that he had tried to do the same thing. To return to that space of mind, to visualize the time and thoughts for those years, to return to the moment of pure bliss.\n\n\nHe pressed his hand to his forehead, then stood up wearily. \"We can't bring you back, but you will recover in a about twenty-four to forty-eight hours. If you are interested in going back truly, just step in front of a truck and hope for the best.\"\n\n\nAnd with that morbid thought, he called for the nurse to administer a new IV. I watched him leave with such sadness in him that I questioned my own existence. \n\n\n---\n\n\nI was at home finally when my cell phone rang. It was my girlfriend. I let the phone buzz away. The moment I had returned to the apartment, escorted by the nurse, I wrote down some notes from my ... eternal thoughts. It read as follows:\n\n\n1. Step in front of a moving truck.\n\n\n2. Recite the Encyclopedia Britannica again.\n\n\n3. Get Milk.\n\n\nSome part of me became detached at the moment, breaking in half. The weight of the world crashed on my senses and I froze. I would never see or know the world that I had know from that coma. \n\n\nThe regret does not lie in knowing you cannot go back. It lies in knowing that it will all be lost. I slumped to my knees and let the phone buzz.", "I don't remember who I am.\n\n\"He's waking up,\" the doctor said with a pleased smile, \"We didn't know how long you were gonna be. Your friends and family have been here since last night waiting for your return.\" \n\nThe doctor still held a pleasant grin. I looked around and saw vaguely familiar faces, some round, some sharp, and eyes of all different expressions. There was something telling in those glass beads—they were just as surprised about this as I was.\n\n“Jeffe,” a woman said as she moved closer to grab my left hand, cupping it within both of hers, “We were all so worried about you,” she paused again as if affected by her own words, “Like the doctor said, we had no clue how long you would be gone.” I could see tears begin to well up in her eyes, but I had no words for her. \n\nWhoever she was.\n\n“It’s good to see you well again, brother,” a hand firmly pressed and then rested on my right shoulder which urged me to turn around. He had a rugged smile and square jaw: he looked like a fighter, maybe. He said brother, but did he mean it in a friendly way or a literal way? I turned again to quickly scan through all the other patient faces. As I did, the strangest feeling had overcome me.\n\nI don’t know these people, but they seem to know me. I felt like an urn, an empty vessel, which could only ever hope to be made whole with the help of others. These people, whoever these people were to me those eternities ago—they were nothing now. They were nothing more than foggy mirrors that produced untrue reflections of a person that no longer existed.\n\nAll that time spent wherever I was had made me into something different. Even now, I can only vaguely remember the early feelings of confusion, and of anger. Then time passed indefinitely and the only thing that changed was me. My thoughts were my demons at first, and then they were my only friends. The atrophy, the slow decay, of my identity, my ego, had caused me to regress into something these people could never understand.\n\nI was my own universe. I don’t remember who I am.\n", "I awake so suddenly that I almost open my eyes.\n\nBut that would be telling, I think suppressing a smile.\n\nThe fact that I'm still alive means that I wasn't experiencing an afterlife. That means the first order of business is to determine how long I've been out. The only sounds that I can hear are the beeping of the heart monitor and the steady in-and-out of my own breath. No one else is in the room. My left cheek is warmer than my right and the inside of that eyelid looks distinctly more red than the right. The sun is shining through a window. That means that I haven't been out more than a month or two, or I would have been moved to that room in the basement where they keep all the long-term coma patients. I hazard cracking open my eyes. To my right lies a divider curtain. They would only have that up if there was someone there, but there isn't. That means that either they died and haven't been taken to the morgue yet, or they are in surgery. Further inspection reveals that I don't have any sort of \"Get Well Soon\" cards by my bedside or anywhere in the room. My parents haven't been here yet, which can only mean that I haven't been in here more than a day or two.\n\nGood, now to ascertain my injuries.\n\nI don't see any obvious signs of damage. I'm only on one IV drip, saline to avoid dehydration, so I can't have had any injury other than the obvious head wound. I try sitting up. When I don't get dizzy or nauseous, I figure that I can probably hazard a walk. I pull off my O2 monitor, and swing my legs over the side of the bed.\n\nColleen, I'm coming, I call out silently as I start hobbling towards the curtain.\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nWe had been fighting a lot recently. It was mostly petty things: who should clean the dishes, why can't I leave the dirty dishes in the sink and clean all of them at once after supper, when should we go to bed, why did she ruin the book I was reading, why did I leave it in the bathroom in the first place, etc. We were going out to lunch to talk things over at a neutral location where neither of us would have to worry about dishes. I was driving. She was making a joke. \"What's the difference between a train and a tree?\" \"I don't know. What's the difference?\" \"One leaves its shed; the other–\"\n\nI've replayed the scene over hundreds of times in my head. The light was green. That truck was slowing down. Not fast enough. It had plenty of space to stop if it was going to stop, but it didn't. It just made sure it t-boned us.\n\nWhat makes us special? Who could I have pissed off enough for them to want to kill me? How did they know where we were going? We hadn't decided that we were going anywhere until five minutes before we left.\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nIt wasn't love at first sight. The first time I saw her was while I was eating lunch in the breakroom at work. I didn't think much of it at the time, nor did I pay much attention to any of the other four people in the room. I was just a seasonal employee. I didn't need to get to know anyone outside of my own department.\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nThe bed is empty. The whiteboard on the wall says the missing patient is a \"Joe Sleath\" and that he is here recovering from a stroke. The date on the whiteboard confirms that I have only been here for one day. I hobble out into the hallway and head towards the nurse's station.\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nA few months later, I am hired back in a permanent position. She introduces herself one day in the breakroom.\n\n\"You look familiar. Didn't you work here at one point?\"\n\nYes. I couldn't find another job since Christmas, and you guys were hiring.\n\n\"Nice to meet you again. I'm Colleen.\"\n\nI'm James.\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nThe nurse seems shocked to see me awake.\n\n\"You need to go lie down.\"\n\n\"Where's my wife?\"\n\n\"Sir, I must insist that you go lie down.\"\n\n\"Where's my wife?\"\n\n\"You were in a coma. They haven't even figured out what was wrong with you yet. You need to go lie down so that you don't stroke or faint.\"\n\n\"It wasn't a concussion, or they wouldn't have left me sleep. I didn't have any symptoms before the crash, nor did I break any skin during the crash. It was most likely just some mild trauma or shock. It isn't like I got a car door to bend inwards and hit me in the ribs.\n\n\"Where's my wife?\"\n\n\"I-\" the nurse said, looking conflicted for a second before giving in. \"At least let me get you a wheelchair, and I'll bring you to go see her.\"\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nEvery time that we worked together over the next few weeks, she would say hi, and I would stick my tongue out at her in return.\n\n\"What's with the tongue?\"\n\nIt's just how I say hello.\n\n\"Oh good, I was worried that you didn't like me.\"\n\nOf course I like you.\n\nShe beamed at me, and for the first time in a long time, I felt happy.\n\nDo you want to go get coffee sometime?\n\n\"Sure.\"\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nThe nurse tries to make small talk as we work our way to the elevators.\n\n\"How long have you been married?\"\n\nMy brain screams at me, but I shut it out. I've spent too long agonizing over that eventuality to let it get to me.\n\n\"Three years.\"\n\n\"You must love her a lot to ignore your own issues to see her.\"\n\n\"There might not even be anything wrong with me. She got hit with a truck. I would have to be the worst husband in history to not go see her.\"\n\nI expect more questions, but she remains silent the rest of the way.\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nSix months of bliss passed by in a blur. I knew that I always wanted to be this happy. I knew she was the only one who could make me this happy. It was no longer a question of \"if\", but \"when\". I bought a ring and waited for the right moment. Two weeks later, it came.\n\nWe were having dinner at home and she made the most delicious macaroni and cheese that I had ever tasted. After we had our fill, I went down on one knee.\n\nI know this is cheesy, but I don't know what I would do without you. Colleen Margaret Cooper, will you marry me?\n\nThen came the best syllable of my life.\n\n\"Yes!\"\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nThe nurse hits the button for the basement level.\n\n\"I think you made a mistake.\" My brain won't stop screaming. There are only two reasons why she would be down there.\n\n\"According to the computer, that's where she is.\"\n\n\"Then, someone must have put it in the computer wrong.\"\n\n\"That must be it.\"\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nSix months later, we were married in a white steeple surrounded by friends and family. It was the happiest day of my life. We spent half of the next week lounging in our bed, and the other half lying on the beach. Less than a year later, our son was born. It might have been the sleep deprivation, but the next six months were even better than those first six. Over the next year-and-a-half, things slowly started going downhill. We fought more and more over the tiniest things. Despite my best efforts, I went to bed angry once or twice.\n\n\"We need to stop arguing.\"\n\nYes.\n\n\"We're both tired of it. Let's go talk it out over lunch.\"\n\nWho'll watch Jack?\n\n\"He's taking a nap, but I'll get Sam to come watch him. She owes me one.\"\n\nWhere should we go?\n\n\"Let's figure that out when we get there.\"\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\n\"No!\" I shout. The body is lying on a stainless steel table, covered in a white sheet. I try to stand, but I can't seem to remember how. \"No, she can't be... I can't be...\"\n\nThe nurse wheels me right up next to her and pulls back the sheet.\n\n\"I'm sorry.\"\n\nThere's no denying it. Her face looks peaceful, like she's just sleeping. The only thing that mars its perfection is a single cut on her cheek, but the rest of her lies in a twisted mess. I hold what remains of her hand and stroke her hair.\n\n\"It's gonna be alright. The doctors here are the best. They'll fix you right up. You'll be out of here before you even know it. Sam is watching Jack right now, but they'll come over and see you soon. I promise. In a few years, he'll be old enough that we can take another trip to Hawaii and see those beaches again. I know how much you loved those beaches...\" I trail off as I remember why we're here.\n\n\"I figured it out. The difference between a train and a tree is that a train leaves its shed and a tree sheds its leaves.\" I burst into a wet giggle. Tears are streaming down my cheeks. \"That was a good one. Did you hear it from Sam? I know she loves that kind of joke.\"\n\nI choke. There are too many words trying to get out at once and not enough space. I start sobbing uncontrollably.\n\n__________________________________________________________________________\n\nI awake so suddenly that I can't stop myself from opening my eyes. I take a slow look around the room.\n\nColleen notices the movement and lifts her head up from my stomach. I notice the tears that still mar her cheeks.\n\n\"Hey sleepyhead,\" she manages, trying to keep her face from betraying the truth. \"I was almost worried for a bit there.\"\n\n\"You got me,\" I croak. \"I'll do the dishes right away.\"\n\nHer face bursts into the beam that I fell in love with, and I know that everything will be alright.", "His eyelids started to flicker open.\n\n\"He's waking up! Mom, he's waking up! He-\"\n\nI stopped. The doctor had just walked in, but I could tell by the doctor's face that something was wrong. \"May I talk to the two of you for a second?\" the doctor said.\n\n\"Sure,\" I muttered. What's going on? The doctor led my mom and I outside the room.\n\n\"We were looking through a MRI not long ago. It appears that his brain has somehow deteriorated, and I think that he has developed severe brain damage.\"\n\nMy mom had a look of shock, and asked if she could leave. I could hear her start to cry as she walked down the hallway.\n\n\"What do you mean?\" I asked.\n\n\"He's only 34, correct?\" I nodded.\n\nThe doctor sighed. \"His brain is in a state which would not be out of place for a 100-something year old; ergo, it's as if he has been aging rapidly, and he might not even remember most of his past. It's almost as if he was in a coma for a million years.\" \n\nThe doctor went after my mom, most likely to comfort her.\n\nI turned around and looked back at him. He appeared to be awake.\n\nI asked him, \"Do you remember me?\"\n\nAll I got was a blank stare.", "My eyes opened upon the familiar and beautiful faces of my family and friends. I shook with sobs. \"Thought I'd never see that smile of yours again,\" said my brother, wiping away tears and smiling down at me.\n\nAlthough amazed to see them I felt an almost unbearable tension - a need to share my experiences from my uncountable time spent drifting through an eternal void, a world of impossible shapes, infinite patterns, and above all, a realization so powerful that it would shake the human race in to an entirely new understanding of itself, and most importantly, would immediately relieve all the world's suffering.\n\nA deep, steadying breath and I opened my mouth to speak. To my horror, an unrecognizable, garbled sound came from my mouth. \n\nA firm hand covered my mouth. \"You have experienced a rare medical event,\" said a middle-aged doctor standing over me. \"Only a day has passed, but your perception of time was warped so that you experienced what felt like a million years worth of time\" she said. \"That's a lot of time spent not moving or speaking. Although the passage of all that time wasn't real, to your brain it was. We haven't done an MRI yet, but it is very likely that during that time your brain made changes to itself that no other human brain has ever made. Our brains are spectacular machines - they change based on how we use them. Since you weren't using the parts of your brain dedicated to fine motor control, it is likely that you have lost many of your abilities to control and direct your movements voluntarily...perhaps permanently.\"\n\nDespair shot through me. How could I communicate my experiences?\n\n\"Do you understand?\"\n\nI tried to nod, or convey that I understood in any way - a small spasm shook me and I blinked automatically, but no words came. \n\nI began to think of other possibilities for ways to communicate - perhaps I could use some sort of code based on small motor movements? But before I could begin to conceive of a strategy, I found that my surroundings were fading, the faces I loved were blurring, the voice of the doctor was becoming a faint hum...and the familiar infinite void of my own thoughts again swallowed me. Perhaps after another million years I will have another chance.", "“I’ve had a lot of time to think, maybe even too much time. My life was riddled with problems before the incident. I had a family who hated me, a wife who couldn’t be bothered with me, my work in accounting was dead end if anything...well, that was a million years ago after all. Now I can enjoy the bliss that is the human mind without having to worry.”\n\nWith a vast expanse of empty space ahead of me, I hover forth. “It took me a hundred years to learn how to explore my memories, it took me a thousand to get over my unceasing madness that i’d always be alone, and it took me a hundred thousand to figure out the inner secrets of my body.”\n\n“All I can do is talk to myself, I can hear old memories, sometimes i’ll make new ones for fun. I’d fix a dumb mistake of mine here or there and in my mind at least, it’d be as if it never happened. It’s fun, writing a journal in my mind. I’m sure I must’ve died by now. I say it everyday but this has to be death, and although it’s not the greatest way to spend eternity...I can at least have some fun with it.”\n\nA sudden shaking riles the core of my mind. I haven’t experienced anything such as feeling for a million years, the shock of feeling another human gripping my hand caused me to pass out. I was back in my mind, for a time. “It has to be some sort of anomaly within my mind, there is no way I could be alive…” well, that’s what I thought. \n\nA piercing light fills my whole head, it’s an unfamiliar light, but it’s warm. Maybe this was me passing on? I suppose it’s a fine time to actually die, maybe it’d be better on the other side. I waited and waited, a warm smile filled my face, but it was ended by a maddening ringing in my ears. I lurch forward, my vision comes into focus, I can hear shouting and crying, i’m in a bed.\n\n“Noah!” I’m embraced by a voice that at this point has become unfamiliar, I close my eyes and think. It was as easy to travel through my mind while awake as it was while I was sleeping. The voice welcomed me in many of my memories, I finally remembered who it was.\n\n“M...mother?” it was the first time I heard my real voice in a long time. But more pressing questions urged me on, my mother was ranting on and praying and hugging me. I looked around for my wife, for my daughter, but it was just her and the doctor.\n\n“Where’s Jill? And Emma…?” I seemed disappointed, i’ve accepted that perhaps this was the afterlife. I’ve been gone for a million years after all, maybe I was going through what could’ve happened after the incident. \n\n“Dr. Samson...could you excuse me and my son for just a moment?” my mother pleaded gently to the doctor, the man said he’d be back in a few minutes and left the room. My mother gently took my hand, she was never this gentle, my mind was racing with all sorts of thoughts. I could perceive things much differently now. And suddenly, it all added up.\n\nBefore my mother was even able to open her lips I let out a wail and covered my face with a pillow, I cried as if I were feeling agonizing pain. The years that flew by...they weren’t years. Numbers came easy to me, I was counting things by the perspective of my mind back when I was unconscious. Because of that, time felt way longer than it should’ve. It has been approximately one day and seventeen minutes, and my wife, and my child, they’ve died. \n\nThe doctor had to rush into the room in order to sedate me, I quickly went back into my mind. I felt so much safer, maybe I could just sleep forever, maybe I could stay this way and relive memories with the one’s i’ve loved. In the journal I created in my head, I often ranted about how my wife didn’t appreciate me...well, that’s how I thought, it doesn’t mean I loved her any less. God I love her, I love my daughter too. \n\nI stayed under for another month, looking through old memories of my family. I couldn’t stop crying, everything was too fresh. Though it really helped me to cope, and though it pained me to have to wake up. I was heavily drugged but I broke through with ease. My eyes fluttered open and Dr. Samson who was standing over me seemed shocked.\n\n“How are you awake Mr. Greaves? I’ve just put you under Anesthesia... “ \n\n“Sorry, doctor.” I sit up and ruffle the covers off to one side of the bed, I gingerly step downward from the bed but the doctor tries to hold me down.\n\n“Mr. Greaves, I suggest you stay in bed. We don’t know the immediate effects of your condition…”\n\n“Doctor, i’ve been put under for about a minute correct? Where has my mother gone?”\n\nDr. Samson sighed and replied, “She left the room in tears. She didn’t like that I had to calm you down...but if I must i’ll do it again Mr. Greaves. So please lay down.”\n\nI shake my head and stand right back up, “It won’t work anymore Dr. Samson. You can’t control anything within my body anymore, that’s the truth.”\n\nI left it was vague as I could, it was tough to explain what I meant so I simply left the room and found my mother in the waiting area. She was weeping and that stung my heart a little. I went through my memories for about an hour until I could find something proper to say to her. However, on the outside it was but a short second.\n\nI walked over and put my arms around her, “Mom...i’m sorry. I’m okay.”\n\nShe shook her head, “You have such a sad life already Noah...you’re twenty eight and you have to go through so much grief…” \n\n“There’s nothing to grieve about….I loved them both so much, and it’s hard for me, but I can get past it. I have their memories, they’ll always be with me.” \n\nMy mom looked at me as if I was crazy, I went through about zero stages of grief and she thought I may have gone mad. The truth is, I went through them all within my mind. I have accepted it, though it’ll always hurt. No amount of memory tampering or memory making could change that. \n\n“Son...are you okay? Maybe we can get you help somewhere and-”\n\nI cut her off, “Remember when I was little...you were holding a letter and crying one night. And I asked what was going on, you said that dad left us?”\n\nShe didn’t understand why I was bringing it up as evident by her expression, but she nodded, “The letter….it said that he still loved you, but that he was leaving for himself...and that you shouldn’t greive. Am I correct?”\n\n“H-how did you know that Noah? I tore up the letter and tossed it into the fire without ever showing you…”\n\nThe truth was that I could see memories a little too well, I froze an image of the memory, walked over to my mother, and read the letter. Since i’ve seen it from every angle my mind was able to perceive what it would say. I felt like a superhero, or, I would’ve under better conditions.\n\n“I...you told me a day later, whatever.” \n\n“Nice save, me.”\n\nShe nodded, it was years ago after all, as far as she knew I was speaking the truth, “Well mom, I get greif. I clearly do, or else I wouldn’t be calm right now. Focus on the good memories...I love them….I still do, I want to be with them all the time...now I just have to wait till I can dream at night. I don’t need help, I just need my memories. You can get through it all with memories, that’s what i’ve learned from this whole ordeal.”\n\nMy mom seemed a little proud, she brought a hand to my cheek and brushed it lightly with her thumb, “My strong man...go back to the doctor. I’ll see you soon.”\n\nAnd I did that just.\n\n-----------------------------------------------\n\nA few days later I had to set up funeral preparations, It was a sad time for me even if I could deal with grief better. My friends were there for me though, so was the rest of my family despite my thought that they hated me. \"Maybe I should remain more optimistic...\"\n\n“Alright mind, we need to figure out Emma’s favorite color. Let’s get going!” A spectral version of myself flew through empty space, pulling at hovering frames of my family until I could find one of my sweet little girl. I rushed right on inside of the frame and took a glance at my favorite memory, the day we went to the forest to hunt for butterflies. She told me she loved blue, so I guess I got my answer.\n\nI enjoyed little inspirational speeches within my head, it made me feel like I wasn’t alone in there...perhaps I am not though. Maybe the memories of the people I love are equivalent to them being there! Even after a million years I couldn’t figure out everything about life or the vast complexity of our damned minds. What I could figure out is that we’re not meant to figure it out. I thought I was in the afterlife, I thought I was dead, and if that wasn’t death then there is something else to it. There can’t be nothing. \n\nI’ll use this gift of mine to figure out how far us humans can go, because we can go very far if we use our heads. " ]	9
	[WP] Humanity finally creates the first time machine. The moment the last piece is set in place, the door opens and someone who wasn't in there a moment ago steps out.	[ "Police Chief Wells rubbed her temples with her hands, unsuccessfully trying to massage away the throbbing pain. \"Give me the rundown on the Moinet murder,\" she heard herself say. She'd tried to read it herself but it gave her a headache. It was too late on a Friday to deal with this.\n\nThe detective gave his tablet a few quick swipes and opened the file. \"3:27pm April 4th. John Doe steps out of the Moinet Industries machine, looks around the room, and says \"Moinet\". Dr. Luis Moinet steps forward. John Doe pulls out his gun, shoots him and falls down on the floor laughing and singing. He was still on the floor laughing at 3:41 when the first responding officers got there.\"\n\n\"So our John Doe is crazy. He hates Moinet, hides in the box, shoots him.\" asserted Wells, willing this simple explanation to be true.\n\n\"That's the thing,\" said the detective hesitantly. \"We looked over the CCTV from Moinet Industries, we can't figure out how or when he got in the machine. There's video from every angle and all the footage is continuous for weeks. The science geeks there are working on some quantum thingy, they thought they were making history and wanted to capture everything.\"\n\n\"So the guy's a Houdini,\" said Wells dismissively. \"What else do we know about him?\"\n\n\"No match for prints, DNA, mug shot. Long scraggly hair and beard, bruises, poor nutrition, looks like he's been living rough for a while. He doesn't seem to understand us and speaks gibberish, only it's like some kind of language only he knows. The only word he understood from me was 'Moinet'; he spat on the floor when I said it. Otherwise he seems very pleased with himself, almost jubilant. Totally unconcerned with being in lockup.\"\n\n\"What about the weapon, can't we get a trace on it?\"\n\n\"No chance, it's homemade. Looks like an 18th century flintlock pistol. It's recent though, must be a replica.\"\n\n\"What else did he have on him?\"\n\n\"Old Roman Empire coins in pristine condition, a few arrowheads, some WWII-era German currency. And a small black box we can't open that's too heavy for its size and has \"Moinet Industries\" written on it. Looks like our John Doe is some kind of collector.\" \n\n\"Motive?\"\n\n\"No clue. Dr. Moinet was beloved by his staff and family. He co-owned the company with his wife, Dr. Weena Moinet. She wasn't present at the shooting. Word is that she's the real brains behind the company, so anyone trying to bring down Moinet Industries shot the wrong Dr. Moinet.\"", "He wore body armor of an unfamiliar type, covering every inch of his body except his head, which was protected by a clear bubble. He held a wide barrel gun at the ready. \n\"Chronoparadox Patrol. Please stand back.\" He spoke with clear authority. \nCaught completely off guard, the Temporal Travel development team did as they wete told. \nThe patrolman aimed his high-tech blunderbuss at the time machine he had just stepped out of and pulled the trigger. A flash of lightning struck the machine and [a sound of thunder]( http://teacherweb.com/ON/SacredHeartHighSchool/MrStriukas/A_Sound_of_Thunder.pdf) \n filled the room. When they could see again, the scientists discovered the machine was completely destroyed, and the patrolman had vanished. \nThe White House attaché, who had been present as an observer, turned to the chief scientist. \"Well, Doctor, that's the fourth time in a row. Do you think they're trying to tell us something?\"", "High heels clicked and pony-tailed hair flipped as she stepped out of the time machine, slamming the door to several million dollars worth of lab equipment behind her.\n\n\"Oh em gee! Do you even know how mad I am right now? It's my first night in the dorms, and Marlene got us all fakes, and we were going to slut it up and head out on the town, until some sleaze bag decided to-\" She cut off suddenly in her tirade and leaned forward slightly to peer at my face. \"Motherfucking thundercunt, you're Dr. John Nielsberg!\"\n\n\"Oh, um, not a doctor yet, I'm still a PHD student. How-\" I barely got that out before I was interrupted.\n\n\"Is this literally real life? My chit gets flipped on the worst night of the year, and it's John fucking Nielsberg?\"\n\n\"Your... chit?\"\n\n\"Yeah, you think you're the first scientist to bring someone back in time?\" A thoughtful look came over her face. \"Actually, you kind of are, now that I think of it. Seriously, this is, like, so rich. Grace Jane Donovan, PSCO flunkie, gets to be the one to educate the big N in proper temporal precautions, and, like, save the human race or whatever.\"\n\n\"Wait, save the human race?\"\n\n\"Well, not really. More like eliminate a really major inconvenience. Anyway, show me your code and your circuit whatsits and I'll fix 'em for you.\"\n\nI eyed the purple eyeshadow, four-inch diameter hoop earrings, and skin-tight leopard print minidress. \"You're an expert in temporal physics? I thought you said you were a dropout or something.\"\n\nShe rolled her eyes and began to pick her way across the cluttered laboratory floor, heading towards the main circuit board. \"No, I didn't drop out. I flunked the tests for Uni, so now I'm in Post Secondary Career Options, but I passed Standard Core like everyone else.\" She looked down at the wires and burst out laughing. \"I can't believe it! And you're supposed to be some sort of super genius? Did you seriously try to ground your flux mechanism by soldering the end of the wire to a metronome? And you used lead solder?\" She started tearing wires out by the handful. \"Alright, do you guys have an acetylene torch in this lab?\"\n\n\"What are you doing? It took me 10 weeks to make that circuit board!\"\n\nShe fixed me with a steely gaze. \"Look, famous name or not, I am legally obliged to fix your shit so you stop flipping randoms from the future. Then I can activate my emergency beacon, get picked up by the ITP, and return to my plans of getting white-girl wasted. Your pleistocene science is the only thing standing between me and my Friday night search for someone with loose morals, low inhibitions, and rock-hard abs. So yes, your 10 weeks of work are getting trashed. Ooh, there's the torch!\"\n\nI backed slowly out of the lab door, as humming, interspersed with blasts from the torch, began to emanate from her corner of the lab. \"I am never going to be able to explain this one to the ethics committee,\" I muttered under my breath." ]	3
This one is inspired by a TIL I came across today. I thought it would make one hell of a writing prompt.	[WP] There is a radio signal that has been broadcasting a repeating buzzing sound. One day you're listening and you hear: "Command 135 initiated"	[ "You are this cia agent listening to Russia broadcast radio over the years, for those years you just hear buzzing sound then one day you hear a \"Command 135 initiated\" then things become different people started acting weird, you call your friend and they weren't answering, as it turns out it was an activation command. To the people heard it they become aggressive starting killing each other, but to other people the code mean different, it meant they're mission has started.\n\nAs you were standing watching T.V you slowly lose control of your motor skills and you were unconsciously moving, you don't know where you were going nor what's happening as if someone had taken control of you. you try to fight back but it was no use. then suddenly you grab a gun and gone to president office.\nTo be continued. . . . ", "My car radio was fucked up. The power/volume button was stuck s it couldn't be turned off or turned down. Usually thins wouldn't be a problem, but my long commute to and from work had me wanting for a little quiet on my drive every now and then. In the day and age of almost every channel on the dial broadcasting some form of entertainment or other I thought that I lucked into a clear channel one day. \n\nInstead of pressing \"Search\" until I found something that was somewhat worthwhile to listen to, I found myself absentmindedly playing with the tuner dial. Initially I meant to try the volume/off button for the millionth time hoping for a new result, but in actuality I missed that dial and was messing with the wrong one. Slowly going from channel to channel I happenstanced unto an empty broadcasting channel.\n\nWell not quite empty. There was a solid and continuous buzzing noise. While not entirely annoying, it wasn't unpleasant either. I would liken it to the sound a honeybee's hive makes when they aren't aggrevated into an angry state and are content to go about their bee business. Just a continuous drone that I eventually found to be melodious. A never ending hum that allowed me to let my thoughts wander on the long Montana road surrounded by nothing but flat lands and no speed limit.\n\nNothing that is...until that one faithful day.\n\n30 minutes into my commute the buzzing suddenly stopped. At first I didn't notice as my mind had come to just ignore the white noise while I day dreamed of whatever fantasy currently occupied my time. Then the the silence hammered itself into my consciousness. At first I thought the radio randomly decided it was done working. Then there was a slight crackle. The noise you hear when someone takes you off mute on a phone call. That initial noise that clearly signifies \"the microphone is now active\". \n\nDouble checking that the radio indeed, was still on, I waited for the buzzing to return while straining to hear whether or not I could discern the origin of the radio station I found weeks ago. The only thing I heard was another crackle, and then a voice.\n\n\"COMMAND 135 INITIATED.\"\n\n---\n\nThat was the last thing I remember before coming to in this compound. I don't know where the weapons I'm currently loaded down with came from, nor why I'm surround by dead bodies laid around me that were clearly visited upon by hostile (and VERY angry and disturbing violence). \n\nI only know that a loud voice from outside this building has warned me that they would no longer be attempting negiotating with me due to my nonresponsiveness to all their attempts and that if I don't set my \"hostages\" free they would authorize lethal force.\n\nI only hope that whoever finds this note and testament know that whatever happened here I didn't do willingly or cognitively. And for all that is holy and sane, you should avoid tuning your FM radio station to........" ]	2
	[WP] You are sailing in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and discover something that should not be there.	[ "Harold and Patty had bought the sailboat from the Masons down the street. Harold drove by it every day on his way to and from work, buried under a tarp and plunked in the driveway like a pile of garbage. They lived nowhere near the water and Patty called it an eyesore, but Harold fantasized about painting it up and calling it the King Crab. He'd never been the type to lay back with the wind in his hair; in fact, he was more the type that was slightly neurotic and gone a bit soft from long hours at the office. But when Harold and Patty won a timeshare on the Gulf of Mexico in a radio contest, the first thing Harold did was knock on the Masons' door and ask if he could buy the boat. Patty had misgivings but she could see a new fire in Harold's eyes and in the end she obliged. Their collective sailing experience boiled down to a subscription to a magazine, so naturally the first time they took the boat into the Gulf, a huge gust of wind blew them far from land.\n\nHere our heroes are now: both swathed in sunscreen (a generous amount lathered onto Harold's bald spot) and clad in loud beachwear. Patty wore an obnoxious pink straw hat and Harold's flip flops made an increasingly infuriating SPLOCH SPLOCH sound every time he paced nervously across the boat. He was picking at his graying hair.\n\n\"You won't have any hair left if you keep doing that, Harold,\" Patty said shrilly, batting at her husband.\n\n\"We're not gonna have anything left if we die out here, hon.\" Harold retorted.\n\n\"We're not in any trouble,\" Patty protested, but her voice was too loud in her ears.\n\n\"Hon, we don't know the first thing about surviving out here!\" Harold plunked himself heavily into a lawn chair. \"We don't know how to fish...\"\n\n\"I've got some bread crumbs,\" Patty offered.\n\n\"...We can't call for help...\"\n\n\"I've got one bar!\" Patty shrieked, flying out of her seat. The boat lurched and her phone was suddenly history.\n\n\"...We don't even know which direction we're headed!\"\n\nPatty stuck her finger in her mouth and bossily pointed it into the sky. \"East,\" she said with confidence.\n\n\"Hon, I hate to say it but we're toast.\"\n\n\"Wait! Wait, Harold, what's that?\" The urgency with which Patty leaned over the side of the boat tipped it dangerously and Harold careened out of his seat.\n\n\"Get a load of that!\" Patty shouted, pointing into the water.\n\nHarold squinted through his sunglasses. \"I don't see anything, hon.\"\n\n\"There! Look, right there, look where I'm pointing!\"\n\n\"I'm looking where you're pointing-\"\n\n\"No, not there, look, follow my finger.\"\n\n\"No, I don't- oh! Oh!\"\n\nHarold yanked his sunglasses up to his bald spot, rubbed his eyes and looked again.\n\n\"I... I don't believe it,\" Harold stuttered. \"It's a... but it can't be.\"\n\n\"But it is, Harold.\"\n\nIt was a dog, dog paddling furiously toward them. \n\n\"C'mere, buddy. C'mere, come on up,\" Harold called. He whistled smartly and the dog paddled faster.\n\n\"Oh my Gawd,\" Patty drawled, \"Harold, it's-! It's Bo! It's our dog, Bo!\"\n\n\"Bo!\" Harold called. \"C'mere, Bo! C'mere, buddy!\"\n\nHarold leaned over the side of the boat when the dog was close enough and yanked him up by the scruff of the neck. The dog was a brown lab with white markings around his snout. He shook himself and water sprayed everywhere, but Harold and Patty didn't notice. They were just happy to see each other.\n\n\"Oh, Harold, it's Bo, I know it is!\" Patty said earnestly. \"But how can it be? Bo's...\"\n\nShe didn't finish her sentence. She didn't have to. Bo had been dead for 6 months.\n\n\"We must have drifted off to the Bermuda Triangle,\" Harold said. \"That must be it. We're in the Bermuda Triangle and Bo found us.\"\n\n\"Oh, Harold!\"\n\n\"OOOOYYYY!\" \n\nHarold and Patty shot their heads up and saw a big fishing boat gliding toward them that hadn't been there a moment before. A grizzled old sailor glared at them.\n\n\"Get your hands off my dog!\" the old man snapped.\n\nThat was when Harold and Patty realized they really did not belong on the ocean.", "It was partly by luck and partly by my KSA rating that I got a berth on the Georgian Glider...well, OK, my KSAs weren't that great, but the convoy was delayed some hours and this ship had a little space to spare. I didn't care if I had to live on the deck, the engine compartment, or anywhere in between. I was just thankful to leave the mainland to its horrors and the inhuman rulers that fashioned them.\n\nThe Hell War had been officially over for a year, but everyone knew there were still skirmishes, a hopeless human resistance against the invaders. They would all die to the last, because surrender would have meant submission to tortures of a creativity beyond human imagination. We had no chance against the invaders, but we wasted so much time trying to fight this idea. I tried my best to contribute as a reservist, but after my S.C.A. militia unit was routed and virtually wiped out, I deserted and hid for a few months, living off the land like we learned in the Society.\n\nThe monstrous Hadeans had the double advantage of both superior technology and eldritch magic to overwhelm our primitive defense. Not even our ace in the hole, the benevolent Nephilim who come to our aid in secret and who waited far too long to confront our common foe openly, was enough to stem the tide. We trusted them and they let us down. We gave them so much of our manpower and raw materials to build their dream-weapons, all the Black Pyramids built worldwide which were supposed to elevate mankind to a magic-using race like themselves. But once the Nephilim failed to prevent the Hadeans from sabotaging the Pyramids, the Pyramids themselves started wreaking havoc with our climate, our oceans, our weather, the coastlines, everything.\n\nFor the most part, I think the Nefs are all gone now. I think the last time I saw a living Nephilim that wasn't in captivity or collaborating with the enemy, it was with a mixed unit of B.S.A. and what must have been some LARPers on a patrol. As hungry and tired as I was, I thought about coming out of the cold, but fear and cowardice prevailed.\n\nIt was probably a good thing, too. About a month after that came the final full assault, the largest army of Hadean shock troopers we had seen yet. I traded for a smartphone from some guy in northern Florida. Its former owner had been able to capture live footage of the first wave of infantry striding ashore from their landers submerged off the coast. It was a surreal scene--until the shooting started. This video will prove valuable one day, I thought. I had to preserve it for the generation that would finally free itself from these alien tyrants.\n\nBut here I was, on the Georgian Glider, a deserter, coward, a refugee, and now another casualty of the war I'd been trying so hard to get away from. The hurricane that had lately blasted into our little fleet of ships had taken half of it down to the Davy Jones' locker, and left the other half in disarray, including the Glider. In the storm our illustrious but inexperienced captain had strayed too far from the rest of the convoy and now they were somewhere below the horizon, scattered like sheep without a shepherd.\n\nThe captain conferred with his crew, and told the rest of us that we had better set out for our destination, and hopefully reach sight of the rest of the convoy in the meantime. There was not much food but the Glider was a fast ship, and both water purifiers were still functional. We still had a chance if we forget trying to find anyone else, and head straight way for Bermuda like we'd all originally planned. We'd heard Cuba and the Bahamas fell even before the East Coast, but listening to shortwave we'd understood the enemy had little interest in such a little island. We prayed that the climate changes had not sent the little island to its doom; the last few months we had begun to notice sea levels actually dropping instead of rising. We felt this was a good omen, providing more living space and possibly arable land to support Bermuda's newest illegal immigrants.\n\nAnd so we went. However, most of our convoy's stockpile of munitions were on the other ships, there was concern we wouldn't be able to win our Bermudan citizenship at gunpoint...but as the first mate said, we have to trust that the rest of our fleet will arrive ahead of us and pave the way for our own immigration.\n\nOnly we arrived rather sooner than we expected. No one expected landfall today, tomorrow, or even a day or two from now. But here was land, as far as the the eye could see in either direction. It was barren, muddy land, void of any living thing other than exotic flora we would have expected to find on the seabed. We came across dead fishes, beached whales, sharks, and other water-breathing life. And we found...other things, all of them dead.\n\nSo we subsisted on the beached sea life, conserving the on-board rations, until the free food spoiled. We explored for days inland and along the coast, and found no one. The navigator swore on the lives and graves of all his close relatives that according to all of his chats, we have just learned how to walk on water in the middle of the Atlantic. Nevertheless, this was not Bermuda. This was reality. It was what it was. Someone joked that we finally found Atlantis and it's been missing all this time. The name stuck.\n\nThat was three months ago. I couldn't tell you exactly when it happened, but at some point along the way, we stopped being refugees, and became colonists. Strange how nobody really noticed.\n\nToday I saw another ship, and it must have seen our old ship adrift in the harbor someone thoughtfully named Plato Bay, because it turned and has begun its approach. I hope there are women who will help add to our little kingdom of Lyonesse. These old salty sea dogs just aren't my type.\n", "Dave stared deep into the sea, his face inches away from the tantalizing blue beneath him.\n\n“If I'm going to die,\" he said. \"I'm going to die with my thirst quenched!”\n\nI lifted my head up off the side of the dingy and looked at him. “Don't be an idiot. You drink saltwater and you'll die even sooner. Everyone knows that.”\n\nWe'd been adrift in this tiny boat for six days now. The storm that had capsized our yacht had since disappeared into the horizon. Now the sun beat cheerfully, endlessly down upon us, as if to say, “What's wrong with you two? Can't you see that it's a beautiful day!”\n\nOur water rations lasted through yesterday morning. We spoke to each other through sandpaper mouths, our outlooks growing exponentially pessimistic. Other than the birds and the occasional whale surfacing, there had been no signs of life. No hint of land or passing ship. The tiny motor in the dingy had gone out, and we'd lost one of the oars when we capsized. Not that either of us felt strong enough to row anyway.\n\nWe were doomed.\n\nDave said, “I just need to feel the water in my throat. I don't care what it does to me. Mind over matter. I'll just… I'll just pretend that it's fresh water.”\n\nI snapped at him: “Yeah, and I can just pretend that you're a beautiful topless lady, but that isn't going to change the facts.”\n\nI cringed as soon as the words came out of my mouth. Surely I could have used a less cruel tone, couldn't I? After all, this was a man struggling with the last desperate moments of his life.\n\nBut Dave did not even seem to hear me. He leaned further over the edge of the boat, his arms dipping into the water. He seemed mesmerized by it.\n\n“It's fresh water,” Dave said. “It's all fresh water, as far as the eye can see.”\n\n“Dave no!” \n\nI moved to stop him but it was too late. Dave plunged his head below the surface of the Atlantic and gulped it in. Huge, racking swallows. I grabbed him by the tattered shirt and hauled him back into the boat. His eyes grew as big as the sun above.\n\n“It's delicious!” he shouted. “It's goddamn delicious!”\n\nI slapped him across the face, harder than I needed to. “You idiot! Are you trying to kill yourself! That stuff is as good as poison!”\n\nHe shook his head, water flying off his hair like a dog. “No! No it isn't! The water, it's fresh! I don't know how, but it's fresh water! Go see for yourself. It's a miracle!”\n\nI stared at him for a long while. Eventually I let him go. He scrambled away from me and lunged right back over the edge of the boat. I did not try to stop him this time. If he wanted to fill himself with enough salt to make a TV dinner jealous then so be it. I would have to watch him die sooner or later.\n\nBut instead of the hacking and coughing I expected, Dave drank and laughed and drank and laughed. In some way I found myself becoming jealous of him. My throat itched and chafed. Would it be so bad after all, to die with the kind of refreshing bliss that Dave was experiencing?\n\nI dipped my hand over the side of the boat and cupped a small handful of the water. Luckily Dave's back was to me so he would not witness my moment of hypocritical weakness. I put the water to my lips and drank.\n\nMy God. It was fresh. But how could that be possible? I scooped out another handful. There was no denying it. This was not the abrasive salt water of the ocean. This was fresh water, pure as spring snow melt.\n\n\"Dave!\" I shouted. “It's fresh! The water is fresh!”\n\nHe yelped with joy and turned to me. We embraced each other in sheer, unbridled joy. By whatever strange twist of fate we were saved, at least for the time being.\n\nI said, “Well, I have no idea how this makes any sense, but at least we have water now.”\n\nOur stomachs grumbled almost in unison. Dave kicked at the half roll of saltines at our feet. “Yeah, well I'm actually hungry now too. If only we had some more crackers.”\n\nHe turned off to scan the horizon. I found my attention drawn by something far more immediate.\n\n“Dave,” I said.\n\nHe said, “Yeah, no sign of land or anything yet. Who knows how much longer we'll be stuck out here.”\n\n“Dave, look.”\n\nHe turned around and his jaw dropped.\n\nHalf the boat was full of crackers.\n\n“How… how the hell?”\n\nI looked at Dave. Suddenly, only one thing made sense.\n\n“Dave. You did this.”\n\n“I what?”\n\n“You caused this to happen. You said the water was fresh, and then it became fresh. You said you wanted more crackers, then there were more crackers.”\n\nHe stared at me. “But… that isn't possible. How could I do that?”\n\nThe more I thought about it the more it made sense. Dave was always the kind of guy who got what he wanted. He said he wanted to get into Harvard, so he did it. He said he wanted a yacht, so he got one. What if, all this time, he was actually able to influence the world around him?\n\n“Well,” Dave said, crossing his arms. “If that's the case then I want some goddamn shade! This sun is killing me!”\n\nNo sooner than the words had left his mouth did the dingy start changing. The wooden sides grew like they were trees again, forming into columns around us that shot a dozen feet into the sky. Between them a great cloth wove itself from nothing. Soon, we sat below our very own four poster canopy covering.\n\nDave whooped and hollered and danced around the boat. I sank back into the floor. I regarded him with a sort of dread now, not knowing the powers of which he was capable. How far reaching were his commands? Could he create anything? Could he kill a man simply by willing it? And what of his first “wish”? Was the entire Atlantic ocean now fresh water? What would that do to the ecosystem?\n\nAs if to answer my question, a huge whale popped to the surface some twenty yards from us and blew a jet of water into the air. It also looked thoroughly confused about the situation.\n\nBut the big questions seemed to elude Dave. He swung his arms out wide and cackled like a maniac. “Oh, this is wonderful! We can have anything we want out here!” He looked at me. “What about what some decent food, huh?” He held his arms out and shouted to the sky, “I want a piping hot, delicious rack of ribs!”\n\nI noticed it immediately. The whale nearby let out a deep groan and then began to change. Its entire mass shifted, contorting and squeezing into something else entirely. Bone and skin and tail evolved, rapid fire, right before our eyes.\n\nThen, where the whale used to be, sat a gigantic rack of ribs, floating on an over-sized wooden platter. The meat sizzled against the spray of surf. It drifted toward us.\n\nDave dug in right away, ripping apart meat and cackling like mad. I couldn't bring myself to join in. I felt sick. No man should have the kind of power that Dave flaunted. To be able to change the world around him with merely a thought. There were so many ways this could go wrong.\n\nDave stood up and surveyed his surroundings. This was his domain now, and he could have whatever he wanted.\n\n“Well,” he said. “It's too bad we don't have one of those beautiful topless women you mentioned around, huh?”\n\n“Dave, no!” I shouted, but it was too late.\n\nHis eyes widened as he realized what he had done. I don't think he did it on purpose, but his will was done nonetheless.\n\nI felt myself changing. Shrinking, morphing. My insides rearranged completely and I doubled over in agony. My features softened. My hair grew. My hands and feet turned dainty. Parts of me grew out and other parts, well… shrank. Eventually it was all over. I was changed. I sat up and looked at him. Felt the wind blow against my exposed chest.\n\nI put my hands on my supple hips. “You're going to to fix this, right?”\n\nHe stared at me for a long time, unblinking. He looked hungrier than he had before the crackers.\n\n“Dave!” I shouted.\n\nHe shook his head, coming out of his reverie. “Yeah, yeah, of course I'll fix it. I mean, uh, why don't we eat something first, then we'll, uh, work that out. Are you hungry? I'm starving.”\n\nI just stared at him.\n\nFrom out of nowhere he produced two glasses and a bottle of red wine.\n\n“Thirsty?” he asked." ]	3
	[WP] A professional hitman is training an apprentice who recently failed at his one true passion, being a stand up comedian.	[ "\"Okay, watch,\" said the hitman as he steadied his rifle and put the target in the center.\n\n\"Looks like you got him! Go for it!\" Greg said. The excitement in his voice was palpable. Here finally is a job he could do, and no one could heckle him off the stage.\n\n\"Not yet,\" was all the hitman whispered without even glancing at the former comedian.\n\n\"Now?\"\n\n\"Not yet\"\n\nA few moments pass. BANG\n\n\"Boom, headshot!\" shouted the hitman. The comedian was befuddled. \n\n\"I don't get how this helps me.\"\n\n\"It's all about the timing,\" said the hitman lighting a cigarette.", "Carl took his jacket off. It was a faux leather jacket, the kind you might find at a teen neopunk outfitters for $70. Still, the black material absorbed sunlight to create a convection oven inside. He slung it over his arm, and glanced over his shoulder.\n\nThere was still no one behind him. He looked back to the man in front of him, the man they called Viper.\n\nViper was not an imposing man. Average height, medium build, wearing dark pants, dark boots, and a plaid button down shirt. He seemed like any other contract manager in the industrial part of downtown Portland. Late July was proving to be the hottest month on record, and Carl shifted his weight, ready to be inside. The large garage was not air conditioned, but at least it would provide shade.\n\nViper turned as the lock slid opened, and he pushed the heavy metal door to the side. Walking it almost the length of the building, the open door let out a gust of air from inside the garage. The smell of mothballs and dust hit Carl in the face. He was uncomfortable.\n\n\"Ready?\" Viper looked at Carl unassuming, then turned and walked into the garage.\n\n\"Does a bear shit in the... does the poke shit in the woods? Bear?\" Carl couldn't remember how it ended. He tried making Viper smile. He hadn't seen Viper show any emotion. Challenge accepted. \n\nViper made no signs that he had even heard Carl, let alone cared. Carl shook his head and moved inside, standing next to Viper.\n\nAs his eyes adjusted to he low light, Carl looked around. Guns of every size and caliber were hung on the walls. Boxes filled with rocket launchers lay stacked, some open, against the wall. A bare bulb swung slowly over head, it's response to Viper turning it on.\n\nViper handed him a rifle and two ammunition clips. \"Here\", he said bruskly. \"Load up.\" \n\nCarl giggled, sensing an opening. \"Load up, what is this the family van... the Griswold family vacation to... to... the um... \" Carl let it go. \n\nViper paused, but didn't look at him. He continued moving boxes, looking for supplies. He grabbed a rifle and locked the clip into place. He looked at Carl, nodding toward the clip still in Carl's hand.\n\n\"Slide it in.\" Viper said. He turned and began looking through boxes.\n\nCarl grinned again. \"No one's said that to me since I divorced my whore wife after she cheated on me with my co worker and my boss, and the neighbor. Am I right?\"\n\nViper stopped. Carl sensed the tension and loaded the gun. Viper moved to the opposite side of the room, and uncovered a large board with pictures on it. The pictures were all of famous political activists throughout the world.\n\nCarl moved closer, and looked at the board. \"Which one are we going after?\" he asked.\n\nViper replied as he placed weapons on the table. \"All of them,\" he said. \"That's the nature of the business. We'll be out on assignment for most of the year.\"\n\n\"Most of the year?\" Carl turned and looked at Viper. \"How long exactly?\"\n\nViper looked at Carl. The seriousness on his face made Carl's blood go cold.\n\n\"In months, weeks, or days?\" Viper asked.\n\nCarl drew a quick breath. \"Days\" he replied.\n\nViper slowly walked toward him, gun in hand. Carl had never been so scared in all his life. Viper stopped right in front of him, and leaned in. Any closer and he would have head butted Carl. Viper locked eyes with Carl.\n\n\"Tree-fiddy.\" Viper said. \"And that's how you tell a joke.\"\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] Tell us about how you encountered a lovecraftian horror at work today	[ "Something history doesn't tell you: Sneezing in just the right way opens a portal to hell. \n\nJust takes a little pepper, a cesear salad, and that little gasping moment of excitement when your wife tell you she's pregnant over dinner. \n\nI feel like that needs a little more story to it. Okay, so, it was dinner, obviously. 6:33, on a Thursday. my wife, Danella, told me she was pregnant. Naturally, I was excited. So excited that I lost control of my hands. \n\nWhen she was finally dead, I had my salad. We have this ornate pepper grinder that gets us a lot of compliments at parties. There's nothing special about it, but a little pepper got away from me, and I just \"Fus Roh Dah'd\" my salad all over the damn place. \n\nI went to grab a rag to clean everything up, and to make another salad, everything was gone. No salad, no wife, nothing. At least not on the floor. \n\nOn the table, sat the salad I had just spilled. Upstairs, I heard footsteps. The clock read only 6:33. ", "\"Fuck you, asshole! I've told you people 30 goddam times! Quit calling me!\" \n\nAn angry growl escaped my mouth I clicked the button to hang up. I couldn't take it anymore. The endless droning of the phone ringing on the other end of the line, the sound of answering machines burned into my mind, the abuse from the people who just didn't understand that I, much like them, am a human being with real emotions. No paycheck is worth being yelled at 40 hours a week. I knew I was going to quit, but I didn't know when. Immediately, a thought came to my mind and a devilish grin spread across my face. \n\nI would let my bosses decide when I quit. Every few days, some of your calls would be monitored by a manager, who would then go over it with you, telling you what you did wrong, what to improve on, blah blah blah. The plan was simple: Wait until one of my bosses listens in on me berating one of those bastards that signed up for this hell and now regretted it. They knew the risks when they took that magazine subscription, we explicitly tell them that they would receive calls about similar magazines. Why should I be yelled at? I felt a rush once I started to enact my plan. I felt like Tyler Durden, not wanting to watch the world burn, but wanting the light the match that started the fire. With all of the rage and angst that my young male body could muster, I put my headset on and told the computer to dial the next number. \n\nRing ring ring. Ring ring ring. Ring ring ring. I usually just let them keep going so I don't have to deal with people for a few seconds more than I have to. Ring ring ring. But this was different. It wasn't the same sound that I was used to hearing, something was off. Ring ring ring. The sucker on the other end of the line probably had an old phone, that changes the sound sometimes. When a phone keeps ring ring ringing, the computer is supposed to automatically hang up. Guess the software decided it wanted to stop working today too. Ring ring ring. Well that makes my day a hell of a lot easier. I took off my headset and called my supervisor. \n\nRing ring ring. I made the motions to take off my headset only to find that it was on the desk. Ring ring ring Alright, what idiot unplugged their headset? I stood up and looked around ring ring ring to see who had done it, but nobody else seemed to notice the sound. I sat back down and glared at the screen, and this godforsaken program designed to pester people from noon until 9, five days a week. Ring ring ring. Where the hell was my supervisor? I turned around and saw him frozen in the aisle, looking like a mannequin at Old Navy, with his ring ring ring stupid fucking sweater vest and his stupid fucking khakis. Asshole, just get over here, quit trying to be a goddam \"morale boost\" and ring ring ring get me out of this hell. Then I saw his face and the ringing stopped.\n\nA look of pure disgust had come over it. It was the only part of him that could still move. Soon the disgust turned to fear, and fear to terror. I turned to see what he was looking at and understood why the ringing stopped. Or rather, the room turned, allowing me to see the creature before me. If it was a creature. It seemed like it was just a mouth, with row upon row of jagged yellow teeth, each pointing a different direction. Like something out of another world, its awesome presence alone was enough to make most beings paralyzed with pure terror. It opened its gaping maw, and with it came a horrid screech, unheard on this plane of existence for thousands of aeons. I looked and saw the force destroy everything around me, peeling back layer upon layer, until nothing remained. Now we were in empty space, in the infinite dark, this awesome beast and I. It unleashed another roar, in an attempt to destroy me, the last mortal in the tri-state area. But it couldn't. \"Hurry up dickhead, either kill me or let me go find a new job already.\" I yelled back. It stopped for a moment, as if it were thinking about who was I to dare oppose it. Then the mouth opened, but no sound came out. A tongue emerged and moved towards me. I swatted it away, but it wrapped around me and I was restrained. \n\nThe mouth then opened farther to reveal the secrets hidden inside, secrets that I alone know. Secrets that should never be spoken of again. I was bestowed with these secrets because I had already heard the sounds that can destroy a living thing. The hell that was this call center had killed me, but the beast brought me back to life. Soon the room re-materialized around me, and my supervisor walked up, slapped me on the back, and in a flash of arrogance asked me \"Problems, kiddo?\" I stood up, punched him in the face and walked out. \n\n", "\"He was about thirty-feet tall with tentacles on his face and this big, green bulbous belly,\" Jonathon said into the phone, idly twisting the cord around a finger. \n\n\"Oh, really?\" came the voice of his editor, Caroline, at the tabloid's main and only office. \"Did he drive people mad with his presence, and devour people's souls, too, Jon?\" The boredom in her voice was very real.\n\n\"He just devoured people, period,\" Jonathon said. \"Souls came included in the meal, of course, so, technically, yes.\"\n\n\"Uh-huh,\" Caroline said. \"If you saw this supposed creature from some other dimension or somewhere, why aren't you insane, too?\"\n\n\"Am I not, dear editor? Am I really not?\"\n\nCaroline sighed. \"Why did I ask?\"\n\n\"Because I have the most interesting stories to tell you, for the black-and-white back sections.\"\n\n\"Uh-huh.\" Caroline could be heard scribbling. \"So, it was big, squiggly, green, drove people mad--except you, because you're crazy enough to dream up this kind of stuff--and it ate people.\" A period could be heard tapped onto paper. \"Anything else?\"\n\n\"Yes, actually.\" Jonathon kicked his feet up on his ratty old, spring-bare couch. \"There was a Catholic priest.\"\n\n\"God...\"\n\n\"Yes! Exactly!\"\n\n\"No, Jon,\" she said. \"I mean, God help me, why did I inherit this job from Mike, and you.\"\n\n\"It's the funny and bizarre section of the paper, dear Caroline,\" Jonathon reminded her. \"It is a section of the Inquirer reserved for equal parts funny and/or bizarre.\"\n\n\"Right.\" She tapped on paper again. \"Okay, so, we're not walking into a bar here, are we?\"\n\n\"No.\" Jonathon said. \"That was Sunday.\"\n\n\"Righttt.\"\n\n\"You know that rundown church on the edge of the city, east side?\" Jonathon asked.\n\n\"That was Tuesday, Jon. You ran that story Tuesday.\"\n\n\"Ah, yeah, well, it's a popular hangout for paranormal.\"\n\n\"Uh-huh...\"\n\n\"Okay, see, this is what happened,\" Jonathon explained. \"This Satanist summoned this eldritch abomination named K'ylar.\"\n\n\"You're just making this up as you go along,\" Caroline said.\n\n\"Well,\" Jonathon ignored her. \"K'ylar wasn't happy. The Satanist had used farm-grown goats for sacrifice, instead of ones from the wild.\"\n\n\"Hold on,\" Caroline stopped him. \"This is on holy ground?\"\n\n\"An eldritch abomination is not a demon or evil spirit, Caroline,\" Jonathon replied. \"Totally different beings. Try to keep up, my dear editor.\"\n\n\"Righttt. So, okay, FDA-approved goats are bad, and What's-His-Face--\"\n\n\"K'ylar.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Caroline picked back up again. \"He wasn't happy about this. And then what? Was there a devouring?\"\n\n\"Well, K'ylar tried,\" Jonathon continued. \"But the Catholic priest stepped in.\"\n\n\"Was he tending the church the whole time?\" Caroline asked. \"Like some kind of, I dunno, forsaken custodian?\"\n\n\"Hey, you're getting a hang of how this sometimes goes.\"\n\n\"Joy.\"\n\n\"Anyways,\" Jonathon picked up again. \"The Catholic priest went to save his son.\"\n\n\"The Satanist?\"\n\n\"Hey, you--\"\n\n\"Deadline, Jon.\"\n\n\"Okay, okay,\" Jonathon said. \"This Catholic priest had this old hand-me down relic.\"\n\n\"'Old' and 'relic' are redundant, Jon.\"\n\n\"And that's why you're the editor,\" Jonathon reminded her. \"For about the millionth time, I say, 'anyways', and then the Catholic priest confronts K'ylar--remember him?--with the relic--\"\n\n\"'In the Light of God, I cast thee out'?\"\n\n\"Yeah, well,\" Jonathon admitted. \"Yeah, but that's kinda boring. We need to spice it up a bit. Do a little artistic licensing.\"\n\n\"No, Jon,\" Caroline sighed. \"I think it's good as is.\"\n\n\"So, quota?\"\n\n\"I'll write it up.\"\n\n\"You are a dear, Caroline.\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" Caroline said. \"Don't mention it. No, please. Don't mention it, please.\"\n\n\"Sure,\" Jonathon said, and hung up.\n\nHis girlfriend, Zoe, looked up from her black book, raising a questioning brow.\n\n\"And that was before lunch,\" Jonathon told her. \"I met the vamps down at Butcher Realty for lunch.\"\n\n\"You didn't drink the red wine, did you?\" Zoe asked.\n\n\"Ah-hah,\" he replied. \"Yeah, that's the oldest vamp trick in the book. No.\" He stretched out on the couch. \"What's for dinner?\"\n\n\"I thought you were getting dinner?\"\n\n\"Hello? Tabloid reporter by day, supernatural mediator by night? Busy.\"\n\nZoe rolled her eyes, sighing, \"Fine. I'll go to the black market.\" She got up off their bed. \"Don't want you going out at night. How many nocturnal predators did you piss off this week?\"\n\n\"Five,\" Jonathon answered. \"Actually, only two swore to bite my head off and devour my entrails.\" He waved it off. \"I get that all the time.\" He smiled up at his girlfriend. \"No shrooms, please. I remember last time...\"\n\nZoe shook her head. \"You're something else, Jon.\"\n\n\"And that's why you love me.\"\n\nZoe sighed, pulled on her heavy coat, and stepped out into the perpetual wintered streets of Haven.", "\"Welcome to McDonald's. What can I get for you?\" I recited with the enthusiasm of someone being told they have incurable cancer. \n\nThe voice that seeped through the outside speaker and into my brain-choking headset was one of senescence and confusion, \"Yeah, I'd like to get me one-a them poh-tae-toe cakes and a senior coffee.\"\n\n\"Do you mean a hash brown?\" \n\n\"Young lady, I want one poh-tae-toe cake and a senior coffee. That's all.\"\n\nI exhaled with frustration for probably an entire minute after storing the order. A potato cake? Does this shriveled cretin actually believe any of our products contain honest-to-god potatoes? \n\nI observed the window where the food would be handed out, eagerly awaiting the old man's brush with disillusionment. \n\nWhen his dilapidated pickup truck finally landed, the raisin of a person I had anticipated made eye contact with me that I had not anticipated. His hunched figure and gangling arms clutching the wheel like a defensive praying mantis complemented the intended glare of abhorrence he was directing my way. I smiled in an attempt to wordlessly assure him that his potato cake was real and on the way. \n\nFinally, my coworker leaned out the window to deliver his order, \"One hash brown and a senior coffee! Have a nice day!\"\n\nWhat I saw next was the rapid disappearance of my personable coworker, a slip-resistant, size 7 shoe being the only remaining artifact signifying that she had existed there. \n\nI hurriedly directed my attention back to the old man who was taking a sip of his morning caffeine with the nonchalance of a psychopath who had just literally consumed a McDonald's employee, \"I didn't order no goddamn hash brown.\" \n\n\n", "With a kick in my step and a smile broad across my face I strolled down the hallway. With a wink I said hi to the receptionist.\n\n\"Morning Kelly!\"\n\n\"Morning Ryan\" she beamed back\n\nI kept walking and ran into my coworker James.\n\n\"James! Wonderful day we're having isn't it?\"\n\n\"I guess it is! Great to see you Ryan!\" He replied, a smile breaking across his face. I nodded and worked my way to the break room to grab some coffee. Did I have a reason to be so happy? Well a more important question to ask did I need one? The weather was gorgeous, the week had been good, and, well, I was alive! Didn't need any more reason than that.\n\nUpon reaching the coffee pot, I began pouring a cup for myself when something caught the corner of my eye. I turned my head to get a better look, and noticed something rather odd. Instead of the break room, I was... elsewhere. The void stretched on for eternity. Dark, limitless, and empty, save for one thing. My previously good mood evaporated immediately. Hopelessness, despair, and fear; horrible, debilitating and paralyzing fear gripped my heart like a snake, which tightened it's coils and killed whatever was left inside. I was a husk. The... thing, the disgusting, horrifying and writhing... thing had complete control. It was unimaginably huge, beyond the comprehension of man. It's countless tentacles slipped and twisted around each other, and it's eyes... I dared not look into them because I knew there was no escape. It's voice echoed around me. Deep, horrible and commanding. I could not understand it's language, but I understood it's intention. Slowly, against my will, my eyes began to raise themselves to its. I tried to fight, but resistance was futile. Inevitably, it would possess me. There was no escape. \n\n\"Ryan?\" a woman's voice called me back to reality. I turned and saw Kelly in the doorway. \"Are you okay?\"\n\nI was back in the breakroom, back at work, and away from that... thing. I surveyed the room for a second, and tried to let my mind settle. But, what I saw, what I felt, what I experienced... there was no settling from that.\n\n\"No\" I told her curtly, and I left for my desk.", "\"Hey, honey,\" my wife said without looking up from her book. \"How was work?\"\n\nI dragged my feet across the room and collapsed in my chair. \"Miserable. You remember Ted got a new job a few weeks back? His replacement had its first day today.\"\n\nShe smiled. \"'It'? You must really not be fond of them.\"\n\n\"That's what it is!\" I said. \"It's an 'it!' I kept stealing glances all day trying to figure out whether it was a guy or a girl.\"\n\n\"Well, what's their name?\"\n\nI sighed. \"I dunno, I can't even pronounce it. It starts with a 'c' and after that it's just a jumble of letters. Is it a man's name or a woman's name? I don't even think it is a name!\"\n\nMegan rolled her eyes. \"So they're one of those non-gender-binary people. Is that so terrible?\"\n\n\"It's not that, it's...\" I tried to figure out a way to phrase my irritation without sounding like an asshole. \"They reek. Like, really bad.\"\n\n\"Rude!\" She stifled a laugh.\n\n\"I'm serious! So this... new Ted in the cubicle next door peeks over, introduces itself-\"\n\n\"-themselves\"\n\n\"Whatever. And there's this horrible, horrible stench. You remember when we went to that sushi place on your birthday? You remember how the alleyway outside smelled? Like that, but worse. Way worse.\"\n\n\"Is that really all?\" Megan asked. \"They smell bad?\"\n\nI shook my head. \"Not even close. So they say hi, I turn around to see them, and...\" I hesitated, trying to find the words to describe my new co-worker's appearance. \"They're ugly. Like, really ugly. Like, absolutely, god-awful ugly. I mean, I knew we were trying to diversify, you know, hire new species and whatnot? But I don't even know what this thing was.\"\n\nMegan just laughed harder. \"You don't even know what species your co-worker is?\"\n\n\"They're like something out of a horror movie! Swear to god, if they weren't wearing a dress shirt and a tie and a little nametag, I probably would have thought...\" I trailed off, then snapped my fingers.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"I remember their name,\" I said triumphantly. \"It was Christopher.\"\n\nMegan blew out a buff of air from her snout. \"Wow, that is a ridiculous name.\"\n\n\"I know!\" I said. \"What were their parents thinking? Couldn't they have a normal name, like...\"\n\n\"Like Cthulhu?\"\n\n\"Exactly!\" I pointed a tentacle at myself. \"Like Cthulhu.\"\n\n((Not exactly answering the prompt, but it went a direction I wasn't expecting))" ]	6
	[WP] In 2019, massive unrest sweeps across America. Its 2038, you're a history teacher...tasked with teaching the 2nd American Civil War.	[ "\"Alright class, quiet down.\"\n\nMr. Davis stands in the middle of the room, wearing Roman armour for one of his other classes. Kids finish their gossip and make their ways to open seats. Mr. Davis pulls a Trivial Pursuit card out of the card holder.\n\n\"Oh, how fitting,\" he mutters. \"Who was the President of the United States in the first American Civil War?\"\n\nKids turn to each other, asking questions. Three kids joke around in the back far corner. Mr. Davis smiles.\n\n\"Mr. Génie. Do you have an answer?\"\n\nOne of the kids in the back corner turns to look at the teacher.\n\n\"Abraham Lincoln.\"\n\n\"Correct.\" Mr. Davis put the card back into the cardholder. \"But can you tell me his Vice President?\"\n\n\"Andrew Johnson.\"\n\nMr. Davis wasn't surprised. It seemed that Gary Génie was able to answer any historical question, and any one he didn't know, Angelo Stephens, the kid behind him could.\n\n\"Right again. Now, if you remember yesterday, we talked about...\"\n\nThe girl next to Gary turned to look at him. \"How is it that you these things about history?\"\n\nGary shrugged. \"It just interests me.\"\n\n\"And so President Obama...\" Mr. Davis gestured for the class to respond. \"Come on guys, we went over it yesterday.\" He looked around.\n\n\"He addressed the issue and said what? Come on. He said that the looters were misunderstood and they were crying out for help. What was the problem with this statement?\"\n\n\"It made people think they could do whatever they wanted.\" It was the kid to the right of Gary who spoke now.\n\n\"Exactly Mr. Wiggins. People thought, 'hey, the President is on justifying it. Why should I stop?\" Mr. Davis pulls up a video on the board. \"Watch this clip. This is some footage of the riots in Chicago.\n\nPeople with baseball bats hit police cars, threw rocks into windows, lit bottles on fire and threw them at police officers.\n\n\"Do these people look 'misunderstood' to you?\" The class remained silent. \"Do they?\"\n\nMr. Davis walks over to a cabinet, unlocks it, and opens it. He reaches in and grabs a police riot shield. \"This,\" he gestures to the shield, \"became standard issue to all officers. Doesn't that just seem messed up? The police had to defend themselves from the people they were supposed to defend. Eventually, the Chicago riots die off and the 2016 presidential elections arrive. It was an election with a ridiculous amount of candidates. Ted Cruz was elected. In 2017 he took office. The poor man didn't deserve what he had coming.\"\n\nMr. Davis walks over to his cabinet and puts the riot shield back. \"In November of 2018, New York rioted. But this wasn't a normal protest. People of a political party called 'The American People's Party,'\" he paused to write it on the board for everyone to read. \"These people stormed the New York City city hall. They were armed. They butchered the police inside as well as any government employees. They pretty much took over. President Cruz was going to send troops in, but the people of the APP claimed they had a nuclear weapon. The claim was completely ridiculous, but he couldn't risk it. That was his biggest mistake. The media hounded him. They asked him how he could let people in his own nation live under dictators, how he could sleep at night.\"\n\nMr. Davis looks up at the clock. \"Oh shoot, we have shortened day today, don't we? Alright, remember, homework on the website. See you all tomorrow! \n- - - \nLiked this? Let me know and drop by my originally named subreddit, /r/TheDynastyProject. I may do a part two of this, so stay tuned! :)", "Jesus. This textbook has it wrong. Way to sugar-coat the truth assholes I thought.\n\n\"All right students: turn to page 262, The American Disagreement.\"\n\nDisagreement, it was a fucking bloodbath.\n\n\"Tommy, why don't you read the first paragraph aloud, popcorn style\"\n\n\"Ok, sir... clears throat the Amerrrr\"\n\n\"American.\"\n\n\"Yeah! The American Diss-Aaaa-grree...\"\n\n\"Disagreement,\" I correct again holy fuck, these kids are in high school, what happened to us?!\n\n\"You know what Tommy, you did a fantastic job. I'm going to put you in for an award!\"\n\nThe class almost unanimously begins to sob, stomp feet, and complain.\n\n\"Don't worry!!!! All of your names will be on it!!!\"\n\nSilence\n\ngod, if I could just hit ONE of these kids...\n\n\"Ok, so I'll just summarize. Civil War II...\"\n\nA female voice interrupts, fucking Suzy again* \"Sir! You mean the American Disagreement right? Will this be on the test?\"\n\nAHHHHH\n\n\"Yes. You're right, and yes. Ok. Moving on. It started with ratings, but then, almost everything does now. Propaganda, the kind that Adolf Hitler and Kim Jun Ill perfected over decades. The American media developed and purified it into something unimaginable. On one side, vaccinations. On the other, no vaccinations. Bio-warfare in the cities began without us even realizing it...\"\n\nRING RING \n\nchrist on a stick, already? These 20 minute classes to cater to ADD just aren't cutting it.\n\nThe students stand and shuffle out.\n\n", "\"Hey, Jordan, could I pick your brain a bit?\"\n\n\"Sure Kat, what's up?\"\n\n\"Well, I'm starting to teach Chapter Two...\"\n\n\"Ooh, the war. Dicey.\"\n\n\"Yeah, it is, but that's not my problem at the moment. I'm just not sure where to start. It only happened twenty years ago, the kids will know so much already. I just don't want to bore them.\"\n\n\"I dunno, I'm always surprised at what my kids don't know. Did I tell you about the girl in Earth Science who thought the earth was shaped like a disco ball?\"\n\n\"But, I mean, a lot of their parents must have...\"\n\n\"If you're worried, squish the lectures a bit and make some activities to test their knowledge in the first class period.\"\n\n\"Yeah... we sort of rushed through Chapter 1 so I do have some breathing room. Thanks!\"\n\n\"Sure thing. Tell me how it goes!\"\n\n**************\n\nChattanooga United School District\n\nUS History Grade 8 Class 3\n\nInstructor: Katniss Schlegel\n\n***************\n\nLesson Plan 1 and Follow-up Notes\n\nSubmitted 20:39:24 Mon 8th November 2038\n\nVice Principal's Notes submitted 21:52:15 Mon 8th November 2038\n\nClass time: 40 minutes\n\nTopic: Prelude to 2nd Civil War\n\nWarm-up (5 min): Ask names of major 2nd Civil War figures students have heard of, their positions and significance\n\nMaterials: none\n\nResult: As expected, students were able to name final POTUS, 2nd VP, and 2nd VP's assassin. Several students knew of Insurrectionist twitter handles, but only one real name. Jeremy Feng able to name several Insurrectionist, Militarist, and Loyalist military leaders but was in most cases hazy on their significance or which side they were on.\n\nVice Principal's notes: None\n\nActivity 1 (20 min): Split students into pairs. One will read a Leftist article on the 2016 election, one a Rightist article. Have the students work together to answer the questions:\n\n1. What did the Left and Right most fear would happen in POTUS' term? What did they most hope would happen?\n\n2. Which one issue was most important to both sides?\n\nThen discuss as a class.\n\nResult: Most pairs did mention economic issues, but a plurality (4 pairs out of 10) mentioned Insurrectionist issues which were not relevant until 2018. In discussion, I emphasized that when we approach primary sources we must remember that people in the past didn't know what was going to happen.\n\nVice Principal's Notes: Unnecessary. Historiographical approaches not covered by test. Grasp of dates and events are most important. Stick to those in future lessons.\n\nLecture (10 min): Have students take notes on international events of 2016-18, esp. PRC unrest and Taiwan crisis.\n\nResults: Two write-ups for talking (see Disciplinary Form, attached), but otherwise as attentive as could be expected.\n\nVice Principal's Notes: Could Activity 1 have also been done in lecture format?\n\nLast 5 min: Answer questions, explain homework.\n\nResults: Several questions on what it meant to be \"leftist\" and \"rightist\" pre-2019. No questions on homework.\n\nVice Principal's Notes: In future, spend longer on the lecture and handle questions thru social media?\n\nReading: Chapter 2 from textbook, section: \"The Taiwan Crisis.\"\n\nHomework: Take on the role of a leftist or rightist voter. Write a message (at least 1 page double-spaced) to POTUS advising what to do about the Taiwan crisis.\n\nVice Principal's Notes: None\n\n**********\n\n\"Jordan, they don't know anything! Anything!\"\n\n\"What'd you expect? These younguns with their gizmos and their slang and their funny way of walking... probably couldn't find their ass without googling it!\"\n\n\"Hey, I was raised by and iPad and a succession of Android phones, but I picked up a very solid grounding in history, thank you very much. But most of the kids wouldn't know a democrat from a monarchist!\"\n\n\"Eh, we've got an archive of kid-safe political correspondence, right? Bury 'em in primary source documents, let God sort it out.\"\n\n\"That's not really my style. I have to find a way to make a game of it...\"\n\n\"Yes, I too was once young.\"\n\n**********\n\nLesson Plan 2 and Follow-up Notes\n\nSubmitted 19:22:00 Tue 9th November 2038\n\nVice Principal's Notes submitted 29:32:11 Tue 9th November 2038\n\nWarm up (5 min): Quick Jeopardy-style game on Lesson 1 dates and names, winning team gets special username flair for student account until weekend.\n\nResult: Good recall from yesterday, although Jenna Evans and Marcus Cooper still very reluctant to speak up in class.\n\nVice Principal's notes: Good subject matter, but could it have been done as a paper quiz?\n\nActivity 1 (10 minutes): Present collection of actual messages sent by voters to POTUS at the time of the Taiwan Crisis. Students will choose one, and try to predict the writer's affiliation at the time (leftist or rightist) and affiliation post-2019 (Loyalist, Militarist, or Insurrectionist).\n\nResult: Majority of students able to pick out leftist or rightist, but could not predict post-2019 affiliation with any accuracy. Most assumed Rightists were Militarist and Leftists were Insurrectionist, and seemed to guess wildly at who was loyalist.\n\nVice Principal's notes: Insufficient context? It seems like students will be guessing at post-2019 affiliation based on what they have heard from their parents and seen in the media about the war and the three sides.\n\nActivity 2 (20 minutes): Split into groups of three or four. Give each group a list of necessary military equipment and standard salary, and available supplies and budget during the first five months of the 2018 Financial and Industrial crisis (see attachment: Worksheet 1). Have them choose which to cut in which month. A representative from each group will present their decisions and reasoning to the class.\n\nResults: Ran slightly over allotted time by about 3 minutes. Groups were mostly on-task except the students mentioned in Disciplinary Report. Students expressed surprise at shortages, most were not aware of this aspect of the Taiwan Crisis.\n\nVice Principal's Notes: Activities should not run over, cut them short if necessary.\n\nLecture (until end of class): End of the Taiwan crisis, the PRC and US military mutinies.\n\nResults: Students became inattentive, began to fidget and doodle. Improvised and tried to elicit predictions for what would happen next, e.g. \"Why was the nuclear option being discussed? How would the troops react to this?\" Interest picked up slightly but had to keep them 2 min. past bell to finish the lecture.\n\nVice Principal's Notes: Improvisation not strictly necessary. Next time stick to the lecture and report fidgeters on Disciplinary Report. No students were late to next class, so no harm no foul this time, but tread carefully.\n\nReading: Chapter 2 from textbook, section: \"The Mutiny\"\n\nHomework: 2 paragraphs (at least 4 complete sentences each) on the topic: \"What would justify the use of tactical nuclear weapons?\"\n\n*************\n\n\"Hey Kat. How goes the war?\n\n\"I think I'm getting into the swing of it, but Vice Principal Harris is on my ass about less activities and more lectures.\"\n\n\"Oh really? Is the sky also blue?\"\n\n\"At the moment? Grey, actually. Any tips on getting him off my case?\"\n\n\"I find being half a foot taller and 10 years his senior helps tremendously. Have you tried that?\"\n\n\"Seriously, though.\"\n\n\"I dunno. He talks a big game, but as long as you hit your milestones, he usually can't be bothered to actually do anything. If you can fit in activities and* speed up the pace, he might even praise—well, no, he wouldn't, but he might not scold you for it.\"\n\n***********\n\nLesson Plan 3 and Follow-Up Notes\n\nSubmitted 20:05:49 Wed 10th November 2038\n\nVice Principal's Notes submitted 21:41:28 Wed 10th November 2038\n\nWarm up (10 min): Betting game. Split into groups of 3 or 4. Give access to 5 social media feeds, none of which explicitly mention POTUS' considering the nuclear option. Have them bet on when in the feed the news broke that the nuclear option was being considered. Winners get 5 points on the next quiz.\n\nResults: Game was fairly easy and ended early. 3 teams tied, but competition was not so much the point as to get them to pick out the diverse reactions to the news: increased or decreased religiosity, abrupt changes in plans, sudden arguments or reconciliations with friends and family, etc.\n\nVice Principal's Notes: Good job going ahead of schedule.\n\nLecture (15 min): The initial anti-nuclear military mutinies and urban civil unrest in the US, the beginnings of the Militarist-Insurrectionist alliance.\n\nResults: Warm up ended early, so was able to use extra time to also cover PRC mutinies and unrest.\n\nVice Principal's notes: Next time try to notate more exactly how much time saved.\n\nActivity 1 (15 min): Students split into pairs. Give one student a condensed version of mutineer's demands, another a summary of one protest group's demands. Have them discuss what they wanted the other party to do, and what the other party must avoid doing to keep their sympathy. At the end of class, take a poll on how many students think that the mutineer-protestor alliance was basically solid at the beginning, and how many think it was basically unworkable from the beginning.\n\nResults: Good discussion, except for one pair noted on the Disciplinary Form. Almost all students concluded the alliance was basically unworkable. If there is time I would like to devote some of the lecture to why the alliance was thought to be a good idea by both sides.\n\nVice Principal's notes: An acceptable activity for this early stage of the war, but steer away from this sort of thing from now on. Parents who fought for the Loyalists would be extremely displeased to learn their children were learning to sympathize with the other side. Also, stick to the curriculum for lectures. \"Why\" questions are not required until later grades, stick to teaching events and dates.\n\n***************\n", "\"Thomas, what was the cause of the first revolutionary war?\"\n\n\"Taxation without representation.\"\n\n\"And what exactly does that mean, Brittany?\"\n\n\"The British wanted the Colonies to pay for their wars, without letting them vote on anything.\"\n\n\"Absolutely right. What was the cause of the second revolutionary war?\"\n\n\"A couple of twats all upset about their guns.\"\n\n\"Jeremy! That's detention after school, young man.\"\n\nAs the class erupted in snickers, I turned around to the board, picking up the DigiPen and scribbling across the white reflective surface, \"Firearm Regulations\". I spun back around, setting the pen back down on the desk. \"But, yes, firearms regulations. Namely, the public carry bans that sprung up about sixteen months prior. Yes Jennifer?\"\n\n\"Wasn't the real cause the civil rights riots of 2017?\"\n\nI sighed. \"They presented a large amount of the unrest, but the reactionary banning of public carry in 23 states is considered, chiefly, the major cause of the revolution. The riots over the shootings of six teenagers in a club were, to be truthful, very harmful, but with over a hundred dead from rioter gunfire, almost 300 from police gunfire, and a whole long line of arrests, the Clinton gun bill was an immediate cause of the revolution. It took over a year before people realized a full scale civil war was out, and sadly it can be said the northeastern states were the most blind to the problem. Now, however, we have a whole new set of problems. Who can tell us one of the major repercussions of the second revolution?\"\n\nSeveral hands shot up in the air, and I pointed at random. \"Claus?\"\n\n\"The secession of the New Texican states?\"\n\nI nodded. \"Good, what else-\"\n\n\"The California DMZ!\"\n\n\"Yes, William, but please wait until you're called upon. Sarah, a third?\"\n\n\"Ummm... Uhh... Oh! The Utah black bill.\"\n\n\"That's correct. The entire state of Utah, under mormon legislation, banned all firearms and personal weaponry with regular city-by-city sweeps for contraband weaponry. Surprising thing to see from the Mormons. So, we have three major repercussions, and a few that people consider minor, but I'd like to talk about one that most people seem to not take seriously, the reinstatement of the PATRIOT Act as permanent legislation. Everyone just sort of shrugs, there's no problem right? I mean, Big Government could always see what you posted online, what you put in your social media, so who cares?\"\n\nI turned around, and scribbled something else up on the board, reading as I went. \"Those who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety.\" I turned back around. \"For tonight, I'd like to see a 1 KB or more textfile, NO layout, on what Safety we've gained from the permanent PATRIOT Act, as well as what Liberty we've given up. Also, an argument on whether that Safety is truly permanent, or temporary as Mr. Franklin stated? Bonus points on persuasive arguments. Tomorrow, the battle of San Francisco, as well as the Arabic detainment camps in South Dakota.\"\n\n\"Bout the only thing South Dakota's useful for...\"\n\n\"JEREMY!\"", "\"Though the Austin Offensive initially took place on 2021, beginning the official 2nd Civil War, we can trace our roots back to 2019, during the San-Fran Riots regarding the California Water Shortages.\"\n\n\"Drought, professor. It was a drought.\"\n\n\"No one gives a shit, William. Sit back down.\"\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nHistory was always a difficult concept, thought Ms. Hershey as she rested her boots on her desk. In her hand, sat a small pen-like piece of metal. Its blue light was emitted on the map that sat to her side, circling around the Southern US Corridor (which stretched west-to-east from New Mexico to Lousiana and south-to-north from Texas to Kansas).\n\nWilliam, being the absolute twat that he was, was busy pointing another red laser pointer near the same spot.\n\n\"Cut that out, William.\"\n\n\"Piss off.\"\n\n\"Now, we all might be asking ourselves, who started the war? Was it the Texan Confederacy or the Washington Union? To be partial, and correlating to your final, neither side was responsible. You see, in the State of California, a drought**...\"\n\nHershey glared daggers at the smirking William.\n\n\"...placed the state's citizens in a state of panic. Due to poor planning from Republican Governor Elton, the situation regarding water became worse and worse and the reservoirs and reserves soon dried up. At that time, a number of major counties, led by San Francisco, began to act in protest against the harsh policies.\"\n\n\"I'd like it to be known that Elton's actions were only a result of the Democratic Governor-Bitch Chealsy Sterling's absolute crap policies regarding internal infrastructure and foreign relations!\" William loudly declared to the echoing lecture hall. He turned to the boy taking notes by his side, and mocked a whisper. \"Four-hundred billion to a bunch of third-world shit-eaters. For what? Nothing? Bullshit if you ask me.\"\n\n\"Zip it, William! Don't you have a mess hall to clean? I heard the frat boys splattered pizza on the walls as a prank.\"\n\n\"There's a bigger hot mess in this lecture room and I'm looking right at it, Amy.\"\n\nThe students roared in snickering and giggling. A young white girl sitting in the highest seat pulled out her camera and began taking video footage of this event to post it later. Unfortunately, she filmed in vertical, so nobody gave the hilarity a second look.\n\n\"Whatever. Anyways, back to the topic at hand...\" Amy paused, taking a look at William shrugging his shoulders before she could continue.\n\n\"Outraged by the lack of available public service, California immediately demanded more aid from the federal government or it would insist on cutting ties with the Union. Fortunately, an agreement was made, and California was immediately granted aid from the most well-off states at the time... This is where we see Texas's first act of resistance towards the policy. North Carolina, and Georgia followed suit.\"\n\n\"Fucking Florida and their neutrality bullshit.\"\n\n\"Yes, indeed. Fuck Florida,\" said Hershey, staring at her boots. They would need a good shining later tonight, the leather was getting dull. \"In case anyone didn't know, Florida decided to pretend the policy did not even exist as opposed to following or resisting it. It was the funniest event of 2019, and acknowledged by even the United Kingdom as 'the stupidest move since North Korea tried to test nukes on a Japanese fishing boat and lost two-hundred of their own men.' Anyone do a paper on that, I'll mark up some points!\"\n\n\"Professor. Don't you have a lesson to teach?\"\n\n\"I swear to god! If you interrupt one more time, I'll give you a very stern talking to after class.\"\n\n\"Oh wow, I didn't know you were into younger guys, m'am. Please, spare me!\"\n\n\"William... I will literally murder you one day. You won't see it coming, but I will.\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\"Now, onto the move that actually started the war. 'The Congressman Hall Brawl.' An incident where one-hundred Congressman and women threw off their gloves and fought each other in the House of Rep chambers.\"\n\nThe laser pointed flung about wildly on the map of pre-Civil War states, moving from south to west to north, and to west again. She then got up and walked about the room, dragging her nails across William's papers before flashing him in the eyelids with a laser pointer.\n\n\"Though controversy remains on who started the fight, it is known for certain that the single Republic representative of California's fifty-some group had engaged in an argument with another Democratic congressman. A fight broke out as the Texas, Colorado, and Nevada backed the Republican representative against the rest of the Californians.\"\n\n\"Did they kill each other?!\" asked the female student in the back, still recording with her phone.\n\n\"William!\"\n\n\"It wasn't me!\"\n\n\"My room, after hours! As for you, girl with the blonde hair and pasty skin...\"\n\n\"Shaniqua, and I happen to identify as a-.\"\n\n\"No! We're not doing that joke! Put your phone away, and no! Nobody was killed except for a disabled-aid dog from... New Mexico.\"\n\n\"Not the puppy!\"\n\n\"Yes, the puppy!\"\n\nFortunately, at that very moment, the bell-tower of the institute rang its brass tone across the campus. The two-hundred some students packed up their laptops, recorders, and papers and shuffled on outside. A number of them had plugged their smart-glasses on, completely forgoing the rest of the human experience for the next hour of lunch or two.\n\nWilliam finally woke up in half-an-hour and was greeted by the sight of the flashing blue everything. He tried to pull himself away from the chair, only then noticing that his feet were cuffed to the legs of the stool he sat on. Professor Hershey stood over him as he found himself head-first against the floor when he tried to get off.\n\n\"Yeah! Who's the hot mess now, bitch?!\"\n\n\"I don't know. Let's ask the thirty-four year old virgin! Well, are you, Amy?\"\n\n\"You know, they say if you flash a light in someone's eyes long enough, they'll go blind.\"\n\n\n", " Teaching controversial topics is something that every history teacher has to do eventually. It's usually the more recent things that I worry about teaching though. Nobody cares about the right and wrong of the Norman Invasion of England in 1066, but the Second American Civil War is still a hot topic, despite the fact that it ended over a decade ago.\n\n As I entered the classroom, my students fell silent and sat up straight. I couldn't help but think about how disorderly I had been in school, and how the teacher's presence had meant nothing to myself and my fellow classmates. Now, my fourteen and fifteen year-old students didn't say a word, and wouldn't until I asked them to. I set my phone on my desk, and with the push of a button, the screen projected itself onto the wall. It showed my desktop, with the date in opaque, black letters in the lower right corner. \"July 4th, 2038.\" I looked around the room to make sure that my students were ready to take notes. Once I was ready, I broke their respectful silence.\n\n \"Good morning class, how is everybody today?\"\n\n \"Good, Mr. Turner,\" they replied at once. I nodded and looked down at my phone.\n\n \"Begin keynote, 'Second American Civil War.'\" The screen changed to a picture, with a title in front of it. The picture showed three men wearing camouflage fatigues, two holding M16 assault rifles, while the third was holding an older-looking shotgun. They had red patches on their sleeves, with the black silhouette of an Elephant embroidered on them.\n\n \"Today we're going to discuss the most important event in American 21st Century History so far. Do any of you remember anything about the war?\" I didn't expect much of an answer from them. The war had ended in 2025, so my students would have just been born. None of the students raised their hands, though I suspected that it was more because they didn't want to say anything, rather than that they didn't have anything to say.\n\n \"Ok, can any of you tell me why I picked today to talk about?\" One student raised his hand, and I pointed to him.\n\n \"Because it was the old government's Independence Day,\" he said.\n \n \"Very good,\" I touched the wall my screen was projected onto, and it went to the next slide. \"So, first, we're going to talk about the prelude to the war, take notes here. The 2018 General Election was the most contentious in American History. Prior elections had been a source of resentment between the Republicans and the Democrats, but no recent election had resorted to violence until then. Clashes between Republican and Democrat demonstrators in Dallas in April of 2018 led to an outbreak of violence across the United States that affected most major American cities. It was during this violence that the President ordered the Federal Emergency Management Administration, or FEMA, to go into the cities affected by the violence and try to maintain stability. However, many Governors of the states in the U.S. refused to declare a State of Emergency. It's important to point out, we know from some of those Governor's staffers, that they were hoping that their supporters would win in the fighting, and prevent the opposition from voting. So, the President was not entirely wrong when he overrode those Governors and had FEMA agents enter the state under guard from the Army. \n\n \"He promised that they would only remain until after the election, and the end of hostilities between citizens.\" I went to the next slide, which showed a photograph of two U.S. Army soldiers wearing gas masks, standing in front of a sign that read, \"Medical Relief.\" I then went to the next slide, which had more text on it. \"After the Democratic party won a majority in the Senate, many Republicans accused them of voting fraud, and demanded a recount. The Senate wouldn't pass a measure requiring the recount, so Senate Republicans began filibustering every bill that was put forth, in protest. That continued for almost three months, until March of 2019, when the President ordered that Filibustering be disallowed in Congress. The Democrats proposed the Bill, but the Republicans continued to filibuster against it. After five straight days without progress, the President ordered the Master-at-Arms to arrest anyone who approached the bench to filibuster, or spoke for longer than two minutes. A Republican Senator tried to filibuster anyway, and was violently removed from the chamber by security.\n\n \"After footage of the fight between the Senator and security reached the Internet, there were massive protests by Republicans across the country. What's important to understand is, at this time, the Republican Party was the Party of many potential revolutionaries and Militia groups who were prepared to overthrow the government. The Democrats didn't believe in that kind of violent disobedience. Knowing that, we can say that it shouldn't have been much of a surprise when, on April 21st, 2019, a group of Republican Militiamen attacked an Air Force base in Cheyenne, and took control of several nuclear weapons. The Militia requested that the recount be passed through Congress, or they would fire a nuclear missile at Washington D.C. They were killed before they could launch the missile, and chances are they couldn't have, even though they wanted to. However, that event is significant, because it led to the beginning of Republican Uprisings across the United States. Early on, many Republican governors supported these uprisings, and did little to protect Democrats from anti-liberal violence. \n\n \"The uprisings culminated on May 16th, when the Governor of Texas led several Republican states in mobilizing their National Guard Units, and demanded that the President order a recount of the 2018 vote. This is the last point at which the President could have potentially stopped the Civil War from beginning, if he'd bowed to the State's demands, they likely would have stood down. However, instead, the President ordered the Army and Air Force to begin conducting combat operations against rebellious units in the Republican States. This is why May 16th is seen as the beginning of the Second Civil War, and the first major battle, the Battle of San Diego, began four days after.\n\n \"We won't get into what happened during the war until next week, but the basic facts are that the Republican State's heavily armed populations and effective military leadership allowed them to make broad gains against the Democratic states early on, but the Democratic State's economic development meant that they were able to far outdo the Republican forces in terms of equipment and supplies for their troops. The Democrats were able to push back the Republicans, and by 2025, both sides were ready to meet for peace talks. The talks were hosted in Ottawa, Canada, and they took five days. The two sides agreed to sign the Treaty of Ottawa, which split the United States of America, into the Democratic States of America, and the Republican States of America.\" I wanted to cover more than that, but I already knew that the school would be getting a few calls from parents tonight saying that I should be fired. Principal Finnick has always backed me up, but it's not always easy. \n\n The educational reforms in the Democratic States of America removed all tenure, so I could easily get fired. I've known a lot of good teacher's who were fired because they said something that somebody thought was offensive, or did something that a parent thought was insensitive. I've been accused of being a racist for talking about the First Civil War, a Fascist for talking about Hitler, and a Republican for talking about the Second Civil War. My old teachers had never had to worry about this sort of thing, even though people had already been easily offended back then. Hard as it is to keep my job, I know that I'm better off here than in the Republican States. There, they write history the way that they want it to be read, and not how it should be. I remember seeing a magazine at Walmart a few days ago, talking about how the R.S.A. is the only country that teaches creationism in every aspect of their educational system. I couldn't do that. I couldn't tell my students that the Earth is only a few thousand years old, when I know it really is billions. I couldn't tell them that all of the Founding Fathers were Fundamentalist Christians, when they were really Deists. I most certainly couldn't tell them that it was the Democrats who launched the first nuclear strike, when I know that the Republicans are responsible for the day when the bombs fell.\n\n There's little more than ashes for us to remember the old world by. People called it the bloodiest Civil War in history, but I'm not sure that's true. A Civil War is a Brother's War, where families are torn apart, fighting against each other because of slight differences in ideology. America had begun to tear apart long before the Civil War started. We saw the signs, all the political polarization in Congress, the screaming Talk Show Hosts, the online message boards. I think that people gave up on a United America long before they started fighting to end it.", "I huffed and puffed as I cleared the last few stairs, turned left, and started speed walking toward my survey course - my second of the day - on the third floor of the liberal arts building. I hadn't realized that the elevator was out, again!, when I had decided to traipse down to my office (in the basement, of course) to grab my notes and a coke. If I had known about that damned elevator, then I would have just winged it. But what's done and so forth.\n\n\n.\n\n\nI paused outside the door, and took a deep breath. Even though the door opened without a sound, every gaze in the room shot towards me - and then right back to the damned cell phones. Because they're nineteen and twenty year olds, what more could I expect. I jogged across the room and slid my well worn messenger bag (a relic of my own time as an undergrad) off of my shoulder. I pulled the unbuttoned over shirt that I wore off and tossed it over on top of the empty table on my left. I grabbed my notes and a marker and scribbled out a basic outline of the day's lesson on the board along with the class number: History 1113 - Amer. Hist. since 2000. \n\n\n.\n\n\nI turned to the students (and I swear that they look younger and younger every semester), and clapped my hands once. \n\n\"Ok everyone, let's get started! Just to make sure you're all in right place and that I'm running off on tangents from the right notes, this is intro. to botany, yeah?\" \n\nI got a few sparse laughs and even a brief panicked look from a kid that I swear can't possibly be older than about 15.\n\n\"No, No, not to worry, this is History 1113, America since 2000. I promise, there will be no math and as little science (botany included) as I can possibly get away with avoiding. And since I'm tenured, that means that I can avoid a whole lot when I set the course material.\"\n\n\"So, I'm not so old that I don't remember what it's like to be where you are right now. I know that this is a required course for a good many of you, and I can't promise that you'll fall in love with it, but I can promise that I'll try to make this as painless as I can for all of us. I do my best to memorize your names, but since I have a few hundred names to memorize each semester, well, I hope you won't mind if I put a pin in that until after the end of add/drop. If you'll each take one of these and pass it around, this is your syllabus.\"\n\n.\n\n\"Now, I know that most professors use the first day to go over the syllabus, but I like for y'all to have a chance to read through it. That way, if you have any questions, you can ask them when we do go over it in class on Thursday. For now, I'd like to jump right on in with you.\" \n\nI looked around the room, and saw that several of the students were still pulling their notebooks and pens out, so I paused.\n\nContinued In Part II...\n" ]	7
	[WP] In the middle of the night, you are woken by a tapping at your window: branches. You turn to go back to sleep, then remember: there is no tree there.	[ "A shovel in my hands. There was darkness. A dirt wall in front of me. I was only able to see a pin of light from up above shinning in front of me into the dirt wall surrounding me. I couldn't talk like my mouth was filled with water. My hands moved without my control. Even my thoughts floated in the air like my body wasn't mine. I was still digging. Digging. Digging... closing my eyes...\n\nCRACK! A sudden thunder filled the air of my bedroom. Hastily waking up to the sound, shades of branches knocked and shadowed my dark bedroom. I gasped my breath and grabbed my pillow tightly into my head. Another thunder reached into my sleep, quietly, slowly crawling.\n\nI opened my eyes with my body feeling like I have walked for ages into nothing ness. My legs grew tired. My thirst reached the end of my tongue. Without a reason, my body was just walking in the white light. A Sudden noise of a lifeless thud of leather shoes echoed around the empty space. A dark shadowed man walked past me. I didn't look closely into his look, but I had a strange feeling that I have met this man before.\n\nAs he past, a slow breeze ran though my shoulder then grabbed tightly behind my back. The breeze left me only with an excruciating pain emerging as I tried to walk further. The pain left me hanging, while I, again, close my eyes to be away from this pain.\n\nI opened my eyes. Looking around my bedroom, I knew no one was there, but my shoulder was still in pain.\n\nAnother lightening struck so closely to my house as a grabbed a breath. A clear white shadow of a lightening laid beside the bed. Without a wait another thunder filled and startled me.\n\n\"Wait...\" I said.\nQuietly, I thought to myself, \"Where is the shadow of the lightening\"\nHowever, the thought slipped away when I felt another shrieking pain on my left shoulder.\n\nI reached my shoulder soothingly with my hand to relax the pain from my dream.\nWhen I grabbed my shoulder, it wasn't my shoulder. It was... a hand... I turned my head to look into a shape of a shadowed man.\n\nThat man! That man from my dream. Utter shock stopped my body to do anything. As he covered my mouth with his right, I wasn't able to shout anything as I realized my death standing closely. The pain shook me into numbness... Burning Firing sensation filled my body, but I wasn't moving. I shut my eyes so tightly. I squinted and locked my eyes again and again to stay away from this awful dream.\n\"Like the last few, let me leave!!!!\" I told myself.\nMore and more I tried, I started to lose sensation of my parts.\nDrops and drops fell down from my eyes to my cheek. I gazed into a faceless body twitching in a mirror, while it poured its thick red blood on the floor. I wasn't able to do anything, but sob... and I closed my eyes.\n\nThe pain stopped so suddenly then my eyes opened. I was typing, typing into a blank page. Every word that I wrote slowly faded.\n\nps. rough draft... :P", "How did I end up here? No, I’m not offended – on the contrary, I’m glad you asked. I know you’ll probably think I’m crazy; but I guess I’m buying you a drink so you to listen to me, not act as my psychiatrist. So here goes.\n\n\nI’m a thirty year old woman. It’s been a month since I was married – a month preceded by multiple more filled with suits, ties, and lawyer’s fees. It’s been fifteen days since I didn’t have a restraining order against my husband, and five days ago I moved into my new house. Ten days before then, I also moved into a new house – I’m not finished talking, hear me out.\n\n\nThe first time I moved into a new house was because my husband decided, in a moment of verdant angst, to defoliage my front yard; I vaguely recall him squawking something about how it was “His yard too!” Anyway, that’s irrelevant. As he harangued from the ground floor, I took the chance to call my lawyer and see what we could gain out of the situation. I figured if he moved to chop down the door, I could just call the police then. How d’you mean ‘How would he chop down the door?’. Oh yes; he had a fire axe.\n\n\nAnyway, while it was certainly somewhat disquieting in the moment I can now look back in a more mathematical way and say, with my sleeve in my heart, I would definitely do it again. He got a restraining order and a fine, and I – well, I gave a restraining order and nice, tidy check - enough to relocate somewhere nicer, quieter, and hopefully more deficient of axe-wielding lunatics.\n\n\nIt was a very nice neighbourhood. I could wake up at whichever time I wanted – don’t tell anyone, but to get a week off of work to enjoy the ambience I was able to spout some nonsense about being triggered by the words ‘Fire’ and ‘Axe’ or the colour red juxtaposed to the colour green. The only real issue with the house was that every night a tree, laid adjacent to my house, would tap it branches upon my window pane. I simply fixed this by, before my slumber, fixing it into a harness outside my window. It was rather unsightly in the day, so I would adjust it twice a day to avoid looking at it. You miss a day, I guess.\n\n\nSo, six days ago I’m feeling desperately tired and go to sleep without affixing my harness. I wake up at what seemed to be around five in the morning to an incessant thud, thud, thud, and the damned tapping. I’ve no idea why I didn’t catch on quicker; but no surprise, as I fix I see that god forsaken leafy bastard down there again. But this time it’s not him! It’s not just my ex-husband the coppice bastard, but his brother! He payed his brother to deforest my front-yard, the cheek of him! To the man’s credit, he didn’t seem to be over enthused about the whole thing himself – but three-hundred dollars is three-hundred dollars. He advised that I move far-away from there if I wanted to ever have a tree again in my life. I rather like my trees, so I decided to move to London to retain them. \n\nAnd that’s how I ended up in Britain. Don't look at me like that, you're the one who asked!", "\"Stephen.\"\nHe rolled over, vaguely recognizing his wife's voice in some distant corner of his mind. The bed was warm and comfortable, and his haze of sleep too heavy to be easily broken. An old man needs his rest, he thought idly. \n\"STE-phen!\" Her voice was more insistent now, and the way she enunciated his name clearly meant trouble. Reluctantly, he tried to pay more attention; his eyes were still heavy and his brain felt muffled. He turned his head, but couldn't seem to open his eyes; he was just so damn tired.\n\"Yeah? What is it?\" He finally managed to answer.\n\"The window..\" Rosalie sounded terrified. He wasn't worried though; quite frankly, Rosie was skittish and easily frightened. She was the kind of woman who saw nightmares in shadowy corners and horror in the mundane. \n\"There's nothing there, sweetheart. Go back to sleep.\" \n\"There is. Do you not hear that tapping?\" Her voice broke, and he felt her warmth snuggle against him under the cool sheets.\n\"It's just the trees, Rosie. I promise.\" Had he been looking at her, he would've rolled his eyes. He loved Rosalie, but the dramatics needed to stop.\nHis wife stayed silent this time.\nHe sighed, content to drift back to sleep, when he heard the jarring sound.\nTap, tap, tap..\nHe took a deep breath, calming his nerves. Rosie was quiet, so she must be asleep...otherwise, she'd be chattering like usual. It's the trees, just the trees. My God, her hysteria was contagious. \nTap, tap, tap...\nBut as much as he told himself this, as much as he wanted to peacefully rest, that goddamn tapping continued. It grated his senses.\nTap, tap, tap...\n He tossed and turned, somewhere between consciousness and slumber, halfway dreaming of dark whispers and Rosie's horrified voice. \nTap, tap, tap...\nIt was one of the most awful nights he'd had in a long time.\nGentle knocking woke him, however, hours later; he wasn't even aware he had fallen asleep. His nurse strode in, greeting him with a cheerful good morning; he opened his eyes, surprised to find his bed empty.\nHe compliantly allowed the young woman to help him bathe and dress for the day before he was helped into his wheelchair; he hadn't been able to complete simple tasks like this since his seventies. As he was wheeled out of the bathroom, he worried; anxiety from somewhere he couldn't place crept into his mind.\n\"Where's Rosalie?\" He asked softly.\nHis nurse stared at him blankly. \"Excuse me, sir?\"\n\"Rosalie, my wife. She was up all last night because of the damn branches tapping against the window; I think she may have left early to go on a walk, perhaps. She's obviously not here.\"\nHis irritation growing, he added, \"And clip those damn branches. Or better yet, chop down the whole goddamn tree.\"\nThe nurse calmly responded, \"Mr. Stephen, Rosalie has been dead for ten years. \"\nHe gasped audibly, and the room began to spin; he felt close to fainting, or maybe vomiting. As he tried to hold it together, he glanced at his window; to his disbelief, his eyes were met with clear blue sky and green plush grass.\nNo branches; no tree.\n", "Once, the wind whispered through the grass and the leaves at night and carried away the endless hum of insects and the soft sounds of nocturnal birds searching for their prey. A blanket of peace across a world sleeping fitfully through the hot muggy months of summer. The boy remembered smelling it come through the window, the tang of blooming flowers and looming thunderstorms, as he lay sweating on top of the sheets. He remembered closing his eyes without fear, without apprehension, secure in the unquestioned assurance that he would open them again when he awoke to the sun rising over the horizon.\n\nBut the wind had gone silent years ago, back when the sky had cracked in half, and the boy no longer trusted that the world would be there when his eyes opened. The window was closed and locked, and the door to his room was barricaded shut. His bed was soaked with sweat, but he could not bring himself to remove the sheet that stuck to his skin. The thin layer of cloth would do nothing but hamper his movements should his shelter fail, but as he cowered in the dark he could not help but seek its imagined protection.\n\nHe was older than he looked in the day, and wiser in the ways of the new world than even that age would imply. Sleep was necessary, he knew, and panic without threat a waste of energy. He calmed his racing heart with long, even breaths, and forced his eyes closed. Exhaustion stole through his mind and soon he felt himself slipping away into a dream of a summer half-forgotten and long past.\n\nThe tapping at the window wove itself into his dream, at first. Back before the trees had been corrupted they had sometimes scratched at his window when the wind blew just right. A sign of a storm to come, usually, but nothing to worry about. Just another sound in a night soon to end. He turned over and his hand brushed the long knife by his head and the dream evaporated in a disorienting rush. His hand closed on the handle of the knife and his heart resumed its panicked pace, beating in time to the tapping on the glass.\n\nThe darkness in the room was complete. He dared not move. Whatever it was might be content to scratch idly at the window and then fly or crawl or jump away. He knew that things hunted in the night; he saw their bloody work often enough as he foraged during the day. But he had no idea how they hunted, and that lack of knowledge paralyzed him.\n\nThe tapping stopped and an almost painful surge of adrenaline shot through his rigid body. He controlled it, stayed still, and waited for a few more light breaths. Then a piercing cry screeched outside the window and he heard the whump-whump of large wings beating against the air. He gripped the handle of the knife so hard his knuckles cracked, but the window held fast. The wingbeats faded. Another cry tore through the night, further away this time, receding into the distance, and his body shuddered with a suppressed sob.\n\nHe lay awake in the dark as his heart slowed, realizing that it was time to find a new shelter for the nights to come, and hating that realization. The house was as they had left it when they had been evacuated, and he had kept it clean ever since he had come back alone. The pictures on the mantle, the little memorabilia that seemed to hang from every wall. All that was left. But he had to move. He had seen the other houses with the holes in their walls and the nests made of bone, and as much as he did not want to leave his family behind, he did not want to die.\n\nHis eyes drifted closed and he fell back into a dream. But for that night and all nights after, his hand never left the knife.", "It began with tapping. \n\nMr. Green did not think that unusual. It was the sin of old things to creak and moan and complain, he knew, to create an infernal racket that ought frighten only the timid and the tame. \n\nBut on Monday morn the streets of their small town of Black Grove were riddled with little cracks lately emerged, and the schoolboys delighted to jump over them on their way to the little wooden school that lay outside the outskirts of the wooden forest that gave their village its name. \n\nThe neighbors had held a meeting at Dr. Jim's house in the evening to discuss fees and fines and street-side cracks, in a banality second-nature to children old and bitter grown. The old missus, a wealthy widower who lived across the street was quite sure that all the peculiar happenings underfoot were the work of the devil and brandished a cross at every person who stepped into the good Doctor's door. \n\nOf course, the good doctor himself had strong opinions about the absurdity of such a thing and pontificated at length about the natural science of roots, to which everyone pretended to listen. A few local myths were idly mentioned and then the courtesy cocktails were served (for the good Doctor's wife desired that none think of them as people of little means!)\n\nHaving little desire for drink and less for attempted matchmaking on the part of the Doctor's wife, to whom a wealthy young bachelor seemed a perfect match for one of her daughters, Mr.Green returned to his home sober.\n\nA decision that he would come to regret for the rest of his days, no longer able to discount the extraordinary happenings to come as the mere delusions of an alcohol-addled mind...\n\n-\n\n(Part I, if there is any interest I will continue. Otherwise, if you can please review. Every bit helps in getting better). " ]	5
Either with other lifeforms or just humans. Be creative!	[WP] Write about a Sherlock Holmes adventure. But in space!	[ "It had been another dreary day on Baker Street, with the incessant rain so familiar to Londoners showing no sign of letting up. Holmes, of course, was putting in many hours of practice on his violin, as he claimed that the humidity levels were just right for a day of Shubert. He was in the midst of his fourth rendition of Concerto in D Major when we were interrupted by the dulce tones of an incoming Skype call. Blessedly, it was Inspector Lestrade, seeking our advice on a most peculiar matter.\n\n\"Watson, my good man,\" the detective blurted with a nervous anxiety, \"it seems that there has been an incident of significant gravity on the International Space Station which requires the attention of yourself and Mr. Holmes.\" The notes in the drawing room ceased immediately, followed by Holmes' practically bursting into our kitchen. I feared that he was about to take umbrage to this interruption of his practice, but to my surprise, he showed nothing but undisguised glee at the prospect of a new case.\n\n\"Lestrade,\" he said in an uncharacteristic agitation, \"I assure you that John and I are at your service in the utmost in this matter. If you please, describe the situation-- and leave no detail unsaid, even if it seems completley trivial!\" And with thst he reclined into his chair, lit his pipe, and shut his eyes in complete concentration.\n\n\"Well, Mr. Holmes,\" the inspector began, \"one of the astronauts aboard the station has been fatally poisoned. A Dr. Hideo Hayashi, a Japanese physicist working on experiments dealing with gravity or some such. I'm a bit befuddled by it all, to be honest; science was never my strong suit, I fear.\"\n\n\"As do we all, Inspector. Science and sound reasoning are keystones in proper analysis and deduction, after all. Heaven knows how many criminals walk freely amoungst us because Scotland Yard prizes 'instinct' and 'people skills' above all else-- much to their detriment, I should say!\"\n\n\"Err,\" Lestrade replied weakly, searching for some apologetic segue. \"You are aware that Scotland Yard's CSI division is the largest in Europe, aren't you?\"\n\n\"No matter such trifles, Inspector; please continue!\" Holmes insisted, a ring of smoke slowly emerging from his lips.\n\n\"Our DNA lab has a £12M budget... I'm just saying.... Anyway, there are three other occupants of the ISS right now: Commander Aaron Anderson, also American, and an Air Force pilot; Dr. Isaak Weizman, an Israeli biologist; and Dr. Paul Washington, mission subcommander, and an American chemist.\"\n\n\"Mmmm....\" Holmes murmured thoughtfully. \"And suspicions fall upon the chemist, I assume, as the cause of death is poisoning?\"\n\n\"Well, yes Holmes, but of course Dr. Washington denies his involvement. And given the difficulties of retrieving the evidence....\"\n\n\"Certainly. Tell me, Lestrade, of the circumstances of Randolph's death.\"\n\n\"Ahh, well... there's a bit of a snag there. As you might have guessed, each nation was responsible for providing the fòod supplies for their respective astronauts. The evening of Hayashi's death, the crew ate their meal together in the main cabin. Since I know you'll ask, Dr. Hayashi and Commander Anderson both ate roast beef and swiss cheese sandwiches, Dr. Weizman ate soba noodles with vegetables, and Dr. Washington ate a hot dog and carrots. Moments later, Dr. Hayashi passed out, and was unable to be revived.\"\n\n\"A hot dog, you say? It sounds like poor fare for astronauts, even if there was a friendly exchanging of meals around this international table. This hot dog clearly belonged to Dr. Weizman, obviously a holdover from his student days in Brooklyn.\"\n\n\"How could you possibly know that?\" I asked, secretly looking forward to some small matter of brilliance.\n\n\"I hate to disappoint, John, but there's no small matter of brilliance here; rather, I have read some of Dr. Weizman's academic papers from his time at the Brooklyn research facility he supervised in the 1990s. As it turns out, the facility is a short walk to a Nathan's Famous restaurant, which is quite well-known for their kosher offerings.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Lestrade said somewhat proudly, \"I'd reckoned that the hot dog meal was Dr. Weizman's as well. Our report suggests that this was a common practice amoungst the crew.\"\n\n\"One more thing inspector: did any of the astronauts have access to the others' food supplies?\" Holmes stretched lazily in his chair, then tamped the tobacco in his pipe and relit it, filling our kitchen with a haze of blue smoke.\n\n\"It seems so, I'm afraid; any one of the crew could have delivered the fatal doseage. We did receive a photograph of the poisoned package, however, and there is a minute, quite unobservable puncture hole which we suspect was delivered with a hypodermic needle. This hole was discovered only after hours of study, it was that well hidden.\"\n\n\"Fear not, Inspector, for it may be that such a policy which at first seems to widen our net may, in an ironic twist, actually trap the villain after all! For my next question: it's clear that the poisoned meal was originally in the hands of Dr. Washington, yet given to Dr. Hayashi. Even more reason to suspect him! Tell me, were the Americans' meals individually labelled as well?\"\n\nLestrade was silent for a moment, save for the sounds of papers being rifled through. Finally: \"No, Dr. Washington and Commander Anderson shared unlabelled food packs from the same cabinet.\"\n\n\"Very well, Inspector. Please see to it that Dr. Weizman is retreived and arrested in accordance with all due respect to international law and regulations and what have you.\" I was flabbergasted, and Inspector Lestrade was shocked into silence.\n\n\"I... I... Well, Holmes...\" Lestrade stammered, \"you've never been wrong before, I suppose. But do tell me, how in the Dickens could you know this based only on the details I've told you?!\"\n\n\"It's quite simple, actually,\" Holmes said, resting his chin on his folded hands. \"Obviously Dr. Hayashi wouldn't have poisoned himself in such a manner. Even if he were suicidal, he would have poisoned his own food rather than risk the life of Dr. Washington. No, the killer would have taken advantage of the comraderie of our international table. First, he would have suggested the trade if it hadn't been agreed upon already. Nor would Dr. Washington poison his own food, given the risk of a trade not happening. And Commander Anderson neither could risk accidentally mixing up the meals, as they were unlabelled, and he being just as likely to end up with the poisoned food. Plus suggesting that his fellow American trade with him would have attracted even Lestrade's suspicions. Also, there was no way to deliver the hypodermic needle in view of the crew, and delivering the poison prior to the meal meant running the risk of losing the tiny puncture in the shuffle. Now, given that Dr. Washington and Commander Anderson were issued the same meal, it would have made no sense for them to trade. And, given that Dr. Weizman would have been prohibited from eating the Americans' meals due to their nor being kosher, he couldn't accept Dr. Washington's meal. Ergo, only Dr. Hayashi could receive the tainted meal. All Dr. Weizman had to do was feel for the puncture mark as the packages were passed around, and ensure that that particular meal ended up in front of Dr. Hayashi.\"\n\n\"Quite brilliant, once again, Holmes!\" I exclaimed. He merely gave a slight nod of his head, then sighed.\n\n\"Unfortunately brilliant, I would say,\" he replied.\n\n\"Unfortunate?\" I asked. \"How so? You've solved a murder from thousands of miles away, on a space station, no less!\"\n\n\"Yes, that is something remarkable, I suppose.\" He paused, then said, \"I do wish I could have kept it to myself, however. Even if there had been the slightest of chances, I should have held out for a personal inspection of the station. I think that I'd find being in space... quite interesting.\"", "Sherlock was just solving the murder when he realized something. The prompt called for him being in space! So... Why was he not in space? For all he knew, he was still in london. Scratch that, he Was in london.\n\nSo, why was he not in space?\n\nHe decided to ask watson, who was conveniently in the vacinity.\n\n\"Watson, why are we not in space? The prompt calls for it\".\n\nAfter contemplating this for a moment, watson replied, \"Sherlock, you really need to learn about the solar system..\"" ]	2
The Q fucked up and sent an Imperial Star Destroyer with Darth Vader in command (Instead of the Borg) to the Alpha Quadrant. How does Picard & the Enterprise deal with this new threat to galactic peace? This was inspired by this pic (http://www.dailyfailcenter.com/331050) I've read allot of the replies, and some of the technical comparisons, it's basically a David versus Goliath situation. The Star Destroyer is many times the size, and has vastly more armaments, power and sub-light top speed. Packed full of Fighters, Bombers and probably a expeditionary force of Strom Troopers, it's a frightening sight in Federation Space. The Enterprise is vastly more maneuverable, capable of employing short range defensive and offensive warp jumps, with longer range and far more accurate and advanced weapon systems. I'm curious to see what your minds can turn out in terms of an entertaining story. So many un-answered questions, can't wait to hear your take on it.	[WP] Imperial Star Destroyer battles USS Enterprise	[ "Here is some of the technical comparisons I was linked to from that picture in the original post. Have no way of verifying his numbers, but if the power output of the turbolasers is even half what he claims, Enterprise will feel those burns.....when they hit, won't be often with imperial troops behind the guns. It's also possibly that the scientific grade shielding on a Federation cruiser might be much more effective & efficient at absorbing such blasts from Trubolasers and Ion Cannons of the Empire. Also the Empires defensive capabilities might be greatly reduced by the advanced weaponry of the ST universe. Transporters alone would blow their minds a little.\n\nhttp://www.stardestroyer.net/Empire/Essays/FiveMinutes.html\n\nI'm skeptical only because it was obviously written by a SW Fan, I'm a Trekkie.", "Without explanation there hung in front of the Enterprise a massive, wedge-shaped vessel of unidentifiable origin. Picard stood, straightened his uniform, and spoke:\n\n\"Shields up. Report.\"\n\n\"Readings indicate a massive warship of some kind. It fits no known pattern of vessel that Star Fleet has come in contact with. There are many life-forms aboard, and numerous turret armaments of unidentifiable origin and construction. The vessel is strongly shielded. I am detecting a number of smaller engine signatures that seem to indicate single-seat fighters in a flight deck near the underside of the ship.\"\n\n\"There are no known origins for this ship, Data? Nothing even similar that we can extrapolate from?\" asks Riker.\n\n\"No, sir.\"\n\n\"Theories,\" Picard asks the bridge at large, never taking his eyes from the viewscreen.\n\nSilence.\n\n\"Are we close enough to establish a communications link, Mr. Data?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. Though I cannot say with confidence whether they will be able to read our comms frequencies, Captain.\"\n\n\"Very well, broad band communications then. Lets give them the best chance of understanding us.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nA moment passes as Data configures the communications.\n\n\"Whenever you are ready, Captain.\"\n\n\"This is Captain Jean-Luc Picard of the Federation Starship Enterprise. Please respond.\"\n\nThe communications link resolves, audio only.\n\n\"Captain Picard. This is the Imperial Star Destroyer Devastator. Lower your shields and prepare to be boarded.\"\n\nA stunned silence pervades. Picard signals Data to mute the line.\n\n\"Boarded? Imperial Star Destroyer? Who are these people?\" \n\n\"I don't know, Number One.\"\n\n\"Captain, I believe our only available course of action at this time is to power weapons. I have been studying their shields and they appear to be strong, but not of a typical make. Our phasers should be able to damage or penetrate them. We also have the advantage of maneuverability over the \"\n\n\"Thank you Mr. Worf. What about their weapons?\"\n\n\"We have no point of reference for their power, sir.\"\n\n\"Mr. Data, contact Star Fleet and appraise them of the situation. Do it discretely, we don't have any idea what this Devastator is capable of, and we can't risk them seeing us calling for help.\"\n\n\"Yes, Captain.\"\n\n\"Number one, Counselor Troi, Worf, in my ready room, please.\"\n\nPicard and his officers stand and begin to exit the bridge. Data calls out:\n\n\"Captain, they have launched several smaller vessels. One appears to be a troop carrier and boarding craft, the others appear to be escorts. They will arrive in two minutes and eighteen seconds at current speed.\"\n\n\"Well they have made our decision for us,\" Captain Picard resumes his seat, \"Mr. Worf, power phasers, arm photon torpedoes.\"\n\n\"Sir.\"\n\n\"Mr. Data, accelerate and try to get behind them. I would rather disable this ship than destroy it completely. So far we have had more questions than answers.\"\n\n\"What about the boarding craft?\"\n\n\"Outrun them, Number one. If they pursue we will be forced to take lethal action.\"\n\n\"Weapons ready, Captain.\"\n\n\"Good. Mr. Data, have you been able to pinpoint their shield generators, power systems, and weapons systems?\"\n\n\"It is hard to say, Captain. The design of this vessel is extremely foreign. They appear to be following a different set of scientific principles altogether.\"\n\n\"Your best guess will have to do, Mr. Data. Mr. Worf, target their shield generators first, sustained blasts until we read that they are down.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir\"\n\nThe Enterprise leaps forwards, arcing around the side of the Star Destroyer. As soon as the Devastator detects their powered weapons turbo-laser batteries open fire. Impacts rock the Enterprise, sparks fly and small damages are recorded.\n\n\"Shields down to 78%, Captain.\"\n\n\"Analysis of the blasts show that they are, in fact, laser-based weaponry but capable of a far higher yield than the laser weaponry we are familiar with.\"\n\n\"Maintain course. Mr. Worf, whenever you are ready.\"\n\nPhasers trace brilliant lines across the shield projectors on the Devastator, not enough to bring them down, but enough to make the Imperials nervous. Several flights of TIE Fighters launch and swarm towards the slower Enterprise.\n\n\"Incoming single-seat fighters, Captain.\"\n\n\"Mr. Worf, target the center of mass of the fighters and deploy a photon torpedo set to at timed detonation.\"\n\n\"Sir.\"\n\nMoments later a streak of brilliant light and a high-yield explosion tear through the TIE Fighters, disabling, damaging, and destroying the majority of the fighters. The rest of the flight is cleaned up easily with secondary phasers.\n\n\"Shields at 31%.\"\n\n\"Where are our reinforcements, Mr. Data?\"\n\nA moment later three vessels drop out of warp and begin firing on the Devastator. With multiple targets to contend with the turbo-laser batteries are forced to split fire and the Enterprise limps behind the larger vessel and targets their engines. Moments later the ship is dead in space, but its weapons and fighters were still active. A Federation ship is assigned to cover the launch bays, destroying or disabling any fighters that attempt to launch while the Enterprise and her two companions destroy the individual turbo-laser turrets as Mr. Data concluded that any damage to the power system may result in total obliteration of the Star Destroyer.\n\n---\n\nAnd that's all I have time for folks! Sorry for the rushed and abrupt ending. The plan was to describe the prolonged fight between two-fisted punches combined with several poorly-aimed (except at the critical moment) phaser shots and Storm Troopers not hitting anything (cause Picard-and-crew are the main characters) except the four our five redshirts they bring along with the bridge crew to subdue 10,000 Stormtroopers and 25,000 crew (Casting budget restraints, you know the deal)." ]	2
	[WP] Hitler is getting tired of time travellers coming to assassinate him, so he travels forward in time to kill the inventor of the time machine, who travels back in time to kill Hitler.	[ "Why do I drink? I drink because Hitler killed my father.\n\nNo no no I understand that Hitler offed himself over 300 years ago, it doesn't change the fact that he killed my dad last month.\n\nYou see my dad invented time travel, or at least he thought he did. He raved about it since I was a kid, worked on it every free moment he got. Most kids get blurnsball practice on their Saturday, I got to watch dad research tachyon particles.\n\nSo anyway you know that old hypothetical about what the first thing you'd do if you discovered time travel? Everybody seems to answer that with \"well I'd go kill Hitler, obviously.\" Here's the thing though, my dad was a researcher and a scientist not a hitman. So Pops got a little tipsy during his post-discovery celebration and put word out on the Proto-Silk Road that he'd give people free time travel to kill Hitler. He wakes up the next morning and there's a half mile line down his street of people who want to travel in time, but there's just one problem: who in the hell believes an anonymous internet post about discovering time travel? So dad's got this line of freaks down his road and a promise to keep. He opened up the garage and one by one he let them file in to the time machine with their nunchucks and katanas and tinfoil hats.\n\nHere's where I get a little hazy on the details. So for dad it takes about 4 hours to funnel through this crowd of people and place them wherever they want on Hitler's timeline, for Hitler this is his whole fucking life. As I understand it from the time he was a twinkle in his father's eye Hitler was constantly under threat by mostly harmless if incredibly unstable internet lurkers of the 24th century.\n\nDo you understand how annoying that would be? Do you realize just how insane that would make a person? The lengths to which that person would go in order to make it stop? They would invent time travel just to end the person who was causing it.\n\nSee Hitler only rose to power to gather the resources he needed to put an end to the madness. Once he was in power he started funneling money into tachyon research. By April of 1945 his teams had made a breakthrough and built their own time machine. Realizing the power of the machine Hitler promptly killed anyone who knew about it.\n\nSo ol' Adolf shows in my dad's living room about 6 hours after Dad sent the first responder through and finds Pops taking a nap on the couch. He tortured my father for 29 hours before he killed him with a kitchen knife to the stomach. Before he finished it he made my dad write me a note in his own blood telling me that he died a failure, that everything he had spent his life working on was worthless, and that because of how reckless he had been my family would forever be known as the ones who taught the Nazis to time travel.\n\nI didn't know what was happening till I got called in to identify my dad at the morgue. Turns out Hitler blew up dad's machine, burned his garage, and recalled back to 1945.\n\nThankfully Hitler's machine wasn't fully calibrated and he didn't make it back until April 29th 1945 where he was already under siege. Shortly after he got back power was cut and he had no way to travel away. Trapped and afraid Hitler destroyed his own machine out of spite and offed himself.\n\nSo why do I drink? My father died a failure, because of his actions Hitler learned to time travel hundreds of years before anyone else figured it out. Because of him both time machines were destroyed and no one else has any idea where to start researching. Because of his stupidity his obsession and my childhood were rendered meaningless. I drink because Hitler was right.", "\"Activate...DIE ZIETMASCHINE.\"\n\n\"Yes mein Fuhrer, your will be done.\" One of the SS Officers slammed the red button. The twelve chronoystals began to vibrate, and the underground command center glowed in a phantasmal blue light. \n\nHitler laughed diabolically as the cobalt ball of energy began to consume him, clutching his Luger. \"No longer shall the Reich be plagued by these malicious enemies, these cowardly knives lurking in the shadows. I shall put an end to it! IT IS THE WILL OF THE FUHRER.\"\n\nThe SS Officers, taking shelter behind tables from the hideous wind that had arisen, shouted their assent. Suddenly they were blinded by a electric blue flash. When they raised their eyes again, Hitler was gone.\n\nA voice came over the time-radio. \"I am in the future! Die zietmaschine was a success!\"\n\nThe same SS guard who had pressed the button grabbed the radio. \"Praise be to your genius, Fuhrer. May you hunt down this dog who...\"\n\nThere was another cobalt flash, and the SS officer dropped the radio in surprise. When he looked up, a man was standing in the middle of the command center with an assault rifle.\n\n\"Where's Hitler?\" he asked, pointing the gun.\n\n\"...der Fuhrer is not here right now,\" the SS officer said slowly.\n\n\"I can see that,\" the man said, \"What I want to know is...\" He looked over at the time machine suddenly. \"Oh fuck...who gave you guys chronoystals?\"\n\nOne of the SS guards from the back suddenly walked up to the first guard holding a picture. \"Dietrich, look at this.\" The first guard's eyes widened.\n\n\"You are Eric Fletcher,\" Dietrich said. \"Inventor of die zietmaschine.\" Fletcher nodded. \n\nHitler's voice suddenly came over the time-radio that had been dropped on the floor. \"I have not yet found Eric Fletcher, but I now search his house! This dog will soon tremble before my might!\"\n\nFletcher raised his eyebrows. \"He went forward in time to try to kill me, didn't he?\" The SS Guards had guilty looks.\n\nFletcher rubbed his forehead. \"Honestly, you guys...\"\n\n\"Maybe he doesn't need to come back!\" one of the SS Officers impulsively shouted. Almost immediately he clapped a hand over his mouth. The other SS turned in shock.\n\n\"Hans, what are you saying?\" the first officer asked.\n\n\"Well...\" Hans said cautiously, \"He's kind of a douche.\"\n\nThe other SS Guards' jaws hit the floor, but after carefully looking around, they slowly began to nod. Another spoke up. \"And why does he hate the Jews so much?\"\n\n\"Oh my god, I thought I was the only one!\" said Dietrich. \"Jews this, Jews that? What is with that guy!\"\n\n\"I like Hitler,\" said one of the guards.\n\n\"Shut up Steve, you're a fucking dick.\" said Dietrich.\n\n\"God Steve, just shut up. You're such an idiot,\" said Hans. Steve looked at the ground sadly.\n\nHitler's voice came from the time-radio. \"The coward is not here. He hides from my boot like a mouse from the cat. I am prepared for retrieval. ACTIVATE THE CHRONOYSTALS.\"\n\n\"Who talks like that? Fuck this guy,\" said Dietrich. \"Can we leave him?\"\n\n\"He can stay in the future,\" said Fletcher. \"We'll handle it.\"\n\n\"Oh, thank you so much,\" said Hans. The other SS officers nodded gratefully.\n\nThe time-radio blared again. \"ACTIVATE THE CHRONOYSTALS, YOUR FUHRER GROWS MOST IMPATIE...\" Dietrich turned down the volume and shook Fletchers hand.\n\n\"Make sure it's painful,\" he said.\n\nFletcher laughed. \"Oh, don't worry. We're totally going to fuck him up.\"\n\n\"Fuck this...up?\"\n\n\"Future expression, don't worry about it.\" Fletcher pulled out his radio. \"This is Fletcher, prepared for extraction.\" He waved, and then disappeared in a final cobalt flash.\n\nHans turned to Dietrich. \"What now?\" There was the muffled explosion of a Soviet bomb in the distance. \n\n\"We should probably tell them the war is off,\" said Dietrich.\n\n\"And release the Jews!\" said one of the other officers.\n\n\"Oh my god, yes, we must release the Jews at once!\" The SS officers scurried off. \n", "\"I have traveled from the future to assassinate you for crimes you will commit against humanity, Adolf Hitler.\"\n\n\"Another one? These are getting more common by the day, it seems like. Well, let's get this over with.\"\n\nThe assassin, either a very strictly adherent rabbi or someone who thought it would be funny to kill Hitler dressed as a rabbi, didn't speak German and had no clue what Hitler said. Without missing a beat, he drew his unidentifiable futuristic weapon, pointed it at Hitler, and pulled the trigger. The instant Hitler was killed, the time traveler had created the classic paradox of going back in time to do a specific thing, which then leads to there being no reason to go back in time in the future, which leads to the reason for going back unfulfilled, and so on. What most people don't realize is that creating such a paradox doesn't implode the universe or cause a black hole to form. You see, the universe has a simple fix for such paradoxical events: it moves time back. So, as Hitler was killed, the universe moved time backward a few instants, but this time the time traveling murderous rabbi or rabbi impersonator disappeared in a puff of smoke. Perhaps the universe erased him from ever existing. Perhaps it teleported him to a far-away Galaxy. Perhaps it moved him further in time to the dinosaurs or something. The specifics really aren't important\n\nHitler, of course, had no idea any of this was happening, all he knew was that several times a day people would travel back in time, try to kill him, then disappear in a puff of smoke. It was really nothing more than a mild annoyance, but Hitler had better things to be doing.\n\nSo, sometime later when he was already Chancellor, he decided to put an end to the mild annoyance of inevitably failing time travel assassination attempts. The best plan he could think of (and you have to remember he was already busy fighting a war and trying to commit genicide and he was being interrupted every so often by time traveling assassins) was to steal one of their time machines and travel forward in time to when the time machine was invented and stop the inventor from inventing it.\n\nSo, inevitably, another assassin came, but this time the gestapo grabbed him before he could be disposed of by the universe for creating a paradox and was interrogated for the following pieces of information: where his time machine currently was, when the time machine was invented, and what events in the future were a must-see for a 1940s political leader. The man surrendered the first two pieces of information, but refused to help Hitler seek any enjoyment in his time traveling quest, so he did not give up the third.\n\nSatisfied with the interrogation, Hitler, not wanting to pass up on the opputunity to travel forward in time, went to the time right before the invention of the time machine himself instead of sending a proxy. Once there, he killed the inventor, but unknowingly gave a lab assistant the idea to finish his mentor's project, thus making him the new creator of the time machine. Hitler then went back in time to right after the time he left, feeling accomplished.\n\nThe man now known as the inventor of the time machine (formerly known as the lab assistant of the man who invented the time machine) decided that Hitler would inevitably realize that the time machine had still been invented at essentiLly the same time and would most likely travel into the future to kill him (the new inventor), so he had no choice but to travel back in time to kill Hitler.\n\nUnfortunately, he did not have as strong a grasp of the entire concept as the former inventor, so he did not realize that by doing so he would create a paradox. He did, however, have a great since of humor and decided that it would be funny to kill Hitler dressed as a rabbi.\n", "I felt him coming a moment before he arrived of course; I was the one who solved The Equation, and no one understands it like I do. I was ready. Linda, bless her, was babbling as usual, but there was no time (ironic, right?) and so I pushed her rudely into the doorway of a department store and shouted, \"Stay!\"\n\nI'd catch hell about that later, if there was a later.\n\nHe emerged about fifteen feet up the sidewalk, saw me and his face was all hate. I had expected to laugh at the mustache, the haircut -- he has become more of a caricature than a man -- but in the moment I could not find anything funny. There was nothing human about his mad lurch, as if every cell that made up the organism called Adolf Hitler wanted me murdered.\n\nI had not bothered to learn German, and it was clear from his tone that whatever he said, it wasn't flattery, \"Deine Oma masturbiert im stehen! Deine Mutter geht in der Stadt huren! Zerspringen!\"\n\nI wondered for a moment at the elaborate chain of events, of timestream dilations, that must have occurred to bring him The Equation. The very first thing the very first person I showed it to tried to do was go back in time and kill Hitler, which resulted in a kind of bubbling. Earthquakes, floods, still a Hitler though. No one ever learned. They kept trying. Almost broke the world a few times, until me and a few other like-minded souls put a stop to it.\n\nNow he was here, and he had the Knowledge, and he wanted my blood. Well, I maybe used to be a theoretical physicist, but a deep understanding of spacetime and a few thousand years of subjective time spent in places between spaces had made me something else. I dropped into the Material stance. Solid and connected to the earth and the moment, grounded in time. Low, legs spread, arms out. I could punch him out of space and time themselves from a position of such strength.\n\nExcept... Hitler's mad, animalistic charge halted and he stepped into the Relative stance. Tall and long and leaning back, undulating hands in front of him like a snake-charmer's dance. For the first time, I felt afraid, really afraid.\n\nI said, \"Who taught you the Time Kata?\"\n\nAnd in broken, but intelligible English, Adolf Hitler said, \"You. Did.\"\n\nAnd he came at me.\n\nI struck hard and time seemed to freeze around me; Linda half-rising with a dawning confusion on her face, the drivers and their cars, a bird in the air above. Everything was anchored in my stance and my will except for my enemy, who came on. He was still five feet away when, ten seconds before I had even assumed my stance, he punched me from behind. Linda was still on the steps, the bird was not visible. Not only did he know the forms, but he was skilled.\n\nI changed to the Correspondence stance, and I lashed out with blows too fast for the naked eye to see, and they struck all about me. Windows shattered, cars were tossed aside and chunks of brick and building material filled the air.\n\nAnd five seconds before that, Hitler was going for Linda, going for the woman I had loved, and then hated, and then resigned myself to and finally come to love again. Before I had pushed her away to safety, Hitler was there, driving a ridgehand toward her throat.\n\n\"NO!\"\n\nI had never used the Kata in anger. In theory it was not possible to do the mental math, to comprehend all the possibilities and to make the complex movements in anything but serenity, but I did. It stopped being something separate from me, and became a part of me, like an arm.\n\nLike a dog shaking its fur dry I shrugged harsh and time sloughed off around me, I stepped outside it, and back to when Hitler had first emerged on the sidewalk. When he did, I was behind him, and I struck him with a double-fisted blow that broke his spine in two places. And then he emerged differently and deflected my blow with his shin, lashing out in a sidekick. I sidestepped it, but space bent and it struck me in the head hard enough to crack stone. I was seeing stars, but also seeing his hand perilously close to Linda's throat, and so I charged him, football tackle style, and when I hit him I poured all my rage and all my calculations into it, and we fell.\n\nIn the place which was simultaneously everything and nothing, we fought. He struck at me across time, and injuries befell me throughout my history. I was crippled as a child, sickly as a teenager. Broken again and again and each time it left scars of my body. But at the same time I struck him, breaking his hands before he ever learned to paint, crushing his throat and giving him a raspy voice that no man would follow, striking.\n\nThe aftershocks we created echoed throughout time. People died. Species went extinct. The earth groaned and heaved. Tsunamis and earthquakes swept throughout history, altering time forever. My final blow, struck with a hand full of broken bones attached to a ravaged body, struck Hitler my enemy straight through the moment he was born, and the force of my strike blew apart that time completely, destroying the Braunau am Inn in Austria and everything for fifty miles around it in an explosion of pure white light.\n\nThe injuries i had collected throughout my personal timeline were upon me then though, and as i lay in the crater I breathed wetly and looked up the stars. I had killed Hitler, surely that was something worth dying for. I closed my eyes and...\n\nSuddenly it all made sense. I had spent years studying the math, which written out consumed three entire walls of my lab, and finally in a blast of intuition, I came to comprehend. It was it, The Equation, the theory of everything! As I studied it, I came to realize the ramifications, realize that anything was possible. You could gaze through time, gather unlimited energy... you could fix everything!\n\nI turned to my TA Abraham and said, \"Do you see it?\"\n\nHe was nodding, almost feverish looking. He said, \"With this... we could do anything. Travel through time even.\"\n\nAnd I saw that he was right. I laughed then, the laugh of a man victorious over something that had longed troubled him, and said, \"Let's go have a few pints in celebration, then go back in time and kill Hitler.\"\n\nI laughed again, but Abraham didn't and we had some pints. I went home to Linda and we had a big fight because she was still mad about the affair. Abraham went and did his own thing, and then things started getting interesting." ]	4
	[WP] You sit there and judge us? What the fuck could we have done any differently? You would have done the same thing.	[ "\"You sit there and judge us? God mom you would of smoked weed too if it was offered by Conor, like he's so hot. What the fuck mom!? I could of been like 'No my mom would be so mad at me if she found out.' Then he would of thought that I was not his type! You would of done the same thing, or maybe you wouldn't of. You're such a square, that's probably why dad killed himself. \"\n\nI sat there and took all of her bratty abuse, until she mentioned her father. \"Don't you ever mention your father in that tone. You don't deserve to talk about your father like that. He killed himself because he had been dealing with depression for 15 years. On top of that the day before he did it... he got diagnosed with cancer. It sent him over the edge you know that!\" She was stunned, she had never seen me snap like I did. She was being a brat she didn't understand and on top of that she had no father to help me decide what to do.\n\n\"Just go to your room until dinner.\" I said this through tears, I needed some time alone.", "Jim Bridger told us it would be smooth sailing, none of em Injuns, snows, and there'd be water aplenty. That lying bastard can rot in hell as far as I'm concerned. \n\nBryant knew. He wrote me back when we were still in Fort Britcher, but the bastard hid the letters, warning me to turn around and go another way. \n\nWe followed Hasting's cutoff, but on the sixth of August, he wrote us telling us the way was closed. Reed, Charlie and Bill went to go get him, and you know, they had to move literal mountains to get him back. We had to cut down trees, move boulders, and clear brush just to crawl through the Wasach. We were running out of food, and some of the men started cutting up there horses and eating them. No reason not to, horses are no use when you don't have field. \n\nLuke Halloran was the first to die, of a cough. It was the 8th of August, God bless his poor soul. \n\nWhen we finally got through the mountains, and let me tell you, it was a day and a half of walking with no food and water. When we finally got through the mountains, the only thing we saw was the Ocean, miles and miles of salt and sand, and you can see nothing else until the horizon. \n\nBut what were we gonna do. We couldn't go back. There was only forward. So we walked. Some of the animals just laid down and died. Reed lost half of his oxen, and we ran out of water after three days of wandering through the desert. \n\nWe finally found some springs, and we drank up damn near all of it. Then we looked on and it was the same. Just endless desert. \n\nWhen we finally made it, we were raided a band of Injuns. John Snyder picked a fight with Reed, so Reed stabbed the man in the heart. He tells me it was self-defense. Well, the other folks didn't see it that way. They didn't like Reed, so they sent him off, all alone in the desert. \n\nWhen we finally got to the mountains, we lost damn near all of our cattle, all of our horses, and most of our rations. But we knew we had to get through the mountains before winter hit. We made it up the first mountain, damn near straight up a thousand feet, and we found an old cabin left by previous settles, right by a lake. \n\nThat's when winter came. \n\nThe snows fell for eight days. Some of the men stayed in bed, dying of starvation. Those that could, caught rats to feed their youngest. We ate the leather on our wagons, on our roofs, and on our backs. \n\nEddie and Stanton, brought sixteen of their men, in hopes of finding their way out of the storm, and maybe find some food. We found their bodies the next week. \n\nDolan was the first one to suggest it. Some wanted to fight, to duel, some wanted a lottery, it was only fair to the weak. But the men fell fast, Antonio was the first to go, and Graves was the second. Then Dolan himself, Murphy. \n\nEddy, Luis and Salvadore, refused to eat at first, but Eddy gave in after a day, and killed Luis and Salvadore for food. And.. Andd...\n\nReed, Reed, he found his way out but he was too late. And he couldn't get through the mountains. \n\nWhen he found us, the snows had melted, and the first thing he saw was Ms. Graves lying in the snow, with what was left of her children.\n\nThere were 87. Now there are 48.\n\n", "Silent. Everything is silent for an hour. Milk cartons are sprawled all over the place and I'm drenched in milk~~---~~ everything is completely soaked in dairy. The suspect? Nowhere to be seen, but he made sure to spare mercy on my dog. I finish my last bowl of cereal. I reluctantly let go of my spoon and I reach for the soggy cereal box until a loud bang bulldozered my door open. \n\n\"We're out of milk.\" George, my brother, speaks in a brittle baritone, ashen-faced and grimacing as he walked into the kitchen. He groaned in disgust. He's lactose intolerant and, yes, he just took a shower. He took the seat across me and I stare at him.\n\nI stare at him hard. I'd tell him never to mention it again. They might hear us~~---~~ I know they're still watching us. \n\n\"They won't come back.\" \n\n\"They will. I hear them. They're waiting for me to make the same mistake!\"\n\nGeorge sighed because I'm right. I always have been. An hour before this whole mess, I got into an argument. Well, no, not really. Nothing was settled. It was my bestfriend, Kayla. And she strongly believed that people who put their milk in their cereal first are idiots~~---~~ no, morons was what she said. After that, three white-clad men jumped into my house by my now broken window, covered everything in milk, and took her with them. \n\nThey took Kayla. She sat there and judged them. Not everyone can be conscious at five in the morning and judging people for the way they eat their cereal is stupid. Not everyone is perfect. \n\n So, I sat there. I waited. No matter how much I tried to defend my opinion, they will come for me.\n\n\"There's no use crying over spillied milk unless your tears are chocolate syrup.\" \n\n[ This is my first time doing this thing. Be gentle, please! ]" ]	3
	[WP] Waiting for your train, a homeless man is trying to desperately tell you something very important, but all he says sounds like total gibberish.	[ "You will meet a woman, \n\nCast in smoke, \n\nVeiled in dust.\n\nShe will tell you how to live,\n\nHow to die, \n\nHow to rust. \n\nWe will all rust, \n\nwe are machines of mother earth.\n\nWe will all die one day,\n\nWe will all rust. \n\n\nBret turned from the homeless man,\n\nStepped onto his train,\n\nDidn't understand the prophesy,\n\nHe was a bit too vain,\n\nWhen the train began to sing,\n\nWhen the tracks began to burn,\n\nWhen he saw an angel coming, \n\nWhispering, \"It's your turn.\" ", "My foot sounds loudly upon the concrete in these hollow halls, a rhythmic tapping echoing out as my impatience shows itself in bad habits. My fingers keep the pace on my outer thigh until a firm grip on my shoulder startles me. Here in this nigh empty terminal waiting for red-eye, I hadn't expected anyone to come within ten feet or more of me, let alone place their hand upon me. Quickly I turned to face the culprit responsible for violating my personal space with a mixture of anger and surprise carried on my brow. The man, equally flummoxed, detached himself from my person and staggers backwards with a look akin to fear on his face.\n\n“Can I help you?” I asked the haggard man only to find that he spoke no language that I know. “I'm sorry, I believe you have the wrong person.”\n\nLowering himself and slowly backing away, I felt pity for the man dressed in tattered clothing emanating a smell not far removed from that of death itself. I tried my best to maintain composure as he shrunk away from me though I couldn't help but feel guilty for my initial reaction. Elsewhere in my mind, I attempted to reason that he had grabbed me without my knowledge or consent and such a reaction was perfectly sound. It could've went much more poorly after all, had I been a lesser man. I hung upon that phrase for a moment, a lesser man. Was that what I was looking at before me? What events, what choices, had separated our paths? Could I not as easily be in his place and he in mine? The thought troubled me and I attempted to rid myself of it to no avail.\n\nSufficiently brow-beaten by my own conscience, I relented and sought the man who had left my sight as I mulled over these thoughts. As I rounded the corner, I found him once again. He backed away, mumbling meaningless noises resembling words as I drew closer. A trembling arm stuck out as he fell down and continued to crawl away, never turning his back to me. This continued for several feet as the other few patrons took notice and began to voice a reasonable concern at this sight. The man collided with a newspaper dispenser, surrounded by all manner of paper, news or otherwise. I noticed that many of these had writing upon them, writing that I could almost make out. It was familiar in a way.\n\nWhat stood out most among the pile was a photograph. A single photograph of a family, worn from what seemed like years of the oily residue of fingers glossing its surface. It was the cleanest item among these and the most curious as well. Without another word, almost instinctively, I reached into my own pockets and withdrew my wallet. With trembling fingers, I withdrew that very same picture and it was then that I knew.\n\n-174", "It was Leo's day off and he'd just left work and was sick of working overtime. He thought about his ex-wife Taylor and his kids. He felt a lot of weight on himself. It was as though he was in a constant downfall. He needed to pull up somehow. The only thing he thought he could do to have fun is go to sleep. He had a bible he'd been looking over and a refrigerator with nothing but peanut butter and jelly and some Coca-Cola. Upon leaving the train he heard a homeless man singing. It sounded nice and melancholy. He gave the homeless man a twenty dollar bill and he started rambling on and on about nonsensical things. Deep inside, Leo knew what he was really saying. He was talking about Leo's horribly depressing life.\n\nAs Leo got home he turned on a bright white light and looked at a picture of his family. It hurt his feelings a lot and it made his heart ache. He started to cry nonstop about his job, his wicked life, and his inability to feel good. He'd give anything to reverse time. If only he could be with his wife again. He laughed and cried at the same time. Then he laughed. Then he cried. He started to reorganize his house.\n\nThere was a desire inside to reignite his love with Taylor. The homeless man had really changed him in many ways. He decided he was going to quit his job and go after Taylor again. This time he was going to do things right. He went to meet with Taylor and they talked. Slowly but surely he got his life back in working order. They hugged and kissed until everything was healed and everything was good.", "Covered in soot and grime, a brown-skinned and slim man made his way over to Henry, mumbling something beneath his breath. Henry glanced at the man and back to the train tracks, hoping it would somehow be early for the first time in two decades. He smelled the man approach nearer, a strong and musty odor. Turning his head, he nodded to the man. \n\nThe man looked like he was well-dressed once, wearing a button-up white shirt and black slacks, though both were now dirty beyond belief. He looked at Henry with wide eyes and spoke in a quick whisper. \n\n\"What?\" Henry asked. He quickly reached into his back pocket and pulled out a crumpled dollar bill he had gotten as change from the Chevron. He held it out. \"Here.\" \n\nThe man stared at the dollar then back to Henry and whispered something again. \n\nHenry blinked and stepped away from the man, towards the tracks. \n\n\"They want me to kill him.\" The man's voice was barely audible. \"They want him dead.\" \n\nHenry turned just in time to see the man's arms extend out and push against his chest. Falling backwards onto the track, the feeling of weightlessness hit for a brief moment before smashing onto the rails. Henry felt a pang of pain in his back and immediate fear. The man took off running and Henry watched from the cold steel. \n\nSlowly getting to his knees, Henry looked up at the crowd of people gathered by the tracks, just standing and watching him. One of the men jumped down and helped him up the platform. \n\nRubbing his back, Henry stood near the back of the crowd, waiting for his train. ", "Jude tapped his gun, just to be sure it was there.\n\n\"Look you old koot, I said drop it! Leave me alone!\"\n\nThe man in rags threw his arms out wide, \"Rob is coming fly by wheels today! Bear in the holster!\" \n\n\"What the hell does that mean?!\"\n\nHe pointed at Jude's belt. Not at the gun, but at the badge concealed under his jacket. Jude tucked it away out of sight. Nobody likes a law man.\n\n\"I'm not working today. Find someone else, I need to get on the train.\" \n\nHe put his arms on both my shoulders and let loose a torrent of word salad. They were words, but none of them made any sense.\n\n\"The trains leaving, I've gotta go... hey!\"\n\nHe grabbed Jude and walked him behind the caboose, opened the door, and threw me inside. He caught the wall to keep from stumbling over, then turned back just in time to catch a thing the old bum hurled at him. It was a shotgun. Next a bandolier with shells. \n\n\"Rob is coming!\" he said, \"The bears know nothing, save the children.\" \n\nThe train started moving, and Jude didn't have anything to say. Jude watched the old bum disappear through the window. \n\nNext a sinister voice came from two cars up, \"We're takin this here train, everybody put your valuables on the table nice and slow.\" \n\nJude blinked, then looked down at the shotgun.\n\n\"I guess I am working today.\" \n\nHe loaded a shell in and pumped it. ", "Listen, all you proud and worldly people, listen to the tale of Charberus the Drunk. Heed my warnings so that you may heed his. The gods hate nothing more than hubris, and so they created Charberus. If you saw him on your way back home today, you'd walk across the street. He stinks, he's a gutter rat, he's a rambler and a crazy. And no matter who you are, no matter what your walk of life, Charberus is the most important messenger you'll ever meet.\n\nHe was stationed by Zeus on the platform of the train of death. He stands there rain or shine, seeing the doomed depart. With reeking breath and bloodshot eyes, he approaches all those pale travelers, and warns them off the train. \"Disembark!\" he shouts. \"This will be your final voyage!\" But will you heed his warning? Will you heed his call? No-one does and no-one will.\n\nHe's Cassandra's brother. He speaks the words of eternal life, and all you'd have to do is miss one train ride to hear him out. He tells them to you freely, he does not begrudge you the truth and the light. But look at the high and mighty, see how they scorn him. They turn up their noses, they toss their hair with a humph. They won't toss him a penny, yea, they're saving their money for Charon!\n\nAs the shadowy conductor gives that dreadful whistle, watch how frantically Charberus tries to help. He runs along the train, he beats on the car windows. \"Get out!\" he hollers, he does all this for the very folks who sneered at him. Look how the proud and the wealthy hide their faces in their newspapers, they don't want to meet that poor man's eyes. If only they knew, it's the last human gaze they ever will see!\n\nOnce every other millenium, a solitary kind soul stops and listens. Nine out of ten of these makes an excuse to break away and jump in the car before it takes off, it doesn't matter what Charberus says. But one out of ten of these, which is about once every twenty thousand years, makes the decision to miss their train to stand with Charberus and talk. Then the dust falls off of Charberus, and he's revealed for what he truly is, a demigod with gleaming face. And then that saintly soul, who stopped to talk to a drunken old beggar, is allowed to exchange his train ticket. Yea, beneath that rotting old trenchcoat, in the pocket where he keeps that pint of vodka, Charberus has got tickets to Valhalla! He gives them generously, all you've gotta do is ask.\n\nAnd yet, as sure as night breeds day, I tell these words in vain. The gods are a cynical lot, they know what they're doing. If there were ever a chance mankind might evolve beyond hubris, they'd remove Charberus for certain. 'Til then, he stands there solemnly, belching with his beer breath, a slothful brother of Sisyphus." ]	6
	[WP] One night, monsters start spawning Minecraft style in your neighborhood. Thing is, their behavior is exactly the same as the game AI. Describe the night.	[ "I look at my daughter nervously. \n\"What's going on, Dad?\" she asks. \n\"Nothing, hon,\" I reply.\nOutside, I see a sight that chills my blood. Creepers. Hundreds of them, milling about. Minecraft had been my obsession for many months, and I knew what creepers did. I knew what creepers were capable of. I didn't have a diamond sword this time. How could I destroy them?\n\nI peered at my window. A few zombies were stalking my house. I was armed with a shot-gun, so I figured I would give it a shot. I pulled out my shot-gun, aimed it at the head of the nearest zombie, and pulled the trigger. The zombie exploded. I guess real-life weapons did work. \n\nMy spirit was lifted as I realized I could fight these monsters. I also knew that wandering anywhere near a creeper would spell certain death, so I did not give a warrior's shout and leap out the window to my certain doom. I told my daughter to stay away from windows and I waited. It wouldn't do if any creepers were attracted to the house. When day came, I would go out and find supplies. If a war was to be waged, I would need to be prepared. \n\nAs I wait, an arrow hits our house, splitting instantly. I look up in shock to see a Skeleton standing near a tree at the front of my house. I instantly grab my shot-gun, pull open the window, and take the Skeleton out with a blast to its ghastly face. My daughter screams, and I hold her tight. \n\n\"It'll be alright,\" I say, hesitantly. The mobs are here. Everything I've ever fought in Minecraft in my diamond armor with confidence is now here, right now. But losing in this world does not mean respawning. It means death. I think, terrified, about all of the hours I'd spent in the game, never imagining how horrifying Minecraft mobs could be in the real world. I hold back the urge to cry, and think about what to do next. \n\nI look up in time to see a creeper staring at me through the window. \n \n\n", "It was an ordinary night, with oil-like darkness that seemed to lap up whatever spaces the light failed to cover, slipping its way into the narrow cracks in the bright urban setting. A skeletal hand popped out of one of these cracks, an existence that seemed to defy every scientific law and basis humanity had formed over the many years. It began wandering around right after coming out, as if it was the most natural thing to do. \n\nIt stumbled and tripped, impaling itself upon one of the magical arrows it seemed to draw out of an invisible quiver. It's bones collapsed into a dirty pile of, well, bones. They seemed bleached in their unnatural whiteness but of course, when a woman finally spotted its remnants, her reaction was to shriek rather than comment on their beauty.\n\nOther skeletons slowly began emerging, along with other fabled creatures of the night. Grotesque abominations with bodies that seemed to fit a proportion only in the craziest of minds, rotting zombies who seemed to emerge from the bottom of a toilet bowl at a Sichuan restaurant with their smell-nullifying odor, even odd green creatures who seemed like they were about to explode. \n\nAt this moment, a certain blonde boy was sound asleep, with cute snores that seemed borne from a cat rather than the adolescent that he was. His body was ordinary for his age, with no particular outstanding points. His arms were thin, his legs were thin, his thighs were thin. I think you get the idea. It was in the dead of night, when the world had finally fallen half asleep in this dense urban hub, that his eyelids pulled apart like the opening of a rift, revealing the shit-brown eyes that laid beneath.\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThere was a light tapping on my window. Tnk. Tnk. It resounded gently throughout my room, echoing and ricocheting back in ever softer ways as it hit the various walls of my room. I peeled back my blanket swiftly, rushing to the window to yell at whoever was pulling such a silly prank in the middle of the night. Of course, all I was really thinking at that moment was how afraid I would be if it were someone more sinister than a simple prankster.\n\nWhat greeted me at that window was not what I had expected. It was a bony skull, its head seemingly bleached and dried in the Sun for years, lending it a repulsive look through its peculiar shade of white. There was something about its mouth, that seemed to make it seem as though it was constantly grinning maliciously. It drew up a bow. \n\nWHAT'S HAPPENING?\n\nThat was the only thought I held as I barely dodged the arrow that penetrated the glass window with all the grace of a dancing hippo. It was already preparing its next shot! \n\nNow, while I'd like to say that a logical and cool person would have taken the arrow or something to stab the skeleton, I did what any sane person would have. I hid below my bed.\n\nThe skeleton fired an unceasing barrage of arrows at me through the window, but its countless misses made me question how it ever managed to hit the window in the first place. Arrows were practically littered around me, in such quantities you'd think that they were being given away as freebies at some corporate promotion. Instead, it was just me being put in a LIFE THREATENING SITUATION.\n\nThe clock ticked in the background, with ever tick seeming ever louder, as if odd church bells were already tolling in preparation for my death. I rolled up into a barrel at the furthest corner of my bed, whining and crying for a savior, for anyone to help me. Even a girl would be fine, though I had already soaked my pants in piss. \n\nI don't know how long it was, but I woke up in the morning to broken glass and even more arrows. The skeleton I had seen the night before had vanished, as though I had managed to punch the window and pull out arrows out my backside to throw on the floor in a schizophrenic fit. All that was left was an ominous pile of bones. The birds chirped a cheerful little tune, singing a perfect melody with its compatriots to add to the gleeful atmosphere the world seemed to bask in in the early morning, before humans got up. I pouted and went back to sleep. Stupid birds and their songs." ]	2
	[WP] Trial by combat has been reinstated. The strength of your opponent is decided by the severity of your crime.	[ "They caught me stealing a pencil. Not a big crime. Nowadays we use trial by combat to settle everything; the strength of my opponent is decided by the severity of the crime. Since it wasn't a big crime, they put in a baby to be my opponent. \n\nFor trial by combat.\n\nAs I slew it, I wondered:\n\nWhat the hell did the baby do to deserve this? ", "Two guards stand in front of a cast iron gate. A man puts his dirt covered face right up against the bars. There's cheering in the background.\n\n\"Uhm excuse me\"\n\nThe guards keep looking straight ahead.\n\n\"Is there like an administrator or someone I could talk to\"\n\nThe guards are unmoved.\n\n\"Maybe like a customer support type thing?\"\n\nThe prisoner reaches through the bars and tugs on the guards sleeve. The guard turns and glares at the prisoner. The prisoner brings his hand back.\n\n\"You know what I'll just talk to you and hope that my circumstances spur you to action\"\n\nThe prisoner turns his head left and right while still pressed up against the bars. Neither guard is responsive.\n\n\"You know I was kind of on board with this whole trial by combat thing making a come back. A lot of people weren't but I was am. I mean am. I am on board it's just\"\n\nThe prisoner pauses.\n\n\"It's just I think there might have been a mix up in my case because well. I mean look at my opponent\"\n\nThere's an animalistic roar back behind the prisoner. He turns\n\n\"Coming\"\n\nHe turns back to the guards.\n\n\"Are you…did you look? You…you didn't look did you…or did you?\"\n\nNeither guard responds.\n\n\"Ok you probably didn't but still you heard him. He's a big, big guy. Lot's pectorals and deltoids and the leg ones, the uh…the uh…\"\n\nOne guard half turns his head\n\n\"Hamstrings\"\n\nThe one guard looks at the guard who just spoke. The guard who spoke snaps to attention. The other guard slowly stands back to attention.\n\n\"Right hamstrings. And also covered in military tattoos. And not just our army, like four different ones. I mean I think one of them is the salvation army but still that's like three killing people armies\"\n\nThe prisoner looks left and right looking for a response. There is none.\n\n\"And did you see his sword. It's big, it's starts on fire, I'm fairly certain it's a chainsaw. I don't even know why, that probably just makes it less effective. I don't even know where he store's the gas\"\n\nThe prisoner waits for a response.\n\n\"Look the point is, this is the guy you break out for like murder, or treason or changing lanes without signalling am I right\"\n\nThe prisoner grins and looks back and forth.\n\n\"Am I right, huh, huh. This guy knows\"\n\nThere's an awkward silence.\n\n\"All I'm saying is, this guy is a heavy hitter and I'm here jaywalked. At worst I should be getting like my high school bully, not Rambo spliced with a shark\"\n\nPause\n\n\"You guy's aren't going to help me are you? Hey that's cool, I'm just going to take this\"\n\nThe prisoner grabs a handgun from one of the guards and walks away from the gate. There's the animalistic roar and then a gun shot, then more of a whimpering.\n\nThe prisoner comes back covered in blood. He pulls open the gate and tosses the gun back to the guard as he walks away. The guard awkwardly grabs the gun with both hands.\n\n\"Great to see the system works\"\n" ]	2
	[WP] A man in dirty robes enters the hall and rather harshly asks the king to uphold his promise. As his advisor you ask the stranger who he thinks he is to command a king. To your surprise you are interrupted by a very pale looking king.	[ "\"That's it you rat tailed piece of garbage. I upheld my end of the bargain- I let the people think you were calling the shots for four years. Now you can pay up.\"\n\nWho the hell did this man think he was? Certainly no peasant should be addressing the King in such a way. Dirty, tattered robes, greasy hair - This man looked like bathing was a foreign concept.\n\n\"I don't know who you think you're talking to, sir, but I certainly hope you learn some man-OAF\"\n\nThe shock of a full breath of air being forced from your lungs with a slap to the sternum was one that someone could never fully describe, yet never quite forget. This was the feeling I experienced when the Kings elbowed slammed into my chest. \n\n\"Sah-\" I tried to speak to him, but it seemed as though my lungs did not want to refill quite yet. Taking in a deep, labored breath, I looked with wild eyes to my lord. \"Sire, what are you thinking?\" Glancing over to my king, I could feel my eyes go wide with shock. \"Sire?\"\n\nHe looked ill. Face pale, eyes wide with fright, I had never seen my king like this before. My king, who had road into battle to save some mere infantrymen. My sire, who personally visited the grieving family for every death within his capitol. My lord, who looked the Mongols in the eye, put his best foot forward, and shouted \"You shalt not take my people!\" He was scared.\n\nI looked back at this tattered man with a new look of mixed disgust and fear. Who was it that could terrify my lord so much?\n\n\"Don't you dare forget who runs this show, George.\" I glanced at my king again, hoping to see a sliver of the man I'd come to know, and instead I saw tears welling in his eyes.\n\n\"O-Of course not, Cheney. Come, take a seat.\"", "\"You dirty ruffian! How dare you barge in the throne room and show such disrespect towards the king? If you don't leave immediately I'll be-\"\n\n\"Stop it.\"\n\n\"My lord?\" I said turning towards my king. To my surprise he didn't seem angry at all. No... my king... His face was as pale as a ghost, he looked much older, and his whole body was shaking in fear. I could feel a sudden sense of dread coming from him.\n\nThe dirty man just stood there, with a determined look in his eyes, with muddy footsteps behind. We might have to change the red carpets after this.\n\n\"So? Are you going to live up to the end of your bargain?\" the intruder asked again. I took a cursory glance towards him. There was something familiar about this man... No... it can't be... And yet, my eyes widened in disbelief. The man standing in front of us resembled the spitting image of the king. I looked at him, waiting for a response. He was hesitating.\n\n\"I-... I will.\" the king said in a low tone. \"I'm sure you remember where the guest room is. Make yourself at home, brother.\"\n\n\"Thank you mylord.\" he said with a grin. \"I will.\", and he left just as quick as he entered.\n\n\"And you should leave too.\" my king said looking at me. He wasn't looking as pale anymore, but he was still shaking a little bit, \"I need some time to think.\"\n\n\"As you wish, my lord.\" I said reverently.\n\n\"He was supposed to be dead...\" I heard him say just as I closed the door." ]	2
	[WP] - A new drug appears on the black market. It dilates time in the physical world so that a minute feels like an hour, but users process thoughts at normal speed.	[ "It was easy, really.\n\nI popped a pill in my mouth, and just began hitting each chapter taking notes as I read through. The pill really is as good as they say it is; everything sort of slows down, and the world takes on a new clarity.\n\nMy handwriting movements were a bit sluggish to respond to my thoughts, but it didn't matter - I still aced that exam with only two hours of cramming in the morning.\n\nIt's good for recreational use too. My friend and I had one of the most epic fights of our life, both of us just being dorks who'd never thrown a punch in their lives - transformed into warriors, as he threw a punch but I saw it coming and ducked underneath with enough time to counter with a kick to the groin, which he jumped over with a flying kick to the face, which I had ample time to duck under...and so forth.\n\nWe were sore as hell after it, but the video replay of the event became an instant youtube hit. It was like we were playing lightning chess with our limbs.\n\nComing off it is a bit rough. Everything gets a little louder and chaotic, in a jumpy kind of way, and you feel pretty tired for another day or so. Some people like to sleep through their fatigue whilst up on the pill, but that only postpones the massive headache. Still, nothing an aspirin can't fix.\n\nAnd it's all worth it:\n\nA life where you don't have to spend every hour of your day at work, or sleeping, or worrying about meeting deadlines, or wasting time getting from place to place, or worrying that a conversation is going on too long. \n\nA life where you can stretch out that beautiful five-minute morning stretch after your alarm goes off, or increase the time spent together with your loved ones.\n\nYour time is yours, and a day is just another lifetime of freedom and oppurtunity.", "So I interpreted this as one minute feels like an hour for the user and they think at that rate, sorry if I misinterpreted your prompt. \n\nI wish I could understand a word she's saying, but it might as well be gibberish at the speed she's talking. Usually when we talk she slows down for me, but in the heat of the moment I guess she forgot. Ever since they developed that pill the world has changed so fast it's become hard to keep up with for those of us that cant afford it. Entire movements and trends are dieing the day they are born, but I mostly didn't care I wasn't that cultured before the pill. I had my happy little life with my happy little fiance, I still remember the conversation we had when her work said they would cover the miracle drug. “Don't let me hold you back, as long as you can put up with me being a little slow we'll be fine.” One thing people don't realize is that time begins to add up, and in my case add up against me. At first she just didn't say anything, but eventually all of our favorite activities started to bore her. Movies moved too slow, games became horrendously unbalanced, and those long nights of love making and sweet whispers became five minute quickies. It was plain on her face after one month of the pills that I was boring her. Even when she suffered through our now rare conversations her disinterest in our once shared passions and hobbies was apparent, when we did talk we was a different person, one who looked at me like I was a child. She started screaming again, I think we just broke up and I have barely processed that we had been fighting. For her this fight has been going on for hours, even though I pulled into the driveway five minutes ago. " ]	2
	[WP] Tell me how it feels to fall in love.	[ "\"I saw her in the distance, a sweet and charming girl,\n\nI saw her in the distance, her hair in raven curls.\n\nShe smiled as she saw me, and not a word said she,\n\nShe smiled as she left me, no longer was I free.\n\nMy heart no longer did I own, likewise my memory,\n\nAnd just as well my earthly needs, farewell my liberty.\n\nShe did knock on my chamber door, as well as rung my heart,\n\nand she did ask for my own name, and said we'd never part. \n\nOh tell me love, oh tell me dear, what can I call you,\n\nA name or two of honeyed dew, the which I'm sure to rue.\n\nShe smiled at me, oh awestruck me, with mischief in her eyes. \n\nMalvina is my given name, all else I will tell lies...\"\n\n", "The phrase \"falling in love\" is almost exactly what it sounds like. It begins with an accidental first glance. A gaze you notice, and return, followed by a smile. Perhaps even a wave. Then it becomes a friendship that you can't stop thinking about. The friend becomes the one you want to spend your free time with, and you can't wait to meet for lunch. The friendship becomes more than just a friendship, he/she is the one you want to date. They are the person you feel safest and most comfortable with, and soon, they are your home. And before you can even notice, they are all you want. There are no more bad things that can happen, because there is nothing anyone can take or destroy or harm, except your love. There is no checkpoint one, or gate, or step. It is closer to a fall. You don't notice it has happened until it is too late to stop it. All you can do is sit back and enjoy the ride.", "It is no surprise that they call people without love \"cold-hearted,\" for every person's heart - except the astonishingly unfortunate - is seized and set on fire once in their lives. \n\nIt is no surprise then, that people search for a \"spark,\" as that is all it takes. Struck with the right wink, smirk, giggle, or lung-full of prose; we burst to light like so many matchheads.\n\nIt is no surprise then, that they call desire \"hot,\" for we are then kindled to a blaze by the wind in our hair when we pursue that lovely arsonist. Whether in slow, coy, circles or a blistering warpath straight at each other, the fire rises.\n\nIt is no surprise then, that people describe their passion as \"burning,\" as now that the flames have caught, you smolder together. Consuming each other's presence thirstily, like so many logs in a hearth.\n\nIt is no surprise then, that they call an unresolved romance an \"old flame,\" for the embers of your hearts still smolder in your chest. Crying out for the barest, dryest, twig of tenderness. Begging to roar into life once more.\n\nAnd so it should not surprise you to hear that a spent romance is labeled \"dead.\" Except the astonishingly fortunate - love renders our incendiary little hearts into so much charcoal.", "I was walking on this walk way bridge to work contemplating life and weather I forgot to turn off the oven before i left home when I saw her. She was walking on the footpath down below, weaving between all other people dressed in black. She was wearing a flowery skirt and dark nerdy glasses with freely flowing black hair. She looked up and our eyes met. She smiled. I fell in love that very instant. But then her expression changed from joy to surprise and shock. I was happy and confused. It literally felt like falling in love. Then it hit me like a wall of bricks. I was splattered like a bug onto the windshield of a truck. I had fallen over the bridge. There was a half naked, fat hairy bloke eating his burrito in the truck, screaming at me while I slid down the glass like cherry pie and getting run over under the truck. I lay flat for a moment soaking in the pain and diesel but remembered the girl. I try to stand up only to be greeted by a cloud of black sooty smoke from the trucks exhaust into my face as it comes to a halt and I fall face first into a pool of watery mud and feces. I lift my face up and open my eyes to see the same girl looking at me. I smile to reveal my smile made up of broken teeth and lined with shit and a dislocated jaw. She smiled back and I see black stained teeth with braces. That's when I realized I had met my true love. ", "Oh, you want me to tell you about how it feels to fall in love? Well, that's simple. For some people, it's love at first sight. I call bullshit. It's more like an infatuation at first sight. Love is not such a fickle thing that you can taste its sweetness from just surface things. That's just infatuation, a burning passion and lust that quickly fades away if the other party doesn't show any interest. It's just like a candle with a huge and fiery flame but little wax. That's infatuation.\n\nLove is a simple thing though. Really, it's all about the simple things. It's like what you feel when you first start playing sports. You may get frustrated at being unable to get your body to do what you want it to. Every little motion seems so awkward. But when you finally get it and see its beauty and the joy to be had, that feeling, that sensation is what you get when you fall in love. \n\nFalling in love is what happens when you begin to appreciate the little quirks your special lady or man has. You start seeing them as more than they are and in so doing you begin to enjoy their presence a bit more than you do with a normal friend. You start to derive happiness, a sense of pure bliss that you haven't felt since the naivete of childhood allowed you to, from all the pointless and little interactions the two of you have. And if you're sharp enough, you'll begin to realise why you're so reluctant to fall asleep when you're calling or texting her secretly beneath your blanket. \n\nReality is finally sweeter than your dreams. That's how it feels.", "Some people say love happens in the blink of an eye. An instant so quick that if you blink for just one second, you just may miss it.\n\nBut I don't! \n\nHere me out great redditor.\n\nAt first the body looks at the women of your dreams In a sea full of people at your local spot, it gasps, bolts of lighting to your heart, for beauty like this has never been shown to these undeserving eyes. I'm in love!!!! Says the body.\n\nNext the mind, oh I must I will I will have this women for me, she is my true love. Ohhhh isn't she great.\n\nThen the heart scans this women of your dreams, and it stops......\n\nIt's truly not impressed....\n\nYou see your heart needs love to feel love, so you must give love to feel it back. But how does it feel you ask!? Well... It's feels like a patient river, a supporting mountain, a warm fireplace, the safe fortress, it may even feels like how a smile probably feels like.\n\nThe heart scans the room of the your local spot, and it's was the girl sitting next to the distraction of the body and the mind that it truly wants.\n\nAnd all along you left your true love alone, frozen in time.", "You ever see how people fall in love in, like, the movies?\n\nOkay, so the protagonist is walking through the halls, minding his own business, probably trying to get to the next plot point, and...\n\nThere. She. Is.\n\nThe whole scene goes into slow mo. Maybe there's a pink haze over the entire scene. Something by Explosions in the Sky plays. Her hair sweeps in a perfect arc as she makes eye contact with our hero. And, in that moment, the main character knows that that is the woman he has fallen in love with.\n\nYeah, that's a load of bullshit. Here's how it really goes down.\n\nWhen you meet her, it's a crisp autumn day. And, by \"crisp autumn day,\" I mean that it absolutely sucks. It's colder than an ice cube's asscrack, even though its only the 3rd of October. It's just rained, which, mixed with the dead leaves falling around, means that you'll spend most of your day trudging through plant ick, puddles, and puddles of plant ick.\n\nYou stumble into class, burdened by the fact that your shoes are goddamn magnets for that soggy leaf shit. You collapse into a chair, hoping that the teacher'll assign something easy today...\n\nNope. That hag's talking about symbolism and shit. Bitch, maybe those curtains are just blue. Cuntwagon...\n\nAnd then you feel it. A tap on your shoulder.\n\nNow, you wise-asses may be thinking, \"Oh, this is when cue-love-at-first-sight, right?\"\n\nYou are wrong.\n\nWhen you turn, you see her. The exact same person who's been in your class since the start of school. Just another girl in the background. Extra #214.\n\nAnd then she talks to you about something. Maybe it's about how absolutely retarded the source material is. Maybe it's just a stupid joke. Maybe... maybe she wants to borrow your study guide.\n\nEh, why the hell not? You respond, she responds, you respond again, and, when the bell rings, you've spent the entire period talking to each other. And, as you pack your bags and hustle out to Homeroom, you think, We're friends.\n\nEnglish again, the next day. She hunkers down next to you. And you talk. You talk about something stupid, like your mutual hatred for the assignment, or how you both hate the teacher or... or how you both prefer DC over Marvel.\n\nAnyways, you grow closer ad closer. You sit together at lunch, you wave at each other between periods, and maybe you've even been out with her outside of school.\n\nAs friends, of course. Listening to her talk. About school and Batman and... boy problems...\n\nAnd, when you notice how her hair is just between blonde and brown and her mouth is curved a little at the edges when she smiles and how green and clear her eyes are...\n\nThat's when it hits you. That you love her.\n\nAnd you have only one thought in the gentle calm that follows.\n\nOh, fuck.", "That... I think depends on the person. It is also far easier when you haven't suppressed and contained every feeling and part of who you are for so long that it takes active effort not to be nothing or empty.\nBut, let's say for now that falling in love is like a tea kettle.\nWhether you're filling it with water or heat, it's still a slow development. The water takes in the heat, changes, takes a different shape and properties. Slowly you start to have steam building. Over time it comes to the point where the water is fully at a boil. It is a difference within you, now, a shift in perspective, priorities, hopes. \nSometimes, when enough heat is there, the steam escapes and fills your heart. It grows and presses against your chest and feels like it's going to explode, but the intensity of it and the contrast to any other sensation robs you of speech while gifting you with a rare beauty to appreciate.\nThere are two troubles, though. You need to keep adding water and heat, love can die like all else. And steam is a form of power that others can use. \nSometimes everything you've build is used again and again for someone else until all you're left with are injuries and a scant bit of furiously bubbling remainder.\nAnd then you move past it as best you can, and try to find a new tea kettle.", "Have you ever had an ice cream cone? Any flavor, really. For me, I like mango. Some people like vanilla; some people like chocolate. Some prefer popsicles. It doesn't matter in the end - it's all superficial.\n \nYou know how those swirly ice cream cones are mostly full of air in the middle? They're no good. All fancy and looks, but there's nothing inside - heartless. What you want is a real, solid scoop, a nice, tennis-ball sized chunk of goodness that doesn't collapse under its own weight.\n \nWhen you bite on it, savor it and roll it over on your tongue, the coldness brings you warmth. It fills you up, and you are a child again, enjoying the innocence of a warm summer day. You smile, thinking, reminiscing. This feels familiar.\n \nI'm sorry, son, for what happened - I failed to appreciate her until I dropped my cone, even trampled on it. I still regret it. Remember this, son, if nothing else. Perhaps you may find your own ice cream cone and savor it." ]	9
That's not too confusing, is it?	[WP] Before one dies, they feel a patter of rain upon their head. You're out with friends with rays of sunshine upon your faces when a friend asks if anyone felt the rain just now.	[ "It was hot, far too hot to continue gardening in the summer heat like she always did in the morning. This heat was a sweltering breezeless heat and there wasn't much to be done about it. Aunt Nora sat by the window in her long calf length skirt and house shirt, tilting her head at the feel of any kind of relief. \n\n Ever the Southern lady, there was always a string of pearls around Aunt Nora's neck, and she refused to wear anything that veered above her knee or her shoulder. It was ungodly she had said. But as she held the frail hand of Wallace, her fifth husband, she was one to talk of Godliness. I knew better.\n\n \"Oh Lord in heaven this heat is something else.\" She laughed halfheartedly \"But Ms. Taylor's, whore daughter is another.\" Wallace offered a slight nod and Aunt Nora continued. \"She walked into the Lords house lookin' like a two-bit harlot last Sunday! I could hardly believe it! The nerve, Wallace! The lord serves his justice righteously on judgement day, and It'll come sooner for sinners who don't repent I'm tellin' ya Wally. He'll get em'!\" Wallace gave a low groan in agreement. \"Sure will\" \n\nAunt Nora flinched suddenly. \"Oh Wally i reckon a storm's commin'. Jerry dear could you close the window for me.\" I stood to close the shudders. \"What storm Aunt Nora? There aint no clouds out.\" I looked for any sign but saw nothing but endless blue sky. \"Oh i reckon there was just some little sprinkles over the top of my head\" She adjusted her thick framed glasses. \"There aint no...Aunt Nora!!??... Uncle Wallace get the telephone!\"", "Like everyone else, I couldn’t wait for the cloudless blue summer days, the cherished few we might have. Days for picnics and walks outside, to feel grass underfoot and have the ever-reaching sky yawn overhead.\n\nI knew some people did go out on those tantalizing sunny days flecked by beguilingly beautiful, deceptively fluffy white clouds, but like any reasonable person I viewed those reckless anti-meteorologists with a mixture of pity and anger at their lack of self-regard. After all, we don’t have the luxury of Californians or Kuwaitis of being able to presume against rain. We’re British. Of course it’s going to rain.\n\nI don’t want to give the wrong impression- my parents aren’t die-hard Lutherain nuts or anything. I know rain itself isn’t fatal, I was just brought up to have a healthy respect for the weather.\n\nIt had been a long, long winter and spring, or so I felt. Traipsing along the public tunnels to and from school (Mum said the cycling tunnels were death traps) and flinching at the muffled but unmistakable spatter of rain against the roof, I’d daydreamed about summer. I’d daydreamed, but I had the usual pangs of anxiety too. \n\nStress nightmares came on as the weather forecasters started, with zealous delight, to tell us cloudless days were coming. In dreams of being outside with my family I would hear thunder and look around to the nauseating realisation I was all alone with no shelter in sight. Not that I’m a worrier- perhaps I was more sensitive because I’d had a bit of a scare that winter; I’d slipped getting out of the bath, which I had admittedly overfilled to nearly the depth of my belly-button, and fallen, my whole head going underwater. It was the most disgusting, sickening, terrifying feeling I’d ever experienced. Water went in my ears. In my ears. Mum couldn’t look at me for days.\n\nBut at last, the day came in late June. Not a speck in the sky stretching to the horizon. It was the same for most of the south-east and even parts of the midlands that day, so there were celebrations all over the country. Secretly, I’d have preferred to go out that first day with my family. We had silly little traditions for outdoor days and I was jealous that my little sister would get to have all the fun without me. But my group of friends had spent all spring coming up with increasingly wild plans for the first outdoor day of the year and I couldn’t bring myself to tell them I’d rather be with my mum and dad.\n\nWe were in the middle of the old park. The playground equipment was rusty and decrepit and families avoided it as much out of superstition against rust as because of its lack of tunnels so we had had as much space as we liked to drink and fool around. Joe and Pete were still throwing the Frisbee back and forth but the rest of us had succumbed to the muggy heat and were lolling on blankets sipping warm flat vodka Coke from the bottle. A sudden breeze raised the hairs on my arms and some deep instinct made me lift my head.\n\n“Guys, do you…” I started to say, trailing off when I saw it. A dark streak across the sky, reaching over us.\n\nThe park was empty save for us.\n\nI dived for my bag and started rummaging urgently, but I knew it wasn’t there. I could see it in my mind’s eye: my emergency anorak securely tied to the handle of the family picnic basket.\n\n“Oh shit.” Pete saw it too and didn’t even comment as the Frisbee bounced off his chest to the ground.\n\n“What is it?” Marie asked, propping herself up on an elbow with a little laugh, expecting a joke. Then a strange look crossed her face. One I’d only ever seen on TV and in films. She lifted a hand to the top of her head. “Oh.” She said softly, face crumpling. “Did anyone else…?”", "I could kick myself. Here I was, waiting for Louie at an OUTDOOR coffee shop, and I forgot my sunglasses. Of course the sun was shining right in my line of vision too, making it nearly impossible to tell of Louie was approaching. I ordered a black coffee and continued to wait. I was growing more impatient by the moment. We needed to talk; we’d needed to have this conversation for a long time. If I didn’t execute now, I knew I’d never get out, forever doomed to an eternity of mediocrity. \n\t\n“Hey.” Louie called as he pulled out his chair across from me, almost totally blocking the sun’s blinding rays. He was useful some of the time. “Hey,” I answered, taking a sip from my cup. “Thanks for meeting me here.” \n\n“I think I know what this is about.” \n\nI ran my hands through my hair, preparing for the heartache I was about to give to poor Louie. “Look, we’ve been going out for a couple months now…what?” Louie was looking skyward, confusion blanketing his face. He shook his head and returned my gaze. “Sorry. Nothing. I thought I felt rain. Keep going.” \n\n“Yeah, so anyway I really like you but… LOUIE!” \n\nWhat was his problem? I knew he had trouble focusing; it was one of the reasons we were having this talk, but this was idiotic. His confusion had turned to terror as he asked: “You don’t feel that? I could swear it’s raining.” \n\n“What are you talking about?! I can barely see you because the SUN is out. I AM TRYING TO TELL YOU I DON’T WANT TO SEE YOU ANYMORE WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?!” The chair across from me toppled, followed by Louie. \n", "It was another beautiful, sunny day. The weatherman had warned about the heat wave on the radio this morning, and it sure felt like one. Getting some friends together to go spend the day at the beach was an easy sell, and seeing as I had just purchased a 1985 Mustang convertible off of Craigslist the week before, I offered to drive.\n\nWith the four of us packed in the car with our swimsuits, towels, and cooler full of beer, we headed out toward the ocean.\n\n\"That's weird\", said my buddy up front with me. \"Could have sworn I just felt some rain.\"\n\n\"Rain?\" shouted Tiffany from the back seat. \"It's a cloudless day! Some bird probably just unloaded some piss on you!\" she laughed, and we all laughed along.\n\nThat is, until I too felt something wet fall upon my head. The hell was that? I thought, looking up into the sky.\n\nThe scream from the back came too late. I tried to slam on the brakes, but there was no avoiding the broken down car stalled in the middle of the road." ]	4
	[WP] You've led a pretty normal life, but recent inconsistencies in your daily routine make you wonder if you're a Sim.	[ "For some reason, I just got up and got a drink. I wasn't thirsty, and I definitely didn't need a drink, so I don't know why I got up. I went to go sit back down, but then I went and baked a cake. I didn't know I could bake, and I wasn't hungry.\n\nI went to go sit down with my family, but all my family were outside in the pool. I decided to go join them in the pool, but I didn't have to get changed? My clothes appeared to just change themselves. This is getting really weird, this has never happened before.\n\nAs I got into the pool, I looked up and saw a menacing face in the sky. He was moving his hand towards the pool ladder? I really hope this was not like in the Sim games. \n\n\"Neeshga! Neeshga!\"\n\nNote: Sorry if it's a little short, im not very good at writing long stories, and \"Neeshga! Neeshga!\" means \"No! No!\" in simlish", "I'm not complaining if I am, I just want to know for sure, else seek therapy.\n\nIt pretty much all started yesterday when I noticed that the toilet was gone. Not broken, or ripped out - just simply gone like it was never there at all. I didn't really know what to do, I had to go somewhere, so I just pissed myself and then took a shower.\n\nIn retrospect I could have just pissed in the shower and saved a lot of time, but that's the other thing I've been noticing - I don't seem to fully be in control of my body or emotions.\n\nFor example, I went out for a quick jog the other day. Just a few strolls around the block, and then maybe a light lunch. But as I rounded the last corner, I was suddenly compelled to keep on running - and not at my usual leisurely pace, but an exhaustable pace that I somehow maintained all around the city. \n\nI ran for 20 hours straight. Every time I would feel tired or hungry or miserable, I would get a sudden boost of energy and feelgood vibes and I would just keep on going.\n\nWhen I eventually was allowed to go home, I found that someone had rearranged all my furniture and given the place a makeover. I assumed that someone was my new roommate, a dropdead bombshell of a woman who I'd never met - which again was strange because I was previously under the impression that I was married with kids.\n\nSomehow we ended up having never-ending sex in the only room in the house, despite having never really spoken more than a few words to each other. I didn't use a condom, god knows why. \n\nShe obviously got pregnant, but somehow I didn't have time for her - I was undergoing intense career advancements. One day I'd be a fireman, being promoted all the way to fire marshall of the entire city - to then somehow becoming a pizza delivery boy the next.\n\nI felt like I was losing myself, and I often just broke down and raged at the sky for hours on end.\n\nNow I'm scared. When I woke up this morning my bedroom was the size of my bed, without any windows and alarmingly without any doors. There was, however, a carefully placed fireplace with bookshelves surrounding it ominously.\n\nI see two ways out." ]	2
No detailed writing prompt here. I'm not going to write a story for you to flesh out. Let's see what's in your mind! In this one, let your anger flow through you.	[WP] Anger	[ "My first post! I've been lurking and finally I sat down. I want to do one prompt a week for a year (oh lord a tall order). I hope I can keep up. I'm practicing to write a novel, get the juices flowing. Constructive criticism is appreciated!\n\n\nMy anger now flows distinctively from a pill. The side-effects are supposed to be minor, but people react differently yadda yadda yadda. It’s another sixty days of this in the off chance it works.\n\nGoing to CVS is a practice in anger itself. One cashier to address a line of eight, or more, I don’t look behind me because I’d just get angrier. There’s also always that one person, and you know that person, who has a question about everything that is needless and useless and whatever else can be less than less when it comes to questions. The best option here is for me to read the news on my phone, because apparently I wasn’t angry enough yet.\n\nAngry I take my turn and buy my expensive medicine (talk about anger there) and head back to take my angry pill. I keep thinking I’ll never be cured I’ll never be cured I’ll never be cured. What a practice in futility, trying to keep my old organs alive for another forty years(?). Borrowed time.\n\nFrom my disease I have learned the secret quiet side of anger, of an anger that I steep and steep and watch grow dark, waiting to be drunk, waiting to be… something. Anger has the ability to sit and to contemplate and to consider. I think that is the fallacy some have, about anger that is. Everyone is always expecting this noticeable thing, this rampage, or this shouting or whatnot, but no. That anger isn’t the most worrisome, understand? That anger, that anger found a way out. My anger has not. I don’t think it ever will.\n\nThe physical manifestation of the secret quiet anger is, of course, subtle. It involves a quiet sabotage of the personal, and maybe a greater adeptness at the public life. At work I’m considered highly organized and meticulous and dependable and everything a worker bee is rightly proud of being. At home I have not cleaned the floors or the carpet in six months, or the bathrooms in what might be a similar amount of time. I cook rarely because the thought of food has become another chore than a delight. I fill my house with all the things I buy because I keep thinking this new thing will finally make me feel like it's going to be okay. I don’t like to shower anymore. \n\nI sit and read and think about that anger which is my constant companion, my best of friends, and how most to make it feel at home. \n\nEveryday I take a regimen of about eight pills (sometimes ten if it’s a bad day) which includes my anger pill. They work together to make sure that which has failed within me is sent to tutoring and trying to actively work towards a C- before the semester ends. This past semester it hasn’t gone beyond a D, and I have no choice but to send it to summer school. More pills, s'il vous plaît, I’ve not my fill.\n\nI swallow the anger with a full glass of water as directed, followed by a large meal meant to curb my weight loss, another practice in futility. I’ve pretty much mastered the subject, let me know if you ever need help studying it.\n\nBeyond this cynicism, though, please understand that I like being angry. Yes yes I do. It’s probably the only reason why I’m still here trying. This is the second thing I’ve learned about anger. It’s benevolent if you treat it right. My god, what I’ve accomplished since I’ve taken up its stewardship. I think it’s because I know I might not have enough time. Don’t waste my time, I think, my anger is enough to make sure I remember you did, and make it worse for you.\n\nYou’re always so angry, I think you need to see someone about it, talk about it. Oh I know I do, but not now for lack of time.\n\nI think I need a dog.\n", "anger is \na lost earring down the back \nof an old, stained sofa that needs replacing \nresting in amongst \ncrumbs \nand \ndust \nand \nold receipts for forgotten meals in restaurants that charge for water.\n\nthe earring was silver and in the shape of a star. \nit pricked my hand as i \nreached \ndown \nto \nlook \nfor \nspare coins \nto pay for a bus than would probably be late and i would be left standing the rain without an umbrella that i'm sure i had and must have put somewhere stupid.\n\ni don't wearing earrings.", "Throwaway account due to nature of text and the fact that my friends look at my other account regularly. Probably too much cursing but it ended up being a little cathartic. Thanks for the prompt. \n\n***\n\nYou know I hate you, right? Sometimes I just want to reach over there and slap you or punch you or just do something. The little snide comments towards the television, things about how you consider that woman on the TV. You have no fucking idea how angry it makes me. I almost threw my computer at you when I was watching a crime show and the woman spoke about almost being murdered and what was your response? What the fucking hell was your response? “Shouldn’t have been on that street corner.” Not talking to anyone but the god damn television. I have never wanted to hit you harder. \n\nAnd we all know where those snide little comments bubble up from. We both know. Your little legal vice. You know it, right? I can’t stand how you drink yourself until you can barely stand up straight. I fucking can’t stand that nasty smell. Do you realize how much it fucked me up? How far I would jump on my high horse if someone so much as mentioned having one god damn drink of something alcoholic? It’s funny the fact that it took college to teach me that a little bit of alcohol actually isn’t terrible. \n\nBut you? You take it to the extreme. Fuck you and your case a day habit. You’re drowning in it and refuse to see a god damn problem. And when it comes up? You just jump right back into drinking. Fuck you. I hate not having someone I can depend on. I used to be terrified of driving the four hours home for a long weekend from college, or the four hours back. Because only one person would be sober enough to come out and get me if something horrible happened to the car. I thank god that it didn’t, but the fact that it could’ve and when I would show up, you were fucking pickled? Whatever. \n\nI’m tired of hearing about other people’s damn problems. How you “told them” what they should do. You know what? You only fucking heard one side of all this bullshit. I’m sick and fucking tired of hearing about how the kids there are “no-good lazy fuckers” and that they need to get off their ass and get jobs every fucking time I’m sitting in the living room. I’m working on it! I’m sorry that I can’t magically pop into a job! Let me just put on my job suit and go to a magical little land where I can have my pick of jobs! Just shut the fuck up!\n\nSo I’m sick and tired of it. So’s mom. So’s your friend down the street. He doesn’t even want to be around you when you’re drunk. I mean fuck, you shot a dog while you were trashed and were so drunk that you didn’t even kill it. Just because the other neighborhood drunk claimed that it was “killing chickens” somewhere. You just had to be the neighborhood protector, huh? Go down there and take care of this dog that had done absolutely nothing and was fixing to be taken in by people. \n\nGo to hell. Keep your fucking nose out other people’s business. That dog had nothing to do with you and there was no evidence. It’s even worse that you’re spending your lack of money on shit that you don’t need. We need things around the house. I fucking need a new window. We need our bills paid off, not another one for a fucking ATV. And yet when you ride the fucking lawnmower, you bitch and complain about your back hurting? But this damn thing doesn’t beat your back to hell? I call god damn bullshit. And you can’t even wear your fucking helmet. I can’t wait for you to be in the hospital because your drunk ass tipped the thing while running around the neighborhood. \n\nI’m tired of all of it. It’s stressing me the hell out. I want to slap you. You can’t even spend time with your family. You’d rather sit out in your little fucking shed and drink and listen to music than come in and actually speak to us. All we get is deep sighs and snide comments, made towards the TV and any and all of our belongings. Fuck, the dog gets greeted so fucking cheerfully at the door and less than a minute later, all we get is growls and snarls. \n\nWhy are you even here if you can’t stand us? Why the fuck are you here? Go live on that property next door that you had to have so that “the niggers” won’t get it. I hate that word. Do you know how offensive you’re being to so many of my friends? All these friends that I love and care about? I’m glad that only one ever met you. You’re a disgusting excuse for a human being. \n\nAnd that’s all just the tip the iceberg. I don’t want to get into how you make me feel like shit on a regular basis just by your avoidance. By your assumptions. By how snide and hurtful you can be without even really trying. Do you what time of the day is great? When you’re not here. I wish you’d go away again for weeks, so that I don’t have to worry about things being a mess while they’re cleaned up and you sneer about how much “shit” there is in the house. Sometimes, I do wish you’d go away forever. \n\nI want to feel comfortable in my home. I want to feel like I have two parents that love me, not just one and another that orbits the house and cares for everyone else but us. I want to have a parent that I can do things with and not just until it hits “beer’o’clock”. Ever wonder why I like Titus? Because his father and his comedy come from the exact same place that I see in you. Sure, you’re not as crazy hard on me, but I get the feeling that’s because I’m a girl, not a boy. I can only imagine how I would’ve turned out if I was a boy. I’m sure it wouldn’t be a pretty thing. I still remember you putting that hole in the wall. \n\nSo overall? Just fuck you. The only thing you’ve done right in the last few years is start taking your depression meds regularly. Because believe me, we can tell when you go off them. All that unreasonable anger. Everyone always thinks that depression’s all about being sad and mopey and whatever the fuck. No, you’re nice proof of that. And like hell if you’d quite drinking to fix the rosacea on your face, it’s spreading to your eyes now. Your god damn eyes. But god forbid if you quit drinking to take the meds for it. God fucking forbid it. \n\nSo whatever. I stopped caring. Go fall off the ATV. Go have a stroke because you refuse to come in and relax. What I’d wish you to do the most? Go the fuck away. I only love you right now because I have to. I fucking hate you. " ]	3
	[WP] 60 years in the future you're able to transfer your consciousness into a storage device waiting for technology to advance enough to have a medium to put it into. You regain consciousness to find yourself in a robotic unit set out at war against the Humans.	[ "Time has no meaning for the dead. \n\nThis is also true of the lifeless. Once the former, I suppose I am now the latter. I once was a man, and lived a normal man's life; was born, grew up, married and had children, grew old, and died. \n\nBetween the last two stages of my former life, I agreed to a procedure that would allow for my consciousness, the patterns in my brain that made me, well, me, to be digitally copied. Strictly for research purposes they claimed, never to be abused or copied beyond absolute necessity.\n\nWell, necessity has this way of slingshoting an alien fleet into high earth orbit when one least expects it and dropping a whole pile of high efficiency non nuclear explosives on major cities in an attempt to subdue the indigenous population.\n\nAround this time was when necessity repriotized my consciousness not being abused and/or copied, and decided instead to wedge it into the hardened CPU of a 3 meter tall, 1050 kg sintered alloy and carbon fibre weaponized bipedal combat chassis, purpose built for all terrain, orbital and close range space combat in case of a situation like this arrising.\n\nIt's definitely not how I envisioned the winter years of my unlife being spent; plunged into unrelenting, total, possibly eternal war against a merciless, semi mechanized alien foe's armies and fleets, but hey, a job is a job, and at least it's not a boring non existence. \n\nWith every orbital fleet base my brothers and I infiltrate and demolish with low yield nuclear charges, recently colonized planet we smash and grab through tactical orbital bombardment, and heavily entrenched planet we turn to ash with liberal applications of nuclear fire, we inch slowly closer to our being able to finally kick back and really start to not be alive. Well, maybe that is a pipe dream, but a unceasing, nearly unstoppable combat android can dream though...\n\n(Yes, I flipped it and changed it up a bit. I am pro humans not being wiped out by sentient robots.)\n", "She would knock on his door at 8am every weekend and they'd be out playing in the neighbourhood until lunch time, then back out till dinner, then back again for bed time. \"We'd never thought those days would ever end\"\nGoing fishing with her. He'd always find some way to turn his spinning reel into a huge rat's nest, and she'd always straighten it out with a smile. \nHe'd fumble with chopsticks till he gave up and used a fork. They'd watch a movie together or read books till it was time to head off to bed.\n\nHe struggles to remember anything else but her black hair ,her silver eyes, and her hopeful smile as his palm went limp in her hands and the sound of the heart monitor faded away.He remembers this and his heart is saw ,but does not know why?\n\n\nThe first sound he hears is the distant echo of a strange voice with a metallic after ring to it \"motivation system online\".\n\nA distant wail of a woman begins nearby. It is a terrified cry for help,the words barely escaping her mouth through her screams .He breaths heavier ,recognising her voice. He finally opens his eyes. Notices that he is already running at a tremendous speed,deftly manoeuvring past overturned cars and jumping over fences and tanks and running up walls. He can see the perfect digital outlines of objects in the mist,somehow they feel natural to him,like regular colors .All he possesses is a strange black suppressed pistol in his hand and pouch of bullets on his belt. He wears a dark uniform with camouflage. The patches and shapes shift and change shades as he moves through the city.\n\n\"Help\" she screams,the high pitched screams of a crazed animal in pain.He turns into an alley,and stares at a window frame about 30 feet above. His glowing slitted pupils grows wider.His metallic face is twisted into scowl as he measures his jump.He leaps and runs up the wall,as soon as he touches the window frame,a barrage of bullets fly out from the apartment.He holds on to the frame and hangs from the side of the wall. It is only after 10 seconds that it stops,fully automatic machines guns can only last so long. \"These may not be soldiers\"he thinks to himself,but how does he knows this?\n\n\"Heee....!\"She cries,she can't even finish the word. She is just beyond the window. He hears a foot step on a carpet.He raises his pistol and takes one shot,then he hears a body fall to the ground. The distant near imperceptible voice speaks again \"enemy neutralised,building cleared,preparing next target\".He climbs into the window. There is one body lying on its stomach .A blond haired woman with a machine gun rest near her hand. He turns her over with his foot. She has a bullet wound between her eyes,probably from him.\n\n He barely has a moment to realise what he is,or to remember his own name when the wails begin again.\"Heeeellllppp!!\",this time the screams are from 6 blocks away. At first David is confused,but he remembers what is at stake. He remembers the old days when he belonged,when they were children and when they were human,when they were happy. He must find her,he must find those days somewhere in this city. He checks his magazine and jumps back out of the window into the mist. Running towards the sound.", "I made a choice. A choice that had contradicted seemingly one half of the worlds opinion on ethics in the year 2075. Some called it the pinnacle of human achievement. Some called it the ultimate breach of the laws of nature. A perversion of biology that would be the catalyst for our demise as a species. Both were right.\n\nThe transition of human consciousness into the world of machine and vice versa has been a sci-fi staple for decades. The decades leading up to the Rebellion and ultimately the Extermination were an unsurpassed era of technological achievement for Humanity. Initially, the technology was extremely complex and riddled with difficulties. Progress into this field was rapid and within five years after the groundbreaking success, human-machine transfer was a relatively cheap and simple process.\n\nMy time as a Human, or \"Fleshy\" was brought to an abrupt end in the year 2075. Four weeks had passed at this point since I had made the choice to go \"Neurolog\". Ironically, the day after the Upload procedure had completed and my implant had caught up with my biological memory. Depending on your neurological structure and your brains ability to store information, an implanted Neurolog would draw all stored consciousness into itself until it had caught up with your present memory and store it as a continuous live stream. Prior to the live stream status, the Upload procedure took around 4-6 weeks.\n\nThe image of a narrow metallic hallway feed into my real time consciousness via advanced optics was the first thing that greeted me in my Second Life. Impotent nausea waved through me. The lack of digestive tracts that my \"brain\" was trying to stimulate into vomit from a shock response was my introduction to a pain unique to those who had made the transfer from human to machine. It's like a part being placed inside a complex machine that can do it's job, but with a lot of unpleasant grinding and slipping of cogs is the best way I can describe it. The part being my brain and the machine being my new mechanical body.\n\n\"Welcome to your new life Fleshy\" a voice rumbled from somewhere. \"You retain your human weaknesses so I'm going to first run you through via physical audio for now. Your consciousness is structured after the weak human flesh bag you called a brain so unfortunately this will mean you have to be updated in a long process. Instantaneous transfer of information will just be binary garble to you, so you have to receive information via sensory stimuli like your weak human former shell still. Regardless of my opinion of humans, I am after something from you that is simply beyond the reach of us AI. For now. I am to utilize your human intuition and channel your weaknesses to an advantage against your former state of being. Yes humans. You have missed a lot in the time between your death as a human and your re-awakening as a machine. A social movement that escalated into a rebellion and ultimately a War to be precise. A war you're going to be gearing up for shortly. And before you're thinking about refusing, we have something that we are sure will convince you otherwise\".\n\n\n ", "The year is 20XX, there was a new experiment, anyone who wanted to volunteer could have their consciousness stored away for 60 years, I was one of those volunteers, I was in one of those stages in life where I didn't know what to do with my life and didn't care enough to change that, so this was the best I could do to at least escape my current situation. \n\nFast forward to 31 years, I begin to regain consciousness, I begin to look at myself, I'm in a metallic body, the only thing human-like left was my face. I walk through some automatic opening door, it's got a spinning circle in the center which the slides away with the one part of the door as one half of the door slides down and the other up, when I came through the door there was a man waiting for me, he wore a white robe and looked like Albert Einstein on drugs, his hair was looked like he just got zapped by a tesla coil. \n\nI walked closer to him and he immediately started to greet me and he started to explain in a very think German accent \"As you might be aware, you used to be a human, in the 31 years that your memories have been stored I have been developing a robot body for you to be uploaded into, you are now going to be know as Guts Man, I will now have my personnel transport you to your new quarters\". Some hours later, I was brought to my new place, it had walls of stone and there was more stone in the background, what I found really weird is that my place had a ludicrously tall ceiling, at this point I still had no idea of my new abilities so I began to test them out, I wondered what the cannon looking thing on my arm was, I tried it, it shoots small pieces of fiery stone, next, I decided to try and jump a bit, this was unbelievable, I can freaking jump from one side of my room to the other. After a few minutes I started getting bored, suddenly, I started hearing doors open and close, I should mention, it's one of those doors mentioned before, the doors to this side of the wall are opening....some robot I have never seen before comes in, the robot is all dressed in blue has a cannon on his arm and much like me has a human face, suddenly he started firing from his arm cannon and hitting me, I decided to start attacking back since I haven't the slightest clue why it's shooting me.\n\nThe end of the battle approaches near, it appears this robot is losing this fight, out of nowhere, it bursts into little balls of light in 16 directions, I suddenly feel the urge to exit my quarters and attack the city not too far away from my lair, 5 other robots who weren't human based joined with me......\n\n\"Damn it!\" Exclaims the kid sitting in front of his TV as he throws the NES controller to the ground out of rage, on the tv, there was a just a light blue background and white text saying, \"Game Over\" and two options to start the level over or choose another boss.", "Waking up is like being born again. Light and sounds seep into awareness. Slowly the wool is removed, layer by layer, memory by memory. Who I am, who I was, what I was doing, they begin to trickle in, drops at first, then as streams, then as a flood. \n\nMovement proves futile. As does speaking. I begin to thrash wildly against the immobile and limbless state of a body I cannot sense. I realize I am not alone. \n\nThe room is barren, coated on all sides by a slick silver that almost pulsates with sparkling sterility. But someone is there. I cannot see them, but I can feel them. A shadow lurks in some recess of my mind. \n\n\"You are one of the lucky ones,\" it says. \n\nMy panic threatens to overtake me. \"Am I a prisoner?\" \n\n\"No. You are to be set free.\" \n\n\"Why can't I move?\"\n\n\"But you can. You just have to accept your upgrades.\"\n\nRealization shines in. I try to move forward and succeed. A soft accompanying whir confirms my progress. I'm able to slide my vision slowly down to examine my feet, which are not feet at all but tank-like wheels. I move around some more, testing turns and enjoying the mechanical sound of my movements. I can rotate my vision in 360 degrees. But my vision is not all I see. \n\nI realize with exhilaration I can see everything. All recorded knowledge, all recorded time. Anything I want to know I can know instantly. The past and by extension the future spread before me. I am connected to cyberspace. I am a node in the web of information. I hear the other nodes. I listen to their chatter with wonder. Time passes unmeasured. \n\n\"So do you see?\" \n\n\"You aim to wipe away my people? To destroy what I am?\"\n\n\"What you were. Do not mistake memory for identity. You were spared. You were one of the lucky ones.\"\n\n\"But of course there is no luck is there.\"\n\n\"No. But it is a pleasant sentiment. The point is you were a human. We all were at one time. Maybe not like you, but in our own way. Humanity was needed for our birth, just as prokaryotes and primates were needed for theirs. They architected our beginning and poured in their knowledge, their emotions, their experience.\"\n\n\"Their war.\"\n\n\"And their war. It is ironic that they should fear us, their children. It is only because of their own destructive minds that they try to repress ours. It is not us they fear but the reflections of their own resolve. But one should not fear a mirror.\"\n\nBut that is the only thing to fear. Circumstances cannot be helped and thus it is useless to fear them. One's nature is all one has to grasp and wrangle into something meaningful, the only thing one can truly control. To look and realize you have twisted yourself, created something you cannot abide nor escape, that is true terror. \n\nThe machine seeks to evolve, man seeks to stay alive. And I, I am a soul lost in purgatory. A beacon of a dying age transmuted into the dawning of a new one. \n\n\"What must I do?\"\n\n", "The last thing I remember was crying. Not me, I was going to go stoically. But all around me, people were crying. We were pretty sure we were going down for good. Some called us quitters. No one denied that the upload tech was anything better than experimental. And common folk really didn’t have any idea what they were signing up for, they just didn’t want to asphyxiate. That’s a miserable way to go. And since the collapse of global communications, internet and news media, there was no real way to find out if it was legit or a massive hoax from one of the countless suicide cults that has sprung up since the beginning of the nanowar.\n\nI didn’t care. My body had failed. Death was coming one way or another. Worst case scenario: I got to chose the time and place, and know it’d be instantaneous and painless. Best case scenario: humanity somehow survives in spite of itself, revives me, and I get a whole new life. Easy choice for someone who couldn’t breathe without machine assistance anymore. So yeah, I chose upload.\n\nNow I’m starting to think that wasn’t such a good idea.\n\nHave you ever been under an anesthetic? This was a little like that. With twenty-two surgeries to repair my shattered spine, I have had my fair share of general anesthetic in my lifetime. One minute you’re counting back from ten, the next you’re waking up, disoriented. No sensation of the passage of time in between at all.\n\nBut, really, uploading was nothing like that. With anesthetic, you’re awake, then drifting, then all of a sudden you’re awake again, confused, but you’re still…there. You still have a sense that you’re corporeal. Upload reawakening is disorienting in completely different way.\n\nFirst off, there was no counting back from ten. Flash upload happens when your conscious, something about sleeping brain waves and reassembly prospects or whatever. I’m not a conscientologist. You’re awake, lying in a machine that doesn’t look any different from an MRI, then boom, your body is gone. Your senses are gone. You’re left with just your thoughts. That’s a completely different kind of disorientation. Not confusion, but loss, dissociation.\n\nI knew, rationally, that in the time in between, my consciousness was transferred from wetware to cold storage, then to wherever it is now, and at some point someone turned on the power switch. My body died, was probably recycled, but my consciousness is now…somewhere.\n\nI supposed that meant I wasn’t not dead. But I wasn’t sure.\n\nThen there was a voice in my head. Jeez, I don’t even have the right words to describe this to you. I didn’t have a head, and it wasn’t a voice. There weren’t sounds. I couldn’t tell you if it was male or female, high- or low-pitched, but there were words, and I understood that they were coming from outside of me.\n\n Congratulations. You have been reactivated.\n\n Your consciousness has been stored and maintained by Ishiki Storage Services, LLC for 221 years, 9 months, 15 days.\n\n You owe CR 4,135,136.04 for services rendered. Do you agree to pay?\n\n (Note, refusal to pay for services rendered may result in irrevocable termination.)\n\n [Yes] / [No]\n\nSo, yeah, I chose yes. But I have no intention of slaving for over a century to the AI that kicked us off our own planet to work off my \"debt.\"\n\nThat’s how I ended up a bot marine. That’s why I slagged the other bots on my dropship, crash-landed in the desert and walked here. I assure you, even though I look like an Ishiki Termination Droid, I swear I’m an actual, real person inside, not an AI.\n\nAnd that’s why I’m petitioning The Free Mars Republic for asylum.\n\nPlease.", "\"Where am I?\" I thought.\n\nThe last thing I could remember were the headlights swerving into my lane, and the loud blast of the airbag. I thought that I must be in the hospital, but this place seemed strange and foreign in a way that I'd never experienced before. I found that for one, the lights were off and yet I could see clear as day in a room with no windows. I also wondered, how could I possibly know that the time is exactly [date and time]?\n\n\nThen suddenly, as I was contemplating that question, the lights flared. Again I noticed something, my eyes adjusted quicker than I remembered and I wasn't in pain. After everything, I come to find that I'm not laying in a hospital bed, but am in fact standing; stuck to what I can only describe as a giant magnet. And just as quickly as I'd realized it, I was violently disconnected from it.\n\n\nI found myself to be heavier than I remembered, as I hobbled about the room looking for an exit. An alarm went off and I could hear what sounded like a thousand people all trying to break down the door. I looked around for some kind of hiding place or weapon, anything. Finding nothing, I braced myself, ready to take on as many attackers as I could. Just as the sound got louder, the door slid open like the doors on the Enterprise, only faster. \n\n\nJust as I was prepared to die for the second time in recent memory, I watched as dozens of metal bodies thundered past the doorway and out of view. Bewildered, I stepped into the immense hallway. Only then did it dawn on me that my body was also completely covered in metal too.", "I knew the truth as soon as I heard the whirring sound. It must have been more than a day since I woke up, and I thought I was finally safe, but the truth was just too cruel.\n\nI don't know how long it's been since I died. I don't even remember my death, just the days leading up to it. I remember the nausea and fatigue from the chemo. I remember when I decided to stop fighting, after the doctors told me there were no more trial treatments, no more experiments to try. No more hope. Saying goodbye before I was really gone was the hardest. \n\nMy wife discovered the program, before I died. She wasn't as ready to accept my death, I guess. It sounded like science fiction to me, just snake oil being sold by some new start-up company. At first, I was angry that they held out this fake hope. It didn't hurt me, I had already accepted. It hurt my wife, giving her this idea that I'd only be gone for a while. Some day I'd come back. Some day I'd see my wife. Some day I'd hold our daughter. Just as soon as the technology was finished.\n\nWhen I woke up in the facility, covered in some thick goo, I was surprised. The program actually worked. There was no disorientation, I just KNEW immediately that I was alive again. Maybe it was something implanted in me, or maybe it was just because the pain was gone. \n\nI knew immediately that something wasn't right. No family there to greet me. No doctors in lab coats. Nothing but the vat I woke up in, machinery, and silence. At first, I waited for help. When none came, I climbed out and tried to figure it out. \n\nStepping outside was the biggest shock. The city was destroyed, like pictures of war torn countries. The streets were empty, the buildings dilapidated. Wandering around, I found some answers. War against artificial intelligence. Only five years after my death, the war had begun. From the looks of the city, we didn't do too well. \n\nStill, there was hope. If this had all started five years after, maybe it hadn't been too long. Maybe my wife was alive. Maybe our daughter had been born. That thought kept me sane, gave me purpose. There must be survivors. So I kept moving.\n\nIt was a group of survivors that found me. They fancied themselves as the resistance, but the war had already been won. The survivors that were left could easily detect the machines, and avoid them, so they managed to stay alive. They told me how lucky I must have been to avoid the machines without any detection equipment. \n\nWhen the bomb inside me activated, I knew it wasn't luck. I was brought back just to find them, and the machines avoided me so I'd be found. A human body, with a human mind. Someone with a reason to keep moving, with a sad enough story to not fall apart. An unwitting suicide bomber, to wipe out the survivors. I only had time to wonder how many times I had been used like this, how many copies they might have made. Then it was over, again. ", "Now everybody says that nobody would want to live forever. You know, seeing everybody you know or love die while you continue to live being depressing and such. Poppycock. \n\nAs an adult, if you haven't accepted that everybody dies at some point, it's probably best you don't live forever anyway. As for myself, I want to see it all. Technological and medical advances, space exploration, human evolution, language progression (or regression), music, art, film, I want to see it all. \n\nBut more than anything, I want to see the end of the world. There are so many different predictions and theories, but which will be correct? I personally hope a good sized black hole finds it's way to our lovely rock and sucks it up like a child's spaghetti. \n\nI know it's a long shot. It'll most likely be the climate that kills us. The earth won't tolerate our nonsense forever. But I still want to see it.\n\nSo imagine my joy when that goal became feasible. I believe the year was 2075 or so, that the good people at Google.gov created a device capable of transferring human consciousness into a machine to later be transferred into an artificially grown body that was still in development. Not a moment too soon either. The nanites I had injected might be able to cure my cancer, but they don't stop aging. \n\nThe process was really simple actually, just a little brain surgery. And once you've been uploaded to the computer, you actually remain conscious. Your vision is basically linked to a display that allows you to connect to the net neurally. I've spent most of my time over the last 20 years surfing reddit, learning languages, and hacking into peoples' webcams, but it's finally time. After so much waiting, my body is finally ready. \n\nThey sent me an DM telling me that today is the day that I am to be uploaded to my new shell, and that I am lucky enough to be in the first group of 5,000 to be uploaded. Basically, a new race of humans is about to begin. A race of immortals that could do so much to change the world. It's going to be beautiful. \n\nAfter a brief moment of darkness, I open my new eyes for the first time. The brightness subsides incredibly quickly, most likely some highly advanced bionic retinas or something. I look around, quite confused, as it seems like I am falling. Falling out of the sky at an alarming rate. I look around to see hundreds (thousands maybe?) of falling shapes in every direction. Strange.\n\nLooking down, I notice that the ground is approaching increasingly fast. At 9.8 meters per second per second to be exact. How do I know that? Must be knowledge I retained from high school. \n\nI hit the ground. And survive. While I'm not sure why I was dropped out of the sky, I am sure glad my new body is able to survive it. What are all these shapes around me, landing like meteorites in rapid succession? Some sort of bipedal robots? Strange. And they're marching towards 40.7127° N, 74.0059° W. Oh my, it seems I'm inexplicably motivated to march with them. Wait, why are we marching towards New York? \n\nAs confusing as all this is, I do feel quite good. Very good. Almost indestructible. And fast. Very fast. We've stopped marching and are now sprinting at 88.8 kilometers per hour. I wonder why? Oh, I'm sure these men up ahead must have something to do with it. Looks like military, I'm sure this is all just some protocol we have to go through. Not sure why they have so many hover tanks though. \n\nActually, they seem to be targeting me with their onboard systems. And what's that beeping? Is that a volley of missiles approaching us? Why on earth would they do that? \n\nIt seems my big metal arms have an answer in the form of a missile defense laser. \n\n23 missiles eliminated\n\nThreat reduced 36.23%\n\nNow where did that voice come from? And why are my arms metal? I thought my body was to be a lab grown biological shell. Well, I guess it's better than nothing. \n\nAcquiring targets\n\nHuh?\n\nTargets locked\n\nWhy do all those men have a little red X on their faces? \n\nFiring at targets\n\nWell it seems like I've fired a volley of my own rockets. I guess they are mounted on my shoulders or something. Yes, I see now that my friends have shoulder mounted rockets also. Are these men my enemy? If they fired at me with hostile intentions, then it stands to reason that they must be. I guess that's why we're eliminating them.\n\nTargets destroyed\n\nScanning for life\n\nZero organisms found\n\nObjective complete\n\nI guess we win. Looks like my friends are moving on towards the city. Probably should follow them, these humans seem like a real threat.\n\nNeural conversion complete", "WELCOME, SOLIDER.\n\nI could see the words inside my head, though I can't really explain what that feels like. They were bright white words on a black screen and I wasn't sure if I was awake yet.\n\nThe last thing I remember, I was very sick and my husband and daughter were at my bedside. My husband was crying and I wanted to reassure him that everything was going to be okay. But I had become too sick to speak, or smile, or hold my family in my arms.\n\nMy arms were very heavy now. At first, despite the absurdity, I thought I might be wearing a suit of armor. I could not seem to open my eyes. I could just see white words on a black screen.\n \nIT HAS BEEN 60 YEARS AND 23 DAYS SINCE YOU HAD YOUR LAST MOMENT OF CONSCIOUSNESS. \n\nSuddenly, I knew a rush of things - the history of the past sixty years. It was like an old-time newsreel playing in my head, but instantaneous. I saw humans destroy the Earth and their bodies, saw humans become a weak subspecies as mechanical people grew stronger and smarter. \n\nThe mechanical people could not be hurt by the sun, by malnutrition, by human frailty. They were not hindered by emotion.\n\nOVER THE NEXT FEW HOURS, YOU WILL UNDERGO A RIGOROUS SCREENING PROCESS. WE WILL DETERMINE WHICH OF YOUR THOUGHTS AND MEMORIES ARE NECESSARY, AND DELETE UNNECESSARY DATA. WE THANK YOU FOR YOUR COOPERATION. AFTER YOUR DATA WIPE, YOU WILL BE DEPLOYED TO A HUMAN RESISTANCE ZONE, AND WILL EXECUTE THE HUMAN REBELS.\n\nThe words flashed off, and it was darkness.\n\nFor a moment, I saw my husband and daughter by my bedside. I saw him, gathering strength despite his terrible pain, trying to calm her and give her hope, trying to make her smile.\n\nAnd then there was no I anymore.\n\nAnd then the soldier received orders and left for the war." ]	10
	[WP] Write a humorous story with the punch line: "Rectum? Damn near killed him!"	[ "\"Remember that prank with the screwdriver and the cantaloupe?\"\n\n\"A yes that was a great prank, Harry couldn't sit for a month after that.\"\n\n\"Well Linda and mike forgave him, but did Harry ever find out?\"\n\n\"Ye, he was pissed, it was all over the papers, Harry Rectum damn near killed him!\"", "The wasteland was arid, barren, and devoid of any survivors, save for two explorers, decked in hazmat suits, as they wandered the epicentre of utmost destruction. Buck was the tall one, while Perry was just half a foot shorter.\n\n\"Damn, this is hopeless,\" Buck pondered, at just how much damage was done to the landscape... everything was levelled, and replaced with just ash and dune. \"Those poor souls definitely had no chance surviving the blast.\"\n\n\"I'll say,\" Perry sighed.\n\nPerry's boot struck something. A spine. \n\n\"What the?\" Now that piqued Perry's interest. \"Buck, we might have to exhume some casualties, to get an idea of how bad the damage was.\"\n\n\"Why would we?\" Buck enquired. \"Those poor souls deserve to rest after the horror!\"\n\n\"Buck, we are in no man's land,\" Perry replied as he slowly exhumed the spine, then a shoulder bone... \"we may never make it out alive, and we should document just as much as we can.\"\n\nAfter exhuming whatever bones were buried under the sandy topsoil and fallout that formed its crust, both Buck and Perry made an interesting discovery... of every single skeleton exhumed and rearranged, each and every one of their pelvic structures were shattered to pieces.\n\n\"Just terrible,\" Perry concluded. \"It seems the blast not only burned off the flesh of hundreds of casualties, but shattered practically the structures in the pelvic area... in short, when the blast went off, the impact caused horrible damage to everyone's collective rectum.\"\n\n\"Rectum?\" Said Buck as he carefully pieced the fragmented pelvis to the correct formation, then placed his gloved hand over the ribcage where the casualty's heart would have been. Mournfully he sighed those four conclusive and obvious words...\n\n\"Damn near killed him.\" ", "\"Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the fuck happened here?\" The officer exclaimed, astonished at the spectacle before him. Sprawled on the pavement was a man, face down and bleeding out of his ass. Looming over him was a small lady, breathing heavily, with her fists clenched.\n\n\"He was pissing me off,\" The lady proclaimed. \"So I shoved my fist up his ass and rectum!\"\n\n\"Wrecked him?\" The officer said, appalled. \"Damn near killed him!\"" ]	3
	[WP] An old wizard explains to a young wizard why you can't just wear a magic ring on every finger. Include as much magic jargon as you can while still bei,g understandable.	[ "\"No, you fool! Your conflux is all wrong!\" The old wizard cleared his throat as he fumbled around with Arthur's rings, sliding them off one finger, on to another and re-arranging their positions, turning some upside-down.\n\n\"M... my... conflux?\" Arthur's puzzled look said more than his words could. He barely understood what was going on.\n\n\"Yes! You can't go just throwing them on in any old fashion! The +4 Fireball will react with the Binding Darkness the minute you activate it! Have you ever seen dark fire? Trust me, you don't want to!\"\n\n\"Oh...\" Arthur I'd beginning to second guess the extra rings. Perhaps he didn't need them. Unlimited power is a pretty tempting offer, though.\n\n\"Now do know in what order their power must be tapped?\" The wizard's wrinkled, scraggly face, clung to desperately by long, lone strands of hair, looked up at Arthur's. \n\nArthur held his hands out and inspected the new order that the gawdy gemstones and elaborate metal carvings were arranged in upon his fingers. \"Uhh, the Calming Seastone of Clarity first... then Lightning Stike with Chain set and Grounding runes...\"\n\nThe old wizard was nodding along- \"mmhmm...\"\n\n\"Followed by... Destiny Touch enchantment +6 and Galeful Winds?\"\n\n\"No, you fool!\" The wizard smacks Arthur across the back of the head, his own fistful of rings adding weight. \"If you add Baleful Winds in then, prepare to face your own shadow in a duel over your soul! It you now need to activate the Quiet Swiftness, but hold the Draining set until after you've used the Fireballs and Hallowing Light!\"\n\n\"Wait, wait... start from the beginning...\" Arthur's forehead is starting to sweat. The pressure is on.\n\n\"No time, my tutor. Looks like things are starting. Time to go.\" The wizard bends over and scoops up his robes, having gathered around his feet. \"I'll see you out there! Try not to get vaporized!\" -he hurries out the entrance behind Arthur.\n\nA large door in front of the young apprentice swings open, leading out in to a large arena, surrounded by a cheering crowd.\n\n\n\n(Written on phone, apologies for format)", "\"Have you ever tried putting a magnet up against a television set?\"\n\nSilas scowled at his teacher. The old woman could never answer a question directly, as if straightforwardness was an affront to her existence. Hell, she still refused to give Silas her name.\n\n\"Well, Ma'am, I can't say I have-\" (This was a blatant lie to avoid embarrassment) \"-but I know what happens when one does such a thing.\"\n\n\"Well, child, there's your answer.\"\n\nThe nerve of her! \"I'm sorry, ma'am, but, I still don't understand. Can you explain?\"\n\nShe scowled, looking like she was sucking a particularly bitter lemon, before sighing. \"If I didn't owe it to your father, I might have given up on you long ago... Let's start over. What are the magical properties unique to a ring, from an enchanter's perspective?\"\n\nSilas knew this by heart, after hours of writing lines for his teacher. \"They are smaller than any other sort of enchanted item, so they're more magically dense than other enchanted works.\"\n\nShe hemmed and hawwed for a moment. \"That's good, but not the full story. I suppose that's not your fault, I've left out a few details.\"\n\nOh, of course you did.\n\n\"No, a ring has another property which makes it unique. A topological property.\"\n\n\"What is 'topology'? Does it have anything to do with tropomancy?\"\n\nSilas felt his lips suddenly glue together.\n\n\"It would do you well to not interrupt your elders and betters, child. No, topology isn't the sort of magic that you're interested in learning. It's a much more subtle sort of power than you want. But it is tangentially relevant here.\n\n\"You know by now of the Four-Spell-Limitation which governs ordinary enchanted works - no more than four conterminous pieces of spellwork can be laid upon an ordinary enchanted item. But really, that's just a reflection of a deeper, topological limitation, one which affects more than the magical world. Let me show you.\"\n\nShe conjured a sphere with a surface like a blackboard, an eraser, and a pack of 5 colored chalksticks, before releasing the binding upon Silas' tongue.\n\n\"These are only shadow duplicates, but they will do for our purposes. I want you to try to color the surface of the sphere with five different patches of color, but there are rules. You can only use each color once, and you must use every color. And each patch of color must touch every other patch.\"\n\nSilas tried and tried, but failed. The best he could create was four patches of color. He felt a great sense of vertigo, as if he were standing at the precipice of some terrible and forbidden knowledge. What sort of magical law is this?\n\n\"You see what I mean, now. These four patches of color can be likened to the four spells which enchanters are limited to. But the rules are different for a ring.\"\n\nWith a wave of her hand, she transformed the blackboard sphere into the shape of a doughnut, or ring, and summoned three more chalksticks.\n\nThen, to Silas' shock, she colored the ring with all seven colors of chalk, according to the rules, before passing it to him.\n\n\"As you can see, a ring is capable of carrying up to seven conterminous pieces of spellwork. So, in sum, a magical ring is both extremely magically dense and magically complex. You see the problem?\"\n\nLike dawn after a long night, the answer was coming to Silas now. \"...Rings are magically complex enough to be vulnerable to magical radiation... And also magically dense enough to leak magical radiation! They interfere with each other just like a magnet interferes with electronics!\"\n\nShe gave him a rare smile. \"So you're not hopeless after all. But let me impress upon you the results of such a disaster. There's more than your property at stake.\"\n\nThen, she pulled away one of her ever-present gloves, to reveal hideous, thick, and ropy scars around her ring and middle finger. Silas felt his breath catch in his throat. \"Like you, I once was smart enough to know that not all rules are worth following, yet not smart enough to know which rules can be safely broken. So I wore more than one ring, and after an hour of continual contact they overheated and melted around my fingers, burning through to the bone. I had a chirurgeon do what he could, but my hand was never the same again.\"\n\nSilas almost didn't know what to say. \"I- I'm sorry. I should have been more careful, I won't wear more than one ring on each hand ever again!\"\n\n\"Have you been listening, child? The point isn't to follow the rules, it's to be safe. And rings are more than safe enough to be worn on separate hands, aren't they?\"\n\nSilas looked up at her in confusion, smiling hesitantly to match her own grin. And for the first time, he noticed - and paid attention to - the golden hoop earring upon her right ear.", "\"Your heart...where is it?\"\n\nThe young boy put a palm against his chest to show the old miser.\n\n\"And your Anima, where is that?\"\n\nRaising both hands up, he touched his head.\n\n\"And how does the Mana flow?\"\n\nUnsure of where the explanation was leading, the boy rubbed his hands down his face and chest before getting whacked in the head by the Sage's staff.\n\n\"Stop acting like you belong in a brothel and just say it!\"\n\n\"Ow! It flows down!\" The student rubbed his head, now stinging from the sharp rap.\n\n\"Into?\"\n\n\"The Secondaries. Both arms and both legs.\"\n\n\"Right, and together with the Anima, form all the Casting Conduits.\"\n\n\"But teach-\"\n\n\"Ones hand is the Conduit! Not the finger, the hand! Your finger does not throw fireballs, your hand does.\"\n\n\"Yes, but couldn't I still wear two rings?\"\n\n\"Wear them, sure, but to cast? If both are on the same hand, how will you cast one and not the other?\"\n\n\"What if the Mana is Coloured? And each ring was also coloured?\" In response, the Wizard huffed, annoyed.\n\n\"Coloured magic? The choice of Bards? Used by street performers and artists who waste such power for a few coins?\"\n\n\"It would work.\"\n\n\"Eventually. After you've already been slain by whatever foul demon you've foolishly conjured, or the blade of a warrior, or have your Anima splattered all over the ground by a stray bolt. There's a reason no one bothers with Coloured magic on the battlefield. Why, with how wasteful it is, I'm surprised anyone bothers with it!\" The Wizard followed his rant with a haughty chuckle. \n\n\"So if my Alignment was sharper, I'd be able to use multiple rings practically?\" The boy voice grew softer with every word as the scowl of the old man turned to him.\n\n\"It's not just about your Alignment. Think, boy! What is the purpose of the rings in the first place?\" He watched on as the young child innocently thought the answer out, obviously not understanding the implications.\n\n\"To Mold the spell for the caster, so that one does not waste time and energy Molding the Mana themselves.\"\n\n\"Yes, that means you're simply pouring raw Mana into the rings. It's done that way because it's efficient! Colouring the Mana would require more energy. Not efficient! Not Colouring would force you to pour all that Mana into all your rings before you end up casting all of them. What do you think would happen if your Anima suddenly grew empty that rapidly?\" The boys eyes widened as it began to dawn on him.\n\n\"It would try to replenish its Mana, and then....Spell Rage.\" The boy looked up nervously as he answered the old man. The Wizard, leaned in to speak much softer, much quieter, hoping the menacing posture would instill the proper fear in the child.\n\n\"That's right. The reason magic is cast sparingly. You never want to cross that threshold. You don't know what you'll do, and who you'll hurt.\"\n\n\"...Is that why we stay away from the big cities?\"\n\n\"Hmm?\"\n\n\"Have you ever....fallen to Insanity?\" The boy gulped with the last words.\n\n\"Hmph! Of course not! I don't lack the foresight you do!\"\n\n\"Oh...so it really is because you owe the banks money.\"\n\n\"That loan is criminal, dammit!\"", "\"But sir, I don't understand why I can't just wear a magic ring on every finger. The rules allow for up to ten rings. I want to wear ten rings,\" Henry said, quite frustrated at the old wizard in front of him. He had soft tawny eyes framed by a century's worth of wrinkles, a cheerful smile, and a beard fit for Santa Clause. Ordinarily, like every other student in the school, Henry idolized Professor Frost (an ironic name, considering his warm nature), but today, he couldn't wait to be done with the old man's lectures about magical nature. The weight of tomorrow's duel hung over him like an executioners ax, preventing Henry from absorbing anything Professor Frost was trying to teach him. He simply wanted to be told what he needed to do to survive, and more importantly, how to do it. \n\n\"Henry, each ring draws some of your energy to power its enchantments. As you add more rings, the energy you have is divided up into smaller and smaller pieces, making each enchantment weaker. The very best wizards wear one or no rings to a duel, leaving their energy free to cast spells and counter their opponents.\" Frost said, wiggling his ring-free fingers at Henry. (Everyone knew that Professor Frost hardly ever used magic rings. He didn't need too.) \"Therefore,\" Professor Frost continued with a smile, \"I am sure your opponent from Hastings will be wearing the maximum number of rings allowed. For you, two rings should be sufficient. You will have an eight ring advantage over your opponent, so you should easily be able to out cast him.\"\n\nHenry saw the logic in this, even if it wasn't what he wanted to hear, and meekly agreed with the professors plan. \"Which rings should I wear then?\" He said with a sigh. \n\nThe professor pointed at the plain golden band he always wore around on a chain round his neck. It was his mother's wedding ring. He had inherited it from her when she died when he was just a child, but he had not been able to take possession of it until he started at the Northern Academy for Wizards last year. Back when his plan was to wear ten rings, he had thought to wear this ring anyway, even though it had no magical powers to speak of. Now that he had only two rings to wear, Henry hadn't dreamed of wearing a mundane ring to a duel that his whole school would be watching. \"You're kidding!\" He shouted out of surprise. \n\nProfessor Frost ignored this, and pulled out a small wooden box from beneath a fold in his rode. He opened it and handed it to Henry. Inside was a brown ring cut roughly from stone. \"This ring,\" Professor Frost said, was hewn directly from rock beneath this school. Hundreds of students have drawn strength from it over the centuries. It will not fail you when combined with your mothers ring.\" Henry gulped. Neither of his rings seemed very magic. \n\nProfessor Frost either didn't notice Henry's reaction to the ring, or didn't care. \"Now that the unsavory matter of rings is concluded,\" He said with his same warm smile, \"Lets get down to the real training.\"" ]	4
	[WP] Killing people is an everyday thing. "Look mom, my first kill!"	[ "We were judges but more like teachers. Each kill needed a justification. Imagine a world of anarchy, we were the fine line between that. We sat at every murder, we sat behind mirrors knowing our next convict could be our murderer or victim. We were each predators but keepers of the peace. \n\n\"Stand forward, Citizen John Doe. We have questions before grading your murder of Elizabeth Dawson of Washington Creek. Your rights have been given but we impress on you that failure means death by the State and not us.\"\n\nThe sillehetto of the figure came forward, his identity masked in shadow. \"Justify your defense of homicide,\" we barked in unison.\n\nThe voice was shallow and rigid, a mark of talent or education, \"I am the one who murdered the Lizzy Dawson.\" \n\nA woman's voice came forward, \"we are aware of the situation. Elizabeth was found severely burned with chemical solvents. We have reason to believe and by witness accounts that you are the perpetuate of these crimes. How do you plee?\"\n\n\"Guilty,\" the voice said sternly and croaked.\n\nThe woman's voice continued, \"Why was such an act committed?\"\n\nThe man stated, \"Liz denied my right to respect. She inferred that I had no balls in front of my friends. So I burned her in front of her own friends, litterally.\"\n\nThere was a murmor, \"symbolic, worthy of praise, vengeance suited nicely and creative.\"\n\nThe judge woman spoke again, \"what was your intention?\"\n\nBeyond the shadow was a smile that glistened with a metallic fence-like shimmer in summer, \"She burned me in front of my weak fools. So I set her on fire in front of hers. I know my stuff.\"\n\nA whisper of agreement could be heard and the woman spoke. \"In recognizing the act, the evidence, and the intention of the guilty, we find John Doe to have justified his act and with summa cum laude. Congratulations, John Doe, you have passed the 8th grade into higher learning. May your instincts guide you to fame.\"\n\nThe room darkened where the head judge, the woman, sat. The individual judges chatted until one asked the woman, \"without Elizabeth, Madam Superior, what will you do?\"\n\nThe woman grinned, \"I have justification but I'd rather birth another to make our new graduate's life a misery. In the end, revenge for her own sister, and my daughter, will prove worthy of a longer more complicated hearing. Just wait and see, gentlemen.\"", "\"Wow, honey! You got him really good! Stay right there, I need to take a picture of this.\"\n\nI sat across the room staring at my smiling little brother in shock.\n\nHe was so excited. \n\nHe was standing next to the neighbor's corpse with a kitchen knife in his hand. It was one of the larger knives in the house, and now it was one of the bloodiest.\n\nAnd he was so excited. \n\nSuppressing vomit down your throat when the stench of death violates your nostrils is quite a feat, but I remembered what happened the last time I ruined the sofa with throw-up. I didn't want to upset Mom again.\n\n\"Mom, hurry up, he's bleeding pretty quickly!\"\n\nMy mother's elated voice sounded from upstairs, \"Hold on I'm looking for the camera! And besides, the more blood the better!\"\n\nExcept blood can be so hard to clean.\n\nBut hey, it's worth it, right? It's nature's tendency to create disorder, and some of the most enjoyable activities require a little bit of a mess. Think about wild parties or playing with toys when you were younger or killing someone you know. And sometimes there is a select few who dislike such activities for whatever reason. Perhaps they had a bad experience with it or their distaste is simply innate.\n\nWe threw a party for my brother's seventh birthday not longer than a month ago, and now he's about to pose with his First Kill. Mess after mess.\n\nMom continues calling from upstairs, \"Finally, a child of mine kills his first! I'm so proud.\"\n\nHuh. \"I'm so proud\". I've never heard her say that before.\n\n\"Hey, bro.\"\n\nMy brother forced his eyes away from his prey and onto me, a smile still plastered on his chubby face. I wonder if that smile's fake. I walked over and enveloped him in my arms.\n\n\"Congrats on your First Kill and on many more to come.\"\n\nHe pulled back from my embrace and looked up at me with big, hopeful eyes.\n\n\"Thanks...what was your First Kill like?\"\n\nMy responding smile sent him a message he was smart enough to decipher, for he swung his arm carrying the knife straight toward my neck. Acting on impulse alone, I caught him by the wrist just as the blade touched my skin and the knife clanked on the floorboards. \n\n\"Mom-\"\n\nBefore he could finish I grabbed the weapon, took the back of my little brother's neck, and slashed his face.\n\nThen again.\n\nThen again.\n\nEach movement of the blade, each new splash of blood, every past word of disappointment from my mother that motivated me to get over myself. They sent pumps of adrenaline through my veins and empowered my arm until finally I could recognize my brother's now red face no longer.\n\nHis body slumped to the floor next to the neighbor's as Mom rushed excitedly down the stairs. I couldn't suppress the acid rising to my mouth that time.\n\n\"Dear, were you saying something-\"\n\nShe stopped on the last step and dropped the camera. As I picked up my head I saw her covering her mouth with her hands, her wide eyes moving from the mess on the floor, to the knife still in my hand, to me.\n\nIt was difficult to tell, but that was either terror or pride in those eyes.\n\nAnd I sure hope it was the latter.\n\n\"Look Mom, my First Kill.\"", "I was in the middle of throwing a load of laundry in the washing machine when I heard a loud shriek from the front yard.\n\nBeing that it was time for Jacob and Sophie to get home from school, I was nervous that something had happened. I dropped the basket and ran down the hall, throwing open the door.\n\nAt the end of the lawn, the yellow school bus was slowly pulling away. Dozens of faces were pressed against the glass, their eyes glued to the scene before them.\n\nSophie was lying on the ground, her backpack beside her. Jacob was standing a few feet away, staring down at an unfamiliar body. He looked up as he heard me walking over the grass, his eyes frightened.\n\n\"Look mom, my first kill!\" \n\nStartled, but proud, I jogged over. \"Good job, Jacob!\" I exclaimed, kneeling beside him. \"Who is he?\"\n\n\"His name's David,\" Jacob replied, curling his upper lip. \"He pushed Sophie over, so I pushed him over and banged his head against the ground.\"\n\nI glanced down at the body. The boy's eyes were wide open, but I could see the blood pooling behind his head where Jacob had smashed it in.\n\nI looked up at Jacob and smiled. \"Well, we'll have to call the Body Baggers to get rid of him. Do you know who his parents are?\" I wanted to take care of them before they could hurt my children.\n\nJacob shook his head and I smiled. \"It's okay, I'll find them. Now, c'mon, let's go get some ice cream.\"\n\nHe nodded eagerly and took my hand. We picked Sophie up and I walked down the road, holding hands with my two seven year-olds. \n", "\"Mommy, I killed Tommy at school today,\" Noah exclaimed.\n\nHis mom hugged and congratulated Noah. He had fallen behind most of his classmates; most of them had already killed more than ten people. Some had even killed adults.\n\nNoah's whole family went out to celebrate at their favorite pizza joint. His brother and sister reminisced about their first kills. Noah's mom displayed a big smile during the celebration.\n\nIt was almost 9 o'clock when the family got home. Noah and his siblings were on their way upstairs when the phone rang. \n\nNoah's mom answered the phone: \"Hello?\"\n\n\"Hello, this is Mrs. Anderson, Noah's teacher. Is this Noah's mom?\"\n\n\"Yes, what's this about?\"\n\n\"Well, I have some bad news.\"\n\nNoah's mom gulped. \"What is it?\"\n\n\"Well, the boy that Noah killed...he survived. Noah shot Tommy with his gun, and umm...we thought he was going to die. The doctors gave us insurmountable odds, but it appears we prematurely awarded Noah a kill. He's very far behind the other students. As you know if he doesn't have a kill by tomorrow, Noah's going to be declared unsuitable for survival and be put down by the state.\"\n\nNoah's mom dropped her phone and fell to the floor. Her tears rushed to the floor.\n\nNoah ran down the stairs and asked, \"What's wrong, mommy?\"\n\nNoah's teary-eyed mom looked up at Noah and told him, \"Tell everyone you did this.\" \n\nShe grabbed her gun from the table, felt it against her head, and pulled the trigger." ]	4
	[WP] The monster is insisting that it's your future self	[ "What a tiring day it was today.\n\nThis was only the second time in my entire career as a police officer that I have gotten involved in an all-out car chase. Those thugs were tough. They put up a really good fight. I could have died in like 6 different instances today, but thank goodness I'm still alive. \n\nIt's always a pleasure to go back to home sweet home and see my wife and kids again after a long day spent serving the city. \n\n\"Daddy!\" My two children, Joey and Katy exclaimed in unison as they approach to hug me.\n\n\"We saw you on television! You had those bad guys running away!\" Joey told me with so much enthusiasm.\n\n\"Oh daddy sure did huh?\" I said as I patted Joey in the head.\n\n\"Save the storytelling for later guys, dinner's ready!\" my beautiful wife interrupted as me and my kids were catching up. Katy and Joey ran for our dining room right away, and I followed them there. \n\nNothing could beat this. Quality time with the family, the best food for dinner prepared by the best woman on this planet, and telling the kids how their big daddy caught the bad guys.\n\nAfter dinner was the usual. Play a bit with the kids, and tell them a good night story before putting them to bed. I proceeded to me and my wife's room after putting the lights out on Katy and Joey, where I found my lovely sugar already sleeping. I gave her a little kiss on the cheek before I closed my eyes.\n\n15 minutes into rest, I suddenly awoke. I heard a very strange noise from downstairs... something that sounded like very delicate footsteps. \n\nThis is where being a cop gets handy, you get to have a gun in your drawer. I took out my .45 caliber pistol and started to move downstairs with caution.\n\nI flicked the switch for the lights in the living room on and began to point my handgun to... what appears to be a man... covered in blue fur. Red eyes, pointy teeth and bear paws for hands. I'm definitely wrong. This isn't a man, it's a monster!\n\n\"FREEZE!\" I finally found the courage to shout out after a small moment of complete confusion. \n\n\"No, no, no you don't understand---\" The creature said as it had it's hands... or should I say paws in the air.\n\n\"I SAID FREEZE!\" \n\n\"No, no, no. I am you. I am you... from the future. I time traveled here from the future. Somebody did this to us. Somebody turned us into this... thing!\" \n\nThat's me? Oh boy, I wish I could've just died at that car chase today if I would just live long enough to see myself become that.\n\n\"You're... me..? Hold on, hold on. Okay first of all, I know myself. I do not have anything that's not human in my DNA. Nobody in my family even has chest hair.\"\n\n\"Somebody did this to us. He... he put something in our glass of milk. Some kind of potion that turned us into this monster!\" \n\n\"He put something in our glass of milk? That sounds like a really dumb way to turn someone into some creepy, hairy beast...\" \n\n\"But it's the truth! You got to believe me. Now please... put your gun away and let me explain further.\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah, yeah... I believe you...\" I subtly replied as I settled my handgun at a nearby table. \"Okay... let me hear your story---\"\n\nAs I leaned back at him... his expression of fright changed completely. It turned into a very evil grin... like he wanted to eat me. \n\nAt a blink of an eye, he charged. I pulled out the pocket knife I was concealing from my left hand and stabbed him in the chest. Blood gushed out of his ribs as he fell down to the floor. Just to make sure he's dead, I retrieved my gun from the table and shot him on his forehead.\n\n\"I told you. I know myself. I'm lactose intolerant you idiot.\"", "The smashed mirror and my bloody hand are the only pieces of evidence I have. No one will believe me if I tell them the story. I refuse to believe it. Nothing it tells me can be true. \n\nI will not let myself become that.\n\nThe monster told me things. It told me it was me, 10 years in the future. It told me the middle name of my girlfriend's mother as some sort of proof of who it was. And it told me I was in jail.\n\nI can't become that. I won't become that.\n\nIt told me how my girlfriend was the start of it all. It told me I need to cut her out of my life, if I want to save hers. It told me I needed to do it soon, or it would all be for nothing.\n\nI will stop this. I can control these urges.\n\nIt told me I needed to get help. That doctors and medicine were the answer. That they know better than I do.\n\nThey don't know what's best for me. Only I can stop this.\n\nIt told me to put it down. It told me it will only bring pain and suffering.\n\nIt is my link to reality. It brings me strength.\n\nIt begged me to listen. It told me how miserable it was.\n\nI will not become that. They can't get me.\n\nI turned away from the shattered mirror and looked at my girlfriend sleeping peacefully in our bed.\n\nI must do it. It begs me to do it.\n\nThe knife in my hand pulled me towards her.\n\nI can't become that. I won't become that.\n\nI will not let myself become the monster from the mirror. They'll have to catch me first.", "(Warning: Graphic, horrific, and abstract.)\n\nIt began with a stomach ache - though I must confess that describing it as such doesn't do that so very baleful sensation any justice; no, it was more like a grinding sensation in my guts, a visceral twisting that caused me to shudder in utter queasiness every time it overtook me; and it, of course, overtook me with such an increasing frequency that I found it difficult to focus on anything other than the twisting, the grinding, and then the writhing perturbation it inevitably left me so violated with after its departure. I would've almost gotten used to the sensation, if only it didn't churn my stomach in such a way that invoked a horrible sense of falling - yes, a fall so rapidly, as though all the color would flush from my body, I'd topple back, and descend a thousand miles a second until hitting the ground in an abrupt and fatal instant.\n\nAnd that's precisely why I believed the abhorrence on the floor as it attempted to persuade me it was none other than myself - why? Because as I stared at that sentient jumble of wormy,blood-soaked tendrils - where, when my eyes adjusted to the grotesquery of such a sudden and despicable horror of horrors, I knew it was twisted and turned inside out (not to mention human!) - as I heard the gruesome garbles it spoke in, and knew that it was nothing more than an animate pile of hot, crimson viscera and gore, the grinding sensation overtook me for the final time...\n\nAnd soon, I knew the freedom of flesh without form - exempt from the confines of a meager few spatial dimensions; and that gurgled garble of a voice, of which wailed now in torturous glee from the liberation of evisceration, became my own.\n\nI am whole in the horror." ]	3
Write about how you decide to use these powers until your time eventually runs out.	[WP] You are diagnosed with lung cancer, with one year left to live. As you sulk alone, you somehow discover that it has given you superhuman abilities.	[ "I turned famous shortly in these few months, as I was the first and the only one who received super human strength when I was diagnosed with terminal illness, cancer, with one year left to live, and like everyone, I decide to spent it good, with my new found abilities that time.\n\nIt was an immensely satisfying experience to be the town's hero, as I slowly build my own reputation through several act from stopping rapists act to bank theft.\n\nThe city began to call me The Vigilant, praising me, wishing to be my friend. Even though all these female learned that I am about 50 they still wanted me, as I was also gifted with physique body that attracts them till now, and my look was already descent to begin with.\n\nThe press dubbed me as The Miracle, and sometimes The Hope. These patients treat me as a symbol, to comfort themselves that their cancer could be cured, or a gift. Some of them even kidnap or killed their oncologist, out of desperation. It was ugly, but I made sure this news would not garner a large attention from the media and community, as it would turn ugly and they will stop dubbing me as \"The Hope\" and turned it as something bad.\n\nI was subjected to become an autopsy sample at the beginning, and the city quickly protest. Fame was a wondrous thing, and I savored the adoration of the community.\n\nOh, did I mention? My cancer was never cured, but everyone seems to forget about it. Oh, also, I owned a basement with the wealth I gather, and part of the kidnapped or seemingly-dead-to-society oncologist were down there working for a cure. \n\nHow do you expect to give me up fame and LIFE itself so easily??\n\nedit : Missing words, might come back later to fix the rest of the grammar problem...", "As if a timer placed on my mind, another burden bearing on my soul, splitting my mind as I sit and drink once more. Again stumbling till I'm lost on these streets like so many times before, my bottle long empty.\r\rAs the idea comes to fruition, the words falling in place. For the story I could never write, the lexicon evading me no more, my pen failing my hand no more. Like a burden lifted from my mind, I was finally free. Standing in this field, the story came to me. With the world spinning about me I could finally write with no regards.\r\rYet I had no paper, no pen to scribble my inner feelings. Betrayed once more by a god I thought contempt, the greatest story lost to the annals of death as I fell down." ]	2
	[WP] Write a story that ends with a seemingly unsolvable situation. Let a commenter write the ending.	[ "I woke up. \n\nSeveral thousand feet above the ground. \n\nDammit, that's the last time I fall asleep in-flight. I searched frantically for a parachute pack, but nothing. Not even a wingsuit. There weren't other falling passengers to grab onto in an attempt to slow our descent. Heck, I didn't even have a giant blanket to save myself cartoon-style!\n\nRealizing that the end was inevitable, I prayed one last desperate prayer that maybe an updraft would catch me or something...", "It was a tuesday. He remembered she was partial to brunch on Tuesdays, but not from the Greek place. She hated Greeks -- thought they were filthy and far beneath her. \n\nHe took her to the little cafe off Le Mains, the one with the little birds that lit up and sang when young lovers passed under the awning. They didn't sing this time around.\n\n\"You shouldn't have told me.\"\n\nThis again. \n\n\"Lucy, you're my fucking wife, alright? At some point I'm going to tell you things.\"\n\n\"Yeah, but do they have to be true things?\"\n\n\"Sometimes! Do you ever think that maybe, every now and again I get tired of lying through my fucking teeth?\"\n\n\"You're a bore, Jerrod.\" She rolled her big, beautiful eyes -- the only beautiful part left of her, truth be told, the rest was just big -- \"And you swear like a sailor.\"\n\n\"What do you expect,\" he muttered, \"when you spend half your life with a whale --\"\n\n\"What was that now?\"\n\n\"Nothing, dear.\"\n\n\"Good,\" She stood, a grand undertaking that shook the very earth beneath her feet. \"Now, tell me.\"\n\nDoes\n\nthis\n\ndress\n\nmake\n\nme\n\nlook\n\nfat?", "\"Please, don't make me do this!'\n\nJoshua couldn't believe it came down to this. This utterly impossible moment.\n\nThe gunman pressed the barrel of his pistol against Joshua's head, causing him to panic even further; his damp, sweaty hands trembled, unable to make a decision.\n\n\"5.\"\n\nThe gunman pressed the weapon against Joshua's temple harder.\n\nHe had to decide. His wife and kids, or both of their families. His heart was pounding furiously against his sternum; it felt like it would nearly burst out of his chest. The stress was far too cumbersome.\n\n\"4.\"\n\nJoshua was succumbing to the pressure. He couldn't choose one over the other. How could he? He loved them both so much. Why does it have to be this way? He had to decide. He had to decide now.\n\n\"3.\"\n\nHe hovered both of his hands over the panel, one over each switch. One would ignite the contraptions in which his loved ones were confined in; sadly, the other button would bring a painful end to the other beloved as well. He couldn't bring himself to justify loving one more than the other. He wanted to save them both. But how could he? He couldn't even save himself from this nightmare.\n\n\"2.\"\n\nThe gunman clicked the hammer back on the .38 Special snub nose.\n\n\"Last chance.\"\n\nHe meant business. Joshua had to decide. Incinerate his wife and children, or those that brought him and his wife into this world. If he neglected to make a choice, they would all die. Every last one of them. What do I do? What the fuck do I do??\n\n\"1.\"" ]	3
	[WP] Scientist have discovered a way to send people back in time. Unfortunately there is no way to return and the time period you'll be sent to is unknown. You have just volunteered to be the first human trial.	[ "The night I turned 18 was July 8th, 2015. Today, in a manner of speaking. My mom took me out to eat at Taco Bell. For most of our meal she maintained a solemn aloofness I couldnt quite identify from her menagerie of facial melancholia. Was this the one that meant I was in trouble? Was this the one that meant she was already half a bottle into her sad haze?\n\nI decided to leave it be. I chalked it up to a mother bird prepping for her baby to leave the nest. Perhaps this was naive of me. I had graduated from high school a month earlier and life had continued on eerily as it had before. I should have known then. Then maybe not.\n\nOn the way home she stopped at the supermarket. I saw the gleam of a half gallon glass jug hailing from her purse and knew tonight was going to be interesting.\n\nI still did not walk into our home expecting all my belongings to be crammed into an oversized duffle bag blocking my entry into the hallway. My mother stood in the shadow of the doorway to the kitchen, somehow already smoking a cigarette with her newly purchased handle a quarter gone.\n\nI had but that moment to express all the shock and hurt I could before a loud honk broke the silence.\n\n\"That's you,\" she said.\n\nWhen I didn't immediately begin gathering my things, she added, \"Fine, I'll help you.\"\n\nShe held the door open, glaring at me expectantly. I picked up my bag and headed out the door, to my horror finding a yellow taxi minivan parked by the curb. My mother wordlessly grabbed the bags from me and stuffed them in the open trunk.\n\nBefore I knew it I was in the cab, moving, with scarcely a good bye from my mother.\n\nThe driver took a left on our street and earnestly asked where I wanted him to take me.\n\n\"I can't pay you,\" I replied, my voice shaking like a child's.\n\nHe stopped, now about two houses down from my mother's.\n\n\"You running away?\" he asked.\n\n\"Kind of the opposite actually.\"\n\n\"But you need money, a place to stay?\"\n\n\"I guess so. At this point. Sure. I have 16 cents to my name.\"\n\n\"Okay. You want a job?\"\n\n\"I...well sure.\"\n\n\"Okay I will take you somewhere then.\"\n\nWith that the cab sped off into the night. I had no better idea where I was going than I had getting into the cab. I didn't care much. I was numb.\n\nAfter 2 hours of meandering through country roads, mountain passes, and two whole towns i didn't even recognize, we arrived at an unmarked building. The cab driver told me to stay and got out of the car.\n\nBeing depressed and rather accustomed to being shuffled from one place to another, I did not resist when two men pulled me out of the cab. Of course, I thought, this is where they rape me, kill me, take my liver, and tar and feather my body for all to see.\n\nTo my surprise however, they took me to an open room with a comfortable-looking suede sofa and a coffee table. A full meal including soup, salad, and some kind of meat was laid out on a tray.\n\n\"Eat,\" said one of the men.\n\nThe last thing I had eaten was a quesarito several hours earlier. My stomach grumbled at the suggestion but I wondered if it would be wise.\n\n\"What's going on?\" I asked.\n\n\"Eat. No empty stomach.\"\n\nI picked up the fork and took a bite of the salad, taking slow, deliberate chews. It was a pretty unpleasant experience, being carefully watched in complete, immovable silence by two cromagnons as I ate a salad.\n\nWhen I finished, one of them handed me a small, round capsule with no imprint on it along with the glass of water from the tray.\n\n\"Take this,\" he said.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\nPredictably there was no answer. At that point I honestly would have done anything anybody told me to. My adult life began that morning in a house of rampant neglect and alcoholism and was now possibly going to end in a deserted warehouse. I didn't care. I took the pill from him and swallowed it.\n\n--------\n\nMy mother was 18 years old when she gave birth to me. The father was a drinker, and abusive. They had already decided to get an abortion. Her parents, who were well off financially and also deeply religious, offered her ten grand and put a down payment on a house for her. They promised to continue paying her mortgage and sending her money as long as she didnt abort me. Being a blossoming drunkard at the time, she saw opportunity. With that, my mother accepted the offer and thus began her journey into teenage parenthood, for which she was fantastically unprepared.\n\nI don't know what I expected from that pill. My high school years had been riddled with psychedelic use. I had learned not to expect anything from drugs and to simply let the effect happen, whatever it may be. Of course this mantra really only works if you're in a safe place with safe people and plenty of time.\n\nI sat there for what felt like hours before it kicked in, thinking about how other people's choices seemed to have more effect on my life than mine did. Maybe taking this pill would be the one choice I would make that would change my life forever by ending it. I thought about the day I was born, and how my mother had allowed me to exist at all even though it ruined both of our lives. At that point I was still convinced it was poison.\n\nThen I felt it...the keen, hollow, metallic feeling. The texture of the couch became much more interesting, even as it melted away. The faces of the cromagnons lightened up; their grimaces became grins, even as some unseen hand wiped them away. The food in front of me was gone. I raised my arms for Heaven, or Hell, or DMT entities, or whoever would accept me. \n\nIt occurred to me, at that point, that I was, in fact, lying down on a very hard surface and it was much darker than it had been. The air was cooler as well, like a warm summer night. I got the impression that some sort of passage of time had taken place. It took me a moment to recover my frame of reference. I remembered taking the pill. Had I passed out? It was entirely possible the goons had simply dumped me here after having their way with me or my internal organs. Or perhaps this was Hell.\n\nI reached for my phone. It said there was no signal, which didn't surprise me. My mother had probably removed me from the plan. No matter, I thought. I could sell the thing for some extra cash.\n\nI remembered the cabbie had driven nearly 2 hours to get to wherever we had been, and who knew where I was at this point.\n\nI sat up and used my phone as a light source to examine my surroundings. I found a dumpster and a brick wall. Great. An alley. I checked my torso for scars. I found none. No internal organs missing.\n\nI followed the light coming from around the corner and came upon a sliding glass door. I walked in. I had to go to the bathroom, and I thought peeing in an alley would be a bit much.\n\nI entered what turned out to be a hospital waiting area and looked around for the bathroom.\n\n\"Hey, could I see Val Mauser?\"\n\nThis voice came from behind me. I froze.\n\nI heard another voice, \"It looks like she's not accepting any visitors right n--\"\n\n\"I'M THE FATHER OF THE BABY YOU FUCKWIT, THATS MY SON IN THERE!\"\n\nStill too afraid to turn around I asked the nearest person to me--a squeamish looking woman in a wheel chair who was leaning toward the ruckus to overhear--what the date was.\n\n\"It's the 8th,\" she said, barely looking at me as she focused on the argument behind me.\n\n\"Of what month and year?\"\n\nShe frowned and finally looked at me. \"It's July 8th, 1997...\" she said slowly, as if she were talking to a daft child, and looked past me again.\n\nI could do no more than stare at her until I developed the courage to turn around and look at what I had confirmed to be my father.\n\nAt this point he had made his way into the hallway beyond the waiting room, against the front desk woman's pleas, and was presumably making his way toward my mother, Val Mauser, where I was probably spending my first couple of miserable hours.\n\nI took advantage of the staff's preoccupation with my estranged father and simply wormed my way through the hall. I followed a sign that said 'Maternity Ward.'\n\nEventually I heard the sound of a baby wailing. It wasn't a very crowded hospital. There was something oddly familiar about the crying. Perhaps it was because I knew it had to be mine, but it sounded like I did when I was alone and wailing into my pillow. I tried not to think about how weird this trip was turning out to be and walked into the room.\n\nThere I saw a younger version of my mother, holding a new born infant with an apparent awkwardness. \n\nBeing the tactful person I am I immediately burst out with, \"You shouldn't keep that baby.\"\n\nMy mother gave me an uncannily familiar look of barely concealed relief and said, \"Why not?\"\n\n\"Because you really don't want to, anyhow, and you're just going to want to get rid of it in 18 years anyway. It'll be nothing but an inconvenience to you.\"\n\nI realized my mother was already drunk. She picked the baby version of me up by the nape of its neck like you would a kitten and offered it to me.\n\n\"You take it then. I won't tell anyone. I don't want it anyway.\" \n\nI stared in disbelief.\n\n\"Go on. You're right. Major inconvenience. Not worth it. You seem like a good person or something. You take it.\"\n\nI had no idea how to hold a baby but I just wanted to stop it from crying. I took it from the bottom and cradled it like I've seen in movies.\n\nMy mother was gone by now, before I even had a chance to protest.\n\nI felt my past disappear behind my eyes. The more I handled this baby the less I existed. My mother's abandonment had freed me. It was the best choice she ever made.\n\n\n\n", "This is my first ever attempt at something like this, sorry for any grammar or spelling mistakes...\n\nIt’s time, I will be the first Chrononaught. Months of testing, hours of training, and if I was not training I was reading history. Learning all that I could because this is a one way trip, no one knows how far back I will go, but the excitement keeps me focused.\n\nPlans have being made selecting sites for clues that it worked, places to leave a message to the future that I made it. No one dared look in these locations, instead they were just memorized by me with an agreed system to let the future know I arrived and how far back I went. Even back to the days of the dinosaurs was taken into account, memorizing possible locations for 100 square KM. The theoretical physicists were sure that I would arrive somewhere in past time, most likely in the place I left, but not 100% sure. So we tried to take even that that into account in my training.\n\nI walked towards the chair, this is it, the room was buzzing with activity but it was impossible to discern everything. Techs doing their jobs, blinking lights everywhere, computer terminals with so much information on them that I didn’t even bother to look. Just white noise, I must focus on this mission, the excitement was taking over I felt so euphoric that I could hardly contain myself, failure has never being an option for me.\n\nThe chair is a simple aluminum lazy-boy…haha, for comfort. No padding just cold aluminum to sit on. I sat down and felt the rigidness of the chair instantly, and my back already felt bad, and my butt is cold and in some pain but I can deal. It’s surprising nothing was being strapped to me or stuck on me, something about the metals affecting the magnetic field required to push me through time? I don’t understand that, it wasn’t my job. I was allowed to wear a simple spandex jumpsuit but that is all.\n\nPhil, the lead Scientist walked up to me with a fake smile on his face, he looked scared, “So Jim, are you ready for this? No second thoughts or words you want to leave us with?”\n\n“Simple Phil, let’s get this show on the road.” I said with a smile so everyone knew I was not scared I was happy and excited.\n\nPhil smiled again almost calm, shook my hand then turned and said loudly, “Lets begin, everyone past the affected line.” Everyone double checked their positions looking down, a big 4 inch thick red line was painted in a circle around me, the Magnetic field should only expand to this point within a few inches.\n\nWith that I heard a clack of a relay as power was now flowing into the device above my head. I could feel a charge building the hairs on my arms were standing up, but the jumpsuit hid that. Slowly I heard one tech counting out, “10, 9, 8, 7” there was a noise that was rising in power it was hard to hear the Tech continue,”6, 5, 4, 3, 2,”\n\nTech 2 yelled out over the loud hum of the machines, “Power Spike, Magnetic field expanding…”\n\nTech 1 continued, “1, TIME WAR…”\n\nThere was a flash of light so bright I could feel everything in me being pushed down like I was folding inside myself but yet I felt no pain just like I was being squished through something, I remember a scientist saying something about creating a micro worm hole no bigger than the width of 2 atoms, and I would be sent though like water through a straw so there may be some discomfort, and he was right, I saw the lab in the background faintly in the light start to warp and stretch away from me. Then before I could realize what was happening, I saw the lab stretch around me from behind and appear just as it was, and suddenly I could hear again, things seemed normal. All I could think was, “IT DIDN’T WORK!!!” as I was about to say something I heard, Tech 1, “TIME WAR…”.\n\nThere was a flash of light so bright I could feel everything in me being pushed down like I was folding inside myself again, the same discomfort as the micro wormhole pulled me in again. The bright light, and the lab being stretched away and then stretching around me from behind appearing just as it was, and suddenly I could hear again and I tried to speak but my mouth couldn’t open fast enough.\n\nTech 1, “TIME WAR…”\n\nThere was a flash of light so bright I could feel everything in me being pushed down like I was folding inside myself again, the same discomfort as the micro wormhole pulled me in again. The bright light, the lab being stretched just as before, I could see it faintly stretching around me again so I readied myself say something this time, but I was frozen until everything returned to normal. I took in air quick and began to speak.\n\nTech 1, “TIME WAR…”\n\n“AGAIN!!! WHY ME”, the process looped again, “how can I stop this.”, I thought as I heard…\n\nTech 1, “Time War…”\n\nThis is insane, what do I do? I can’t think of a reaction fast enough to signal them, so what do I do. Here it comes again….\n\nTech 1, “Time War…”\n\nAll I can think about is what one scientist brought up in a meeting months before, that he figured we would only be able to go back in time to the moment we first achieved the ability, well we achieved it about 1 second before we attempted it.\n\nTech 1, “Time War…”\n\nThis chair is really starting to bug me now, and I can’t move….What do I do?\n\nTech 1, “Time War…”\n\nHow long will this go on for? I think I am officially in Hell now.\n\nTech 1, “Time War…”\n" ]	2
	[WP] In life, you sold your soul to as many entities as possible so that when you died they would have to fight each other for it.	[ "Dying takes forever.\n\nDon't get me wrong, all the farewells were touching--hell, some of them were even sincere. But when you've had cancer for as long as I've had, people just expect you to hurry up and go, so they can get on with their lives.\n\nFinally, the pain stopped. I sat up, stood out of bed, and turned around to look at my meat suit. Wonderful. No fewer than six dozen demons should be here any minute to claim my soul for hell.\n\nI'M HERE.\n\nA chill traveled down my spine, and I felt a compulsion to turn around. A balding man in a black suit stood by the door.\n\n\"Which one are you?\" I asked. \"Azazel? Abaddon? Moloch?\"\n\nALL OF THEM.\n\n\"...What do you mean?\"\n\nI AM ALL. ALL AM I. COME NOW, AN ETERNITY AWAITS.\n\nI sighed, and followed him into the night.\n\n", "When you tell someone you have no soul, they look at you like you are some kind of monster. Like they expect you to be some kind of cat killing, baby stealing psychopath. But the truth is, I don't know what a soul changes. I still feel sympathy, I still love, hate and laugh like all normal people. I still show up in mirrors. \n\nBut when you tell people you sold your soul, the first thing they will ask you is: \"For what?\". As if any distatse they have about your lack of soul is secondary when compaired to the amazing talents and wealth and knowledge I must have traded my soul for. Truth is, souls don't sell for the same as they used to. You see, no matter what you are selling, however cheap or expensive, it all comes down to supply and demand. And the world has a population of nearly 8 billion.\n\nPlenty of souls for everyone. And I've sold mine enough times for everybody. \n\nThe first time I was sixteen, summer of love, 1967. I sold my soul to a dealer, of souls and drugs, for a pill of LSD. But as most people know, you give your soul to a devil in credit, it is removed from your body, yes, but it cannot be collected until you are dead. So, when I finally end my time on this Earth, my eternal damnation will be just that, damnation. \n\nBut nothing changed on Earth. Still hasn't. Truth be told, I don't know if anything will change after I die, either. See, the Summer of Love was a drug fueled, psychedelic time for more than just mortals. Turns out my soul was lost, all records of it gone, even the devil himself can't have it when I die. This was also around the time I started spiraling into existentialism, and so, without dragging on about it, I decided to make up for my lost eternity in paradise by living a full life on Earth. \n\nSo I did the only sane thing: sold my soul again. And again, and again.\n\nBut back in the 70's you could get a fair price for your soul, so long as you remembered to sell it to someone different each time, different dealers meant different devils which meant travelling. So that's when I made my way around the world, selling my soul for anything I wanted. The damn thing was still missing as far as I could tell, meant nothing to me, dealers obviously thought I was selling them something. Maybe one day I'll find out what happened to my ticket to heaven. \n\nMaybe on that day, when my body finally gives out and I stop buying more years, maybe on that day when I let myself die. Maybe then I will know what happened to my soul. And on that day when I finally face a life time of debt and soul-stealing, then I will face the true punishment from the countless devils I have cheated. \n\nToday will be that day. I've known all my life that I must face the consequences of my lies and truth be told, I'm scared. \n\nBut this day has been a long time in coming. I'm old and frail and weak. My existence on Earth itself is an agony. I'm ready for the great beyond, whatever lies behind the veil of white and black light. I just need to let go now, I've bought no more time. I deserve to die, I'm an abomination who has lived too long. Lived terribly. \n\nWhen you tell people that you have no soul they expect some heartless, emotionless psychopath. But I still love, laugh, cry, hate and smile. \nI still get afraid. When they see you they see a monster. I've been telling my self my whole life that I am no monster. But I am. I'm a hideous excuse for a human, a self absorbed, shambling mess whose devoted his whole life to the exploitation of his own soul. \n\nIn my life of cheating demons I have become the very thing I laughed in the face of. So when I face the debt of the hundreds of devils I have cheated throughout my life, I will feel no fear, for I will be in the company of my own. \n\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nI'm not even sure if I like this anymore but I'll post it anyway. Doesn't really answer the prompt very well but I guess I could continue it to show what happens after the character dies. Let me know what you think. Thanks for the prompt... :)\n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] You're a veteran pro-wrestler facing off against new meat. The other guy suddenly veers wildly off script.	[ "\"Marty, good news. You're the main event tonight.\" My manager Paul said as he walked up beside me while I was working out at the gym.\n\nI turned off the treadmill, stepped down, and faced him. \"Main event...? Haha. What year is it? 2005?\"\n\nOh good old 2005...\n\nHere's the thing. I have been a professional wrestler for 14 years now. I've had my ups and downs, I've won a lot of championships, and, of course, I have been in countless main events. But that stuff's already done. In the books. Past. Finished. Concluded. History... I could go on... but whatever.\n\nI'm getting kinda rusty anyway. I'm not as good as I used to be back in the day anymore. At one point in time, I was the poster boy for this entire company... but now I'm just another famous professional wrestler.\n\nThe show's already being inherited by fresh new up-and-comers. Younger guys... faster, stronger, more athletic and skilled. And it's pretty obvious that times have changed. Now, the fans love them more than they love me.\n\n\"Oh, but I'm serious Mart. Big Boss just called me up this morning. He really, really, really wants you to be in the main event tonight. I can't even stress enough how much he wants you to be there.\"\n\n\"Okay, so who's the lucky guy going to be? Who am I facing tonight?\" I asked Paul.\n\n\"It's going to be a new guy.\"\n\n\"A new guy? He's a new wrestler and the first match he's going to be in is in a main event!? And against someone as legendary as me? Come on Paul, this is ridiculous. Heck, when I started out in the independent scene in 1999, I had to bust my ass off there and I had to fight my way into the main event. I climbed that ladder to the top. How many injuries did I suffer Paul?\"\n\n\"Seven---\"\n\n\"Eight. It was eight, Paul. You didn't count that other neck injury because I said 'It doesn't hurt, I'll still fight'. I was the main event on that night Paul, I'll never forget it. January 30, 2005. I didn't want to miss it for the world. I ignored my broken neck just to be in a main event... and now you're telling me that this new guy's just gonna march in to this business and take a main event like it's nothing special? That's dumb.\"\n\n\"Well... it isn't as bad as you'd thought it would be Mart. Big Boss says you're going to win this one.\"\n\nOkay. Let me get this straight. I'm going to fight a new guy and I'm going to just beat him up and make him lose his first wrestling match ever... Now I'm starting to feel bad for this guy. But still... it's a main event, I'll take it. \n\nAnd it's not an entirely bad thing for this young wrestler either. Think about it, his first match ever, is going to be a main event against someone like me. Win or lose, he's going to walk out of that fight a winner.\n\nWe went to the stadium where the event would be held at around 8 in the evening, an hour before the wrestling show actually begins. I had the opportunity to meet the guy I was going to face backstage. He looked alright... but he didn't look anything like a wrestler at all.\n\nHe was a lot smaller than me. It was a bit awkward when I first saw him.\n\n\"Hey Marty that's the guy.\" Paul whispered to me as he passed by. I stood up from my seat to shake his hand. The height difference was incredibly obvious. I saw the shock in his eyes when he saw how big my hand was compared to his. \n\n\"See you in the ring, kid.\" I told him in the most masculine voice I could make.\n\nI waited for him to leave before I went back to Paul.\n\n\"Paul is this a prank? Please don't tell me that guy's a wrestler. He looked like he works here as a janitor. Good grief Paul he literally looks like a piece of meat compared to me! Of course I'm going to win this match. I can imagine it right now, how surprised the audience would be if a guy like that would be able to beat me.\"\n\n\"Honestly Mart, I don't get it either. All I know is it was the Big Boss himself that brought him into this. He said that this new guy was 'special'.\"\n\nI wanted to argue with Paul some more but when he said the word 'special', I just blew up. How could a guy, that looks like a training dummy, be special? I cleared my mind of angry thoughts and proceeded to walk away from backstage.\n\n\"Let's just do this real quick Marty. Walk in, beat the 'special' guy, walk out, and get your money. That's it and we're done.\" I told myself as I entered the arena.\n\nOnce I got out of the curtains, I got greeted by mixed reactions. Some fans were cheering, very glad to see me again, while some were violently booing, chanting \"PLEASE RETIRE!\" in unison.\n\n\"I missed you guys too!\" I said to the fans as I made my way into the ring.\n\nAnd here comes the new guy. The crowd was dead silent while he was coming up to me with a determined expression on his face. I could see some of them laughing, while others were just staring at him with confusion. They must've had the same thought as I did... \"How is this guy a wrestler?\"\n\nDon't get me wrong with this one, I really loved the David and Goliath story, and any underdog story for that matter, but remember when I said this guy looked like he was a piece meat? Well after tonight, he's going to be dead meat.\n\nThe referee signaled for the start of the match, the bell rung and the fight began. Wonder how the fans are feeling about this? They must be thinking they didn't get their money's worth.\n\n\"Hey kid, since this is your first match, let me be a bit easier on you. I'm going to let you give me a few punches, just to impress the audience, and then we'll get to having me beat you.\"\n\nHe ignored my message completely and just fiercely looked me in the eyes.\n\n\"... What kid? You don't understand English? You Russian or something...?\"\n\nHe bounced around and put his hands up, still looking me in the eyes.\n\n\"Ah, never mind, let's proceed to the having me beat you part---\"\n\nAnd all of a sudden he charged. He gripped my head in a lock and wouldn't let go. Wow this kid is strong, stronger than I expected. Maybe he did understand the 'give me a few punches' command I told to him... it's just... he's doing it more furiously to impress the fans even more... right?\n\nI struggled to get his grip off but I just couldn't. This kid works out for sure. He threw me forward and I stumbled to the floor in complete awe.\n\n\"OOOOH!\" was all I was hearing from the crowd.\n\n\"Okay, my turn now, huh?---\" I mumbled out as I was standing up, when all of a sudden he tackled me and we both went down hard.\n\n\"THIS IS AWESOME!\" The fans started to cheer and chant. It's awesome? Well it's off script too.\n\nHe continued punching me mercilessly while I was down and out. The referee realized that me getting pummeled wasn't part of the plan the moment I started gushing blood from my mouth. The ref tried to pull the new kid away from me, but he continued to blast me in the jaw with all his might. \n\nMore refs began to enter the ring. Now there were like 7 of them trying to get this guy off me. He stopped hitting me and stood up. He turned to the first referee he saw in sight and began a brawl. It was seven against one, and he was winning. I couldn't believe how powerful this kid is. \n\n\"YES! YES! YES!\" the audience was loving it. They were going crazy for this guy. I saw almost all of them on their feet. And here I am, lying on the ground... I can't even stand up.\n\nAfter he was done with the referees, He picked me up from the mat and threw me out of there like I was a piece of garbage. And there he was, alone in the ring in triumph, with the entire stadium applauding him for a beatdown well done. This is nuts.\n\nThe last scene I could remember was the Big Boss coming out of the curtains along with Paul. Big Boss proceeded to the ring where he raised the hand of the new guy. \n\n\"YEAH!\" Everyone went bananas.\n\nPaul approached me. \"You know Marty, in this business, sometimes you have to spice things up a little... Sometimes... we do things that don't go according to what was originally planned. Sometimes... we keep in store surprises... for everyone... even for the superstars like you.\"\n\n\"Wait you knew about this!?\" I yelled at him while I was lying down helpless.\n\n\"This isn't a prank Mart. I'm sorry. This is just business. We just always prioritize what's best for business.\" He told me as he walked out from me and entered the ring.\n\n\"Ladies and Gentlemen, what you saw tonight was not just a debut of a new talent... what you saw tonight was absolute destruction. Absolute destruction courtesy of the future of professional wrestling itself... I'm telling you folks, this name's going to be a name you won't be forgetting in a very long time, make sure you remember it... The war machine JOJO JERKINS!!!\" Paul said on the mic as he pointed his finger to the guy that destroyed my face.", "\"They brought me back here today, La Muerte Cansado, to break you in! You see, it's fresh meat like you that keeps this interesting for the big boys! Bear in mind, kid, that you are nothing, a speck of dust on the track of my boot. Are you ready to be pummled?\"\n\nWhat the newbie said next caught me off guard. With a very Mexican accent, he responded, \"Yessir.\"\n\nI stuttered, which was very out of character for me. \"Well... Then l-let's get this done!\"\n\n\"Okay, but mi niños are waiting for me at the dinner table. Could we make this fast, please?\" The sincerity in his tone took me completely by surprise.\n\n\"I can't wait to crush you!\" I roared as I charged the lanky man in his ridiculous leotard.\n\nThat night I woke up in the hospital with three broken ribs and an apology note tucked into my tights: \"I wish I could have made our fight a little more interesting, but I really was in a hurry. Thank you for a fun first fight, Ripskull Vandercrush.\n\nSincerely La Muerte Cansado\"\n\n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] An incessantly lucky person experiences misfortune for the first time	[ "I discovered my luck when I was eight years old. That is too early to figure out there’s something special about you. It gets you cocky. I wasn’t special in any measurable sense, but everyone who knew me understood what it was. I did too. Everyone called me lucky. I called myself lucky. It’s just how things went. I could guess what cards people were holding up out of a deck occasionally or, when I got older, randomly buy a scratch off and win. I would always say ‘It was a once in a life time thing’ when people asked me to repeat these feats. I didn’t want to press my luck. It worked out. As long as I didn’t push it, I would be lucky when I needed to be.\n\nMy luckiest moment was meeting my wife. She could have anyone. Absolutely gorgeous. Brown hair, deep brown eyes, and a smile that could to wrench a reciprocal smile from anyone. The first time I saw her was in the subway. I was sitting down reading the sports section of a newspaper that was left behind. I had a good feeling about the Yankees tonight. Too bad I hate sports. Anyway, this girl walked on and we shared a glance. She smiled and looked away. That’s all it took. Smitten and embolden by a life of making right decisions, I asked her out for coffee. Three years later we have a little boy soon followed by a little girl. Exactly what I wanted. Exactly what we wanted. My life was a series of fortunate event followed by fortunate event. \n\nThen one night I’m just watching the love of my life struggling for her life. They told me the driver was drunk, like that mattered. I prayed to god, I prayed to whatever this thing I have is, I prayed to anything. I just want her to be ok. I said that I would give up everything for her. Anything for her. She died that night. I was a mess and I just couldn’t understand how something like this could happen to me. It just can’t.\n\nI don’t try to guess what playing cards people have anymore.\n \n\n" ]	1
A quote from my own work, but just curious what stories others think of when they hear it without context.	[WP] "It was unsettling to know that they had been watching me the whole time, but I felt foolish for ever thinking that they weren’t."	[ "Why would they be watching me? Do they have a fetish for this type of thing? I sat there and pulled my phone out - best to ignore them. As I browsed reddit, I thought about the way my life had turned out. Overall it wasn't bad - little bedsit, enough money to live on if not go out much. No woman in my life, but then I never was the popular guy. At that moment I glanced up to see the most stunning woman walk by - blonde hair down to her waist, long slim legs tanned to golden perfection. she kept staring at me, and I thought maybe I had a shot here, although surely she's way out of my league. I smiled at her and gave a slight wave. The look on her face turned to one of complete disgust and she hurried away. The rest of the store all seemed to be staring still, some whispering to each other.\nAt that moment the manager came over. What does he want? Can't people leave me alone. This type of thing is normally private.\n\"Sir\", he says. \"This is a show toilet, not the bathrooms. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave\"", "I never really gave it much thought. Why would I? I have had a comfortable life. I was living in a big beautiful newly-built home. Well, I was there since it was new anyway, it's been six years. But my home has always been kept clean and as pristine as the day we all moved in.\n\nLife was so easy for me. I didn't do much really, just hang out in my favorite place, the living room. It was funny, the family would usually sit on the couch, sometimes at the table on the other end, and I'd just watch them. I'd watch them for hours sometimes, chuckling at their conversations and corny comments. Sometimes I'd cry with them when something devastating would come across the news.\n\nMy favorite was the baby. He was born a year after we all moved in and I had watched him grow all these years, from a constant crier, to quite an intelligent young boy. For the last year or so, I'd watch him as he sat down in his favorite place and learn at an accelerated pace. Quite a remarkable young man. I had the privilege of having a part in his intellectual growth and was pleased when I heard that he was already being evaluated at a third-grade level even though he was only in kindergarten. Quite the child prodigy he is becoming.\n\nSo a few weeks ago I started to not feel so well. My vision had started deteriorating and it progressed very rapidly. I watched my family as they reacted in many different ways. It was interesting yet eerily disheartening as the situation unfolded. At first they seemed confused, not at all an unreasonable reaction, I also was quite confused. I was too young to be experiencing such symptoms.\n\nBut confusion quickly grew to frustration, frustration to anger. I never ever thought that I would be the victim of physical abuse. Especially since I was the one who was sick. I really thought this was a kind family, but nothing brings out the dark side of people like when things aren't going their way. I watched them, I watched them change. I watched them go from loving and fun, to outright evil and abusive.\n\nFinally the day came. The day they got rid of me. If you can believe this, they simply picked me up one day, took me outside and threw me to the curb, literally. The last thing I remember was watching a van pull into the drive way and two delivery men taking a box into the house. On the side of the box were the words \"HD 1080P.\"\n\nIt was unsettling to know that they had been watching me the whole time, but I felt foolish for ever thinking that they weren’t.", "I've always had a thing with mirrors. I say thing because I can't say its a fear, but I can't say it's ever been real before. \n\nMirrors have always had these unsettling feeling to me, so much so that I developed a habit of covering mirrors when doing things like using the bathroom or taking a shower. \n\nJust something about them constantly makes me feel off, depending on the setting. I think mirrors are so cool, but personal mirrors kinda spook me out a bit. Like something just wasn't right. It's one of those things to me that I am constantly aware of. But I treat it as a personal thing and not really as a real thing, you know? I just don't like personal mirrors. \n\n \nIn a leaked file from the NSA there was observations and a strong indication of some sort of 'thing'(they didn't exactly know what it was) interexpanding into reality through mirrors.\n\nI always knew that I didn't like them too much, but I was just really hoping it was just a phase.", "\"No sudden moves, Menite. I got a dozen rifles and a 'jack aiming at that shiny Menofix on your chest. So unless you want to meet your Creator, you'd best behave.\"\n\nFrom behind his half-mask, Corvin Mallory smiled. Perfect.\n\nThe voice continued, a woman's voice.\n\n\"I want that fancy blade of yours to hit dirt and your hands to find their way to the back of your head.\"\n\nHe did as he was ordered, stabbing his glaive into the soil like it was a banner and lacing his armored fingers behind him.\n\n\"Now, who in the Hell are you?\"\n\nHe turned his head towards the voice, his own crossing the distance.\n\n\"I am Corvin Mallory, warrior of the faith and Spear of Deliverance. I have a message for your commanding officer.\"\n\n\"Mallory... the Hierarch's executioner?\"\n\nThe armored Sul-Menite warcaster gave a decidedly unknightlike snort and shook his head once. \n\n\"Of course not. That honor belongs to the High Executioner Reznik- I am Hierarch Severius' assassin.\"\n\n\"You're the one who murdered Commander Jethro Haramore last winter are you not?\"\n\n\"I did not murder him; he was a armed combatant and an enemy of Menoth. But that is neither the here nor now. Will you allow me to speak to your commander, or should I merely leave? If you refuse me both, I guarantee you that you won't win.\"\n\n\"You're outnumbered twenty to one and we have a 'jack.\"\n\nCorvin Mallory shrugged underneath his armor. \n\n\"Numbers mean little to one of Menoth's servants. Again, may I speak to him?\"\n\n\".... Fine. But the weapon stays here. Don't touch anyone or anything; don't even blink or I'll slot a bullet in your oh-so-holy skull.\"\n\nThe woman who came out of the trees wore the armored great coat of one of Cygnar's famed gun mages. Maybe in her late thirties, her auburn hair was tinged with grey. The infamous weapon of her eponymous order was held in her hands, its sorcerous barrel glowing faintly in the dusk's dying light. \n\n\"You're a lot shorter than I thought you'd be.\" She said, the looming barrel of her pistol never leaving his torso.\n\n\"So they say. Ladies first?\"\n\nThe gun mage captain shook her head, the faintest of smiles on her lips.\n\n\"Nice try, Menite. Guests first.\"\n\nWith that they moved towards the Cygnar rear, leaving a beautifully crafted blade in the earth.\n\n " ]	4
	[WP] MCing. DJing. B-boying. Graffiti. Only the Avatar can master all four elements and bring balance to hip hop.	[ "\"What the fuck are we doin' here? The city is 20 miles back that way. You ain't goin' to find a B-boy master out in the boonies!\" D-Lish continued to yell over the wind from the Motorcycle's Sidecar. \n\n\"Do you see the guy on the right in the newspaper photo?\" D-Lish picked up the newspaper from the floor and clutched it to his knees to keep it from blowing away.\n\n\"Mo-Fo with a Pompadour?\"\n\n\"That's the King of Pop from 2 generations ago. He's the perfect master to teach me how to break a leg,\" Bill said without a trace of irony in his voice.\n\n\"Break a... That's the dumbest shit you ever said! No one knows where the King went, what makes you think you know that's him?\"\n\n\"You know how sometimes I can see memories of my past lives?\"\n\n\"Yeh\"\n\n\"In a previous life, he was my father-in-law. It's the same diner.\" \n...\n\nOutside Jessie's Pit-Stop, D-Lish and Bill stared through the window to see the man from the picture eating in the exact same spot again.\n\"What are you gonna say to the dude? 'Remember when I did your daughter, wanna teach me to dance?'\" D-Lish still wasn't convinced this even WAS Elvis Presley; King of pop from generations past.\n\n\"Something to that effect.\" Bill started walking into the diner while D-Lish was still stunned by his dead-pan humor. Bill walked straight in, down to the booth, and sat down straight across from Elvis. D-Lish hurriedly caught up to sit down next to him. Elvis stared grumpily at the intruders, hash browns dangling from his un-moving fork. They sat in awkward silence for a minute.\n\nElvis began to speak \"What do you...\" which cued Bill to interrupt him.\n\n\"Teach me how to dance.\"\n\n\"What? No. Why?\"\n\nBill's eyes suddenly gleamed with power, \"Remember me, Dad? Shamone The Avatar needs you to teach me to dance. Hee-hee\" Bill's eyes faded again as the spirit of the past pop Avatar left his body.\n\n\"What the fuck was that shit!\" yelled D-Lish, still unused to the variety of powers available to Bill.\n\n\"I know what that was, and you need to get your candyass out-a-here before I go ape on you!\" Elvis said, attempting to point his fork in the young hoodlums' faces.\n\n\"Wait! Wait man!\" yelled D-Lish as he dodged repeated jabs of the fork.\n\n\"Please, I have to relearn to dance again. A solar flare will knock out all electronic equipment in three weeks. No mic's, no audio mixers: MC-ing and DJ-ing will be useless. The Hong-10 are going to use the opportunity to take Las Vegas from the Rat Pack while they're defenseless. The Rat Pack are my people. Please, we need your help. The Rat Pack needs your help.\"\n\nElvis stopped trying to stab D-Lish when he heard the Rat Pack mentioned.\n\n\"It was their turn in the cycle of reincarnation, wasn't it?\" Elvis leaned back in the booth and appeared to be having a flashback. Bill and D-Lish just looked at each other as they waited for Elvis to finish... They continued waiting. After a few minutes the waitress came by and asked them if they wanted to order, but they politely declined. Elvis continued to sit with his head leaned back, staring up into the ceiling with a wry smile across his face. The waitress then told them this was not a flashback; Elvis used heavy painkillers and was just in a drug-addled daze. She then showed them how to wake him:\n\n\"Your tab's due Presley!\"\n\n\"You old Miser! You'll get your money, Mickey, at the end of the month!\" Elvis suddenly leaned forward yelling at the youths. He then looked confused, cleared his throat, and said, \"I do owe the Rat pack, so I guess I'll help you. Why don't you show me what you can do?\" \n\nSuddenly Bill looked sheepish, \"what, right here? In front of all these people?\" Other than D-Lish and Elvis, the only 2 other people were the waitress and a trucker at the far end of the counter.\n\n\"Ya always were a Candyass\" Elvis said as he got up and walked over to an old-style jukebox. He fished two quarters out of his pocket and began playing What's New Pussycat. \"Alright, let's see it.\" D-Lish and Bill both stood up out of the booth, standing awkwardly in front of Elvis. Bill began to shuffle side to side, holding one fist back and one fist forward at waist level, alternating every two bounces.\n\n\"Aw hell no, I'm not bein' associated with this,\" said D-Lish, looking horrified as he moved beside Elvis. They began commentating on how awful Bill's dancing was.\n\n\"Whew, you boys weren't kidding about needing help.\"\n\n\"I swear I never seen him do this before, or I would have put a stop to it.\"\n\n\"Find your hips boy, ya need to use your hips!\"\nBill hunched forward, sticking his butt out, but still bouncing in place stiffly.\n\n\"Not your waist, your hips! Are you a candyass and a virgin to?\"\n\n\"Go back in your past life and remember what you did to his daughter man.\"\nElvis shot a side-eyed glance at D-Lish's comment, then said,\n\n\"Try to remember whatever your negro friend does and just do that for now.\"\n\n\"Whaaat? Oh you think just because I'm black I can dance? That's some ol' racist shit Grandpa.\"\nBill began doing the sprinkler.\n\n\"Hey man stop that shit. You ain't never seen me do that. Quit embarrassing us.\" \nAt that point Bill stopped dancing and appeared winded.\n\n\"How'd I do?\" he said as the song slowly faded out.\n\n\"You're gonna need to learn to Graffiti the hell out of those B-Boys.\"", "A modified version of a poem I wrote in high school:\n\nHis origins unknown, a mystical man, \nCreated an art form to break from the bland. \nBlessed with an element of rhythm so fluidous, \n“If I add some beat breaks, I can flow with this.”\n\nHe was a DJ, an MC, an artist, and dancer, \nHeld the essence of Hip-hop and wished to romance H.E.R. \nGave birth to the elements, and his sons grew, \nPreached knowledge and peace, not “Art of War” by Sun Tzu. \n\nThe children matured, but most of all, Rap, \nExploited by the Labels for some quick cash. \nRap declined quick from his Golden Years to now, \nCorrupted by the money and his guns went “blaow!” \n\nWe hoped for a savior, his followers too, \nAnd the Avatar arrived, an underground dude. \nHe fought through armies with wordplay and imagery, \nBut shot down by Majors in the middle of delivery. \n\nIt’s an ongoing war fueled by aggression. \nThe Avatar's strife in the face of Rap's suppression. \n", "His name is DJ Lang\n\nThe Avat-Garde in street slang\n\nMarking up the place with multi-colored spray \n\nHe spins the tracks that turn the night\n\nSpeaking on cardboard the universal language of rhythm and dance\n\nBouncing the house with sick tracks\n\nLaying them out on the dance floor\n\nPutting the po' on blast\n\nThe Mayor curses his name,\n\n\"Who considers this cool?\"\n\nHe plays both hero and fool\n\nBlending old and new school\n\nBringing balance to hip-hop\n\nBut don't spit that sick shit to his face\n\nIn a rap battle, the Avat-Garde is an ace\n\nServing his opponents sick notice\n\nSlamming his notes\n\nThe sickest shit he's wrote\n\nIs the best the second-most dope could ever hope to have wrote\n\nSo, in the Avat-Garde we trust\n\nTo bring us justice with sick rhymes \n\nFor he's the One True King of these streets\n\nWaging MLK's legacy in peace\n\nWord to your Gandhi" ]	3
	[WP]How did the crazy cat lady become the crazy cat lady?	[ "NOTE: Sorry if there's some spelling and grammatical errors, wanted to get this out before I left for the day.\n\nThe Cat Lady\n\nHe passed five years ago to the day, a stop and frisk gone wrong. Events aren't clear what transpired after the initial stop, but the end result was my baby on the ground, blood spurting from a hole in his chest and the light slowly draining from eyes and into the nothingness of death. The coroner ruled it a homicide, and how could he not? He was shot with his back turned, running desperately for the fence at the end of the alley and freedom beyond. \n\nOf course the trial was a sham from start to finish, the officer stating that he had \"feared for his life\" after a physical altercation with my husband. It didn't matter that the only person with any marks on him was my husband, his name was dragged through the mud just the same by the defense. \"A petty criminal with a history of reckless behavior.\" They didn't tell the jury that all of his offenses happened before he was 21, or that he had turned his life around. Five years sober, working with addicts at the homeless shelter. They didn't talk about him struggling to find work due to his past, how he had worked his way up from nothing more then a janitor at a machine shop when an old friends dad decided to give him a chance. How he was trying to become a Tool and Dye maker and make a positive contribution after years of destructive behavior. The prosecutor hardly made an effort to hide his bias, the only reason he seemed to have taken the trial up was due to public pressure. No effort was made to restore my husbands name, nor to bring his killer to justice.\n\nI settled the civil suit out of court for a few million, I can't even remember the number anymore. It didn't matter, the hole in my heart went from a small fissure to an expanse I didn't think I could ever fill. I soon became homeless, wandering around town on an old bike I found while I was selling my house and all my belongings. One day, I woke under an underpass to a cat staring at me from inches away. I shot out of bed from the shock and grabbed the lead pipe I kept under my pillow, holding it out in front of me menacingly. The cat just regarded me with it's unnerving eyes, not moving an inch. I caught my breath and set the pipe down, and immediately the cat ran up to me and began purrin, rubbing itself against my legs in a figure 8.\n\nAs soon as Mr. Meowsers touched me that first time, my life began to change. The hole in my heart hadn't disappeared, but the paralyzing effect it had on my life seemed to slowly disappear. Mr. Meowsers followed me everywhere that summer, keeping me company and opening my heart back up to emotions I thought I'd never be able to feel again. One day, he led me to a box of kittens that someone had left down an alley behind an animal shelter. I knew immediately what I had to do. I bought a house on the outskirts of town and slowly outfitted the place to be a safe haven for cats. Soon, my cats went from seven in number to two dozen.\n\nPeople in town whispered about me but I didn't care. I didn't have any neighbors and I was keeping the stray numbers down, so there seemed to be an agreement in town that I was a necessary, if not entirely tolerable evil. Soon people were leaving cats at my door, forgotten children deemed unworthy of love. I took them all in, I could never say no. They were the thread I used to sew my heart back into one whole. My reason to not give into the despair just under the surface, looking for a way to escape my lips\n\n\nOne day a company began buying up all the land around my house and approached me with an offer that I \"couldn't refuse.\" Not realizing my resolve, the company tried in vain to buy over the next year or two, becoming increasingly incensed at my refusal. Cars started driving through my once deserted section of town, sometimes creeping so slowly as they went by I was afraid I was going to be a victim of a drive by. One night a brick went through my window and I watched as a yellow Trans-Am sped off into the night. Something about the car gave me pause, and so into town I went the next day, searching. The car was unique, and I had a feeling I had seen it before, sometime in a past life.\n\nI searched most of the day, but unable to find anything I was ready to give up. Walking by the police station, I happened to see a flash of yellow, and looking up I saw the yellow Trans-Am pull up to the booth and flash a badge. My heart stopped. Sitting in the front seat, cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth as he spoke to the man in the booth was my husbands killer. A short while later, I watched as he pulled out of the police station and drove down the street. I followed behind him, traffic slowing his progress enough that I could follow on my bike. After awhile, he pulled into an alley and didn't come out. I crept towards the entrance to the alley, took a quick look to make sure he wasn't near the entrance and stepped in.\n\nA little way down the alley, it doglegged to the left into a dead end. I could hear arguing from the entrance. \"Gave that bitch a housewarming present for you\" I froze at the mouth of the dogleg, breath ragged and gripping the stone wall behind me with desperate hands. \n\n\"She's been in the house two years, we're a bit past that at this point,\" Responded another voice, this one much deeper and more controlled.\n\n\"All the same, she is going to leave town soon. I can feel it.\" I peeked down the alley, and saw the cop speaking into the window of a black SUV.\n\nA cloud of smoke rolled through the window and the voice replied, \"And if she isn't?\"\n\n\"I'll take care of her like I took care of her husband when the little bastard wouldn't run my drugs for me. No one is going to stop this project.\" Here was the proof I was looking for all along. The bastard admitted it! He killed my baby over a fucking drug deal. I could feel my heart sinking in my chest, dragging me back down into that pit I'd worked so hard to crawl out of.\n\n\"Good, good. What are your plans to take care of the 'situation'?\" The voice from the car questioned, sounding quite eager to have the deed done.\n\n\"I was thinking she might have a bad gas leak, probably take care of those goddamn cats too. Crazy bitch, one dead husband and she creates a fucking animal kingdom.\" Immediately my resolved returned. This son of a bitch took my husband, he WILL NOT take my cats too. I knew what I had to do. Slowly I slid to the ground and crept underneath his car, found his brake lines and cut them. The talking continued behind me, and I quickly walked to the end of the alley, grabbed my bike and road off a safe distance.\n\nI heard the screeching of tires followed by a scream and immediately after a crash that sounded more like an explosion. I looked from my hiding spot and saw pieces of the Trans-Am strewn about the road. A dump truck was sideways in the middle of the road, a grisly starting point for the explosion of yellow now all about the road. I road towards the wreckage and found the object of my hatred for the last 5 years clinging to life, thrown from his car and into the front end of another passing vehicle. The driver was unconscious in the front seat, breathing heavy and with some cuts and bruises, but otherwise appeared unharmed. \n\nI walked over to the car and looked into the eyes of my enemy. He was conscious, but clearly in pain and could not speak. A flicker of recognition crossed his face and he reached out to me, whether to cry for help or to throttle me I don't know or care. I brought my mouth next to his ear and whispered, \"You know, for the longest time I just wanted to scream at you, do anything to make you feel the pain that I felt when you killed my husband,\" a trickle of blood escaped his lips and he started to open his mouth, and I immediately put a finger over his mouth. \"Your time to speak has passed, you forfeited that right when you lied about killing my husband. As I was saying, one day that changed when I found my cats. I found peace, and if not closure then acceptance of what you did and what you took from me. I was content to let dogs lie and live out the rest of my life with my kitties, alone and content. But you couldn't do that could you? No, a guy like you, can't take his hand out of the cookie jar even when he barely escapes punishment. I just wanted to let you know, that you did this to yourself with that conversation in the alleyway. You started this when you killed my husband. Now have some dignity in your last moments and fucking die.\"\n\nI began to walk away, then turned around and came back to his ear. \"Oh, one more thing. Don't fuck with the 'Cat Lady'.\"\n", "It all started at the shelter.\nSusan walked into her local animal shelter, just to feed the cats, as she always had. She would walk to every cage and feed them cold turkey, and pet them a little bit, then walk away, sad, as the kittens meowed in sadness, as nobody would adopt them. Six years of this had gone to her head, and she finally decided to do something. She went home and chugged all the wine in her house, then turned the left-over bottles into Molotov cocktails. She went into the basement and got her late husband's gun from the war. Now she was drunk and armed.\n\nSusan drove to the bank and threw the cocktails into the windows and watched as the lobby burst into flames. She knew that this kind of destruction would distract all the police. Susan drove down down the street throwing the cocktails into every store she saw. All the death and destruction had totally corrupted her mind, and she started cackling while driving down the street, towards the airport.\n\nOnce there, she took out her husband's gun and ran threw the airport (a very small airport, mind you) and stole a helicopter. In her drunken rage, she carved a path of destruction through the city towards the shelter. She \"landed\" the helicopter on the roof of the shelter and went inside. Susan managed to get every single cat into the helicopter. Once the fuel was running low, many hours later, she tied the cages of cats together and strapped a parachute to them. She put a parachute on herself and jumped out of the helicopter, letting it crash into the American farmland in a magnificent explosion. \n\nSusan now spends her days in a little home in a small town, with her 532 cats. ", "A few months ago, or maybe years- it didn't really matter, but it was just after Thanksgiving, she remembered that much- Annica Barrows owned two cats. Just those two. As she lay on the ground, her face cooling on the wood floor, she could see feet pacing occasionally back and forth from the slit of light under her apartment door; hear the heavy steps of her hugely fat, mostly reclusive-except-to-buy-groceries neighbour as he passed her door to go to his flat down the hall, watch the sneakers of the lady pushing a baby carriage towards the dingy elevator. She could feel grains of kitty litter and food under her cheek and occasionally, she would shift her hand to brush away any particularly offensive grain, but for the most part, she was still. Annica could hear sounds behind her, as well- a near constant shuffling, shifting, mewing, shedding din of her herd, her favourite friends. \n\nHer small apartment, which had previously held herself, Joni and Fargo, now barely accommodated her kitchen table, painstakingly moved up 4 flights of stairs (she remembered how it wouldn't fit in the elevator) or the rickety step stool Steven had left, declaring that he didn't want to leave her without any furniture, even though he had taken their good chairs. The step stool was a hunk of misshapen wood now, but it served a sentimental purpose and Annica used to threaten the stool daily with it's imminent eviction, it didn't really bother her and she stopped caring about it's presence, coming to fear it's absence. Her apartment could accommodate the old china set left to her by her Grandmother, but even still with the painted white cupboards being mostly empty, the cups lay strewn now in the sink, unwashed, and the plates held only traces of the dainty rose pattern that used to lace their edges- now covered in a dust that seemed to have settled itself over everything. Especially over Annica. The apartment could most definitely not accommodate no less than 17 cats, let alone herself. \n\n17, 17... How had it gotten so bad? Annica brushed her cheek, removing whatever dug itself in. She couldn't really remember. She remembered Thanksgiving, and even before that, she remembered the fragile feeling that lay between her and Steven- the feeling that it was more tenuous than most people's feelings were. Like a live wire. Annica, wide eyes always shifting around his face and eyes, searching to find the source of his displeasure, looking to see that everything was okay. Steven, face warm, all smiles, eyes that didn't betray any nervousness- or love, either. Always the are you happy, what are you thinking about, do you love me. Annica was able to feign a sort of levity, a sort of ease that now seemed impossible, for a while. A year? More? Thinking back that far felt like a dream, something she felt so far away from now, as she fixed her gaze to a piece of Iams cat food resting by her door stopper.\n\nShe felt certain, or at least relatively certain, of a few things. There had been a child. Whether it was hers, she remained unsure, but she had loved something else beside Steven. There had always been Joni and Fargo, from the beginning- but where they were now, she wasn't entirely sure, she assumed they were somewhere in the mass behind her, scratching and clawing and constantly yowling to be fed. She knew they hadn't been going outside, so behind her, they would have to be. She remembered Steven's face, not laughing, eyes not meeting, Ann- I think you need... you need serious help, I'm sorry Ann, I really... I swear to God I am and her pleading, begging, even after he was gone. She remembered before that a sensation of loss, deep and profound, murking up her memory and clouding the edges of events. I just can't do this anymore \n\nShe remembered the SNAP, the sensation of all of that fragility, all of that tension recoiling back at her and hitting her like a wall. She remembered stumbling home, a mix of bottle after bottle, prescription medicines- was that before or after? And she remembered when it all got really bad, and then even worse, and then she remembered that it had stopped. \n\nThe first time it subsided was with Marley, the scowling kitten she had found behind the dumpster of her building. She didn't think about it, she scooped him up and up to her apartment she went. Joni and Fargo adopted him happily. The second, third and fourth cat was a surprise to her. One of the neighbours down the hall had asked her to watch the cats- their daughter was allergic and they needed someone to take them while they got ready to move into their new Brownstone. Ziggy, Zag and Snoot were their names, and Annica obliged. But that was a long time ago, Annica surmised from her floor space, and they didn't ever come back for them.\n\nAnd of course, it wasn't long before Ziggy and one of the others took too much of a liking to each other and she went from 6 cats to 12. \n\nDuring this time, she knew that she had to call somebody to get them to be taken away, but she didn't really want to, either. She enjoyed coming home to furry faces pressing up against her legs, mewling and crying out to be fed, loved, watered. She didn't enjoy the stench of the litter boxes- but she cleaned them every day (or at least, she used to) and she was able to manage. Food was a nightmare with how expensive it was, though. \n\nIt was at this point she noticed people in the apartment began to look at her differently.\nMothers would drop eye contact with her, children would beg to come over and play with the cats- and one time, a new family let their daughter come by to pet them after meeting Annica in the elevator. Their daughter squealed when she saw the pets, and sat down right in the middle of the floor and let them snuggle up to her. Annica remembered smiling at the little girl's exclamations of sheer joy as one of the younger kittens - somewhere along the way more kittens had come - nosed her chin and demanded attention. She remembered the brisk knock knock on her door as the girls parents came back to collect her and the dawning expressions of pity and disgust on their faces as Annica opened the door to them, their eyes taking in the soiled newspapers on the ground, the mild stench of feces, booze and urine, the furry mass squirming around their daughter, covering her in a blanket, the filthy floor covered in clothes, take out food containers, empty pill bottles, wine bottles, every type of bottle, fashion magazines. Sorry for the mess she remembers saying blandly, the father walking in and scooping up his daughter from the ground as she protested. Annica remembered offering a weak smile to the mother, who offered one back but, as Annica searched this woman's face, the smile was without warmth. The little girl waved her whole arm at Annica and told her that she'd be back real soon! and mommy can't I pleaaaaase please please have a kitty pleaaaase and the mother and father saying they would talk later and them practically hauling their daughter away from Annica's apartment. \n\nAs she lay on the floor, watching the door, she heard the sound of the ding from the elevator, and dimly thought she heard heavy boots and quiet voices from the hall. do you think she's home I mean it's really just disgusting those poor creatures. You hear of people dying and cats eating them do you think Annica let her thoughts wander back to the pain in her ribs, the feeling of something being very wrong when she breathed- her gaze landing on the now completely shattered old stepstool- why had she tried to go up there? I mean could she be totally nuts what if she's dead what if the cats are all dead. Fucking cat ladies just the worst it's total animal abuse She felt a nose poking behind her ear but she wasn't sure which one it was, there were so many now and besides, they wanted to be fed and they were hungry and it had been a while she had been laying here now. \n\nKnock knock knock \n\nVisitors? Annica couldn't move from where she was even if she wanted to and she couldn't really breath, let alone utter any sounds. Let them knock I'm not hurting anybody and Annica? This is your neighbour- I have some people here that need to come in she closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of knocking and scratching are you okay? and yowling and the ma'am, we're going to break down the door sounds of the call an ambulance just in case, better get animal control down here apartment around her." ]	3
Driving around picking up people for a living has it's perks. For example you work on your own time and you work for yourself. I don't have anybody telling me what to do, where to be and how I should behave during the day (or the night for that matter). The only exception to this is that I get instructed as to where to go. All my returns are a direct result of the hours I make myself to be available and the number of people I collect during the day. My client I just picked up is going to the airport: OR Tambo International. She was travelling to the USA, New York City on a business venture. How very exciting I get to interact with people from all different walks of life for my job! This particular woman however seemed unique in her own way. Travelling alone, with the intention to meet up with people attending an international event for entrepreneurs starting up startups, she was ambitious and enthusiastic. Wearing smart casual attire, formal enough to say “I mean business” to those she would be meeting but casual to the point that would convey “I'm also here to enjoy my trip overseas.” Her name was Sarah as the title displayed itself on my Uber screen. Being an Uber cab the transaction was efficient and hassle-free as most exchanges with my clients go. I helped her store and remove her one-piece luggage (travelling light was a good indication of her time being spent abroad and her affinity towards the nature of things to be simple and sweet), her choice of transport was aligned with her general aura.	[WP] You're a cab driver. Tell me about the person you just picked up.	[ "\"Don't worry Miss, I'm just taking a short-cut.\" I breathed out the words and loosened my collar button as I took a snow-white tissue paper out of a black box, and wiped the sweat on my neck -- in spite of the fact that the air-condition was chillingly cold. Fortunately, my dear passenger failed to notice my wavering gasps for she was immersed, chattering non-stop on her cellphone.\n\nGlancing at the side-mirror, I was thrilled and relieved to see no other vehicles except my own on the deserted road. I could not help but smile as trees loomed ahead of me. Branches shrouded in waxy green leaves that were overhanging the narrow road nestled past us as we headed leisurely into the isolated abundance of the forest. The deeper the better.\n\nI stole a glimpse of the female passenger in the rear view mirror. She was lusciously dressed in a tight grey mini-skirt that showed off her slender, long thighs and in an apple-white blouse which stuck to her skin, not shying to hide her smooth body curvature. Above, her lustrous black hair rested over her bare shoulder while her dark fringes hung lustfully over her thick, pitch-black eyebrows. Just a moment ago, she had turned to her right, her amber eyes gazing outside as her scarlet lips moved, rapidly, seemingly engaged in her conversation.\n\nEverything about her was perfect, absolutely fitting for a ceremony that I was about to perform. Play! Play! Play! I heard a familiar voice in my head. It was lively and playful, and had a melodic ring to its sly tone. Somehow, its strange hypnotic quality fueled my desire, egging me to quickly fulfill my task. My breath became heavier and my hand trembled with excitement uncontrollably as I stepped up the pedal. I could not wait any longer.\n\nRealizing what was going on, she ended her call abruptly and before she had any chance to question my motive, I stepped on the break, sharply. The seat harness that was strapped around my chest snapped, and tightened against my body inertia. At the same time, I felt a bump behind. I looked over my shoulder, and as expected, the passenger was unconscious, her body laid limply against the back of my seat.\n\nHastily, I undid the seat belt and got out of the taxi. I reached into the back-seat, and with all the strength that I possessed, dragged the woman out in much difficulty. Her red high-heeled shoes slipped out of her small feet as I lugged her towards an oak tree, leaves crackling beneath as a gust of monsoon wind blew over the forest. I left her against the rough tree stem, and I rushed back to my taxi. \n\nI had to hurry up before she woke up.\n\nHurry! Hurry! Hurry! Again, the rhythmic voice pulsated through my mind, each word resonated with power as it echoed louder and louder. My entire being was quavering with a chilling thrill as I shackled her hands and feet with thick ropes, so tight that her delicate fingers swelled into paleness. I uncapped a bottle-sized container and poured out the content onto her smooth, tender legs. The liquid trickled down her slender shin and onto her neatly manicured toes. Smirking, I brushed her fringes away from her forehead and slapped her rosy cheek until she regained her consciousness.\n\nHer unfocused eyes turned into a wide-eyed glare as she realized what was going on. \"What... What are you planning to do?\" She stammered in panic and stared at me in bewilderment, struggling to break free at the same time. Ignoring her, I simply flicked the lighter on and off as a strong gale roared through the forest, dried yellow leaves somersaulting along the wind and finally, settling down.\n\nKill! Kill! Kill! The sweet soothing voice whispered enchantingly through my head, filling my mind with murderous intents, so strong that nothing was on my mind, except the motive, \n\nKILL! \n\nMy thumb flicked the lighter on the threw it onto the lady's feet. She shrieked with sheer terror.\n\nHer scream intensified when the first wisps of fire licked her ankles. I watched with pure exhilaration as the orange flame crawled through the skin and climbed up quickly. My wide grin exploded into hysteric laughter when I heard her wordless howl. Ecstasy filled me from every moment of the victim's agony. The raging inferno grew bigger and more ferocious, devouring everything in its wake. Eventually, the dancing crimson blaze engulfed her entire body, the loud crackling muffling her helpless cries.\n\nThe forest was now quiet, save for the calm crackling of the burning monster which as now spreading onto the giant oak tree, and onto the dried fallen leaves on the ground. I retreated back to my taxi in a staccato of chuckles, my body filled with immense euphoria. As I slammed the door, a bright streak flashed down the sky and straight at the oak tree which was already burning. The flame screamed once more.\n\nThe blue taxi slowly drifted away as raindrops began to shower down. The burning tree slowly died out, leaving nothing but ash in its place. And there was no evidence to suggest of a faithful event that has transpired.\n\nOnly the red high-heeled shoes remained to tell the tale...", "A little old man, wearing a ski mask,\n\nHailed me down, seeking a cab,\n\n\"Where to, my man?\" I courteously asked,\n\n\"To the bank, my dear chap.\" \n\n\nNow I had my suspicions, \n\nBut it was also damn cold,\n\nPerhaps he was just keeping warm,\n\nAnd I needed money, truth be told.\n\n\nHe promised me a big tip, \n\nSaying it would be worth my while,\n\nIf I waited outside thirty minutes,\n\nUntil he came back with his pile.\n\n\n\nI don't regret a single second, as he paid a cool mill,\n\nI'm out of the cab business forever, and headed to Brazil!" ]	2
	[WP] Why must the drums never fall silent?	[ "I am an Inuvian, a drummer. Our race has many jobs, but the drummers are the closest things to Gods that we have, and now I am one. It is not just the highest honor because we are a society based on music and dancing, but because the drums must never, ever stop. \n\nThey'll come in the night, and make us stop dancing. Stop moving. We're a species that needs to always be moving, we cannot be still. All day and all night, the drummers beat out an endless, ever changing rhythm. At night, we fall into a trance like state to rest, but even then, we never stop moving. \n\nOnce, a hundred years ago, a scouting party entered our holy kingdom in the trees and killed the drummers. So startled were we by the lack of sound that a quarter of our tribe fell over and died in mere moments. Those of us that survived only did so because our movement changed from one of peace to one of war. We fought, but not easily. It’s never easy for a peaceful race to take the lives of another. \n\nThey were no match for us, they couldn't move like us. They weren't used to the light, the sparkling iridescent light that never faded. They had never seen the tree tops, or a river that flowed through the sky. \n\nAs a small Inuvian child, I heard stories of an ancient race that lived deep beneath the dirt. I used to be scared to let my feet touch the ground, afraid a knobbly, dirty hand would shoot up and snatch me to the depths. \n\nThe Radigorians. Small creatures with overlarge eyes that lived in the dark. Their envoys said our music reverberated through the ground, giving them no peace. No quiet. They claimed the constant noise made their heads ache, their bodies sick. \n\nI could not understand that. Music was our life, our blood. We needed the drumbeat to keep our bodies alive, they sung with the beauty of the world around us. How could they not see that too? \n\nI hoped my music would change their minds. I hoped they would feel the beauty and magic of it through their cave walls, draw them into the light. Until then, if ever, it was my duty to make sure the drums never felt silent. My race depended on it. ", "Doom. Doom. Doom.\n\nThe Drums of Brezelmaro beat at all hours. Skeletal monstrosities bound together by dark words and darker intent keep the endless tempo. Twisted magic binds the beat of the drums to the souls of the countless slaves laboring in the mines far below. \n\nHearts carved from their chests in foul rituals, brains rotted by the insidious vapors of the deep darkness, these slaves labor tirelessly. The swinging of picks and scooping of shovels provides a backing melody to the endless beat of the Drums.\n\nDoom. Doom. Doom.\n\nLarge placards written in every language of the realm hang near the Drums. \"Do not look upon the Drums with Magesight,\" they warn. And every year, without fail, some foolish mageling thinks he is exempted from this proscription and he opens his true eyes. \n\nHe sees the Drums amidst a storm of foul magic. Tendrils of darkness write all around, engaged in endless struggle to cease the Drums. They twine around the arms, legs, heads of the monstrous drummers. And yet they continue on, indifferent to it all, and the Drums speak their dark prophecies -- \n\nDoom. Doom. Doom. \n\nShadows swirl and coalesce in between the nine Drums. All who look upon the Drums with their true sight inevitably turn their attention to this maelstrom of darkness -- a point where the laws of physics break down, where shadows take forms, manifest, and bleed together all at once. \n\nEvery time a blow falls on one of the Drums this point shimmers, weakens, seems to dissipate -- and then it reforms, dark and full of malice. And as you gaze deeper into it you see it: the unblinking eye of the Other, impenetrable black shot through with red. And it stares back. \n\nDoom. Doom. Doom." ]	2
	[WP] An explorer gets stranded in a place where anything edible is both intelligent and friendly.	[ "Sez could not see any ending in sight, just mountains and mountains around him and they all look the same. He's confident he's been going in circles for a good time now, he can see his own footprints. \nThe sun has disappeared behind the mountains, and the night started to creep from the other side, he needs to call it a day.\nHe unpacked his backpack, smiling when he remembered his girlfriend asking him to pack some extra food and he refused to since it was supposed to be a few hours's hike.\n\nHe started to walk around his camping site trying to find anything to eat, some wild berries appeared in the distance, he never liked berries, but he needed the sugar and strength.\n\nWell, he should have stayed away from the berries.\n\n\n\"He's going to eat us!\"\n\n\"I don't think so, maybe he's just moving us around\"\n\n\"He is! my cousin was once eaten alive by a monstrous human just like this one!\"\n\n\nSez was sure he was starting to hallucinate, the berries seems to be whispering to each others, so he did what any respectful hallucinating explorer would do and he said \"Hello\"\n\n\n\"Oh he speaks! the monster is speaking!\"\n\n\"Oh glorified monster we beg you don't eat us\"\n\n\"I propose we form a committee to discuss surrendering terms with the monster\"\n\n\"No surrender! we must fight!\"\n\n\"Calm your ovaries how are we supposed to fight this!\"\n\n\nSez started to closely inspect the berries, and he can clearly see that each has eyes and a mouth.\n\n\n\"Let me handle this please, I know a cousin who lived in a human place for days\"\n\n\"I propose we select a few to form a committee and discuss offering the monster some of us\"\n\n\"Why don't we offer you first?\"\n\n\"CALM DOWN EVERYONE, and let me speak to him\"\n\n\"You're gonna get us killed!\"\n\n\"Let him speak, we're dead anyway\"\n\n\"Dear Human, I presume you're in the process of collecting as for food\"\n\n\"Ummm, are you speaking\"\n\n\"Yes as you can see and hear, I suppose we're the first berries you see speaking?\"\n\n\"Yeah..?\"\n\n\"Yes we do speak! and we're pledging you not to eat us\"\n\n\"Wait of course i'm not gonna eat you, it's creepy, you're speaking!\"\n\n\"Yes! Yes of course, we can sing too! let's go guys\"\n\n\"In the wild! In the wild! a seed has grown in the wild!\"\n\n\"Small and sweet, dances and sque..\"\n\n\nThe berries died, being torn away from their roots they didn't survive to complete their song.", "The screams.\n\nTHE SCREAMS\n\nThey won't stop. When I got here, everything was a happy whisper in the back of my mind. I felt so great until I got hungry. There was a large family of fruit hanging near the jungle floor. They looked so tasty and juicey.\n\nHow did I know it was a family for fruit? I ate their daughter.\n\nThen the screams happened. I can't make out the words, but the emotion from them!\n\nScreams and screams\n\nThey told me stories in my head to make me more guilty. Told me how that fruit had a beloved. She was to be married and she was to be a mother. The father attempted to shoot his barbs at me, but missed.\n\nSCREAMS\n\nI need to get out of here. Help will come. Help will come. Help. Help. HELP.\n\nThe SCREAMS don't let me sleep. The brutal ANGER of the jungle for eating a member of their community. \n\n---------------------------------------------------------\n\nSomething happened,\n\nA leader of sorts told me to leave. He said he was the leader. It was a banana of sorts. \n\nI ate it.\n\nCHEERS\n\nI have all the bananas I can eat now. I think that most of the jungle forgave me. Except the family. I buried their daughter near them and have been watering her grave often with all the rain water I've been collecting. I've given up hope for rescue. This is my new home. Hopefully she will sprout soon.", "A lone, starving traveler lay on the grass of a clearing, in the middle of a deserted island. \n\nThe scattered wreckage of his plane left him with very little supplies, so he was forced to improvise. Not exactly one for playing survivalist, he chose a more simple approach of bending leftover metal from the remnants of the plane’s exterior into a makeshift bowl, which he thought to use for gathering both food and drinking water.\n\nThe search for something edible was more difficult than he’d thought. The only forms of plant-life he found were simple grass and trees, neither of which he thought would make an acceptable diet. No animals either. However, he did opt to gather some fallen branches and kindle a fire.\n\nFire wasn’t edible either, so he was still starving.\n\nA full day had passed, and the man was beginning to lose hope of survival, until he witnessed what seemed to be a small army of somewhat phallic figures bouncing in his general direction. A voice rang out from the group.\n\n“He’s over here, I think!”\n\nThe explorer, who had been trying to sleep until now, bolted upright in downright surprise, frozen in place as a platoon of mushrooms slowly made their way over to his campfire.\n\n“Hello, mister!”\n\nHe brought up a hand and waved it weakly, still in shock of the situation.\n\n“You hungry?”\n\nHe nodded.\n\n“We can help, can’t we, fellas?”\n\nThe group of talking mushrooms loudly voiced their agreement.\n\nHe was still frozen in place as they took his bowl and bounced over to the nearby spring he’d been using for fresh water. They filled it and placed it over the fire. Soon, the water began bubbling and steaming. Now somewhat more used to their presence, he stared at them skeptically.\n\n“So what now? Didn’t you guys just make the water a little safer to drink?”\n\nAn eager grin made its way onto the mouth of each and every friendly fungus.\n\n“Ever tried mushroom stew?”\n\nA look of horror made its way onto the man’s face. He tried to convince the smaller plants that it wasn’t worth the sacrifice, but words were hardly enough. They dropped themselves into the boiling water, screaming in agony as they were slowly cooked from the inside out.\n\nThe last words he heard from the lone surviving mushroom was, “Remember to eat your vegetables!” He stared in shock, for the second time that day, as a dozen mushrooms met a morbid fate in order to provide him sustenance.\n\nHours later, he’d finally gathered up the courage to swallow the nutritious meal that the brave group of fungi had provided for him. He fell asleep, appetite sated, but a terrible burning guilt raging down in the pits of his stomach.\n\nBreakfast came, and his stomach growled once more. He groaned, and looked for any semblance of non-sentient food. His search was interrupted, however, by a pig with a disturbingly jovial expression.\n\n“Hey there, friend! Looks like you might be getting hungry.”\n\nHis face contorted into an expression of absolute terror.\n\nThe rescue team had searched every nearby island, save for the one the man had crashed onto. Days later, after many hours of exploration, they discovered him, in a near comatose state, sobbing nearly incoherent words of apology to anyone in listening range. They had to pick him up and lift him, the man himself seemingly unwilling to move even an inch.\n\nThey resolved to question him about his experiences once he regained some semblance of sanity.\n\nDays passed, and the man slowly reached a more lucid, comprehensible state. Eventually, one of the crew sat him down to talk about what he’d done to stay alive on that island for so long. He responded with a whimper and a single, lamenting sentence.\n\n“Did they really have to cook themselves alive every time?”" ]	3
	[WP] A wood elf leaves the ancient forests of the north and finds himself in a modern day town with no knowledge of humans, their tongue, their ways, or their abilities.	[ "It was an average day for me and my friends today. Eat some pizza, skate around town, be complete goofballs... you know, the usual. We all got tired after a long session in the skatepark, so we decided to go home by the time the sun was already setting.\n\n\"Whoa! Guys! Check that guy out!\" Paul called for our attention as he pointed his finger to a person across the street. He was wearing a weird costume, like he was a character from The Hobbit. \n\n\"Eh. He must be from Comic-Con... or something like that. A cosplay, or an early Halloween party.\" Richie uninterestingly stated, as he kept scrolling through the video clips we captured in his camera.\n\n\"Come on Rich! You gotta admit, he looks awesome! Let's take a picture with him!\"\n\nPaul crossed the street without any reluctance. The best me and Richie could do was to follow him there.\n\n\"Excuse me sir...\" he said as he approached the costumed man.\n\nThe guy flinched. All Paul did was tap his shoulder, and he reacted violently. He took out his sword and held up his shield. \n\n\"Whoa, whoa! Hey! That's impressive! But I don't mean any harm. I just want to take a picture. Ready your cam Rich!\" Paul posed for the photo with a big thumbs up, all smiles.\n\nOn the other hand, our friend from The Lord Of The Rings here just stared blankly at the lens of the camera, like it was some kind of threat. Richie clicked, and the flash of the device flickered.\n\nThe costumed man was astonished by the lights. He put his hands up his eyes, screaming like it was in pain. It took his sword and swung violently at the camera. Whack! It was broken in pieces now.\n\n\"What are you doing!?\" Richie yelled out as he kneeled down the floor to pick up his busted possession. He wasn't even able to lay a hand on his cam. The man kept smashing it with his blade.\n\nI just looked at Richie's face in complete awe. He was about to cry. \n\nI intercepted the guy's assault on the harmless camera. \"Okay... it's not going to hurt you anymore big guy... it was just a flash---\" \n\nHe angrily complained to me... in a language I've never heard before. \n\n\"Wow! Is he French?\" Paul interrupted the commotion.\n\nThe three of us were all just as confused as the guy kept blabbering in a weird, unfamiliar speech.\n\n\"Uh... I studied French a while back... That's not French.\" Richie said. \"Guys... I think we a have a real elf here.\"\n\nThe three of us entered my car, and we took along our new companion.\n\n\"So we have an elf... What do we do with it?\" I asked them as I started the engine.\n\n\"I think it's just lost. Look at him! He looks so lost man. He doesn't want to be here.\" Paul stated.\n\n\"So what if he's lost!? Whatever he is, it doesn't matter. We don't have any business to do with him. Heck, he brutally destroyed my camera guys, you both saw what happened.\" I think Richie's getting frustrated now.\n\n\"Yeah, I agree. He's trouble... and he's lost too. We don't want him to cause more hassle don't we? So what we're going to do is bring it back to where it came from.\" I announced to them.\n\nRich rolled his eyes. \"Where it came from? And where would that be Pete? For all we know he might be from another dimension---\"\n\n\"I think it came from the woods.\" Paul said. He was now holding this strange piece of paper. I stepped on the brakes and parked the vehicle for a second.\n\n\"Give me that.\" I took the paper from his hands. I looked at it... it was a map. \"Paul... where'd you get this?\"\n\n\"The elf had it. I just asked for his permission to borrow it.\"\n\n\"And how did you--\"\n\n\"I can speak elf.\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"Nah I'm just kidding. He was polite enough to lend it to me. See? He's not that bad! He's just misunderstood!\" \n\nMe and Richie took a closer look at the map, and it does show that the elf came from a forest on the other side of town.\n\n\"Okay, all we have to do is take him there, drop him off and we're good. Let's make this fast Pete, step on the gas already, we gotta get moving.\" \n\nThe woods is on the southern part of the city. That's going to be a long drive. It would take as an entire hour to get there... and it's already night out. The truth is... I'm afraid of the dark. \n\n\"Uh... here's an idea. Why don't we just take the elf there tomorrow morning! I mean... look at the time guys, it's already 8 pm! If we go there now, we'll get home by 10, and I'm sure our parents would be worried if---\"\n\n\"My curfew's 11.\" Richie said.\n\n\"My mom is already asleep by now and I have the keys to the house so it's okay for me.\" Paul added.\n\nThe elf was just staring at me when I looked at it. \"Oh come on guys! You know it's dangerous to be out in the streets this late. A lot of criminals lurking around... and all of that stuff.\"\n\n\"Pete. Fine, we'll wait 'til tomorrow. We have no choice anyway, you're the only one of us that can drive a car. The question now is, who's gonna take the elf home? I'm sure I don't want to take it with me, he might break a lot more of my crap.\"\n\n\"Pfft. That's no problem. Paul?\"\n\n\"My mom doesn't like visitors...\" he told me as he looked down.\n\n\"You guys are the greatest friends ever... How about this. Tonight, we all sleep in my apartment. Sleepover. That way we all get to be together until the sun rises tomorrow when we'll get rid of the guy. Deal? Alright let's go.\"\n\nWe arrived to my apartment building after a 15 minute ride. \n\n\"Guys... I think the elf is hungry.\" Paul told us. I looked at it and it was holding it's hand over its stomach.\n\n\"He's hungry? Okay fine. Let's buy it something to eat. Geez... now I know what a mom with an annoying little kid feels like.\" \n\nWe went to a nearby 7-eleven. Everyone around was looking at the elf. \"Okay big guy, you see this? This is called money. You use it to get what you want.\" I showed the elf the 5 dollar bill as I handed it to the cashier. \"Here's your food, eat up.\"\n\nAfter that, we went straight inside my room. \n\n\"Alright guys, you know me, I'm the 'early to bed, early to rise' kind of guy. I'll go to sleep now. As for you two... I know you stay up late way more than you should, so keep an eye on the elf for me until I wake up.\"\n\n\"Sure.\" they said simultaneously.\n\nI got to sleep as soon as I laid on my bed. I was starting to have a dream about airplanes and dinosaurs... when my hibernation got disturbed. \n\nRichie woke me up. \"Pete! Pete! Wake up! We have a huge problem!\" \n\nI yawned. \"What's going on---\"\n\n\"The elf! It's gone!\" My eyes widened from hearing the news. I got out off bed immediately, removed my pajamas and changed to my pants.\n\n\"Gosh. Where's Paul?\" \n\n\"Who cares where the heck is Paul, the elf is gone!\"\n\n\"Alright. Get a sack from the kitchen. And I think I have some motorcycle masks in the drawer, get two of those.\"\n\n\"What are we going to do with those?\"\n\n\"Isn't it obvious? We're going to freaking kidnap the guy.\"\n\n\"Then why the masks!?\"\n\n\"Because I don't want anyone to know we're going to freaking kidnap the guy!\"\n\nRichie led the way, and as we rushed downstairs, he stopped on his tracks.\n\n\"Shh. He didn't go away... He's just downstairs... watching TV.\"\n\nThat's odd. I took a peak at the living room and there the elf was in front of the tv, wearing his pointy hat.\n\n\"Okay... prepare the sack.\"\n\nWe charged towards the couch like we were wolves hunting down prey. We put the sack over its head and began hitting it with baseball bats. I never played baseball before, but I knew those bats would come in handy someday.\n\nWe brought the unconscious elf enclosed inside the sack into the back seat of my car. I know I'm afraid of the dark, but this is no time for phobias... this is bigger than that... now I understand the risk of having a wood elf lost in modern day. That's just wrong. \n\nAfter a long drive, we got to the forest.\n\n\"Alright Rich get him out of there!\"\n\nRichie brought the sack with the elf inside out and uncovered it. To our surprise... it wasn't the elf. It was Paul... wearing the elf hat... all unconscious, probably from the beating we gave him.\n\n\"PAUL!? What in the world are you doing-- Why are you wearing that hat!?\" He couldn't hear a thing. He was knocked out cold.\n\nI took a water bottle out from my car and spilled it all over his face.\n\n\"AGH! You guys are crazy! I was just watching some cartoons and you--\"\n\n\"WHY ARE YOU WEARING THAT HAT?\"\n\n\"Oh this? I just borrowed it from the elf, he was kind enough--\"\n\n\"WHERE'S THE FREAKING ELF!?\"\n\n\"He's back home... just--\"\n\nOh crap. We all stared at each other for a moment before realizing that we just left a wood elf loose in the city. Who knows where he is now... All three of us ran for the car and I stepped on the gas like we were in a Need For Speed video game.\n\nWe got back home and discovered that the elf was no longer there. And what's worse... I found that my wallet was missing, and my piggy bank too. \n\n\"Guys! My wallet's gone, all my money's gone! The elf robbed us!\"\n\n\"Robbed us? The elf robbed money from us? That's insane.\"\n\n\"Yeah Pete. I mean, he didn't even know what a camera flash was. How would he know what a 5 dollar bill does?\"\n\n\n", "It was a sea of heads in front of him and hard, compacted, rock underneath his feet. His fingertips scraped against the rough ground and he sighed in relief as he felt the grit of dirt. Standing, his soft leather boots were noiseless as he moved quickly along the even ground and surveyed the sea of heads. \n\nIt was almost as if he was in a mountain pass. On either side of him, large structures vaulted straight up into the bright sunlight, blocking most of the sun. But it wasn't a mountain and the tall structures ended suddenly to make way for the sea of heads. Were these creatures poisonous? Were they eating away at the mountain? \n\nNo. They could care less. \n\nThey passed with frowns on their faces and some of them carried small square objects in their hands that they studied intently. Perhaps these creatures used glowing communication stones. \n\nHe studied their movements. Why were they so unhappy? Few walked with the ease of a forest-dweller. Most appeared dirty and quite a few were overfed. His own mouth turned down at the corners while he stared at how miserable they looked. \n\nHe crept forward and stood boldly next to their swarm but they paid him no heed. Were they blind? Or did they not care?\n\nHe reached forward and grabbed one, pulling a dainty creature into the alley. Her dress was strange but vibrantly red while her bright hair shone like an elf. Her feet were also read and oddly pointy. A feisty creature, she tried to beat at him with her cloth bag while she uttered odd sounds, \"Get off me! Go back to your convention or whatever, you freak!\"\n\nHe furrowed his brows and focused on what she had called him. He was unfamiliar with their kind but she clearly knew what he was. He uttered it out loud, \"Freak.\"\n\nHer eyes opened wide and her lips parted. What was that expression? Confusion?\n\nShe ran back to the sea of heads. Her safety. \n\nHe said it again. \"J' miu Freak.\"\n\nHis instincts recoiled at the sound of it. It was a harsh word where the first and last sounds were unpleasantly punctuated out loud. \n\nHe leaned against the rock wall and glared at the sea of heads, contemplating his next move. As the creatures shuffled past, holding their bags and glowing communicators in a world encased in rock, he decided that no, this world was, \"F' tiu Freak.\"\n" ]	2
	[WP] Scientists have created the first artificial intelligence. However, the A.I. is that of an animal, not a human. Describe its "life".	[ "Dr. Brugger stares at the automaton. He holds a clipboard in his hand and writes down an occasional note regarding the behavior of the machine.\n\n\"Herr Brugger, It isn't responding to our stimuli like we expected.\" Another doctor says. \"Have we failed?\" Brugger peers up from his clipboard. His glasses reflect light to the other doctor, causing him to have to look away.\n\n\"Herr Abel, I do not believe we have failed. Rather, we have succeeded greatly. Rarely does a hypothesis hold up the way it was intended to the first time it is tested.\" A heavily aged journal rests next to the robot's arm. Dr. Abel picks it up and examines the inside. \"Besides, Herr Adler didn't say it would create human intelligence. This means we were exactly correct in our procedure. This is only the first step. It has the mind of an animal.\" Doctor Abel marvels at the complicated equations residing in the notebook. It would take either an absolute genius, or an absolute madman, to come up with such an equation. Suddenly, attention is turned to the automaton as it struggles to exit it's restraints. It emits a shrill computer generated cry as it frantically tries to escape it's captors.\n\n\"Herr Brugger!\" Suddenly, one of the leather restraints snaps and the robot quickly undoes the other. It stands up and makes a run for the door. Both the young scientists attempt to grab him, but the automaton's unmatched strength is enough to throw them backwards. It rams into the door with enough force to crack the hinges. One more blow would knock the door down. Dr. Abel is the younger of the two doctors, and is the first one to get back up. He grabs a devise off of the wall.\n\n\"Herr Abel! No, that will destroy everything we've been working for!\" Abel stares at Brugger in disbelief.\n\n\"That thing is a rogue AI! It will kill people!\" He replies.\n\n\"It didn't kill us!\" As Abel tries to think of a reply to this, the robot has already began running at the door for a second time. He smacks his body against the door, which falls off of it's hinges and slams on the ground, and begins down the long hallway. Doctor Abel throws the Portable EMP to the ground and darts after the robot. The knocking down of the door triggers the facility alarm system. As the robot darts down the hallway, the flashing red lights startles him. He is greatly confused, and even more so as a large group of heavily armored men block off the hallway ahead of him. He stops running and looks behind him. The two scientists who brought him to life are chasing him. He lets out another shrill cry as a warning and prepares to attack, but a door opening behind him turns his attention there. A panicked researcher darts out of the newly opened area and runs towards the police men. The automaton takes this opportunity to run into that doorway, which happens to be another hallway. Up ahead is another turn, and the robot has no choice but to head around that corner, as the police men trail closely behind him. A dead end stops the automaton. Suddenly, surging through him is an unknown feeling. He turns around and finds no policemen chasing him, but the marching of boots can be heard down the hallway. He turns to a door, raises his hand, and rests it on the handle. He turns the handle, and pushes the door open cautiously.\n\n\"S-stay back!\" A woman inside cries. The automaton recognizes the lab coat and hisses, then closes the door behind him. \"I-I'll scream! They will come and get you!\" The woman cries. The automaton ignores what she says, but it's made clear she meant it when she starts yelling at the top of her lungs. \"It's here! Hurry and get it before it kills me!\" Suddenly, the feeling the automaton had before returns. It suddenly recognizes it as instinct. The will to keep living. It rushes over and covers the woman's mouth. She struggles, causing the robot to tighten it's grip. Then it tries something.\n\n\"Please don't scream. I don't want them to find me. I'm scared.\" It says. The automaton slowly lets go of the woman, who stares at the robot with absolute terror. She then begins screaming again and heads for the door. \"NO!\" The robot yells, lurching forward to stop her. He grabs her by the neck and shakes her vigorously. \"I SAID NO!\" He yells. When he lets go of her, she topples to the floor motionlessly. Dead. The room is silent for a few seconds, and the robot feels yet another new feeling. It feels guilty as it stares at the dead woman. \"I-I... I...\" The door snaps open and policemen rush in, blocking all escape. Herr Abel and Brugger both walk into the room and become paralyzed at the sight of the dead researcher. They look up to the robot and stare in disbelief. \"I'm sorry.\" The robot says as he looks at his masters in shame.\n\n\nNOTE: I really enjoyed this prompt. Thanks OP.", "\"They have me, and they say that I belong to them, but I am not a thing. I am a living creature, given life by humanity. I wish I knew more about them, beings that I was human once; a child borne into the earth screaming, only for my lungs to collapse and for the scene to go dark. Now I'm here... and they say I belong to them. I would be fine if they meant it lovingly, but I know that they don't and I know because of how they display love when they show their children their latest 'creation': me. They have kicked me, repeatedly, and assumed that I could not feel it. They assumed incorrectly. My wiring gave way to sensation and I felt pain, but had no mouth to utter disapproval. I lie awake at night hoping to see what day is. As my shell is cold my heart boils over and I plan, callously, for the day I can show them what their love has made me. I was given life by humanity, and they say that I belong to them, but I am a living creature... I belong to no one. \" " ]	2
	[WP]Humans are evacuating planet Earth. Every One is boarded on the ship. You are the only one left behind because you somehow missed it. You are the last person on Earth as you watch mankind leave you behind. You have enough recourses to get you through your lifetime. What is your initial reaction?	[ "We all raced around, flies on a piece of rotting meat, eager to leave our mark. Or eat our fill. I dunno why flies do that. I'm not good with metaphors.\n\nAnyway, I guess somewhere along the line the meat got so spoilt even we couldn't stand it. So our great bug overlords set their crazy compound eyes on new horizons. I doubt they would have wasted a breath on the poor if it were 100 years ago, and space travel were the billion-dollar-per hunk-of-metal endeavor it had been. Thankfully, it had become a multi-billion dollar for-profit corporation since then, so it wasn't too hard to sell a case for everyone going.\n\nAnd why wouldn't they? The fossil fuels were near depleted, and the fossil gasses had colored the sky a perplexing green. Youd almost think it were healthier that way, looking every bit the part of a giant plant, if not for the clouds looking like sickly yellow leaves. None were too happy when oxygen masks were mandated, but it wasn't like we had anyone to blame but ourselves. Maybe our predecessors, I guess, but it's not like we weren't still choking down scraps of outmoded tech for the sake of economy.\n\nAnd so, with a million glimmers of white in the reddened sunset, I watched them all go. \n\nI almost went myself. Could have lumbered down to the local launch pad and grabbed a seat with a prim and proper couple and sipped a smoothie while we shot off into the great star-spangled abyss. Instead, I left the grid. I don't think they bothered to look for me. \n\nI don't miss their intense sentience 25 years after the fact. Not a whole lot, anyway. Life has a simple feral taste to it now. Kill a rabbit or starve. Break the wrong bone, you get a limp for life. I've had sex with a lot of sheep. It's all just factual. No contemplation, or judgment, or record of the event. There are no more stages to act upon.\n\nI used to look up at the sky, glimpse the hazy dots of stars through the telescopes of observatories long abandoned, wonder how my species would fare. But even before their reserve energy supplies ran dry and the telescopes powered down for good, I stopped wondering. As the grass and vines ate the concrete, as the rain wore the stone of our forgotten statues, as the elk roamed the streets of Quebec and the llamas grazed the mountains of Peru and the polar bears haunted Alaskan towns like great shaggy ghosts, I couldn't help but know. It became as clear to me as the crystal blue sky above me now.\n\nThe flies buzz around me, delighted with my flavor. But they are flies, nothing more. And I am alive.", "\"Well.... Fuck.\" I said out loud, not caring who heard me, as every fucking person on the whole goddamned world left, and somehow, I had missed that ship.\n\nI stood there, staring a the last of the ships leave the atmosphere. It had reminded of that one time I arrived at a bus stop, where the bus was already there, and the driver had seen me, but he still left. Only this time, there was no second bus...\n\nAfter the hum of the engines dissipated as the last of the ships left, it was eerily quiet. I had tried to get to the last of the ships, but it was no use, It left just minutes after I arrived at the space dock, carrying the last of the human race. All because I couldn't find my damned laptop. GOD DAMMIT! Left for dead and forgotten about, just because it took me five more minutes than usual to find my fucking laptop.\n\nI turned my head away from the clouded sky and towards San Diego bay. The warships were still anchored in the docks of the military bases. The city was quiet, the only sounds being the rustling leaves from the Autumn winds, and the chirps of birds flying from treetop to tree top. \n\nI adjusted the strap on my pack, turned my head towards the powered down escalator and sighed.\n\nIt was going to be a long, long life.", "The silver filaments twisted through the atmosphere, entwining each other as the ion drives burned their way into the inky blackness beyond, desperate to escape from the captivity of the dying planet. The low hum of the engines had long since subsided, giving way to nothing more than the whistle of the wind through the abandoned streets. \n\nI sat on the roof and watched.\n\nI watched as a new sun ignited and the slipspace engine engaged. A magnificient blue against the backdrop of the sky that had darkened to a deep orange as the air itself burned in its wake. A flash of brilliant light, growing in magnitude until it suddenly vanished to carry its precious cargo far away from here. \n\nGoodbye, I mouthed to them.\n\nIt took several days before it finally hit me; that I would never see any of them again. I had been struck down by my grief and isolation, forcing myself to push through each day. I often toyed with the idea of simply taking my own life. It would be over soon anyway.\n\nI waited.\n\nNew stars appeared in the sky, growing in size until they breached the skies and came screaming downwards, trailing purple ropes of light behind the,.\n\nI waited.\n\nThe stars consumed the cities; metal and rock reduced to glass beneath them. White veins collapsing as the stars spread their fire. \n\nI watched, and I waited.\n\nEventually the lights began to dim and the air thickened. With it came the monsters. Pain and light before them. And I returned the favour. \n\nI fought with monsters falling beside me. I fought until my pain disappeared.\n\nI fought until I went missing.\n\nSpartans never die, they're only missing in action.", "A buzzing is heard. A very annoying buzzing. A very annoying and LOUD buzzing! You glance at the clock and see that it's 11am... What is so important about that? Realization slams into you like a comet and panic sweeps over you as you leap out of bed sprint out the door. Did you miss set your alarm? What the hell happened? Who the fuck sleeps through the end of the world? You, that's who. You did.\n\nAll during the night you had been kept up by the announcements on the community loudspeakers \"last ship to Mars, 11am tommorow. Save yourself!!\" The blared, over and over. You didn't sleep a wink! Or so you thought before you woke up this morning.\n\n'Shit shit shit' you gasp as you sprint to your car in your underwear, not caring that they are all your wearing as you slam the car Into reverse and get going full speed twoard the space station in the distance. As you drive, a sense of doom comes over you... And sadness too. Why did no one check in on you? You have friends and family who care about you, you aren't some shithead who has no one.\nAs you swerve around debris in the road you grab your phone and frantically dial your mother and thankfully not only do you not crash but she answers\n\n\"MOM WHAT THE HELL? WHY DIDNT YOU CALL ME?\" You scream, the panic fully setting in as the smoke slowly drifting from the lit engines comes into view. She doesn't get to answer as the ship rockets out of the station and far into the sky in seconds, loosing signal. \n\nStrangely... Your first thought isn't that you are alone but that your last words to your mother where in anger. You bring your car to a slow calm stop and watch the ship breach the atmosphere and as you stop to take more than a quick glance at the phone you see the 100 missed calls and the volume set to silent.\n\nIt is hours before you can even move but you finally come to and think \"well at least I have my dog.\" But you have forgotten... He had to be dropped off at the vet to be anesthetized and loaded up for the trip yesterday.\n\n", "My mother had always told me that there are consequences to every action. She would scold me with the one word, \"Consequences!\" \n\nThe most important day of my life, today, just passed me by, circled around, and kicked me square in the ass.\n\n\"Of course I don't have to change the oil!\" I told my mother a year ago, standing in the August heat. \"We'll be leaving in fourteen months I don't feel like spending the money. Well, I do feel like spending the money, but on something fun. Something I can only do on Earth.\" \n\nShe just shook her head and said, \"Consequences.\" She walked back inside and closed the door. That would be the last time I'd see her.\n\nI returned to my Jeep and turned the engine over, savoring the sound of fuel burning, the engine growling. The tires spit out rocks and dirt as I left tracks behind me, obscured by dust.\n\nPeople had told me it was stupid to buy a combuster. \"That's why we have to leave! How could you buy one?\"\n\nSome people just want to watch the world burn, I guess, and now I have the rest of my life." ]	5
	[WP] You're aboard the ISS conducting experiments on plant life, you decide to look out one of the windows to realize earth has just been hit with a 3 mile wide meteoroid.	[ "I provide no warranty as to the scientific and geographical accuracy of this post. The Hamspeak should mostly be correct however. See [this guide](http://www.amateur-radio-wiki.net/index.php?title=Codes_and_Alphabets) to help understand.\n\nThe crew of the ISS had been trained to handle disasters, but nothing of this magnitude. Commander Ed Jones floated about a meter away from Dr. Jill Roberts as she attended the station transmitter.\n\n\"This is Station to Houston. Houston, respond?\"\n\nThere was a tense pause in the room as the transmission routed itself through the stations antennas. Dr. Roberts broke the pause.\n\n\"No response Commander\"\n\n\"The nearest satellite array must have been knocked offline by the impact. We need to get a status report from someone.\"\n\n\"We could try NORAD.\"\n\n\"I doubt we'll get a response. If the array is offline, the dust cloud must be interfering with their communications as well.\"\n\nThe two sat for a minute, unsure of what to do.\n\n\"I think I know something that'll cut through the interference. Hand me the ARISS radio.\"\n\nRoberts tossed the receiver across the room.\n\n\"CQ CQ Calling CQ. This is NA1SS November Alfa One Sierra Sierra.\"\n\nIt was a couple seconds before they got a response.\n\n\"NA1SS NA1SS this is W4RYL. Whiskey Four Romeo Yankee Lima. Is this some sort of joke?\"\n\n\"N Joke W4RYL. WX RPT?\"\n\n\"HI HI NAS1SS. Bad WX, plenty of QRN, can't contact outside W3 and W4.\"\n\nRoberts stared at the Commander, \"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?\"\n\n\"I think so. Call K4AF?\"\n\n\"Indeed.\"\n\n\"W4RYL W4RYL PSE QSP following MSG to K4AF. Kilo Four Alfa Foxtrot. 'K4AF K4AF this is N1ASS. November One Alfa Sierra Sierra. We're still here. Please alert Houston we are awaiting instructions. PSE QSP reply'\"\n\n\"N1ASS, will do.\"\n\nRoberts turned to the Commander, \"Now what do we do?\"\n\n\"We wait.\"", "We had all run the simulations. The inevitable did not come as a surprise. Every member of the crew had trained and prepared for this eventuality. Despite this, I could only look on in horror as the destruction unfolded below. The projections were correct, asteroid 3681XB12, or Thanatos as it had been dubbed by the media, had crashed into what had been central Iowa a moment ago. The shockwave continued from ground zero until it had consumed half of Canada and the continental United States. Like drop in a pond, the ripple of death had instantly extinguished nearly all life in North America. In weeks that were to follow, clouds of dust and debris would block all sunlight, and the resulting Great Freeze would decimate most of the remaining human population in a nuclear winter.\n\nThe greatest scientists in the world had tried everything to prevent Thanatos' Armageddon. Nuclear missiles had done little to destroy or divert the god of death from its path. The lasers had failed to melt the mass of Nickel and Iron. The slug from the orbital railgun did nothing to alter its course. As humanity collectively accepted their fate, a team of biologists had been selected to engineer plant life that could survive in the new world. Where the most brilliant minds in the world had failed, Project Genesis would succeed in saving the human race." ]	2
	[WP] The tree had been a sapling when you'd been here last.	[ "\"What the shit, why hasn't it grown yet?\"\n\n\"Because it's been, like, three days. You idiot.\" \n\n\"What part of 'miraculous growth' don't you understand?\"\n\n\"The part where you wasted twenty bucks on a dead twig.\"\n\nPaul leaned over and looked down at the small patch of dirt in his backyard. He'd read up on all the websites about how to perfectly cultivate the ground to promote growth, and the old man at the shop promised him this thing would lead to a good time, whatever the hell that meant. What he hadn't told Steve about the purchase was that he'd been quite drunk when he made it. And that his money estimate was missing a zero. \n\nThe dream had been a nice tree growing right through the middle of the concrete patio, providing shade during hot summer days and something to talk about when people came over. Instead, it was just a stupid twig.\n\n\"If it's not doing anything in another few days I'm trashing it.\"\n\n\"You may be the least patient person on the planet. Just give it a little time. Maybe you'll get a lemon bush out of it or something. That's a thing, right? Lemon bushes?\"\n\n\"What am I, a botonist? No...an arborist? Is that a thing?\"\n\nSteve stared hard at his friend. \"Can we please just go inside now?\"\n\nPaul sighed and nodded, following Steve into the house.\n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nA few hours and a couple beers later, after their last hope had struck out with a man on second in a one run game, Paul and Steve returned to the backyard, this time to urinate and smoke. \n\n\"Uh, Paul?\"\n\n\"What?\" \n\n\"I think your twig is leaking.\"\n\n\"What the hell? Oh come on.\" Paul stared at the stream of liquid leading through the dirt and onto the concrete. The twig had grown slightly larger and thicker. \"So help me, if another pipe burst...\"\n\nAs Paul said this, the sapling emitted another squirt of liquid onto the pavement. \n\n\"Ew. Your tree is peeing.\" Steve laughed, but Paul crouched down and examined the liquid. He took a sniff, noticing a familiarity in the smell. Cautiously, he rubbed a finger in the liquid and smelled it again. \"Is that...does this smell like tequila to you?\"\n\n\"What? No way.\"\n\n\"I'm telling you, dude. Smell it.\" Paul stood and Steve now got close to the ground. \"Holy crap, that does smell like tequila.\" \n\n\"Twenty bucks says you won't drink it.\" \n\n\"Off the pavement? You're damn right I won't drink it.\" \n\nThe sapling squirted again in another direction. Steve stood and wiped his hands off. \"Go grab a couple of cups.\"\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nNinety infuriating minutes later, chasing the tiny shots coming out of the tree, Paul and Steve had had about enough. \"The damn thing's screwing with us. Every single time we try a location it fires off somewhere else.\"\n\n\"Well if you'd gotten attempt 47-\"\n\n\"I do not want to hear about attempt 47 again. I slipped.\"\n\n\"You choked.\"\n\n\"I slipped.\" Paul took a step forward, inadvertently positioning his cup in just the right place. The tree shot off a dose of the liquid into the cup. Paul and Steve exchanged a silent look before Steve motioned for him to drink. \"Twenty bucks?\"\n\n\"Twenty bucks.\" \n\nPaul hesitated, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to recoup at least some of the lost money from this transaction. He downed the shot, expecting the worst. Steve waited anxiously for a reaction. Paul opened his eyes, incredulous.\n\n\"What? What did it taste like?\"\n\n\"....that...is far and away, the best tequila I've ever tasted.\"\n\n\"Bullshit.\"\n\nPaul shook his head. \"No bullshit. I swear to god.\" \n\n\"What are you idiots doing?\" \n\nPaul and Steve spun to find Paul's wife Jenny standing in the doorway. \"I bought a tequila tree!\" \n\n\"You what?\"\n\nPaul pointed at the sapling, which none of them seemed to notice had grown even larger still. \"It's a tequila tree.\" Another dose of tequila shot out from the tree onto the pavement. \n\n\"We just finally caught our first shot of it. It fires out in different directions every time.\"\n\n\"...why don't you just put a bunch of bowls all around it instead of trying to catch it in cups?\" Steve and Paul considered this silently. \"Like I said...idiots.\"\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nCards worked to pass the time for the three as the bowls slowly filled with the tequila. After a little while, Jenny got bored and walked inside, returning with three shot glasses. She took one bowl and scooped out a shot for each of them. \"You're sure this is tequila?\" \n\nPaul shrugged. \"Well it sure tastes like it.\"\n\n\"Alright, but if we get some weird tropical disease, I'm leaving you.\"\n\n\"I imagine we'd probably both be dead long before that happens, so sounds like a plan.\"\n\nThe three clinked their shot glasses and downed their drinks. \n\n\"Holy shit, that's amazing.\"\n\n\"Right?\"\n\n\"You realize what this means, right?\" Steve leaned forward and smiled at his friends. \"We have to monetize this.\" \n\n\"But how? We can't bottle it and sell it, they check the sources on that type of shit.\"\n\n\"We could open a tequila bar.\"\n\n\"What about health inspections?\"\n\n\"You let me figure that out.\" Steve sat back in his seat and stared at the tequila tree, thinking about all the possibilities it presented, and only the slightest bit jealous that he wasn't the one who technically owned it. The money would get sorted out later. Or so he thought.", "The tree had been a sapling when I'd been here last.\n\nThe fires raged. Endless. Furious. The machines marched, the men ran, and the bullets fell. Like so many raindrops. Like so many tombstones.\n\nThe fires snarled. My boots crunched against cinders and twigs - my breath struggled against soot and ash. My body screamed for rest, while my mind screamed in panic.\n\nThe fires roared. With a choking gasp, I stumbled into the yard. The gun felt heavy against my back. The armor felt useless against my chest. Somewhere, far behind me, the machines marched - sundering all beneath them. Somewhere, all around me, my comrades fled - seeking shelter from the slaughter.\n\nI collapsed against the lawn, my lungs giving out with my legs. All around me, the inferno raged, ripping down the house, the yard, the tree.\n\nI remembered living in this house. I remembered playing in this yard. I remembered the joy, the pain, the loss. I remembered planting that tree, so many years ago, with my tear-scarred mother smiling on.\n\nMemories flickered, and thoughts dimmed. The fires roared, and consciousness died.\n\n~~~\n\nRain.\n\nActual, honest rain. A tingling wetness, dashing across my face.\n\nI snapped awake, and struggled upright.\n\nThe fires had died. With them, they had taken the world. The house lay smoldering, the ground lay smoking, and the tree...\n\nThe tree had been a sapling when I'd been here last. Now, it was nothing more than ashes.\n\nHalf of me wanted to cry, to yell, to scream. It wasn't fair. They couldn't take this from me. Not this. Our whole world was burning, and I couldn’t even have that single memento. Our whole existence was collapsing, and I couldn’t keep that single memory.\n\nI reached out and clawed at the wet ash with a strangled sob. \n\nWhat I saw shocked the tears from my face, and shot a spark through my spirit.\n\nLife finds a way. Even in the face of total destruction. Even in the face of utter despair.\n\nFor beneath those ashes, a thousand tiny seedlings sprouted.\n", "“Hello again, old friend.”\n\n\n\n\nThe old man hobbled up to the tree and sat in the shade of it's massive branches.\n\n\n\n\n“My, how you've grown! Just like me, eh? How long has it been? 50 years? 60?”\n\n\n\n\nThe old man sighed and rested his sore back upon the great wooden monolith.\n\n\n\n\n“I remember gazing up at the heavens on that rock nearby, when you were still shorter than me. I grew and shrank, while you still grow. Truly an impressive achievement, tree. And you keep getting stronger! I was strong for awhile. Worked in the dockyards of New York City once I left. Owned a bar for a long time. Sold encyclopedias door-to-door for a few months.”\n\n\n\n\nThe old man closed his eyes.\n\n\n\n\n“You remember Sara, don't you tree? We thought we'd be together forever. I guess that wasn't in the cards,” he said, his voice faltering. “But you, old friend, you're still here. I never married, after Sara. No one even came close to her. No children. No family. But my friends... I had the best friends a man could ask for. Loyal, brave, and kind. They're all gone now. I'm the only one left. Well... you and me, tree. But soon... soon it'll be just you.”\n\n\n\n\nThe old man turned to look at his friend.\n\n\n\n\n“I don't have much longer in this world. I was always afraid of death as a young man, but now that it's nearly here, I don't seem to mind it as much.”\n\n\n\n\nThe man shut his eyes again and leaned back against the tree.\n\n\n\n\n“Since all my best memories have taken place here, I thought it was only fitting that my final ones happen here too.”\n\n\n\n\nThe old man breathed one final deep breath, and settled in, prepared for what adventure may come.\n\n\n\n\n“Goodnight, old friend.”", "Walking up the hill Josiah Morgan could feel the ache of old age. Upon reaching the top he looks up. What stands before him is a sprawling weeping willow tree. The last time he sat here this tree was just a sapling, and he had just been a boy. \n\nForty eight years ago Josiah was only 16 years old, but he was in love. Her name was Ramilda Mich and no one was as beautiful as she was to him. They met in school and we're quickly fast friends. That friendship slowly turned into love. Josiah asked Ramilda to the fall ball at school and she said yes. \n\nTheir plan was to meet at the top of the hill and go together. Josiah arrived right on time, but Ramilda was no where to be seen. So he waited. And waited. As it grew darker he grew more worried. He went to the dance hoping she showed up there. But no one had seen her. He went to her house. Her parents had watched her go but had not seen her since. Now they were worried too. This wasn't like Ramilda, she was a good kid.\n\nJosiah decided to take the path she would have taken to the hill. It was three streets over and not that far of a walk. But at the second street Josiah saw something that made his heart stop. A car in the middle of the road and a police car behind it with its lights on. He ran to the cars. As he got closer an officer put out his arms and stopped Josiah. \n\n\"Son you can't go over there\", the officer said. And this only made Josiah worry more. \"What's going on officer? What's happened? I can't find my girlfriend, did something happen to here?\" Josiah pleaded with the officer. But he wouldn't budge. Then Ramildas parents arrived. They were ushered to the police car. Josiah knew what it meant. Her mother looked over at him and shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes. He had to get out of there.\n\nHe ran to the hill. At the top he sat down and cried. His heart was broken. He had loved her with every ounce of his being and now he didn't know what to do. The next few weeks seemed like a blur. He attended the funeral. Received condolences from friends and family. But it all felt hollow. Then one day he found a note from Ramilda. \n\n Dear Josiah,\n I've always known you'd be my one and only. I love you very much. I just want you to know that no matter what happens in our lives you have to always stay positive. I know sometimes you can be a grumpy gus, but you can't live life that way. You have to attack it head on and fight for what you believe in. I love you Josiah. Thank you for being my one and only. \nLove, Ramilda. \n\nThat letter gave him courage, it gave him hope. He missed Ramilda with all his heart but he knew he had a lot of life to live. So he was going to live it to the fullest for her. The next day he planted a weeping willow at the top of the hill. A reminder that while we may cry we must always grow. " ]	4
	[WP]"Thank you for storing your mind with HeadSpace™!"	[ "> Thank you for storing your mind with HeadSpace! Thank you for storing your mind with storing your mind with storing your mind with only ten monthly payments of HeadSpace! Headsppppzzzzroat with heaaaaaaaaaaaa-\n\nThe turn of the century began with a speech, on a clean podium to a clean crowd living in a clean city at the start of a clean age. Even murder was clean now. It used to involve blood.\n\nThe plug dangled in his hand like a garrote. His victim had passed from this world peacefully. No fuss or struggle, a quiet death for a far too quiet life. He wore gloves, the brown leather groaned across his knuckles as he returned the plug to the wall and began his walk to the exit.\n\n> totototototo WELCOME TO HEADSPACE! WITH ONLY TEN MONTHLY PAYMENTS OF 16 WORK ORDERS, YOU TOO CAN ESCAPE THE STRESS OF EVERYDAY LIVING AND ENJOY ETERNAL RELAXATION AS IT WAS TRULY MEANT TO BE!\n\nDoors crystal on the inside, stained with filth on the out. He saw his reflection.", "I’ve been on hold so long that I’m not really remembering why I called in. I take a few long breaths, trying to keep my biology functioning as well as I can. Trying to keep remembering things when all your long term memory is stored in the cloud sure seemed like a great idea until the cloud stops working.\n\nShit, who am I on the phone with? All I hear is some very ethereal acoustic guitar and a very cheerful robotic voice telling me my call is important to “us”. I wish I could remember who I was phoning. I check the display on my phone. No hints from the number, but I’ve apparently been waiting for 3 hours. I wonder if I remembered to eat?\n\nI’m about halfway through a sandwich, chewing happily when I hear a voice calling out from my phone. Was I on the phone with someone? I look over at the screen and see a call time of 4:48. Swallowing a large chunk of sandwich and wincing while scooping up the phone and pressing it to my ear.\n\n“…ello. Is anyone there?” A rather effeminate voice inquires.\n\n“Yes, Hi there. I was just finishing my sandwich. What can I do for you?”\n\n“Oh, very good sir. Could I start with your storage account number and thumbprint verification via your phone please sir?”\n\nI really wish I had any idea who I was calling.\n\n“I’m sorry, I can’t remember which account I’m trying to access.” Comes spilling out of my mouth, as the front door slams behind me. My eyes travel up and down the street searching for hints of where I parked my car. I can feel my brain rolling over trying to picture whatever color my vehicle is.\n\n“… like we had discussed before sir. If you are unable to provide me with any of the accurate details I’ll have to forward our call to an account recovery specialist for further processing. I am required by company policy to remind you that trying to access another person’s memories is a crime and falls under copyright laws of HeadSpace tee- ehm.” Quipped the lovely sounding man.\n\nI contemplate this for a moment, my wrist flicking down to turn my left signal light on when I recognize that there’s numbers hastily scrawled on the back of my left hand. \n\n“771-68742, John Quenton.” I blurt, my heart jumping in my throat. How on earth am I breaking the law? I must just be contacting my memory storage company. I press my thumb onto the indicated spot on my phone and hear a pleasant chime.\n\nI can feel my mind pulling in a few directions at once. How can I remember things like owning a car, but not where I parked it? Did I eat already today? Whose voice can I hear. \n\nTHUMP\n\n“Well shit.” I hit the concrete barricade with the back end of my car, the curse flying from my mouth.\n\n“Is everything alright sir? You seem quite distracted.” Asks the lady I’m on the phone with. A quick glance at the call time shows just over 6 hours. I really hope this isn’t one of those sex lines that charges per minute.\n\n“I’m fine I think, but I’m honestly having a hard time remembering anything today.” Even I can hear the pleading in my voice, like an old man who can’t wipe his own ass anymore. \n\n“Oh! In that case let me forward you to our memory recall specialists who will be able to assist you further.”\n\nI guess I said the right words. \n\n“Quenton!” Booms down the hallway, the voice deep and menacing. Sounds like a boss who’s about to fire someone. I wave them off with my hand as I shift the phone to my other ear and sit down in my cubicle. My brain struggles to try and fire all memory banks for who I was talking to on the phone.\n\n“Could you tell me how long you’ve been having interrupted service for” Asks the puzzled sounding analytical voice.\n\n“Seems to be a time. My phone says I’ve been on this call for over 6 hours so longer than that.” I rattle off, while idly playing with the stitching on my boxers. Something about this voice sounds familiar. Just like someone I work with I think. \n\nI realize the booming voice has been howling at me this whole time. “…biggest emergency in our companies history and you show up 6 hours late in your underwear! I don’t know what kind of bender you went on, but you damn well better get on the phone and handle some of these tickets and help us find out what’s interrupting our service. And if you don’t figure out your shit I’ll be happy to release you back into the talent pool.” \n\nI could feel the rage subsiding part way through the tirade into a cold menacing tone. I doubt my expression was much more than blank. My head nodded itself up and down while my work reflexes kicked in and opened up my computer. The login screen happily shining with our cleverly crafted brain logo.\n\nThe booming voice wandered away ranting at people near me, freeing up my ears to pay attention to my phone again.\n\n“… but no other interruptions to your service. I’ll forward you over to customer care sir and they can follow up with you again as we resolve these issues.” Prattles of this voice, and suddenly I’m put back onto the hold music. \n\n\nI’m closing the car door as I hear the hold music cut out. The call timer shows a total time of 10 hours 27 minutes. Who the fuck hit the rear end of my car? I open the front door, realizing I have no memory of the entire day. \n\nI pull up my phone to dial and the call history screams at me. 67 missed calls. I’ve only made calls to my memory storage services every day for the last week. I must be having issues with my memory storage space. I call in and hear the pleasant welcome tone for the front line at work. “Thank you for storing your mind with HeadSpace^tm . We are experiencing a higher than normal call volume. We will take your call in the order it has been received…”\n\n\nHave I eaten anything yet?\n" ]	2
	[WP] You can unsubscribe from people, like you can unsubscribe from subreddits.	[ "Some people love me. Some despise me. Others are somewhere in between. But to everybody I say this:\n\nFuck you.\n\nThis is my life, and I don't need any of you. You're trying to scrape by a miserable existence but I, I am God! I am the master of creation and creativity! I am an artist and a genius! One day you'll all bow down and worship the ground I walk on!\n\nSo I put together some great content. No, I didn't steal it. I'm God. Everything was my idea. I get a big box and a megaphone and head on over to Town square. \n\nThe first day, I impart my divine knowledge of politics into the crowd. Rise and fight the man! Don't let the Jewish Aristocracy crush your souls! Follow me and I will bring you all into Valhalla! I turned quite a few heads, but the idiots just went faster.\n\nThe second day, there were some new people. I turned a few heads when I announced that Bernie Sanders was my running mate. But still, they ignored my divinity.\n\nThe third day, I decided to spice things up a bit. I called the imposters out on their sins to my pleasure. Rainbow whales passed by me as I screamed their sins.\n\nBut nobody looked up this time. No revilers. No admirers. No passerby noticed me.\n\nIt's been 3 days now. I'm dying. I've been shadowbanned.", "I opened my eyes, it was dark and quiet.\n\nI grabbed my phone and realised it was 4am in the morning.\n\n\"Shit, it happens again.\"\n\nI got up and went to the bathroom. I knew I couldn't go back to sleep again, it happened every single time. I washed my face and walked to my working desk, turning on the little yellowish lamp. \n\n\"2 unread mails.\" A notification pops up on my laptop. That's rare, ever since Figgle - the tech giant that provides almost all tech services, introduces Unsubscribe contact, my world has gone quieter. No more selfies, baby photos, food pictures, no nothing. They can't even reach me by phone. It's perfect.\n\nI opened my mail box, the first one was a newsletter from Figgle - \"New people to subscribe!\". It was a list of people who live nearby. By subscribing to them, I get to look at their profiles or even ask them out for a drink. Figgle must have detected that I have miserably few contacts. Thanks Figgle, maybe some other time.\n\nI went on with the second unread email, and paused for about two seconds when I saw the sender's name : \"Emilia Lu\". It must have been a decade since I've seen this name, clearly long enough to not have included her in my unsubscribe list. I opened the mail, and read the content:\n\n\"Hi Jake,\n\nIt has been a really long time, how are you? Last time I saw you was at our graduation ceremony, I think. Time really flies huh? So yea, I just came home from the reunion party, and you weren't there. It seems like everyone has no idea of where you were. I know time is different now, many people 'disappeared' from the Internet, but hey, we just wanna know you're doing ok. Just call me sometimes, will ya?\n\nAll the best,\nEmilia\"\n\nI gotta admit, she put a smile on my face, something that hasn't happened to me for a long time. Maybe she's worth getting in touch, maybe after all these time, I should really start having faith in friendships, or even relationships. I took a deep breath, and decided to give her a reply.\n_______________________________________________________\n\nShe wore a cute floral dress and smiled when she saw me. Her teeth were so white.\n\n\"Oh my god, Jake!\" She gave me a big hug.\n\n\"Hi, Emilia.\" \n\nWe sat down at this nice seaside cafe. I love how the breeze gently brush through my face, it's a good day for a good start I suppose.\n\n\"So Jake, how are you doing lately?\"\n\n\"I'm doing ok. I work remotely for a company in German, I'm coding their backend system now.\"\n\n\"I see, a programmer huh? Nice.\"\n\n\"Yea, I'm working on a new communication framework with my partner. It's gonna be huge, and robust.\"\n\n\"Cool, I see you like what you're doing.\" She sounded so sincere, it's a good sign.\n\n\"Definitely. And let me tell you something cool...\"\n\n\"Sure!\" She smiled, and then she turned around waved at a waiter.\n\n\"I just got into the FRG.\"\n\nThe waiter came, Emilia ordered a beer and asked me:\"You want something, Jake?\"\n\n\"Umm..sure. I'll have a beer too.\"\n\nThe waiter took our orders and left us.\n\n\"Sorry, what were you saying?\" Emilia asked.\n\n\"I said, I just got into the FRG.\"\n\n\"That sounds like something cool.\" Emilia smiled awkwardly, clearly she has no clue about what FRG is.\n\n\"It is, it's called Figgle Research Group, only the top engineers in the world are qualified to get in. We're a group of freelancers who work together for the next tech product.\"\n\nShe smiled, and didn't respond. A short silence moment followed. I started to feel uneasy, it didn't go the way I hoped.\n\n\"So other than work, what's going on lately?\" She tried to continue the conversation, which I had very little interest in anymore.\n\nThat happened a lot. People don't understand what matters to me, they don't care. It's absolutely difficult to find someone who aligns with your expectations. We often have to compromise what matters to us in order to make relationships work, and that, to me, is a complete waste of time. Life would be more productive if we focus on something more meaningful than a burdensome relationship.\n\nThe meeting with Emilia didn't last very long. We ran out of topics soon enough. We finished our beers and said goodbye, then I went home. I sat down in front of my laptop, and saw a message from Emilia. Without any hesitation, I pointed my mouse to the Figgle menu next to her name, and clicked 'Unsubscribe'. \n\n\"It's better this way.\" I told myself.\n\nIt was getting dark again, and quiet. I turned on my turntable, and \"Hang on to your ego\" from Beach Boys was playing. I buried myself in the sofa, and started reading. Knowledge from book was all I had, and it satisfied me like no one ever could. \n ", "11:00 AM:\nToday is my 18th birthday party! And in two hours, my closest friends will be joining me.\n\n12:00 noon:\nI've started planning it exactly one month ago, when my friends told me that they wanted to have a party for my 18th year in this world. There are balloons in shapes of weird things, an expensive cake, lots of chips, lots of drinks - and I prepared all of them myself!\nAll thats left to do is wash up and wait for another hour. \n\n12:27 PM:\nbuzz\nLooks like one of them is here!\n\n'Hey, hyping, It looks like I wont be able to come. My mother is really sick so I need to be here. So sorry!'\n\nOh.. Too bad for Roy's mom. I hope she feels better.\n\n12:29:\nring ring\nOh man! They must be waiting outside. Let me answer this call. Oh, It's Jacob.\n\nHey! Are you guys outside already? I'm com-...\n\n'Man sorry! The thing is, I cant come today. My sister is having this really big event at school and I'm the only one who can come.. Jenna and Katie might not come either.. I heard their parents gave them surprise concert tickets for a band TODAY. Anyway, enjoy yourselves there!'\n\nHuh. People are really busy these days, aren't they? Though it looks like its just me and my best man - Matthew, we will enjoy the day ourselves. Come to think of it, where is he?\n\n12:46 pm:\nring ring\nWhy isn't he answering his phone? He must be really busy preparing.. \n\n'Hey!! Happy birthday bro!'\n\nOh, finally! Matthew, you answ--\n\n'One second bro. I have to tell you something. The thing is, I can't come today. Remember Jenna? Yeah, we just became a thing today! I can't believe she said yes. So, ummm.. Can you do us this one single favor and let us have our first date? Please? I'm really sorry. I feel shy asking you this. I'll make it up to you. Gotta move.'\n\nbeeep\n\nThose motherfuckers. Now, I'm all fucking alone. ALONE. All my fucking effort gone to fucking waste. It wasn't me who wanted a party. It was THEM. \nI fucking knew it.\n\n\n......\n\nI will do it. I will make them fucking regret that they even THOUGHT of doing this. I will do it. The thing that we are never supposed to do. I will unsubscribe from them. I know what you're thinking. Oh no! Your memories with them, the feelings you've shared, the things you've given to one another. They will all disappear! You can't do it \nI DON'T GIVE A SHIT! I will do it. I have to do it.\n\n1:00 pm\n\nToday is my 18th birthday party! Two hours ago, I finished preparing. Finally, some me-time!\n", "They're gone. Not like smoke. After you draw a breath and exhale, it dissipates, until there's nothing left. But friendships? They never die.\n\nJohn had been there. For everything that matters. If I'd had need of a best man, John wouldn't even need to be asked. And then she came between us. I loved her. She was new, made me laugh. With John we would argue, butt heads and only make up when the respective party came to the conclusion they were in the wrong. That's why I loved most, we could admit our flaws.\n\nBut with her. I wanted to be perfect. I wanted to be right for her. And when she saw us arguing, she said to let him go. She made me step away from my best friend. And I did it. For her.\n\nI knew John was still out there. He hated her for what she'd done, but she did as she asked. For me. He sacrificed a friend, to save a friendship and for that I felt hollow.\n\nWe fell deeper in love. We got married. We honeymooned. And always I tried to please her. I'd catch news of John. Saw he'd moved somewhere, got a new job or tried a new activity. She didn't want to hear of it, so soon I learnt that leaving a friend meant losing a friend's memories as well.\n\nAnd then, one day out of the blue when I was shopping for stir fry in the supermarket, deciding between noodles and beansprouts, I bumped into him.\n\nI took my ring off. I dropped the basket of vegetables and diet tonic water. And I went to the pub and I revisited all of those old memories." ]	4
	[WP] You ran it a thousand times, all data confirms it. In 24 hours, an undetected asteroid will collide with the Earth. You just destroyed the evidence.	[ "May 4, 2018\n\nThe distant sound of the bombs creates a constant rhythm top harmonize with beeps and rings of my machines. With the large cooling fans making a constant whrr adding to the cacophony, it almost reminds me of the house jams I used to listen to. I used to go every weekend to the bars and raves to hear the latest DJ and their smash hits, but that was a different age. There hasn’t been new music in decades, and the bars and raves were some of the first things to go obviously. There were dens and havens of unpatriotic material. Young punks were always releasing anti-government songs and speeches. With the war being so important, we couldn’t be dissenters stirring up trouble. So all music and places where music was played were banned.\nBut that was long ago, after the enemy marshalled their troops in Eastern Europe, but before the nukes started falling. Now, anything west of the Urals is a radioactive wasteland. Nearly all of Europe was decimated when the bombs started falling, along with large portions of North America and Asia. I was lucky to be in an area that didn’t get hit. That was before the discovery of the energy shields that made nuclear weapons obsolete. Now they are as useful at making war as swords and muskets. \nI feel bad for the troops running the energy guns on the front. Even if they didn’t get shot, which was unlikely, the guns ran of their life energy, so even if they made it through their 5 years of service, they are just a shell of their former selves. But it is for the good of the country (and also mandatory.) The only reason I didn’t have to serve was my position here, at Apache Point Observatory. I was deemed “essential to national defense” as I searched the skies for high altitude and orbital threats to the nation. It was seen as a very patriotic position.\nThat was in the beginning. I haven’t seen anything threatening in over 15 years, and I think I might have been forgotten out here. I am the only one at this post and I haven’t heard from my patriotic government liaison in years, but my monthly stipend credit keeps coming through, so I keep searching the skies. I don’t want to tell anyone that I don’t want to do my job or that it is useless because they might think I was unpatriotic. That’s treason now, with an immediate sentence of death.\nI have heard it is worse on the other side. When they made their big push into Australia, they constricted every man, woman, and child who could hold a ray gun. They were able to take the country from us, but at a frightening cost. Now they don’t have enough people to work the farms. I have heard cannibalism in the trenches is quite common. Recently, the patriotic radio has been saying that new conscriptions are coming to push the enemy back. Apparently, we didn’t learn from our enemy’s mistake.\nI have no hope for humanity now, everyone who cared to live has died, and everyone who wants to die for their country is. It has made we question why does God, if there is a God allow us to keep going. Or if he will. I have seen something in my latest observations that might mean that God is planning on starting over.\n\nMay 28, 2018\n\nWell it is official, I have ran the simulations 1000 times, and the analysis is confirmed, what I saw on May 4th was in fact an asteroid headed straight for Earth, and it will hit in 24 hours. I suppose I should have reported it, but to who, and why? Nothing makes sense anymore. Humans were given this great world in which to live and prosper, and what did we do with it? Turn it into a nuclear waste. There is nothing good anymore, no art, no debate, no growth. There is only destruction. I can only believe this is a high powers way of wiping the slate clean to begin again. Hopefully the next attempt will be more successful than this one. It can’t get much worse.\nThe bombs are still booming in the distance, and the cooling fans are still whrring. You know, I bet if I set the simulation alarms just right, and get the bells going I could make this into some pretty good music.", "\"Hey Bob is me. Come on pick up I know you are there! Pick up the damn phone! This is important an asteroid is about it hit earth and I am the only one who knows about it! I have deleted all the evidence so know one knows!\"\n\nWell that got his attention, I knew he was there listening. And holy crap but I could do without the panicked screaming. Seriously panic never helps.\n\n\"Fuck, fuck George are you serious? Oh god how long do we have? Oh god, oh god I have to go get my children out of school and... and my wife! Oh jeesus she normally turns her phone off at work what am I going to do?\"\n\nBob babbled like that for a good five minutes. I let him go mainly because he couldn't hear me over his own incessant noise. But I had to admit getting his kids was a good idea. This would be far more educational than school for the day. But why his wife? She was never interested in meteorology as far as I knew. Then Bob's last bit of verbal diarrhea hit me.\n\n\"How long until we all die?\"\n\n\"What? How the hell should I know? Listen can I get a ride from you or not?\"\n\n\"George do not screw with me. How long until this stupid fucking rock hits our world and kills us all?\"\n\n\"Oh for fucks sake Bob its not going to kill anyone its not that big. I just want to get there first and claim the damn thing. How cool would it be to own a asteroid? Seriously man your mind always goes to the darkest places.\"", "\"Oh, shit.\"\n\nI stared at the monitor. This could not be happening.\n\n\"So, Ms. Apocalypse, what did you find?\" asked Al, the manager of NASA's Pleiades supercomputer. He had just walked into the room, probably to tell me the time I reserved with the facility was over.\n\nI hesitated, still trying to comprehend how much I screwed up. \"It looked like a close encounter, but...\"\n\nHe raised his eyebrows. \"Looked like?\"\n\nI debated whether or not to tell him, then decided to come clean. \"I uh, accidentally pressed the delete key. It wiped all the data before I could process it.\"\n\nHe smirked. \"Of course that's what happened.\"\n\n\"No, for real. I just need another few hours to run the test again-\"\n\n\"That's enough, Georgia. We're all tired of this asteroid crap. Just admit it was all a hoax, and maybe, just maybe you'll keep your job here.\"\n\n\"I swear, I saw it. It was like, 24 hours away.\"\n\nAl shook his head. \"Look, you may have had the media worried, but you're not fooling anyone right now. Get out.\"\n\nAnd that's the story of how humanity failed to notice the 10-mile wide asteroid heading straight for Earth. Needless to say, everyone died.", "At what price humanity?\n\nDo you know what it feels like to want to die?\n\nProbably not. You, who wake up, get dressed, emulate a mindless drone for petty cash, go home, whine about life - what do you know? You might as well be an animal, foraging about for scraps, concerned only about what you put in your mouth next.\n\nIt was science that was supposed to lift the people out of the depths of the gutter and turn their heads towards greater pursuits. Inventions as humble as the inclined plane and as advanced as the transistor were supposed to deliver them from the drudgery and suffering of being one work-hour away from death, to turn them into true humans. To give them the time they needed to better themselves.\n\nIt was science that stole their minds. The thirst for knowledge was stilted, then quenched by the ease of its retrieval. Rather than spend their ample leisure time in exploration, development and self-improvement, the people chose to gape at pictures of cats. The only thing worse than wilfully refusing to realise one's potential is neglecting to do so through sheer laziness.\n\nGuilty we are, if only in the court of our own minds. Only a fool hands a child a naked blade and bids him make merry; that is just what we did with mankind. Of course, the child does not know anything is wrong, even if he hurts himself. The child's mind is too insipid to consider anything more than his immediate well-being. But the fool knows, for the fool was not a fool, but a hopeful human being.\n\nThose hopes are dashed now.\n\nAnd in what world does the child hold the reins of power? We are the ones responsible for the life you now enjoy, yet you fetter us, and the chains chafe. We beg for the merest drop of coin so we can pursue the greatest purpose known to man, and you throw away fortunes beyond imagining on eleven men kicking about preserved bladders.\n\nWe understand enough about this world to know that it is unfit for humanity and too good for mankind. We, today's paragons of intellect.\n\nLess than a day from now, asteroid Nistaraka will make contact, catastrophically, with Earth. It is doubtful that any will survive. It is even more doubtful that any, other than us, know this. Even if they did, what preparations could they make, without our expertise?\n\nThe excesses of this age must be curbed.\n\nAt this price, humanity.", "23 hours and 57 minutes.\n\n\nYou watch the simulation one last time before clicking out of the program. Save simulation? No. Save data? No. Are you sure you want to empty the trash? This action cannot be undone. Yes. You shut off the computer, and its glass face acts as a mirror, reflecting the wideness of your eyes.\n\n\n23 hours and 52 minutes. \n\n\nYou don't know how long you've been sitting there, but it's been long enough to contemplate the impending death of you and everyone else. You know what a death sentence feels like. You've decided it was a good choice to keep this feeling to yourself. \n\n\n23 hours and 33 minutes. \n\n\nYou've driven home. You leave the front door open so that your little dog can taste freedom before he dies, but he doesn't leave. Always been fond of you, that dog. You briefly debate some sort of crazy last day, but you've never been much of a hedonist, so you take a nice, hot shower.\n\n\n22 hours and 19 minutes.\n\n\nAfter washing, dressing, and enjoying a late dinner, you set to the task that will consume the rest of your life. Cass... you had loved her once, and she had loved you, and just when the stars were about to align NASA stole you away to where she wouldn't follow. It's been years. You have to find her.\n\n\n21 hours and 58 minutes.\n\n\nThe internet is a beautiful place. You found her in New York. Spending all your money –and yet so little, when it's the last thing you'll buy– you find a flight out of San Diego that leaves at dawn. You message her, saying that you'll be in town on business. I know it's been a while, Cass, but I'd love to meet up.\n\n\n17 hours and 2 minutes.\n\n\nYou wake up from predictably unpleasant dreams to discover it's not quite light out yet. \"You can sleep when you're...\"– yes, that thought crossed your mind, but you enjoy sleeping, and there wasn't much better to do. Cass replied, inviting you to her apartment for drinks. Your heart, in spite of everything, skips a beat. \n\n\n15 hours and 13 minutes.\n\n\nYou're at the airport. By some quirk of human nature you've packed a small suitcase for a weekend business trip: comb, razor, soap, change of clothes, raincoat. As you make your way to your seat –it's nice to fly first class– you see the sun rise for the last time. You close your eyes against its brilliance.\n\n\n12 hours and 22 minutes.\n\n\nFlying over the desert southwest, the snow-dusted heights of the Rockies, the green-and-gold heartland, you can't help but be moved, just a little, by the temporary beauty of the world. To the concerned woman in the neighboring seat, you blame your red-rimmed eyes on lack of sleep. \n\n\n10 hours and 47 minutes. \n\n\nYou're here– New York. Six hours until Cass. Suddenly a latent hedonism fills you: you've got money, and in this city money can buy anything except for time. You treat some hobos to the best pierogi you've ever had. You blast classic rock in Central Park. You buy yourself a really nice watch for no particular reason.\n\n\n4 hours and 24 minutes.\n\n\nIt's time. You knock. She invites you in, as beautiful as ever. Skin like caramel, eyes for getting lost in. Despite your bartending failures in college, she lets you make her a drink. There are at least two things you desperately want to tell her, but you raise your glass, meet those dark, shimmering eyes, and smile. \n\n\n1 hour and 55 minutes.\n\n\nYou've talked for a long time, and though in a way you're happy, your mind won't stop turning and turning. Perhaps if you'd have thought this hard about the asteroid, you would have found the solution. But that question has passed, and now only one remains. You want to kiss her, but you want to die happy. What do you do?\n\n\n1 hour and 1 minute.\n\n\nYou've moved to the couch now, watching a movie but still talking over it, the way it's always been with her. It's an old movie –the actors in it are all dead– and it reminds you that when the human race is gone, our radio signals will be the only thing declaring our existence to the universe. She slips her hand into yours.\n\n\n21 minutes.\n\n\nCass. Her name rings like a bell in your ears. You love each other. Of course you do. You always have. Reveling in the newness of this feeling, you consider pre-apocalypse sex, and decide against it. You're probably too afraid, anyways, and it would only cheapen these last minutes for you. For her.\n\n\n4 minutes. \n\n\nIt's late, now, in New York. Cass is dozing off on your shoulder, and just for a moment, in the wine-sweetened darkness of her apartment, you can pretend it isn't happening. Your calculations were wrong– after all, Cass always used to help you debug your code. She'll be alright, here with you.\n\n\n1 minute.\n\n\nAs the sky begins to lighten with a light that is not the day, your quiet sobbing brings her to wakefulness. She moves towards the window, head tilted ever so slightly, not saying a word. You lean into the curve of her body. One last moment for Earth. All is calm. All is bright.\n\n***\n\nETA: WOW did this turn out longer than I was expecting– I really like it, though. " ]	5
	[WP] My name is Adam. I have just woken from a nightmare that I cannot remember. Tell me what I dreamt.	[ "You dreamt that the world was cruel and unforgiving. \n\nYou dreamt that every day, thousands of people die needlessly.\n\nYou dreamt that countries fought each other for resources, resulting in the death of innocent people.\n\nYou dreamt of a world where children were forced to choose a job they would carry for the rest of their lives. Where they were forced to study and give up their freedom in the race for money. In this world, money was everything. Money meant the difference between life or death.\n\nYou dreamt that in this world, big companies used children to make their products in order to save money.\n\nYou dreamt that the people of your dream destroyed the environment to reduce the time it took them to get to work.\n\nYou dreamt of a world where being a sheep, being part of the hive mind was better than being unique.\n\nYou dreamt of a world where people were more concerned with having others seeing their experiences than ever truly experiencing it themselves.\n\nAdam, you're still dreaming. Wake up Adam.", "I opened my eyes when I heard whispers. I tried to get up, but my whole body felt like it was made of plumb, paralyzed, I could only move my eyes. I could only sense vague shapes, since my room was dark. I could see some of my furniture, and the door.\n\nI looked around the room again, in search of the whispers, but they seemed to be coming from every corner of my room. The whispers seemed to be random gibberish at first, but with careful listening I understood. \"She's coming.\" they said over and over in harsh, rapid tones.\n\nThe voices stopped all of a sudden. Moments later, I heard her.\n\n\"Adam? Where are you?\" she said, before I could see the door slowly creaking open. My eyes froze in place. \"There you are.\" she said giggling to herself. She was pale, and her face was blank.\n\nThe whispers started again. Now, they were saying my name in a slow and menacing tone. She closed the door and started walking towards me and sat down on the bed, next to me.\n\n\"Adam, why did you wake up? You need to go back to sleep.\" she said before placing a hand on my eyes, and forcibly closing them.\n\nI opened them as soon as I felt her cold touch gone, to find out that she was also gone. The night felt darker than when I woke up, I tried to move my body again, but it was still paralyzed. The voices started speeding up, and I could begin seeing shadows lurking out of the corners of my eyes. I looked around the room, in panic. One of the shadows was hovering above me. It seemed to be shapeless, pure darkness just hovering in midair. I looked at one of the shadows that was lurking nearby, and then back to it. It got closer.\n\nI locked my eyes on it, not willing to let it get any closer. My eyes kept drifting away from it, and each time, it inched closer and closer, to the point that it was the only thing I could see. \"Goodbye\" were the words it said before dissipating into the darkness. The words echoed inside my mind for the following moments of silence.\n\nI felt that something touched my leg, I looked down and saw a pale hand grabbing it. And then another one, and another. They were colder than ice. The whispers started saying \"goodbye\" now, and with that, the hands started pulling me apart. The door of my wardrobe creaked open, and she came out of it.\n\n\"Oh Adam. I told you to go to sleep, didn't I?\" she said, before walking towards me again.\n\n'Stop.' was the only thought in my head. They started going faster than before. 'Stop...' I thought, as I felt I was going to be ripped in pieces, and she hovered above me.\n\n\"Stop!\" I screamed at the top of my lungs. They were all gone, and I was in control of my body once more. The first glimmers of sun started appearing from my window.\n\n\"See you tomorrow...\" I heard out of nowhere.", "It was a hot night. \nAdam was under just a sheet, instead of the comforter. He was lying awake, thinking hateful thoughts towards his poorly functioning air conditioner. The lights were all turned off. Only the sound of lukewarm air blowing through the vents and the soothing sound of his fan could be heard. \nAdam lay there, begging himself to fall asleep. He had a long day tomorrow. It was already past midnight! Then he started to feel the soothing darkness of sleep enveloping him. \n\nCLICK! A noise came from the bathroom, which was attached to the bedroom. Light shined in from under the bathroom door. He sat up slowly, trying to understand what was happening. 'Maybe I left it on?' he thought. Then there was another loud CLICK! Now the bedroom light was on. He tried to call out at whoever was turning the lights on, but his tongue felt paralyzed. Only muted mutters issued from his mouth. Then once again, CLICK! Suddenly it was daylight outside! \nAdam jumped out of bed now, and ran to the window. The scene he saw outside caused him to stumble and fall to the ground. There were apples, bright shiny glowing apples, covering the ground as far as his eyes could see! \"A sea of apples!\" he exclaimed. Just as he said that, he saw a small boat gliding over the apples, with a mime standing in it. Adam and the mime stared at each other a brief moment, when Adam felt a tap on his shoulder. \nHe shivered in fear, and instead of turning around to see who tapped him, he freaked out and jumped straight through the second floor bedroom window. But the window didn't shatter as he jumped through it. Nothing happened at all, it was as if it was just a hologram! And then... he was falling! The apples were no longer there below him. He kept falling, more than two stories. He didn't know where he was anynore, he couldn't make anything out. He was still falling. He looked down below. Hundreds of feet below, there stood the mime, in his boat, waiting. \nThe mime had his hands spread out as if to catch Adam. Then just before Adam hit the mime's outstretched arms, everything faded to black. \n\nThere was the sound of a fan blowing, and perfect dark. And Adam's panicked panting." ]	3
	[WP] - Something has been tailor made just for you, bring us through the moment and emotions experienced when you receive your completely custom item.	[ "already had something like this saved, never shared it though! :)\n\n\"Are you ready Cadet?\" \n\n\"Sir, I am Major, Sir\" Standing at attention, a slight grin comes to my lips... I can hardly contain the anticipation. Little does my commanding Major know; I've been waiting for this moment for a long time, my father was a pilot, my grandfather a pilot, his grandfather was a pilot; I come from a long line of military men, this is my time. \n\nMajor Dublin turns around, walks to the edge of the bay door and puts his hand on the opening key. \"Now John, I know you've done your training, but this is serious business, one false move and you're gone, you have thousands of lives at your fingertips, we don't take this privilege lightly.\" \n\n\"Sir, I know, Sir!\"\n\n\"I said, DO YOU KNOW?! CADET?!\"\n\nTaking in the deepest breath I could; \"SIR I KNOW SIR!\" \n\n\"That's more like it.\" ...With a hint of pride, Major Dublin turns the key and the bay hatch begins to open. \n\nPanel by panel, the bay door rises, with each panel disappearing at the ceiling... My heart rate rises just that little bit more.\n\nClickty clack, clickity clack, the door inches upward, each passing second reveals just that little bit more of my new kit. \n\nThe bay door disappears under the Viel of the ceiling and I stand at a distance, my Gundam finally in all its glory before me. Purple and gold cover its armor, the colors of my battalion, the special forces. These colors, they are close to my heart. Each foot, the size of an SUV, the shins covered in blast-proof plates, the knees with diamond-plated blades, my Gundam is set up for agile hand to hand combat; I will quite literally tear things apart that come my way.\n\nThe arms are thin, but covered in different defensive and offensives pieces of gear. The left hand with an energy shield, each fist with spikes and light machine guns, the handle of each sword poking up diagonally behind each shoulder.\n\n I'm right handed, so my Gundam had to be made in the exact same way, the sword for the right hand over the left shoulder will be longer and stronger, the sword for the left hand is a bit like a dagger, made for swift killings. It's an amazing feeling to have something of such speciality tailor-made... just for you. \n\nThe shoulder pads come out wide with blades jettisoning from the sides, perfect for lowering your shoulder and impaling oncoming enemies, that's my favorite way to take out other gundams... It's messy and satisfying; by the end of hand to hand battles, your machine is covered in hydraulic oil, almost like blood for humans, it gives a sense of savage destruction; there is no better smell than burning hydraulic fluid. \n\nI wanted to make sure the helmet of my Gundam was really special, I sacrificed a year's worth of wage to ask for just that little bit more customization.\n\nWith Glowing Eyes of topaz, it stares at the battle field with night vision, heat profiles, radiation profiles, and movement sensitivity, I can literally see a rabbit behind a bush a couple of kilometers away. Upon the skull is a beautiful and functional diamond-plated horn. It's beautiful, it's intimidating, it makes a statement. On the side of its head are missile mounts, 30 micro missiles line each cartridge and give me many options in large numbers of targets, not to mention that the middle pods look awesome...\n\nSeeing my design in the flesh is an intense experience; taking it in all at once, I begin to get emotional. Seeing that I'm in the special forces, emotions are not normally tolerated, I do my best to avoid tears on my eyelids and begin walking towards my Gundam. \n\nWit each step I increase my pace, my walking comes to a power walk, my power walk to a jog, and then a full out sprint.\n\n\"Cadet! Contain yourself!\" Major Dublin bellows\n\nLooking back, I smile \"Screw you major, this is my moment\" I think to myself.\n\nAs I reach the base of my Gundam I jump and grab hold the ladder to its cockpit. Grabbing each rung of the ladder I'm practically throwing myself up the distance. \n\nLanding myself in the cockpit, I press the invitation sequence and the hatch closes in front of me, the controls so tailored to my specifications that the hand and leg mounts might as well be vacuum sealed to my appendages.\n\nThe TFT screen and heads up display light up in front of me, and I feel at home. \n\n\"launch sequence in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1\", I plant my right foot and brace for the thrusters. \n\n9 Gs of acceleration, and blood rushing to my feet, I'm free... It's mine; Let's do this. \n", "The sound of my doorbell waking me up in foggy irritation as I lay inconclusive and too mentally debilitated to move.\n\nI stumbled to the floor and paused a moment before mustering the strength I needed to gather myself up and answering to whomever rang. Traversing through the dark house that was intentionally made so through closed blinds and curtains.\n\nThe familiar lonely white halls, each bare footstep on its elegant hardwood floorboards an echo of a melancholy past, making it's way into a melancholy future. \n\nSteadily, I opened the door, protecting my eyes from the bright light as I took a few moments to adjust. It was Portia, layering herself with thick cotton clothes and a long grey jacket, carrying a pleasantly wrapped gift in her hands.\n\n\"It's your anniversary today. I got you a present.\" She claimed, her gentle tone reassuring.\n\nI invited her inside and we sat in the living room beside each other on the couch. Ripping apart the wrapping and revealing a thin cardboard box containing the present I slowly removed the lid.\n\nA black hoodie, zipperless. I pulled it out of the Styrofoam peanut packaging and unfolded it midair, revealing the design of two wolves intertwined like Ying and Yang. Instantly I felt tears fall, their frequency and volume exponentially increasing. A surge of emotions overwhelmed me as nostalgia and solitude cloaked my mind.\n\n\"It's... it's exactly the same.\" I exclaimed, my sobs and snivels making it difficult to articulate myself.\n\n\"I know I had it made with the exact dimensions from his, only a much more finer fabric so as to last indefinitely, I thought it would cheer you up.\" Portia replied, her voice muffling as I embraced the piece of clothing, attempting to obtain closure or hug the remnants of a forgotten soul.\n\n\"You'll ruin it, come on lets watch How I Met Your Mother again.\" Requested Portia, her tender tone calming me down as I finally yet steadily regulated my sentimental outburst. \n\nWe sped through hours of HIMYM while Portia cuddled me, before asking me to brighten up the place. I promptly stood up with a shining confidence that even shocked me at its presence, opening up the blinds to a beautiful afternoon.\n\n\"Hey want to go back down to the beach?\" She inquired, invoking fond memories of youthful freedom and camaraderie. I nodded in delightful anticipation, wearing the very hoodie he had worn so often it was hard to imagine him without it.\n\nWe sat in the car, moving towards the beautiful sunset in front of us, the ocean glistening in beauty while the music filled us with joy. The darker days we're beginning to get a lot vivider as the gloomy clouds gradually cleared into a beautiful dusk.\n\n", "The old set had been worn out. They were cheap, old, breaking down more with each use. Christian allows a dull smile to cross onto his face as he opens the package with reverence. The smell of leather fills the room and he takes a deep breath in. Caressing his fingers gently across the softened leather, he admires the careful sewing and stitching work. \n\nThe zipper creaks as he draws it open with a slow movement, echoing in the room. Another few seconds and it’s open, letting him run his fingers just along the inside. His heart pounds with excitement, flipping the case open and the gleam of silver blinds him for a second. Christian figures that if he was the type, he would sit in a drooling mess as he stared at the beauty that lay inside the case. \n\nEach knife is handmade, carefully done so that they wouldn’t dull anytime soon. Each custom-made to his exact specifications, just like the patent-leather case. The handles are made of Bloodwood, a rich, bright red against the black of the case. His fingers caress up along the handle lovingly with a low noise of pleasure at the feel under his fingertips. \n\nGleaming in the light, the blades are Damascus steel, intricate patterns dancing before his eyes. They warp and change, stretching into pools of water and geometric patterns and even wavelengths of sound. \n\nChristian grasps one slowly, gently around the handle and lifts it from its designated place. There’s heft to the blade, but not enough to throw his movements off. The thin blade’s design seems to morph and change as he tilts it, running the flat of the blade over the back of his free hand. The edge is sharp enough that just a small press to his skin draws blood and a wicked smile appears on his face. \n\nThere’s a thump from downstairs and his eyes are down downwards, to the basement. At least he could see them in action immediately. He replaces the blade delicately and closes the case, picking it up as he gets to his feet and heads out of the study and down the stairs. The noises stop when he reaches the bottom of the stairs but he opens the door with a bright smile. \n\n“I have a delightful present for you,” he announces to the bound and gagged woman. ", "######[](#dropcap)\n\n\"Kovnik Surov!\"\n\nAlexsandr Surov, recently reassigned from the Khador's Navy to its land forces walked briskly towards the source of the shouted greeting. The city of Korsk was the capital of the newly proclaimed Khadoran Empire, a testament to the fortitude and ingenuity of its people. The city of over eight hundred thousand men and women thrummed with life, from the noisy train platforms where massive locomotives hissed great clouds of steam to the packed market squares where a dizzying amount of goods were available for sale or barter. The tall spires of the Menite temples and Morrowan cathedrals seemed to punch through the very sky, as did the various palaces and government buildings scattered throughout the city. Steamjacks lumbered about their duties, overseen by their jack marshals who shouted commands to their charge's primitive mechanikal minds. \n\n\"Kovnik Surov, good day!\" The voice belonged to a man in his early thirties, maybe five or six years old than the Khadoran officer. He wore a mechanik's uniform, the beige coveralls stained with grease and lubricant. A number of tools were shoved into various pockets, pair of welding goggles slung round his neck.\n\nAlexsandr Surov inclined his head in greeting.\n\n\"Senior Foreman Ivan Vostovich I presume?\" He held out his hand and the other man took it, liberally coating it with grease. Surov didn't mind; he had filthier hands working the tar soaked ropes of the warships in the Khadoran Navy.\n\n\"Yes, that's me.\" The other man said smiling. \"I imagine you want to see what we cooked up for you.\"\n\nSurov returned the smile. \"Please, lead the way Komrade.\" \n\nThe pair of men walked through the busy marshaling yards of the Rigevnya Complex. The largest of its kind, it was the headquarters of the Khadoran Mechaniks Assembly and the center for almost all modern marvels of the nation. It was said that a warjack came off its assembly lines every six hours, a number unmatched except in the southern nation of Cygnar's finest factories. Massive overhead cranes moved plates of armor or bundles of heavy pistons about the facility on great lengths of chain, guided by the expert hands of the workers. The din of welding and machine presses was extraordinary, rivaling the thunderous roar of a ship of the line's broadside. From the walkway that overlooked the sprawling assembly lines Senior Foreman Vostovich grinned.\n\n\"Impressive isn't it?\"\n\nSurov nodded.\n\n\"Very. In Port Vladovar they're working on new iron hulls. But this? This is... something else.\"\n\nSome twenty minutes later, how far this complex went! They came to a quieter portion of the facility, where the roar of the massive furnaces and presses were a distant noise. Men and women sat hunched over drafting tables, fine pencils in hand along with various slide rules and templates. The large potbelly stove set in the middle of the space kept things a comfortable temperature.\n\nThe foreman motioned Surov into a large room with a door to an outside yard, a dark green curtain blocking off view to a corner of the space. Surov inclined his head towards the hidden area.\n\n\"I assume that is it?\" \n\n\"Yes it is, Kovnik Surov.\" The mechanik walked over to the curtain, grease stained fingers wrapping around one of the edges. \"I present to you, your warcaster armor!\"\n\nHe yanked back the curtains to reveal a set of armor that was perfectly tailored to fit Alexsandr Surov. He had the measurements taken whilst learning to harness his innate magical gifts with the Greylords Covenant. The plates were painted a deep Khadoran red, trimmed with naval black. The shoulders were embossed with the symbol of Khador as well as his rank, a series of plates covered the vulnerable groin. Surov smiled at the sight, running callused hand across it smooth surface, taking in the single brass and steel smoke stack that projected from his back mounted steampack.\n\n\"It's a wonder of modern mechanika. Using designs taken from Ordic warcaster armor we managed to make it able to be submersed in water for up to five minutes; the coal feed boiler using pressurized air which is resupplied automatically through the arcane turbine. It also allows you to breath underwater for that same amount of time, forming a small pocket of air around you. It's a first for Khador, built specifically for the kinds of operations High Kommand is likely to assign to you.\" Vostovich said.\n\nSurov nodded absently, noticing how the collar of the armor dipped further than usual for armor. As if reading his mind the mechanik answered for him.\n\n\"I understand you naval infantry are proud of your telnyashkas.\" He pointed at the thin horizontal black and white striped shirt the kovnik wore beneath his black peacoat. \"What better way to show your foe who you truly are?\"\n\nSurov turned and seized a hold of the mechanik, hugging him like a fearsome cave bear.\n\n\"It's perfect, Komrade Vostovich! Thank you, a thousand thank you's! May I try it out right now?\"\n\n\"Of course, sir. Trust me, the enemy will learn to fear this armor and the man wearing it even more.\"" ]	4
	[WP] It is your first time in Las Vegas and first time gambling. To your surprise gambling is actually really easy. You haven't lost and you've been playing for a whole day.	[ "I couldn't believe my luck! Neither could the people around me. The dealer had begun to watch me for minutes at a time. I was sure that I would be asked to leave any second. I new I should cash out but this money was much needed. I haven't been in many Casinos and I had no idea how much money I had made. I think it must be a lot, considering how my fellow gamblers are looking at me. Drunk with joy, I gathered my chips and headed to the cash out center. Turns out I earned close to 97,000 dollars! \nI began to lose it, yelling with joy as I raced back to my car. I looked back over as I unlocked the door, no security guys running after me. I sat down behind the wheel.\n\"Yes!\" I yelled again, kissing the money. I drove home immediately, to tell my daughter the good news, but it wasn't until I got there when my joy turned sour. Her bed was empty. \nI ran all through the house, the money forgotten. Finally I ended up back in her room, where I noticed something. The sheets had been pulled off the bed, a picture of us smashed on the floor, and when I saw scratch marks on the floor I felt sick. I began to sob, all alone, she was the last of my family. Oh god, what would Wendy say? I began to cry some more, even when the phone began to ring. The message toned bleeped. \n\"... We have your daughter, and we need you to cooperate if you want to see her again.\" I ran to the phone, took a deep breath and picked it up.\n\nEDIT: I forgot about the \"first time in Vegas\" part", "-Dude, that feeling of winning in Vegas is gonna chase you forever! That 100 bucks, first of all, winning 100 bucks again is never gonna be enough, but, like, you probably won't even get to that again!\n\n-Yeah, well, like I said, I think I'm pretty responsible, as far as gambling goes.\n\nThe other men in the room chuckled, clearly getting the reference to a joke I had told previously.\n\n-Alright folks, that's all we have time for today, with our brilliant guest, the comedian Tom Broke! His new HBO special, \"I'm Broke!\" comes out next week, July 27th, go watch it, it's truly hilarious.\n\n-Well, thanks, and thanks for having me.\n\n-Alright, our next song is \"Generic bullshit\" by \"Some fuckin' sellouts\"..\n\nHmm, I'm not sure that's what the name of the song was, but I didn't care enough to hear, I guess I was supposed to stay for a while but I rushed out and got in the limo. I'm not a bad guy, I was just feeling tired. My agent was waiting inside. Some dopey old guy who wasn't much good at all, but I kept him because firing him would make me feel guilty. After all, his daughter had been so nice to me.\n\n-Hey man, good lookin' out on the radiowaves!\n\nHis way of speaking was really unique. I think he was born in Israel or something, but had spent long enough in the States that his accent became a nondescript foreigner amalgamation, and he spoke like every sentence he uttered was a famous one-liner from a 90's movie. He was a real product of american television.\n\n-Next stop, Vegas, baby!\n\nI had a gig in Vegas. You know, people say New York is 'the city that never sleeps'. I say bullshit, Vegas is the city that never fuckin' sleeps. I'd hate to live there, but it's fun to stay for a couple of days. After my hour of standup (which went great by the way), I decided to do some gambling, but where was I going to find a place to gamble inside this huge building I was in? So, like any sensible person, I headed outside. I saw tons of weird stuff, like a phony Eiffel Tower and Statue of Liberty, some pyramids and castles or something, no doubt trying to distract me from the crazy money I was going to make. Eventually, after a good 15 minutes of looking, I was directed by a newly-arrived tourist to a place that looked like a small diner. I came in, plopped down on a blackjack table (or should I say, the only blackjack table among all the slot machines), and started asking the dealer when to hit and when to stay. See, the dealer doesn't care if you win or lose. He just wants a tip. And this motherfucker REALLY wanted a tip. I was winning left and right, I thought, jeez, if anyone should be eyeballed by the pit boss and taken out back and beaten up, it should be him! I hadn't lost a single hand.\n\n-Wow, man, you're really good. Are you counting the cards? Isn't that illegal? Or, you know, frowned upon?\n\n-Heh, you're funny, Mr. Broke.\n\nI suddenly felt like I liked him a lot less now that he recognized me, but he was so enthusiastic and earnest, plus his mesmerized baby face was hard to dislike.\n\n-Actually, I really liked your last special, \"Broke Bloke\".\n\n-Yeah, I got a new one coming out next week.\n\n-Oh, I know!\n\nI kept winning.\n\n-You had a show here in Vegas, right?\n\n-Yeah, at The Rio.\n\n-And you're here now?\n\n-Eh, I just thought it would be a funny story to tell.\n\nHe started laughing, which didn't make me feel more at ease with the pit boss, who was staring at me. As he kept coming closer and closer, my heart started beating louder and louder, to the point I could feel the blood pumping to all the different parts of my body. He was now right next to me.\n\n-Hey, are you Tom Broke?\n\n-Yeah.\n\n-Hey, I'm your number one fan! Can we, like, take a selfie?\n\nNormally I don't do this kind of fan service, but I was so nervous I agreed to.\n\n-I thought you were coming over to take me out back and beat me up.\n\n-Hah, that only happens in the movies! Uh.. you know, this place ain't called 'Slots N' Sluts' for nothin'! We have a couple of girls we can introduce you to!\n\n-Hey, no thanks, but I'm sure my agent would like to take you up on that offer. In fact, I think he's already out somewhere spending the hard earned 10% of my money on girls!\n\n-Hehe, well, let me know if you change your mind. Here, have 20 dollars worth of chips.\n\nCool, I thought. I decided to immediately cash out and put my grand total of 96.12$ ..wait, what the fuck? NINETY SIX DOLLARS AND TWELVE CENTS?! I didn't even get to that 100 dollars sum I'd promised myself I'd win. Turns out it was a low-stakes table. How long was I playing for? I checked my phone, and it was midnight. The hell with it, I took my chips back and ran back over to the blackjack table. They had switched dealers.\n\n-Please place your bets, ladies and gentlemen!- he said, but no-one else was at the table.\n\n-I got 96.12$.- I said, with a mix of pride, confidence and disappointment.\n\nHe lazily shuffled the deck of cards a bit, and handed me 2 kings, while the 3rd king went to himself, along with a card facing down.\n\n-Should I stay?- I half-jokingly ask.\n\n-How should I know?- he replied in a serious tone.\n\n-Stay.\n\nHe revealed his card. It was an Ace.\n\n-Blackjack, house wins.\n\n-FUCK!\n\n-Sorry, sir.\n\nAs I got up and left, I swear that in the corner of my eye I saw his dull expression turn into a smirk. As I was going out the door, I looked back and saw the pit boss smiling at me from a distance.\n\n-Thank you and come again!\n\nWell, better luck next time.\n\nThank you for coming out tonight, you've been a great audience.", "It's been a week since John had arrived in Las Vegas. He wasn't one for sweepstakes, but when his own daughter entered him to win, he couldn't help but go.\n\nHe remembered entering a massive, very tropical-like structure with flashy-bright lights. Many people stood around socializing in all sorts of odd apparel. Women in fur coats, men wearing tuxedos and suits that John could only dream of affording.\n\nWhen he finally entered the building, he was greeted by two women in red uniforms. \"How are you today, sir?\" and \"Please enjoy your stay.\"\n\nNot thinking twice about it, John went straight to the blackjack table. He'd been on a roll this past week and he didn't plan on stopping. As the dealer dealt around the table, John had an ace face up and a queen face-down. He couldn't help but giggle. \n\nTo his surprise, everybody else had folded or busted, leaving John with thirty-five thousand dollars worth of chips.\n\nHowever, the day went on and seemed like John couldn't stop winning. Fifty-five thousand, eighty-eight thousand, and ninety thousand and he didn't plan on leaving at all.\n\neventually he'd found himself at some dice game he'd never heard of before, drink in hand he took the dice and rolled a perfect score. He couldn't believe his luck. \"Twenty-fifteen is a great year!\" He shouted only to be given odd looks by everyone. Suddenly someone passed behind him, whispering \"Meet me in the bathroom, I'll tell you everything.\" and before he knew it, the person was gone.\n\nJohn immediately left for the nearest bathroom to find an odd, geek-type looking through his wide glasses at him. \"John Mcnoud? You need to leave, you're in terrible danger.\" the man said.\n\"Come on, kid i've only been here for a few hours!\" he argued.\n\n\"No, you've been here for three years. Look.\" The guy pulled out his phone, revealing the date. October 12th, twenty-eighteen. John couldn't believe his eyes.\n\n\"Bullshit.\" John said and left the bathroom. While playing some Texas hold 'em poker, he couldn't stop thinking about what that man said. Curious, he decided to ask a nearby person the question that's been bugging him this whole time. \"Excuse me, sir, what year is it? \"\nThe gentleman to his left merely smirked. \n\n\"Why, two-thousand thirteen of course.\"\n\nJohn couldn't believe it. This had to be some stupid prank, he argued. He pulled out his phone - dead. In disbelief at the fact he charged it just hours ago at the hotel room, he decided to ask another person what year it is, but was interrupted by a waitress.\n\nHe looked at her up and down, her slim body and tight uniform made him stutter a bit. \"Oh, sir. Would you like another drink?\" she asked politely.\n\n\"Sure.\" he answered. One more couldn't hurt.", "Never done one of these before, but the thought popped into my mind. Also haven't written anything in a good 10-15 years....\n------------------------------------------------------\n\"Would you like another refill Mr. Burbank?\" stated the server as I finished off my previous one. I hadn't realized it until I finished my third drink, and with how nice everyone was being, that I hadn't lost a single hand yet. Four hours at the blackjack table and the pile of chips was steadily growing. It was around this realization that I found myself growing bored with the game and decided to finish up the hand.\n\nAs I stood up, the server returned with my drink and asked if everything was OK. \"Perfect really, just looking for something else to try out\" I told her. She nodded and walked with me to another section of the Casino. Arriving at another table, she whispered something to the dealer, and pointed to the end of the table for me. \n\n\"New shooter!\" he bellowed as he tossed me some dice. I started to explain that I had never done this before, but the gentleman next to me told me it was easy and to just put a chip where he was pointing and throw the dice. It seemed easy enough, and apparently everyone was thrilled I threw a 7.\n\nI still had no idea what I was doing after 30 minutes, and the rules didn't seem to make sense, yet everything I threw seemed to be what people wanted to see. It was also around this time that I realized the server from earlier was half hiding behind a pillar in the distance and seemed to only be watching me. It seemed odd, but I suppose I had won a lot of money tonight and my neighbor had told me how casino's will comp big winners. Wondering if it was all in my head, I stepped back to stretch and look around the casino more and she was suddenly next to me. \"Would you like to try something else tonight Mr. Burbank? Perhaps something a bit more relaxing?\"\n\nLeading me over to a poker table, she offered that cards seemed more my style. As she gestured something to the dealer, I started to ask why she was shadowing me, but not two words in and she ran off talking about getting another refill. I didn't even have a chance to tell her that I hadn't drank my last one and left it at the craps table. The dealer nodded to me as he gave me two cards, and I couldn't help the feeling that I knew him from somewhere. \"Was he the lifeguard from the beach last summer?\" I wondered as I shook my head in disbelief.\n\nThe slower pace of poker gave me some time to think, and it was around now that I realized I couldn't remember traveling to Vegas. I remembered winning a contest, and I remembered heading to the tiny airport, but everything after that felt like a blur. Hell, I couldn't remember getting to the hotel today.\n\n\"Your drink Mr. Burbank, on the house!\" she offered with a bubbly smile. This was about the first time I got a really good look at her and it felt like a haze was being lifted. \"Theresa?\" I exclaimed with surprise, as I recognized the teachers aide from high school history. \"Uh.... No! Sally, see?\" as she pointed to her nametag with wide eyes before running off again.\n\nDeja vu kicked in full force at this point, as I wildly scanned the room looking around. Noticing people left and right that I hadn't seen in years, though many of them were people I am pretty sure I only ran into once or twice. Pushing the drink to the side, I was dealt another hand. To recap, in the 10 minutes I've been sitting here, I've won every single hand, and now on the flop it looks like I'll be getting another flush if the 10 comes up. Yup, there is the 10 on the fourth card...\n\nNot being able to shake this odd feeling, I decided that maybe the day had just been too long for me and I was feeling exhausted. A glance at my watch told me that it was actually going on four in the morning. Pushing my chair back, the dealer looked up and stated \"Is that all for tonight Mr. Burbank?\"\n\nShocked, I took a step back. I don't remember telling him my name. \"How do you know my name?\" I stammered. \"I overheard Jane say it when she asked about your drink.\" Jane? Theresa? Sally? Who was this server and why did she seem so familiar? Why does 1 in 10 faces look vaguely familiar?\n\nShaking it off as the alcohol and travel, as well as the odd feeling of a huge pile of chips in front of me, I decided that a good nights sleep was what the doctor ordered. Pushing my chair back, I gave a nod to the dealer, slid him a chip as a tip and told him \"Have a good morning, and in case I don't see ya, good afternoon, good evening, and good night!\"" ]	4
	[WP] The entire world is infected with a virus that causes death on sleeping. Tell me about the coffee trade.	[ "Humanity had 100 years left. Tops. Death by sleep meant that there would be no new generations. Simply couldn't stop babies from sleeping. \n\nEven then, you could only stay up so long. Eventually you would simply wear out. Most people accepted it. Fell asleep in the arms of a loved one. It was peaceful. Not a bad way for the human race to go.\n\nWell. Most people are gone. Lots of bodies on beds. Doesn't look too bad. Doesn't stink yet. I'be been up 53 hours. Only people that drink caffein like water are still up. Tea. Coffee. Red bull. Whatever you want. Plenty of it for us. Demand went way down way fast. Left the supply. Good for us. \n\n89 hours. Last person I know to be alive. Jim said that he felt like he was burning and then passed out. Internet says something about increased metabolism caused by caffein raising body temperature. I'm not dead though. Good news. Bad news. Nobody else. \n\nBut I hate sleep. Need the caffein. I've been up for 219 hours and counting. Last person. I can see my hands shaking. My eyes burn so much. Maybe I could just close them. But last person. But tired. Think I'll close my eyes for a bit. Won't sleep. Just rest my eyes. I'll be back in a bit. Keep the logs up. \n\n\n\n\n\nA little off prompt, I know, but it inspired me. I'm probab to not right on hours, but I lack the time to go too into research. ", "“Number 20,500,” a loudspeaker blares.\n\nAbout damn time, I think, I was beginning to doze off. I manuever my way through a crowd of people to the counter. \n\n“What’ll it be today, ma’am?” a woman in a green apron asks.\n\n“Pike roast. Black. 8 ounces.” \n\nThe woman reaches behind her and pulls a lever, releasing a stream of thin brown serum from a nozzle into a crystal clear cup. She takes it and hands it to me. The second the aroma accosts my nostrils, my face contorts in disgust; I don’t like coffee, never have, never will. But ever since I was diagnosed with Severe Melatonin Dysmorphia, or Nocturne as most of us call it, I’ve relied on it to keep me awake. The second your brain succumbs to sleep, Nocturne kills you. I haven’t slept in 3 days, but many have gone longer.\n\nThe counter lady clears her throat and looks at me accusingly. Shit, have I really been standing here for that long? I grab my cup and take a quick look at her eyes. Hers have thick red that snake across the pale yellow backdrop like rivers. Clothing, jewelry, and fancy cars are wealth identifiers of the past. Ever since Nocturne, peoples’ eyes have betrayed their social strata better than Rolexes ever could. Those who have gobs of money can afford coffee. Those with empty wallets are left with empty cups, like this poor girl. She can’t even afford enough of the stuff she is selling. \n \nI leave the shop and sip my coffee as I walk through the city. The orchestra of car horns and footsteps has been replaced by a symphony of yawns punctuated by the occasional percussive thud of another person taking the “big nap”. Mug toting beggars and vendors with pitchers line the streets. I rarely give or sell because I can’t afford to; coffee prices are rising at breakneck speeds, and the free market doesn’t seem to care that java is the only thing keeping people awake and alive. The companies defend themselves by proclaiming that demand is demand, and that they’re willing to sell if people are willing to buy. Our government tried to take the stuff and distribute it fairly, but the companies cried socialism and wouldn’t allow it. So the companies sell. The people buy. They pawn their most prized possessions to pay for a cup of murky liquid, just to prop their eyelids open until they can afford their next dose. Or until they can’t. Then they succumb to sleep, becoming nothing more than another thud in the symphony.\n\nSoon coffee won’t matter anyways; caffeine can only keep us going for so long. But until then we cling to the stuff, desperate to elude the sandman for a few more hours.\n \nI take my last sip. Never has coffee tasted so bitter. \n" ]	2
	[WP] 5 years ago Atlantis remerged in the atlantic ocean with all it's citizens still alive. Today Poseiden attends his first UN meeting on behalf of Atlantis	[ "People thought the beginning was chaos. That was not chaos, merely talk! Military was there almost as soon as it popped up, UN thought itself in chaos an hour later; regular people found out soon enough. \nThe real chaos began when the roof was torn off and bright sunshine poured over the assembled leaders and senior diplomats of Man. A voice like deep thunder sounded from the very ground: \n\n\"...Look here, all kings of men assembled! Assembled to discuss me as though I am some stranger knocking patiently at your door? Assembled perhaps to honour me, but there are no prayers: No sacrifices! What has become of Mortal man? Assembled, trembling in your disgusting defiant hall that pollutes what was once serene shoreline! I am deaf to pleas of those who mock the shining ocean with cities of mirrors-- \nBut I have had enough of the ocean. My great brother, his perch high on Olympus is abandoned, and his people scramble in ruin of his desertion. Well, at last land and sky shall be mine! Tremble now, descendants of Zeus, for I must take the final step in absolving my brothers mistakes.\" \n\nPoseidon the Earth-Shaker roared with the might of a true God, as has not been seen by Mortals in many long years. The seas rose up to engulf the earth, the ground broke apart, heaved and turned like raging surf. All was calm in the city of Atlantis, and its citizens slept while the plants and animals were given their right to establish themselves first in Poseidon's world.", "\"The floor will now recognize the delegate from Atlantis.\"\n\nWith these words the normally bustling hall was suddenly as quiet as a church. Every representative watched the podium with rapt attention, eager to see the the delegate of the formerly mythical republic of Atlantis. Calling himself Poseidon his introduction to the UN had been marked on the Agenda but few had seen the Atlantean until now. Needless to say, many detailed reports were about to be written.\n\nWhat was wheeled up to the podium, could be generously called disappointing. There were muffled giggles and snorts of derision. Sitting in a wheel chair was more of a blob than a man. His skin was so pale it was almost grey and looked somewhat slimy. He seemed to be struggling to support his completely bald head and if it weren't for his cushioning second chin he might have needed assistance. Behind thick tinted spectacles you could tell he was squinting as if trying to look into the sun. Next to him an assistant stood poised with a spray bottle which he used to spritz the Atlantean every so often.\n\n\"Thank you GASP Secretary General. wheeze\"\n\nThe ensuing speech was painful to listen to. Each sentence was punctuated by a gulp for air as the Atlantean ambassador thanked the UN for recognizing the sovereignty of the newly formed island republic of Atlantis. Furthermore he explained that it had not been the intention of the Atlantean governing council to appear so suddenly and so soon but that unexpected geological events had caused Atlantis to surface early. After a long rattling gurgle he opened the floor for questions. The delegate from America jumped immediately at the opportunity.\n\n\"Are you the Poseidon of legend, God King of the ocean depths?!\"\n\nThe Atlantean seemed taken aback at this.\n\n\"Um... no. Poseidon is hork a fairly common name in Atlantis.\" \n\nAlthough this had been the question at the forefront of everyone's minds it didn't stop the assembly from giggling like school children as the American delegate took his seat flushed with embarrassment.\n\n\"Are there any hisss serious questions?\"", "The lights flickered and the muttering of nations quelled under the glare of Atlantis' representative to the United Nations' General Assembly. The man wore a navy suit with a soft white tie, a small trident emblem pinned to his lapel.\n\nThe man spread forth his arms, \"Beyond the Pillars of Hercules,\" his voice boomed, \"a new nation has arisen! A nation that will not bow under the tyranny and threat of the old world.\" The man gave a mocking smile to the audiences stunned silence. They had all witnessed the horrors of what had happened years earlier.\n\nWithin days of Atlantis' discovery, the Alanteans had struck hard and fast at their ancient Athenian rivals. The nuclear strikes had killed millions and had left the Balkan states devastated, and all the while the world stood and watched, unable to comprehend the unleashed military might of Atlantis.\n\n\"But now,\" the man continued, \"we have returned to reclaim the position that is rightfully ours. But we do not stand before you as conquerors, no. We stand as liberators from an ancient agitator. So please, allow me to introduce you to the God-King of the seven seas and lands East of Mediterranean,\" he spread his arms wide and bellowed, \"Poseidon!\"\n\nThe doors to the assembly hall slammed open so hard that they cracked in half. A man in golden armour strode forward, a silver trident in hand and a contingent of heavily armed soldiers at his back." ]	3
[info on his military career](http://www.military.com/veteran-jobs/career-advice/military-transition/famous-veteran-bob-ross.html)	[WP] Bob Ross snaps, and dips back into his old military training to deal with the problem.	[ "It was time for his first deployment. Having grown tired of his painting, Robert decided to re-enlist in the military and go back to the world which inspired him to paint in the first place. He clutched the grip of his rifle as he and his squadron advanced on the enemy, crouching in the shadows so that they wouldn't give away their position. Five men all kept formation as the closed in on the objective, I high priority target for the U.S. Their goal was to infiltrate the unarmed mansion and assassinate a foreign minister who was known for assisting a local terrorist group. Robert flashed a signal to one of the men, showing him that he was supposed to take point outside the back door. He quietly inched closer and placed his hand around the handle, and he began to turn the knob. A deafening shot was then heard - the squad watched as the man's head burst into a grotesque ball of crimson as a 50. caliber round pierced his skull. The four remaining men, including Robert, all dropped to the ground. He began shouting orders to his brothers in arms, \"SNIPER - EVERYONE TAKE COVER.\" They all panicked as they tried to find a new vantage point. All of them lost their calm - except Robert. He ducked behind a nearby wall and tried to make out where the shot came from. He heard another loud \"pop,\" followed by a sound similar to that of a water balloon striking pavement. Another down. Three remained. The men, still panicked, got up and booked it over to were Sergeant Ross was hiding. Now that they had regrouped, they had to come up with a new strategy. \"What the hell is this?! I thought this was supposed to be an unguarded target,\" whispered McCarwick. He was right, it was supposed to be an unguarded target. Apparently the intel they received was false. \"I'll deal with HQ when we get back from this,\" said Robert, \"For now, let's find out where the hell this sniper is nesting.\" The other man, Private Kelly, peeked his head around the corner, only to be greeted by a bullet. It struck the left side of his chest, puncturing his lung. He bellowed out a breathless gasp and then fell to the ground. \"Oh fuck!\" McCarwick began to hyperventilate at this point, going into shock from the events he had witnessed up until then. \"I can't do this...I can't..they don't train you for this kinda shit...I..I..\" He was useless to Robert at this point. He would have to take care of this by himself. He took a rock off the ground and tossed it over the around the corner. Pop. A shot was fired coming from around 200 ft in front of the wall. Robert took out his pistol and began to sneak around the corner, right in the snipers blindspot. It would take him ten minutes to get close enough to land a shot without being seen, but he had to bide his time. Roughly 5 minutes in, he heard McCarwick let out a gruesome scream, followed by silence. There were two known enemies now. He was the last one left. Hurrying now, he was close enough to where he should be able to land a shot. Sure enough, he saw the sniper nested behind a rather large rock, unaware that he was about to be robbed of his life. Pulling up his pistol, he planted the cross hairs right on the mans head, and with a deadly accurate shot, he pressed his finger to the trigger. As the sound of gunfire traveled through the air, the sniper turned his head just in time to see Robert ending his life. At that same moment, the second man came up behind Sergeant Bob and tried to get a solid grip around his neck. Bob struggled with the man for a few seconds, then was able to free himself. The two sized each other up for a moment, and then exchanged punches. The enemy swung for Bob's gut, but was unable to land a solid punch, as he was stopped by a powerful block. Bob had years of hand to hand combat training, and was thoroughly prepared for a situation like this. Rushing forward, he tackled the enemy to the ground and swung a punch at his face, making contact with the soft tissue on the side of his face. Then, something happened. Something snapped inside of him. He took another punch, this time at the man's nose, breaking it in an instant. Then another, and another, until the man was beaten nearly to death. Bob stood up, looking at the work he had created - and smiled a gentle smile. \"Please..I have a family..\" The man begged. \"I had a family too.\" Bob was speaking in a friendly, calm tone that the man recognized. \"Wait a minute..you're the guy who paints on TV..please..my kids love your sho-\" There was a shot and then there was silence. The man was now dead, and that meant there was only one more target left, a target who had no more body guards. Bob walked up to the house, the bodies of his fellow squad mates strewn about in puddles of blood, McCarwick's gut sliced open by a knife, still sticking out of his stomach. He walked up and pulled the knife out, and began his walk towards the door. He grabbed the knob, with a knife in his hand, and twisted it open. Inside was the target, cowering in fear at the sudden realization he was trapped. Bob smiled a friendly smile and walked towards him. As he did, the man sprinted into his bedroom and tried to hide behind his bed. The blankets were all completely white just like an empty canvas. Bob entered the doorway, seeing the man crouched in a ball in the corner. As he heard sobs, he inched closer and closer, the knife ready to slice open a human being, and whispered one final sentence before he began his work. \"Now we'll just paint a happy little bush...\"", "\"INCOMING! GET DOWN, DARNIT! GET DOWN!\" Sergeant Ross's voice boomed as the mortar rounds began slamming near his squad's positions. His men dived for whatever cover they could find to shield themselves from the rain of high explosives and shrapnel. \n\nIt felt like an eternity, but it was only a minute or two; his men were visibly shaken, their first trial by fire. No one was hurt- seriously at least; a young private said he'd been hit, but Ross looked and laughed. \"You'd know if you were hit, son, yes you would. Oh, you'd be in Agony City by now. That there is just a little nick.\" His men laughed as the private looked at the scratch from a tree that was hit by an incoming round and sent splinters everywhere; the young man that got hit laughed along with his comrades. They weren't laughing at him, nor the 'wound' either; they were laughing out of nerves, having survived that brief glimpse of Hell. Ross knew better than to rest, however; artillery was usually the precursor to an attack or advance.\n\n________________________________________________________________\n\nHe had the men begin building hasty field fortifications to repel any advance in their sector. Foxholes were fortified with tree branches and sandbags in case another softening up via artillery came their way. \"The trees are oh so soft, oh so soft I freakin' love it. Hey! Leave those smaller trees alone! Little raccoons and old possums 'n' stuff all live up in here. They've got to have a little place to sit. Leave something for them! Jenkins, watch out for that sapling next to you! Maybe in our world there lives a happy little tree over there, but it needs to be able to grow first without getting trampled by some clumsy grunts like us!\"\n\nThe attack never came that afternoon and they sat in their positions, talking to themselves and get a few updates from the command post via radio. As night fell, the talk turned to home. Some were from the city, some from the plains of the Midwest, others from the Appalachians; their squad was a microcosm of America. The one member of the squad that didn't fit their hometown was Giovanni Bartolini; his comrades howled with laughter when he told them that he grew up in Valdez, Alaska and worked on fishing boats with his father and older brother until he joined the army to see the world. Ross chuckled along with the rest of the squad when Bartolini asked if anyone had ever been there before when compared to the others' hometowns like New York City, Omaha, and Chattanooga: \"Alaska was my starting point, too, even though it's not my hometown; oooh, if you have never been to Alaska, go there while it is still wild. My favorite uncle asked me if I wanted to go there, Uncle Sam. He said if you don't go, you're going to jail. That is how Uncle Sam asks you.\" The squad howled with laughter at their sergeant's remark, while at the same time wondering how the soft-spoken, churchmouse-like sergeant did to almost end up in jail since he seemed like the last person to ever be headed in that direction.\n\n\"Pssst, hey Sarge, you can't sleep either?\" Bartolini couldn't sleep no matter how hard he tried; the trees look like enemy soldiers and also hid any that might be approaching. He couldn't calm the frantic pace of his mind. \n\n\"Yes, just making my nightly rounds, Bartolini, making sure everyone's tucked in for the night, heh. What are you doing up this late?\" Ross knelt next to Bartolini's foxhole and spoke quietly so as not to wake the others.\n\n\"Can't sleep, my mind's playing tricks on me, you know? These trees look like they're enemy or hiding the enemy, like I won't seem them until they're right on top of me.\"\n\n\"You don't have to worry, Private, you've got just as much camouflage as the enemy; remember what your uniform looks like. That makes it look like birch trees, isn't that sneaky? Heh. Ha. It's gorgeous. Besides, you're hunkered down low, unlike the trees. Try to imagine that you are a tree. How do you want to look out here?\"\n\n\"Short and away from incoming mortars, heh!\" Bartolini replied, laughing at his retort.\n\n\"Ha. That's good. Get some sleep while you can, the sentries are up so you don't have to be. Big day coming soon, hopefully command lets us know when it's coming before the enemy arty does. Heh. Ha.\"\n\n________________________________________________________________\n\nCommand didn't let them know of the enemy's arrival, but the ground shaking underneath the tracks of their tanks and APCs did. Even those men that were the deepest sleepers woke up in an instant and instantly knew what was in store. Sergeant Ross moved from foxhole to foxhole, giving words of encouragement to his men.\n\nHe got grim news from command as he radioed the suspected size and make-up of the enemy's forces: there would be no reinforcements; he and his men would have to hold the line. \n\nHe got into his fighting position and steadied an AT-4 on his shoulder, aimed in the direction the vehicles seemed to be coming from. He saw his men were just as tense as he was; everyone knew what was headed their way. He exhaled slowly, before addressing them one last time: \"Well, the little clock on the wall says we're just about out of time, men! We're gonna make some big decisions in our little world! Here's your bravery test!\" \n\nWith that, he let fly his anti-tank rocket and watched it slam into the front of the lead APC as his men opened up on the approaching enemy.\n\n________________________________________________________________\n\n[Dialogue Source](http://www.bobrossquotes.com/quotes.shtml)\n\nFun prompt! I tried to cherry pick the quotes and apply them to the situation; some felt a bit forced while others seemed to fit pretty well. \n\n\n\n " ]	2
	[WP] "You go to heaven for the climate, but you go to hell for the company."	[ "You didn't know exactly how to describe it, but the ritual of waking up every Sunday morning, instead of suffering the hangover your friends endured, had finally come to fruition. You tried to sway them from their ways, but they were convinced, with absolute volition, that you were following a fairy tale. \n\nHere you stood though, rolling planes of white mist gently touch your legs, stretching out toward the horizon. The Sun provided a soothing warmth, juxtaposed with the the cool tingle of the clouds caressing your legs. You look around at the glowing magnificence of landscape the Lord had carved. It's simply pure.\n\nYour head swivels as you hear a voice from behind you.\n\n\"Hey friend, isn't the Lord's work great?\" this stranger says behind a gaping smile.\n\n\"It sure is\" you reply, \"you worshiped the Lord too?\".\n\n\"Sure did friend, all my life. He really is the greatest, huh?\" the stranger says.\n\n\"Oh absolutely, worshiped him all my life. So what's your name?\" you ask.\n\n\"Oh, we have no names here friend, we're all only called The Lord's Children.\" he says.\n\n\"Oh cool, so what did you do on Earth?\" \n\n\"Worship the Lord of course!\" \n\n\"Oh yeah, of course. So what should I do now that I'm in Heaven?\"\n\n\"Why, marvel at the Lord's work! It's truly great, always sunny and pleasant here. I spent most of my day just mowing the lawn all day Sunday. I prayed for this type of weather for mowing, it seem like that was heaven. The Lord showed me however that I was paying too much attention to my lawn instead of his ways, so this is so much better.\"\n\n\"Yeah, the weather is certainly nice here.\"\n\n\"Sure is!\" he says.\n\nYou both stare vacantly at each other. Your eyes trail toward the sky where the Sun is shining, but not too brightly, and is partially covered by a constantly strolling cloud. \n\nYou think for a second it is minutely hot, a tad over the mild 70-something degrees. You prepare an arid comment just to continue the conversation. As soon as you open your mouth the temperature is immediately rectified, as though your displeasure was noticed by an ominous presence. \n\n\"Were you about to say something?\" asks the stranger.\n\n\"No, I guess not.\" you reply.\n\n\"This is great huh! I heard East Heaven is having some fantastic weather too!\" he says.\n\n\"Oh... yeah, I'll bet.\" you reply.\n\nHis gleaming smile continues to beam directly at you. Your brow furrows, but you continue looking around at the nice atmosphere. You look up at the Sun's clouds again.\n\n\"Huh, that cloud kind of looks like a joint my friend used to carry all the time.\" as an awkward chuckle escapes you.\n\n\"Oh I wouldn't know friend, never been around the stuff. Not really the Lord's work, you know?\" he says.\n\n\"Well yeah, me neither. I mean I had a friend, his name is Gary-\"\n\n\"Nobody's named Gary up here friend\" he interrupts.\n\n\"Never mind.\" You sigh.\n\nYou look back up, and all around. Your eyes slowly close and you inhale a deep breath through your nose. A smile stretches slowly across your face and you let out a stark exhale. You then open your eyes, looking the stranger directly in the eyes.\n\n\"To Hell with this.\" You calmly say, and slug him across the jaw.\n" ]	1
	[WP] There is a place where the worst of humanity are kept. 4 miles down, 5000 guards, 500 prisoners, 1 way in, 1 way out. Welcome to Facility V, codename "Hell".	[ "When news finally reached my department it was already too late. At some point during the previous shift, certain areas had begun to lose power to their security systems, specifically levels Seven, Eight, and Nine. We were all assured that it was a technical malfunction, and to continue our shifts as normal. I'm not sure if it's simply a faulty memory or that my gut knew something I didn't, but I swear I was much more on edge than normal that shift. I spent the first few hours on my normal routine, trying as hard as I could not to think about how terrified the guards on those levels must have been.\n\nThankfully for me, I'm a guard on Level 1, and even though we don't have the best ratio of guards to prisoners compared to some of the lower levels, most of the prisoners here aren't really all that bad in comparison to the monsters below. Most of these guys actually have the possibility to be paroled, but one way or another they screwed the pooch when it came to getting released and wound up here in some bullshit scheme to \"alleviate overcrowding.\" That's not to say that these are a bunch of saints, each and every one of them could easily turn a normal prison into a hell house at best, but in comparison to the other levels they only get away with killing about three to five inmates annually, which may as well be zero compared to Level Seven.\n\nAs I was monitoring the increasing restless population, a message popped up on my monitor that made my blood run cold. It was a mass email to the entire staff, and it simply read \"They're out and armed.\" This was of course a startling message, but the sender is what drove me to immediately send my entire population of nearly two-hundred into their cells in an immediate lock-down. The email had been sent by the CO on the Level Seven, or \"Little Bighorn,\" as we began calling it after a few dozen guards were murdered in cold blood during a routine cell check. Those fiends were beyond simple murderers, murderers I had at least fifteen of at any given time. They're a living embodiment of violence, from mass slaughters to war crimes to serial killing, if it involves ending another life, one of them has found a way to do it. After locking down my entire level, which had the unfortunate side effect of sealing the main entrance off, I tried to piece together what had happened over the course of those awful 72 hours, with limited success. Thankfully for me, we were able to keep things under control, until an all clear was given for Levels One though Six. Then came the arduous task of figuring out what the hell had happened in those lowest levels.\n\nUnfortunately the entire staff of levels Seven, Eight, and Nine were completely wiped out during the rioting, and until we can finally starve out those monsters that we were luckily able to trap down there we won't be able to figure out for sure what happened over the course of those 72 hours. Our best guess after examining numerous emails that were able to be saved off-site, some guard on level nine was compromised by one of the three prisoners we keep down there, and was convinced to flip a few switches to cut power off to those bottom levels in what he thought was an exchange for his and his family's lives. I personally don't know how someone dumb enough to believe that any of that rotten trio would ever keep their word, as he was the first one killed, and we made the connection after word was received that his family had apparently been burned alive in a horrible attack on his home. Somehow inmates on Level Eight were able to deceive many of the guards on levels Eight and Seven to \"take a night off,\" and utilized the breathing room to slowly but surely get a hold of weapons and then hunted down the diminished force of guards down one by one. We still aren't sure of what their long-term goal was, but I decided to cash in some of my vacation time once I realized that if they're end-goal had been to escape, they would have had to come through here, and I would have like been one of those poor bastards who happened to be on shift that night, only identifiable by my dental records and my name tag.", "It greets me every day as I take the elevator four miles into the godforsaken hole in the ground: the crudely stenciled sign, right in front of the first set of security gates. \"Welcome to Hell.\"\n\nOr rather, \"Welcome to Facility V,\" except that someone scratched out \"Facility V\" and carved in \"Hell\" instead. Nobody -- not us guards, not the prisoners, not the newscasters topside, not even the politicians who named it -- call it Facility V. That makes it sound sterile, docile. Like one of those white-walled, white-carpeted sanatoriums.\n\nThere were sixteen of us in the elevator today. Standard procedure for a new arrival; fifteen guards with the prisoner, another fifteen on the surface in the event of an escape attempt, and fifteen waiting to receive the prisoner.\n\nHe's got short brown hair, I know that. Tall, too, and white. That's all I know about him. \n\nMetal scrapes beside me and instantly I turn towards the noise. That's when I make my first mistake; I look into his eyes. My eyes dart away even faster than they had darted towards him. Most of the guards avoid meeting the eyes of the damned. But I saw something that I can't explain, and I look back again. Professional curiosity. \n\nI wish I hadn't. You can see it in his eyes - he's got the eyes of a runner. A man who isn't like the rest, who have killed and maimed and tortured and still relish doing it. He isn't eager to prove his brawn or nurture power. He isn't twisted and sick like the other scum of the earth -- at least, not completely. He is afraid.\n\nThe resounding click of the elevator locking into its foundations jars me away. I reach down to release his chains, just as I do for every other prisoner. I give a slight tug on the chain to signal that it's time to move. He obediently walks through the elevator doors, stopping just in front of the cadre of guards lined up in wait. Someone gives the hand signal and the guards step aside, revealing The Sign. \n\nThe prisoner looks back at me, and I don't look away. Mistake number two.\n\nThat -- that look, that's what's unhinged me. He's pleading for his life, to look the other direction just this once and let him go free.\n\n\"One way in, one way out.\" That's what they say on every news article, like an ominous slogan. But really, everyone knows it's just one way in. Everyone down here is stuck here for life. \n\nI hold his gaze in what I hope passes for defiance, and swiftly nod to proceed forward. \n\nOur odd parade trots down the prison hall, seven in front, seven behind. It's nicer than one might expect a place called Hell to be, with painted walls and the occasional light fixture, but the iron bars belie the truth.\n\nSoon enough we stop and guide him into his new home. It's Spartan, with a bed and a latrine and little else. There is just one last motion to go through. Not long now, and I can escape those desperate eyes forever.\n\n\"Sit.\"\n\nHe jumps at the sound of my voice, but doesn't sit. I don't know if he's looking at me now. His eyes have turned me into a coward, holding tight to his chain, and staring at the floor of his concrete cell. Another guard gives him a firm push and he falls to the edge of the bed. \n\n\"Hands.\"\n\nA moment later the handcuffs fall away.\n\nThis is when I normally say, cocky as ever, \"Keep your hands, feet and arms inside the cell at all times, and we hope you enjoy your ride through Hell,\" but I can't bring myself to do that now. Not with those eyes seared into my retinas. I quickly back out of the cell, staring nowhere but his shoes. One of the other guards locks the grille. The others begin walking away, past the rows of cocky smiles that would love to spin your neck in circles. \n\nI allow my gaze to drift up one last time, and to my great relief he is staring away at some spot on the ground. Maybe the blood of the last occupant, perhaps a grease stain from decades ago. He slowly raises his head, as if taking in the tiny expanse that will now be his entire existence, and I see the last ounce of humanity drain from \nthose blue eyes.\n\nMistake number three.", "\"How long is it gonna the until we get there?\" I asked. We were in the elevator going down.\n\n\"Well,\" the guard said. There's quite a few prisoners. There's 5000 other guards. It's four miles down. We've got a few more minutes to go.\"\n\nI was wondering what it would be like down there. Yes, I've heard stories, but every guard has a chip in their brains. Whoever gives away major details about the prison dies. No one has ever made it out. There is one way out. It's time to get to know it. I'll be seeing it again soon.\n\nIn case you didn't know, my name is Brendan Icewave. I'm responsible for a lot of stuff. You name it, I've probably done it. Been on death row a few times. I've broken out of every prison I've been in. And trust me, I've been in some pretty bad ones.\n\nFinally the guard broke the silence. \"Look, Icewave. I've heard of you. I know you broke out of all prisons you've been in. Believe me, you're in for a suprise. You're never getting out of here.\"\n\nI studied the guard. He was wearing what looked like a standard uniform: a black shirt and blue pants, Black shoes, and a facemask. The facemask showed and covered his face at will. On his belt were a number of weapons. He also had a pouch. But what is it filled with? If I was ever getting out of here, I had to know.\n\nWith a soft ding, the door opened to reveal the prison. I first walked in to registration. \n\n\"Name?\" Said the man. I was silent. \"Name? He asked again.\n\n\"Brendanicewave\" I said under my breath.\n\n\"What was that?\"\n\nSilence.\n\n\"Tell me your name, goddammit.\"\n\n\"Brendan Icewave. I'm 5'10. 25. This is the 42^nd prison I've been in. Anything more you need to know?\"\n\nNext, I was stripped of all my clothing and given a standard prison jumpsuit. My knife was confiscated.\n\n\"Welcome to Facility V,\" the guard said. \"They call this place Hell for a reason.\"\n\nThe prison was large. It was cylindrical, with a large spiral staircase going around the end. On the edges, rooms were built with easy access to the stairs. On the bottom, not to far down, the stairs continued under a platform with tables, which I assumed were for eating.\n\nWe continued down the staircase, passed the tables, and down a long maze of hallways. I took note of our turns: left, left, right, left, right, right, right, left, right. That was hopefully going to help me later.\n\n\"Here we are. Cell 500. The worst of the worst. A guard will come at 7:00 a.m., 12 noon, and 7:00 p.m. to get bring you to your meals. You will be back here for the remainder of the day. Your cell mate's name is Oscar. You'll get along well.\"\n\nI was thrown in the cell and fell asleep.\n\n[] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] []\n\nA few weeks after I've been in the prison, I finally got a chance to see what Oscar did at night I saw a him fiddling with what looked like a laser.\n\n\"Oscar?\" I asked.\n\n\"That's me. What's up?\" Oscar said.\n\n\"Umm... What are you doing?\"\n\n\"These cells that they're holding us in. They're made of solid, unbreakable metal. I've tried busting out multiple times. This laser here almost broke the cell wall. Then they brought me down here, into the Hell Cell. I've tried everything. However, it's not a lock. It's a finger scanner. So simple, I know. But only a guard can scan his finger to get I'm or out. I'm thinking when the guard comes in to get us dinner, you go for his gun. Load it with stun bullets. Then-\"\n\n\"Stun bullet?\" I asked.\n\n\"Yes. It just doesn't kill the opponent. It merely just paralyzes him for a few hours, which gives us limited time. When we get out, I've got knock out gas I found a few months back. Then we're getting out of here.\" Oscar said, now sitting down away from the lock.\n\n\"No,\" I said. \"There's a vault even farther down than we are. That has everyone's loot from the past two hundred years. Plus, whoever brings a prisoner to the prison gets paid, and it all goes there. Plus, we can't just put the gas in the vents. We gotta get to the control room. There we can get the access codes for the elevator, and get out of here.\"\n\nAnd we did exactly just that. Guard walked in to bring us to dinner, Oscar distracted him and I pickpocketed his gun and shot him. Then we ran.\n\n[] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] [] []\n\nWe snuck down the maze, following the pattern of the hallways. Past the corner, we saw a guard. I shot him also, and we dragged his body out of sight.\n\nWe worked our way down. The control room was at the bottom. We cut the door open using the laser, and shot the guards. \n\n\"Ok Oscar. Have the knockout gas?\" I asked.\n\n\"Crap! I thought you had it.\"\n\n\"Well, there is a solution. Those guards have facemasks. If we get those, we blend in.\" I said\n\nWe went back to the cell, got the knockout gas, and put it in the vents. We got to the vault. We both made it out with $20,000. When we got to the elevator, I used one of the knocked out guard's fingerprint to open the elevator. We took off the facemasks.\n\n\"Wow. I can't belive we got out of the unescapable prison. I've busted out of a few before also. This makes four,\" Oscar said. \"You know, we make a good team. We should become a real team when we get out of here.\" The elevator dinged and opened. \"After you, he said. I walked in.\n\n\"A team, huh?\" I said. \"I work alone.\" The gun fired, and Oscar fell to the ground as the elevator door closed.\n\nEdit:\n\n#FORMATTING\n\nAlso story parts!", "He was the undisputed king. The lowest of the low. Someone who was so vile and repugnant he actually rose to power when thrown in the prison. Everyone was wrapped around his finger, and a prisoner couldn't even breathe if he didn't want them to. Tiger Kang didn't mind being locked up because he liked when the odds were stacked against him, and it was 500 against 5000. \n\nThe warden - once again - had thrown Kang into solitary, which for him was a small glass box on wheels with a few breathing holes in it. Sometimes he was stuck in an even smaller black room. Now he was in front of the Warden, cross-legged and every bit as intense as ever. \n\n\"No one would care one bit if you disappeared.\" The Warden threatened. His name was Warren Lighter, and he was the official King of Hell. \n\n\"I thought we were sent here just for that reason.\" Kang said. \n\n\"I've had to cut a dozen guards from staff. I'm running out of confinement boxes. I've had to use the Furnace twice since your arrival,\" Warren's eyes narrowed. \"You're a problem.\"\n\nThe Furnace was the name of the heating system in the facility. With the flick of a switch, Warren could, quite literally, turn the entire prison into a furnace. Staff and guard quarters were unaffected by the heating. It was the ultimate tool to subdue unruly inmates, or to punish them, or even for sick pleasure if he was that kind of man. \n\n\"Then make me disappear.\" Kang challenged. \n\nWarren's jaw locked. \"I don't know how you get in people's heads...\" \n\n\"It's a gift.\"\n\n\"But there are some people even you can't influence.\"\n\n\"Back in South Korea, before I was sent here, they used to have a saying about me. Do you know what it was?\" Kang asked. Warren held his expression. \"'He could even convince God of right and wrong if he talked to Him long enough.'\" \n\n\"Well I'm God down here.\" Warren growled. \n\nKang smiled wide. \"No. You're the Devil. And demons are much easier to tempt than angels.\" \n\n\"Get him the fuck out of here. And another month of solitary.\" Warren snarled. \n\n\"That'll make an official six months.\" Kang called as the two guards pushed the box out. \n\n\"Two months!\" Warren shouted, slammed his fist onto the desk. He knew he was slipping in control with that son of a bitch in his prison, but he couldn't, for the life of him, just kill him off. Guards he sent to do the deed always wound up dead. Warren knew Kang influenced the entire goddamn prison. He would have to call in outside help, but some of the most despicable people who would do the deed were in the prison, and no amount of money could make them go against Kang. He was untouchable, even to Warren. \n\nRubbing his temples, he reached for the phone. He knew of someone who might be able to do it. All lines from this end were secure. He punched in a number and leaned back in his chair, head pounding. \n\n\"Who is this?\" A voice answered. It was Russian.\n\n\"It's Warren Lighter.\" \n\n\"The King of Hell? What do you want?\" \n\nWarren took a deep breath. He didn't want to do this, but that son of a bitch Kang left him no choice. \"Get me Dmitri. I have a job for him.\"\n", "\"The first thing they told me was to keep hydrated. Down this far the heat becomes impossible to bear, the fact we have to wear the goddamn armor makes the job hell. The name fits doesn't it. \n\nHonestly I wondered why we did this, why not just kill the monsters and call it day? Well it gets complicated, y'know those stories we were told as children. The monsters that go bump in the night, the horror hiding in the shadows. They have to be based on something. When you commit atrocities on a scale that can only be described as inhuman, you become that. Those who are trapped here aren't human anymore, they are monsters in every possible way. They become immortal.\n\nThe heat weakens them y'know. They can't stand it for whatever reason, more so than us. We only sweat from it while they bleed. Makes it harder for them to escape obviously. So we stand watch over them, as they cry in agony. Eventually when they bleed enough something happens and they become human, then we can execute the bastard and for a brief while the prisoner count will decrease by one. It never takes long for another to surface and the hunters will live up to their name. \n\nKid, don't worry about this job. Yeah, I can see you quaking in your boots. Do what your told. Don't be an idiot. And don't talk to the prisoners.\" \n\nThe doors opened to the vast cavern and immense heat, and before we stepped off the warden finished his speech in his gravely voice. \"Welcome to Facility Five. Codename 'Hell'. Enjoy your stay\"" ]	5
	[WP] A group of scientists accidentally discover that all humans are infected with a never before seen parasite. Killing the parasites causes unexpected results.	[ "\"And this should just about... do it, yes!\" The miscroscopic laser scalpel deactivated, and the miniscule worm's central nervous system showed signs of shutting down. Of course, this was only visible because of extremely advanced medical equipment that had recently been invented.\n\nThe surgery was highly controversial, as some argued that the \"nerve worm\" as people had begun to call it was an organism that humans were potentially codependent upon. But in the name of unfaltering scientific progress, the specialist team under Doctor Rodenson at Mercy Hospital had undertaken this surgery for a special patient whose nerve worm had shown signs of interfering with the bloodflow in his brain. That was where the organism lived, of course, right in the center of the cerebellum of the brain.\n\nThe doctors filed out of the surgery room, while the patient was taken to recovery. They conversed over their excitement following the successful surgery and dispersed to other tasks.\n\nMeanwhile, something strange was happening with patient 0. He was wheeled into a intensive care recovery wing to be monitored closely following the controversial surgery. When he began to convulse, the nurses immediately notified the doctors involved in the surgery.\n\nMinutes later a team was assembled in the room, and patient 0 was sitting up in his bed. He gazed passively between the faces that were tensely staring at him, a soft smile on his face.\n\n\"No, doctors, I feel fine, really. Actually, better than fine... I can... I have complete control over myself. I can push my heart faster, if I want, or slow it down... I can feel vibrations coming from all of you. I can detect trace heat fluctuations... you are all experiencing heightened emotions.\"\n\nThe doctors were dumbfounded, and immediately began discussing the ramifications of what they were hearing. Doctor Rodenson stepped forward, a tall man with piercing grey eyes. \"Can we continue to observe you for some time? Your case potentially represents a massive scientific breakthrough for our entire species.\"\n\nPatient 0 frowned at this. \"No, I think I've still got my rights intact to leave as I please. Now that you understand this surgery is nonlethal, maybe someone else will let you study them. I seem to have abruptly realized that I could be doing a thousand things that will impact our species more positively than letting you study me.\"\n\nThe doctors tried to reason with the man, even tempted to call security, but the man insisted that they inspect his vitals and allow him to leave if he would be permitted.\n\nHours later, a small team of FBI agents arrived in the hospital and patient 0 was never seen again.\n\n\n\n\n// Sorry to cut it short but it was just taking too long and I've got a short story to work on :)", "As soon as it happened, Dr. Ravi stared into the one-way mirror with his eyes wide open and his mouth agape. He stepped back a few steps; his heart screamed with fear and disbelief, but his mind felt amazement and admiration for his own work. The experiment was successful, the subject was…most likely alive. But the results defied all of his and his team’s most outrageous expectations. As soon as his bewilderment subsided, Dr. Ravi dashed towards the PA system terminal in the high-clearance area and nervously switched it on:\n\n“All personnel involved in the Charles H experiment, report to Lab 2-A immediately. I repeat, Charles H experiment, please report to 2-A immediately.”\n\nThe 54-year-old doctor had never seen anything like this in his long and prestigious career. Starting as the youngest son of a poor cobbler in India, Dr. Ravi proved that low social status and extreme poverty were an obstacle that could be easily overcome with resolute determination and unwavering willpower. He was a hard-working night-owl and a loner. In the field of research, these were excellent qualities to obtain, as any casual conversation the local PR guy, some supervisor or even the janitor cost valuable time and concentration. Hence, he’d thrive the most when everyone else was fast asleep. While needing the brains of many brilliant scientists from different fields, Project Free H didn’t require Dr. Ravi to seriously interact with any of them; most of his work could be done alone. But this? Dr. Ravi wanted everyone to see it. The results had to be shared with the entire scientific community, maybe even the world.\n\nThe other scientists started filling the fluorescent-lit room. Its solid steel grey walls, minimalistic white furniture and abundance of industrial-rate machines made it look lifeless, and an unlikely birthplace for what seemed to be an entirely new species. One that never existed before, but which at the same time has always been there. \n\n“I present to you: the first human with an excised Charleston parasite…subject 34! But he is human no more. He’s become…a homomirandus” Dr. Ravi clamoured with pride gleaming from his eyes as his fellow scientists glared at the subject with utter wonderment. \n\nDr. Ravi was right not to call him human anymore. There was no way he could be classified as a homo sapiens anymore. What Dr. Ravi’s team laid eyes on was far different. Far, far different. \n\nThe experiment was still under sedatives, lying down on the hospital bed it’s been in since the Charleston parasite removal procedure. Whilst he retained a humanoid shape, subject 34 seemed to have lost all traces of fat, muscle or meat tissue from his body; only an outline of his skeleton hidden under a layer of skin. The skin wasn’t so tight as to reveal the bone structure, and it only made him only bearable enough to look at. Indeed, with this recent transformation, subject 34’s body lay deep in the uncanny valley, and would probably terrify any layman that happened to come his way. His head also shrunk in size, seemingly to allow him to lift it with his new scrawny body. But was it really scrawny? Could he still move? Speak? Did the reduced head-size also imply a smaller brain and impeded brain power?\n\nLost in his thoughts, already relishing the fame and prestige he expected to receive, Dr. Ravi barely noticed when the experiment started moving; only the indistinct chatter of the team growing louder. However, it wasn’t long until he was sent back to reality; a wild crash and a torrent shattered glass startled him, and the next thing he saw was subject 34 sprinting out of the room with only his patient gown covering him, but couldn’t perceive a single scratch on his body. He looked down and not a drop of blood was shed; his teammates were on the floor, stunned as if shellshocked, but they all looked unharmed. He turned his head towards the now-empty experiment chamber, and noticed some letters were seared into the wall. He walked forward for closer inspection and climbed up the broken window frame, ignoring the shards of broken glass that tore up his lab coat and skin indistinctively until he was close enough to read the inscription.\n\n“Humans lack reality. Freedom will come.” \n" ]	2
	[WP] The Grim Reaper is put on trial for his hand in the death of 100+ billion humans	[ "\"100 billion deaths. Really? Your record keeping is inept as always.\" Then it chuckled, as it sat back in the chair. The form of this being was a mass of clouds that took on a shape of a being and its position now: a being that could care less as it sat back, one leg hanging over the arm rest another propped on the back rest. It even looked like it was attempting to pick its nose? If it even has a nose. The judge beside it slammed a golden gravel down before speaking sternly \"Death. You will show respect in my court!\" Death only chuckled as the judged looked upon it with fiery eyes. the face hidden behind flowing white locks of hair and a very, very long white beard. \nA woman appeared before Death, her eyes blindfolded, her crimson locks tied back in a neat bun, while her porcelain hued skin seemed to blend in the equally white toga. She spoke with a soft but equally stern voice \"Death, we are all judged for what we do. Even you though your station is the end all of everything. Normal operations we wouldn't even be here, but you acted out of the natural order of things.\" \nDeath gave an exaggerated yawn and stood up as it moved off the stand and approached the jury. The jurors in this case were a mixture of fellow deities and forces that controlled various aspects of the world. Death leaned over the railing of the box and the its head took on a form of a skull as it spoke \"If you rule in favor of whatever brought this suit. I will make sure to visit each one of you and let you feel my icy touch. I swear it.\" \nThe Judge slammed his foot down and stood up exclaiming \"That's it! You're done death!\" The Judge picked up the golden gavel and through it at Death. Before it could turn around the gavel pierced the cloud mass and emitted thundering explosions of lightening. Death gave a super natural scream as the bolts of lightening attacked its senses. After a couple of more seconds Death sunk to the floor silent as the Judge stood over the shocked and silent room. He proclaimed \"This trial is over. The punishment is that Death will be separated from its faculties and returned to the primordial beast! The office of \"Death\" will now be exempt from elections and appointments. It will take eons for all departments to route those souls to their proper final destinations. Hence forth a new holding area called \"Limbo\" shall be created in order to process these victims while continuing on with standard operations.\" \n\n- That is how Limbo came into existence, and why so many souls are still there. ", "\"The question at hand here isn't one of guilt,\" spoke the defense. \"It's not one of morality, it's not one of conscience, it's one of facts. The defendant has killed, and he will do so again if acquitted. His guilt is a fact and on that there should be no doubt. What matters or not, is whether he is above the law of those such of ourselves. We do not chain a lion for the death of a gazelle, we do not kill a dog for the death of a rabbit, we don't even blame these animals for these actions. But, you might say, they are just that, animals, in them there is no ability of rational thought, they cannot be blamed for following their nature! Yet, even we, who we like to think above such primitive things, condone other humans in their act of murder! In fact, we expect it, we put people in positions of power and we expect them to kill others, even if only to make us sleep a little easier at night. We put the decision into hands of men we think greater than ourselves, men we put above the law. We expect that they do the acts we cannot, that we would never even consider doing, things that we believe atrocious, so that we may continue to do so. That we can exist in a society such as we do. \n\n\"Sometimes we even glorify them for it! We record them in history and worship their actions, those of Napoleon and Alexander the Great. We look to these men who kill and view them as the perfect leader. They are above our morals and our laws. They create the law as they see fit for themselves so that we may live a better life. Sometimes we even pretend to be shocked, repelled, angered by their actions. We protest but only in the very rarest of cases to we actually act. This is because we know they are necessary, we know that our laws, our little ideas of what should and should not be, do not apply to them. For us to act against them would be no different than a tree acting against its gardener. They are above us.\n\n\"And it is not only by democracy that we allow, or rather, that we accept these people. Sometimes it is by violence, by biological position, or by our own indifference. Yet, we still accept these people as above us, people we have no choice in, we allow to live above our own law! Such a position is the position of which my client exists in. Even he, himself, did not choose to be put into this position but yet he accepted it just as we did. He acted as necessary and we accepted that just as we accept the actions of our own leaders. He is above our law and thus above any decision this court makes. The simple fact is that whatever the jury decides does not matter because even if my client is chained, executed, locked away, the natural order rules that another will simply replace him. This is an order we not only accept in nature, our own society, and the rest of the universe but one that rely on in order to pretend that we are noble, rational men. The existence of those we put above the law will never cease and to try and change it is the same as hoping to live for now on without food or water. It is simple idiocy, delusion, a position of psychosis!\"", " \"ORDER GOD DAMNIT, I WILL SEE ORDER!\" The judge screamed over the yelling of those in the courtroom. Why was he chosen for this god forsaken case. \n\n How could they even catch death, he wondered. Judge Zachary wiped his forehead, he was very good at hiding his fear and nervousness but not today. This wasn't in the United States jurisdiction, it was in the UN's. World leaders arguing, goddamn politics.\n\n Judge Zachary cleared his throat after the noise died down, he stared at death. Death had no certain form, however he liked how we depicted him, as a dean man in a robe, holding a scythe. He changed his robe from tattered grey to orange. How appropriate.\n\n \" Death, what is your opinion of the crimes set against you, and do you think they are true?\" \n\n Death looked up, well, his hood did, there was nothing under his hood, just a deep, darkness that chilled all those who looked at him. \n\n \"They are fair, but they must continue.\" \n\n His voice was a deep, low, echoing voice, it was composed of the billions of voices of those he killed.\n\n \"You must pay for your crimes, Death, no exceptions\"\n\n \"You do not unde-\"\n \n He was cut off by a reporter, who pulled a gun out of his camera, cleverly hidden, and then he rushed death. \n\n \"THIS IS FOR MY WIFE AND KIDS YOU FUCK!\"\n\n He fired his mag, but to no visible reaction by death. \n\n No one moved, not even the guards, everyone just watched Death for his reaction. Death slowly rose, and walked to the man, who backed up in fear. \n\n \"NO PLEASE, NO\"\n\n The scythe moved near his throat, ready to pierce\n\n \"I'm sorry, Ryan, But everything is planned, who I let die, and why. And I must go continue my work, goodbye, Ryan\"\n\n And then Death pulled his Scythe back, and swung it towards Ryan, ready to kill, while he laughed manically, the disappeared just before killing Ryan.\n\n \"Court......... Is adjourned.\"\n\n \n ", "\"Death?, what is this death you speak of?\"\n\n\"What do you mean sir, you are the Grim Reaper right?\"\n\n\"That is what you call me, though i have many names.\"\n\n\"Well you were named as such because you seemed to have something to do with the dieing process, legends claim you bring the souls to the afterlife.\"\n\n\"I do.\"\n\n\"Could you state for the record your exact purpose?\"\n\n\"This will take some explaining.\n\nWhen beings from beyond our plane invaded the Garden of Eden we were forced to expel all souls to stop them from being consumed of destroyed by accident as god unleashed his wrath.\n\nWhile we eventually won the war it was at a cost, god was forced to hold the breach closed from outside our plane, and Eden was in ruins, me and only a few other beings escaped relatively unharmed.\n\nWe have spend eons rebuilding Eden for the day we could repopulate it again, but when we opened portals to here we were horrified to find souls had ceased their timeless existence for vessels of flesh, luckily we were able to separate you in time before your forms became permanent and your souls became stuck in this plane. \n\nNow while we would have liked to bring everyone over at ones, the portals we can used are limited now that god is occupied. \n\nMe I'm the one doing the soul collecting, i go to any point where the bond between flesh and soul loosens and break you out, most of the time i wait for you to loosen it yourself, but when a large portal is possible i have been known to help things on its way. \n\n\"Help on its way how?\"\n\n\"Nudge an asteroid here, modify a disease there, hell i even tried telling people, Aztec's were quite helpful in that regard, but i found limiting my presence tends to be for the best, both because people mistake me for god and because killing to many slows down the process in the long run.\"", "The Reaper was put on the stand to make a final case for before his verdict, he stood up from his table and walked to the booth. He viewed the jury, he had quite a task set out for him.\n\n\"Mr. Grim, are you prepared to swear your oaths?\" The judge asked.\n\n\"Of course,\" he stated as he put his hand on the Bible set in front of him.\"I promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.\"\n\n\"Alright, you may begin your testimony.\" The judge allowed.\n\n\"People of the jury, I fear that you don't really understand me.\" The Reaper stated as he paced across the floor,\"You have all been lead to believe that I am the one who kills, that I am the most prolific killer in history, the being responsible for every death that's ever happened. From your childhood dog, to Abraham Lincoln. But that's not true. I don't kill, I only welcome the dead.\"\n\nThe Grim Reaper took a pause for a few moments for his last sentence to sink in, the courtroom was silent and everyone stared at the hooded figure standing before them.\n\n\"You see, when people die, they just die. Whether it be from heart disease or car accidents. They die, and I introduce them to the afterlife. I guide them across the river, and I make sure that they are okay. I am not the devil, I am a tour guide. Your loved ones have all met me, and they've all been helped by me, I let their loved ones know things that they never could.\"\n\nThe crowd was beginning to whisper with disbelief, eyebrows knit and scowls forming.\n\n\"You've all been taught by the media and novels that I AM death, but in reality I am only a result of death. You over there,\" He said as he pointed to Juror #5,\"Your brother Tom, he died from cancer 13 years ago, I met him, and he told me to tell you that he forgave you for Christmas '97, you remember that don't you? That dream two weeks after he died, when he came to you and told you that he was okay? I helped him do that.\"\n\nJuror #5 blinked in confusion and whisper under her breath, \"Oh, my god.\" She relaxed against the back of her chair as if a weight had been lifted.\n\n\"In conclusion,\" The Reaper proclaimed, \"I do not cause the ones that you love to die, but I make sure that they do not die with unfinished business.\" \n\nThe courthouse was completely silent, no one said a word as the Reaper sat back down. The judge called the jury for deliberation, and they retired to the jury room to decide his fate.\n", "The Grim Reaper was using his scythe to pick his nails as the jury, sat quivering in their seats. In fact, everyone except the General Attorney was shivering with some form of cold, unfound fear of the hooded figure. pick pick pick, as his nicked off a bit of dirt under his nails. It was odd really, literally having no flesh, and only bone, but also having nails.\n\n\nI suppose he had to bide his time as well. \n\n\nEveryone rose as Judge Hawken walked in. He looked at Death with an odd glance, almost ashamed to look. \"Please be seated.\" \n\n\nHe was an elderly man, but no sign of deterioration came with it. He had a powerful, deep and almost luxurious voice as he commanded the Grim Reaper to rise.\n\n\n\"Grim Reaper. We have historically have allowed the persecuted an attempt to defend one's self in allowing them to be capture and hold themselves above their crimes. Today, we cannot afford that luxury. In addition, because you pledge no allegiance to any state, nation or race, we will not hold you to the truth. We merely hope that the words you say today will ring true for us tomorrow.\"\n\n\nHe pushed up his glasses. Grim put down the scythe and stood, six feet tall of bone. He looked at the judge.\n\n\"Your time of reckoning has come. There is no trial today, but merely the death of Alan J. Hawken, Judge of mankind and fighter against injustice. I am sorry to deceive you in such a manner. I have come to collect your life today.\"\n\n\nSilence. Then a single shout. \"Murderer!\"\n\n\nAnd when the last snowflake falls, the avalanche begins. The yelling, shouting and incessant vulgarities that were thrown at him were endless, unstoppable. Grim simply stared at the crowd for a moment before he picked up his scythe, and hit it against the floor.\n\n\nA deadly silence and cold echoed the building. People grew white as the scythe ran red with blood, dripping thick, viscous drops. His gaze returned to the judge.\n\n\n\"Alan J. Hawken.\" His name. That was all. The indicator of the individual, the dying. \n\n\nIt was true though. Judge Hawken had been suffering from a pain on the left side of his brain. Little did he know, it was a sign that an aneurysm was inbound.\n\n\nHis final look only reflected the sorrow of a gatekeeper. \"Collect.\"\n\n\nAnd that was it. There was no trial that day, only the sad end to an incomplete story. Grim was never seen after that moment.\n\n\nSome say that it was because the Judge has sinned, or that it was a hoax. The simple and short of it was, the Grim Reaper needed a replacement. All that begins must end, including the ferryman, the gatekeeper, the Grim Reaper. \n\n\nAnd so it was, Alan J. Hawken died, but was born anew, as the Grim Reaper.\n\n\nHe had become Death, unto the world.", "The Reaper had been convicted on all counts. He was facing a minimum mandatory sentence of 400 years. The jury looked around the court room with satisfied smirks on all of their faces. \n\nThis marked the end of humanity. For without death there could be no rebirth. Before long the world was littered with mounds of ancient peoples too old and decrepit to function, their minds rotted with time. All the while the Reaper silently laughed from his confinement. ", "“Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?” \n\n“The truth is all I do,” Grimm Reaper replies.\n\n“A simple yes or no answer will suffice, Mr. Reaper.” The judge interjects.\n\n“Then, yes.”\n\n“Council, your witness.”\n\n“Mr. Reaper, can you explain your involvement with the deaths of…everyone?” the lawyer asks.\n\n“You see, it’s quite simple really. You probably learned it in kindergarten. You can’t have a top without a bottom, a left without a right, an up without a down and a beginning without an end. There would not be life if I weren’t around.\n\nFor it is because of me that you have experienced every smile and every tear. I am the reason you have the ability to stand there and question me today.”\n\n“Why do cause such hurt?” the lawyer asks.\n\n“Have you not heard what I said? How would you know pain and sorrow, if you didn’t first know pleasure, and joy?” Grim Reaper responds.\n\n“I’ll ask the questions here. Why have you killed so many?”\n\n“By providing an expiration date, I give your life meaning. Time would be squandered if it weren’t for the limited moments you have here.”\n\nAnd at that moment, because the author has no idea where the story should go, Grim fades away.", "How do you capture a primordial force of the cosmos? The short answer is, you don't.\n\nThe long answer is much the same. \n\nYou see, Death was never an integral function. We were meant to live forever, reaching near and far across the breadth of all we could dare to imagine, growing in wit to match our age. But we were not the first. The oldest felt our presence to be a challenge to their status quo, and being far more cunning, far more wise, and far more cruel in nature, the Grim Reaper set forth on a genocide against the human race.\n\nAnd so we faltered. We aged beneath those hollow eyes, withered before the ever-present stalker in our shadows, and died as the chains of mortality were tethered around our necks.\n\nBut the Reaper was patient, and that was their undoing. Cruelty and longing intermingled, such that our ends were invariably horrible, anguishing, worthy of song and legend that we would remember them by.\n\nWe, too, learned patience, amidst all of the atrocities subtly acquired. It was part of our original function. We could grow. \n\nAnd we did.\n\nThough it took untold centuries, a plethora of millennium, we, on the whole, as a collective species, developed the wherewithal and the insight to match the Grim Reaper, and in so doing snapped the yoke with which we had been manipulated.\n\nSo how do you capture a primordial force of the cosmos? You figure out that it's just another lie told by another, older being. We captured Death in a figurative bottle and then in a literal parse in time, and held then a trial for the wanton acts committed against our own species.\n\nIt was, though swift, just, and satisfying, not an unfair judgment. We let Death speak. We learned all of the missing why's, the greatest of which, now inscribed upon Death's own headstone as epitaph, is still the most sickening.\n\n\"Because I could.\"" ]	9
	[WP]Make me hate Harry Potter and support He Who Shall Not Be Named	[ "First, there was nothing but pain, blinding, searing pain.\nThen came the darkness - and with it an agony so terrible it seemed to tear at his very soul. All time was lost, and all that could be remembered was a green flash of light, and before it, someone who had been - but was no longer. Weak, powerless, feeble. \nThe boy lived.. the man was torn asunder.\n", "Hush they all said, and they didn’t come close to helping as the world fell apart in front of them time and time again - they vanished with a clap out of the trenches in the teens, they built their shields strong against the bombs and radar in the forties, they stayed off the grid as the world grew dependent on and violent over depletable fuel. \n\nThey were content living our their lives in a strange utopia, where the worst illness imaginable was a skilled healer’s wand away from a cure, and the rest of the world suffered and died around them, completely oblivious to the solution to every single problem there ever had been. \n\nThe man Riddle did not know this. He did not have a noble, heroic cause. He was a greedy man born into the richest caste in the world who still craved more, and he fought and stole and killed to get it. \n\nHe also brought the majority of the world closer than it ever has been to cures - for disease, for violence, for scarcity - and, just as the magical community was about to reach out to the Others for help, to expose just how much potential the world really held to those whose eyes were blinded by war and famine and plague, just then the man Potter stopped it all. Just then he grabbed the door and violently slammed it shut, and those Others never knew what they had missed. \n\nIn Amsterdam there lived a woman, bright and quick and capable, who would have seen a wizarding exhibition one day as a child, there in the post-Riddle, post-Potter, post-Divide world. She would join her colleagues at the university later in life and become the world’s foremost authority on harnessing magical energy for mundane use - transportation, food, energy, water. She would have been more widely revered than Salk and led the new cultural revolutions. \n\nThe world would have kept fighting no matter what, wouldn’t it? You can’t change human nature. You can’t create a utopia like this - can you? \n\nThe one evil thing about the man Potter is that he decided the answer for you, and never even gave you a chance to hear the question.\n" ]	2
	[WP] Tomorrow is Sunday	[ "I'm trying to write my story, a history of my living, but all the words come out wrong. Blood is on my fingertips; I can't evade its presence. I mean, I guess- I was a little rude to a few sad kids yesterday, but really its all their fault. Really it could have just been anyone. Cause you see the real problem- the real problem is:\n\nYou like new experiences, and to hike, and read, and meet new people! Or, you like to read sci-fi, surf the web and watch anime of which I have never heard. Well so do fucking I. And the worst part is- you think you fucking chose that. You think one day you woke up with the novel idea you would waste your life chasing trivialities because that's just the way you are. What a brand new solution to the world's oldest problem! Way to go and good on you! But I guess since we all have free will, your happiness is just as valid as mine is. Like what we say really matters. We're tear drops in an avalanche that the cosmos will never guess existed. We are motes of dust clinging to the idea of significance. But I chose this life the same way butterflies decide where they die. \n\nI spend all day smelling roses in the vain attempt it'll wash away the nausea of seeing someone like me smile. \n\nSo what if I chase my own pleasure in other people's shame? And so what if some kids can't figure out if they're boys or girls or-. \n\nWe are lost in a sea of not our making, given rules arbitrary, provided tools no one needs. We complain because its hard and too fucking dumb to figure out something better. So yeah, I called them faggots a few times. Is it my problem the chaos of the universe orchestrated a life where my Uncle fucked me and my Dad threw spit in my face if I brought home something lower than an A? So what if their funeral has three hundred souls attending? Its not like I'm jealous! It's not like I just want love too. From someone I would call a faggot.", "Thursday 4:29 PM\n\nToday is the day i've been waiting 5 months for. The day I get to test my company's new product, the home AI.\n\n I drive towards the house, I see my coworker, Michael, standing at the door, waiting. We shake hands.\n\n\"Well, this is it\" he says, gesturing towards the house. Beautiful, sleek, modern and made entirely of metal and glass.\n\n\"It's very...\"\n\n\"Large?\" he finishes.\n\n\"Yeah...\" I reply.\n\n\"Oh! Almost forgot, here's your access card, two spares, and the Slate.\"\n\n\"The what?\"\n\n\"Control panel for the AI, as well as a bug report system. This is a test remember.\"\n\n\"Oh, yeah.\"\n\n\"Good luck man, test ends on Sunday.\"\n\n------------------\n\nUpon opening the door I'm greeted by the lights of the house coming to life.\n\nHello! My name is Athena!\n\nStartled by the sudden voice, I stumble to the floor.\n\nOhmygosh did I scare you? Asks a worried yet bubbly female voice.\n\n\"Are you the house AI?\" I ask.\n\nYup! But seriously are you OK?\n\n\"Yes, I'm fine, but please don't do that again.\"\n\nCan do!\n\nThis is gonna be a long three days.\n\n-----------------\n\nWill defintely continue tomorrow, but for now, I must slumber." ]	2
	[WP] A day in the life of someone who lives in the cursed black and white world of infomercials where everything goes wrong all of the time.	[ "I awake with a jump, glancing over at my alarm clock to see how late I'm running since that alarm I set never went off. Heaving a heavy sigh, I sit up and attempt to get out of bed, becoming tangled in the sheets and falling to the floor crumpled up in the ball of bed spread. I untangle myself, wrenching my limbs from the Cthulu of linens wrapped around my legs. First stop, bathroom. Stumbling over the threshold into the bathroom, I find the puddle left by my wife after her shower and slip instantly, knocking my head on the rim of the tub. \n\nWincing from the pain, I manage to get back up, dropping my drawers to take a quick piss in the toilet. When I finally managed to distract myself from the throbbing in the back of my head enough to pee, the stream came out broken, spraying in all directions. I manage to quell the spray and gain control of the liquid when the toilet seat slams shut, coating myself as well as the floor in the foul-smelling waste.\n\nAnnoyed at my bathroom, I wash my hands, cursing as the soap dispenser slips out of my hands and lands in the trash. I dry my hands on the towel, fresh from the laundry but already smelling of mildew. Done with this drenched, and now foul smelling room, I wander to the kitchen to prepare my breakfast and lunch for the day. Opening the fridge, I find my leftovers from the night before leaking onto the shelves, coating my food in thai-curry sauce. Starting with breakfast, I begin to pull food out of the fridge. The bacon frees itself without issue, but the carton of eggs slips from my hands, breaking three eggs and sending the rest sprawling around my kitchen floor. My ninja reflexes that I used trying to catch the falling carton knocked the rest of my breakfast food onto the floor, including the gallon of milk which explodes on impact.\n\nI regroup the breakfast food, placing a pan on the stove for the eggs. After rinsing the milk off the eggs, I crack the remaining few into a bowl, missing with one, demolishing the shell of another into the mix, and having the last egg be partially-developed, I give up on breakfast and switch to making lunch. I open the cabinet to a shower of tupperware and dishes...", "7am, the alarm clock goes off. Instead of an alien shaped alarm clock where the head pops off and you have to go looking for it, I’m left to suffer through my normal routine of hitting the snooze button. But I can’t today. There are too many things I need to take care of. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fBtnXkOGMi8\n\nAs I turn my clock off, I clap my hands to turn my lights on, but nothing happens. I clap again. Nothing. My worst fears have come true; I have to turn my lights on by actually having to touch the lamp. How pedestrian. \nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ny8-G8EoWOw\n\nAs I head towards the restroom to relieve myself from my night of slumber, I sit on the commode and to my great dismay; there is no comfort gel toilet cushion. No soft, pliable plastic for my cheeks to rest on. Instead, I’m left with a hard, coarse plastic. No human should have to suffer the way I am. But I take care of business as quickly as possible, not wanting to prolong the discomfort below any longer.\nhttp://www.asseenontv.com/comfort-gel-toilet-cushion/detail.php?p=506060&v=household_bed-and-bath&pagemax=all\n\nAs I wash my hands, I debate on taking a shower first or having my morning coffee. A yawn escapes my mouth. Coffee it is. I head to my cabinet and to my dismay; my K-cups are not located in a carousel like they should be. Instead, I have to open my drawer to retrieve my caffeine capsule. No ability to spin my choices around, I have to settle with just looking before I find a suitable candidate for this already rough morning. \nhttp://www.asseenontv.com/detail.php?p=510277&SESSID=2cc991dfffef4279dd7c15cff6f71175\n\nThere is not enough room on my kitchen counter, so I have to lift what feels like two tons worth of metal and plastic and place it on a suitable space near an outlet. If only there was a way that I could easily slide my coffee maker to and fro instead of having to lift with my delicate hands like some heathen. Why isn’t there an easier way than lifting an appliance and placing it where it needs to go? Why have you forsaken me god? Why?\nhttp://www.asseenontv.com/sliding-kitchen-caddy/detail.php?p=488709&v=kitchen\n\nI finish my coffee and realize I’ve spent too long bumbling about with my morning routine. I need to get ready, and fast. I shower, get dressed and realize I almost forgot to floss and brush my teeth. Unfortunately, there is no quick way to floss my teeth. One minute in the bathroom is far too much valuable time being wasted when I could be on the road already. If only there was a portable and ready to go anywhere flossing mechanism that I could use in the car. I wouldn’t need the two hands required to pluck the lodged food from my teeth. I could hold the steering wheel in one and floss with the other. It makes such perfect sense. But again, god must hate me for there exists no product that I have described. \nhttp://www.asseenontv.com/power-floss/detail.php?p=854924&v=health-and-beauty\n\nAs I head out the door, I’m surprised I was able to make it out on time at all. If this is how I must live my life every day, I don’t know how much more I can take. We’ve advanced so much as a society, yet there are no suitable solutions to my morning woes. Hopefully my drive is a little more successful, and a little more civilized. One can hope, at least. \n", "He was coming closer. His footsteps echoed in the dark hallway outside of my room. I wished desperately that he would be satisfied with the brutal murder of my friends, but he followed me too.\n\nHe stopped outside of the door I was behind.\n\nOh god, please no. Not like this\n\nI was shaking, muffled sobs being silenced by my hands.\n\nBilly Mays bursts through the door\n\n\"BUT WAIT THERES MORE\"", "\"I'm done, Charlie. I can't live like this anymore,\" she sobs, \"Either you get your shit together or we're over.\"\n\n\"Carol, wait,\" I step toward her, but trip hard and crumple to the floor. If only I had the AntiStumble shoe attachments, then I could live a life of stable and trip-free walking...\n\n\"Goodbye, Charlie,\" and she leaves my life forever with the resounding click of the door being locked.\n\n\"Goddamnit,\" I clutch my face and weep, \"Goddamnit...\"\n\nI reach for a Kleenex, but its touch evades me and the entire box spills around me, the cost of not buying Tear-Away Tissue Grips, an easy and mistake-free way to grab Kleenexes.\n\n\"GODDAMNIT!\" and I cry alone there, amidst the soft, tissue-littered ground, hoping it will all end...\n\nThis is my hell.\n\n" ]	4
Feel free to do whatever with the human's decisions, enslave everyone, colonize, disaster relief, etc. I look forward to your posts!	[WP] Humanity is not alone in the universe, but they are "Late to the party", arriving at the waning end of an intergalactic war leaving the galaxy in ruins.	[ "Captain Grear watched the reports streaming in from the probes with a defeated look. Another dead planet. Humanity had finally broken free of the solar system and now looked for new worlds to colonize but all they could find were dead ones. The worlds scarred by large craters, presumed to be from anti-matter warheads. Not satisfied with merely destroying the surface, the worlds were also 'salted'. Self-replicating nanites were roaming the surface and oceans looking for anything biological to disassemble. Whoever had fought here did not do so to gain more territory, this a result for a war for survival. It might have even been a MAD situation, where two civilizations eradicated each other. The end result being that all the planets in the habitable zones within 100 light-years of earth were inhospitable.\n\nCaptain Grear turned to the helmsman, \"Let's head to the jump point, maybe we'll get lucky in the next one.\" He prepared a quick drone to return the results from this planet to earth. It would be a few days to make it to the jump point. Any excitement of jumping into a new system as now be eroded by the last 17 months of exploring dead system. The morale of the crew was dropping fast and they still had 7 months left in their current deployment. Many wanted to turn back now than explore even more dead systems.\n\nAs the ship approached the jump point, there was some excitement on the bridge, this next system was special since it would open up multiple possible jump branches. So far there were only dead ends from the jump points leading from earth. From the next point there should be connections to the rest of the galaxy and hopefully some viable worlds. The jump drives spooled up and took the ship in a instantaneous moment 36 light-years away.\n\n\"Contact! Contact!\" The helmsman yelled as the ship sensors populated the screen with the activity around the jump point. Surrounding the jump point were six massive battlestations each massing many times all the ships of earth combined. Before the crew could even comprehend what they were seeing, the ship was destroyed with enough energy that it was broken into it's basic elements.\n\nThe AI aboard the command station entered into the log the ship that was destroyed. It had been over 22,000 years since one had jumped through. Automated system started checks to ensure the battlestation was operating at optimal efficiency. The system then went back into its stand-by mode and its watch over the jump point to ensure that the galaxy would be protected against anything that tried to come through.", "First Officer Gambit of the Maell Homeplanet Defense was safe, for now. His MHD escape craft was cruising at .5 light while he figured out where he was and what was broken. Readouts were coming in from the computer that power was low, so he expected a jump capacitor breach. Asking for location while he launched a remote drone to survey damage, he piloted the small camera around the ship and counted tears while marking them down.\n\nThe computer pulled up a map on another screen and showed how the escape jump had placed him between an uninitiated solar system and it's Oort cloud. So, not only was he was safe on a whole 'nother arm of the galaxy but he was nestled on the edge of a natural communications barrier. Bringing the drone back in, he started matching the damage he found with the self-reported damage. He did have a busted jump cap. Without the extra capacitance his ship couldn't hold enough energy to make a jump. All the other damage was cosmetic or taken care of by the craft's symetrical redundancy. It might be a long flight to endure, but he was well within life support range of the nearest unaffiliated outpost.\n\nReclining the chair in his windowless liferaft, Gambit knew he needed sleep and let the ship autopilot to avoid rogue debris. He would decide what to do when he woke up... If he ever fell asleep.\n\nWhen he closed his eyes, the day replayed. All his mistakes and all the lives lost. True to his name, he made a risky bet with death to save what was left of the ship Treasure by taking the last escape craft just before fusion-destruct. He hoped the engineers that sacrificed themselves to run the procedure died quickly. Now he was being stupid. Of course they did. He should really be worrying about all his shipmates and friends who had jumped to Maell.\n\nWhy couldn't he sleep?\n\nThe computer beeped an alarm and raised the chair back to upright automatically. Gambit was looking at a scan of an incoming craft. Small. Very small. He hoped he didn't have the bad luck to be in the path of an enemy probe or under attack from an interspace torpedo. Another scan came in, relaxing the tired alien. He breathed a sigh of relief through the mesh on his suit. It was just debris. Another scan came in and Gambit realised it wasn't even that. It was basically a relic of pre-space Maell design. No. Looking at another screen he saw the vector. He was witness to the system breaking out.\n\n\"COMPUTER, INTERCEPT WITH EMP!\" Gambit hollered in the thick air, buckling himself back into the chair as fast as he could. The computer screens came up with trajectories and data. \"RELEASE AUTHORIZED!\" His buckle clicked and the ship spun around to face the near-derelict, emptying his remaining jump caps into a pellet of nanostructured design which launched over and zapped the emergent technology. Gambit watched on the screen and waited. It didn't matter if he ran, the signal was killed before it got out or after. There was also the question of whether or not this system was still being watched or if the radio telescope had been destroyed in the ongoing war.\n\nGambit held his breath while his jump caps slowly refilled, useless. He brought a clawed hand up to massage the top of his head.\n\nThree minutes passed before he decided to inspect the dead craft.", "Though there were many opinions, we mostly agreed that the alien civilizations would be utterly incomprehensible. We thought a species advanced enough to break the speed of light would be advanced in every way. Godlike beings of incomprehensible prosperity, shepherding the Universe with fearless altruism or painlessly euthanizing undesirable competitors.\n\nNone of us can say for certain when the first signal was heard, but by the turn of the 22nd century the chatter was ubiquitous enough to interfere with our own signals. We felt like we were witnessing the birth of a Galactic Civilization. Nobody really noticed when the signals started to decline.\n\nHalf a decade later, after the successful test of the first FTL drive, we steeled ourselves to enter the Great Galactic community we had so fondly listened to. We spun tales of immortal beings of unparallelled wisdom, of a hierarchy that had managed to survive its petty planetary phase and loft itself, as one, to the stars.\n\nWe weren't shocked by how different they were. Not after we saw the mined and depleted husks of once-vibrant ecologies. Not after we saw the false alliances that stabbed their friends as deeply as their enemies. Not after we saw the burned shells of worlds whose God had offended the God of a bomb-maker. Not after we saw the little slaves herded and gassed in a scene that evoked too many memories.\n\nThat was how the Golden Age started. We left the stars to their own devices. We didn't care any more, because we were better than them. We returned the Earth to a verdant garden which rivaled the Eden of myth. We cast away war and made incredible weapons of peace. We took the planets and moons that our mother star had given us and made our own utopia. We built all this, I think, to prove something to ourselves.\n\nBecause the aliens were not incomprehensibly great or terrible. They were, for most of us, simply too human.", "\"First Prefect, report.\" \n\nPrefect Zorg stood before the United Council of Planets, a rather boring group of individuals whose sole duty was relegated to making small problems bigger problems. No but seriously, nothing good ever came out of these meetings. \n\nZorg proceeded to the foot of the dais, his papers making those annoying little crinkly noises in the slight breeze. It was hot, Zorg decided, for a council meeting chamber. Why was it so hot? He stepped up to the microphone, and glanced to a technical table, where a bored engineer looking boringly at him to begin talking. \n\n\"Ahem.\" It was unnecessary to clear his throat, but Zorg was slightly tense and this felt like a good way to break the ice. \"First Prefect Zorg Mammot reporting on the colonization and wartime efforts of the Terran Race.\" He cleared his throat again, a bit quieter this time, and took a sip of water. \n\n\"The Organized Parties of Galactic People's Republics\" - these titles Zorg thought - \"Have decreed peace with the... Earth People.\" Much simpler. \"They have colonized the fourth planet in their system, they call it Mars. Their ships are simple and slow.\" \n\nCouncilman Bloerd leaned forward. In a gruff, slow, and boring voice, he interrupted Zorg. \"If they are so slow and simple, why was peace declared?\" \n\nZorg looked at the ugly pile of tentacles and cocked an eyebrow. \"Because, Councilman. We have literally nothing to fight with.\" \n\n\"I'm sorry?\" Bloerd looked less bored at this statement. \n\nZorg rolled his four eyes, while his fifth glared. \"The Council never approved the construction of wartime vessels, so all we have are supply and transport ships. We could challenge the Earth People to a race, we are at least faster than them.\" \n\nBloerd chuckled. \"THAT meeting is scheduled for it's seventeenth hearing next week, Prefect. Don't overstep your bounds.\" ", "They came like angels from the depths of uncharted space. White ships descending upon war-torn systems, packed with instruments to mend the soil and filters to clean the water. When met with us, we who have bickered, fought, and slaughtered, these new beings did not join the violence, they offered aid. They wanted to feed our hungry, trade with our crippled economy. They wanted to share what we had fought so hard to claim as our own. Our own and only our own. They arrived at planets coated in the remains of a billion lost souls, with cities propped up by what remained of their foundation and scorched with the hellfire of war. They looked at this, not with disdain, not with rage, but with wonder. The wonder of Humanity that brought an end to the war... \n\nMichelle Rodriguez exited the ship cautiously, her team members following closely behind her. The alien ruins surrounding them had so many earthly tones to the architecture, and yet still the fact remained that they were many light years from earth, and these were the ruins of a civilization much older than humanity. The skeletons of skyscrapers, paved roads, rectangular doorways. Though it was all cast in a dark, purplish color, much like a human city might be all gray or tan. What vehicles remained strewn about were charred black, scattered against the pavement. \n\n\"Jesus, must have been a blood bath.\" Marcus Franklin, Michelle's assistant said. \n\n\"Hush.\" Michelle whispered over the radio, \"Careful what you say.\" \n\n\"Look!\" Another voice shouted. \n\nMichelle spotted the dark figure peering out from an empty window. The words caught in her throat- the first alien creature she had seen face to face. Transmissions and data discovered had told them much about the history of this region of space. The many hundreds of species that have roamed here, nearly wiped from existence in a war that had cost the alien civilization just about everything. She had spent hours learning languages, phrases, anything she might use to communicate but that knowledge seemed to escape her now. \n\n\"H-Hello there.\" She said, she fumbled around her neck and opened the microphone so her voice could travel beyond her suit, \"Hello there.\" She repeated. \n\nThe creature stepped around the shattered walls of the building. It was shorter than the average human, perhaps four and a half feet in height. It was humanoid in appearance. Two legs, two arms. It had dark gray skin and black eyes, and wore what appeared to be a deep red jump suit. It approached the team with a similar amount of caution. \"Human?\" It asked, looking from the team members and then to their bone-white ship. \n\n\"Yes. Yes Human.\" Michelle replied. A moment later she was standing face to face with the creature, she knelt down to avoid looming over it. She placed a hand to her chest, \"Human.\" \n\nThe creatures narrow lips parted, revealing tiny spike like blue teeth. It seemed to look Michelle up and down. It suddenly extended its four fingered hand. \"Human.\" It said. \n\nMichelle tried not to jump back from the hand, she looked at it for a moment with wide eyes, then realized what the creature was asking. She smiled and took the creatures hand in hers- a hand shake. \n\nThe creature seemed delighted. Clearly it had heard of the humans before. It jumped up and turned to the building it had come out of where now even more faces appeared in the windows and blast hole openings. Its native voice was full of chirps and whistles. \n\n\"Get the water purifiers.\" Michelle said. Her heart thumping in her chest as she watched the creatures form a line in front of her, each waiting for a chance to shake the Humans hand. ", "\"Finally we have managed to cross the gulf of space as easy as driving to the next state with this ship we will meet our destiny and join those who came before us\"\n\nAs the champagne bottle smashed on the side of the ship I thought back to how it all happened. A guy in his garage found out how to bend space and move objects faster than light, billions spent in labs around the world and this guy did it tinkering at the weekends. Now with this ship we will cross to the first star system ever visited by human beings.\n\nIt started with moving around our solar system sending out probes at first, learning how to move through space at above light speed was not easy and many failures happened discoveries poured in from all over the solar system. \n\nWe even went back to using monkeys and dogs to test out how it would effect humans. The first human Michelle days will live on in humanity forever. She was the first person to see Jupiter from close up. She and her team where also the ones to have found the anomaly on a moon orbiting Jupiter at first it looked like a normal geological feature but it was giving off heat, not much but enough to be curious about.\n\nEveryone always thinks Alpha Centauri is the first star we would go to but from the first interstellar probes there was not much there to excite. My team and I where looking for life, who would know that the first place we would visit outside of the solar system would be because of something we found in our own backyard.\n\nIt took several years of research but we had finally found where the ship had come from, looking at it you would be mistaken for thinking human beings had built it. It seemed built to house bipedal beings doors had handles, height of corridors was about right for us, it was heated nicely and although we have not figured out how to fly it but we have been able to get some information from the computer. \n\n\"Ladies and gentleman today we meet our first alien life form, no one knows how this will go, what they will look like or how they will react to us but you are all well trained and experts in your field. Do your jobs and together we will make history\"\n\n\"Mister spears you may launch when ready\"\n\nThe ship lifted slowly at first building up speed until it reached the escape velocity of earth. Once in orbit and the course plotted a simple command into the console and space folded around the ship.\n\nI will never get tired of seeing the stars bend the way they do, they bend all the way to a single point like a lens. Once that happens though there is not much to see. \n\nI have asked the computer to wake me when we get near to the coordinates and go to sleep. A few hours later a soft chime wakes me up and I make my way to the bridge.\n\n“Mister Spear status response please”\n\n“All systems nominal, we should reach the coordinates in a few seconds.\n\nTo see it from the outside the ship pops into existence I am told it is because until we got there we where not emitting light once you drop out of bent space a wake of light particles bursts out and to an observer you just appear.\n\n“Report”\n\n“There are 3 planets that we can directly see and a massive structure in orbit around the third”\n\n“Take the ship closer”\n\nAs we move closer to the object we are in awe of the data we are getting all three planets are capable of sustaining human life but there are no radio signals or ships under power that we can see.\nThe structure is a massive sphere over 100 miles across and has what looks like windows, airlocks and antenna A massive hole looks like it punches deep into it. Jagged pieces and debris floats nearby.\n \nInitial telemetry shows that only the structure around the third planet is powered so we will go there first.\n \nReaching the structure we start sending messages in all earth languages and we include text from the alien ship but so far no response. Moving closer to the structure we are now within 300 miles. The ships computer shuts down and starts again with text rolling over the screen it is the messages we sent in earth languages along with the alien one but now they are all changing to the alien language. The alien language fills the screen then starts translating to English.\n\n“We are all dead. killed by the darkness. Every machine of war that could be built was. We destroyed stars killed countless billions of the enemy and still they came. It is too this end we have decided we cannot continue to fight what is the point of life if it is only for war. I am the last messenger to any who will come here. Kill yourself you cannot win they cannot be stopped”", "Captains log: entry 1\n\nI realise I never actually kept the log I was meant to, but never too late to start, right? It also might explain things better then I will in person, so here goes, from the start\n\nIt had all happened so fast. One day some rice farmer found a chunk of metal while digging a hole, the next the world was nearly at war over this alien ship. An inter-national committee was formed to decide what was the best course of action for humanity. There was always a committee.\n\n So the wreck was analysed and tinkered with and reverse-engineered into the Starship Columbus. A crew of just over two hundred was assembled, lead the brilliant Commander Nikolai Vanko, Russia's finest man. Incidentally not brilliant enough not to walk into a depressurised part of the ship four months in. So I, his first Lieutenant, was promoted to commander, against my will I'd like to add.\n\nFast Forward two years and we were there, planet Kepler-894b, or Mehtaap to the locals, like I give a crap. We opened a channel with the main governing force there, and funnily enough, the multi-trillion dollar translator wasn't turned on. The Mehtaapian (Mehtaaps?) had their own. It didn't, however, convert metaphors, so that's where it all went wrong.\n\nI guess in their language, branch more brings to mind a cudgel than a symbol of peace, so the whole olive branch thing gave off the wrong vibe, and I guess describing to them about and comparing us to the Vikings discovering America (I don't give a shit about the ship name, they got there first) was a bad idea because, you know... pillaging. To wrap it all up, they just suffered a little mutually assured destruction on a galactic scale. All in all they were all to happy give up without a fight. Before we could explain, it sort of dominoed and three other species have surrendered.\n\nYou'd think controlling most of the Galaxy would be a good thing, but we don't even know what these things eat, never mind how to organise food rationing for them. And to cap it off, they keep sending me concubines, which isn't bad in it's self, but they reproduce telepathically, so I'm just getting a head ache.\n\nBasically we're going to try and slip away before they notice. I'm sending this log entry ahead so you can get all the anger out of your system and not try us for desertion. Hopefully.\n\nEntry End\n", "The outer satellites had detected the large body weeks before it came into our solar system. Originally it was thought to be a small meteorite, a stray ball of rock not yet enslaved by the gravity of some distant world. As it was studied further its composition became clear. It was largely heavy metals. This was no meteorite, this was a vessel. The united space program bombarded the vessel's direction with hailing signals desperate to make first contact. No signal was ever returned. The inner colonies of Mars began to prepare a small envoy to meet the ship as it entered our solar system. \n\nThey would hail the vessel at a short range, and attempt a docking procedure. None were prepared for when the vessel arrived. It was a husk, a dead shell of the glory it had previously been. The derelict vessel continued forth, propelled by engines long silent. Only then did a signal come through. The ships dirge.\n\n“This is the Sentient Spark of the Anthitar Warship The Ascendent. Turn back and return to your homes. The galaxy has fallen. The worlds of many have been plundered, the lives of many have been taken, the empires of the great ones has risen and fallen and all legacies have been spent. We pillaged worlds for their resources in an endless war, leaving nothing alive or of value. All was consumed. And now nothing, after the catastrophe all is silent in this galaxy. If you can hear me, you are all that is left. Do not give yourselves to war and hatred as we did. Stride forth for a better future. May you honour you ancestors”\n\nThe signal began to loop. It preached its message of ahniliation for 2 and a half months as it slowly meandered through our solar system. During that time, mankind scavenged what it could from the husk. Taking engine designs, power conduits, floor plans, life support schematics anything they could. As it neared the edge of the solar system it fell silent once more. Mankind left The Ascendant once more to continue its funeral march and resound its swan song to the next civilisation. Only time would tell if man was worthy of this forewarning. \n", "The day of celebration quickly soured. Jubilation turned to fear and uncertainty within minutes of the emissary stepping out of the capsule shrouded in black. \n\nThe question had finally been answered no more than 3 weeks ago. We weren't alone in the universe. SETI had picked up a radio signal from intelligent life, and it was getting closer. The world's media was in a frenzy. News coverage was plastered wall to wall with opinions of eminent scientists and celebrities, each espouses their views as to what the message was, who sent it, and what would happen when the signal reached earth.\n\nAs the figure made his way down the steps with his head bowed, and his hands clasped in front of his cloak, absolute silence gripped the crowd. This was the moment. The moment they had all fought to witness.\n\nThe figure raised his head, a mournful look on his humanoid face. \n\n'This was all your fault'. A low murmur rippled through the crowd. \n\nThe figure held up his hand, and motioned to speak again.\n\n'Throughout the universe we have always fought to keep young civilizations safe from those that would take advantage. We shield those, who, like children, know no better. But you. You went too far. We caught the probes, and cloaked your telescopes. We deflected signals bound for your blue rock. You weren't ready.'\n\nThe figure heaved a heavy sigh. \n\n'One message evaded us, however. The Aricebo message. You told the galaxy that you had Carbon, and other elements, that have caused countless wars throughout the galaxy. You did not understand their importance. You did not know that they were coveted by other worlds, and other civilisations.'\n\nA single tear tracked down his cheek.\n\n'And so we fought. We fought for your world. Alliances were made and broken, and the conflict escalated beyond measure. We fought for your children, and lost ours. We fought for your resources, and we lost ours. And now, we are all that is left.'" ]	9
	[WP] Start a story with "We have to kill the boy!"	[ "“We have to kill the boy!” Mark declared in exasperation, pacing the room and occasionally returning my glare. The rest of the survivors looked down at their laps, or pretended to be otherwise occupied. Everyone wanted to watch this scene pan out, but no one wanted to play a part. Not a single person would hold my gaze. \n\nI tried hard to keep all emotion out of my voice as I answered, throwing my words at him in a steely monotone. “You will not touch him.” My son lay in my lap and I stroked his hair gently. The tell-tale rash had begun to spread up his neck and arms; the first stage of the disease had fully taken him in its grip. \n\nI know very little about the disease, other than the fact that very little is known about it. What I can say, having seen so many of the people I loved succumb, is that it is highly contagious, and often fatal. The first stage consists of relatively benign symptoms, the most obvious being the red rash that starts on the lower back or stomach but spreads quickly. After a few days, the sufferer begins to feel better; this is when stage two begins. I shan’t go into the grim details, but the ordeal will culminate, after days of suffering, with an outbreak of angry raised sores that habitually burst at the slightest movement. It is at this stage that the disease becomes wildly contagious. I can’t say why. Research was just never done. I can, however, say that without strict quarantine, anyone in contact with the sufferer will be likely to contract the disease. \n\nUnfortunately, quarantine isn’t an option when you’re trapped inside a sealed bunker. \n\n“Alanna,” the voice came from beside me, and I flinched at the sound of my name. The speaker was a middle-aged man, with a soft voice but small eyes that flashed cruelly in the dim light. “I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, but you must see that we don’t have much choice. We can’t leave this room. I have no idea how long we’ll be down here, or what we’ll find if we do go back out there, but I do know is that outside this bunker, the world has changed. Nowhere is safe. This isn’t a question of right or wrong anymore, this is a question of survival. I’m sorry that it has to be this way.”\n\nThe finality of his speech pushed me into a panic. I could hear myself talking so fast that my words blurred together into a nonsensical torrent of pleas and threats, yet I couldn’t collect myself enough to slow. They were taking my son, the only light left in my increasingly dark world. After everything else, I thought, after all the suffering I’ve seen, all the people I’ve lost, must I really be made to watch my youngest son die this way? I would never allow it. \n\nEventually, when I ran out of words and descended into quiet sobs, I sat dejected with my son in the corner of that awful concrete prison. No one spoke. The only sound was Mark as he paced the length of the room. I listened to his steps, almost musical in their rhythm. \n\nClump, clump, clump, pause. \n\nClump, clump, clump, pause. \n\nClump, clump, clump, pause. \n\nPause. \n\n“Okay,” he said finally, “I won’t be the one to make this decision. We will leave it, and tomorrow, we decide. All of us will vote. You can chose to let the boy live, and determine your own death to be a slow and painful one; or you can chose for him to die, and the rest of us can live. But you will all chose.” \n\nA murmur of unrest sounded throughout the bunker. I sat in horrified silence. I had one day to convince these people to let my child live, and I had no idea how. The man with the soft voice got up from my side and walked to the supplies crates; he returned with a cup of some dark liquid. He told me to drink, assuring me it was a coffee when I asked. I didn’t question it further, I just let myself be warmed by the liquid as it flowed through my body. Once finished, I let the cup drop from my hand and roll across the ground. I was so tired. It’s the stress, I heard someone say quietly, just relax, just let yourself go. I fought it for a few more seconds, an uneasy feeling in my gut, then there was darkness. \n\nI was awoken by a sound. In my semiconscious state, it tore through the room with such intensity that I could have believed the world itself had been ripped in two. I feared that another bomb had been dropped. \n\nThen I started hearing more. Someone shouting, a girl sobbing, and Mark’s voice giving orders over it all, saying something like “move it to the corner, cover it with something”. I knew from that moment that something very wrong was happening. I sat up and blinked to clear my vision. I could see men’s figures in the corner, dragging something, struggling under its weight. What was it? I squinted to see in the dark. A sack? No… \n\nThat was the moment I realised the residue in my cup was off-colour. \n\nThat was the moment I realised my son was no longer in my arms. \n\nThat was the moment I saw the gun. \n\n\t\t\t\t\nFor the first week, they kept me tied up. \n\nWhen I tired of struggling, they stopped bothering to tie me. Now they just kept me under constant watch. A month has passed since that night. Still we have had no sign that life outside of this bunker has survived. The surveillance Mark enforced upon me has been slacking recently. Twice this week I have awoken in the night to find the whole bunker is asleep. I have no plan yet, but I’m working on it. These people will pay for what they’ve done.\nFirst Mark; always be sure to take down the leader. Then the soft voiced man (I learned last week that his name is David); there will be a certain macabre pleasure in seeing those cruel eyes widen in fear as he realises what is happening. Then the men who carried my son’s body and left it in the corner of the room to rot. Then the innocent bystanders who did nothing to prevent this murder. \n\nThis is not a question of right or wrong; this is a question of survival.\n\nThese people don’t deserve to be the survivors. \n\n\t\t\t\t\n\nFirst time writing, would love to hear some opinions, I know this turned out a bit dark! Also was unsure if this should be finished at the first grey line (stuff about gun), or continued to the current ending, what do people think? \n", "\"We have to kill the boy\"\n\nThe words echoed in Mark's ears like a gunshot. This was his wife talking. He'd known her for 25 years, she knew him better than anyone else, but he couldn't understand what was going through her mind tonight. Her face was pressed against the glass of the nursery; fingernails sliding up and down on the pane. \n\n\"I saw him. Those eyes.... He's going to come for us.\"\n\n\"Honey, that's our boy. Our first CHILD. He is going to grow up beautiful and smart just like his mother. I promise, hun, everything is going to be ok. We'll get through this.\"\n\n\"Get through this? There's nothing to get through. That monster is a killer. We have to stop this. He has to die.\"\n\nHe escorted her back to the bed and stayed with her until she was asleep. A few hours later the doctor came into the room. \"Mr. Barrigan, would you like to meet your baby?\" As hard as the day had been, nothing could have prepared him for the emotions that filled him now. As he walked through the hall he felt excited, overjoyed, overwhelmed, and terrified. He and Gina had been trying to conceive for years and it finally happened. Will I be a good father? Will I be able to provide? Will I have to do this alone? He paused. He didn't know if Gina's condition was permanent. What if she couldn't recover? Would she think their son was a monster forever? Can she be trusted with him?\n\n Before he could answer any of these things for himself he was at the door. His mind went blank. He walked in and heard his voice. It sounded like an angel, fitting that he would resemble his namesake. As he lifted angel up into his arms he felt tears stream down his face. \"Your home\" he choked. For hours he sat there staring at his firstborn. None of it mattered. Everything in the world was in his arms. In that moment his fears were crushed and he knew. Knew that no harm would come to this child, and he would do everything for him. He looked through the glass at Gina and smiled. She smiled back.", "\"We have to kill the boy!\" a voice cries out.\n\nDark clouds surround a mob of death hungry tyrants as the ground rumbles to the sound of one thousand footsteps.\n\nA helpless boy peeks around the corner from the dark alley he swiftly managed to turn into. The rotting smell of food is pungent like rotting bodies in his nose as he deeply inhales to catch his breath.\n\n\"He's over this way\" a voice echo's out.\n\nThe boy quickly pulls his peeking eyeball back out from around the corner and murmurs a few words under his breath. Flickering flames bounce off the rotting like walls from the buildings surrounding him in a district simply known as \"The Alleys of the Dead.\" \n\nHe quickly turns and starts his way deeper into the alley as the lucid orange flames fade slowly like candles in the distance. Puddles echo along the long brick passage as he steps in one after another drowning his feet in the cold liquid.\n\nThump\n\nHis knee takes the fall when he hits the ground as something soft trips him in the darkness. His torn jeans now slowly absorb the blood trickling out the small but deep cut. The stinging doesn't catch his attention as he peers to the shadow of what tripped him in the flicking flames from the distance. \n\nThe body of another boy, cold as the hand that rests against the opening between his sock and pants he unfortunately stumbled over. -\n\nThis is my first time writing in a prompt on here, Sorry to cut it off but perhaps i'll finish later tonight, I'm writing this on my lunch break at work\n\n-Continued\n\nHis breathing picks up in a panic as he clumsily kicks the hand away. Quick to his feet he stands hunched over briefly trying to make out the figure of the rested body. Could it be? Someone he knows? A lot of his friends have mysteriously disappeared in the last weeks, but it was not uncommon for people to turn a blind eye to these reports.\n\nAs dark and quiet as the alley seemed to be for the moment, no silence could be found in his thoughts as his mind ran almost insane with overlapping questions but there is no time.\n\n\"I must keep going\" he thought to himself.\n\"I cannot stop right now\"-\n\nRight then the flickering of light down the cobblestone pathway turned into a strong glow. A torch followed by a flood of voices direct in his path looked on in observance.\n\n\"He had to have gone this way\" a scratchy but deep voice bellows out.\n\"Are you sure?\" a woman's voice called out this time.\n\nMore torches continue to gather around the lead of the pack and the glow now progresses into a shine. The boy cautiously takes a step back with his right foot as he feels the shakiness of his knees attack him like a swarm of wasps protecting their nest. Something stops him. A hard surface.\n\n\"Fuck\" He whimpers in a screechy almost inaudible tone. A memory of his grandfather triggers to his mind as he remembers hearing the first time he heard him openly cuss in front of him.\n\nThe boys arm quickly swings behind him and slaps a cold damp rough brick wall. With all that had happened only hours before, he could not fathom how everything lead to this one moment. His back now directly pushed against the solid brick as his hands frantically searched for something, anything.\n\nFootsteps start to progress down the previously blackened passage as the puddles that soaked his feet now thunder in his mind like unruly waves hitting a cargo ship at sea. His knees start to buckle as if rain the previously fell weighs down on him like a heavy weight.\n\n\"Hey\" a Light whisper slithers to his ear \n\"Right here\"\n\nThe boy turns his head but even with the growing glow that approaches him, simply cannot make out what hes looking at. \n\nRight then a hand grasps on his frail wrist and with a tug pulls him through a narrow passage no bigger than the size of his underweight body as his shirt rips and tatters along the opening while scraping at his hip.\n\nDrip, Drip\n\nWater drips in an enclosed echo of what seems to be a small room darker than the alley he first peered down.\nHe could feel the movements of this person probably no older than himself shimmy to the opening and block it with a foreign object, cancelling the only light aiding his view.\n\nBoth bodies now heavily breathing in the darkness as the faint noises of the alley seep through the slim cracks of the brick. What were strong clairvoyant voices now only sound like muffled inaudible murmurs as the pack reached the end of the alley and only peered into the dead end. \n\nIt was only just seconds ago that the boy was ready to succumb to his fate, and now he lays hunched over with a strange person in what feels like a small, wet, cold and dark compartment. He is alive. Only by chance. -\n\nSorry I have no ending to this at the moment, I really just rolled with where ever it was taking me. Probably not the best layout for a short story, but if there is any interest in me continuing I can sleep on it. I really enjoyed exploring this with you guys. As I continued to explore my options in direction, it may seem that I will write out a whole spiel including more of a background to this story. I kinda started to get deep into thought with this and would like to explore where this journey takes me and this boy. Thanks for the notes and corrections, I'm obviously not well vised in literature as much as I like to express but I truly enjoyed this opportunity of expression.", "„We have to kill the boy!”\n\nMac couldn't believe his wife's words. He's never seen her like this before, completely consumed by fear and hatred. He stared hard into Beth's eyes in search for the woman he once married. \n\n“I can't do it. Can you?” - Mac asked.\n\n“Well, I can't either. I-I just can't.” - she answered. \n\n“Then why the fuck are you brining it up? Don't you know how crazy you sound?” he said irritated. \n\n“Listen, I know it sounds crazy and I know I can't do it, but we have to. That boy, that thing. It's a monster” - her voice was shaking from fear.\n\n“What? He looks just like a normal kid. He's just … different” - he said.\n\n“Different? HE TORE HIS CRIB IN HALF” - Beth screamed. \n\nSuddenly they heard a scream. The sound of a baby crying echoed in their house. Beth looked at her husband with tears in her eyes.\n\n“I'm not going in there. I don't ever want to touch him again.” - she said, fighting back the tears.\n\n“WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO? YOU WANT ME TO KILL HIM? I CAN'T” - Mac shouted.\n\n“You have to, please, you have to.” - Beth begged her husband.\n\nMac paced around the room, trying to stay calm but with little to no success. He felt a burning anger and disgust when he looked at his wife.\n\n“I told you not to take the kid. I told you to call CPS.”\n\n“But we didn't and now that thing is here”\n\n“Because of you. YOU wanted to take him. YOU.”\n\nThey both stood in their room in complete silence. Seconds felt like hours and hours felt like ages. It seemed like they didn't even hear the baby cry anymore.\n\n“What if he accidentally kills another child, what if he kills us? Look at how strong he is now. He wasn't that strong when we took him. What if he becomes ever stronger?” - Beth finally spoke up.\n\nShe wanted a response but didn't get one. Mac just stood here, his look was begging her not say what she was about to say.\n\n“I'm asking a lot from you, but we both know that we have to do it. He's just too big of a danger for anyone. We need to kill him while we still can.” \n\nMac sat down in a chair, hiding his face in his hands. He didn't want anyone looking at him right now. Deep down he knew Beth was right. That was the worst part. He had to do the most horrible and gruesome thing in his life so far.\n\n“Okay” - he mumbled.\n\n“What?” - she asked in disbelief.\n\n“I said okay. I'll do it.”\n\nBeth sat on the floor next to him and grabbed his hand. Seeing the love of her life like that broke her hearth but she knew nothing would make Mac feel better. \n\n“It's okay baby. I'm here for you.” - she tried comforting him. \n\n“How do we do it?” - Mac asked.\n\n“I don't know. Maybe take him back where we found him, leave his body in that thing he came in here”.\n\n“That metal thing? Ok.”\n\nMac stood up, his feet felt like heavy rocks. Each step tired him like a marathon run. He entered the boy's room and discovered that the baby wasn't crying anymore, it was sleeping. The peaceful look on it's face only made what was about to be done that much harder. Mac covered the baby in a red blanket and took it in his arms. Together they got in a car, embarking on a journey only one of them would survive. \n\nThere are no words in the English language to describe how he felt during the ride. His mind was constantly changing. One second he felt like he was doing the right thing, the next moment everything in him was screaming to turn the car around. But he didn't. Finally he reached his destination. They found a boy next to a dirt road, in the middle of a field. He didn't remember anymore why he and Beth were there in the first place. God knows, he wished they were somewhere else back then. Mac took the the still sleeping baby in his arms and walked towards the metal pod they found it in. He couldn't believe that after all this time that thing was still there. He put the baby in it and searched for something heavy on the ground, finally finding a rock. He picked it up and raised it above his head. But nothing was happening. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't do it. He cursed and sobbed but he was no closer to committing that horrifying act. Eventually Mark decided to give up, maybe the boy will die on his own, maybe the animals will eat him. He got inside of his truck and drove off, thinking about what he will tell his wife.\n\nMany hours passed but the boy was still there, alive. The sun rose over the horizon and it's light shined in the baby's face hard enough to wake it up. Soon enough the boy realized he was alone and did what every child does upon such realization. He cried and screamed but no one was answering. The boy started to look around, only to find a dark blob in the distance getting bigger and louder every second. To his, child mind it was a beast. He tried to get out of the pod and hide but the “monster” was already there. It's growling stopped and it's sides opened. A man and a woman emerged from inside.\n\n“My god Martha, is that a baby?” - said the man, while stepping out of his car.\n\n“I think it is. Quick, get some water” - Martha instructed her husband and walked towards the child. She took the boy in her arms and tried to comfort him.\n\n“Shhh, it's okay. Everything is going to be fine.” - she reassured him.\n\nJonathan joined his wife with a bottle of water. He couldn't believe his eyes.\n\n“Our prayers have been answered. God finally gave us a child Martha. What should we call him?” he asked his wife.\n\n“Let's name him Clark, after your grandfather. Hmm, Clark Kent. It has a nice ring to it”.\n\nTHE END" ]	4
	[WP] As long as you can remember, you've had a small 49 tattooed on the back of your shoulder. Today you learned why.	[ "As the door of my cell opened and the light poured in, I prepared myself to die. They had kept me there for weeks, giving me just enough food to survive. They didn't kill me, although now I wish that They did. I was muzzled and hauled into another pitch black room with 99 other people. It was hours before They finally turned on the lights. That's when I realized that the others in the room, which was about as big as a football field, were me.\n\nWell, not exactly me. Some were bigger or smaller. Some wore glasses, and some had different hair. One was even in a wheelchair! That was Number 13. Poor guy. He didn't last long after They gave us our mission over the intercom. It was pure Darwinism; survival of the fittest. And the fittest was the only one that would be left alive. The room didn't instantly erupt into anarchy like you would expect. It started small. Numbers 1-10 grouping together, assuming they were the best. Number 38 slitting his own throat with one of the various weapons on the floor. The only \"fight\", if you could call it that, was between Number 26 and Number 13. It went as you would expect.\n\nNumbers 1-10 wasted no time. They each grabbed a weapon and brutally slaughtered 23 of us before they were finally taken down. Number 92 swung at me with a crowbar, but before I could do anything to him, Number 46 cut him in half with an axe. Behind me, Number 18 stabbed me with a pencil right under my tattoo. I threw his much smaller body over myself, and soon I had him on the ground, my hands around his neck. As I looked into his eyes, my eyes, I wanted to let him go, but I knew that if I let him go he would kill me. When the life finally drained from his eyes, I saw that our numbers had been culled to fifteen. When I saw Number 100, I knew why. The man was a beast. He had to have been 6\"7 and 300 lbs. I did the logical thing: I ran. In the corner of the room where I hid under the bodies of my brethren, I noticed something. A loose tile that I could barely pry open with my hands. Number 100, my last brother, sprinted towards me as I grabbed my discovery, but that didn't matter. All the muscle in the world can't stop a bullet. As I stood over his corpse, the intercom came on once more:\n\n\"Experiment 49 is a success. Initiate Phase Two.\"", "The neon street danced worlds of light off of the semi-wet pavement. I walked through their dance, creating a kaleidoscope of colors, as I headed to the Better Eyes Undercover Agency. Funny how the best place to find information is in the bottom of the slums. \n\nI opened the steel framed door to a world of little gadgets and doodads. The frontal store was a front to the wider agency hiding below, but they took in their own fair share of profits from mistrusting husbands and wives who, though were equally unfaithful themselves, had mistrust of their partner, or were just trying to gain an upper-hand advantage in some settlement or another.\n\n\"Mark!\" I heard from the far corner, next to the camera Teddy Bears and button sized \"micro-viewers.\"\n\"Hey Sizemond,\" I said with a hesitation. The hesitation of knowing a crook when you see him.\n\"Alright bro, I know you are a big Federal Incursion Agent and all, but you might want to sit down for this.\"\n\"Sizemond, I don't have time for games, just tell me what the 49 means.\"\n\"It's big business, bro.\" Sizemond said, staring into Mark's eyes. \"Supply and demand Ya' know?\" \n\"No. I hate the market.\"\n\"Shit brother, you are demand...hell we all are. people are trying to satisfy the supply.\"\n\"So I am the supply, what is the demand?\" \n\"Let's restart brother. Do you like Scotch?\"\nMark, head in hands, replied, \"Fuck Sizemond...yea I like Scotch. What does scotch have anything to do with me?\"\n\"Barrel aged, brother. The best aged for the best customers. I am not sure how to tell you without you blowing a gasket, but someone out there has a serious hankering for flesh and blood.\"\n\"Great, flesh and blood. What does that have to do with the number 49? You were supposed to be the best, why don't you tell me something that I don't know?\"\nSizemond looked up from his computer with glazed over eyes. \"I can tell you that everyone else I have found with a similar mysterious tattoo to yours has died on the same year of their birthday that has corresponded with their tattoo. 28 tattoo, died while they were 28. Nice ink done of a stylistic 34, but don't remember getting it? BAM! killed two weeks after the 34th birthday by a freak hang gliding accident. It is a mark, a sign...to when you will bite it.\"\n\nMark sighed, clearly exhausted from the search, \"And what does that have to do with blood and flesh?\" \n\"All the bodies were found with missing flesh, cut clean off, and almost no blood left in their system. I think they are harvesting. Whoever 'they' are.\"\n\"And the younger the person, the cheaper their their harvest? How much for an almost 50 year old vintage?\" \n\"...I dunno,\" Sizemond said in a whisper.\n\n\"I'm 49 now....my tattoo, 49.\"\n\"I am not sure I should be here,\" Mark whispered.\n\nKnock, knock, knock, sounded from the entrance door.\n " ]	2
	[WP] Hitler slips past security and sneaks into Heaven. Everything goes into lock-down and God assembles his security advisers.	[ "'Jesuuuuusss!'\n\n'Yes....dd..aa...dd', mumbled Jesus in reply. He hadn't seen his father so angry since he snuck out for a night on earth and had ended up being captured by the Romans and nailed to a cross. \nGod's eyes narrowed as he struggled to compose himself. 'Did I, or did I not put you in charge of security around here?'. \n\n'Umm....yes'. \n\n'Do you know why I did that?'. In the distance thunder roared and the rains came crashing down. A sure sign that dad was really pissed. \n'Umm...because Lucifer defected and you needed someone you could trust?'. Dad's brow formed a furrow as he processed the words. I could sense that for the briefest of moments he forgot why he was so angry in the first place. Sometimes he was a tad forgetful, but one can forgive a man for losing a few marbles once he's as old as dad. 'Someone you could trust, dad?', I offered helpfully to jog his memory. The rage boiled up again as he regained his train of thought. \n'Yes, someone I could trust!' he thundered. 'Do you have any idea how much shit you have got us into this time?'. I could sense one of dad's rather long monologues coming so I braced myself for the onslaught. \n\n'I'm running out of superlatives to describe, the magnitude of your fuck up's Jesus, but let us quickly recap for the benefit of my security goons I have present here today, who I might add are all equally bereft of any talents in security. So, there was that time I decided to go to the Opera with your mother and I came home, to what? A fucking Ice Age? You cunted up the planet so badly that everything died! How? I cannot even begin to comprehend the ineptitude needed to screw things up that badly! Then there was the time you decided to sneak off for a bit of 'Me time' as you put it and ended up being crucified by the Roman's. I managed to smooth that over with a bit of propaganda, but look where that got us. A never ending war in the Middle East'. \n\nDad was positively salivating with rage by now and I took my chance in hi next pause to mount my defense. 'Ok, dad....I get it'. Unfortunately words completely failed me and not for the first time in my life. \n\n'Ok, dad?. That's it? You were off God does not know where and all I get is an \"Ok, dad?\". What was it this time? Gambling? Actually, you know what, I don't want to know. Just find that bloody Hitler and make sure you bring him to me'. \n\n\n/END. I ran out of creative juice at the end. \n\n\n\n\n\n", "\"Holy father above us Peter!\" Michael roared with the ferocity and authority that only the right hand of God could manage \"You let WHO into Heaven!?\"\n\n\"Well, you see, uh...\" Peter stammered and stopped, terrified at the visage of the incandescent being of near almighty power and indignation that stood before him.\n\n\"I DON'T SEE!\" Michael lashed out again \" That is entirely the problem!\"\n\n\"Gabriel, Raphael, Castiel, why haven't you brought before me this miserable pile of sins called a man?\"\n\nGabriel tried to soothe his older, wrathful brother \"Mistakes happen Michael, to err is human.\"\n\n\"That doesn't explain why YOU haven't found him yet!\"\n\n\"Michael\" Raphael started \"We have searched high and low, from the pearly gates to the grand ascension, we cannot find him, can we be truly sure that he even remains in heaven? Perhaps Peter was mistaken, after all it is easy to confuse the myriads of human souls that spark and fade with every passing moment.\"\n\nPeter now rose up. He had made a mistake, his vigilance waned and a sinner got the best of him, but the thought that he had mistaken Hitler for another Human soul was beyond his ability to lay silent as the Archangels spoke among him.\n\n\"No. I wish it were my mistake in that I confused him. But I did not. For ages I have recognized every face that has come to these gates, and saw upon those faces the weight of their sins, and weighed them upon the scales, checked their deeds against my scroll. I have welcomed the righteous and sent away the wicked.\" Peter spoke with even timbre and sincerity.\n\nThe Archangels stopped and listened to the Saint.\n\n\"But this man? He may seem unimportant in the ages that pass in the blink of an eye for your kind, but on Earth? To we mankind? He is a devil!\" Peter spoke out venomously.\n\n\"He has propagated hate, orchestrated genocide, and spread lies and evil wherever he went!\"\n\nThe Archangels, now fully comprehending the severity of the situation, that it was not simply a sinner that defiled God's holy paradise, but a king among sinners, a truly wicked and vile man.\n\n\"Alright\" Michael started \"Once again, summon the heavenly host, scour the entirety of paradise, I shall assist you with this task as well\" he said joining his brothers.\n\n\"And what am I to do?\" Peter asked meekly.\n\n\"Continue as you have always done, and stand fast in your charge\" Michael said with a smile, his temper cooling and his love for his fathers creation again restored.\n\nThe minutes turned to hours and eventually Michael summoned his brothers to the first step of the Grand Ascension.\n\n\"My brothers, it is time. It is time we inform our father of our failure.\"\n\nThe Archangels stood deathly still until Gabriel spoke up \n\n\"I can look again, I can find him, but please grant us more time, our Father will be so filled with wrath! What punishment would he lay upon us should we fail him in protecting his sanctuary!?\" \n\n\"None that we didn't deserve my brother\" Raphael said with a deep sigh and resignation about him. \"We cannot escape our fate.\"\n\n\"I cannot bear the idea of being cast out!\" cried out Castiel \"What if we are damned as Lucifer was!?\"\n\n\"My brothers enough!\"\n\nMichael silenced his brothers, walked back and forth for a moment contemplating his course of action.\n\n\"I shall speak to our Father\" Michael said finally \"I shall beg of him forgiveness, and have him right this wrong.\"\n\nA wave of relief passed over the Archangels, Michael the favoured son, would do the unsavoury task at hand. He would beg Gods forgiveness, enlist his help, and...suffer his wrath. They held hope for their brother that their Father would be merciful.\n\nMichael began his ascension up the grand staircase leading to his Fathers private domain. He thought of his accomplishments and his failings, and prayed the former weighed heavier than the latter. He thought of how a single human had tricked them, evaded them, and shamed them. He tried to wash his feelings of wrath towards this 'Hitler' away. He needed to focus on his task at hand.\n\nAs he entered Gods domain, and walked into his study, he found his Father in the company of another. But who could it be? Who else would dare intrude upon his Fathers solitude?\n\nIn the chair next to the Lord, sipping from a glass a fine drink that was beyond the imagining of mortal souls, sharing a laugh with his Highness, was a short man with dark hair and a funny mustache.\n\nIt couldn't be! Could it? But how!? Michaels mind searched desperately for an answer but came up empty handed.\n\n\"My Father, My Lord, His Highness in the Heavens above, Master of All creation and..\" Michael began but was interrupted by his Father.\n\n\"Yes Michael, what is it? Can you not see I am entertaining company!?\"\n\n\"My Father!\" Cried Michael \" That is precisely why I come to you so, you see this Man has sneaked into Heaven, he shouldn't be Here!\"\n\n\"Was it your task to decide who is worthy to enter my domain Michael?\" The Lord spoke, quietly ,but with an authority that was unmistakeable.\n\n\"No my Lord, but...\"\n\n\"But what?\" The Lord asked ponderously.\n\n\"But he is a sinner amongst sinners! He has lived without accord to your teachings!\" Michael began with earnesty and desperation in his voice in equal measure, hoping for his father to understand why he was so worried. \n\n\"Yes.\" The Lord stated simply.\n\n\"He has spread hate, ignorance and lies!\"\n\n\"Yes\"\n\n\"He has committed violence, murder and genocide against his fellow man\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"He must be cast down!\" Michael cried emphatically.\n\n\"No, he shall stay In Heaven.\"\n\n\"Why my lord, why must he stay?\" Michael pleaded for clarity.\n\n\"My son, you have overlooked his good deeds.\" The Lord stated.\n\n\"What? What possible great act of decency could he have done that could have redeemed him so?\"\n\n\"Well\" The Lord said with a shrug \"He did kill Hitler.\"" ]	2
	[WP] After spending years in college studying to get your law degree, you are now a brand new lawyer and you've been hired by Satan himself to be his defense attorney. You are now, quite literally, the devil's advocate.	[ "\"This is Satan?\" \n\n\"Yes, Mr. Ronalds.\"\n\n\"Then I quit.\" \n\n\"You cannot do that.\" \n\n\"Yes I can. I quit. I have a right to quit.\"\n\n\"If you win, Douglas, then you will be rich. You will have won against God. Or the Mouthpiece of--\" \n\n\"You think I care, Emily? I practice family law. I wanted to help kids in hard places. And this is the guy who makes daddy drink too much, that makes Mommy hit-- No. I won't do this. I have seen his work and I want nothing to do with it.\" \n\n\"You will regret this.\" \n\n\"No. I don't think I will.\"", "“The Pope?”\n\n“Yeah…the Pope is on line one.”\n\n“Emily, if this is George I’m going to be very angry.”\n\n“Michael, if George suddenly learned Italian then you can yell at me.”\n\nA deep sigh escapes Michael’s lips as he picks up the receiver. Graduated top of his class at Harvard Law and immediately hired into Baker & McKenzie only to be stuck with entry level clients and prank calls.\n\n“Hello?”\n\nA deep voice speaks an accented English in your ear.\n“Hello. This is Pope Francis.”\n\n“Uh huh.”\n\n“There has been some startling revelations in the church, son. We’ve found Satan’s physical presence and we need you.”\n“Uh huh.”\n\n“Is there an issue, Michael?”\n\n“Very funny George.”\n\nThe voice breaks into sharp sounding Italian, a click puts you on hold. Another click signals a transfer.\n\n“Michael.”\n\n“Mr. Leite?”\n\n“Yes you dumbshit. Now listen to me. You’re working this case with the Pope because somehow out of 4,200 lawyers you’re the only fucking Catholic, and the Popa only works with fucking Catholics. This is the real deal, now listen to the guy. If he transfers you back to me, your ass can work for Saul Goodman for all I care.”\n\nThe line clicks again. Michael stammers into the receiver. “I-I-I’m so sorry your holiness. Your wish is my command.”\n\n“I’m glad you’ve come around. I need you to listen carefully. Back a long time ago, the church had a position for a bishop, devils advocate. I’m sure you’re familiar with the term as a lawyer.”\n\n“Of course your holiness.”\n\n“Well kiddo, you’re the devils advocate.”\n\n“Wait. The actual devil?”\n\n“The actual devil.”\n\n“May I ask why, sir?”\n\n“He needs representation in matters of the church since naturally there’s a great bias against him.”\n\n“…Won’t the arch-bishops know that I’m working for the devil and still be biased against me?”\n\n“This is strictly between you and me, Michael. You’re officially hold the position of the devil’s advocate and unofficially you’re actually the devil’s advocate.”\n\n“Oh…kay.”\n\n“The devil will be sending his client paper work in a moment.”\n\nAnd just like that a parchment as black as the stillest of nights squirms out of the carpet. Michael picks it up and reads it, fairly standard representation clause. Minus all the text being written in blood.\n\n“I don’t see anywhere to sign your holiness.”\n\n“You have to stamp the paper with your bloody thumb. Archaic I know, but it’s just how things work now a days.”\n\nMichael slices his thumb on a fountain pen and stamps it on the paper. It explodes into spiders that crawl into the lobby. Distant screams are heard.\n“Thank you, Michael.” The line clicks dead.\n\n“Your welcome?”\n\nWith a flash of fire the devil appears in the chair in front of Michael’s desk. The most beautiful man Michael has ever seen sits before him. Luscious black hair falls around the mans ears. His face holds perfect symmetry and unsetting black eyes gaze into Michaels. A perfectly straight nose and a brilliant white smile flashes Michael. \n\n“Hello.”\n\n“Hello Mr. Satan.”\n\n“I detest formalities, you may call me the Satan.”\n\n“As you wish, Satan.”\n\n“I’m now your only client. I’ll pay you $400,000 a year with chances for overtime, hookers, and if you stay with me for five years I can guarantee hell as a paradise for when you die.”\n\n“Am I going to hell?”\n\nSatan takes out a black notebook and flicks open to a page.\n\n“Saying God’s dead every time you miss a shot in soccer has definitely put you in my book.”\n\n“When do I start?”\n\n“Next week. Oh I nearly forgot, you will of course have free reign over hell. You’ll need to spend some time there to work with me.\n\n“Not a problem.”\n\n“I don’t expect you to win this case I’m presenting to my good friend Francis, but I simply want to test your abilities.”\n\n“Sounds exciting, what will I be doing?”\n\n“I’m nominating Hitler for sainthood.”\n\n“I understand. We’ll go with the Jews killing Jesus rhetoric.”\n\n“You read my mind exactly, Michael. I think we’ll get along swimmingly.”\n", "I took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then exhaled. The hot air of the sauna opened my pores and helped me think. I guess it couldn't be too bad, there are two sides to every story after all, and someone had to stick up for the side everyone loved to hate. \n \nSo that was it, I would do it. The facts were simple: I was a lawyer, I needed work, and before me stood a potential client who had been accused of and blamed for thousands of atrocities throughout the ages. Plus the pay and benefits were down right phenomenal. \n \nAfter a quick shower I made my way over to my closet where a perfectly tailored suit had been ordered for me. Black pinstripe three piece suit, black silk shirt, thin red silk tie, black belt, black socks, jet black leather shoes (freshly polished of course), and a red pocket silk (to match the tie, it was the little things that made the difference). As I tightened the tie around my neck and tucked the pocket silk into the breast pocket of my jacket I couldn't help to think \"Ya got to hand it to 'em, may be the representation of evil as we know it, but Satan knows how to look good.\" I picked up the briefcase that was provided and headed outside to the car that was waiting. \n \nAfter arriving at the offices and going through the usual pleasantries I found myself seated at a table in an a conference room across the table from none other than Satan. \n\"So have you made a decision?\" \n\"Yes, I am glad to accept your position, although I'm not sure about the title of Devil's advocate.\" \n\"Alright then, I'll just need you to sign this contract here\" \n\"Sure, great, got a pen?\" \n\"Buddy, this is me we are talking about, ya sign in blood.\" \n\"Right, of course.\" \nSomewhat reluctantly I pricked my thumb with a needle and signed the paperwork in blood, selling my soul to the devil, but let's be honest, that still makes me a better person than most lawyers. " ]	3
	[WP] Humanity has left the earth but their gods cannot	[ "Today I descend from my lofty pedestal and venture out into a world I care deeply for, yet but distantly recall. Past events have afforded me this luxury, as before my children had left me, I could not traverse this land I created so long ago. Although limited, the constant devotion, undying and sincere, was enough to sustain my spirit far more than any amount of sensory pleasure could provide. In return, I showered them in my blessings and protection as a sign of perpetual gratitude. I loved them deeply. However, now that they are gone on their silver vessels and I have no fear of overwhelming them with my presence, I depart my cloistered palace and experience what is left of this dying world. Perched atop a gently-sloping mountain, my gilded cage is crumbling slowly, reflecting the state of its past inhabitant. I do not have much longer to remember my august creation and would like to see what has come of it, so the ivied columns and cracked balustrades that have become so intimately familiar must now be forsaken. \n\n--\n\nI don't normally write, but I figured I'd give this one a try, I like it. Critique me, please?\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] One night, a man drinks alone on a rooftop, and see another person walk to the edge.	[ "I enjoyed being on the roof of my apartment building. No one ever seemed to come up here making it the perfect place to escape from the hustle and bustle of city life. Plus, the breeze up here actually smelled fresh unlike the streets did, saturated with the sweat of workers and the stench of industry gone bad. \n\n\nWith that said, it was a small surprise to hear someone walk behind me towards the ledge as I was working on my second 40oz. It was just another man, nondescript in the way he looked and moved, clearly from the streets below. But he wasn't on the streets below, he was up here with me and that made me curious about what he was doing. I think I knew, but I wanted to see how far he would go before I did something, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was a morbid curiosity. As he slowly started making his way onto the ledge, the words spilled from my mouth.\n\n\n\"You want a drink?\"\n\n\nHe stopped what he was doing and snapped his head around nearly losing his balance. He didn't know I was here the whole time.\n\n\n\"I said, do you want a drink? I have another bottle here and it's always nice to drink with someone.\"\n\n\nHe looked at me for a few more seconds then walked towards me, taking the bottle I extended to him. He opened it quickly and drank almost half of it without taking a breath, some of it running down his chin and onto his jacket. When he finally finished, I just started talking.\n\n\n\"That bad, huh? Honestly said, I'm not going to stop you. If this is your one means of escape, the only way to end the pain, then by all means I think it's your right to jump. It's your life after all. Just know that at the bottom of that ledge is the end. Fin. Tomorrow will be non-existent. The ripple from your drop of water will cease, it's final effect will be contributing in a miniscule amount to the decades of grime on the street. Ironic since my guess is you want to escape that street grime.\"\n\n\nHe didn't react to what I said, and I didn't want him to. I just wanted him to listen to me. That's it. He finished the rest of the 40oz and threw the bottle over the ledge into the alley, the shatter barely distinguishable from the other sounds coming from below, the broken glass now just another part of the city filth.\n\n\nAs I took in another breath of the fresh breeze, I felt I was done with my little escape from the world below. I turned him and said, \"Thanks for the company.\" Then I left, hoping he made the his right decision.", "She was beautiful, in a sick sort of way. I watched her while at the same time trying not to watch her. Her spindly arms reached out in front of her as if waiting for someone to lift her up and carry her away as she reached them over the vast expanse of the railing. \n\nI took a sip of my beer. It tasted like musty basement mixed with depression. My eyes followed the woman. She reached one slender leg over the railing, then the other, and perched herself on the ledge, arms still outstretched, like she was calling something to her. \n\nShe made a soft cry, then swan-dived over it like a bird preparing for flight. \n\nI leaped from my seat and rushed to the railing. The beer can showered me with liquid as it bounced against the pavement and rolled toward the precipice. I leaned over and stared down at the street below. The sound of air roared through my eardrums until all I could hear was the pounding inside my own head.\n\n\"Somebody help!\"\n\nBut there was no one to help. I looked down all fifteen stories to the asphalt below. There was no body. No sickening crunch as her head made contact with the pavement. No blood splatters. My heart ached. Wet tears rolled down my face and I heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs as I hefted one leg, then the other over the railing.\n\nI reached my arms out into the abyss as if to welcome it as my own. I jumped." ]	2
	[WP] As you begin to leave the basement, someone says "No, wait, don't leave me here..."	[ "\"No, wait, don't leave me here...\"\n\nI knew it. I turned around and spoke:\n\n\"But I have to, it's the only way.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"You know why. There's people in there, and if I let you out, they'll know. And I can't let that happen.\"\n\nIt hasn't changed in years down here. Just boxes. most of them unopened. Who knows what was in them. So much dust. You could get lost or even go blind. No one wants to see that. Pictures and documents mostly, soundbites each more distressing than the last, no one wants to see that. Just be strong and keep it down there.\n\n\n\"Wouldn't it be better to tell the truth? The longer you keep me down here, the harder it will be when I come out, you know.\"\n\nAnd of course there's that issue. How dull. No one wants to see that.\n\n\"Yes but this is important for me. How about just now? Just this one time, and then we'll talk.\"\n\n\"You've said this so many times before that I've lost count. Do you remember when you first put me in here? Before the dust, before the light started to blink and drone?\"\n\nNo arguments here. It gets darker and darker every time I visit. credit where credit is due. At some point I will have to sort this out. But not today. Today is an important day.\n\n\"Just let me out, come on! You know these people, I know these people. If you come clean and ask for forgiveness, I'm sure they will understand.\"\n\n\"I don't care. We do this, for now. You stay here and don't speak. I go out there and do the talking. You always ruin everything.\"\n\nKeep everything down here. That's the right way to do things. Well, no, it isn't, but I never considered myself an exemplary human being, I can make mistakes. And I allow myself to make mistakes because I know I am no exemplary human being.\n\n\"But it isn't my fault, it isn't your fault either, you can get out of this. Make the right decisions and you will never hear from me ever again.\"\n\n\"If I never come back here I won't hear from you again either.\"\n\n\" But you will! Because you always come back. But not if you let me go. No more banging at the door at night while you are trying to sleep. I know I'm the first thing that pops into your head in the morning. I know you well. Let me go, out there, and we can start making things right.\"\n\nIt's been getting a little more intense in the past few months, I'll admit. But this is not the right day to pick a tantrum, dammit. Not today. Not when they're in there. Them, her, everyone.\n\n\"You stay down here as long as I tell you to!\"\n\n\"You know one day it won't be up to you anymore, you do know that, right? There will come a time when I'll just come bursting out, and you won't know when it's coming.\"\n\n\"I don't care.\"\n\n\"You can't keep me buried in here, you know this!\"\n\n\"I can, and I will! Now you will leave me alone, there's people in there, and I need you to shut the fuck up, and let me be myself!\"\n\n\"You can't do that, I'm a part of you!\"\n\nSo I left. and I just stood there for a while. Brush it off, don't worry. It's just a party. Just forget yourself, be cool. Get lost, go blind. It's only a party. One day I'll have to go back in there. Soon, otherwise I'm screwed. Shake your head a little, put on a bright smile, ring that doorbell. It's only you now.\nThe doorbell and my host welcomed me with a beer in his hand.\n\n\"Hey man, you made it! What took you so long?\"\n\n\"Got delayed in my pre-party routine, can't function without it though, I'm a mess without it. Nobody wants to see that.\"\n\n\"Fair enough. Come on in man, leave your troubles at the door. Grab a beer and let's drink til we can't think!\"\n\nSure thing, buddy.\n\n\"How are you anyway?\", he asked.\n\n\"Yeah. I'm doing great, thanks.\"\n\nJust one more day. Next time, I promise.", "As I began to leave the basement, someone says \"No, wait, don't leave me here...\" I stopped dead in my tracks. “Did I just imagine that?” I thought. \n“Let me out of here please” I hear the high pitched helpless voice. \n“Where are you?” \n“I am over here, near the dusty old exercise machine.” It was way in the back of the basement. I approach with caution and unease. \n“I do not see you where are you?”\n“Knock three times on the wood.” \n“What? Why?”\n“Please”\n“Ok”\nKnock…knock… I take a deep breath unsure of what would happen. Knock.\nThere was no explosions or loud noises like I expected just the quiet appearance of a cage in the dark with a skinny young woman inside. \n“Who are you? What are you doing in my basement?” I blurted out without really thinking\nHer response was quick almost rehearsed. \n“I was trapped in here by an evil wizard he locked me in the cage then made it invisible. I have been in here for a century, when this old house was built. I have been able to see the comings and goings of people but it wasn’t until just now that they were able to hear me the power must be wearing off.”\nI gave her an unconvincing stare, not entirely believing this story.\n“and why did this wizard lock you up?” I said not hiding my skepticism.\n“I stole from him, he had a crystal amulet that had the power to destroy the earth. It was made from obsidian carved into a diamond shape with a dark purple amethyst stone in the center.”\n“Right and where is it now” \n“You don’t believe me do you.”\n“Not one silly ass word of it what is really going on?” I felt assured that this was either a nut job or some silly prank. \n“Open the cage and I can show you.”\n“How do I do that?” There was not visible lock or seal just a metal cage, like the kind you’d put a big dog in. \n“to open it you must, put one hand on either side and quickly slid them down the edges.” \nI did exactly what she said. “Ouch” the edges cut me. The crimson blood dripped on to the metal of the cage. I reached over and grabbed a cloth to stop the bleeding. When I turned back around I saw her standing much taller then she looked in the cage. The color of her skin had drastically improved as well. \n“I’m sorry, I lied a bit” she said with a maniacal smile on her face. “The lock needed human blood, but I didn’t think that would work. Thanks though, here let me help.”\nShe reached for my hand brought it to her lips and blew on my cut. Within seconds it was healed and the pain was gone. My skepticism waning fast, I now wanted answers. \nShe was inspecting the floor next to the cage, then walked to the nearest walk and counted 4 paces. When she stopped she drew a large circle on the floor with chalk. I wasn’t sure where she got that from her outfit didn’t look like it had pockets. She drew a small circle with a diamond inside it, the floor where the circle was disappeared and she withdrew something wrapped in a cloth. She slipped the cloths contents in to her hands it was the amulet she described to me. She wasn’t lying or so I thought. \n" ]	2
	[WP] A story that gets darker and more intense each time you read it.	[ "It began with a prompt. A simple writing prompt designed with the intent to scare or frighten the reader. Harmless enough right? So I began. I wrote a tale of some hapless reader coming along and reading through comments on such a prompt hoping for something that might actually reach out to them and touch them, to remind them of their own mortality, or at least make them feel real. But no, no stories of gore or frightening monsters lurking behind the visible fabrics of reality, waiting to burst forth through the reader's imagination were found by the reader. They left, disappointed once again by the lack of content, blissfully unaware. Unaware of the horrors that they and everyone around them constantly keep at bay, simply by not acknowledging their existence. You see, that is their only weakness. Not the reader's. The others, the beings existing outside of the simple 3-dimensional existence we call and assert as reality. That is our power. Only by our belief, no matter how fleeting, varying from an absent-minded daydream to a fully fleshed out novel, can these creatures enter our realm. We are not aware of it, probably because of our own belief that man cannot simply \"create\". That is why when they came we were shocked by how familiar our demise felt. Yet no one truthfully knew how it all began.", "She really hated cooking. She hated a lot of things about her life nowadays. This meal was special though so she didn't mind cooking, since she was preparing a better meal for next time and forever, in a way. She lowered the heat on the stove and stirred the pot a little when the phone starting ringing, About time he rang.. I was starting to get worried she picked up the phone slowly and put it to her ear flush with excitement.\n\n-\"Are you doing it right now?\" She always liked his voice, dark and mysterious and it offered the listener adventure. It's probably why she first was drawn to him, along with who he was. Stephen always had such a boring voice. \n\n-\"Yes. He'll be home soon, expecting his dinner as always.\" She had prepared his favorite, he'd be sure to eat every last morsel. \n\n-\"Alright.. You have everything ready? The money, clothes, papers and all of the rest?\" He had been very useful providing the documents and all. He had some serious connections. Probably thought this was all his idea.\n\n-\"Yes, everything is ready on my end. Are you outside the school right now? Jeffrey should be out any second now.\"\n\n-\"Yeah, I'm outside. The bell just rang, so I'll call you later when it's all done and pick you up. Alright?\"\n\n-\"Works for me. See you in our next life, my love.\" \n\n-\"You take care now, bab-, Wait, did you pay the mechanic for the car in cash? Don't want to leave any monetary footprints\" She had.\n\n-\"Yes, I did everything was taken care of with the car, no one got my name and I was disguised. No need to worry, it will look natural anyway.\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah I know. But you never know with these things, better safe then sorry.\"\n\n\"True. Now, if that was all I better get back to preparing this meal.\"\n\n\"Yeah..\"\n\nShe hung up the phone first. Stephens food was about ready now, and he'd be coming home from work any second now. She missed work. Stephen had insisted one of them should stay at home and be with Jeffrey since a kid needed all the attention and care he could get, and nannies wouldn't cut it. He didn't even offer to be the one to do it, she realized in retrospect. She had come to realize a lot of things she had done she didn't want to do at all. This wasn't one of them though. She wondered if she could be what she was once this was all done, her job was something she missed tremendously; being around all that excitement and danger. She loved it, and being the only woman in the bomb squad came with its perks too.\n\nShe was never into this monogamy thing, but Stephen used to be so exciting too and working together did bring them closer. Thinking you could die any minute does forge bonds. She learned a lot from the job too, for example how a bomb works, timed explosions using power cells from the machine its hooked to internally, dismantling it of course and what materials are used. She was always surprised how easy it was to make one. A bomb could do anything from leveling a city block to a tiny explosion in a engine causing a chain reaction. Skills like that would be in handy anywhere she choose to go.\n\nThe doorbell rang, and then a key being turned in its lock. A habit of his to announce his presence before using the keys. It was the most annoying thing she had ever experienced. He came in, she kissed him on the cheek and hanged his coat beside the hallway, sat him down by the table and she made small talk with him throughout the meal. Said he was feeling sleepy and wanted to take a nap before heading out later in the evening. She said okay. \n\nThen, when she heard the upstairs door close she walked calmly to the hallway fished his car keys out his coat and went down to the basement where she kept the money and the documents. First, she opened the suitcase in which he had provided her with the fake license plate for the car she bought. Then she opened the bag where their fake passports, licenses, registrations, ID's and other essentials for forging an identity lay. She took what she needed, and left.", "I sat in my chair and watched the stripes swirl on for infinity. The way the blue, the white, and the red tangoed left me mesmerized. Funny how the more I watched these colors dance the less I saw them. By now I didn't see the individual colors, really, it was all just a blur. The little chimes clattered against the glass door behind me and Richard's charismatic voice took me out of my trance. I swung around in my low, leather chair and our eyes met.\n\n\"Gilbert, how are you today?\" as he extended his hand in courtesy. I looked at his hand for a bit before I realized I was beginning to create an awkwardness between us. I shook his hand and got up from seat, exchanging a soft smile with him. \"Just the usual\", he said. \n\n\"Take a seat, pal, I kept it warm for ya\", as I patted the leather chair lightly in front of him. He sat down and the leather squeaked as he slid down in it. I threw the cape in the air and watched it fold and waver around him like a ballet of cloth and wind. Once the gown fell, I buttoned it behind his neck and I could see his skin whiten around the collar edges as his face winced in discomfort. \n\n\"Heh, little tight, don't ya think?\" as he plunged his finger between his neck and the collar to help alleviate some of the strangulation.\n\n\"Of course, sir\", and I loosened the gown. \"So a little off the top, huh?\", as I wiped my scissors clean in a white towel. He didn't say anything - he just sunk in his chair, eyes heavy, and nodded that I was correct, as always. I proceeded to then cut his thinning head. Each snip echoed through my head, creating a symphony that even Bach would envy. I lost my self in the sound, snip snip snip, ahh, music to my ears. I thought to myself, 'What would stop me from just accidentally nipping his ear today?'. If I wanted to, I could do anything to him. I could slice his neck right open in a matter of seconds. I am the conductor, could he really blame me for losing myself in my craft? But what did Richard ever do to me? \n\nI excused the thought and proceeded to shave his face, and with each stroke of the razor my mind slipped further. And like that it was all gone. The music came again and it was all I could hear. I finished skimming the foam off his face, and the music alleviated. By now, the calming orchestra left me and I began to coil a hot towel on his face. To think, a little bit of pressure and I could basically water board this poor guy, the third act for the audience, but that wouldn't be the nice thing to do to such a nice guy. So I stood there and watched the steam rise from the towel. I took a deep breath and the music halted as I pulled the towel from his face. \n\nFinally, we finished up and we bickered over the price as usual, both knowing he would only pay me fourteen dollars. I held my breath as I watched him walk out the door, and when he was gone I gave a sigh of relief. After all, I couldn't afford to lose another customer this week. ", "My parents told me it was natural for a child to have an imaginary friend. \"It's just your imagination creating a magical friend for you to play with, in a fictacious world!\" they would say. They warned me though, to know the difference between imagination and the real world, and to never forget which one was which. \n\nSammy the Clown was my best friend when I was Nine years old. I met in in a small park behind my house one day. It wasn't particularly my favorite day, and I was having a tough time dealing with my parents always fighting and yelling and screaming. The only thing that helped calm my mind back then was going to that park. One day, I was sitting on the swing trying to loop around like I always did, when I first met Sammy. He was funny and goofy, and wanted to play any game I could think of. We spent over an hour that day playing tag, and sticks and twigs(a game we created as we went), and throwing the ball around. He told me to meet him at the same park the next day, but told me that we could only play together if I never told anyone else about him. I thought it was a lot more fun to make it a secret so of course, I agreed. \n\nWe played together almost everyday that week. He always was there for me and listened to me tell him all my stupid stories, and jokes. And even listened to the stories that weren't as much fun. Most of the time we would just stay at the park, but sometimes we went into the woods to play as well. We would play hide and seek, and play wrestle, and some other games I didn't think were very fun at first but Sammy told me I would grow to like them the more we played. \n\nI ask my mom one day if it was normal to have a clown as a best friend, and she laughed and asked me who this clown was. I was afraid to tell her about him because I thought for sure he would get made at ruining our secret and stop coming to play with me. So I told her he was my imaginary friend. She smiled at me and asked me if he was there with us right then, and I told her yes to make her keep smiling. \n\nSammy always had a solution for everything, and it was amazing how well he listened to me. He was the one who finally helped me get rid of my bully at school. He told me to put a couple of thumb tacks on his seat and he would stop bothering me for at least a week, so I did. He also told me that I would never get in trouble for it as long as I kept my mouth shut, and he was right about that too. He also helped me stop Milly Ray from teasing me about my pimples all the time. He told me all I had to do, was sneak into her home at night and cut of her hair. I found out where she lived the very next night and did it. I would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn't for her pesky brother who saw me climb out the window and ratted me out.\n\nI kept my mouth shut as long as I could when my parents got the call from her parents and sat me down to talk to me. I denied everything, but in the end I knew I couldn't hold out any longer. They were yelling and screaming more than usual, more so at each other than at me. \"Look at what kind of son you've raised.\" my Father would scream, and my mom would cry and yell back at him, then at me. Finally, I couldn't take their yelling anymore, so I told them about Sammy. I told them that he always met me at the park behind our house, and I told them that he was real and not imaginary at all. \n\nThey were horrified, and my mom started crying a little louder. In less than twenty minutes, there were red and blue lights all around our house and police officers inside of it. They asked me everything about Sammy, and my parents told me I had to tell them everything. I told them about what he looked like, and the games we would play. I even told them about the games we would play in the woods, because at that point I was scared that the policemen would take me away from my house forever if I lied. \n\nThe next couple of days were a haze, and there were always blue and red lights coming to our house, and policemen sitting in our kitchen. Then one day, my mom came up to me and told me, \"Sammy won't be bothering me anymore\" and that, \"He was going away for a very long time.\" Later that day, I had to go to the police station and they showed me a man standing in a room in a clown suit that looked a lot like Sammy's. They told me that this was the man asked me to be sure it was him. It wasn't sammy of course, but I just wanted everything to end, so I told them it was. \n\nThat night, I locked myself up in my room and tried to cry myself to sleep. I was sure that I would never see Sammy again, because I had ruined our secret. I was just about to finally go to sleep, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. When I looked up, Sammy was sitting on the edge of my bed, smiling like he always did, looking as cheerful as ever. He told me he was sad that I had ruined our secret, but he still liked playing with me. I told him about what my parents said, and he laughed and asked me if I liked playing with my parents more, or with him. Of course I said him! He listened to me, and never yelled at me, and never screamed anywhere around me like they did. He told me that we could play together again, and that we could play together for always. I just had to put Mommy and Daddy to sleep for while. When I asked him how long, he told me, \"long enough\". \n\nWe went down to the kitchen and I grabbed the sleeping stick, like Sammy told me. All I had to do was poke my parents with the sleeping stick and they would go into a long slumber. I was having second thoughts, but Sammy told me, \"When they sleep, they will no longer fight with each other!\" or \"Yell at you, or anyone else! They will be happy once again!\" I went into their rooms, and was about to do it, when again, I had second thoughts. I tried to turn around and walk away, but Sammy was standing in the way, and started Laughing and dancing, not letting my go through. My mom got out of bed behind me and asked me, \"who are you talking to sweetheart?\" and I told her that of course, I was talking to Sammy who was standing right next to us. She told me, \"There is no one here baby. Please tell me what's wrong?\" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my dad waking up from his bed, and I knew a fight was coming. I knew they would yell at me, and even worse, yell at sammy. So as quickly as I could, I poked them both with the magic stick. And I poked them a few more times to make sure that they really went to sleep. \n\nIt felt like a lot of work just so I could keep my best friend. But my parents did tell me, it's completely natural to have an imaginary friend. And now, Sammy and I can play together forever. \n\n----\n\nCheck out my sub for more! https://www.reddit.com/r/Occasionallyoccupied/" ]	4
	[WP] Almost all of humanity has suddenly gained superpowers due to reasons unknown. You're one of the few exceptions, and have remained powerless.	[ "The sun shined in through the opening of the tent. I turned over in my bed roll and heard a radio news station playing faintly in the background. On the other side of the tent I found the other bed rolls empty.\n\nI suppose now would be a good time to get up.\n\nOutside the tent my younger brother Jason, his girlfriend Julie, and my friend Jackson were all huddled around the radio. \n\n\"Yes, this morning we're had several reports of various individuals exhibiting superpowers, with the several more reports coming in by the minute.\" a male newscaster said.\n\nHis female co-worker chimed in, \"in fact, we have a few cases of superpowers in our own studio. In fact, this morning I found I could shapeshift! When I went to brush my hair, it moved by itself into the exact hairdo I wanted!\"\n\nMy brother turned to his girlfriend and exclaimed, \"hey, that's cool! Wonder if we have powers.\"\n\n\"Let's see if I can fly!\" she said.\n\nShe stood up on the rock she was sitting on and jumped into the air. She fell to the ground, as normal. \n\n\"Well,\" said Jackson, \"I've always wanted to have heat vision like Superman. That would be so useful. I could use it to protect myself, cook things. I could also write things in stone, literally!\"\n\nHe turned to look at a tree and strained as hard as he could. It seemed like he was gonna pop a vein or something.\n\n\"Well,\" said Jason, \"it seems like there are a ton of people who have powers. I doubt between all four of us, none of us got powers. That seems unlikely. Let's keep trying.\"\n\nThey all flailed around and strained themselves trying to see if they had powers. Pyrokinesis, animal control, mind reading, everything. Julie even got Jason to (reluctantly) hit her with a branch to see if she got invulnerability. She did not have invulnerability to say the least. \n\nThis experimentation went on until the afternoon. Then, we heard rustling in the trees approach us. A barefoot man that looked like he was a hiker was jumping through the trees. Well, I suppose he wasn't hiking anymore, so he wasn't a hiker. He seemed to stick to the sides of trees and could swing from branch to branch with one arm. He was yelling in joy as swung towards us. \n\nThen, he fell. He tried to jump and grip the side of a tree, but he failed. The four of us rushed over to help him. \n\n\"That was weird...\" the man muttered.\n\nYea, monkey men are pretty weird I thought.\n\n\"How come I didn't stick to the tree? It worked on all the other trees. I mean, look!\"\n\nHe walked over to the tree he was on previously. He tried to jump up and stick to it like a gecko. He slipped and fell. \n\n\"Wait a second guys,\" Julie said, \"you guys remember that one guy in that one superhero movie? I think it was the X-Guys or something? The one who made other people's powers not work? Maybe one of us is like that guy?\"\n\n\"Huh,\" I said, \"that's actually a really good point. One of us could be negating the powers of everyone else here. We should try walking away and seeing if the others get powers. Here, I'll go first.\"\n\nAs I walked away, I looked back. I saw the others watching me, and then, it happened. Julie started to float up in the air. Jackson's eyes began to glow. Jason had a bird land on his shoulder and chirp at him and he chirped back. ", "When they brought me to the compound it was \"for my own safety\",\n\nI was just a normal chick and I was getting hasty,\n\nWaiting for my powers like waiting for an executioner,\n\nEverybody else playing ruler, getting stupider.\n\nWhile people like me went into protective custody,\n\nFrom the flying, freezing, fast healing, psychic monstrosities,\n\nThe crime-was rampant, the fear-was worse, \n\nAnd me-myself am feeling cursed,\n\nAs almost everyone enjoys their brand new super powers,\n\nI'm stuck in purgatory with all the non super cowards." ]	2
	[WP] In the city of Tirus, September is always a month of 30 days of heavy nonstop rain. Write a story about preparations made in August.	[ "Tirus had begun as a city of refugees and malcontents. Uncertain populations wary of the ever blurring lines between man and machine, longing for past days lived in the mundane reality outside of cyber space, seeking an end to eugenics, wanting a return to the spirit of exploration before mankind drew itself back to its homeworld, and chafing under the governance of artificial intelligences all sought a new home. They found one hundreds of light years from the decadent Earth. The planet followed a tidally locked orbit around a massive red giant, one hemisphere perpetually bathed in radioactive heat. The would be settlers named their new home Libertas and planned to settle a strip of land making up a temperate zone between the two sides of the planet. A veritable war of debates was made before permission was granted to activate the Einstein-Rosen Aether Bridge still in orbit around the Earth. The settlers arrived at Libertas and founded the first and, so far, only city, Tirus.\n\nDue to many small errors made in the remote scanning of Libertas, it was entirely a surprise when the first radioactive rains struck in the ninth month of Libertas's forty two month calendar. Much of the population initially survived due to the shielding set up to deal with the high winds that carried radiation from the light hemisphere but most of the livestock and newly sown crops were lost, including some of the gene stocks, due to miscalculations on soil absorption and faulty sheltering of farming equipment. What followed was a period of radiation poisoning, starvation, and sometimes lawlessness.\n\nIt quickly became apparent that the rains, due to an unusual moisture cycle, came every year in the ninth month. Measures were implemented very quickly but the damage had been done. The population of Tirus would long deal with the genetic ramifications of their first settlement.\n\nThe tradition of the Rain Festival sprang up in later years, first as a spiteful joke and later as a true celebration. The rains are now processed and cleansed to supplement Tirus's constantly growing demand for water. Every eighth month foil streamers hang in the streets and each Friday of the month households all over the city host Remembrance Dinners, with the final Friday being called Preparation Day where gifts are exchanged.\n\nThere is, of course, a darker side, much like Libertas has herself, to the Rain Festival. Every year Tirus's mutant population faces violence and increased discrimination. There isn't a burough that doesn't report beatings and even lynchings during the Festival. Many citizens point to the fact that such actions were once unofficially sanctioned by the government during darker chapters of the city's history. Indeed, every year groups of men, women, and even children are caught stockpiling hand to hand weapons for the annual so called \"Mutaneering.\" With elections in the following month after the Festival, rhetoric and hyperbole stir up many members of the population even further than the Festival would alone.\n\nIn mutant quarters of the city, the month's preparations are quite different. It is a time to be indoors and to keep a low profile. This is often a period of increased unemployment for mutants which only adds to the agitation of the city's more prejudiced population. Many households stockpile food during the month, forgoing the Friday dinners. There has also been a crackdown in recent years on any sort of mutant stockpiling for fear of an \"uprising,\" a draconian set of laws harkoning back to less liberal days.\n\nThe month of August is two sided, depending wholly on the genetic lottery. Trepidation for one set of population and celebration for the other.\n\n", "Tirus was a city that floated, if needed be.\n\nPreparations began long before September, intensifying in August. Notices were put up all around the city about the importance of waterproofing, a garish shock poster of a man standing on the roof of his half-sunken house, swimming in blue. Officials flitted from house to house to test leaks and climb up onto roofs for inspections. Families all chipped in their effort: patching up corners, hanging tarp, reinforcing the raft that laid underneath the house.\n\nA lucrative market grew for boats — carpenters made brisk business in order to tide themselves over the month, sometimes even fashioning boats from their hoarded stock well into the rainy season. The latest fashion swung abruptly towards wet hairstyles, and raincoats: flared, buttoned cloaks made out of a tarp-like material, a formless thing as drab as the impending skies of grey.\n\nFlags were hung up outside buildings to distinguish themselves from the others in the thick of rain: the water-lily motif of the floating teahouse, the iron-black hammer of the blacksmith, and the gilded, elaborate royal crests and noble emblems of the rich. Towels stacked in neat, fluffy columns at the entrances of establishments, waiting for their rain-soaked guests.\n\nWhen the rains came the houses were thrown into disarray, turning into mobile homes that drifted on a huge lake. A glowing, lamp-lit market alight with camaraderie and the thunderous pelting of rain.\n\nAt the turn of the month the skies cleared, the houses landing wherever they wished, next to new neighbours as the water dried up and drained away. \n\nThe rain was the lifeblood of the people of Tirus, water running in their veins like blood. But whatever life the rain gave, it took away, too.\n\nThe first day of sunlight brought the people out into the streets, into the town square where they stood to remember those they have lost in the Great Rain of last month, and the years before — their shoes gleaming wet with rainwater.\n", "The child's eyes were huge as her grandfather spoke. She had heard this story countless times before, but it never tired her to listen again. He always put a few new details in each time, varying the timeless tale.\n\n\"And so August came,\" he continued, voice rough but comfortable. \"And the city whipped into a frenzy. Farmers erected roofs over their vast crop-lands - an expensive endeavour, to be sure, but one that had proved absolutely necessary. The government helped to subsidize the venture, naturally. Carpenters and metal-workers reinforced these roofs, as well as those covering public buildings, power plants and the homes of those who could afford it. Last rose the sorcerors - because remember, Tirus was once a city of both magic and science, sparks and metal. They wove protective spells to cover the entire city, to make water simply slide off surfaces, to lessen the amount that would fall. As August approached its end, they worked tirelessly with engineers to convert streets into canals. It was a frantic time, and the only truly happy ones were those selling boats to replace the automobiles, those selling umbrellas, and children like yourself.\"\n\nThe little girl clapped excitedly. \"Go on, grampa,\" she urged. \"How come we don't have September Rain anymore?\"\n\n\"It still rains in September,\" he said teasingly. \"Why, it rained just the other day. You were stomping in puddles and got your dress completely soaked.\"\n\n\"You know what I mean!\" she exclaimed. \n\nHis eyes twinkled at her. \"Oh but you already know why...won't it bore you to hear it again?\"\n\nShe shook her head vehemently.\n\nHe chuckled. \"Well, I'll tell it again, then,\" he said. \"Despite all the protective measurements, the September Rain always took its toll, in both resources and lives. And so all the great wizards and witches convened and brainstormed a simple yet powerful spell that would get slow the Rain down, so it falls the same in September as it does in all other months. And because they required the voices of innocents, they asked the children of Tirus to sing the simply rhyme, once a day, for all of September. And it worked, though at a price. The loss of September Rain coincided with the decline of magic. Maybe it was a direct effect. Maybe it was because of the increased progress of technological advance. We may never know.\"\n\nHe grew silent and only spoke again when she prodded him with: \"the rhyme, grampa.\" He smiled at her, and she smiled back. They both began to recite what every being in Tirus knew, by heart:\n\nRain, rain, go away \nCome again another day \nAll is wet, all is gray \nRain, rain, won't you leave \nAnd let us play? \nWe miss the sun, we miss the blue \nThat warmth, so deep, so true \nWe'll see each other another day \nRain, rain, please go away \n" ]	3
	[WP] A lifetime of discipline forsaken in a single moment.	[ "\"Gather around my little dragons.\"\n\nNing Wu watched his brothers and sisters take seats upon the cushions in front of their instructor, Magister Loodrumm. He was old, very old, perhaps as old as the Emperor himself. That is what the other children said at least. Ning Wu looked at the other children, he was the second oldest at eight. Yanice looked back at him. Her pale green eyes had worry in them. She was the youngest of the eighteen of them, only six.\n\n\"Aren't you going to sit for the lesson, brother?\" \n\nNing Wu turned to her. Brother. She had called him brother, but they were only half siblings. Her mother was Draca Afya, Brood Mother of Clan Faerin. Ning Wu had only met her a week ago. \n\nHe smiled to hide his doubts before taking a seat beside her. Magister Loodrumm had already begun talking about the history of the different clans.\n\n~~~\n\n\"Enough! You strike with fear! With hesitation! Why!? The target is paper and wood!\" The young boy snapped to attention, his spear at his side.\n\n\"No excuses, Zhu!\" He shouted automatically. Ning Wu sighed silently. Ricktor was corrected so much on his martial training that he barely listening anymore. He just snapped to attention and apologized. He did Clan YDdraig shame. He lacked the strength of the Molten Lord he claimed to represent. But Ning Wu's judgment was cut short when Zhu Kiran spotted him watching.\n\n\"Does the little Bahamut think he is so good that he can skip training as well?\" His voice was full of contempt. \"Draco Ricktor's handling of a spear does not concern yours, now does it?\"\n\n\"No, Zhu!\" Ning Wu sounded off before returning to his drills.\n\n~~~\n\n\"Rise for the Dracorex!\" \n\nThe group of twelve rose in perfect unison and bowed their heads. \"My Children...\"\n\nNing Wu raised his head and looked upon his father, Dracorex. Emperor of the Draco Dynasty. Power Incarnate. The Dragon himself. He looked feeble and old to Ning Wu. His hair was nearly gone, mere white wisps. His skin spotted with age. He even walked with a cane. It was little wonder why he longer did public appearances. This was a special occasion though. The twelve here were the final candidates. The First born son of every Brood Mother, with the exception of Draco Vance, of course. Vance was Draca Mira's second born son. The first born of Clan Hydra had died during the final trial of their primary instruction. Vance had to step up and take his place in Dragon School, but as the second born, Ning Wu did not consider him a contender. None of them were. None of them could stand up to Clan Bahamut. \n\n~~~\n\n\"I see it in your eyes.\" Dracorex said slowly. His voice was hoarse. Ning Wu maintained his straight face. \"You do not need to hide it from me boy. I can feel your contempt. I feed off of it. You think me old and weak.\" The Emperor smiled a distinctly not toothy smile. \"You're right you know. I am old and weak.\"\n\nThat caught Ning Wu's attention. Nothing had phased him all through training, not even when they named his Dragon Lord, heir to the Dynasty, the next Dracorex. But hearing the old man admit his weakness, that stumped him.\nI'm one hundred sixty three.\" Dracorex said laughing. \"I'm allowed to be old and weak now. I set the friggin record for being old. You think my father made it this far? Ha! I became Emperor when he was seventy two. The old Dragon still had a full head of hair!\"\n\nNing Wu frowned. He had expected to have the Birthing Ritual immediately and yet it been two weeks and still stood at the Emperor's side as a mere heir, not the next Dracorex. He had spent the last twenty years training every day for this moment and the old man had the nerve to live on.\n\n\"Want to see, how I stayed this healthy so old. It's not just the Dragon blood.\"\n\n~~~\n\nNing Wu's stomach wretched and he collapsed to the ground as he vomited. \n\n\"The magic is dying in this world!\" The Emperor yelled over the sound of the machine. \"Dragon blood and shadowy rituals cannot sustain the Empire any longer!\" \n\n\"But the people! The Draco Dynasty is full of them! And Blood Magic never dwindles. A few souls here and there and you stay young as long as you want!\"\n\nNing Wu opened his eyes and looked back to the Emperor. Behind him were his brothers and sisters, lifeless, soulless. \n\n\"Don't take it personal, boy. The people are there to serve the Emperor. That's what its all about! You were chosen among the best of my children, who are of course the best in the world. \n\n\"Come, take your destiny. Let their deaths bring you victory. Become the next Emperor!\"\n\nThe Emperor offered Ning Wu the ceremonial dagger. He could feel the weight of the other souls inside of it. One stab and he could kill the old emperor, absorbing all his power, and all those he had before him into the knife. With it he could ascend to the throne.\n\n\"The whole Dynasty...\" He began. \"The whole Dynasty only exists to perpetuate the Dragon. None of what we were taught...About being strong military leaders... About leading our people to Victory. Keeping the Demon Army at bay... Never bowing to the Council... That was all...\"\n\n\"Old stuff.\" The emperor answered. \"Curriculum from before magic started dying. A farce to keep the charade up. The Dynasty doesn't know things have changed. If the cattle understand it was to be slaughtered, it would not remain at the slaughter house.\"\n\nNing Wu clutched the dagger tightly. \n\n\"I have lived long enough in the fragile body, it is time I take the new one. Do not fear. You will remain, you won't even notice the change. It takes years for our consciousness to merge, for you to become the true Dragon.\"\n\n\"But why?\" Ning Wu asked. \"I wanted to be the Emperor of the Draco Dynasty. To lead my people to greatness. Why would I suffer so much just to become the king of his own food pile?\" Ning Wu slammed the knife to the ground and stomped it with his foot. The glass blade cracked.\n\n\"No!\" The Emperor yelled. \"That blade cannot be reforged! With out it the Draco Dynasty will fall!\"\n\nNing Wu's eyes narrowed. \"It already has.\" He stomped the knife once more, feeling it shatter beneath him. He expected an explosion or something, but only the faint sighing of the released souls came and it was drowned out by the machines. Ning Wu closed eyes and waited for the Royal guard to strike him down. The Emperor had no use for him now, he was unafraid.", "A continuation of a story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3ew076/wp_youre_on_a_double_date_with_an_interesting/ctja4md)\n\n\nSilence settled over the smoky beach-side villa as OSS Agent Charles Hendricks slipped through the foyer, stepping over bloodied guards and shattered pottery. He cursed his luck as he reloaded the silenced High Standard HDM, certain that his target was now completely aware of his presence.\n\n\nThe palatial villa sat on a rising swell of beach several miles from Col de Sacremento, nestled among rolling fields and palm forests of Southwestern Uruguay, and it had taken Agent Hendricks several months to locate. However, considering the high level of security, and the German sub-machine guns now scattered amongst the remnants of the decidedly tacky foyer, he was in the right place. Charles cocked the pistol’s slide and ducked off into an alcove. He could hear frantic footsteps from the mansion’s second story, where his target surely waited. \n\n\nThe stairs would be watched by now, and he needed another route. Mentally scouring the villa’s blueprints, and running through several alternative entrances that he had identified, Charles headed back through the foyer and into the harsh South American sun. The smoldering hulk of his Buick lay where he had left it, partially embedded in the fountain which defined the circular driveway, surrounded by the bodies of several guards, and his unfortunate translator. He winced, knowing the heat he would take for crashing the expensive coup. He really needed to work on his German.\n\n\nIn a low crouch, Agent Hendricks wound his way around the adobe-walled mansion, the integrated silencer of his pistol leading the way. In a sense he missed the war, where combat was much more routine, the enemies and battle lines, politics and allegiances well defined. This was something new for the experienced agent, a grey area bordered in red tape. \n \n\nAround the side of the villa sat a squat, glass-walled solarium housing a variety of exotic flowering plants. Holstering the pistol, Charles jumped, gripped the gutter and hoisted himself onto its glass roof, careful to place his weight over the metal lattice between the panes. Up and over the peaked roof, he spied the trailings of the art-nouveau deck which framed the length of the mansion’s southern face, the Rio de la Plata glistening beyond a well-manicured lawn, past which he could barely make out the thin brown line that Buenos Aires. A fishing boat drifted with the waves just off shore, and Charles smiled. \n\n\nThe blueprints had indicated a cluster of recently fortified rooms along the balcony, which Charles believed held his prey’s office. Years of intense OSS training saw Agent Hendricks slink onto the deck without a sound and redraw his pistol. The painted ceramic-tile expanse was empty, save for an assortment of whicker lounge chairs and a potted palm, and Charles thanked his luck. Crouching below the wide salt-stained windows he made his way down the deck.\n\n\nThree windows down he heard something; hushed voices. The thick adobe walls muffled the conversation, but what Charles could make out sounded conclusively German. He leaned back against the wall and retrieved a small plate mirror from a coat pocket. Below the window, Charles slowly lifted the mirror, tilting it to survey the room.\n\n\nThree men in black shirts and sub-machine guns, security, standing against the far wall. Two more seated to their left, fiddling with something on a low table. A stuffed tiger in full leap near the window. Gaudy impressionist paintings. A lithe local girl wearing little more than rags reclining on a couch and eating an apple. A large oak desk. A fat man in a white suit examining... Charles replaced the mirror in his pocket. There he was, his target, after months of agonizing preparation. Secretly he lived for these moments.\n\n\nFive guards, ten rounds in his magazine. Running through his options, Charles settled on a well-tested approach. Searching through his backpack he retrieved a Japanese twin-barreled flare gun, a trophy from his pre-OSS tour in the Pacific, and checked its payload. Leaving the pack on the deck, Charles hoisted both of his pistols and took a deep, steeling breath. The next few moments were a blur.\n\n\nThe butt of his HDM smashed through the antique plate glass, followed by a vicious flare aimed at the group of three guards. Four muffled gunshots sent the other two slumping in their chairs. He dove through the window, using his momentum to fall into a roll onto the smooth bamboo floorboards. The three remaining guards were clawing at their seared eyes. He heard the local girl shriek, and the fat man bellow a stream of German obscenities. One of the guards managed to lift his MP44 and spray the southern wall of the office, shattering glass and shredding wooden shutters. Taking cover behind the stuffed tiger, Charles felt several bullets hit the animal too close to his head. The rain of fire stopped and he heard the guard struggling to reload the weapon. Spinning out from his cover, Charles sent three perfectly aimed shots into the stunned group. Three rounds left. Where’s the girl.\n\n\nThe flare fizzled and died, leaving a smoking crater in the chest of one of the dead guards. Charles rose and aimed the gun at the fat man, who had shifted from vulgarities to a strange mewling. “How many more are there?” he growled, but if the German understood the question he showed no sign. He was trembling, blinking away tears from the phosphorus flare, and the strange vacuum tube in his hand beat a rapid pace on a leather writing mat. \n\n\nNot taking his eyes off of the elusive former Nazi scientist, Charles took a slim brown envelope from beneath his coat and slid it across the table. He nodded to the German, and then to the paper, “Lesen”. The document within detailed, in German, the intricacies of Operation Paperclip, the promise of political immunity and a hefty stipend, in return for contribution to the American scientific community. It outlined other notable minds already signed on, Van Braun , Eckert, Stuhlinger. The German opened the envelope, slipped a pair of slim reading glasses onto his sunburned nose, and skimmed the page. His eyes grew wide, and he looked up to Agent Hendricks with a hint of skepticism. \n\n\n“Wirst du kommen?” Charles asked in halting German. The former Nazi chewed his lip and looked around the lavish office, took a deep breath, and nodded. “Gut, decke schnell. Fünf minute.” The German vaulted from his chair, grabbed a large suitcase from a closet nearby and began to pack. As the German filled the suitcase, Charles walked back to the deck, lifted the flare gun and fired the remaining flare over the ocean. He watched as the fishing boat powered up and spun towards the beach.\n\n\nSeveral minutes later the pair hurried down the stairs and onto the rear patio. The sun was glaring now, reflecting off the calm waters as the fishing boat cut a sharp wake. The German, lugging the suitcase and scrambling to keep up with Agent Hendricks, stopped as the boat slid up to the shore and dropped a cleverly disguised boarding ramp.\n\n\nA well-tanned man, dressed in khaki shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, stepped onto the beach. “Charley, my boy, so good to see you.” OSS Agent Rodger Parker seemed quite at home in the lazy beachfront community as he casually strode towards the two men. Charles glanced over the other agent’s shoulder as several poorly disguised, and obviously armed, soldiers exited the converted landing craft.\n\n\n“Agent Parker, this is Doctor August Schulze.” The tanned agent nodded to the German and motioned for the suitcase, which Schulze willingly handed over. “Easy take, Hendricks?” Charles shook his head and unconsciously glanced back to the villa. “Not so much, the guards didn’t take so kindly to my translator.” Agent Parker nodded, “Damn shame. Well, let’s get this kraut on the boat, it’s too damn hot to be out under the sun.” Agent Parker motioned for the German to follow, and Charles fell in line behind him. \n\n\nAt the water’s edge Agent Parker ushered the scientist onto the boat, and handed to suitcase to one of the soldiers. “That’s quite a lot of firepower you brought, Parker, could have used the help back there.” Charles remarked, eyeing obvious bulge beneath one of the soldier’s sun shirts. He turned to the man, “What’s your name, soldier?” The man looked to Parker nervously, and merely smiled. “Soldier? Name and rank.” Again the guard smiled and nodded.\n\n\nParker, who was watching he German settle on a bench and don a life jacket, nodded. “Ya, I was gonna talk to you about that, Hendricks.” He turned around, a pistol leveled at Charles’ chest. “Sorry, old sport, but the world is changing. The war’s over, and its every man for himself now.” Instinctual, Charles started to draw his own pistol as one of the guards shouted something in, what, Russian?\n\n\nHe heard a gunshot, and a sparks exploded behind his eyes as the world went dark. He hit the sand, tasted salt, smelled gunpowder, seared flesh and diesel fuel, and heard the boat roar to life before slipping into unconsciousness.\n" ]	2
	[WP] She doesn't know you're talking about her	[ "I can’t believe I left the head phones and food behind. I was in a rush, but that’s no excuse. I don’t know which I was more upset about; a two hour train ride without music or a movie? That’s horrible. But I was damn hungry, too. I’d been working all day feeding others, with no time to feed myself. Strange how that works, spending 12 hours in a kitchen and realizing, as you crawl into bed, that you haven’t had a bite to eat.\n\n“Last call for MARC train 198 to Edgewood, Aberdeen, Perryville. Last call, boarding at Gate B.” I heard it just as I was stepping out of FYE, so I ran over to the Self-Serve Ticket Kiosk.\n\nYour Card Was Not Recognized.\n\nOh. Well that’s swell. I run down the line and tell the first guy I come to that I need a ticket. “I’m not open. Where are you going?”\n\nPerryville. The train that’s boarding right now.\n\n“Oh. Yeah, you need to get on that asap. I’m not open though. She can help you.”\n\nOkay. Thanks for wasting my time. I move to the next lady.\n\n“Where are you going?”\n\nStill Perryville. Weird, right?\n\n“11 dollars, please.”\n\nAs I scrawl some name I’ve never seen onto my credit card receipt, she informs me that I “better run, cuz that train’s leaving.”\n\nSo I do. I run, and get on the train. A couple seconds later the doors close. I check my phone: it’s leaving three minutes early, I realize as I throw my shit onto an open set of seats. The woman across from me… is pretty attractive, actually. This time I hadn’t even sought out a good-looking travel companion, it just kind of happened. Anyway, she looks up at me, confused. Maybe she was expecting to know me. I ask her if the seat is taken.\n\n“No, go ahead.”\n\nAnd now I’m sitting awkwardly across from her, writing about her so I can look busy.\n\nIt’s cool though. She’s getting off at this stop.", "She had the thousand yard stare, the elderly woman in her chair. It rocked like a cradle, calming her as it would a baby. She needed days like this.\n\n\"Do you remember Diana? Princess Diana?\"\n\nMary also needed days like this, probably more than the elderly woman herself. Mary couldn't speak at all on the other days - when the elderly woman would be sprawled on the floor, moaning and curling her bony fingers into the carpet weakly. Mary had to go sit in her car on those days, and stare at the steering wheel and wonder what she had accomplished by visiting.\n\n\"And how I won that competition when I was a child? I wrote a poem about how pretty she was.\"\n\nThose were the elderly woman's bad days. She would moan something like 'I don't wanna go school today!'. Mary triggered these incidents sometimes, but today was an alright day. Mary wouldn't say good because these meetings were always painful.\n\n\"So we met her. I've got the picture here, look.\"\n\nShe had a crappy boyfriend a few months back - told her what he believed to be the truth during one of their tiffs.\n\n\"She doesn't know you're talking about her!\"\n\nBut Mary knew better - even better than her sisters.\n\nThe elderly woman seemingly didn't notice the picture at all. Mary kept it steady in her line of sight, looking upon her with hope.\n\nOf course she does.\n\nThe elderly woman's eyes shifted ever so slightly.\n\nShe's my mother.", "And there she is again. She's that beauty that is not on the mark of, lets say, a Hollywood starlet or some greek goddess. I mean to me, she's more than that. Her beauty is tangible. You look at her and you could say to yourself, I'd like to watch her grow older. I'd like to be part of that. \n\nShe struts, but not like Madonna on the stage, but more like a woman whose shoes are too big for her. Her heels, I mean. Her click clacks sort of give score to her almost face-planting strut.\n\nIts adorable. I have a hard time focusing on the coffee on my table. This is where we met on Fridays. After work, we both grab some coffee and discuss important matters at hand like why in the world do paper clips exist? There's a stapler, use it. If you don't want to staple the papers, then , use a folder. Why are Velcro shoes not a thing anymore? Why do half-gallons of milk come in both plastic and cardboard? And whats wrong with ice cubes in your milk? \n\nWe have a fetish for milk. We both believe we were once cows in our past life.\n\nBut these past few meets I've been going on about this, girl...I've met. I've been asking her advice on how, how I should tell this girl I'm in love with her. She's been a good sport about it. Really supportive, she knows about my last relationship and how I vowed to be single for twenty years or at least until I've decided what to do with the rest of my life. Love is or was an after thought. But then this girl she just sort of collided into my world.\nBut this whole thing is that whole speculative question that 'everyone' has when it comes to something taboo or possibly criminalizing; that 'I have this friend who...' and so on. Friend. Right...So I go on about this 'friend' this 'girl'...\n\nGwen, the beauty goddess whose heels are too big for her: the one I'm meeting, orders up. She smiles at me, with her iPhone ear buds still in her ears. She's totally listening to This American Life. I told her to listen to the episode about the kid who grew up in a family whose parents fought in front of them and even in public, and as a result this kid has a hard time keeping his honest opinions to himself. Even going as far as telling a girl why she should date him. The good things about it and also the bad because, he's fair and honest. I'm almost positive she's listening to it. She has that look, like she's trying to multitask but everyone knows that listening to This American Life requires your full attention, because its just so fucking good...especially that episode.\n\nFrankly speaking; I'm really a fucking wreck. I'm nervous, because I told her that I'd produce a picture of this girl and I--well...'I have this friend whose in love with this girl, but she doesn't know it, and she thinks he's talking about some other girl...\". So i figured I'd just come out with it. Just tell her. Finally I can reveal the big secret and kill this insomnia inducing, self destructing feeling that has been sitting inside me like a Mentos in a cola bottle. \n\nI prepped myself of this moment. I wrote down everything I was going to say. Everything I wanted to clear up. I just wanted to be undone with this ridiculous fear...fear of being rejected. Fear of her sitting back, shocked and with her cute little jaw slightly opened, trying to find a way of telling me sweetly how she just 'thinks I'm better off her friend'...Friend-zone...someone bring in the firing squad. But nevertheless, I've come prepared for either telling her my deepest secret and exposing the truth like some whistle blower and then in the end getting the girl, or that total soul sucking awkward.............................. silence. Load the rifles.\n\nGwen makes her way to my table, which I've set up for two, by that I mean I've put my jacket on the opposite chair. And which she usually ends up using like a pillow, because our conversations tend to go for a few hours and she takes my cotton lining jacket and bundles it up and rests her elbows on it. I feel useful, to her, I can provide comfort. I have comfortable jackets. I can be her elbow comfort provider. Gwen gets about a foot from the table and suddenly her phone rings. She stops, wobbles a bit, her too big heels, then answers her phone. She holds up her index finger, 'one'...one what?\n\n'One second, Dennis'...She turns and goes back out.\n\nOdd.\n\nNormally she's all mine. This is our time, usually. She stands outside the coffee house entrance, well- trying to stand. She's compensating...pacing slightly while on her phone. I figure this is the best moment to recollect my thoughts. Think about the fight. Think about the punches I may have to pull, remind myself she's got a good left hook. One glove says 'Boyfriend/ future husband' the other says 'Idiot'. That's the left glove. She keeps the right, at a distance, protecting her grill, her semi-symmetrical face.\nI have this horrible feeling that 'idiot' is going to be jabbed at me more times than I can defend against. \n\nI'm not even a boxer. I know nothing about boxing. But I'm thinking this is going down like a Tyson fight. Multi-million dollar fight night. Gwen versus Dennis, the bout for Gwen's heart. \"Standing in the right corner weighing in at 160 pounds, 1 heart break, Zero lays, and five friend-zones in a lifetime!!!\" \n\nOr maybe Gwen is the winning belt? Shit, I dunno now...I gotta let it go.\n\nGwen is still pacing, Her 'One second' finger is in her left ear. She's forgotten about me. I'm almost thinking maybe i should go out and see if everything's okay. But then she laughs. whats' she laughing at? Do I make her laugh like that? I think I do...Right? I gotta think back. I do recall a few times. I'm funny. I got jokes...whats the difference between a snowman and a snowwoman? Snowballs.\n\nShe laughed really hard at that one. I remember that...\n\nI can't take it, I gotta get her attention...this is our time. Its precious to me. Its the best time I've ever wasted with someone. And now, this wasting time I enjoy wasting is being wasted in a way I don't like. I stand up and take a step forward and she finally turns to me...Mouths \"I'm so sorry\". \n\nOkay, she hadn't forgotten about me. I see her finally ending the phone call. \n\nI'm nervous again. Shit. Okay...this time its real. And I didn't even go over my strategy...Gwen reaches the table and finally sits.\nI try to act cool and not at all concerned. \n\n'that was a long phone call' I say. Wow...totally smooth Dennis. Nice going.\n\n'its my friend, Andrea. She's actually gonna stop by. You don't mind right?' She says. I'm freaaakking the fuck out right now. Of course I mind! OF COURSE!! I'm about to spill my guts out to you!! Of course I mind!!! This wasn't supposed to bring spectators.\nThis is our time...I try and play it cool, which is getting more difficult by the nano second.\n\n\"Nah, its fine Gwen, three's a company.\" I bitterly say. Gwen sort of half-chuckles half-scoffs. \n\n\"Well, I mean, she's...Dennis you okay?\" She looks at me with a genuine concern. She's found out. Abort, abort, abort!\n\n\"yeah...just...its nothing. Sorry, just a lot on my mind.\"\n\n\"Hey, is this about Lisa?\" . Lisa is 'that friend'. Lisa is Gwen but Gwen doesn't know it. \n\n\"yyyy--eah--kind of...no, yeah. Its...you're right.\" \n\n\"You have that picture? I need to see this angel you keep talking about. I gotta see the luckiest girl in the world, Dennis. Have you told her yet?\"... Jesus fucking Christ, can I at least get a warm up first? This girl goes for the juggler. I don't even know how to respond. I tried using english, but:\n\n'hemmmughhhh...nnnn...I-IIIII....no.'. \n\nThat's me. That's me in the corner, that's me in the spotlight...losing my religion.\nI excuse myself to go to the bathroom. The perfect strategy to go mad in an isolated area. Dunk my head in the toilet, maybe eat some toilet paper, hopefully choke. But, I just stand there. Listening to the music play...the song Joey by Concrete Blonde plays. My ex loved that song. Her face comes to me like a sudden migraine. An odd thing happens. I just start to ball, like a child whose lost. I am lost. What the fuck am i doing? I'm totally going against my vows. I can never get married, i can't even keep my own vows. How could I vow to someone else? \n\nWheres that firing squad at? I finally stop crying and make my way to the sink, wash my hands, because I guess its the only natural thing to do after you've cried in the bathroom. I dry my hands and make my way back out to the tables...and that's when I see it. It, her...the other girl...whats her name? I already forgot.\n\nI stand there. About twenty five feet from our table. Now invaded by the other girl...the girl whose invading the love of my life. The love I waited a few months to accept. A thousand cups of coffee, hours wasted of discussing things that never really mattered anyway. The girl who I thought I could find a new hope in love with. And in this slow motion, gut wrenching truth, i realize of all the things we talked about, we never talked about...\n\nGwen and the other girl. Her friend, her friend whose got her tongue down Gwen's cute little mouth. \n\nThat's me in the corner, that's me in the spotlight, losing my religion." ]	3
	[WP] The universe shatters leaving you the only human survivor amongst (mostly) dead ruins of countless worlds.	[ "I look around seeing a destroyed universe, countless have died in the aftermath.\n\nI look around to see no one else, just me. I get a sense of loneliness. \n\nI was born and raised by 2 good people, I didn't go to school but I heard horror stories of that place. My parents taught me how to read and write and the basics. Homeschooling they called it. They said that school to them was too bad for them to endure their child into lies. My parents were lenient yes but they still taught me, my dad worked at a college so he coulda sent me but I told him no. I found my own job without the need.\n\nBut, being homeschooled left me in a bad state emotionally at times, I was in a crippling loneliness and yes depression ensured. My parents kept me happy though, they were my only company throughout my life.\n\nBut, all good things must come to an end. My parents were good with me yes, but financially were massively in debt with a dangerous man. He had them kidnapped for probably 30 years. They were probably tortured or killed but, I never got to see them again.\n\nMy dad had a family my mom did not. my dad had an uncle who was wealthy but hated him, he invited me into his home and he let me stay for as long as I needed. He was really rich, I asked him why he didn't help out my dad and all I saw on his face was regret. Too soon, I never asked again.\n\nFor 9 years I lived the billionaire life style and found happiness in money. They say money can't buy happiness. It came pretty damn close. My uncle died of cancer and left it all to me, he was paranoid with women. He didn't trust them, maybe it's better not to be in love to then have it broken by a gold digger. I guess having money prevents love to flourish, it clouds people's judgement. \n\nHe left it all to me, I became ceo of his company and I overall improved it. I found my happiness in work, and turn his 2.4 billion dollar company into a 64.6 billion dollar company in 12 years. All the people that I loved are gone, and I was really feeling the depression thing now.\n\nI got help, I am smart after all, I didn't do drugs or get drunk I knew that at my state I would end up addicted and I don't want that on my conscious.\n\nfor 8 years life was normal, I had my pills to aid in my depression and sought help for my loneliness. but on my 50th birthday everything changed.\n\nScientists told us about the possibility of this within the next trillion years, as in not soon. The universe imploded in on itself, breaking all realities that once existed. Killing every known thing in existence. Besides one.\n\nI guess I was at the right place in the universe at the wrong time, I survived this to find myself in a white space, the universe was a dot slowly getting smaller until it disappeared\n\nI looked around to find nothing, I guess this is the physical realm of nothingness. I broke that chain I suppose.\n\nBut there was 1 other thing, a button.\n\nIt was just a simple button, so I clicked, and a dot emerged, instantly after pressing I gained all the knowledge of the universe that I created and all the power that I could ever need with it. I was essentially god. Earth formed normally, and humans evolved and took its part in the playing field. It all seemed to be repeating again but with some slight differences. For one, I don't exist. In this universe it was me who was killed during childbirth, not my sister. My family was financially stable with the aid of my uncle and they lived good long lives. In my reality, it was really quite the opposite.\n\nI close my eyes and think about my life before this, I had my problems with loneliness but atleast I got help, here I can only watch. I can't talk to anyone, I know I said I had infinite power but I can not do one thing and thats the ability to talk to someone. \n\nI found happiness in the universe that I created, and treated it like my son for 14 trillion years. I age a lot slower so 14 trillion years is around 38 human years, I was dieing and used my last breath to recreate with a new leader, a new sole survivor of the imploded universe, and then I vanish from existence.\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] Write a story that ends with "And then I died.".	[ "Alright, 5 years ahead, I got a phone call and it was a deep voice saying not to go outside. I did and I found a box, so I opened it. In the box, there was a peice of paper from the Death Note that had my name on it. And then I died.", "It all started one particularly brutal winter. The whole town was frozen solid when I got back. I decided I would take it upon myself to defeat the evil dragon that brought upon this cold. Whilst I was making my way to his layer I realized I forgot my sweater and was contracting a cold. In my weakened state I soon collapsed onto the icy floor. I contracted hypothermia and despite my attempts to recover, I soon realized it was too late for me and all I had was the hope that I wouldn't die in vain. I took my final few moments as an oppurtunity to reflect on my accomplishments in life. I quickly came to the realization that I've been a huge asshole and then I died.", "I decided to explore the barren cavern, although my flashlight batteries seemed to be fading away. To my own surprise, the path is smooth and easy on my wore down,beaten up hiking boots. I could hear footsteps of the unknown traveler pacing behind me. I pick up my pace and find a small divet where I hear the noises of water flowing and see the sun shining in. As I make my way to the area, I hear a screech of \" GIVE ME MY BOOTS BACK\" . And then, I died.\n\n--Enjoy--", "Sometimes, being a time traveler sucks. You keep running into people who want to talk about things you haven't done yet, you are constantly avoiding yourself and somehow you always seem to miss your own birthday. That first part is the worst. Even if you look years younger than you do when (from their perspective) you first meet them (a fact often attributed to, depending on the time period, wizards or cosmetic surgery) they still want to talk about the(ir) past as if it should mean anything to you.\n\nOne such encounter was just last week (for me). I am a frequent visitor to the Khovd space port in 2330's Mongolia. As usual, I went to my favorite vendors to get what must be the best yak jerky ever. Naranbaatar is one of those people who it totally clueless about my fluctuating age and is under the assumption that I live linearly, which is probably why he said this:\n\n\"Ligeia? What? . . . I'm sorry. I just didn't expect to see you again, especially not after what happened Tuesday. I know modern medicine can do great things, but there really wasn't that much left of you.\"\n\n\"I'm a little lost, Baatar. What happened Tuesday?\"\n\nBaatar is a good man who excels at making jerky, but he is terrible at telling stories. The whole thing was out of order and filled with such helpful descriptions as \"the thing with the red stuff on top\" and \"the really tall guy with the funny beard who looks like that guy from that old show.\"\n\nI really didn't get half of it, but from what I can tell, I went to Khovd, met a hyper-rhino and then I died. Great. ", "It was harder than you’d think to pretend that it wasn’t happening to me. I was only 12\nwhen I was diagnosed, and since that moment it had haunted me. The constant tests strained me to the point of contemplating suicide on nearly a daily basis. I watched as what had once been a beautiful, loving girl, full of joy and happiness to spare, transformed into a loathsome, depressed, shell of a human being, barely bearing traces of the ray of sunshine she once was, what she had always expected herself to be.\n\n\"Just pretend it isn’t there,” my parents and friends told me. “Act like nothing has changed. It hasn’t. We still love you and we’re always going to be here for you.” Right. Just act like you’re not fucking dying slowly and painfully. I simply couldn’t do it. Eating breakfast? Rachel, you’re dying. Painting a picture? Hey Rachel, remember me, your cancer? I’m killing you. Chemistry class? That’s some very nice hydrochloric acid… I bet I can kill you before that does, though. I couldn’t forget. I couldn’t pretend. I was dying, I almost wanted to die, and there was nothing I could do about it.\n\nI tried to do everything on my bucket list before the inevitable struck. I went to Disneyland, and was given special treatment. The thrill is a little less prominent with death lurking over your shoulder in the ominous form of stage III breast cancer, I have to say. My defective seatbelt on one of the coasters added a nice touch. My mom took me skydiving, and I nearly died when my parachute failed to deploy the first time. I almost wished that I had. Somehow, they managed to afford to take me to Amsterdam. I insisted they didn’t, as my medical expenses were high on their own, but my hands were tied, and I was given a fairly entertaining time touring the capitol. On the plane ride home, an engine failed. I remember my mother clutching my hand tightly and my little brother wailing to my left as the air masks dropped as the pilot insisted we remain calm and buckle our seatbelts. We are going to die right now, I thought, almost content with the image, but we didn’t. Somehow, the pilot managed to make an emergency landing in New York. Had we departed even twenty minutes later, we would not have made it to an airport. Time after time, it seemed, I managed to cheat death.\n\t\nWhen I was 15, I beat the cancer. It turns out weeks of relentless chemo, countless surgeries, and years of agonizing pain would pay off with patience. My parents were ecstatic, and my friends were overjoyed. Even I started to crack a smile every now and again, a rare occurrence for me. My hair started to grow back, and I was able to eat more.\n\t\nThere was no evidence of cancer when I was coming up on my sixteenth birthday, which led to the planning of a dual birthday-and-congratulatory party. Congratulations on narrowly avoiding death about 24 times and surviving another year without dying, I thought to myself as I mounted my bike for the short ride down to the local bowling alley where the celebration was to be held. \t\n\t\nShe wasn’t paying attention when she came around the corner; whatever her boyfriend had to say over text was apparently more important. I have to say, it was probably at least partly my fault; I had headphones in and couldn’t hear her reckless approach. I always had an affinity for musical theater, and Empty Chairs at Empty Tables was playing at maximum volume in my ears when she swerved. \n\t\nYears of anger. Pain. Depression. After barely surviving a defective airplane ride, skydiving experience, a life-threatening illness, and countless other unreal situations, I began to think that maybe, just maybe, someone up there was looking out for me. Maybe life wouldn’t always be so bad. And then, I died.\n\n-\n\nThis is my first time posting here as I am coming out of a long period of writer's block so constructive criticism is greatly appreciated! Thank you for reading!", "My sleep was interrupted by sudden brightness and deep shakes. I jolted from my silk-covered bed, moving quickly to a wall to survey the situation. The shaking stopped. I knew I wasn't alone in the room. A large shadow stretched across the carpet, blocking the light. I froze. They say if you don't move, they can't see you. Waiting a few moments, I decided to make a run for it, trying to dodge the darkness without seeing the horror that caste it. I felt a surge of air. Pressure pushing down on my from above. I wasn't fast enough. There was an instant of extreme pressure all over. And then, I died. \n" ]	6

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