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[ WP ] Write a story that does n't make sense , until the last sentence .
| I was tired. The war had been going on for what seemed like hours. I could n't see the enemy anymore but I knew it was there. I could hear it moving in the cover of darkness.
Swiftly, without thinking I threw my shoe thinking I could end this war right now, but I missed. I immediately felt the counter attack and had to quickly duck to dodge it, it was close.
I was starting to give in to despair and then I saw it, my opportunity. Without hesitating I grabbed the pillow and quickly threw myself in the attack, and that was it. I did it, finally the mosquito was dead.
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[ IP ] Desolation
| I stand on the shore all alone, gathering my courage. The last heat of the day seeps out from the edges of the eclipsed sun. The darkness provides no respite from the heat. There is a metallic tang to the air. The only sounds are the hot wind and the creaking of the great metallic structures that break the surface of the sea. The seagulls do not cry. There are no nuisance insects buzzing in my ear. No children laugh or screech in the surf. Those things are all dead. I am here alone.
It has been six years since The Singularity by my reckoning. It ’ s getting harder to eke out my existence here. There are no animals left for me to eat—I hunted them all to extinction a year after I arrived in this spot. I ’ ve been trying to live off of plants since then, but they do not grow well under this bloated and dimmed red sun. I think I need to move again to search out new sources of food but I am afraid. I have been safe from The Machines since I came to this spot, and I am loathe to give that up.
I have been thinking about why The Machines avoid this place, for I have little else to do except contemplate the gnawing hunger in my stomach. I will have to leave here eventually if I wish to avoid starving to death. I have been hoping to use the secret to this place ’ s relative safety to ensure my own.
I am going to investigate the tallest of the strange metal structures before me. The creaking and moaning metal worries me. The wind is strong, and I am afraid that it will break under my weight, but inside I already know I will climb it. If I fail, perhaps I will be lucky and the fall will kill me.
Hand over hand, I begin to climb, studiously avoiding the heavily rusted parts. I stop to catch my breath and look around 20 feet up or so. It ’ s hard to see in the dim red light, but far off in the distance I see the telltale blue blinking of a group of Machines. I wonder what they do now that they have killed us all. For all I know, I am the only one left. I wonder what on earth I could have done to deserve such an honor.
I climb another 10 feet before the strength of the wind becomes too much. Despite my earlier blasé feelings about falling from the structure, I dislike how the wind pushes and pulls at me up so high. I cling to the beam, trying to convince myself to go down. For me, climbing up has always been easier than going down.
Before I go down, though, I happen to catch sight of a yellow light west of my little hut. It is strange because all the lights of The Machines are blue. It flickers, almost like a fire. I know it wasn ’ t there when I stopped before. My desire to investigate propels me downward, and I eventually drop into the shallow surf at the base of the tower. My legs quiver from the exertion and so little food, and I know I will not be able to journey tonight. I scrape together a meager meal of lichens and try to sleep, vowing to set out after I rest.
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[ WP ] During a routine consultation with your psychiatrist , he accidentally responds to a question from one of your 'hallucinations ' . How do you respond ?
| It was when Dr Hinmer directly addressed Phyllis that I realised something wasn ’ t quite right.
“ Your hair is looking very… soft, Phyllis. Have you changed your shampoo? ”
“ New conditioner. ” Phyllis replied.
“ Ah, splendid. ”
I stammered in disbelief.
“ You can... ”
“ See her? Yes. ”
“ How is that possible? ”
“ Well, you ’ ve described her to me so many times, how she looks, how she speaks, the fact that she follows you around. I just assumed she ’ d be here, for, you know, moral support. ”
I paused.
“ So, you can ’ t actually see her ”.
“ I can see her as well as you can see her, and that ’ s what counts, right? ”
The sarcastic prick. I stood up and punched him straight in the mouth; nobody takes the piss out of me. I sat back down as blood began to pour from his nose. My knuckles had a slight sting to them. He didn ’ t even flinch.
“ Are you keeping up on your medication? ”
I scrambled in my pockets to find the empty pillbox as proof. When I looked back up the blood on Hinmer ’ s nose had gone. Fuck. Another hallucination.
“ Yeah, sure… ” I stammered.
“ You don ’ t seem certain. Let me look at the pills? ”
I passed him the now full pillbox.
“ You haven ’ t taken any! No wonder your episodes have got worse. ”
`` I could have sworn? ”
“ Do you remember taking them? ”
I lied.
“ Yes. ”
Hinmer leaned forward slightly.
“ Absolutely certain? ”
I lied again.
“ Yes. Yes I fucking remember. That must be a new box I accidently picked up. ”
He turned to his desk and began writing something on a clipboard. I looked up at the clock on the wall. The time was 12:25; only five more minutes left of this shit. He turned back to face me.
“ And how is Phyllis? How many times a week is she visiting? ”
“ Once every couple of days. ”
She hadn ’ t left since last Tuesday, but I didn ’ t want him to give me any more pills to take.
“ Good, good. ” He said, writing more information down onto the clipboard. He flipped the page he had been using over to reveal more blank boxes that needed filling.
“ So, are we going to finish at half past like normal? ”
“ I should think so, if we can get this section done in the next couple of minutes. ”
I didn ’ t particularly want to over-run; I knew Phyllis would get impatient. That never ends well. I tried to make some small talk to avoid answering any more of the questions.
“ Have you got anything you ’ re doing after this? ” I asked.
“ I ’ m working the rest of the day. Now, onto… ”
“ It ’ s just I really need to catch my train at quarter too. I ’ ve got a big party I ’ m going to? ”
“ Oh? ”
“ Nothing serious, just something with a few friends. ”
Himner raised one eyebrow.
“ Real friends? ”
I looked away in embarrassment. He knew I didn ’ t have any real friends. I bent down and began to re-lace one of my shoes to avoid eye contact.
“ …Yeah, sure. Real friends. Jerry, Tony, Pete. Have I never ment… ”
I looked back up. Himner was gone. The room was empty. Suddenly, I could hear footsteps approaching the door. It swung open.
“ Sorry to keep you waiting Tim ” said Dr Joseph. “ I was just running a little late. ”
I looked up at the clock on the wall. The time was 12:00.
--
EDIT: Formatting
*Like my stuff and want to read more? For 2016 I've set myself the task of writing a short piece every day of the year, using r/writingprompts for help. You can follow my progress and read more content here: * http: //tamaxwell.tumblr.com/
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[ WP ] An artifact ( s ) is discovered that has properties that should be physically impossible
| The Egyptians were n't particularly famous for individual artifacts. The tombs, certainly, and the sheer volume of treasure within, but no single artifact ( except perhaps the actual sarcophagi ) was known to have significant value. Of course, this is only what we know of them. Ancient Egyptian civilization lasted thousands of years in nearly the same state, and they were as old to Cesar as Cesar is to us.
It was still somewhat of a surprise to archaeologists in the field when scrolls were uncovered that predated the earliest known cultures of Egypt, and world news was abuzz when a fourth millenium of Egyption history was uncovered, jokingly called the `` Zero-th Kingdom''. This new era was spelled out in big excavations and discoveries, revealing the true origins of Egyptian civilization.
But far and away the most important thing ever to be uncovered was carefully hidden from the public eye. Dismissed as a simple amulet of a proto-Aten sun deity, it was never catalogued and disappeared from the minds of the people the moment it left the view of the cameras.
Much political intrigue and espionage was involved, but by the end of 2016 the amulet was in the posession of the United States Federal Beureau of Investigation.
`` Explain to me again how a clay amulet from the dawn of Egyptian civilization is relevant to Obama's lame-duck administration.''
`` Trust us, sir. The administration wo n't matter anymore - America is going to eliminate its dependence on oil.''
`` We already did that. Fracking killed the oil imports and drove down gas prices.''
`` Not on foreign oil, sir. America wo n't need oil at all anymore.''
Before the government official could ask what the scientist meant, they stopped and the lab-coated man turned left into a large open room full of unfathomable devices.
`` We found documentation pertaining to the artifact in a separate, top-secret dig several miles south. Given how close it was to the surface where it was found, we think it's been displaying the anomalous property since at least 2500 BCE. We have n't the faintest idea how it got that way, or how it's even possible for hadronic matter to display such behavior, but we've been running tests and experiments for months and all we can really say is that it's composed of normal matter. It wears and degrades just like other clay artifacts of its era and location, reflects electromagnetic wavelengths correctly, and obeys the Pauli Exclusion Principle as finely as any non-quantum substance --''
`` Pardon me for interrupting, but what exactly makes it so'anomalous'? You say it behaves like normal matter. What does it do that deserves all this machinery?''
The scientist pointed into a glass cylinder several meters above the floor, in one of the devices. The amulet was suspended inside. It looked like four Ankhs with the same loop - a single circle with a line sticking out from four sides, each line crossed by another where it met the circle.
`` Simply put, sir, it does n't gravity.''
`` That sentence is n't grammatical. And what the hell do you mean? It just floats? Surely someone would have noticed by now, or it would have been expelled into space by atmospheric pressure. How would that help us anyway?''
`` Not exactly, sir. It falls... but it does n't attract.''
`` Go on.''
`` There's a theory that one type of exotic matter might have mass that was both positive and negative - that is, it both attracts and repels normal matter. It would fall toward the matter, and the matter would fall away from it - you see?'' The scientist gestured with his hands to show two objects falling sideways. `` They would constantly accelerate in one direction, since the normal matter ca n't repel the exotic matter and the exotic matter ca n't attract the normal matter.''
`` Are you saying this amulet repels matter?! They would have figured that one out even faster!''
`` Not all the time! The documentation was instructions, from an otherwise unknown god called `` Selath''. They say that the amulet is called the `` flux seed'' ( translated from the Egyptian, of course ), and that it can only be unlocked by bombarding it with gamma rays, which they called `` the invisible light that poisons''. That documentation was what made the amulet so interesting. We had to scan across the gamma frequencies, but when we hit the right one...''
`` Let me guess. Something exploded.''
`` No. We simply noticed that out gravimetric scans were giving an impossible double reading. While the amulet is exposed to sufficient levels of the right frequency of gamma radiation, it creates a twist in spacetime that results in a causality-defying gravitational signature --''
`` Cut the jargon. Hit it with gamma rays and its gravity becomes half reversed.''
`` Well, in the very simplest terms, yes,'' the scientist said irritated. `` But it's far more complex than that and it turns everything we know about two of the most fundamental laws of physics and the Egyptian civilization on their respective heads!''
`` What do I care? I'm a government worker, not a historian or a cosmologist. This is mind-bending, but how is it useful?''
`` You may recall I mentioned that in a closed system, an equal mass of regular and exotic matter will accelerate indefinitely. That's infinite energy right there.''
`` So? You might get energy out of such a system, but they fall in one direction just like something on Earth falling - they just fall a longer way. How would you get them back? And besides, no such system exists on Earth, since Earth itself is the biggest obstacle.''
`` You're pretty smart. Here's a question for you: how do they get particles to go so fast in particle accelerators without the particles getting away?''
`` They run them in a circle, do n't they? Are you saying we find a way to make this thing accelerate in a circle?''
`` I'm saying we already have a way.''
`` Where? Under Earth's gravity it will just fall like anything else and have a negligible effect on the planet.''
`` Outside Earth's gravity: in orbit.''
`` I knew Area 51 was good for something.'' The government official chuckled. `` How far have you gotten with it?''
`` The station is nearly complete. We anticipate three days of spin-up time once the artifact is installed, after which it will become self-sustaining - that is, the containment systems will be powered by the reactor itself. From the on we expect power output comparable to a small coal plant, rising exponentially to the power output of a large nuclear plant over the course of four months.''
`` Incredible. We'll have to keep it top-secret, of course: invent a new type of nuclear plant, except it's classified and all it does is recieve power from the station. Within a couple years we'll be generating so much power we can sell it to other countries!''
`` There is something I should warn you about, sir.''
`` Please do n't tell me it's liable to explode.''
`` What? Of course not. We could n't know that unless it actually exploded, in which case we would have lost a source of infinite energy. No, it's about the documentation. The instructions say that Selath did n't expect humanity to be able to unlock the flux seed for at least 4,000 years from when the document was apparently written. It says that unlocking the flux seed means humanity is ready to ascend, and the gods will come to take us to the next plane.''
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[ FF ] The Confrontation . ( Contest )
| I need it, I need it, I need the red taste back on my tongue, need the squish on my teeth, need the bite, feel it submit to me, feel it owned by me, feel it be mine. I need it, I need it. So I run for it, so I make wind and claw earth and I run until I ca n't see, ca n't see, nothing but the smell of wet grass and budding pine to tell me to stop, stop, before I go too far. I saw it it in the air saw HIM throw it, saw the way it was going saw it disappear in the sky and I need it, I need it. It's not just the taste but the taste is good and it's not just the bite but the bite is good it's the getting, it's the finding, it's remembering moon nights coming through forest sky and your brothers and your sisters beside you and the long howl that says you're here, you're here, and everything knowing and hiding and you finding and you getting. That's what you remember when you chase THE BALL down.
But it is n't here I ca n't find it. I saw it I did I saw bright sun catch it I did it went here I know it but I ca n't find it it is n't here. If I ca n't find it I ca n't get it and that's the whole point that's it that's what I'm for. So I run back and forth. I let it know I'm here, I say, I'm here! I'm here!, but it does n't say anything back and I run until my heart starts hurting, until my tongue is dry and I still ca n't find it.
And HE calls me back and he calls.....PERRIN and PERRIN is my name so I have to come back, I have to come back without getting it, I am BAD. I am BAD.
And SHE is with him SHE is often with him though SHE smells different than the last time and she smelled different the last time too but it's always SHE. And it's always HE. HE always smells the same. And I did n't find it but HE's laughing so I wag my tail so he'll know I'm happy too I am but I did n't get it so I do n't know why.
And then HE moves HIS arm and it's THE BALL, THE BALL was in HIS hand the whole time and that's CHEATING that is n't right that is n't hunting that's stealing that's STEALING and something old inside me wants to bite and taste another kind of red the old red that's what I want. But HE holds THE BALL high above and waves it and I see it and he says
...?................ STUPID DOG.
And I am a STUPID DOG and my tail stops wagging and the old memories go away because I am a STUPID DOG and all I want is THE BALL that's all a STUPID DOG wants.
And SHE says..............
And HE laughs and he throws his arm and I see the light catch THE BALL and I am running because I need it, I need it, I need the red taste back on my tongue and HE is laughing behind me and we are having fun I am GOOD I will find it.
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[ WP ] You are sitting on your couch when explosions erupt on the street outside . Out the window , skyscrapers are aflame , buildings are collapsing and people are running for their lives . Describe your panicked escape from the burning city .
| The heat from the explosions outside made the cheese in my left hand start melting. I had been sleeping on my couch for most of the day and I had nothing important in my schedule. Generally if I had, I would try to ignore it and consume more cheese. This was a different situation, because this was life threatening.
I walked slowly towards the door of my twohundred-squarefeet-apartment in the famous Supercity Grand Center Building. My knees and my back had become used to a couch-based lifestyle and the pain slowed me down. I did n't need to open the door - a sudden explosion made the door turn to smoke, flames and dust in front of my face, which cut my moustache and made it start smoking too. I had eaten spice cheese in my days, but this was different and beyond spiciness of cheese.
I knew I had to get out of my apartment and I started panicking. My biological ape-brain filled my body with adrenaline, making me run into a wall and through it and falling down in the elevator shaft on the other side, which caused great damage to my weak body. The flow of adrenaline had already come to an end and the pain from losing a leg and breaking both of my shoulders and blood from seven skull fractures blocked my vision.
Even though my physical state was currently critical and life threatening, I somehow managed to call 911. The last thing I felt, except the burning pain was a bit of hope. Then the world became dark.
The rescue team did n't arrive to Supercity Grand Center Building, their GPS was full of unfixed bugs.
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[ WP ] A survivor in a zombie apocalypse finally gets bitten . While turning , they realize that zombies are in fact doctors trying to deliver a cure that will rid `` survivors '' of their insanity , while the secondary realization that they have been killing humans this entire time slowly sets in .
| It was n't the bite that had Henry sobbing for mercy as the wave of bodies fell over him, restraining him on the ground. They were mutated animals, their skin peeling off in great big clumps to show the pus and blood beneath. He could hear voices echoing in his head, while they groaned and their voice boxes shuddered.
`` He's bleeding!''
`` Bandages, stat!''
`` Kid? Kid, stay with us. It's ok!''
`` We're not zombies!''
The boy whimpered as he feebly fought against them, and as fingers wrapped around his injured leg he let out a cry of fury, kicking as much as he could until his boot landed in the zombie's face and shoved them onto the floor.
`` Dr. Banner? Shit. Give the kid a higher dose, stat!''
Another creature bit into his arm and a white-hot fire spread through his blood, searing him from the inside, blurring his vision. Everything seemed a lot brighter.. The faces of the zombies magically healed to show truly human faces, not animalistic but concerned, desperate. Was this how people died? They saw the ghosts of people who had once inhabited those bodies, heard them. What was reality?
`` He's coming around, Dr. Richards!''
`` Gerroff. Gerroff! My sister! I want my sister!'' wailed Henry, kicking out at the zombie fiends. One gripped his left arm, still in shock from the biting, and leered over him, an old man's face with greying hair.
`` Listen to me, son, it's going to be ok. We're here to help you. We can help your sister, but you need to believe: there were never any zombies.''
As his vision cleared, slowly but surely, Henry silenced himself - did he believe the ghost of this zombie? He was unsure - he could n't even remember when this started. How it started. He just remembered his parents being zombies all of a sudden.. He had had to save his sister. He had grabbed the closest makeshift weapon - an iron - and battered their heads in while his sister screamed.. *Henry! No! You're killing them! *
``.. What happened?'' Henry whispered to Dr. Richards, wondering if this ghost could make any sense of what was happening. Why could he not feel anything?
`` You've been infected by a virus for some time now. A very contagious virus where you would hallucinate that people without the virus were infected - zombies. We think it was orchestrated by the Axis, but have no conceivable proof, though perhaps your memories could help us. Son, you were never in any danger, your mind simply tricked you.''
`` Oh god.''
`` Son? What is it?''
`` My sister. My *sister*! I need to see her. I..''
A voice shouted a distance away, `` Dr. Richards, we've found the girl!''
`` It's ok, son,'' Dr. Richards murmured, `` We've found your sister. You two will be reunited.''
`` Dr. Richards..'' Dr. Banner's voice emerged quietly but sternly.
`` You do n't understand,'' Henry gasped, his heart seizing up as his breaths became quick and labourer. His chest ached as his body shook, sweat dribbling down his back. `` My sister.. She was infected.''
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[ WP ] You have a compass that points to whatever will cause the most damage in the next 24 hours , anywhere in the world . Today , it 's pointing directly at your grandmother , who is knitting a pair of socks .
| You stare in disbelief at the wrinkled fingers working steadily, and you briefly wonder how many pairs of socks the old woman has knit in her lifetime – a lifetime that, to your knowledge, has consisted of nothing more than a sequence of mundane activities such as this. Her life plays like a movie reel in your head to distract you as your brain tries to cope with the knowledge of what you now have to do.
The compass was never wrong.
You remember what happened the last time you thought you could change fate, and you shudder with the memory. All those innocent people… dead. That was on you. You can ’ t let something like that happen again.
Clack, clack, clack. The familiar sound that used to bring you so much comfort now taunts you like a ticking clock. Time was of the essence. Clack, clack, clack.
You have to get away. You can ’ t think with this loving, innocent old lady before you, knowing what you have to do. Clack, clack, clack. It ’ s so unfair. Clack, clack, clack. What did she ever do to anyone? Clack, clack, clack. WHY DO I HAVE TO DO THIS? Clack, clack, clack. WHY ME?!
She suddenly stops and looks up from her work to survey you: “ Everything alright dear? You look like you ’ ve seen a ghost. ”
“ I ’ m fine, Nanny, ” you say, almost a whisper, your heart in your throat.
“ I ’ ve just finished another pair, come and see. ”
You smile and get up to have what will soon be one of your last moments with her, and the thought corrodes your heart as you kneel down to take the soft socks from her outstretched hands.
White hot pain rises up from your sternum as you look down to find her knitting needle jutting out from your chest, skewering the socks you were so close to touching.
***
“ A whole other batch already, Mrs. Sharp? ” says the hospital volunteer as he lifts the box of carefully folded socks from her floor. `` The box seems heavier than usual!''
“ Oh, you know me… not much to do anymore at my age. ”
***
She sits knitting at the window overlooking the hospital and hums an old tune as she watches the fire devour the building before her. “ Not much to do anymore at my age… ” Clack, clack, clack.
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[ WP ] Magic exists , but the cost to use it is so high that it 's only been used a handful of times in history . This will be one of those times .
| `` Are you sure you want to go through with this, Mr. President?''
Harry Truman closed his eyes. `` Desperate times, Jenkins...''
`` Of course sir. It's just that - we've never done this before, on such a scale.''
The president's eyes flashed open. `` That's because we are n't the reds. We were n't the Nazis. This is n't Stalin's pits, and Hitler's chambers. We are giving the nips peace.''
`` I know sir. It's just that... Will it work? M-division is confident, but they're scientists, not soldiers. Will it really break the Japanese will?''
The bomb sat in its casing, about to be loaded up into the plane. Twisting runes and shifting characters lay beneath the outside cover, Truman knew. He'd seen the designs himself. Hell, he'd studied the Arts himself, like every president before, and they'd looked fine to him.
M-division promised it would destroy the Japanese leadership, a focused strike at their collective will. But the cost... An entire city...
An end to this damned war. Truman let out a long breath. It was for the people. It was for America.
He looked at Jenkins.
`` Begin the operation.''
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[ WP ] Scandal and corruption in the retirement home bingo parlor .
| The faint buzzing of fluorescent light bulbs provided a fitting backdrop for this grim building. The Sunshine Retirement home was the darkest of slums but it was the perfect place for a woman like me. There was a sense of belonging to be found in this stark realism. Rich people may claim to understand humanity but fact of the matter is that you need to see the darkest sides of men before you can truly grasp what they ’ re capable of. Also my children said I was getting strange in my old age and send me here, so it ’ s not like I had much choice to begin with.
I took a deep drag from my pipe. All around me, crimes were taking place. Miss Hendrich was carefully knitting a pair of multicolored socks for her granddaughter, a job she would undoubtedly “ forget ” to mention when she did her taxes. A few people were sitting by the CD-player listening to music from the sixties. Was the CD paid for or was it merely a pirated copy from one of their children? Hell, who could even tell the difference anymore? A grim place like the Sunshine retirement home blurred the border between law and anarchy to the point where it was barely even there.
Tonight was Bingo night. A tradition which brought the gambling addicts out with the promise of grandiose prizes. The residents would look longingly at things like half a pound of coffee or the grand prize of a frozen turkey. Of course, the chances of getting these things were miniscule but I knew perfectly well that people didn ’ t come here for just that. They came here for hope.
I sat down as one of the caretakers approached me. She was a young woman in her twenties, the kind of youth who hasn ’ t lived long enough to truly grasp what life is. She still carried a smile which I had little doubt would soon dissipate from her face as the years washed over her. “ Hello, miss Adams! ” she said happily. “ Good to see you out of your room! Can I bring you a cup of coffee while you play? ”
“ I ’ ll have a cup. Make it black, ” I muttered. “ Black like the darkness that lives inside every human being. The darkness that just waits for the faintest excuse to break free and reveal the putrid horrors that every man tries to hide from society. ”
“ Ooooh! ” chirped the caretaker. “ You ’ re playing detective again? ”
I snorted in derision as she poured my drink.
“ Do you want some cake too? ” she offered.
I shook my head. “ I ’ m just here for the game, ” I stated.
Some claim that Bingo is a game of luck. They are wrong. The trick is to read your opponent ’ s tells. To get inside their minds and deduce the best possible strategy from the information you gain. You have to know when it ’ s time to play your Bingo ( usually when you have completed your board ) and you have to know when it ’ s best to just sit and watch the game unfold ( usually when you haven ’ t completed your board ).
The game unfolded. A few people talked while it went on, carried a conversation about how immigrants were causing whatever problems were in the news these days. Most just sat transfixed staring at their board as the numbers were read out loud though. I didn ’ t win. The grand prize of the frozen turkey went to Beatrice Johnson, a widow who had been living here for a couple of years longer than me. I discreetly retrieved a small notebook from my back pocket and wrote down her name. I knew what had to be done.
***
The clock read almost nine in the evening when I quietly snuck back into the now empty common room. The other residents of the Sunshine Retirement Home had all gone to sleep hours ago. Good. I picked up the phone hanging on the wall and quickly dialed the number I now knew from memory.
“ Internal Revenue Service, how can we be of assistance? ” asked a voice on the other end of the line.
I changed my voice slightly. I needed to preserve my anonymity; I couldn ’ t risk having the word get out of who I truly was. I tried to add a bit of growl as I spoke. “ I ’ m calling about Beatrice Johnson. She recently won a frozen turkey and I suspect she ’ s not going to report it as part of her income tax. ”
The voice hesitated. “ Miss Adams, is that you again? ” it asked.
I blinked a few times in surprise. “ No, ” I lied.
“ Miss Adams, you can ’ t keep calling about these things. ”
“ But the turkey! ” I shouted, momentarily forgetting to change my voice. “ She ’ s not going to pay taxes on it! ”
The voice sighed. “ We don ’ t care, ” it said. “ Stop calling us. ” With those words, the line halted. They had hung up on me.
I swallowed hard, trembling slightly as I put down the phone. It all made sense now. This conspiracy went deeper than just the Sunshine Retirement Home. How much had it cost Beatrice Johnson to corrupt the IRS? How much of the frozen turkey had it taken to buy their silence? A drumstick? Two? I sat down, lighting my pipe again. There was only one thing I could do now to ensure that justice was served. I had to find a way to contact the president.
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[ WP ] You have a magic pen that makes anything you write true , and you have written `` This sentence is false . ''
| `` This sentence is true.''
I stared at the words I had written, contemplating my next action. Simple, really - someone gives you a device that ignores reality, and you immediately want to create a paradox.
I put the pen on the page again, hesitating slightly. Part of me knew that this was foolish, dangerous, pointless. Part of me wanted to see what happened.
`` The sentence above this one is false''
Hesitation again, I knew that I was approaching a point of no return. My earlier testing had proven that the pen was strict about certain formalities of writing, and would n't trigger until a proper sentence had been concluded. I had tried `` I have gold'' and nothing happened until I put the period at the end - perhaps to prevent the pen from preempting me from adding `` coins in the bank.'' or similar.
Whether or not this violated the rules of the pen had distracted me for a good hour - for if everything written was true, then it should be reacting as I write, otherwise for a fleeting moment the words were false. Finally, I determined that only sentences registered.
But - I was lollygagging again. One period, all that was necessary. I gulped, then shut my eyes and jabbed at the paper.
Upon reopening my eyes, I saw that the sentence was still there - but the period was n't. Hrm. I jotted again, this time dragging the pen across the paper in a flourish... and where the period should have been, blankness. Everywhere else, a line etched into the paper.
This was suggestive indeed. The pen would not allow me to finish a written lie, which indicated that it had some form of intelligence to check against my intentions. Yet the pen allowed me to progress this far, implying that it lacked foresight. Time to test that.
``.''
I dotted a period at the end of the page, on a new line. So far, so good. Returning to the front of the line, I began to write again.
`` This sentence is fals.''
And now on the e, the pen refused to write. This encouraged me - the pen could not prevent me from starting falsehoods, only from finishing them. Surely with my wit, I could think of a way to work around that.
A few minutes later, I thought I had it, but just to be sure, I decided to try using the pen to test whether or not my hypothesis was true - after all, that is what the pen was for.
`` This pen does not allow me to write falsehoods with it.''
True, as confirmed by the pen.
`` It is impossible to write a paradox in this book.''
Again, confirmed.
Now, to test. I put in the period at the end, as before, then with a cursive sprawl, wrote the sentence to precede it. It was n't until the final word I began to notice the weird energy building in the room, the heavy weight of time itself pressing down upon my back, urging me not to do this as clearly as if someone in the room had yelled out to me... I suddenly realized the ramifications of what I was doing, and tried to stop, but unfortunately my hand continued to write on autopilot.
`` Mitschu will both finish and never finish this.''
|
[ WP ] Every time the Messiah returns , we kill him . It is now the Thirty-seventh Coming , and Jesus is getting sick of our sh*t
| `` Mmmmff God mmmmfffff mmfff Messiah!''
`` What's he saying, dude?''
`` Just ignore him, Kyle. Kenny thinks he's son of God. He's been going on about it all afternoon.''
`` I do n't know, Stan. He seems pretty worked up.''
`` It's cause he's poor, you guys. I heard that Kenny's family is so poor, that they get head lice eating into their brains. That's probably why he's acting so stupid.''
`` Shut up, fatass. You wish you had lice eating some of you, then you would n't be so goddamn fat.''
`` Shut your fucking mouth, Jew-boy! I am *not* fat. I am pleasantly plump!''
`` Whatever, Cartman. Listen, Stan. I'm really worried. Kenny seems to be taking this really seriously.''
`` I know, dude. He has n't been to school for a week, and he spends most of his time staring at the sky and shaking his fists, like he's super angry at someone.''
`` Mmmmmmmmf! Fucking God! Mmmmumm Mmmmffff Resurrection!''
`` But how can he be Jesus, Stan? We've seen Jesus. Hell, he was here last Thursday to help us send the Crab People King back to the Abyss.''
`` I do n't know, dude. But Kenny is seriously messed up.''
`` Mmmmmf! Imposter! Mmrrffguff!''
`` Hey you guys. I heard that Kenny's family is so poor, ducks throw bread at them, and they go to KFC to lick other people's fingers.''
`` Shut the fuck up, Cartman! What can we do to help him, Stan?''
`` Well, maybe he's so pissed off because he keeps getting killed. If we could keep him alive this week, maybe he would stop believing that...''
**Snap! Crackle! **
`` Oh my God! Lightning just killed Kenny! You bastard!''
`` How did that happen? There's not a cloud in the sky!''
`` Fuck, I do n't know dude. Maybe he was telling the truth. Maybe he was Jesus and God did n't want us messing with his plan.''
`` Heh. Hey you guys, what's the only thing worse than being poor? Being poor and dead.''
`` Goddamn you, Cartman!''
|
[ WP ] Demonin Possession
| Lately my head has been acting rather strange.Yesterday, while I was in the grocery store, I looked at a banana and thought banane and a pineapple was ananas? I just blew it off. As I reached for the beer though something made me focus on the red wine.
Next thing I knew I was browsing the cheeses and biscuits. I hate cheese since I'm lactose intolerant and beer is always my number one alcoholic beverage. Red wine? I think I'm going through a phase. For some reason today I wanted to start smoking?
My mother thinks is a demonin. Ha, that's rediculous. How could I be apart of a demonic french paradox.
|
[ WP ] Invasion Earth
| *What news channel are you again? Oh, Daily Broadcast. Don ’ t know it. But anyways... this shit can be told and told and I will not get tired.
So…umm, do I need to start from the beginning? Like the first explosion and stuff? Oh, you want my WHOLE version…okay. Here it goes! *
I was walking Magnus, my dog, around the block at about, um, 3:30 in the afternoon. I was worried about having to pay rent, because I had bought a shit ton of smokes and was running low on money. And it was hot outside. Unreasonably hot. I know weather is going crazy, but it just felt weird. It felt heavy. It hadn ’ t rained or anything in weeks. And there I was walking my little, fat bulldog around the block when out of nowhere I hear this massive, earthshaking sound. It ’ s hard to say what I thought at the moment, but I remember falling down, as if pushed. I head this thunder of sorts and I was suddenly forced to the ground. And immediately after I fell, everything went quiet.
Then I felt the pain. My ears were ringing and sharp stabs of pain were running through my head like electricity infused with fire and…and venom. It was crazy. I couldn ’ t see straight, but I knew Magnus was next to me because his leash was around my wrist and I could hear his faint cries of pain. I patted the floor until I found him, and tried to feel if he was injured. I flinched when I felt him wet, but it didn ’ t feel like blood. It wasn ’ t as thick as blood, and he tends to sweat a lot, especially if it ’ s as hot as that day was.
My sight finally starts coming back, but the ringing in my ear was still present. I get up and blink to get used to the light around me. As soon as I do, I realize how shitty the situation really was. The air was full of dust, and I could smell smoke everywhere. It was hard to breathe, but not impossible. In the distance, shots were being fired, and screams were filling the gaps between bullets. The worst were the children screaming. Nothing gets your adrenaline pumping like hearing a kid in pain.
I looked at Magnus, and saw him curled up against the wall. His usually brown coat of hair was now gray and he had one eye closed shut, while the other expressed more fear than I could ever imagine having. As much as it pained me to leave my buddy alone, I had to go see what happened. I picked his trembling, fat body up and hid him under a bench with a tree fallen over it. I tried calming him down, but it was impossible.
After this I ran towards the sound of the crying children, which I believed were coming from a school around the corner. It filled me with dread to think the sound might be coming from there, because I know those kids. They ’ re cool kids, and they ’ ve always been nice around the neighborhood. If any of them were hurt or even…dead. Man, I couldn ’ t even think about it then or I would have been too afraid to even go see.
I ran around the corner and stopped immediately at what I was seeing. The street I was in ran directly through downtown, so whatever was happening over there was somewhat viewable from that place. But any clearing could show what I was seeing right then and there.
You guys saw it, everyone did. Only those who died in the first explosion didn ’ t. A massive cylinder was protruding from the center of the city. I wasn ’ t sure if it was the dust, or if that thing was just completely black, with bright stripes covering it from head to toe. On the surface of this shit I could see things moving. The funny thing is, when you see alien invasions in movies, people always act like they ’ ve never seen an alien or heard about one in their life. I knew that thing was not a terrorist attack; or the earth shitting black cylinder into space. That motherfucker was alien, and it was making a whole lot of ruckus around town.
When my eyes truly adjusted to the surroundings, I saw what was causing the movement on the surface of that extra-terrestrial bullet of sorts. Coming from what had to be pores in the metallic structure, aliens were pouring out of in hundreds. It almost seemed as if that cylinder was bleeding black goo. I couldn ’ t really notice they were actually yellow with black suits then, since they were too far away. But what I could notice was their extra arm coming out of their back. The white circular light emanating from what I assumed to be hands, and a very faint growling sound, which at first I mistook for the ground shaking.
I focused on my original task and continued running through the rubble filled street towards the school. When I arrived the screams were even louder and more frantic. A piece of the sidewalk had completely broken off and was standing upright blocking the main entrance. I looked for an alternative way and found one immediately in the fence. It had twisted and turned with the earthquake caused by the alien bullet, so it was easy to climb over in the exhausted state I was.
As soon as I opened the door to the school, my head was filled with an even louder mess of screams, shouts and cries. I had no idea where to start, but I headed towards the first classroom I spotted.
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[ WP ] A man goes to the bathroom , and while he looks in the mirror while washing his hands , he discovers that his reflection is slightly out of sync .
| `` Multi-verse theory, huh?'' I inwardly chuckled as this crackpot scientist from Applied Sciences Inc struggled through his presentation. *They should have hired a salesman, this guy has no idea how to pitch an idea. *
`` Sir, if you'll umm... allow me, uh, to prove it, I can. Sir''. He readjusted his stupid glasses for about the seventeen-hundredth time, and stated at me with a hopeful nervousness in his expression.
I gave him a few moments of silence, just to make him sweat.
``....OK, Dr. Show me what you got.''
He readjusted his stupid glasses again and fumbled with his briefcase for about an eternity. *God, when will this be over? *
I began tapping my pen expectantly, until out of the briefcase, he pulled a colored stone. I could n't tell exactly, but it looked like the colors were shifting. *I could have swore that part was blue a minute ago. Now, it's red? I must be more bored than I thought. *
It was then that I noticed the scientist was wearing sunglasses and gloves. The room started to tilt out of focus. I blinked a few times, and everything went back to normal. Crackpot had already packed up his crazy crack rock and papers.
`` Well sir, take the night to....heh..absorb everything, we'll be in touch, ah..tomorrow sometime.''
Suddenly, I did n't feel so well. I made my way into the restroom, clutching the walls along the way. My glasses fell down on my face, and I stripped them off. Gripping the sink in front of me, I ran the tap and splashed some water on my face. When I looked at the mirror, I could see multiples of things. Or was it just multiples of me? I blinked again to refocus. I stopped moving, and things seemed to normalize. But when I put my glasses back on, I saw clearly. The person in front of me was me, but not the reflection I was used to. And in the mirror, I was n't wearing glasses. I put my hands up to my face and felt my glasses, and watched as my reflection put its hand up to a bare face.
*This ca n't be happening. *
I slapped myself, first lightly, then as hard as I could. The blow stung more than I was expecting, and knocked me to the floor. I felt my head snap back and contact the tile. As my world went black, I watched my reflection standing in the mirror, pointing at me.
Laughing at me.
|
[ WP ] In a deep depression you decide to end your life . You dont dare do it youself so you hire an assassin to do it at random within a year . The following day you change your mind but ca n't get a hold of the assassin .
| Yesterday I did a silly thing.
Life had never been the same since Nathan left. He was my love, my life, my everything. I had recently been laid off and it really took a hit on my self esteem; Nathan hardly seemed to notice. He scarcely made me feel lazy for sitting at home all day with our dogs in front of my laptop, always in the same spot he had left me in that morning when he left for work. I was blindly falling into a depression born of complacency. I would cook him dinner, we'd eat and watch television, laugh, and go to bed. I was just beginning to realize I may be in a bit of a rut when he left for work that final morning, and then he never came home.
Nathan had been the last thing keeping me together, I realized. So last night I drank a handle of Whiskey and did the silly thing. And the only evidence I left my sober self was an open page on my laptop, cruelly glaring at me in my dimly lit apartment. It was a Craigslist ad.
`` i sjust realllly wnat to DIE. Ii cant' go on any loger but I'm to cchiken shit to do anythign about it/
WANTED
Assasssin. FKill me withi the year My phone number is...''
The world spun as I read my very intimate and ( no longer ) secure details on a public ad on the internet. With instructions to kill me. And how to do it. I blinked and squinted at the words, making sure I read them correctly.
`` What the fuck?'' I heard the words but did n't realize I was saying them. I had the sudden urge to vomit. Fighting to keep down the contents of my stomach I scrambled for my phone. I received an outgoing call last night, and it lasted 42 minutes. The call was made an hour after my listing went live. `` No no no no.''
I called the number back, each ring setting the butterflies free in my chest. I could feel my hand shaking. Had I really done this?
... No answer. FUCK. I spent the next 2 hours trying to no avail. This was really happening. I had to figure out a way to deal with it, and fast. The ad said within the year, but the sickening thought that the next *hour* is also within the year struck me with panic.
`` Okay okay okay. Stop and think, Les. Stop and think. What do we know?'' I was pacing involuntarily, the two dogs indifferently shuffling out of my way when they happened to be in my path.
What did we know? An armed *murderer* was coming to kill me within the year. I could n't get a hold of them to cancel the action. I was screwed.
Or was I? I had a membership to a gym within a small jog of my apartment, though I could never bring myself to go. It was too much effort. The prospect of being murdered and being unable to defend myself, however, was apparently all the motivation I needed. They offered self-defense, martial arts, had a full weight section...
With that I went upstairs, put on my running shoes and grabbed a gym bag. The rush of adrenaline made me purge my stomach of the whiskey from the night before, but as soon as I flushed the toilet I was mid-step towards the front door.
The assassin was coming in the next year. And I would be ready for him.
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[ WP ] A woman was just killed in a hit and run . Make me feel like the driver had no other choice .
| From the alleyway Butlersrevenge watched as the police cordon was rolled across the street by a morose officer. The body of the woman was gone, hastened to the hospital though her fight for life was already lost, but her ghost lingered in the carnage of the scene and it had hit him hard; though not as hard as the car had hit her. Turning, the driver of the car ran from the scene before more officers arrived. I had no other choice, he thought, I had no other choice!
Butlersrevenge ran through alleys and slowed to a walk as he hit a main road. He rearranged his hair on his balding head and looked around him as a fox would look for hounds. A police car turned a corner up ahead. Looking around frantically he spotted the entrance to an internet cafe. He went inside.
He needed to calm his frayed nerves. He sat at a computer and his shaking hands typed reddit.com/r/writingprompts into the address bar. Some well-written stories by a group of lovely and intelligent people would calm him, he knew. But that's when he saw the new submission, under an hour old, staring out at him like the eyes of the woman he had just killed. How? How did he know?
*
After climbing through his window, Butlersrevenge stood behind VIOLENT_POOP with a gun in his hand and desperation in his heart. The dark stinky room was littered with pizza boxes and brightly coloured My Little Pony dolls sat grinning from shelves. He had to move used tissues aside with the toe of his boot to creep toward the computer, sneering at the now hard paper as it crumpled underfoot. The sound of unlatching the safety caught OP's attention and slowly, wide-eyed, he turned around. After what seemed an age, Butlersrevenge found his voice:'I had no other choice... I HAD NO OTHER CHOICE!'
Butlersrevenge's hand trembled as the humanity of VIOLENT_POOP looked out at him imploringly. A puddle appeared first under the sitting man, then slowly dripped to the floor. OP gulped...'OK, man. It's OK, I believe you!'. Seconds passed like hours:'I ai n't gon na tell nobody. No way! Do n't you worry.' The smell of ammonia filled the room. The thought occurred to Butlersrevenge that he could never be sure OP would n't change his mind later. He knew what he had to do.
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[ WP ] You 're a door-to-door thief who visits houses when everybody is off at work , but today , you walk into someone about to hang themselves .
| I ’ m not exactly proud of what I do, but it ’ s just become…well, routine. No different to everyone else in this torturously boring old town. I wake up, eat a bowl of Nutri-Grain, put on a hooded jumper and head off to work.
Except my work is slightly less legal than most.
I take things. No, nothing of real importance. Just things people won ’ t miss. Or will just assume they lost it.
Today was not the same though. Something felt different. As I stepped outside the sun washed over my face, however the air carried a slight chill that made me shiver. I curled my morning-stiff fingers into a fist and pondered the nagging sensation. I dismissed it as a slight irking from my long suppressed conscience. I got those sometimes. But they never lasted long.
Ignoring the feeling, I took a deep breath and let the cool breeze glide through my nostrils, filling my sinuses with the fresh morning air.
I set off. I thudded along the pavement posing as a runner, stopping in at houses when it was clear. I had it down to a science. I was never afraid of being caught because I trusted my gut.
Except for this time. There was no one in sight, there was no car in the driveway. The air was still and silent, aside from the faint perfume of recently baked goods that seemed to cling to it. No cause for alarm though, these pleasant aromas often hung around the sleepy town. I tested the side door. It opened with a shriek that made me wince, and I turned into the main hall, headed for the stairs.
My stomach dropped into my pants and my heart skipped into my throat. There was someone at the top, staring down lazily, seemingly unaffected that someone was intruding. I needed to run, but I froze. If I had run, I would have been long gone, back home praying not to hear wailing police sirens. But something caught my attention.
The hunched looming figure had a noose around his neck
“ Oh hello there. If you just give me a sec, you can take what you like. I won ’ t need it ” Apathy dripped from his words like honey from a spoon.
“ Shit mate. What are you doing? ” I was torn. My eyes darted from exit to exit, quickly analyzing all possible exits.
“ I think it ’ s quite obvious ” no emotion could be found in his monotonous drawl.
*Fuck*, I thought. *How can I leave this guy*. Maybe I flirted with the law a little, but I wasn ’ t a monster
“ Hey mate, calm down a sec. lets have a chat ”
His eyes finally peered down at me. They were cold and grey, almost lifeless.
“ There ’ s nothing for me friend ”
“ You ’ ve got a huge house, surely can ’ t be here on your own, ” I was stalling, scrambling for things to talk about
“ No, I have my wife, Jen. And two kids, Thomas and Mary. ”
“ Jen? Jen Whitecliff? She works at the Broadstreet Bakery right? And your kids, they go to the local school? You must be Steve Whitecliff? My names Kevin, nice to meet you ” I extended a nervous hand in a limp wave, unsure of how to address this introduction. Nevertheless, a slight smile seemed to pull at his lips. My heart skipped with apprehension.
“ Yeah. Yeah that ’ s us… ” the sad man trailed off slightly.
“ Well I ’ m sure that they ’ d love to see you when they come home tonight, Steve ”
“ Doubtful, ” it was more of a whimper than a proper answer. “ I…I-I was unfaithful. I betrayed our marriage and I can ’ t live with it ”
“ Shit man, that ’ s rough…I know that makes you feel awful. But I can promise you, there ’ s always a reason to live ” I tried my best a being empathetic. It was never my strong suit. “ It seems to me that you weren ’ t happy in your marriage. I ’ m sure if you and Jen talked it out, you could figure something out. At least discuss what caused you to…explore ”
This caused another flicker of a smile. “ Maybe you ’ re right, Kev ”
That made me cringe. I hated being called Kev.
“ Come down from there and we can grab a beer and I can help you figure out what you ’ re going to tell Jen, ” I outstretched my arm as if to guide him down the stairs.
Steve looked me in the eye and gave me a firm nod.
“ One condition. Don ’ t call me Kev. ” I smirked, and this time I was greeted with stifled laughter. Steve turned to climb down from the banister.
My eyes widened. My Jaw dropped. Breath escaped my lungs as if forced form my chest.
He slipped. With a giant leap forward I tried to take his weight. I was met with a piercing crack that echoed throughout the house. His neck had broken.
“ No! Fuck, Shit. NO! ”
I held his limp figure up, as if I could somehow lift the life back into him. I couldn ’ t stay. I ’ d be caught with all the stolen property from today. Tears soaked my face for the first time in years. I pushed his body away, frustrated with my incompetence. I turned and without another word quietly left.
Empathy never was my strong suit. The air was still. Silent. Augmented by the smell of freshly baked goods.
|
[ WP ] You have `` reverse shizophrenia , '' meaning that instead of percieving things that are n't there , you are unable to percieve a person ( or thing ) that everyone else can percieve , with your mind filling in the blanks .
| Half a year ago my dad disappeared. After he had been gone for two days, I asked my mom where he was. She just answered that he was at work and would come home late as he normally did. He did n't and I decided not to inquire my mom about it. After all they might have had relationship issued, trying to keep me out of it.
We did n't have a close relationship me and dad. He worked all day and came home late. However, I was getting really worried about him, it could n't be helped. Again I asked where he had gone, and why he had n't been home for over a week. She worriedly told me that I should n't make jokes like that. He did n't answer when I messaged him and when I called the automatic voice mail always answered.
My dad was gone, I could n't contact him, and my mom just told me not to joke around or If I was okay when I asked her about it. When I inquired at his work, they told me he had been in working as he always did. When I arrived home there was a letter from my dad posted on my bed.
`` Mike
Will you please start talking to me again.
I'm worried!
Dad''
I remember taking the letter downstairs. Yelling a my mom demanding an explanation. The next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital. I've been there since. The doctors asked me to write this, to help me understand that my dad is still here. That I have `` Reverse Shizophrenia''. That my mind can not perceive him. That my dad exists everywhere else than in my world.
|
[ IP ] Come here , little one ...
| I pulled my brother into an embrace. He buried his face into my body and latched on tightly. His tears were already soaking through my shirt, and I felt my eyes burning with the strain of keeping my own at bay.
I placed my hand under his bottom so I could pick him up. The door was still open, and with every passing second, the noise down the hall grew louder. This was an everyday occurrence. Ordinarily, I'd bring him into either his room or theirs, but I knew from experience that today the bedrooms were the worst place for refuge. The first thud sounded dully through the house, and I shut the door with more force than I had intended to.
The bathroom was always the worst place to ride out these storms. There was never anything soft in here. I took a towel and placed it into the bathtub, to brace my back, and I lifted him inside. We could lay in here until it was over. I hugged him tighter to me, and lowered my face until it was touching the crown of his head. With the confidence I had made us as safe as possible, my own tears began to fall. I could taste the salt, and knew I'd answer for looking like such a mess later, but for now I just pressed closer to my young brother. Right now, I was the only thing keeping him safe.
The worst part about the bathroom was n't that the only place to lay down was the tub, or even how cold it was. It was that you could feel all the vibrations of the house through the cheap plastic sides in a way that just was n't possible anywhere else. Each cry of pain took on a new dimension, and it was almost as if we could feel the blows ourselves. I shut the shower curtain and started to sing a lullaby.
Often, I would sing to him. It was the only way I could keep myself distracted enough to get through these nights. In the morning, I would go to school and be questioned as to why my homework was incomplete again. He would spend the day at the daycare where they neglected him in a playpen all day, and she would go to work. Hard labour, fresh bruises notwithstanding.
They were just outside now, having migrated from the living room towards the bedroom they shared. I knew it would be over soon. Although I did n't understand it at the time, I'd often hear rapid more quiet noises after these brutal conflicts. Frantic coupling in an attempt by both of them to smooth it over for their own reasons.
A gasp, and a crash. It sounded like broken glass. Something she'd have to clean up later, no doubt. I tried not to think about it as I heard the door shut behind them. I had to get my brother to bed before I could go off to sleep myself. I had school in the morning.
|
[ WP ] Comic book geek discovers that he has superhero abilities . All of them . Each time he uses a power , he does not know which one will it be .
| I was given a button. A red button. I did n't know what it did or where it came from, I only knew that amazing things happened when I pressed it. I pressed it once and ended up in China. I pressed it again and lasers shot from my eyeballs. I pressed it again and I was a rabbit. A manly rabbit.
All I'm saying is that the button changed my life, but I could not control it.
There was once a girl that I really, really liked. Like, really, really liked. I tried to impress her with the button. I pressed it and got massive muscles. Then she pressed it and I turned into an insect. I tried posting the experience to /r/TIFU, but I did n't know what to write. I mean, what could I have written? `` TIFU by accidentally bugging out in front of my dream girl''? I feel like that's really cliche.
Regardless, the powers I seemed to get from the button only lasted until I pressed it again... Well, that's how I thought it worked until I received the power to create clones. Obviously, I used the power to it's fullest because it had a lot of utility in school. I could skip school, go out on dates, and study all at the same time. Unfortunately, this meant that one of my clones was always doing something it did not want to do. That one was finally sick and tired of working for me and decided to change powers on his own by pressing his own version of the button. The clones powers changed, but mine did not. This freed him from my direction. He could do whatever he wanted.
At first, my clone only did little things, like play pranks and such in my name. I quickly covered it up by calling him my identical twin... but after a while, he became unstable. Incredibly unstable. He would make jokes about slaughtering innocent babies or drowning me so he could live outside of my shadow. I finally could n't take it anymore and told him to leave.
He did and I thought that was the end of it. That was until I picked up the paper a few days ago. It read, `` Supervillain'Red Goblin' threatens all Arkhamtropilis.'' Red Goblin? That was the most menacing name they could come up with?
Regardless, it was then that I knew what I had to do. I had to become the hero that the city deserved:
Button Boy
|
[ WP ] You buy a drone , and every time you fly it you seem to catch an accident to film , then you upload the video online . People start to notice the trend .
| Everyone knows why he's looking around nervously. He puts down his drink, feeling like someone's staring at him, someone knows. He can feel eyes. He can feel millions of eyes on him at this moment. The door is locked. There's nowhere he can go.
A dark line runs down his leg. `` I'll never live this down,'' he thinks. He's seen the videos. He knows the camera is pointed right at him as he had his... accident.
He takes out his phone, texts his friend, `` Hey man, great party, but I gtg, be back later.'' He speeds home, weaving in and out of traffic, narrowly missing the cars around him.
He skids into his driveway and looks around. *'' FUCK YOU! `` * He shouts as he sees the drone flying off, capturing all the footage necessary. [ He opens his browser on his phone, goes to YouTube and unsubscribes from his previously favorite channel `` Lol caught u on camera. `` ] ( http: //www.myfunnyreaction.com/media/k2/items/src/e92dc519c3c1d0000e5795e41f4c6df5.jpg )
|
[ WP ] Nicolas Cage appears at your doorstep and asks you to help him steal the Declaration of Independence . What happens ?
| `` Help me steal... THE DECLARATION... of Independence.'' I could n't believe my senses. Nicolas Cage was cavorting on my front stoop, one minute seemingly at ease, the next acting like a wild man.
`` I... did n't see the new Left Behind,'' I confessed. Surely I was dreaming. The response seemed appropriate.
Nicolas Cage stood still then, peering at my face. `` Well, you see, a certain Mel Gibson and I have a bet. If I win, he is not allowed to direct Iron Man 3 for Robert Downey Jr. If he wins... I have to... well, let's just say,'' he began gesticulating wildly, `` I have to convince John Travolta to make Face Off 2!''
`` I...'' I did n't know what to say or what to do, I was n't even sure this was really Nicolas Cage. Lamely, I asked, `` what was the bet?''
He began peering at my face again. It was hypnotizing in a way. `` I have to steal Mr. Gibson's yacht. The Declaration of Independence.''
I frowned, adjusting my robe over my boxer shorts. `` I do n't see how I can help you, why did you come to me?''
He chuckled mechanically, `` my good man, you are the bank manager at First Federal Bank, yes?'' My frown deepened. `` Well,'' he continued, `` there's an extra key to the boat house grounds in a safe deposit box at your bank.'' He smiled smugly then, leaning forward until his face was nearly in front of mine.
My frown could deepen no further. `` You're robbing my bank? I do n't think so.'' I slammed the door in his face. I turned the lock and stepped towards the living room where my cellular phone was charging. The door splintered open behind me.
`` Not so fast,'' Nicolas Cage bellowed, his foot still stretched before him from kicking in the door. I screamed at this point and tried to run. He was too fast. He moved like a spider as he tackled me. I could feel my eyes tear up as he held me down and whispered in my ear, `` not so fast, piggy.''
I do n't remember much between then and when I was opening the safe deposit box. I know that we walked into the bank together, a cartoonish switch blade hidden against my side as he smiled maniacally at my staff and pretended to carry out a bombastic conversation with me. I handed him the keys. `` Please, just go.''
`` You've been a good sport, I think I will take my leave.'' I sighed with relief as he walked out. I stepped from the vault to contact the police just as a man stepped in front of me.
`` Hey now, let's have a word about a bet.'' Robert Downey Jr. smiled at me charmingly. That smile did not reach his eyes. I could feel the sweat pop out on my skin.
|
[ WP ] A popular superhero comes to your lair to end your crime spree . It turns out that they 've been hiding their real superpower in front of the media because it 's too frightening and unheroic .
| `` Y-your coffee, sir.''
Good. You liked this new intern, he cowered at your profane majesty much more than the last one.
And by God, if you did n't look cool and villainous right now. You turned away to gaze out over the edge. From his perspective you must have been silhouetted against the glow of the city, ( designer brand ) cape billowing out in that special way that one could only achieve when looking down from the from the top of a skyscraper.
By the end of the night, your plan would have-
What the hell was he doing?
You could hear him behind you making a sound like a dog eating spaghetti off a tile floor, combined with an uncomfortable leather-on-leather squeal.
Then came a new voice, `` You've gone far enough. Surrender now.''
You whirled to find the legendary Permuto standing behind you, in all his chiseled, Adonis-like Glory.
But you were n't scared.
Sure, he could transform into anyone, but he was a negotiator, not a fighter. With your steel skin and iron will, he could n't take you in either arena.
`` What are you gon na do?'' you cackled, `` Turn into my mother and make me feel bad? You're in over your head!''
Permuto looked bored. In fact, he was n't even giving you the time of day, looking around and wondering aloud where the news helicopters were. How dare he!
You crushed the tiles underfoot as you threw yourself at him, your nails glinting like, well, nails in moonlight. He did n't even know what hit him, and you now found yourself three knuckles deep into his diaphragm.
You would smirk, had he reacted. Instead he you gave you another look.
`` A-acting tough are we?'' you hissed.
Seriously though, what was up with this guy?
`` Hey, uh, this is a secret, but I'm sure you wo n't squeal on me,'' he drawled, `` Transforming into other people is n't my power.''
Then the pierced flesh around your hand began to seal. Then it began to creep up your arm.
`` It's just to transform my body.''
You pulled your arm back, only for ribbons of meat to follow with a slurping sound and continue to constrict you.
`` This is ok,'' you told yourself, `` This is fine.'' Only, he was growing larger by the second.
Ok maybe it was n't fine. You began to thrash.
`` Well, if you wo n't come nicely...'' he boomed.
All at once, with the familiar sound of a dog eating spaghetti off a tile floor, his skin ruptured and his body erupted into creeping tentacles of viscera.
It was a good thing that your bladder was also steel, otherwise you likely would have pissed yourself.
`` Nu-uh. No. No! No way! NO NO NO NO-''
But by that point they were already crawling over your skin with the strength of countless ( gooey, disgusting ) spiders' silken threads, dragging you inexorably towards the central mass, which was itself growing more teeth and eyes by the second.
`` JUST TURN INTO MY MOM OR SOMETHING! I GIVE!''
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -
Officer McLaughlin shook Permuto's hand as the Iron Kurtain was taken away in cuffs.
`` You really did a number on this guy, huh? He's not even putting up a fight.''
Permuto laughed that practiced, baritone superhero laugh, then replied, `` Yeah, well, you know how it is. Villains hate it when you turn into their moms.''
|
[ WP ] You have a watch which can either go backwards in time 10 seconds or forward in time for 10 seconds . You can pick one direction to use one time in your life .
| * “ Perchance to fix a quick mistake, or pass over a terrifying moment of fate. To choose only one is your assigned task. Either jump to the future, or relive the past. ” *
It was a mysterious sounding rhyme, and I wasn ’ t sure I should take it seriously or not. I was combing through my attic when I had found the watch with the cryptic inscription. There was a note attached to it explaining the rhyme.
*DO NOT TOUCH THE WATCH UNTIL YOU ’ VE FINISHED READING THIS NOTE! On the side of the watch is a dial. You can turn it clockwise until it clicks to set it to jumping forward in time, or you can click it once counterclockwise to set it to jumping backward in time. Be warned, once you set the watch, it will stay on that setting until you die. The period it jumps you either forward or backward is ten seconds. The watch needs about a minute to recharge between jumps. To activate, just tap the dial. Choose wisely. *
Huh, clicking it backwards would allow me to fix some small mistakes in life, but clicking it forwards would allow me to skip the truly harrowing moments. I heard someone say that many great things are accomplished with just 15 seconds of pure courage. With this I watch I could have at least ten of those seconds. I could be infinitely brave for those ten seconds. I could live with making mistakes. Now I could skip all of the truly scary moments in life! I click the watch clockwise, and test it out. I throw a little ball in the air and tap the dial
It works. I have a small bruise on my head, and the ball has rolled to the other side of the attic. I didn ’ t feel the impact at all. The residual pain yes, but not the impact. This is going to be so useful for my date tonight!
Three hours later me and Jenna are sitting on a park bench. The sun is setting, my arm is around her, and the mood is right. The only problem is I ’ m as nervous as a moose at an NRA convention. Thankfully I ’ ve got the cure to my nervousness on my wrist. I tap her on the shoulder to turn towards me. As she looks me in the eye I tap the nob.
“ You know I see you more as a friend. ” She says.
|
[ WP ] Write a superhero whose superpower only makes sense after you read the story twice .
| It was another long trip in the car. Greg had another 4 hours of driving to go, and maybe enough gas to make it all the way there. Feeling an urge, he cracked the window as he leaned forward a little in his seat, positioned his body and arms, and began urinating out the window of the speeding car.
This was a skill Greg had acquired as a boy. Doctors were n't sure how to explain it with any word other than `` superpower''. And though he would probably never fight crime or save anyone's life, Greg could pee out of his finger, and that was good enough for Greg.
|
[ WP ] Half an hour of a stream of conscience
| Stream of conscience has always been a barrier for me. I fucking hate that bit in The Sound and the Fury. Faulker can eat a fatty. But I'll give this a try because why the hell not? Listening to Burial is neat accompaniment to writing, and I'm feeling nauseous so channeling my thoughts into dots and pixels will be relaxing. Maybe taxing. It's definitely taxing to overcome the filter. I'm rhyming, that's the filter coming through. Fuck the filter. It's going down.
I seem to have a foul inner-voice. That should really be stopped, perhaps it bleeds through into other aspects of my thoughts. Potentially poisonous.
Anyways.
I feel like these line breaks really help with structuring my thoughts, because we all pause from time to time.
This music's flowing into me and flowing out of me and onto this screen. It's a bit silly, really, that I'm pouring out every single impulse into this web, trapped forever and able to be viewed by anyone. It's comforting, though, because a little imprint of my mind and its faults and logic and intricacies will be engraved for eternity. I'm liking this. Faulker was on to something.
But he still sucks.
The tempo of the music has shifted. So has my mind's rhythm.
This feels akin to meditation, I love it. I am very focused, my thoughts are channeled to the here and now, where they normally stray far away from it. Perhaps I'll do this more often. Either way, I am really enjoying this prompt. Thanks, OP!
Thinking of OP reminded me that he will be reading this. Just talking about him/her makes me a bit shy, because they will be judging me and my thoughts but I want to write, damnit, and so do they, so I'm not THAT afraid. I feel like this blending of thoughts and rhythms and psyches here from these streams of consciousness blending together makes us all one, in a silly new-age sort of way.
I just hiccuped and nearly vomit
My cat distracted me and disrupted what was going through my head, but I'll leave that unfinished bit because even the paths with no destination were going somewhere, and so it'll stay
I'm not going to do the full 30 minutes because this has taken less than 10 and I've other things to do, but here are my thoughts and words, forever and ever
|
[ WP ] There are three fundamental forces that balance the universe . Creation , Destruction , and Procrastination . Procrastination has disappeared and now all hell has broken loose .
| Vishnu gave a sigh of exasperation. The world had changed. It had been 4000 years since he was last on Earth, and boy had it changed since then. When it was last his turn to correct humanity's path, they had been far more amenable towards instruction. How badly had Shiva and Brahma screwed up during their dimillenial patrols?
The holy trinity - Brahma the creator, Shiva the destroyer and Vishnu the Procrastinator - guardians of civilizations, protectors of life, elected leaders of the Universal Accord had one job, just one. To keep the various worlds of the universe in balance. And somehow, those other two buffoons managed to screw up their parts.
And that was n't even the most annoying bit. How hard was it to get his title correct? Vishnu the Preserver? What was he, a jam-maker? You never heard people screw up the other two's titles - Shiva the tryhard, always going too far in his indoctrination, or Brahma the layabout, who had to be coaxed to even get out of bed. It was their fault Earth was where it was. He had tried his best to do his job - to maintain balance somehow when the other two were intent on ripping the world apart with their terrible ways, but there was only so much one God could do.
He was done. He crushed his cosmic lotus, and annihilated his Chakra with an anti-Chakra. He was done here. Surely there were better jobs in other universes.
And fuck those Hindus for screwing up his title. He knew he should've landed in Egypt instead.
-- -- --
Jason rose in his bed to a cacophony of bird-songs. What the FUCK was going on? It was as if every bird in the city had taken it upon itself to announce the arrival of dawn. Oh well, that meant he could get to work sooner.
*That's strange*, said a strangely familiar voice in his head. *Usually I would have turned over and slept until my 3rd or 4th alarm. *
What? That was absurd, what was to be gained by sleeping late? He had to keep that lazy part of himself in check. 30 minutes later, after a quick breakfast, a quicker shower and an even quicker run to the campus, Jason was in his lab, firing up his computer.
There was something different about today. He felt like he could conquer the world. All those problems that had been holding back his research for all these months, today he would beat them all. He could feel it.
20 seconds passed. Damn this laptop. It was barely a year old. Why was it booting so slowly? He had to do something about it. Time to ask the good ol' folks at Stack Exchange about it.
*www.stackexchange.com*. He waited. Those damn birds were still at it. He plugged in his earphones, put on some music and switched back to the browser. The website was taking forever to load. Was there something wrong with his internet too? He tried opening Facebook in another tab. Yup, fast as ever, perhaps even faster. So his internet was fine. Maybe it was an issue with stackexchange. Guess he'd have to settle for help at /r/techsupport then.
He logged on to www.reddit.com.
*Why do n't you check out /r/all for a bit? * That niggling voice spoke up again. He clicked it before he had a chance to question himself.
Frowning, he looked at today's top submissions. Writingprompts, dataisbeautiful, art. Was this really /r/all? Where were all the cat pictures and advice animals? /r/techsupport did n't seem to be much better off. There were literally hundreds of new threads appearing every minute, and no one seemed to be willing to reply to any of them. What was going on? Why were n't people helping anyone else? Well, he did n't have time to think about that. He had things to do.
-- -- --
Jerry had been planning his escape for days now. That was n't his real name, of course, but that's what the He-idiot with the Swiss Cheese colored fur and the She-idiot with the Tea colored fur called him.
Every day they put him in that god damn maze and hid his food, making him run around for ages. His cage had n't been cleaned for a week now. He did n't understand how a species as incompetent as the Cheese-he had managed to dominate the world for so long now. His ancestral memories told him of a time when they had competed on equal footing. He wondered what led to this travesty.
Maybe it was his own species' willingness to go along with things. Take his own feeble attempts from the last few days at making a run. He had barely even tried to jump away.
A shiver passed through him as he broke out of contemplation. What was wrong with those birds? His memories told him to make a run for it. The only times the birds were so noisy was when there were predators about. But there were no predators in Boston, were there? Not in this building at least. Unless you counted that fat cat that liked to look at him some times.
His ears pricked up as the She-idiot approached. It was time for action.
-- -- --
Jaya was a woman on a mission today. She had been surprised and slightly disappointed that Jason had got into the lab before her. Since she was the one who set up the experiment, and Jason was the one who managed the data collection, it was usually she who came in earlier. She would kill him for taking away her glory. Wait, what? What was wrong with her today? She'd been feeling angry all morning. She whispered a silent apology to Lord Vishnu for letting such a violent thought cross her mind, and walked to her desk.
`` Oh hey Jason, you're here early today'' she said to him as she took her seat at the desk next to him, in what she hoped was a fairly cheery voice. Her instincts raged at her, to hit him, kill him for taking away her right from her. but somehow she maintained control.
`` Yeah, there's work to be done. As soon as I can fix this broken piece of shit.''
It was getting hard keeping her fists in check. She tried her best to smile as she stood up to make her way to the interior of the lab, all the while chanting the *gayatri mantra* in her head to distract herself from wanting to smash Jason's head into pieces with her bare hands.
`` Why do n't you do that while I go set up the experiment?''
She walked to the cage to fetch the mouse. Little Jerry looked cute as ever. Well, it was glad that at least some things did n't change. She'd had to walk to work today because the trains were all full. It had n't been a pleasant experience. She had witnessed three accidents in the 10 blocks she had walked. People just seemed to have lost all patience today. Not to mention those god damn birds and their god damn singing.
She reached her hand into Jerry's cage to carry him to the maze, and all hell broke loose.
-- -- --
`` EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE'' Jaya screamed as Jerry bit her thumb and leapt out of her hand. Her rage bubbled over and escaped in the form of another scream. This one was more of a war cry though, `` AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRGHHHH'' she screamed and ran after the mouse as he ran across the open floor towards the door. She picked up a lamp from a desk near her, throwing it at the mouse, all the while invoking curses from Vishnu and Shiva on all of mouse-kind.
She had n't been much of a cricketer in school, and it showed, as the lamp flew well away from its mark, hitting Jason on the back of his leg. It was now Jason's turn to let out a howl of pain. He jumped up and screamed at Jaya, `` WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?''
`` JERRY! JERRY!'' she screamed as she chased after the mouse. She had just reached the doorway when a black form streaked across. She did n't have time to avert her course before she tripped on Tom the tom-cat and went flying into the person just exiting the elevator
*CRASH*
Professor Jenkins had barely stepped out of the elevator when his senior grad student crashed into him at a speed that could not have been too far away from the speed of light.
Further away he noticed his 12 year old arthritic black cat somehow catch and swallow the last of his genetically modified mice. Outside, the sounds of fire engines were starting to draw closer while further ahead of him he could hear loud sounds of glass breaking from inside his lab.
He pushed Jaya off him and rushed forward to see what was going on. Jason, the other idiot on his payroll had picked up one of the 100,000 dollar cameras they had spent the last 2 years building, and was using it to smash Jaya's computer screen and her little collection of idols.
How many days had he woken up wishing his students would be more proactive? He would never do so again.
|
[ WP ] You are a young girl who is currently going through a coming of age trial where you must guard your village 's sacred shine . The catch is that you 're atheist and have never believed . That is until the Goddess of your villages faith appears before you calling you to be her champion .
| Alright, I can admit it, the leggings almost make this worth it. I ca n't say how many times I've been out playing with the boys and my skirt's become tangled, my dress torn. And then there are lectures and recriminations.
It's impossible to hunt in them. The tightly wrapped skirts are meant to make us modest. To walk with decorum. To be ladylike. Train us for our posts as wives and mothers.
All dreadfully boring.
Today though, the adults are all in on the game. I am not a princess, but a warrior princess, on a sacred mission to guard Basmah's shrine. I am garbed in a white tunic and hart-skin leggings. My armor gleams in the sunlight. The only problem is, they do n't know it's a game.
I've known for some time that the goddess is n't real. The crops do n't die because she's angry with us, they die because there's no rain. People do n't fall ill because they are out of favor, but because they dance in the rain and it chills them.
Father says my ideas are nonsense, that I'll understand when I'm older, and that I must Never Say Such Things where anyone can hear. From the corner of my eye, I see him now, nervously biting his thumb as our procession passes. Does he think I will renounce the goddess here in front of everyone? Well, it *would* be amusing. How the boys would laugh! But I'd like to leave childhood behind some day. Marry and have children. They might banish me, if I spoke against the goddess here.
We've almost reached the shrine. The drums are beating - wild, and savage. How can we call ourselves civilised and still participate in these backwards rituals? Still, my body is not immune. My heart pounds in rhythm with the music. I should just go with it. Lose myself in the game.
Tomar is near the shrine. His eyes glint with merriment. He would laugh at my slow, womanly pace, one foot barely passing the heel of the other, if his own father had n't such a firm grip on his collar. I'll never hear the end of this. The one time I have leggings, when my legs are free to move, and I must march slowly.
But at last, my foot touches stone. I can not feel it. These boots are too thick to feel the ground change. Leggings I understand, but I do n't know how men manage without slippers. Though I'd much prefer my feet bare.
A hand appears to help me onto the dais. I am strong for fourteen summers, and especially strong for a girl, but in Aldon's hand, mine looks tiny and white. I step up, and turn. I look down on the village. Everyone is here for this. The other girls of my year step up beside me.
A few are squirming, made uncomfortable by the hart-skin on their inner thighs. They wish for their skirts, and their faces redden under the gazes of the boys in the crowd.
The drumbeats cease, and Aldon raises a hand. We unsheath the blades at our hips. We are, all of us, fumbling and slow. I've played at swords before, with the boys, using sticks, but never with steel, and never with a sheath. We're only given one chance to practice, the day before the ceremony.
Asham nearly removes her own arm. At least I've done better than the rest. Hilt in both hands. Blade up, the tip centered between our eyes. It is heavier than I'd thought. My arms tremble.
Point the blade to the village. Now to the ground. Kneel. Hands flip as you kneel. Forehead to the sword hilt.
The elders are praying. The stone is cold under my knee, now that the sun casts the shrine's shadow upon it.
Rise. Hands still clasped on the sword. Asham has tears forming, I'd wager. She is the smallest of us. My muscles burn. Hers must be on fire.
Malak's speech seems to go on forever. It never seemed so long, standing among the villagers. But all things end, and after an eternity, the speech does as well.
We kneel again. The goddess's blessing is wiped onto our foreheads. It is truly goat's milk, dyed with the juice of blackberries. I helped to mix it. Malak uses it to draw on our faces, a crescent in a star, Basmah's sign. Another speech, thankfully not as long as before, and he leads us into the temple.
The shrine is draped in a white cloth. Upon it is set a silver carafe and six crystal glasses. Malak pours the wine, and we drink. We kneel again, before the shrine. Malak removes the cloth and drapes it, instead, over our heads. We are one with the shrine. We are its guardians.
I can hear his footfalls leaving the temple. We are alone. For the rest of the evening, we remain under the cloth. When night falls, it is time to emerge, to circle the shrine and stand vigilant till dawn.
Vigilant against what, no one knows. Nothing has ever come.
It's hard not to sleep. The village goes back to normal outside, but here in the temple all is quiet and still. The cloth filters out what little light seeps through the arched doorway. All around me is the hushed breathing of the other girls, slow and steady. My body is calm, but my heart still wants to race to the now-silenced drums.
My eyelids drift down. The flutter of lashes on my cheek reminds me I must stay awake.
`` Ashra,'' a voice whispers my name.
`` Shh,'' everyone hushes at once. We are not allowed to talk, this night.
The voice quiets, but calls out again a few moments later. `` Ashra, is it time? I ca n't keep my eyes open.''
If it is n't time, it should be.
`` Then close them, as well as your mouth, and pray,'' Athana hisses.
Old bossy bird. I throw the cover back, ready to spite Athana even if it is n't time yet. Moonlight streams in the door of the temple, but stops far from us. `` It is time,'' I say.
We move to our posts, facing outward, forming a ring around the shrine.
The movement is meant to be smooth, fluid, and graceful. It should be dignified. I stand facing north, facing the door. Athana shoves me with her hip. `` Move it, Ashra,'' she says. `` You're in my spot.''
Enough is enough. I bet I can wield this sword better than she can. I'll chop her stupid face off. `` Says who?''
`` My mother. *She* says you do n't even believe in the goddess. *She* says you pray to the weather. My *mother* says you should n't even be here.''
`` That's why no one wanted to marry your mother after your father left,'' I say. `` She's an old bossy bird like you.''
`` Take that back.''
`` I wo n't.''
`` We're supposed to be quiet,'' Asham whines.
`` You just shut your face, you stupid baby.'' Athana raises a hand as if to slap the other girl.
`` You do that and I'll knock your head clean off,'' I say.
Athana rounds on me again. `` You do n't even leave offerings on Basaday,'' she says. `` I've peeked at you in service. You only pretend.''
`` Peeking instead of praying,'' I say with mock horror. `` Now you're sure to fall out of favor. You'll come down with crow spots.''
Athana whirls on her heel and stalks away. I can feel her stop when she realizes her impetuousness has cost her the northmost spot. Maybe I should have given it to her. I do n't really believe in the Northern Warrior, or even in Basmah herself, but there's nothing to look at in any other spot. At least here I can watch the moon and stars. What little can be seen of them.
After a bit more tussling, we're all in place, and the hushed prayers of the other girls fills the temple. I begin reciting the words. It helps to mark the time.
A moth flies into the temple. I track its flight with my eyes. It flits around the doorway. Toward us for a moment, then back to the light.
I'm not sure when I sink to the floor. I ca n't say if it was before or after I fell asleep, or if I lasted longer than anyone else.
A noise wakes me. I give my eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom. Girls lay on the floor, all around the shrine, shifting uncomfortably in their armor. A scraping comes from the center of the circle.
`` Who is it?'' I whisper. `` What's there?''
The scraping pauses, begins again.
`` Athana, you're such a child,'' I say. `` We're supposed to be guarding the shrine, not playing with it.''
There is no answer. The scraping continues. I focus on the shrine, squinting to see who is hiding near it. Athana lays on the floor to my right.
The shrine *twists*. It seems at once to collapse in on itself, and to explode with light. A howl comes from the corner of the room. A hissed murmuring surrounds me.
`` Move,'' a voice booms, from nowhere.
Trembling a little, but still mostly certain it's a trick of Athana's, I lift my sword. It is more unweildy than a stick. The balance is different. But I'm not without a few tricks. `` Come into the light,'' I say.
Howling again. Whining.
Why is there light, again? My eyes shift to the shrine. A brilliant white mist gleams from within itself. It is twisting and writhing, rising up from the stone, taking shape. The shape of a woman.
She is beautiful.
There are many pretty girls in the village, and a few truly beautiful women. But this beauty is so pure it is painful. I want to weep. I do n't know who she is, but I want to give her all that I have. I would die to save her a moment of pain.
`` Please,'' I say, falling to my already aching knees.
`` Behind you,'' she says.
I lean to one side as I turn to look, and a shaodow swoops throuygh the air where my head has been. I leap to my feet, slashing wildly at it, yelling out loudly for the girls to wake.
They come to slowly, in different stages of awareness, wondering aloud what is happening. I do n't have to explain. The shadows are everywhere, flapping and diving around us.
One of them touches the figure at the shrine. It shrieks. She shrieks. There's a burst of light, brighter and more radiant than the sun, and the shadow is gone. She is still there, clutching her arm. Wounded?
I hack at the air, my sword slicing, by pure luck, through a shadow, but with no affect.
The girls, even Athana, have followed my lead, swinging clumsily at patches of darkness. Our blades seem useless against them. Athana starts to chase one toward the door.
`` No,'' I call. `` Protect the shrine.''
|
[ WP ] A serial killer stalks a group of college campers . One night the killer makes his move and murders a camper . He returns to camp to decide his next victim but finds the one he murdered perfectly alive .
| All is silent but for the crunching noise between my rough hands. I inhale sharply. The smell of rotting leaves intermingling with the iron stench of blood make my heart pump faster and shivers crawl down my back. Her lifeless eyes stare back at me. The teary look of fear has long left them, replaced by a glassy stare devoid of emotions. She was n't a fighter. Surprisingly, most of them are n't. I lean back and feel the sharp edge of the bone still in my hands. I close my eyes and listen carefully. Yes, the sound of quiet snoring fill my ears. There were still others at the campsite. Now that I hear it, the noise is deafening. I put the last of her body into my burlap sack after finally breaking it down to a manageable size. Georgy will be happy to have a snack, maybe I'll even take him tomorrow. We're an unstoppable team when we're together. It's how we were raised. To hunt.
*'' Daddy?'' I whispered. Even I could hear the tinge of fear that tainted my voice. He turned back to look at me, not even bothering to hide the look of disgust in his steely gaze. `` Daddy, I do n't want t-'' he held up a gloved finger to his lips and I shut up. I tried to gulp back my fear but my mouth was sandpaper dry and it felt like I was trying to gulp down gravel.
He stalked his prey carefully and only recently began taking me on these trips. He had told me `` Eight is old enough to at the very least watch,'' as soon as I woke up. I had n't expected any cake or balloons. Not since Mom died. Georgy was my last birthday present. It was actually a surprise my father was even there for my birthday so I was happy enough to follow.
The first one was a real fighter. She kicked and scratched but every time she tried to scream he would clamp his hand down hard against her throat. It was a game. He had caught his prey and he was batting it around like a cat would a mouse. He looked up at me while he pinned her down but I could n't move. My excitement had long faded.
The second time though, I could n't refuse him. `` C'mere.'' My feet felt heavy as they trudged unwillingly towards the boy. My father handed me his axe. I looked at it with dread. `` Do it.'' I opened my mouth to say something but quickly closed it again. I knew that look in his eyes. `` You know what they did to your mother.'' I nodded. `` Keep your eyes open. Do n't waver. These animals need to see what happens when they come in our home and threaten our family. `` *
`` Georgy,'' I blow out a few quick chirps. He appears from behind a tree nearby. `` C'mon boy, we're going hunting.'' His ears perk up in excitement. The sun's fading light is our signal to begin the defense of our territory. Our home. I grip the fur of his back tightly. They took away Mom when I was just a child and now my father. `` Just me and you, boy,'' I whisper, leaning down to hug Georgy. `` Do n't worry, we'll be together forever.''
We sulk through the woods, blending with the breaths of wind. The rustling leaves mask any soft crunches our padded feet make. The only thing that could possibly betray our position is the even pounding of my heart. I know it has to be done. Our land has to be cleansed of the rapists and sinners from the outside world but still, I ca n't help the heavy feeling I always get when I hunt. It settles into the pit of my stomach and stays there until I can finally cleanse myself of the night.
I blink away the smoke from my eyes. The stench of their fire sickens me but despite our differences, I watch in wonder at our similarities. I pick out the small features that I like. The sharp tip of her nose, the quick curve of his lips... None of the campers in this group act like the beasts that my father always described them as but he warned me about that too. Just because they look like me does n't mean they are like me. I can recall numerous times that I saved someone, screaming and crying for help after one of their own attacks them. These beasts are wild but I try to help the weak, only to have them turn their frightened eyes towards me after.
I am a savior, I save the innocents from their attackers but they always scream when they see the blood. I hate the screaming. It's so loud. Father gets angry when I let them scream so all I can do is make it stop. Silence. I just want to return to silence.
I open my eyes again. Georgy is resting not five feet away. His eyes are alert. A figure steps into the dancing light of the fire and I narrow my eyes. It's impossible. I look back at Georgy. He glances at me as he licks his chops.
`` Tara!'' one of the male campers shouts. `` I got your note so we were n't that worried but you ca n't just abandon us for a whole day!'' He stumbles to her with his beer in his hand and envelops her in an embrace. I watch in amazement.
Everyone takes turns greeting the girl happily. I watch her movements carefully. Am I going crazy? Was last night a dream? No.
The girl turns her eyes towards the group of bushes I have hidden myself within. My breath stops and I swear she looks into my soul. Her eyes are n't the same. Even before I snatched the life from them, they did n't hold the same depth that they do now. The moment passes and the spell her eyes had cast on me release their hold. I wonder if I should continue tonight's hunt but my father's echoing voice decides it quickly. *Fear causes hesitation and hesitation allows evil to breed. * This must just be a new form of evil.
I let their festivities continue well into the night. Finally, everyone has settled into their makeshift shelters. Even the girl, Tara. I have decided. I will take two tonight. The boy that is always so quick to smile and the girl, Tara, to make up for last night's mistake. Before I can even move, I hear a rustling noise behind me.
With a quick spin, I am face to face with her. In the pale moonlight, her eyes shine even more brightly now. Her breath rolls gently down my face with a coolness even beyond winter's chill. Once again, she captures me in her gaze. `` Hello,'' she whispers with a wicked smile.
Georgy watches silently. I can feel his frightened stare, which unnerves me even more because Georgy is never frightened. `` What's your name?'' she asks. Her words dance on the cool breeze of the night. `` Not that it matters,'' she laughs loudly. I listen but no one seems to stir from their slumber. `` You'll all be dead soon anyways, just like the girl whose skin I now wear,'' she admires her hands with a smile.
My heart pounds hard in my ears and finally I manage to rip myself away from her stare. `` Ohh,'' she croons. `` That's rare. Most people are n't able to break my gaze.'' With a quick flip of her hair, she lays herself down next to me. `` Now, usually the only mortals able to do that are either close to death or...'' she looks at me with slightly narrowed eyes and a growing grin. `` Or they are my pets. And by the looks of it, you're a pet.''
I finally manage to open my mouth to try and say something but my voice refuses to come out. A finger slides under my chin and gently closes my mouth. `` Ah yes...'' I fight becoming entranced by her hushed tones. Her eyes stare deep into mine and I stare back into the abyss. Every inch of my body screams but I do n't know why. `` Yes, you are definitely my pet but you're not like most of them. Most of them *want* to kill. Most of them *like* to kill. You, though... You want to save. That's so odd.'' Her eyes snake into my mind and I can feel her reading every part of my life, every breath I've taken, and every one that I've stolen.
`` You were taught to kill. To'hunt'. And you believe it is to protect and save. What a sad thing. You are destined to join the darkness only because of how you were raised. In any other family you may very well have lived a good life and joined the light. Your soul is good. Tsk. Humans are so silly.''
Her cold hand brushes through my hair.
`` It's rare that I find anything interesting nowadays. I've slept for so long because there has been nothing new. Death is always death. The number of deaths in this area finally reached a point where it was reasonable for me to collect the souls and it's all thanks to you. So to show you my gratitude, I'll leave you with two gifts. One is tonight's silence,'' with a quick flick of her wrist, the snoring stopped abruptly. `` The second,'' she leaned in close, `` is my name... Keres.'' While I'm sure it's only a few moments before she speaks again, I feel as if the world stands still for eternity.
`` Say it when the darkness comes for you and you will become one of mine. You will become a collector of souls.'' With a quick brush of her lips against my cheek, she stands up again. My mind is still deciding whether she is just a figment of my imagination or not but the burning cold on my cheek assures me that it is all real. `` With this, you have been marked and with this, I welcome you into my service as a future Reaper.''
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[ CW ] Write an original Middle English Monologue about life and death .
| Yea, what is it to pass beyond those dark and dismal gates, to venture beyond that of mortal man? To see all that you have know to shrink beyond the Western Horizon, to journey fourth to a new dawn the likes you have never dreamed before. What is it to live? What is it to die. What is it to be? This I ask of you.
Life, that sweet fruit that rots in time, whose delicate and gentle notes turn sour and stale who is certain to fail without doubt. What is your point, why do you taunt the children of Adam with your silken lies? Song, cheer, companionship, all these fail in time, as certain as the riverruns past Eve and Adam's. All are certain to join their fellows in the dust, to be made worm meat of themselves, charming and haggard, both poor and rich; all are equal in death.
The merchant's funeral may have hundreds and the pauper's may have none, but both are equal; they do not know for who the mourners are. They are for both, for both are of Adam, and both of are Man. In that they are equal, in death they are equal.
Plow the dirt o'er their graves, it shall grow, and time itself shall forget them as it does kings and queens. Time is the great equalizer of the world. None shall escape it, none o' Earth. And they will ask, who lies buried here, and you shall answer, a person known but to God. It is irreversible, it is unalterable, it is done.
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[ WP ] Malevolent and abusive Gods have been controlling the fates of men for millenniums . Men stood by as their fates were twisted into jokes or sacrificed by the will of these Gods . Now a resistance is occurring . Men are now basing their decisions off of quantum probability . Destroying fate .
| The sacred city burned in crimson and green, bathing the temple steps in a flickering light. Muffled explosions rippled up from the devastation below, mingling with screams and the now all too familiar booming of quantum rips. High above the chaos the temple stood, a mountain against petty winds, the house of the highest gods. Lom remembered this city before the revolt, before the revelation. It was a place of beauty and splendor. Made for those deemed worthy to receive the gifts of the gods. Here the most loyal servants could live among the divine, or at least that ’ s what they were told. His people, humankind, had been slaves for the entirety of their existence. Bound from birth to a god, their lives from were simply the whims of these divine beings. Some reveled in this purpose, and were destined to create things of beauty or destroy whole cities in the glory of their patron. Others, like Lom ’ s brother, were killed off by landslides or disease; often simply because their god was bored. Images flashed into his mind: how light his brother ’ s body was, how the gashes seemed impossibly deep, how that broken mouth could barely even form words. His fists tightened and he doubled his pace up the steps.
The folly of the gods was in their hubris. While humans existed to serve, they existed to further their own splendor. A cosmic competition to see which god could build the highest, create the most beautiful things, crush the most beneath their might. It was said that humans were created when the gods strained from their own game. Why fight and build and exhaust one ’ s own divine being when you could make mortals do the work for you. So the proxy became man, and with the risk mitigated to fleshy servants the stakes rose. The world as man knew it was all at once order and chaos, a wildfire held by iron fists. Despite their infinite knowledge and power, the ingenuity of humans would be their downfall. While humans were busy in their labs researching and pulling back the veil discovery by discovery, the gods became complacent and lazy. They retreated to their temples, unaware that the truth was being laid bare by humans. Lom, lost in thought, suddenly hit the top of the steps. The city spread below him, and a massive triangular opening lay bare in front of him. He breathed in sharply, then stepped into the temple.
“ We will offer you one last chance. Lay down your arms, kneel before us, and we will spare you. ” The voice seemed to come from all corners of the room at once, rushing at Lom ’ s consciousness like a tidal wave, then suddenly receding. The figure directly in front of him moved its lips again, “ I can not say what will happen to the others below, but we are offering you this for the last time. ” It sat leisurely in a massive throne, six arms crossed over its enormous bare chest, and hooved legs hidden beneath a kilt made of pure leaves of gold. Massive horns sprouted from its massive head, and its physical presence was that of a bear speaking to a mouse. Lom walked further, and stared into the face of Zeuz, one of the highest gods. Its face was non corporeal, a constantly changing array of expressions and beings. A woman, then a five eyed arachnid, then a screaming child, then a fanged demon, but all of this at such a speed that Lom ’ s mind whirled. He looked down, hands trembling, and gripped the second sword at his belt.
Humans, as they were constantly pitted against each other by the gods, became experts at war. When the science types discovered the quantum probability, the pure truth, it was only a matter of time before it became weaponized. Lom was simply a warrior, but he understood a little of the babble they told him before the revolt started. They referred to it as a blade that sung, it vibrated from being and non being, from different resonances and different pitches, but all of it at a level deeper even than the building blocks of reality. In short, the blade was completely random, unpredictable, and capable of ripping reality, and cutting down the gods that created it. He set his eyes on the shifting eyes of Zeuz and began to pull the blade from its sheath.
The other gods sitting in a semicircle around him suddenly sat up in their chairs. They could hear it even though Lom could not. Zeuz ’ s face shifted to that of a terrified old man for a lingering second, longer than any other face. Lom paused. Was that the true face of this god, of fear in the face of an impossible death? Faces shifting again, Zeuz stood and the voice boomed. “ You fool, you can not exist without us. You would tear this universe asunder. ” Lom pulled the sword free from its sheath and held it in front of him. “ No more lies, ” Lom shouted, “ We will be free by whatever cost. ” The face of the old man returned to the head of Zuez. The voice spoke softly. “ Look at the city, the damage you have wrought with these weapons has already done too much. Lom turned for a brief moment and saw that Zuez spoke the truth. Destroyed buildings were floating piece by piece upwards, segments of the city began to fracture as if they were a reflection in glass, and cracks appeared in the sky, seeping out blackness. Lom turned back to see the body of Zeuz lunging at him, face of rage and beast and blood.
A flash of brilliant light filled the room, a muffled scream, and the sound of a body hitting the floor. Lom turned to see Zeuz sprawled on the floor, hands desperately trying to hold his form together as his corporeal being itself leaked out of the cut the sword made. His face shifted one last time. Lom fell to his knees. Zeuz ’ s broken mouth could form no words but he locked eyes with Lom. The sword fell to the ground.
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[ WP ] Your strength , longevity , and influence in the afterlife is proportional to how often your name is spoke by the living . Some person crazy enough to get his name changed to `` The '' just died .
| Whispers had swirled among prophets and priests
the true path to salvation needed neither crosses nor wreaths.
Nor good works, piety, selflessness, nor prayer
But memory, thoughts and words of the living delivered us There.
& nbsp;
Not all eternities are decorated in diamonds and mirth,
nor all infinities equal in worth.
The more one ’ s name in death is stated
the greater his afterlife illuminated
& nbsp;
He reveled in sin- hatred, sloth, and avarice
but he ’ d be rewarded in death, he thought, despite his malice.
He changed his name to “ The ” on hearing the rumors
and swallowed some bullets to reach Elysium sooner
& nbsp;
And while not outright wrong, they were clearly incomplete
The quantity of utterances didn ’ t determine our fate
It was the emotion, the meaning, the passion, the love
that lead to greater wealth up Above.
& nbsp;
He smiled as he chose his favorite gun off the rack.
He pulled the trigger. Nothing but black.
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[ WP ] When you die , you are given the chance to flip a coin . If you call the toss correctly , you are allowed to keep living , while resetting to the age of your choice . You 've been doing this for a couple centuries now . Death is starting to get pretty pissed .
| There ’ s a glitch in the matrix. No, no not that movie. I ’ m just using the saying. Everyone gets a chance at a flip. They win the toss, they get to keep living at whatever age they choose; They lose, they go on to the afterlife.
& nbsp;
And I ’ ve seen some lucky cusses, one girl actually won 12 in a row. This isn ’ t about her. No, I ’ m talking about the Glitch, Mr. Connors. He ’ s here every day, for over 25 years and he ALWAYS wins the toss. ALWAYS. I know it ’ s obvious since he gets a new toss every day. That ’ s the next thing, every day, every SINGLE day, he ’ s back here, waiting for his toss. At some point he asked if he had to flip, seemed pointless, I said, “ Of course, deem da rules. ” Around the 10th day I spoke with my boss and he spoke with his boss, who then spoke to his boss. I guess it eventually reached THE Boss. Word I got back, business as usual, if he keeps coming in, then keep flipping the coin and don ’ t stress about, it ’ s fine.
& nbsp;
The last thing, the last bug is a dozy. He doesn ’ t just return and continue his timeline, no, he just vanishes and then, poof, back again the next day. Never seen it before, in all my time and it ’ s been a long time. So, I included this anomaly in my follow-up inquiry. This one didn ’ t even get up the chain. My boss just said, “ The Boss spoke. So, The Boss knows. Just do what he says. ” So that ’ s that. He keeps coming in, usually muttering about an accursed rodent or something, and he keeps winning and I just do my job.
*****
Somewhere an alarm goes off…
*Then put your little hand in mine*
*There ai n't no hill or mountain we ca n't climb*
*Babe*
*I got you babe*
*I got you babe…*
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[ WP ] The death penalty for murder no longer exists , instead technology has been developed that overwrites the mind of the killer with that of their victim .
| Adam Morris had always loved irony. He loved it up until the day he died and in a way he loved the ironic way he died. Murdered by an angry student one credit away from graduation `` English Teacher Bludgeoned by Dictionary'' read the papers. At first after the body reassignment, Adam loved his new life. Living off the governments dime in the rehabilitation program finally gave him time to start his writing career and it was actually a huge success. Within a year his first fiction novel had been published and by year 5 he was considered the number one up in coming young author. Thats one thing that had always troubled Adam, his age. The day he died he was a fifty four and in fairly bad health, the day he was `` reborn'' he was 21. He had already lived most of a life and now he was young again. Younger than his wife, even younger than his own daughter, maybe thats why he left them. Another thing that bothered him was seeing his face on the back of books and on T.V. interviews, is it him they appreciate or the handsome face of a killer. Those were the type of questions he puzzled over in his depressed bouts of alcoholism. He pondered questions right up until the day he died. As he stepped up onto the stool he asked himself one final question.
`` Is this irony?''
`` Am i killing my killer or is my killer just killing me one more time?''
Adam never got that answer either. All he got was a second and final trip to the city morgue.
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[ WP ] It was discovered that gravity will be significantly lower in the next few decades and humanity starts to prepare
| Big G. A seemingly innocuous constant of gravitational theory, known since the time of Newton, that turned out to be not so constant after all. All the astronomical and cosmological evidence turned out to be irrefutable; like the electromagnetic and nuclear forces, it turned out that the strength of gravity was not a constant. Unlike the other forces however, gravity seemed to weaken not only with distance, but with time.
At first, the theory of quantum gravity of the 2220s was hailed upon its arrival like the holy grail of physics. A plethora of Nobel-Fields Prizes were delivered over the years to its discoverers and theoretical physics entered a new era of discovery: the interpretations of quantum mechanics were resolved, all the black hole paradoxes were elegantly tied up and cosmic inflation was demonstrated to occur without a doubt. Physics was making leaps and bounds in uncovering the secrets of the universe.
Society, of course, had moved along since the times of the LHC and SpaceX and onto new frontiers of technology. Humanity's new understanding of nature improved the development and safety of the world; clean energy was developed, geo-engineering reversed climate change. Perhaps the greatest development was the plasma barrier, capable of engulfing and safely halting the process of nuclear fission and fusion, quickly halting the effects of a nuclear warhead leaving nothing more than a plethora of mostly harmless infra-red radiation. Nuclear warheads were now obsolete but with clean energy, renewable mass production of food and artificial rare-earth material generation, what was war useful for anyway?
By 2140 a global revolution had occurred and the UN had truly become a United Nation. Under this prosperity, it did n't take long for other nations to join. Yes, country-districts still had cultural clashes and political feuding, but overall, there was little need to fret and not even much need to work. In fact, some of the greatest collaborations on Quantum Gravity ( QG ) theory by the theoretical physics community only started occurring after the Great Reunification, but certainly the scientific culture of the world had helped drive it into the new era.
The first inkling occurred in 2240. QG had been worked on for decades, a mathematical formulation so abstruse and intricate that it made Quantum Field Theory look like toddler's play ( whereas, in fact, Quantum Mechanics only entered the World Education Curriculum at middle school ). Its realisations and implications were difficult to fathom and whole acres of land were dug out and fitted with supercomputing farms, dedicated to extracting predictions from QG theory. Nowhere near as much as the space allocated to Global Infrastructure calculations, but physics had not been neglected by the UN Computing Resource Council. Since the great A.I. Exodus of 2094 however, all results still had to be parsed by, admittedly genetically and cybernetically enhanced but flawed, humans.
When the predictions of gravity-weakening were first found, it was not thought to be anything significant. Certainly, the physicists were excited, but no one else took much notice. After all, things such as the accelerating expansion of the universe had been known since the beginning of the millennium and certainly, no one fretted about being torn apart by space-time yet. It was a minor effect that would take billions of years to come into effect. Yet as the evidence came in, physicists began to worry. Interstellar signals began to disagree with well established models and the measurements of physical quantities from satellite observations seemed to indicate something peculiar.
As the models were revised and changed, the realisation finally dawned. The value of Big G was shrinking, and much faster than they thought. Gravity, was getting measurably weaker. Not just on Earth, but everywhere in the universe. The news spread by secure-webnet faster than the academic journals could keep up; within days of the discovery that Big G was decreasing, solar physicists had already given humanity its prognosis. With a value of G just a fraction of a percent smaller, the sun's stability would not persist. By just 2275, gravity would be just weak enough that the sun could no longer hold together, and it would explode under its own pressure, expanding to engulf the Earth, the moon colony and irradiate the Martian settlement to extinction.
The UN's control of information in 2240 was different to governments of its comparatively, liberal-minded ancestors of the early 21st century. A carefully controlled economy, calculated to provide for all simply could not remain stable under the totally free movement of ideas and information. As soon as danger had been announced by the Theoretico-Cosmos group to the Select Committee for Global Security, the preparations were under way without the greater public's awareness.
The world became an even more blissful place for the next three decades. Food prices plummeted, what little remained of labour was totally eliminated and society was encouraged to exercise its more hedonistic inclinations. People were assured that technology would manage their lives for them and that hugely improved medical advances would shortly relieve them of all their worries. Clogged arteries, lung cancer, alzheimers would all be eradicated in a matter of decades by computer-led research initiatives.
In truth, the programmers and computer scientists had been sent home and told to enjoy their lives. Many dissident voices were suppressed or agreed to maintain silence in return for a head start in the incoming, global orgy of self indulgence. The legalisation of all drugs turned the world into an intoxicated haze. The only vice truly policed against was violence, but with all material needs provided for and pleasure being had world wide, very few people even felt the need.
So it was that humanity was cradled gently to sleep by those entrusted with its care. Shortly after, the Executive Committee of the UN began to permanently intoxicate themselves to distract themselves haunting truth that hung in the sky. When the sun exploded, only a few hundred thousand people or so even noticed that it seemed to be burning somewhat brighter than usual that day. Against the protestations of Dylan Thomas, as the sun engulfed the Earth and Moon in an explosive fireball, humanity went gently into that good night.
|
[ CW ] Write a story about your username
| The out-dated air conditioning whirled and panted over the top of its static hum. Other than circulate the stale air around the hunky appliance's contribution to the temperature was negligible. Each computer tower radiated its own supplementary warmth into a collective heat. The fans in each rectangular case under the gyprock desks buzzed as a choir. Adding to the composition was the rattle of mechanical keyboards clunking away.
Specks of small lights, mostly green and red littered the dark room. Some flashing routinely while the others remained motionless. Beaming out of the monitors the backlights gripped the concentration of the minds operating them by the eyes.
Driven by determination the team let the clasp of their screen bite harder. The blood vessels webbed further throughout the whites of their eyes growing thicker and further. Their focus had long ago become a trance. Oblivious to their physical environment the final drop of perspiration fell. The olfactory sigil of their breed blended into the air. Musty, hot and silent among themselves they sat there. It was done. The codes were ready. And they were all sweaty as fuck.
|
[ WP ] In a Video Game , if a Player loses to an enemy , all they have to do is reset and fight again until they win . But how does the Player beat the one enemy who can reset as well ?
| Actually quite easy.
Today I was playing my favourite MOBA. I had been queueing ranked 1v1s at an estranged hour. There were few people on, and was constantly being matched up against TROLOLHACKERNARUTARD+1. Hours passed as we traded wins and losses. Finally I had enough. I snapped, as we played our 5th game together I whispered him, `` go kill yourself you're not even good shitter.'' I proceeded to virtually laugh and dance at his character's death location. He responded, `` you dirty nigger, go back to China to eat your kool-aid fried rice.'' After a gruelling match ( which I won because I am the best ) we entered the post lobby where I posted, `` EZ GAME EZ LYFE.'' I never saw that player again, I like to think he understood that he needed to uninstall the game and climb back up into his orc of a mother's pee hole.
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[ WP ] All this genocide , death , and desolation that you have caused is coming to an end ; The heroes are at your gate , and you have failed . Your final attempt to hide the world from the things that sleeps among the stars has failed , it sees you .
| I looked out to the black expanse, the midnight landscape of a solar empire. The human race was spread out before me and I resigned myself to enjoying these last few minutes of primacy.
I had not been a kind leader. The citizens of earth slaved to agriculture. Mars to manufacturing, the Outer Planets to mining. All to make us strong. To give us a chance against the blackness between stars. Genocide and political oppression are powerful tools, but only when used for maximum effect. The children of dissidents were exterminated. Their villages were not. What I thought was a small kindness sowed the seeds of my defeat.
My defenses are smashed. My allies have fled to the edge of the heliosphere and the rebel fleet encircles Luna with capital guns aimed at my doorstep. Through my excesses, I made my enemies strong. I can only hope that they are strong enough.
|
[ WP ] You are a writer struggling to make ends meet that suddenly realizes a famous author is using time travel to steal your ideas .
| ( Oh Ive been waiting for this one )...
I finished my last page. It put me somewhere in the 5000 Park over the past few years.
And how many of them had been good enough to sell?
Very few of them, or so I thought.
and then I got the idea to start cut and paste snippets of my stories into Google.
And guess what came back?
All kinds of insertions of my work into other author's stories. Best selling authors. And when I bought their books, and did some cursory reading, I found out that the vast majority had used my ideas, narratives, and characters, to flesh out their own books and pass them off as originals. and made money doing it.
Not only that, but I then began to wonder about how many other unknown author's paragraphs and ideas had been cut and pasted into other well known/fast selling books...
So I began cut and pasting on a massive scale, and after a solid month of investigation my suspicions were confirmed. This was being done all over the place, across continents and in many different genres in the literary world.
Suddenly it made sense, I had it. I had tracked down the Source from which all of these little ideas had been stolen and semi-plagiarized...
And when I saw the place they had all originally been posted to, and came from, I shook my head in quiet fury and disgust...
yep, Reddit Writer's Prompts...
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[ WP ] Your cell phone has the ability to make everyone who hears it do whatever it says in any song you play , but the catch is that you ca n't stop the music once a song starts . You have just accidentally started playing `` Kung Fu Fighting '' .
| `` Thank you, thank you..'' I mutter sheepishly to the applause filling the conference room, my suitcase clicking shut in front of me. A large suited man jumps to his feet, eagerly taking my hand in his and shaking it.
`` That was the best presentation we've had all year! It's truly an honor working with you Hunter.''
My face flushes a bit red and I give him a smile.
`` Aw gee thanks Miles, you know I could n't do it without you guys though. I'm nothing without my team.''
`` Always so humble! Lets hear it again for Hunter!'' He roars, laughing heartily and raising my hand. The office room again erupts into clapping, which slowly dies out as my colleagues find their way to their feet.
That's when I heard it.
That godforsaken sound.
It started softly in my pocket.
`` Woaaaahh hooo hoooo Hoooaaa''
*No, not now. *
The ringing grew louder, my phone vibrating angrily in my pocket, demanding to be answered. The room grew noticeably quieter with the second, eyes now looking over to me.
`` Woahhhh ohhhho hhhoooo''
*No, no no no this ca n't be happening. *
I frantically shove my hand into my jeans, fumbling my phone as I attempt to turn it off. *Not like this, please no. * My sweaty hands finally grasp it, but its too late. The room is dead silent as the guitar makes its final twinge.
``... Everybody was kung fu fighting''
Before me the table breaks in half, splintering apart as a middle aged business man is slammed through it. I jump back in horror, just in time to dodge a round house kick from Edgar of accounting. His foot sails past my head, grazing my thinning hair before smashing into the projector and smashing it to the ground. Angrily he pulls his hand back, balling it into a fist clearly aimed to take my head off. Just as he rotates towards me a high heel finds its way into his chest, sending his frail body flying across the room. It soars through the air, finally crashing into the big glass windows enclosing the room.
*Fuck, fuck, fuck. *
I drop to my knees, mashing the end call button desperately to no avail.
`` Those kids were fast as lightning!''
All around me things shatter, hands and feet connecting with thumps to human skin. My boss is in some kind of crouching tiger pose, squaring off with Jane of communications. She's adopted a crane pose and with one quick move sets into action, launching a fly elbow at him. He catches it, leg sweeping hers with ease and smashing her onto the glass covered floor. Jane is tougher though, she's dealt with asshole clients all day. Her legs windmill, kicking his out from under him as she lithely jumps to her feet and intermediately sends a downward kick to his face. He rolls out of the way at the last second, her heel smashing into the wood floor and splintering it.
*Have to stop this... now! *
_______________________________________________________________
Might finish later, I do n't know.
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[ WP ] You live in a society where at the end of each day , you can choose to relive it , but without retaining any knowledge of what happened previously . A number in your peripheral vision shows how many previous times you lived through the current day . Almost always that number is 0 . Today it is 7212 .
| 7212 days?! Jesus, that's a long time. I pull out my phone and do the math. `` 19.75 years? Holy crap!'' I think to myself. This must be one hell of a day. I'm stoked and really looking forward to it. I get up it is almost two in the afternoon ( that's not unusual for me after a late night of online gaming ), have a bowl of cereal, take a shower and get dressed.
I hear a knock at the door and go to open it. A cute little blonde is standing there holding a small gym bag. Short shorts, low cut v-neck shirt, assets showing. `` I was sent over by party-gram, sugar. I'm Candy'' she says. `` I'm here to put on a dance for you.'' She turns over her left shoulder and there is a large muscled man holding a boom box radio.
`` This is Ray, he's just here for my security, a girl ca n't be too safe can she?'' My birthday is next week, so I'm like `` sure, come on in.'' My buddy Reggie must have sent her over for an early surprise. `` Do you have a chair?'' she asked? I went and got one from the dining room table and brought it into the living room. While I did this, Ray was setting up in the corner and assumed the folded arm `` you better not try anything'' posture.
Candy begins `` There are some rules sugar, no touching, hands to yourself. I need to put these straps on your ankles and bind your arms to the chair. Some clients really like this part. I hope you are one of them.'' `` Oh, yes, I'm one of those.'' I reply. `` Great sugar, great. Ray- some getting started music please...'' She pulls out some straps from her bag sitting on the sofa and the music begins to play. Skynnard, Free Bird.
She starts to dance and wiggle slowly as she gets each strap and secures me to the chair. This takes a few seconds and just as the song starts into `` If I leave here tomorrow.....would you still remember me?'' Candy stops, stands up and turns to Ray. `` OK Ray.'' `` OK Ray what?'' I say. `` Ray's stone expression turns to an evil grin and he unfolds his arms, and starts to draw his right fist back and starts to run across the room towards me. Candy steps back and he cold cocks me with a right cross across the jaw. He follows it up with a flurry of fists to my face, neck and chest. I'm still strapped to the chair so I ca n't do crap about it. `` Stop, please, what is this?'' and other pleas are all I can do. Not too long after he starts and before the music picks up ( damn I love that part ) I'm out cold.
I wake up, it could have been hours later. I do n't know.'Candy' has just thrown a cup of water in my face. I sputter awake. `` Wakey-wakey'' Candy says. I do n't want you to miss it. You've got just a couple of minutes before the reset. Would n't want you to miss it.'' I could hear it now. The two-minute warning beeps from my chrono-reset watch. `` Sugar, one last surprise for you.'' She pulls out a shiny hunting knife, reaches inside of my right bicep and pulls a deep cut up across my bicep. `` Brachial artery, Sugar. Just a few minutes left for you.'' My arm starts to spurt out my life's blood onto the carpet. My heart starts to race, making it worse. My watch starts to begin with the verbal warning now. `` Chrono-watch warning - If you do not press'move to next day', the current day will be reset. You are currently on loop 7212.''
Candy bends down to look me in the eye. `` Bye Sugar. See you tomorrow. Say, around 2:30?''
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[ WP ] `` No mercy for the guilty . ''
| `` This court has determined your guilt beyond a shadow of a doubt. Your crime has been recorded.''
I always thought that describing words as `` heavy'' was a cheap literary device employed by writers with insufficient skill to avoid the cliche. Perhaps it still is, as I am no writer. But I can think of no other way to describe the pronouncement. `` Your crime has been recorded''. There would be no service, no sentence. No prison term, no re-education, no re-integration. The heaviest sentence I had ever heard.
Were my crime more serious, I might be eligible for prison anyway, where at least I would be fed, but since I was no physical threat to my fellow citizens, I could not be placed in custody for the protection of civil society, nor executed.
`` You are free to go''.
Go where? How?
It's funny how sometimes you need to test even the most obvious knowledge for yourself. I pulled out my all-comm, thankfully government issued and a guaranteed right, as no citizen corporation would have issued me one, or continued service once my record was posted. I tried to summon a car, but my screen went red. `` Service Denied''. I thought about public transportation, but knew it was a matter of policy to deny service to offenders.
I walked.
Food would be a problem sooner rather than later. I knew better than to try to buy my own groceries. I'd never heard of an establishment that would serve offenders. Restaurants were likewise out, I did n't know of any that did n't ping you before serving. Of course they advertised it as a courtesy to make sure you did n't forget your comm before eating, but it was really to make sure you could pay.
Fortunately, I had stocked up a little before sentencing. I would n't go hungry today.
I could n't resist trying my luck at a vendor cart. I even took a bite as I held up my comm. Surely they would n't refuse for food already eaten. The vendor grabbed the hot dog from my hand and threw it down.
`` No mercy for offenders''.
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[ WP ] You sell security systems . To super villains .
| `` OK look, I do n't care if you ARE the president, we are not going to cover it''
`` I am paying the highest premium your company offers!''
`` I know lex, but you did n't give us all the information we needed, your contract clearly states we need full disclosure of every power your adversary has and you left out a big one''
`` I do n't know how the hell he made time go backwards! in fact how do you even know that is what happened?''
`` We have our Ways''
`` What does that even mean? Maybe you should be the super villian and I'll sell the insurance''
`` you got it half right, you're finally catching on''
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[ WP ] You are attacked by a single , evil wasp that just wo n't seem to die .
| The sunlight glittered off of her hair, her white summer dress brightened the whole area around her, she looked radiant. I still could n't believe she agreed to this. Sitting on our blanket in the soft grass, I drank in the moment... what a beautiful day. Apart from the small trail of ants attempting to invade our basket, life could n't have been more perfect.
She caught me staring at her and smiled, `` Pass the wine will you?'' I uncorked the half-full bottle and handed it to her. As she filled her glass for the second time I perused the cheese... bleu might reduce my chances of a kiss... I'll stick with grapes for now.
Rather than fumbling with one or two at a time, I snapped off a small cluster of grapes. Lifting them up to my mouth I noticed a small insect sitting atop the largest grape. At that moment we came eye to eye.
His beady, matte black eyes stared into mine. His body, firmly grasping the surface of the grape, was un-moving. I tried to shoo him off with a quick brush of my other hand. This seemed to encourage his steadfastness. I tried blowing some air at him, confidant that would rid my grape of him. He held fast. The yellow stripes on his back seemed to glow a deeper orange. In one final attempt to knock this puny insect off of my lunch, I curled my index finger into my thumb, taking aim for the perfect flick.
His wings flicked open behind his back and he launched off of the grape diving straight toward my nose. I reared back in surprise, taking a wild open-palmed swing between the grapes and my face - contact! I felt his little exoskeleton smash against the weight of my palm, hurdling him through the air past my shoulder.
`` What was that?'' she asked.
I tried to remain calm, suave - `` Oh..uh..nothing, just a bug.''
I smiled and went to claim my bounty, settling on the exact grape that little wasp was sitting on - *Bzzzzzz*! He ripped past my ear - not happy that I had dethroned him. I dodged right this time, taking a bit of the blanket with me.
`` Are you ok? You seem a bit... twitchy?'' Her voice was angelic, I was n't going to let it be interrupted by this demonic pest.
He was hovering around the grapes again, I reached out to swat him but missed. He came in for another pass, narrowly missing my jugular. I tried to pass it off in this sort of Jay-Z `` Dirt Off Your Shoulder'' move that only served to garner the attention of the other park-goers nearby.
Now a full audience was watching me in my mortal dance with this wasp. I widened my stance, readying myself against his next assault. He was heading straight for me this time - this was no strafing run, this was his kamakaze.
I could almost see the air splitting in front of him as he gathered speed. His evil eyes focused in on their target, me. I glared straight back at him. David meets Goliath. He ripped into range, I swung both of my arms into the biggest most raucous clap putting all of my back into it.
SPLAT!
... I... I got him!
I slowly opened my cupped hands to peek inside...
He burst forth! Coming straight for my face again! I fell backwards as he hounded my head. I was finally able to backhand him out of the way and came up to rest on my back, propped up on my elbows. By this point my date was thoroughly worried for my sanity, and her well being.
I was breathing heavily at this point, my eyes scanning the air for any sight of him. I thought the coast was clear, and allowed myself to steal another glance at her. She had a very worried look on her face, but was as brilliant as ever. She reached for her glass, probably trying to reassure herself that this was n't the worst afternoon of her life.
That's when I saw him. Sitting so smug on the lip of her cup...
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[ WP ] While cleaning out you father 's house after his death you discover he has spent the last 30 years writing thousands of pages of books and short stories . You pick up a random page and start reading .
| I look around at the plethora of dusty moleskines, binders, diaries and assorted letters. I have n't ever thought of my old man as an artist, but pops was always a surprise. He was the kind of the guy who would plan an entire party, manage to gather attendees all the way from hither to yon without a single one of his hairs seeming to fall out of place, and somehow preserve the surprise for the very moment you walk through the door. I have n't discovered how he could do that kind of magic; I, myself, am terrible at planning surprises. The secret party details would fly out of my mouth before I even realize that they're gone...
My father's writings seem to span the generations. The first one I pick up is an old, cracked book with a blue cover. There used to be some sort of image on the cover, but the weather-worn, attic stored book would not give up that secret. I open the book to read the first passage:
`` Rudy. Age 13. October 4th.
I talked to Judy today. I did n't really feel like it since she was with her friends. ( Why do girls always stick with their friends anyway? ) I did n't really say anything. I wanted to ask her to the dance since she's so pretty ( her eyes are so green! ), but it's a Sadie Hawkins, which means girls ask the boys. I heard that Jack wants to go with her. I hope she asks me...''
I feel a little weird reading what seems to be my pop's diary, but he left me these writings. In fact, he left me this whole house. All of these writings, all of these memories, belong to me now. Since they are mine, I do n't think there's harm in reading more. Pop would probably want me to read these, to remember him.
`` Rudy. Age 13. October 6th
Judy asked me to the dance tonight! I ca n't wait! I'm so excited, but I ca n't mess this up! I need to learn how to dance, and not that squaredancing we learned in phys ed. I need to learn something cool, and fast! The dance is tonight. I wish she did n't take so long to ask me. I hope she was n't thinking about taking Jack. He's such a dick. I ca n't believe I'm even related to that guy! This morning, he took up all the hot water and I did n't get any at all, even though I could have really used it. Not like I can get anything done in a house as creaky and old as this one. I need the water to disguise the sound otherwise Mom'll walk in on me again...''
I decide to quickly skip the rest of the passage. The last thing I want to read about is my father beating it. Still, it's funny how he did n't get along with Uncle Jack. They became very close later in life. I thumb through my pop's journal and land on a page bedecked with smiley faces and hearts. Dad was never a good artist, but I'll admit that he had a way with words.
`` Rudy. Age 16. May 09
Today, I asked Judy to go steady me. She said yes. This is the happiest day of my life. I ca n't tell my friends that, but Judy knows. I gave her my class ring today, and it was too big. She wears it on a necklace, so everyone will know that we belong to each other. She gave me some sort of pin. It's kind of..well..stupid, but I'll wear it, at least around her. I also got a job today. I get to start working on cars with my old man and actually make some coin off of it. I like working with him... Mom's calling me. Better go see what she wants.''
It seems like most of these books are pop's diaries. They are n't labeled, but what else would they be? Out of curiosity, I decide to pick up another book. This book is much newer than the previous one, but is still old. Moleskines hold up better than whatever that other book was made from though.
`` Rudolph. Age 30. May 09
Judy and I got married today. Today, we became Dr. and Mrs. Rudolph Washington. This is, truly, the most splendid day of my life. She was a radiant beauty walking down the aisle. Her reddish hair shining like a fox's fur glinting in the sunlight was a sharp contrast to the baby's breath adorning her head like a crown. Fitting, for my queen. She decided to wear a beige gown, not a white one, which complemented her golden skin. I am so happy to dedicate my life to this woman and to our children ( both of whom are on the way, which is why she decided to wear beige ). Nothing can spoil this day. I look to my best man, Jack, and see that he, too, is smiling. We are all smiling today, as if hatred exists nowhere in the world because it does not exist here, in this church...''
I almost cry when I get to the wedding. Pops and mom were always very affectionate, but it's different reading it here, on a page. Mom died before my old man, but I bet she would love to read this if she was alive. I want to keep reading, but I think, for now, I ought to take a break. It will take a long time to sift through my father's memories.
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[ WP ] Seven days ago , all international governments announced that in 24 hours humanity would be wiped out by a catastrophic & unavoidable event . They miscalculated . Humanity now has to live with the consequences of a day spent without a 'tomorrow ' .
| **Apocalypse**
Maria puts her thumb up to the sky; the asteroid is still too big to cover. It hangs there in the cloudless, clean-shaven sky like a rip in blue silk, an ink-stain on a shirt, a bullet hole in a bride-maid ’ s dress. It ’ s smaller than yesterday, at least. Salvation Day, when the President took to television to announce that the asteroid wouldn ’ t make impact. But Maria had come here to stare at the asteroid for more than a week now. She even came to lay her head against her favorite cedarwood when the smoke from the riots San Francisco had drifted across the bay. It burned here eyes, but there was something about the smell of burning rubber that she never knew that she would like so much.
Just a week ago, the United Nations announced that there would be a worldwide lottery. People who meet certain criteria could apply for space in a self-sustaining, underground bunker. The ex-cons, uneducated, disabled, and HIV positive took to the streets after clerks in 7-11s around the world refused, with police with shotguns behind them, to hand tickets over to the disqualified. The BBC still re-airs that video of attack helicopters mowing down the mobs outside the White House. “ Terrible tragedy, ” the newsman bemoaned. Then he smiled back at the other camera. “ Tonight on Special Report: Alistair Morgan interviews utilitarian philosophers who support the lottery system. The debate continues. ”
But Mark ’ s beatings began when those amateur astronomers ’ photos started circulating the news channels last week. Whenever he took his cigarette breaks in the plastic chair on the apartment balcony, he would come return rearing like a bull. First, the lasagna was too salty. ( But what was he to expect? Maria had never cooked before. Why would she unless there would be punitive consequences if she didn ’ t? ) Then, that night when the moon was bitten like a cookie, he slapped her for using too much teeth.
HBO stopped streaming last night, and the only content available was a gorgeously produced, start-studded celebratory public service advertisement co-produced by the United Nations, the Office of the White House, the State Council of the People ’ s Republic of China, and the Council of the European Union. “ Hello. Ni-hao. Hola. Guten Tag. As-salam alaikum. Privyet. Hej. Namaste… The world will not come to its end. Salvation day! ” Of course, the Evangelicals complained that only Jesus could offer salvation. But no one heard them, because the bars bellowed over the cities and spontaneous concerts echoed through the streets.
Mark jumped up from the couch and hugged his wife. His arms squeezed around her like boa constrictors. Shuddering, she steps back. The fridge door hisses open; he doesn ’ t seem to notice Maria pulling at her finger. She throws her ring into the sink and says, “ Damn it, Mark. I swear that I loved you. Or, I thought I loved you. I ’ ve never really known you. If it weren ’ t for that fucking asteroid, I would have died without knowing. I… I just can ’ t. ”
North, away from San Jose. She drove through traffic wind through the block-parties that were meandering on highway overpasses. And she sits with her head in the cedar-wood's knotty lap today. Though there are still black, blue, yellow stains on her skin, there are no sunglasses to cover a swollen, shadowy eye. No stockings to hide the welts.
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( WP ) Lucifer never fell , God just needed his most trusted archangel to claim the darkness so the real evil could not .
| God was all powerful, omnipotent, but even he was afraid of this... thing. The angels marched into the darkness to expel it, and it was a costly battle. The being was older than God, but it was n't the only one of its kind. There were other Great Old Ones. They had been expelled to other dimensions with relative ease as though they had wanted to go. One of them did not.
Angels, even the Seraphim, feared it, this undying monstrosity. It was Lucifer who finally decided that it could not be killed. It could not even be defeated. It could only be dispelled, but it would not leave God's chosen planet. So, it waited, and it slept, and it hid waiting for some poor soul to wake it.
Awoke it, someone did. Their insanity and death sent them to hell where Lucifer listened to their screams and calmed them, but, over the eons, the Lord had grown weak. Lucifer called on his brethren to fight it. To spare as many humans as possible, but archangels were not prepared for Cthulhu.
As they fell, Cthulhu grew in power and entered into the afterlife where even God could not overcome him, and, in that moment, when the Lord lost of control heaven to Cthulhu, heaven was quickly plunged into darkness. Heaven became hell.
***
If you like this story, I also have a subreddit: r/nickkuvaas
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[ CW ] Write a story involving an eye patch and a parrot . ( Without including pirates )
| The bird sat quietly on the deck of the ship. The silence fell slowly, an almost imperceptible change, somehow worse than the din and cry of the battle before. The bird was small, compared to its nest mates, a runt, worth little more than the food it ate. So the shop keeper had said. The man had said differently, when he bought her. Had called her beautiful, complimented her plumage, her voice, all the things every girl wants to hear.
She sat quietly, watching as the eye patch slid back and forth with the roll of the ship. The black had faded, the string frayed, the design across the front becoming a ghost of its former self. The patch had been almost part of the man, just as she had been. He had gotten it just after her, letting her ride on his shoulder even then, as he crossed the square in search of something to cover his missing eye. He was almost never seen without it, and never seen without her perched on his shoulder, whispering in his ear. If only he had been able to understand.
She was smart, he knew she was. Had known it from the first time he seen her, he said. Known that she was the only one worth a damn, and that idiot shopkeep had no idea what he was talking about. She thought he was right. Knew he was, really. Knew so much more than that too. Had known they would be coming for him. Heard them talk at the tavern, seen them follow through the alleyways. Knew the only opportunity the would have would be through the bottleneck here. She was right again, just like she had been about so many other things. If only he had listened.
She looked up blearily from the patch as it slid back across the deck towards her, up at the ships slowly making their way back into harbor to repair after the fighting. Too many. More than even she had thought would be sent after them. She had thought they were afraid of him. They were n't. They were terrified. Enough to send four ships to subdue their one. Four crews, four captains, sent to subdue one crew, destroy one man. Was he really such a threat as all that? Or was he simply a rallying point for the flagging government? An achievement for them to trot out when the naysayers began to complain about the lack of progress? She supposed it did n't matter at this point. Never did. They had come for him, for them, and they had come hard.
Her gaze slid from the retreating ships across the water. Across the backs and faces of the men she had come to know so well over the years. Here, a brown coat stolen from an abusive father, there a scar running across a nose from a bar fight that left three men dead, next to him the ships cook whose slop she had been spared, much to everyone's envy, as she had been told many, many times. Finally, she found the one she was looking for.
He had been the only one to look at her twice when she was at the store. The first to look past her larger, more colorful brothers and sisters, into her eyes. To listen beneath the cacophony they made and listen to her soft song. At that moment, she knew she would do anything for him, if only just because he had noticed her. Then he had taken her in, introduced her to his crew, made her part of their family. They were loud, foul, ill-mannered, and violent. But they were his, and so was she. She loved them all, in her own way. Loved them in a way she had never loved her nest mates, her parents, the shopkeep. But not like she loved him. Not like he had loved her.
Finally, she lifted her wings, taking flight into the crisp afternoon air. A few wide circles and she could see the entire ship, from bow to stern, as well as the crimson stains that covered the normally pristine deck. The bodies had been dumped overboard, leaving the blood as the only sign on the ship of the massacre that had so recently taken place. Her eyes narrowing to slits, she dove, then pulled up and skimmed across the surface of the wooden deck. Talons extended, she snatched up the faded patch, careful not to let her claws tear the toughened surface as she flapped her wings ad circled away from the ship once more.
As she spied her target, she angled her wings and dipped through the air, eye patch hanging heavily in her claws. Today marked the end, she thought. The end of a glorious age. Freedom was hers, complete in ways she had never known, and yet even as she gained freedom, she lost purpose. All the time and freedom in the world meant nothing without something to do with it. Someone to spend it with. She landed gently on the coal black coat, trying to avoid the spreading patches of scarlet spreading across it and out into the water beneath. Solemnly, she placed the worn patch atop the motionless figure, nestling it gently into the coarse black hair so that it would n't be blown away by an errant gust of wind. She paused a moment, then reached down to nestle her beak in his hair, taking a moment to relax in the familiar sensation, and trying to forget the events of the past few hours.
Finally, she raised her head, and took to wing once more, wings beating furiously as she tried to catch up with the ships that were quickly shrinking against the horizon. Maybe she was n't entirely without purpose. The men who had done this to him were still nearby. She supposed that he would approve of her new mission. Tearing out the eyes of the men who had killed him seemed like as good a way to go as any. Besides, if by some miracle she managed to live through all these men, she supposed there were always others. Men who had given the order for him to be hunted down. Men who had pressured those officers into coming after him, politicians that pushed rules into effect that resulted in his being outcast. Yes, she would have much to do. She would not be lacking in purpose for a long, long time. He would be proud.
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[ WP ] An all-knowing being offers you all of the information in the universe . But first you have to tell him something he does n't know .
| It started like any other trip I'd had before. My fingers buzzed and I felt this incredible euphoria as I slowly rose from sobriety into the breathing world of language that was typical of the red tabs. Despite my humdrum apartment becoming a world of amazing distractions, I stuck to my original mission of wanting to star gaze.
Star gazing was always a spiritual thing for me. Since I was a child, I have developed a passion and a habit of watching the stars. A giant window to the expansive universe above us all, filled with the diamonds and jewels that even the dinosaurs looked up at. My idea has been to take a couple of the red tabs, and really just absorb myself with it all.
Well, I did. After laying down across the way in the park, I was instantly rocked by the seemingly pulsating, flashing sky. Every star was bright and big, moving about like I had never seen. I forgot about my body, and watched as they buzzed and whirled, first in my eyes, then in my mind and eventually the movements occured within me. Man... I was tripping hard... losing myself....ohh... shit....there was this guilt and tension that stopped me from getting lost... perhaps the last remnants of my sanity. It clung onto realities edge for as long as it could. Pushing and pushing... it was overcome.
God. Not a person, not a thing, not a feeling. I was with god. I knew god was listening. I'm not sure where `` there'' was, but I was n't `` there''... I was no where and everywhere. Everthing was clear and abundant and permenant and real. It was enlightenment.
But then I saw myself. I felt myself. My life occured in this realm and grew and developed. As it evolved and changed my consciousness started to return to normal, my vast open eyes narrowed to their earthly norm, everything started to widdle down and narrow onto my memories and sense of self. Time came back to my senses and I saw myself laying in the park.
That moment of universiality, of oness with the apex of consciousness, I realised my life was the question he was asking, and how I lived it was the answer.
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[ IP ] The Sea of Space
| Varuna was not the first ocean world to be discovered by Humanity. Nor would it be the last. What made Varuna so interesting was the life that abounded. Complex life. What appeared to be vertebrate life. That was unique.
The other ocean worlds - Poseidon, Tiamat & Mazu - had life, but was never more complex than jellyfish. Here, on Varuna, there was life as complex as the seas on Earth. Yet there were no land. No shallow waters. Varuna lacked all the spots Earth or her colonies had providing ecological niches for complex life.
So, we of the Indian Galactic Scientific Survey, were here. We had a grant from New Delhi and had traveled the 315 light years to Varuna. We were out at the very edge of the Human Sphere and could only stay for 2 months before leaving. We would seed Varuna with numerous probes and satellites. We were here to trouble shoot the problems of deploying the probes. Then we would leave.
There was no place for humans to walk and the air was toxic: there was far, far too much oxygen. And the atmosphere was too dense: Varuna was a superearth exoplanet shorn of some of its atmosphere. We would be crushed and combust in speculator ways and if we survived that, we'd die of oxygen poisoning.
After we left, people would probably only return to reseed the probes and that might even be left to unmanned systems in the future. If anyone got the funding again. It is a big galaxy, even the Human Sphere.
The best part for us, those who had come, would be to link to the hover bots. From those we would get to experience Varuna as much as was possible: feeds would go straight into our brain via our implants and what the Americans called'boosters,' our cryptographically locked computers everyone carried with them.
The hoverbots were good for about four hours of flying time. We would drop them from orbit and skim above the seas, sampling and watching; tasting the air we would never smell and feeling a wind that would never touch our skin.
In our grant application, we through out the reason was to determine why biological complexity was present on Varuna, but to also check for intelligence. So far, within 500 light years, Humanity not not found a single sentient alien race. There was life; life was common, but intelligence seemed to be rare. All within the Human sphere, at least through 2201, there was no sign of intelligences other than our own.
It was my turn and I was thrilled.
I strapped myself in and ordered my booster to connect. I lay down and closed my eyes. The darkness of the hoverbot enveloped my mind. I could n't see a thing, but I did feel the bumps and jostling of the electromagnetic launcher loading and then the sensation of tremendous acceleration.
I felt myself tumbling, twisting and started to see light: the aeroshell around my bot was heating up. When we reached the proper altitude, it split out and I sky dived out of the splintering shell. I tasted fire, felt gusts of wind and deployed my solar wings. They slowed me and allowed my fans to start. I felt the internal purring of my fans: it felt good, like a kitten in happy in life and love.
Eventually, eventually, or so it seemed but was anything but, I reached the ocean surface. I splashed into it and rose almost immediately like a dolphin seeking the sky. But I did not return to those inscrutable waters: I hovered and flitted above.
I had four hours and wanted to see the world. This glorious world with no land, only sea and sky.
I had selected to be dropped at the terminator, near the sunset. I flitted along and was met with an eyeful. It was glorious. The way the sun interplayed with the sea, the splashes of the waters reaching up and into the sky added its own, interesting salt tinged coloration to light's last fading.
I was fortunate: there were no clouds were I was. I could see the sky clearly. It was only part of the reason I was here though: I could see the sky from the ship with my own eyes, so the surface was my draw. Even so, I had to look up and see the inky blackness pierced by bright points of light.
Then there, in the water, as the winds of the day reached into the stillness of the night, the waves started to rise and set. In the sky, the trinary stars of the system were setting with the host star at the horizon. It was lit through the waves.
And there... within... were eyes.
Like I had thought.
They glowed with bioluminescence. They observed me from below the waters. There was no attempt to breach for a better look. They dove and rose with the waves. They stared at me staring at them.
It was a Hvel. One of the large swimmers we had come to specifically see within this world sea. I looked and winked and examined. I tasted the waters and the air and the winds and the seas. I even shed microbots to get a better look at it, a sampling, but few made it close: most burned up in the highly corrosive Varunian air.
It merely stared back. Its eyes seemed so deep. So hypnotic. They seemed to say: human, though you may stride the stars, though you may known and taste the freedom of the galaxy, you lack wisdom, you lack my wisdom and you shall never attain it.
It turned and lazily swam away. My tilted my fans and followed.
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[ WP ] You are Ash Ketchum and your Pikachu just lost to Brock 's Onix . Per Japanese tradition , and to reserve honor , Pikachu must now commit Seppuku . Talk it through the pain .
| Ash's face was red as Pikachu limped toward him. After hundreds of battles, the once young and bright child prodigy of pokemon fighting had become a bitter alcoholic rage-induced Bobby Knight.
`` What the fucking hell, Pikachu?!'' blasted out of his mouth of scattered teeth with a torrent of spit. Pikachu's eye twitched and the whole left side of his body shuttered from the blast of sound and fury. Bits of saliva and pork rinds stuck to his fur. `` You were supposed to go out there and beat it, not fuck around and play fairy tag with it! Are you stupid?! Do you have any goddamned brain in your head at all?! NO! That's fucking evident, because all you ever say is your fucking name! You're a shameful insult to me, to Misty, and to all pokemon and trainers everywhere! You're a goddamned disgrace and this is the last FUCKING TIME!''
Ash threw a sword at Pikachu's feet and the giant innocent eyes rounded up within his matted, unkempt fur as he looked at the sword. There was already dried blood and flecks of skin from other pokemon dotting the sword; other disappointing proteges of the `` great and famous'' Ash Ketchum. Pikachu looked at the sword with narrowed eyes of resentment and anger, and then at his owner with a deepening sorrow.
`` Whatchya gon na crie?!'' Ash yelled as Pikachu looked on. The pokemon sighed and slowly picked up the sword. He knew what he was bound to do. `` Come on, you stupid fucking rat, stab yourself in the heart already, so I can get next year's model!'' Pikachu examined the blade as his trainer heckled him. He tried to wipe off some of the grime, but it was crusted on the blade. `` Stop fucking around and put that blade through your goddamned heart! What the fuck is wrong with you?! You're so dumb, you ca n't even kill yourself?! It's SO SIMPLE!'' Pikachu rolled his eyes. This was n't even Ash anymore, just some shell of fat around the man he used to be. He flipped the sword around and plunged it into the fat man's shin and his poke-ball fell from the chubby hand and bounced over to Pikachu. Pika picked it up and darted away, merrily singing his name as Ash unleashed a volley of curses and obscenities while he lay on the floor bleeding with the crusty sword wobbling from his fat slathered calf.
For Pikachu, it was off to Jamacia.
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[ WP ] `` Pokemon lives matter . Today we make history as we say no to cruelty and yes to a definitive ban on pokemon fighting for sport . '' As an Elite Four member , you are now unemployed .
| It had never been easy. The challenges had always come one after another -- Each as unique as a snowflake that contributed to an avalanche. They had told him that he was special. He grinned, exhaling a chuckle as the frost tinged his lips. There hadn ’ t always been a league, and there hadn ’ t always been trainers. Mount Lanakila was his favorite place. He could see all of the island from here. The snow crunched under his feet as he turned to face the building that he helped create. The glittering lights were nothing but shadows now. No trainers guarding it from the unworthy.
====================
“ C ’ mon Pixle! ” He exclaimed as loud as his eleven year old lungs could manage. The Vulpix lept out of the way of the incoming Ratata. It ’ s dark hair stood on end as it wound up for another tackle.
Pokemon battling is easy! All they ever do is tackle. The boy thought, locking eyes with Pixle.
“ Powder Snow! ” Icy air rippled from Pixle as the Ratata fell to the ground chittering. It ’ s whiskers caked with frost.
It had been hard, moving to a new place. He had never been good at making friends. Not with people. The boy thought, as Pixle ran towards him for it ’ s customary victory hug. People are too complicated.
====================
“ It ’ s going to be all right! ” The nurse assured. “ This happens all the time! ”
The boy could hardly speak between the sobs. Pixle had fainted, and he had lost. He clutched it ’ s limp body in his hands, the normally cool fur warm with fatigue. The other trainers avoided making eye contact with him. The island challenges had put many in the same position.
“ Really! This is just apart of it. Your Vulpix will be fine. ” The nurse continued. “ Just put her back into the pokeball and we can fix her right up. ”
He fumbled for the pokeball in disbelief. This couldn ’ t be normal. Then why do they have pokemon centers? His thoughts betrayed him as he returned Pixle to its ball.
“ That ’ s it. ” The nurse cooed, taking the ball from him. “ Wait here, I ’ ll be right back. ”
The seconds felt like hours, but the nurse returned. “ All better! Your pokemon has been restored to full health. We hope to see you again soon. ”
He ripped the ball from her hands, and tossed out Pixle. The Vulpix leaped into his arms, full of energy. The tears came again, freezing as they dripped onto Pixle ’ s fur.
====================
“ Ice Beam! ” the man bellowed, his eyes burning with the heat of battle.
A brilliant beam of freezing energy ripped through the air. Each of Pixel ’ s nine tails flowing as it awaited its next command. The cold lump of a Garchomp hit the ground with a thud before returning to its pokeball. The young trainer teared up before scrambling back the way they came.
The man frowned. There had been fewer worthy challengers today. The world was growing soft. Or maybe just compassionate. He thought to himself as Pixle ran towards him for a hug.
He had relinquished his title as champion for a spot on the Elite Four. He learned early on that few made it far enough to challenge him and he wanted to be closer to the action. Besides, Hala had been wanting to retire for a long time.
“ Ha! They just don ’ t have the fire anymore do they? ” A voice echoed from the back of his mind. Hala was right. The world was changing.
====================
It had never been easy. The man trudged towards the entrance of the once brilliant building. His gloved hands touching the doors in remembrance. The cold air kissed his face as he said his final good-bye. It was for the best.
Footsteps. The man whirled around, not expecting anyone. A boy, panting, looking as if he sprinted through the cold. Their eyes met.
Surely not. The man thought to himself as his heart raced with the thrill of battle. Don ’ t get too excited...
The boy tossed something. Glittering crystals hit the ground in front of him, a color for each type. His eyes blazed with confidence as he reached for his first pokeball.
A challenger. The man thought, hardly able to contain his own excitement. His hand instinctively gripping the worn pokeball at his side. One more battle couldn ’ t hurt. The ball flew from his hand, as the wind roared to life. A reason.
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[ WP ] The government has decided all paper money is now worthless . As a coin collector you are now tied as the most richest person in the world . Tell the tale of how you and your rival , the penny jar hoarder try to one up each other for first place .
| I sat at my desk. The sun's warmth dripped through my window like dewdrops. I sat in my fresh new Brooks Brothers suit I had just bought with all my pennies. They said I was crazy. They said I was an idiot for hoarding my pennies. They were wrong. President Trump had just declared paper money was worthless and it was only coins that had value. No dollars, no bitcoin, just pennies. I took my pennies to the bank that same day. I needed 56 U-Hauls to carry all my penny jars to the bank. It took all day. The teller looked in awe as I hauled my pennies into the bank. She phoned what I imagined was her higher up. She informed me that I was now one of the richest men in the world. I laughed maniacally as she made every pass to flatter me for one of my pennies. Now here she was. As I sat at my desk she sucked the skin off my cock. Her head bobbed up and down as her mouth stroked my shaft. She was one of many women that pleased me this way. Wine, women, and song were never ending. You can do these sort of things when you're rich. As the teller went to work on my penis I lurched forward and opened my Dell Precision T7810 Workstation - Intel Xeon E5-2650 v3 Deca-core ( 10 Core ) 2.30 GHz - 32 GB DDR4 SDRAM - 256 GB SSD - NVIDIA Quadro K5200 8 GB I had just bought. One of the most expensive computers in the world was mine. I went to open up my pornhub premium account when there was a loud banging at the door. The teller looked up at me but I motioned for her to keep going. `` Let him in!'' I pronounced to my security guard who stood next to the door. The security guard opened the door slowly. BANG! BANG! BANG! Gunshots cracked through the air and bullets penetrated my security guard. Blood spewed from his neck where one of the bullets hit all over the wall. He gagged for breath and collapsed onto the floor choking on his own blood. A tear came to his eye and his face turned purple. The teller jumped up in horror. She screamed and then a bullet went through her eye. She slumped forward, immediately dead. I came right when she was shot and my cum flew all over her crinkled corpse. I slammed the panic button I had under my desk. I knew who this was. This was the Penny Jar Hoarder. The only other man to collect as much pennies as I had. These were his thugs sent to kill me. This was n't the first time this had happened. An alarm went off as dark suited men with sunglasses burst into their rooms all pointing their guns at me. They formed up in front of me and demanded I hold my hands up. I cooperated and raised my hands into the air. I stood their frozen yet cool and collected. In walked the Penny Jar Hoarder. He was covered in gold robes and the finest Chinese silks. He looked like a maharaja of years gone by. `` We meet again'' he smirked. I chuckled. `` Is something funny?'' He asked pacing in front of his mercenaries. `` The only thing funny is a little bitch like you trying to intimidate me.'' I responded. This time he chuckled heartily. `` Who said anything about intimidating? I'm here to make a deal.'' My interest was piqued. `` A deal?'' I asked inquisitively. `` We have been going at each other for too long. Too many men have died. It's time we make peace and divide up the spoils. Neither of us ever thought we would be the richest men in the world yet here we are. Let us put down are arms and work together.'' He proposed. `` You've caught my attention.'' I said while lighting up a Cuban cigar. I motioned for the Penny Jar Hoarder to take one but he shook his head. I lit up the cigar. Smoke clouded my face. `` We can buy up almost anything we want. We just need to sit down and divide it up like a fine cake.'' He continued. `` Just one problem,'' I interjected. `` And what might that be?'' he fidgeted. `` I do n't make deals with punk ass bitches like you.'' He stood aghast. `` Excuse me?'' He stammered. `` You heard damn well what I said'' I replied, cigar still in mouth. `` Then perhaps you die right here and right now.'' He said menacingly. `` No my friend, perhaps you die right here.'' I quickly reached down and pulled out the M230 Chain Gun I keep under my desk. I aimed at the mercenaries and cut them down with a smile on my face. Blood and gore splattered all over the walls as the chain gun tore through their miserable flesh. Their dark suits lightened to a fine red as misty blood filled the air of the room. Arms and legs went flying as my chain gun ripped them apart. I held the gun firm and kept spraying as I laughed at the slaughter. It was a butcher shop. Eventually the gun overheated and stopped. The Penny Jar Hoarder was crying in the fetal position in the corner. `` Shame, those were some nice suits too.'' I said pacing over the bodies of the men I just laid waste to. `` I did need a new paint job in this room though.'' I continued. He moaned and cried. Snot ran from his nose as he begged for his life. I pulled out my golden glock and pumped two slugs in his chest and one in his head. Now I was the only rich man left in the world.
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[ TT ] Dinner
| Ronald breathed in the steam rising into the air. The soup bubbled as he stirred the yellow concoction. He focused on the scents that drifted into his nostrils, feeling the impact of every single ingredient. Yes, he could sense it now.
The tomato and onion had made up at last. When the two had first met they had quarreled endlessly about who would have more dominance in the final flavor. They did not realize that such arguments only ruined the taste, but Ronald had quickly solved the issue with a small pinch of his remaining pepper. Now the two were in a loving embrace. The cabbage and few beans within the soup had been more amicable; they had gotten along almost immediately. However, the soup would never have been successful if it hadn ’ t been for turmeric, who worked tirelessly to bring the flavors and ingredients together into a consistency and harmony required of such a magnificent soup. Indeed, Ronald had been overjoyed upon finding a small container of the yellow powder just a few days before for this very reason. In fact, he had been overjoyed several times over the past week when he had found another vegetable. Now at last, the fruit of his labors was ready, a tantalizing pot of soup. From the savory aroma he could already tell that all of the pain he had endured to find the ingredients had been worth it.
“ So when you ’ re done gushing over how great it smells; we can eat it right? ” Grover shifted his eyes to Ronald. “ Or are you just going to sniff and stare at the pot all night? ”
Ronald groaned as he was brought out of his trance by Grover ’ s coarse voice. “ You can ’ t rush perfection you imbecile, especially with soups! You have to stir it at the right temperature, manage ingredients with accuracy, sense the very impression it will give you. ”
“ You ’ re kidding right? ”
“ Of course I am, but I still need time to cook this thing properly. ”
“ You ’ ve had more than enough time. I ’ m eating. ”
Grover picked up his spoon quickly. The lizard ’ s eyes flashed with desire as he plunged his spoon into the pot. He brought the spoon to his mouth and stuck his tongue out for a taste. He froze.
“ Hey, stop eating. Did you hear something? ”
Ronald stopped slurping down a spoonful of soup. “ Huh? ”
Grover tilted his head back and began shooting his tongue out rapidly trying to catch a scent. “ There ’ s someone nearby. ”
Ronald perked up his ears and listened. He couldn ’ t hear anything amiss. “ Are you sure? ”
Grover looked irritated. “ I can smell a rat, that ’ s you, the soup, and then something else. It seems familiar. ”
Ronald looked up into a nearby bush. The plant was enormous, something could easily hide in there. He saw a few leaves rustle. “ Grover, I think it ’ s in the bush. ”
The two of them began to back away from the bush slowly, never breaking eye contact with it. Suddenly, there was a flash of orange.
“ Oh no, not now. ”
Two orange ears with black tips poked out from the top of the bush. They were quickly followed by an orange face with a long snout. The creature ’ s black eyes looked like the dark pits leading to hell. Its black nose twitched as it got the scent of the small rat and lizard before it. Baring the white knives it called teeth, the fox shifted its body to pounce. The growl it uttered attacked their ears mercilessly.
“ Time to run buddy. ”
“ But the soup! ”
Edit: Grammar
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[ WP ] an average day in the life of a random school kid in a world that runs on video-game logic .
| FADE IN
INT - BERT'S ROOM
*We see a young boy, fast asleep, huddled beneath a mess of covers with cartoon trains printed on them. His brown hair is tousled and unruly, though this is likely a perpetual condition for him. This is BERT, an eight-year-old living in a world ruled by videogame logic. *
**BERT'S MOTHER: ** ( *Off-screen* ) Bert, sweetie, it's time to wake up! You do n't want to be late for school!
*BERT makes a tired noise and rolls over in bed. *
**BERT'S MOTHER: ** ( *Off-screen* ) Bert! Hurry up, or your breakfast will get cold!
*After another moment of struggling against the weight of his eyelids, BERT finally rolls out of bed. He approaches his closet and clumsily paws at the door. Without him touching it, the closet's handle turns and the door opens slightly. Suddenly, a blue-colored screen appears in the air before BERT, the words `` SELECT OUTFIT'' printed on it. *
**BERT: ** Mmrf...
*BERT smacks a listing on the screen at random. There is an electronic pinging noise, and suddenly, the boy is clad in jean shorts and a red shirt. *
**BERT'S MOM: ** ( *Off-screen* ) Are you all dressed, sweetie?
**BERT: ** *Yes*, Mom! Did n't you hear it?
**BERT'S MOM: ** I just wanted to be sure! You're not wearing the Super Bert outfit, right?
**BERT: ** ( *Rolling his eyes* ) No, Mom!
**BERT'S MOM: ** ( *Off-screen* ) You know you're not a high enough level for that.
**BERT: ** I'm not wearing it, Mom!
*BERT exits his room and trudges down some stairs, coming to the dining room. On the table is an enormous, perfectly cooked turkey. As BERT approaches, it becomes evident that the turkey is actually hovering slightly above the table's surface. *
**BERT'S MOM: ** A good breakfast is important! Eat up before you get started on your day!
**BERT: ** I *know*, Mom! I'm not a *newbie* anymore! I do n't need the tutorial!
**BERT'S MOM: ** ( *Off-screen* ) Do you want to skip these tips in the future?
**BERT: ** ( *Quietly* )... No.
**BERT'S MOM: ** Okay, then I'll give you advice whenever you need it!
*BERT stands for a moment, apparently contemplating some deep thought. Then, he straightens his shoulders and jumps onto the dining room table, landing atop the turkey. The meal disappears the moment that BERT's feet touch it, and another electronic tone - this one almost encouraging in nature - becomes audible. *
**BERT'S MOM: ** ( *Off-screen* ) I packed your backpack for you! It's by the front door!
**BERT: ** ( *Muttering* ) Whatever...
*BERT trudges to the front door, then walks face-first into it. *
**BERT'S MOM: ** ( *Off-screen* ) You should grab your backpack before you leave!
*With a sigh, BERT backs up... then runs into the door again. *
**BERT'S MOM: ** ( *Off-screen* ) Do n't forget your backpack!
*A look of resignation crosses the young boy's face. He turns to look at his backpack - laying on the floor next to the door - then punches the air above it. The backpack disappears, then rematerializes on BERT's back. As with before, there is a flourish of electronic sound. *
**BERT'S MOM: ** ( *Off-screen* ) Have a good day, sweetie!
**BERT: **... I love you, Mom.
*Without waiting for a response, BERT runs face-first into the front door. There is a noise which sounds similar to that of a door opening. *
FAST FADE OUT
FAST FADE IN
EXT - THE STREET
*BERT is standing just outside his house. For some strange reason, there is a giant, arrow-shaped sign nearby, which reads `` SCHOOL.'' BERT looks at it for a moment, then turns and walks in the opposite direction. After a few seconds, he comes to a construction site, barricaded by several traffic cones. As BERT approaches, a CONSTRUCTION WORKER speaks up. *
**CONSTRUCTION WORKER: ** Whoa, hold on, kid! You ca n't go this way right now!
**BERT: ** I know. I just thought I'd try.
**CONSTRUCTION WORKER: ** Come back later and we should be done working!
*BERT hangs his head and sighs. Out of nowhere, a hockey stick suddenly appears in his hand. *
**BERT'S MOM: ** ( *Off-screen* ) It's not the right time to use that!
*The hockey stick disappears. BERT stands for a few seconds longer, then backs towards the construction site. *
**CONSTRUCTION WORKER: ** Whoa, hold on, kid! You ca n't go this way right now!
**BERT: ** Shut up.
**CONSTRUCTION WORKER: ** Come back later and we should be done working!
**BERT'S MOM: ** ( *Off-screen* ) Are you lost, sweetie? Do you want help getting to school?
**BERT: ** ( *Growing agitated* ) No!
*Grumbling to himself, BERT stalks in the direction indicated by the SCHOOL sign. *
**BERT: ** ( *To himself* ) Three... two... one...
*Out of nowhere, a group of BULLIES approaches. *
**BULLY # 1: ** Hey, look, guys! It's that dweeb again!
**BULLY # 2: ** Yeah, what's his name?
*BERT holds his forehead with his hand. He stands there for over a minute. The BULLIES wait patiently. *
**BERT: ** Is there *anything* I can say to you to make this turn out differently?
**BULLY: ** Hah, that's right! ISTHEREAN! That's a *dweeb's* name!
**BULLY # 2: ** We'll be waiting for you after school, dweeb!
*The BULLIES move off. BERT's eyes fill with tears. *
**BERT: ** ( *Yelling* ) No, you wo n't! You'll all be kidnapped! All of you except that Fiona girl! Also, in a *shocking* twist, our teacher is a bad guy! *All* of the teachers are! The janitor sells weapons! *Why wo n't anyone listen to me?! *
*Silence - save for strains of soothing electronic music - permeates the air. BERT takes a choked breath and resumes his journey to school. As he walks, he speaks softly, almost inaudibly to himself. *
**BERT: ** Jump, jump, duck, jump, duck, jump, jump... god, I hope I get it right this time...
FADE OUT
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[ WP ] In the future , criminals have their minds `` reset '' to age of 10 year olds and are then released out into society . You are one of them and everyone keeps unintentionally hinting about what you did .
| `` Hi darling, how is that painting going?''
My brush pauses. I take a look at my `` painting'' to see an average fruit bowl. I remember seeing such pretty paintings in the museums when the kind woman took me there a week ago.
Unfortunately, I also remember seeing these really mean stares from all the other grownups from the museum. I did n't understand their stares and I still do n't. I asked the nice lady why the other grownups look at me so meanly, but she never wants to tell me. I wish I could understand the way adults think but they always say
*bzzzt*
`` What is this? What is going on? Why is there a silly brush in my hand?'' I thought angrily to myself. I quickly glanced around and see a pretty young lady standing near me. I do n't care if she's pretty; I demand to know what is going on.
The confusion on my face must have turned to anger as I see the girl's eyes turn wide in fear. Yes, of course she should fear me! Does n't she know she's talking to
*bzzzt*
I blinked and saw the pretty lady's wide eyes. Why are her eyes so wide? Was it because I have n't answered her question yet?
`` Hi Ms. Landal! The painting is ok. I liked the ones we saw at the museum much more! They were nice. ``
`` Do n't worry Dol, you will get better the more you practice. Now off to bed with Mrs. Pumpernickel, she'll take good care of you.''
I get up from my chair and follow Mrs. Pumpernickel to my room. She draws a bath for me and instructs me to remember to wash every little nook and cranny.
I love bath time! It always comes with my favorite German Shepard water toy!
After the nice bath, I fell asleep easily clutching a stuffed German Shepard.
The morning came and Mrs. Pumpernickel gently wakes me up. She lets me brush my teeth but she always dresses me and combs my hair. I'm 10 years old! When will they let me do things by myself?
Mrs. Pumpernickel brings me back to the art room and I resume my painting. The strokes are coming slowly but something still does n't seem right. I see Ms. Landal coming into the room and I promptly said, `` Ms. Landal, Ms. Landal! I know I'm only ten, but do you think I can apply to art school now? I really like painting and drawing and I really want to be good like the painters and drawers we saw at the museum!''
Ms. Landal blinks twice at me. How come she does n't want me to go?
Ms. Landal says, `` I'm sorry my dear, but I think we should have you practice just a little while longer first. We'll have some good teachers come and teach you, how does that sound?''
Why does n't she let me have my way? Why, why, why?! I just
*bzzt*
`` You atrocious woman, how dare you berate me like a child! I am no child, do you know who I am!?''
*bzzt*
My tears start forming and I ca n't stop them from rolling down my cheeks.
*bzzt*
`` What is this look you are giving me!? Why am I in this room? Bring me my Eva at once!''
*bzzt*
`` MS LANDAL!'' *sniff* *sniff* In the moment, I run past Ms. Landal and Mrs. Pumpernickel, surprised at how easily I can push through them.
I find myself collapsing in the middle of the street, some force keeping me from moving another inch.
I look around and see looks of disgusts on everyone's face again.
`` Why, why do you look at me like that?! What did I do to you!? I'm just a 10 year old boy!'' I wailed.
Ms. Landal walks slowly towards me with two mean looking big guys this time. She sadly looks at me and says, `` I'm sorry...''
I feel a jolt and I find myself slowly slipping away. Before I am completely asleep, I hear Ms. Landal slowly and softly say, `` Project AH failed; memory realignment incomplete; behavioral study inconclusive. Bring on the next subject, BM''.
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[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Leave A Story , Leave A Comment - Photo Op Edition !
| She absentmindedly sipped at coffee that had long gone cold, from the early morning stop at the little hole in the wall right by the building. Grimacing at the old, stale coffee on her tongue, she swallowed thickly.
When she turned around, there was a fresh cup on her desk, steaming from the cheerfully colored mug. It was n't her mug, hers had a picture of a dog on it.
No, the bright pattern, mint with white polka-dots, was someone else's entirely. She caught his eye from across the table and he gave her a small smile.
Picking up the mug, she smiled back at him before raising the mug up to her lips and drinking deeply. The coffee from work managed to be both intensely bitter and close to water, but she hid her disgust behind the mint mug.
The next morning she was running late and could n't stop in for coffee, rushing into the elevator. The man who had gotten her the coffee, Andrew, smiled at her and handed her one of the coffees he held in his hand. When their fingers brushed, she nearly dropped it.
`` I got this for you.'' He stated needlessly, voice a low murmur.
She smiled at him. It was n't from her usual place but she was n't about to complain about the free coffee, and it did beat the stuff from work.
The elevator took them up, the silence between them only broken up by the faint pinging of the bell as they climbed up to their floor.
When they stepped out of the elevator, she was surprised to find that a cup of tea awaited her at her desk. She looked at Andrew, who looked down at her. His eyes reflected her confusion, and one eyebrow was nearly up in his hairline.
Tea was n't her beverage of choice but she sat down to look at it anyway. The tag that hung down from the mug displayed the flavor, English Breakfast. She turned it over to find that someone had drawn a heart on the other side in purple pen.
Next to her, a woman hid her face behind the wall that separated all the desks and blushed heavily.
The days that followed after were short and started all the same. The person who had brought her tea the first day seemed to learn from the first time, where she had hardly drunken more than a few sips of it. At first, she had been given different blends but, still, she did n't drink more than a few drops.
Soon, she had breakfast to go with the coffee that Andrew brought for her without fail, muffins and croissants.
Friday came with a certain electricity in the air, the energy of the upcoming weekend filling their small office. Andrew had given her the coffee like usual, waiting for her by the elevator this time, and there was a cinnamon muffin sitting on her desk.
The napkin it was resting on had a heart drawn on it and, in neat lettering, a note that told her to look to her right.
Sitting in the desk to the right was the person who had brought her breakfast for the past week. Lucy was her name, and she gave a small smile. The smile was reciprocated with a blush and a bite of the muffin.
At the end of the day, she logged off of her computer and turned around to find both Andrew and Lucy standing there. Lucy was short and plump compared to
Andrew's tall lankiness, and they stood side by side.
The pair before her spoke in near unison, glaring at each other slightly.
`` Gloria, would you like to get something to eat after work?'' Andrew murmured.
`` Gloria, do you want to grab a bite to eat after work?'' Lucy whispered.
She looked up at the duo standing before her. But, when Gloria opened up her mouth to say something, the only thing that came out was a giggle. Both people before her looked disappointed slightly, Lucy turned to walk away and Andrew opened his mouth to speak.
`` Sure, I'll go to dinner.'' Gloria finally said.
`` With?'' Andrew asked.
Gloria shrugged.
`` Both of you.''
-- -- --
A nice polyamorous love story to start off the day. Romance is n't something I usually write, so CC is welcome.
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[ WP ] You wake up from a crazy dream and you find yourself as a character from your favorite TV show . Even if you `` go off script '' , the plot of your new life finds its way back to the plot of the series . However , you just discovered how to get around it , if you play the right way .
| I walked right into Paddy's, knowing what I would find, and there they were; Mac and Dennis were sitting at the bar while Charlie was behind it applying another coil of barbed wire to his infamous rat bashing stick. I could not contain my glee and was smiling like an idiot. Mac turned and saw me `` What the shit do you want, bro?'' he screamed.
I was startled but excited. I mean, my favorite TV show had become a reality. I could escape my shitty life and my shitty job and maybe start something new here. Charlie looked up from his work and Dennis put a hand on Mac's shoulder, smiling at me he said `` Woah, woah there Mac. I like that energy, I do, but you have got to quell that beast and save it for the game.''
He gestured me to a stool next to him and continued on as though we had known each other for years. `` I'm sorry friend, my associate here is getting all smacked up on riot-juice at the moment. You see, we entered our bar into the annual'Dodgeball For Diabetes Tournament' ( Mac and Charlie high-fived while grunting D.F.D.T. ) and we want to be in the right mental state when we crush these bitches later.''
The door opened behind me before I could say anything and I heard a familiar voice ask `` what bitches are we crushing?'' It was Sweet Dee, followed closely by Frank. I was ecstatic to the point of arrousal. Charlie started to explain the details of the tournament to them `` It's awesome. Our bar is in some tournament where we play dodgeball against people with stupid diabetes...'' Dennis interrupted `` We are not playing against people *with* diabetes. We are playing to win money for... you know what, it does n't matter anyway. Frank and Dee are not playing.'' Frank put the sausage he was eating back into his shirt pocket `` why the hell not? I mean understand why Deandra ca n't play because she's a girl. But you...''
*I really wanted to continue this but my device is about to die. I hope that it's OK that I posted anyway. It's obviously not finished but you could see where I was going with it. If my posting unfinished and grammatically incorrect writing is against policy, I will delete as soon as I get some power. Sorry in advance.
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[ WP ] Right before the heat death of the universe , the best scientists and engineers of mankind develop The Ark . A deep space station holding millions of preserved fertilized human embryos , and an entire automated system ready to operate in the unlikely event that entropy reverses .
| # The End ( 75 trillion years in the future )
Humanity has almost everything they could ever want. They are as gods, each wielding power that would be nigh incomprehensible to the long-dead inhabitants of the forgotten blue planet called Earth. Almost anything they want, they can have. There is only one thing they lack, and that is time.
The little blue planet they used to call home is dead. The star they once called Sol is dead. The once-shining Local megagalaxy is dying, and soon that too will be dead. All across the universe itself, everything is dying. The last remaning traces of life huddles together for warmth, basking in the red glow of the remaining scattered dwarf stars. All the remnants of life, save one.
Humanity is working. Two galactic cycles ago, the last remaining humans had banded together to build the Last Work. It was to be their siren song, their last futile effort to resist fate itself.
Though the Golden Eon had long passed and the intergalactic empire had since collapsed, each human still possesed an enormous wealth of energy. Now, they pool that energy together to build a megastructure that rivaled the greatest of their ancestors. Kilosols of hydrogen are coalesced together into a massive cloud. Stellar-mass black holes are strategically placed in precisely calculated orbits. Fleets of starships numbering in the tens of billions swarm around, the activity of their mass drives only visible by the way they reflect the sparse, barely-visible starlight.
Now, two cycles later, construction is done. The Last Work sines with an intensity unmatched by anything else remaining in the megagalaxy. Twenty-six black holes spiral around the edges, each fed by a constant stream of matter infalling from an outer cloud composed of mostly rock and dust. Massive disks balance precariously against the hawking radiation, turning each singularity into an immense Shkadov thruster.
In the middle of the thrusters, six smaller black holes orbit, shepherding the cloud of hydrogen that permeates the Work and slowly feeding it into the center of the Work. Around each of these black holes, fully-automated starship swarms orbit, slowly recharging their antimatter reserves before speeding off to maintain the Work. At the very center of this assembly sits the crown jewel: The Ark.
The Ark is a small star, no larger than any of the red dwarf stars that fill the megagalaxy. It is surrounded by a network of immense and complex machinery, an intricate system of mass drives all pointed inward. The system of mass drives is the second-most complex assembly within the Work, and it has a very important purpose. It manipulates the Ark, allowing the small star to fuse every element from helium to iron. The design ensures the Ark will be able to extract every bit of useful energy out of the hydrogen while still remaining small, giving it an extremly long lifespan. Surrounding the Ark, a Dyson Swarm extracts the energy of the Ark to power the mass drives, with the remaining energy fed to a Matrioshka brain meant to held the conciousness of the remaining humans.
At the core of the Ark is the most complex assembly in the Work and quite possibly the entire universe. A relic of the Golden Eon, it is what made the Last Work possible. The last remaining Hyperdrive floats in the very center of the Ark, protected by a warp bubble. Using energy from the star, it syphens out the unfusable iron at the core of the star, shunting the mass through higher dimensions using long-lost technology to the outer rim of the Work, to be used to power the black-hole thrusters.
Though syphoning the iron within the core of the Ark is important, it is not the primary purpose of the Hyperdrive. Using the energy extracted from the core of the Ark, it generates a stable bubble of spacetime within the confines of hyperspace. Separated from the rest of the universe, it is possible for the bubble to experience an extreme amount of time dialation without requiring an immense expenditure of energy. The end result is a sort of `` stasis field'' that keeps the precious cargo within safe from the ravages of entropy.
One by one, the humans prepare to board the Last Work. Their personal fleets are added to the custodial swarm. Their conciousnesses are transferred to the Matrioshka brain. The DNA of their remaining clone bodies is sampled and stored, then the bodies disassembled and converted to usable elements. Finally, once the process of boarding is completed, the final cargo is brought into place. The DNA samples are all cloned and used to produce embryos for several thousand replacement bodies for each of the remaining humans. The DNA is also recombined and used to create an additional one-hundered and seventy-five billion human embryos. These are all packaged and stored within a massive, fully-automated complex with the capability to grow each and every body into adulthood.
Additionaly, a half-sol of useful elements is processed into ingots and stored in massive cargo containers. A fleet of automated utility ships guides the cargo containers into a holding formation near the complex, to be later used to fabricate new tools and equipment for the future colonists. Once that is done, the fleet parkes itself next to the complex and awaits the final startup sequence.
The Hyperdrive roars to life. An expanding stasis bubble engulfs the complex, the cargo containers, and the attending fleet. The bubble, a black featureless sphere barely visible against the black, almost featureless sky, ripples and wavers before suddenly shrinking into nothing as it is sucked into hyperspace. And with that, the Work is underway.
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[ WP ] You understand why the love of your life is leaving .
| 3 years, 5 months, 14 days, and 2 hours. That's how long I've loved you -- or at least known that I love you. And in 15 minutes I have made everything come crashing down. I never knew time could pass so slow. First it was the tears, then the anger, and lastly the quiet. God watching you stand there so silent, so still, it was unbearable.
You looked like one of those girls in the sad paintings we would see at the art show downtown. I'm going to miss going to those with you. We would spend hours drinking shitty drinks making fun of the conversations we overheard.
But I ca n't think of memories right now. All I can do is stand here, trying not to break down. In one swift moment you put down that bright blue bra we both know is n't yours and you walk out of the door. I want to chase after you, tell you the truth. I stole that bra from the laundry room, those pants are my roommate's sisters. I want to scream and tell you that I would never do this to you. As much as I want to end this masquerade I can not.
All I want is for you to know I still love you, but if you knew that you would n't go. You're angry, you've told me you hate me. You scream and cried, called me a lier. And you are right. I am a lier, I never told you that my doctor gave me a timeline. If I did n't push you away now I would n't be able to hid it anymore.
I hope that you will forget about me. I hope that you will be able trust people again. I hope one day you will learn that I never really cheated on you. I just needed you to move on. You are such an amazing person, I do n't want you to waste your life on someone like me. I hope one day you'll find love, like I had for you.
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[ WP ] The Martian colonization is a success , and the first human born on Mars begins keeping a diary of his day-to-day life .
| Day 1: Dear diary... Being born is disgusting.
Day 2: Dear diary... The large ones are showing me some pretty interesting stuff. Time for boobies.
Day 3: Dear diary... The large ones seemed pretty upset when they found you. Apparently a baby is n't supposed to be able to have such complex thoughts, let alone be able to express them in a written language.
Day 10: Dear diary... It would appear as though I am considered `` unusual'' by the standards of the colonists. I've overheard them speaking in their language of the fact that I am physically growing nearly 350 times faster than they had expected. My intelligence seems to be growing at an even faster rate. I'll have to do some research.
Day 20: Dear diary... This sucks. My room sucks, this colony sucks, this planet sucks. I have to work on the farm tomorrow, but fuck that. Time to explore.
Day 30: Dear Journal, I apologize for allowing such time between entries. A lot has happened. It is obvious now that I am not born of normal means. My parents were not people in love, but rather two separate sequences of DNA. One of which was discovered here on this planet. The colonists have no idea what they are dealing with and have shuffled their feelings towards me. I do n't like being treated this way.
Day 33: Yolaura. Beautiful Yolaura. She treats me differently than the others. Spending time with her on a blanket staring up at the nights sky locating the blue speck she said was her home is some of my happiest moments. I tried to kiss her but while I look, act, and think like an adult, she tells me that normally, someone who is a month old is much different than myself and she is confused. I'll give her the time she needs, time I may not have.
Day 50: Barbarians. I've been in lock up for 15 days now. My hair has gone wiry and gray. I finally convinced them to let me have my journal and reading my last entry about Yolly brings tears to my eyes. They caught us spending the night together. The colonist did not like that Yolly and I feel strongly about building a life together. They consider me a mistake and unnecessary. It only took a few days for her to start showing signs that she was pregnant. So we were separated. Now, instead of filling my days looking into her brown eyes and planning for the arrival of our child, I receive daily reminders of how much I resemble garbage and should be killed instead of being a drain on supplies.
Day 51: I have nothing. I am nothing.
Day 52: Nothing.
Day 53: nothing
Day 54: nothing
Day 56: NOTHING
Day 59: Nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing nothing
Day 62: it's a boy! My beautiful Yolaura visited me today and told me she has given me a son! She says he's healthy and is growing up so fast. She was n't allowed to bring him with her to visit, but she says he's already top of his class and loves music and girls. Now that she has left, I feel a deep anger rising within me.
Day 66: no word from my family. From the moment I was born I flew through life faster than anyone, leaving them all behind. Now it's my turn to be left behind.
Day 73: I met Dannard today. My son. He's 20 days old today. He looks almost exactly like me from 2 months ago except he has Yolaura's deep eyes. He said he'd be back tomorrow. I ca n't wait to see him again.
Day 90/37: It is with great sorrow that I lay to rest FODannard. He was my father and the author of this journal... and he deserved better. Once I learned of his suffering after my initial visit, I planned his escape with my mother Yolaura. Unfortunately the remainder of his days were spent slipping away into old age and then into peace without having met his grandsons. I will continue this journal in his honor and as a way to record the complex reasons behind my choice to raise my children away from M.Colony1. I have impregnated 7 of the Earth cadets and they have agreed to join my family as we establish M.Colony2.
Farewell FODannard.
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[ WP ] You are a Nigerian prince and to save your family 's life , you must give away the family fortune to somebody online .
| “ No, no, no. It can ’ t be done! ” I screamed, as the masked men held assault riffles in my face. The action-figure-built leader of the militia stepped forward, “ You think this a game, Mr. Nigerian Prince? ”
I thought to myself, “ Yes, clearly this is a game. ” Unfortunately, my ability to handle pressure is not something that my father, The Nigerian King, has ever taught me. And, without hesitation, my mouth opened, “ Yes, sir, I think this is a game— “
“ This is not a game! ” Mr. Militia shrieked. The room of people, including myself, and my wife -- A Nigerian Princess -- our chef, and the remainder of the militia awkwardly looked at each other, as Mr. Militia ’ s shriek violently cracked. I felt frightened, yet embarrassed -- I think we all did.
Mr. Militia composed himself and remarkablely found his devilish voice once again. He held a gun to my wife ’ s head, “ You better give your fortune away to somebody in the US, via email, otherwise you will be a Mr. Nigerian Widower. ”
I did not like the sound of that title. But I figured my life was over. My wife was going to be killed. My remaining family would be killed. Everything I ever known and experienced flashed before my eyes. A feeling of disgust and anger – rage and fury -- simmered on the top layer of my skin. All I said was, “ I ’ ll send that email. But it ’ s not possible. The Americans never trust an email from a Nigerian Prince. Never. ”
___________________________________________________________________
“ Hunny! We have a problem! ” The young American couple panicked – it ’ s something they have always heard about, but something they never experienced. Using their parenting skills, they harmonized perfectly, “ Robert, get down here, now! ”
The fifteen year old boy sat in front of his parents, “ What did you do, son? ” Robert looked around the room, “ I ’ m not really sure. You tell me, guys. ”
The parent ’ s look on their face told a simple story: they ’ ve heard this one too many times from their son.
“ You accepted a $ 258,459,090 check from a Nigerian Prince. ” Robert was filled with excitement, “ Dammit, I wanted to surprise you guys. We ’ re rich! ”
The parent ’ s sighed at the stupidity of their young son, “ No, Robert, it ’ s a scam – a scam that has gone on for longer than you have been alive. ”
“ Guys, it ’ s not a scam and I have proof. ” The parents curiously looked at each other.
“ At the bottom of the email, the Nigerian Prince said that this is not a scam! I just had to accept his fortune, and that ’ s it. We will receive the money within a week! ”
___________________________________________________________________
George and Linda, both fifty years old, sit in front of a large desk. George wears a suit jacket on top, and basketball shorts and flip-flops on his bottom. Linda wears something similar.
“ Our top story today, Linda… Well, you wouldn ’ t believe it. ”
“ I still don ’ t believe it, ” says Linda.
“ A fifteen year old boy will receive a Medal of Honor from the City of Ohio after he accepted a Nigerian Prince ’ s fortune, via email, which, for the first time in existence, was a legitimate offer. ”
“ Incredible, ” says Linda.
“ A militia threatened to murder the Nigerian Prince ’ s entire family, unless he gave away his whole fortune to a U.S. Citizen, and thankfully, the fifteen year old boy ignored all common sense and accepted the offer… Ultimately saving the Nigerian Prince and The Nigerian Prince ’ s family. What a brilliant young man, ” says George.
“ It makes you wonder, though, how many Nigerian Prince ’ s families were killed, because of ignorant Americans who always believed that this email was a scam. ”
“ It sure does make you wonder, Linda. Sometimes, if it looks to good to be true, it probably is, but other times, it may make you rich and save a Prince ’ s life. It ’ s a 50/50 gamble that we should all take at some point in our lives… In other news. ”
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[ WP ] Your subject is a 12 year old girl who needs to consume the blood of humans ( enough blood to kill the victim ) once every 24 hours to survive . Make my sympathize with her .
| “ It ’ s the first ever case of sanguisitis. ” The doctor was telling her parents. “ I have absolutely no explanation as to why she developed it this late in life, but there it is. If she does not consume approximately three liters of whole blood in a day. Her stomach lining will suffer irreparable damage and leak acidic fluids into her other vital organs. ”
The doctor sat outside the little girl ’ s waiting room with her parents, looking in on the little girl who did not know what was being discussed. She had been brought in several days ago with increasingly agonizing stomach pain, and up until now the physicians had no idea what was causing it.
“ How could you have possibly discovered this? ” Her mother asked. “ I mean that ’ s not a normal part of hospital diagnostic testing is it? ”
“ No, we certainly do not ask patients to consume whole blood. We only found out when she suffered a small laceration on her finger and put the digit into her mouth to dull the pain. The stomach pain was momentarily alleviated, and the rest was just the scientific process. ” The scientific process normally existed to rule out the existence of such things, but there was a first time for everything.
“ Why blood? Surely there ’ s something else you can use as a substitute. I mean, what is it in blood that resolves her stomach problem. ” Her father inquired.
“ We are not entirely sure. The current theory is that the precise mix of proteins in whole human blood is necessary to negate whatever is dissolving her stomach lining. We tried multiple substitutes: pig ’ s blood, blood plasma, red blood cells, sheep ’ s blood, bicarbonate buffered saline solution, several proteins both in pill and IV form, and none of it worked. As far as we can tell, she needs human blood, and about three liters of it a day. Thank you nurse. ” A nurse entered the room with a bowl of her afternoon meal. The trio watched as she was presented with it, and once again asked the nurse if there was anything else she could eat. As of yet the doctor ’ s were not confident feeding her anything else, and she was already tired of it.
“ What about contaminated blood? I mean you can ’ t screen for everything. What if she gets something from this? ” The mother asked.
“ It ’ s an unavoidable risk at this point. We ’ ll keep trying, and see if there ’ s something else, anything else that we can use, but for now, this is what we must deal with. ” It was a sad thing watching the girl having to slowly drink, and the parents had to avert their eyes after a moment.
“ There is a silver lining. ” The doctor added, and the two parent ’ s heads snapped up. “ As of forty minutes ago, her own blood has saved over 23 lives. ”
“ What? How? Surely she can ’ t spare any blood of her own? ” The parents asked.
“ Well, in the first place she replaces her own blood at about 20 times the normal rate. In the second place, it produces anti-bodies with abnormally high densities of antibodies, including several classes we have seen before. We did some tests, and they appear to be capabale of repelling all known bacterial and viral infections, including those of incurable diseases. She has been dealt a hard hand in life but there will be countless thousands who owe their lives to her. ”
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[ WP ] You have a unique way of handling headaches : projecting them into other objects ( often destroying them ) or other people . Today you happen to have a particularly bad migraine .
| This is it. This is the big one. I can see it in my veins, pulsating, throbbing- why does n't it ever stop? The pain this time is too much to bear- the world feels like it's going to collapse on my head. Ever since that god damn stupid war, they just did n't stop. Hour after hour until I black out because my brain ca n't handle it. I never would have thought the military would have
* * *
I woke up, once again in my bed, pain invading every single neuron of my mind. Is this what they do to keep us in line? To keep us from fighting back after we see the truth? I swear, I swear it's them. The God damn government did this to me. I bet they did n't anticipate me being able to cause damage with it though. That's something I'm mildly grateful for. If I ever see a god damn grey-headed senator I'll blow his fucking head into
* * *
The pain is surging, coming back harder and harder in waves. I scream and cry and beat the wall as if that's going to help. I glance at my piece over on the chair: a nicely polished.45 M1911, a bargain I got from the most recent gun show. I can end it all, end all the pain right now, all it takes is just one
* * *
After awaking, I tried to calm down by cleaning the pistol and attempt to formulate some real, coherent thoughts. Instead of them being suicide-related, I could only concentrate about ending others. Something, after my experience in the war, I did n't think I would want to do ever again. But the thoughts were there, and they kept coming, and they were convincing. War showed me that the only way to get shit done is to kill; I know what I have
* * *
After hearing again and again about government bullshit, suits killing innocent good people, I could n't take it anymore. My head continued to burst and the pain only grew stronger; instead of killing or destroying to relieve it, I was charging it's power. All this pain will be worth it soon enough. I collected all my thoughts that I could salvage and put them into a manuscript- telling the world about the truth. I then packed my bags and started driving. I drove for a bit in my truck and happened upon the building: Alfred P. Murrah Federal- where those fuckers worked at killing good citizens like me. I got out of my truck, and focused, really, really focused all my energy in my head. The pain was so bad it stole my hearing and put a damper on my vision. It did n't matter, I could see the target. The pain was excruciating, I was dying, but then my eyes found one of those suits in a window and
* * *
It could not have been ten or fifteen minutes later. I lay about a few hundred feet from the building, which was now half demolished and set ablaze, filled with screams and blood and guts. I felt great. The relief was better than anything I had ever felt in the world, and all the energy sent to the feds to boot. My mind was now clear and I could see everything- I must have got at least a hundred of them. You're welcome America. As the building continued to crumble, I quickly hopped in my truck, which I noticed seemed to sustain a little damage to the back, and drove away with a big grin on my face. After some time I turned onto I-35, I was scot-free
* * *
Another ache came, albeit smaller- I found myself in a cell. A jail cell. This ca n't be good. A blue pig came wobbling up to the bars looking at me with his dirty pig eyes, he then opened his dirty pig mouth:
`` You're coming with me McVeigh.''
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[ WP ] Every morning your phone calls someone random for five minutes . What 's the best call you ever had ?
| *bzzzt*
I'm some sort of an international celebrity at this point for everyone else in the world because of circumstances. But for me, its nothing new and has become my typical morning routine.
*bzzzt*
I finish my last sip of coffee, then click close the browser page for the Swedish Number on my desktop.
*bzzzt*
8:59 AM goes my silent phone alarm as I mentally prepare for whoever it could be.
*bzzzt*
I pull out the old smartphone I've had for nearly five years and swipe on the screen for the buzzing to stop.
I now wait for about thirty seconds before some person in this world is compelled to answer their soon to be ringing phone. Just like me, its some force that makes us connect, compels us to respond to one another. And then we talk for exactly five minutes. It's been that way since I unplugged that shitty Comcast service and switched over to just a smartphone from this then new company called HeavenAir.
I watch as the phone clock magically changes to read 9:00AM and I put the device up to my face. I wait a second before I start hearing the ringing, steadying my breath and waiting for the person to answer.
A few more rings longer than normal, but it stops and I finally get an exasperated and a little nervous `` Hello?'' from the other end.
`` Hi. I'm the Caller. What would you like to talk about today?''
`` Oh, God. It's you. I've heard about you,'' I hear from the other end. The voice sounds like from New York- brusque, working-man, and strangely familiar all at once.
Not everyone can say they like me. The Caller is now an infamous internet sensation. Some call it a hoax by the conspiracy community that rivals the interest in sex rings and pizza that has cropped up as of late. Others call it a divine inspiration that comes from above. Others shrug their shoulders and dismiss it out of hand as urban legend and move on with their lives.
`` How did you get this number?'' goes the voice as it sounds more threatening this time. `` It's totally secret.''
I would of be of the latter group if not for the fact I'm the one compelled to call. At first, it was scary as some force made me reach every day for the phone and converse with hapless victims on the other side of the line.
`` Secret does n't mean it ca n't be called,'' I reply matter-of-factually. `` And if you ever read any sort of dossier, you know that even a line with one endpoint can still be reached by me.''
There were three rules I learned about my strange and compelled ability.
`` I was briefed on that,'' the voice said curtly. `` And it was fake news to me, I said. But now- I see it is true.''
`` Very and unfortunately true,'' I agreed.
The first I already explained, a compulsion to converse with anyone for exactly five minutes a day at exactly 9AM.
`` So I guess we wo n't know how you did this because my men, who are the smartest people on the planet, ca n't trace you.''
`` I did explain that connection is irrelevant; you have a phone, expect a call from me.''
The second is unlimited access to any phone, even if unplugged or limited in who could call it.
`` They also say they do n't know who you are,'' he said with thick suspicion. `` So what do I call you?''
`` You may of missed my introduction of which I apologize, but I am the Caller. That is all you need to know...''
The final was the ability to converse with anyone in any language no matter the barrier, and with total and complete anonymity.
Which meant that no one, not even the most powerful men on the planet could ever figure out who I am or was.
``... Mr. President.''
*edit- Darn! Ran out of time to flesh out an extended conversation. If there is interest, I'll do a Part II later!
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[ WP ] You are a relatively silent and shy high school student who is asked to do an on the spot speech on graduation day in front of the crowd . You use this chance to tell your side of high school that you ’ ve kept to yourself all four years .
| `` Hey, uh, guys. I'm sure you all know me, but for those of you who do n't my name is Nomsfud. I was n't expecting to be put on the spot like this, I thought it'd be someone else, like Tyler, or Steve, or even Tays over there. Not me. Anyway, where do I start?
The last four years have been a blur. I remember learning lots of stuff, and Outward Bound being a blast. Remember when we went dogsled ding back in grade 10? You know, up in Thunder Bay? That was a good time. And building those quincies and pretending to sleep in them but really sneaking back to the cabin after the guides went away? Yeah, I do n't remember that last part either. Seems I never got the message.
I loved the party I went to with you guys back when I was a new kid here in grade 9, that was fun. And the one I went to this past year, that was a great time too. I guess we were a grade who did n't party too much. Oh well, I guess we were n't that social overall anyway since I do n't remember going over to anyone's house, nor do I remember hanging out after school. We all pretty much were focused on studying all the time. Granted, I do n't understand why our collective GPA was better. Oh well, the curriculum in a private school is rigorous.
I hope we all succeed next year in college, and I'd say stay in touch, but all of you told me you thought Facebook was lame. Either way, congratulations to the class of 2006! Have a blast next year!''
*A lot of this was drawn from real life experiences*
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[ WP ] Everyone gains an animal that represents their soul when they 're 16 . Those who have done bad things become monsters or demons . Tell us about what you see daily .
| I'm here, five minutes before everyone else. They do n't let you bring your familiar into the office with you, so there's this rush at the kennel around nine in the morning. All those squawking, squeaking things, tagged and tucked away. You can play with them at lunch hour, if you like. Most people do. They set up a little pagoda in the wolf run where people can eat last night's leftovers and stroke their lonely soul. I usually eat at my desk. It cuts me out of socialization, but there's always drinks on Friday.
I'm thankful for this job. I want to do good here. Most people do n't understand my situation. It's as if I were atheist, or asexual, or any other adjective with an a- suffix: there's something missing, something that should be universal across the whole of human experience, and the mass majority do not understand. My work is nothing more than low-level clerical stuff, but I want my supervisors to be happy. I do n't want them to regret the choice they made with me. I do n't want them to be sitting with their wife and children, falcons on their shoulders, describing how they always knew there was something wrong with the man with no soul.
Except for Friday, I always stay a little bit later. I do n't like to be on the subway with everyone else, one hand on the pole and the other holding their animal's harness. I am out of place, sitting alone, trying to read my book and forget the surreptitious stares. The children are always more honest. They just stare. Some of them ask if my familiar was killed, or if I'm someone else's familiar. You hear about that sometimes, in North Korea or other dictatorships, where powerful men drag around hungry little children as if it were something to be proud of.
It was accepted almost immediately that your familiar was the shape of your soul, external. How easy it was to accept the mere existence of the thing. Children in public school stare into their math books, dreaming of dragons, or horses, or dinosaurs. Dating profiles list them - single white female, 34, pine marten, seeking male 25-35, any race, canine or usine only. Some do n't let you leave that field blank.
I enjoy Fridays. I enjoy drinking. Last weekend, the fellows from Human Resources went out to a karaoke bar. I drank craft pale ales and sang TISM. People laughed at me. I like that, too. On Wednesdays, the bar has an open mic, and I would like to stand there then, maybe. They could laugh at me, or applaud, or do anything they want. Peoples' faces are naked things, when they think you're here to entertain them.
At home, I keep a bottle of Glenmorangie for occasions and Appleton for sleep. I remove my shoes in the empty hall and microwave something - ready-meals, or food my mother leaves me. I turn on the television and mute it, enjoying the flickering light.
Behind my couch is an acoustic guitar. With a full glass I tune it, and pluck a few swift notes. From my open shirtsleeve struggles a cricket, a little thing, barely there. It flicks it's head to and fro, listening to the melody being born, and lifts its little wings to sing along.
It's here. Hidden, but here. We are very good with our little melody. We have been practicing in secret for a very long time.
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[ WP ] `` For sale by owner - 1 universe . Used . slight exapnding problems . As is . $ 10 or best offer ''
| Dave noticed his dear friend Chuck sitting at his front lawn, laying back in a lawn chair and looking to the sky. Sure, it was a hot day and all, but Dave looked at what sat beside Chuck. It was a stool, and on top of that sat some sort of tag.
`` Uh, hey Chuck.''
Chuck acknowledged Dave. `` Oh, hey pal!'' He looked back to the sky.
A short silence, then from Dave: `` Are you -- waiting for something?''
Chuck shrugged. `` You could say that.''
`` What're you doing Chuck?''
Chuck looked at the stool with the tag. `` Oh, I'm only selling the universe.''
Dave laughed a little. He knew Chuck could sometimes be a great joker... but then he thought, what was the intention of this latest prank? Dave asked him that.
`` Prank? This is n't a prank. I just, got bored -- well bored is n't the right word really, more like... *disappointed* with the universe. And now I'm looking for someone to buy it from me.''
They stood in more silence. Dave's eyes investigated Chuck's face, looking for any crack or tell letting him know that Chuck was joking, but found none.
Dave went closer to the stool and read the tag. `` Ten bucks eh?''
`` Yep.''
`` Why is the price so low?''
Chuck shrugged. `` I've come to realize that money is n't the top priority of mine anymore. Hell, I'd give the universe for free if you'd like.''
*If I'd like? *, Dave thought. *Apparently were bargaining now. Okay, I'll play along... *
`` Well, alright then. Give me the universe Chuck!''
Chuck stood up and shook hands with Dave. `` Well congrats my man, you are now the proud owner of the Universe! I hope you enjoy it.''
***Three weeks later***
Dave stood outside his front lawn, in the dead of night, hands in the air and looking down at the ground.
The alien that came for him many lightyears away finished investigating his home. `` Well, where is it?!''
`` I -- I do n't know!''
The alien slapped Dave's face. `` Come on, how could you misplace the Universe? *It's fucking huge -- *''
`` * -- I do n't know, I just do n't know! *'' Tears flowed down Dave's cheeks.
Silence. Then the alien pointed his blaster at Dave's head. `` You're pathetic.''
Before he could pull the trigger, Chuck ran in, in his robe and slippers.
`` Woah dude, stop!''
`` Make me shithead!''
`` Dave, where's the receipt?''
Dave's eyes widened. `` The receipt?''
`` Yeah the receipt, you know, the tag? Where is it?''
Dave squinted his eyes and lowered his head in shame. `` I..I threw it away...''
Chuck looked at Dave in disgust.
`` Guess I can shoot him now,'' the alien said.
Chuck shrugged, and walked back home.
Edit: Grammer
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[ WP ] A new app is going viral , and everyone who plays it ca n't stop talking about it . When you finally download it , it 's just a blank , yellow screen .
| At first, you were sure that your copy of the app was corrupted or something, but reinstalling had n't changed a thing. Neither had looking online for a solution, as that had confirmed that there was nothing wrong with the app you'd downloaded... at least, not in a technical sense.
You click on a BuzzFeed article about the app that your friend had so heartily recommended: `` Yellowspace: What *is* entertainment?''
`` The latest application sweeping the nation's smartphones has polarized users into two camps,'' the article read. `` One sees the app as a new, untapped vista of entertainment, one that puts the experience almost entirely in the user's own hands. Supporters say that the user's imagination is challenged to give as much as it gets from the application, and that the limits of what YellowSpace can be are entirely up to the person using it.
`` In the opposing camp are those who ask:'What the fuck is this even supposed to be?'''
You shake your head as you peruse the article. `` I seriously ca n't believe this.''
`` I know,'' your friend Brian says, folding his arms. `` It's like people need all their entertainment spoon-fed to them these days. I ca n't believe there are people that do n't understand what YellowSpace is. What is *can* be.''
Your mouth drops open, and you turn to him. `` What? You actually think there's something *to* this app?''
Brian groans. `` Oh, *no*. You're one of *them*, are n't you?''
`` One of them?'' You throw up your hands. `` One of the people who wants their entertainment to actually *be* something?! Yes, I am one of them. You're a smart guy, Brian. How can you be taken in by this? You pay $ 1.99 for this app, and it's just a yellow screen. The'developers' who made this are laughing all the way to the bank, all the while claiming that they've made some kind of revolutionary masterpiece!''
Brian shook his head. `` I'd hoped you'd be a little smarter about this. Entertainment gets dumbed down more every day. It's all explosions, sex, and one-liners getting pumped into your brain while you sit there, slack-jawed.'' He loads up the app on his phone, and shoves the bright-yellow screen towards you. `` This is the *opposite* of all that. This is a declaration that you can think for yourself. That you do n't need a bunch of audio-visual junkfood in order for your mind to be stimulated. Unlike everything on TV, in the movies, and on the internet, this is a challenge for your mind.''
You stare at him, open-mouthed. `` If you do n't want to be spoon-fed junkfood, then put your fucking phone away!''
`` Tell you what, man,'' Brian says, tapping some more buttons on his phone. `` At least try WhiteNoise. If anything, it's even more --''
`` No, no,'' you say, holding up your hands. `` I'll pass, thanks.''
***
r/Click_Klack
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[ WP ] A world where suicide is not only socially acceptable , but is the norm .
| As the world became more populated, the norms of death shifted. The earth gasped for breath and heaved underneath the terrible burden that she could barely sustain. One generation, watching the last generation cling to life on ventilators that ran on the energy that could be powering lights in a school, came to decide that death was nothing to fear.
Death could, in fact, be a gift.
Resources that would otherwise be used to sustain someone who no longer wished to live could be passed down to the next generation like an inheritance, precious and personal. The cessation of one's life was seen as a final passage after the completion of an epic journey, and people often bragged that their Charon would have to struggle to find them in the crowds of adoring people that would be attending their rites. Suicide was a dirty word, a selfish word, and so it was lost along with the lives it claimed. People had rites - and *rites were right*, so the saying went.
The end of one's life became celebrated. After living many years, or becoming ill, or simply tiring of living, people would gather in their homes with their friends and families, happy and laughing. Some people preferred to go alone, but traditionally a life-ending ceremony was a family affair as much as a birth was. The Charon would eventually come and join into the party, dressed in white and shining a silver smile. Though all the party goers would recognize the stranger for who they were, no one would point out the intruder, and small children that did so were gently chastised.
During the course of the rites, the Charon would make their way over to the passer, and they would have a small chat before the Charon administered a lethal dose. The party would continue, and as the guests began to leave they would filter past the host, leaning over to kiss a cheek or have a final hug before exiting. Tears were shed, but tears of both loss and happiness; though one had gone on, life bloomed voluminously forth, like mushrooms growing on a fallen log.
It was a gift that meant one of them could live just one more year.
A gift that meant another happy couple could be allowed an infant permit.
A gift, a gift of space, and a gift of time, given from one who no longer needs to one who could not need more.
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[ TT ] It is the year 2120 and sexuality discrimination and conflicts are a thing of the past -until humanity meets an alien race with a third gender .
| `` Get up! Baby killer!''
I pull myself into a tight ball. I feel him kick me repeatedly. My inner shell begins to bruise.
'Stop. Please...'
A siren shrieks, and my attacker oozes away into the darkness. I sense a trooper looking at me. A boot nudges me over. Too tired to resist, I unball myself. The soldier is a woman. She's young, maybe fourteen. But her furrowed brow already has the cracked distressing I've seen in so many of her kind. Her scowl lingers for a moment, then she taps her armor with a gesture.
`` Nothing out here. Just a local scuffle.''
She leaves me lying here, shallow breaths and bloodied arms be dammed.
I'll never understand humans. They act so righteous but have no mercy. They hate my kind for what we are. Oh, not my brothers and sisters. They can understand what they call'genders' that birth young and that raise them, although their race seems to share the responsibility unlike my species. But they can not tolerate my gender; `` se'roph'' as we say. They call us baby killers. They claim we are immoral. That we have no emotion.
They do n't understand.
My gender is the only one of my kind which experiences `` ott'linnd'uh,'' what humans might crudely call compassion. We are born to be caretakers. To seek out young, and to save the strong ones until they are ready to be reared by their single parent. Each hatchling is cared for and loved by us, and we are the ones who sacrifice most. We never get to experience attachment of our young, we are never able to see them grow. Our sole purpose is to simply help them survive. They are passed on to be nurtured, and we never see them again. Those too weak to survive, or born at inopportune times, we bear the burden of doing away with. The humans have focused on this one point, and seem to imagine our sole existence is to slaughter young. They cruelly believe for every life to be given a chance to live to it's fullest means each individual life must be kept alive until it perishes, unaided.
I pick myself up, and slowly crawl towards the darkness. I can not tell if I will regenerate.
Humans tend to evaluate things by their potential, rather than their realities. The reality is there is no more room for both of our species. They are killing us off slowly. Allowing the hatred felt by most of their kind for my gender to destroy so many of us, and in turn, our young. Soon, my brothers and sisters. We do not have long in this world.
After we are gone, perhaps the humans will grasp the sacrifices that are made, to ensure the survival of the ones you love.
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[ WP ] Everybody in your town vanishes , and your only hints are a post-it note that says `` You won . '' and a block of cheese .
| You feel bad about the loss of your friends and family. That guy that walks every morning and the old lady who power jogs the entire town three time a day every weekday is also part of that list.
However you do n't care about the neighbors in your community, they were conspiring with the H.O.A. anyways. You look at the block of cheese that was left on your counter and decided to make some mac and cheese. The shock is starting to fade as you consider the possible reasons for the town's lack of people.
You've successfully made your mac and cheese. There's quite a bit of cheese left. You put a note on your phone to figure out how to store it. Your mac and cheese taste delightful, but for some reason it tastes a lot like iron. You go to the sink in your kitchen to get water, hoping to wash the taste out. The water comes out of the faucet and into your cup. You remember to `` acquire'' a filter from the store now that you realize there's no one here to stop you.
As you leave your house you see the sun shine and the birds call. Despite the town's loss the world moves on indifferent to your town. As you head into town you're caught off guard by how alive it seems despite the lack of people. The flowers away in the wind. It's curling around you, gently nudging you out of its path as it strolls down the street. Pets seemed to be released from their confinement and form packs. They all seem quite happy by the looks of it.
You reach the store after a few more minutes and get your filter. You vaguely think about paying and eventually do
Even if you're alone there's rule to consider. You feel a prickle on your neck as if something's watching you. You look over your shoulder and see one of the quarter ride figurines in front. You never rode one when you were a kid and feel like it's your time to shine. You jongle your pocket for change and find three quarters. Enough to ride it three times. You grin as you climb on; your frame barely allowing you to get your legs in comfortably. You let the good vibes flow as it moves around its music reminiscent of an old time arcade. After the first ride you decide to ride it while your legs are sticking out on the side. Your butt fits comfortably but your legs dangle off the side nearly touching the ground. When it starts the second time you hear squelching. You jump out and look at the ride. There's blood everywhere. You look around aghast at the turn of events. You look for your phone in your pocket.
You find the note. It says you won on the front. But you turn it to reveal its back. `` Hallucination brought about by cannibalism can lead lead to increasingly violent behavior. The subject is to be-'' the rest is presumably part of the larger document. You look at your hands and notice the blood. You slowly turn around to look at the ride. A sledgehammer and brain matter is all you focus on before you throw up.
After your heaving is done you clean your mouth up with the note. As you look up everything is smeared with blood, the roads the store fronts. The animals that were there earlier are still in their packs and seem to not notice you in their midst. You run home increasingly distraught until you catch the smell of your mac and cheese. You go to the pot and eat some more. You are euphoric.
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[ EU ] A pair of young German men step into the office of Dr. Henry `` Indiana '' Jones at Marshal College after class one day . Politely the two introduce themselves as Edward and Alphonse Elric .
| ( ( Sorry for the long post. I literally just finished the 2003 series so I'm super excited for this one! Also, a starting apology for probably getting Indiana's [ whom I refer to as Indy ] personality wrong. I have n't seen any of the movies. ) )
`` We know want to know about The Gate,'' the one named Alphonse says sternly.
Indy pauses and glances over the two boys. A face flashes in his mind briefly as a distant memory stirs. Elric. Why does it seem like he'dheard that name before?
`` What gate are you talking about?'' Indy asks flippantly. `` And better yet, what are boys like yourselves doing here? You seem too young to be taking one of my classes.''
`` Young? I'm almost 20 years old!'' shouts the other, Edward. `` Do n't play dumb. We know you found something in Southern England! Just tell us about The Gate!''
`` Brother please,'' Alphonse pleads, placing a hand on Edward's shoulder. As his fingers curl around to get a better grasp, there is an audible `` clunk.''
Indy is taken aback at the sudden anger of the shorter boy, but more so by his knowledge. He had n't even published his findings on his recent trip to the Stonehenge monument yet. How did two such young boys get such secret information?
`` Who did you talk to? Was it Marcus?'' demands Indy, wondering if he had said something off hand to one of the students who had accompanied him. He starts to shuffle through some papers on his desk.
`` We have our connections, but that part is not important. We need to know what you saw on those stones,'' Alphonse asserts.
`` What makes you so interested in some simple archeological excursion? I took some of my students to see Stonehenge. That's all.''
Indy looks up at the boys and sees the intense resolve in their eyes. The face hanging in the back of his mind begins to come a little more info focus. There's a feeling of familiarity that Indy just ca n't seem to shake.
`` But that was n't all, was it?'' Edward asks slyly. He pauses, as if contemplating something quite troubling. `` What did you see there?''
Indy looks deep into Edward's eyes. The mournful yet hopeful soul of someonewho has seen more than their share of hardship stares back and the face he'd been struggling with comes fully into light. He remembers seeing those same eyes almost a year or so ago, on a man who could easily be their...
In a moment of clarity, Indy realizes why these two boys look so familiar.
`` Does the name Hoenheim mean anything to you?''
Edward chuckles. `` Ah, so you *did* know the old man. I was wondering whether he'd actually talked to you or not.''
Alphonse's face seems to light up at the mention of their father. `` I knew there would be another way back. Who else but father would find it?''
`` I do n't know where your destination is, but if you're really the children of Hoenheim, I feel a little more comfortable sharing my findings. After all, he was the one who originally suggested me revisiting the site more than a year ago. How has he been?'' Indy says, gathering his notes from the bottom drawer of his desk.
The boys share a pained look, which is all that Indy needs to understand what had become of him. He grabs the file and flips a few pages out of the way, placing them down on his desk.
`` My condolences. He was an intelligent man. Brilliant, actually. I only got to meet him twice, but he shared with me enough knowledge to last a lifetime. Come take a look,'' Indy says as he beckons the boys over.
They reach the desk as Indy pulls out a worn piece of paper with a circular pattern drawn on it. `` This, boys, is a drawing your father gave me in reference to ancient culture. He said something about circular patterns with a number of points having inate power. Now, I initially thought he was just rambling. Then, when I finally got around to Stonehenge, I noticed something peculiar.'' He pulls out another drawing, this one much newer. `` This is my depiction of the stones and their angles of incidence. There's simply no denying that they are quite similar.''
Indy glances at the boys, whose attention is solely focused on the two drawings. The intensity with which Edward was analyzing clues Indy in to continue.
`` But, like you said, that was n't all.'' The boys both quickly lock their gaze on the professor. `` On some of the stones, we found carvings. Ones that had never been documented in the history of the site.'' Indy swallows hard as he thinks about the images in his mind.
`` What do you mean?'' Alphonse inquires cautiously.
`` There were eyes scratched into eight of the stones. They were crude, but even from glancing at them, you could tell they were eyes. The way they stared into my soul made me feel uncomfortable, like I did n't belong there.''
Indy pauses to gauge the boys' interest in his experience. The uneasy look they both have shows Indy they know what he is taking about.
`` Thanks for the information, professor. Or should I say doctor? This is exactly what we were looking to hear,'' Edward says with a smile.
`` I do n't know what you boys are after, but adventure is around every corner. Just do n't get yourselves hurt looking for it,'' the professor cautions.
`` Adventure has a way of finding us,'' Alphonse says wryly. `` But thank you, and we'll try to stay safe. Goodbye Dr. Jones!''
The boys turn to leave with a wave of acknowledgement. As Indy catches sight of the back of Edward's cloak, he smirks. The embroidered symbol looks exactly like the one that had been on the ninth stone with markings.
Edit: I'm getting input from my bf about Indy. I'll update in a little while with a better version!
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[ WP ] Tired of people ignoring his writing prompts , a frustrated writer snaps
| The man clicked submit and watched the page reload. Another couple sentences turned into ones and zeroes and zipped to some server far away to sit idly, waiting for another person in some other corner of the world to interact with it. He sighed and stared for a moment at the webpage. He minimized the page and stared at the desktop. There was a smattering of gaming icons floating above a picture of the fictional “ Battle of Naboo ”.
He turned the volume knob on his speakers as he realized the robust climax of Gustav Holst ’ s “ Planets Suite ” crescendoed far too loudly for that time of evening. He knew there was no one coming to answer his internet submission. No one cared. No one had bothered to answer any of the other brilliant prompts that had gone unnoticed. He knew there was an endless stream of prompts that were submitted daily, and that one going unnoticed was not a mark of its quality, but rather a mix of time and luck. But none of this rationale mattered.
The man spun around in his chair and stood up. His teeth clenched and he swallowed back an outburst of anger, feeling it settle in the bottom of his stomach. He walked through the room and headed for the door. A grimace formed on his face as the pressure from the rain storm above acted upon his hip. The walls in the room were covered with colorful posters of art-deco underwater cities and small harry-footed men accompanying crotchety wizards, but they only became a blur to his thoughts.
He stepped into the left outside his door and pressed the button for the rooftop. The buttons only served to remind him of upvotes and downvotes. Going up in the lift was the only uplifting feeling he would ever know. The doors opened and the man was met with a long hallway, dark except for flashes of lightning blinking in the window of the adjacent door. He paced through the hallway, his footsteps echoing off the bare walls.
At the end of the hall, the man opened the door. He was hit with a wall of rain and wind and it blew back the hood of his jacket. Lightning crashed all around him as he looked over London. The city was much more desolate than usual but the intense storm filled in the void. He walked to the edge of the building and leaned over the railing. It was at least a 50-meter drop. He briefly thought of a fall-damage video game parallel, but the glimpse of levity disappeared into the maelstrom.
He clambered up onto the shining ledge and the water and wind whipped around him, as if he was in the maw of a great beast breathing him in. The zeroes were too much. The lack of engagement was too much. Just as he took his last breath before embracing the abyss, he felt a buzzing in his good hip. He pulled out his phone and saw a notification had appeared.
“ One new message. Swipe to Open Reddit App. ”
The man blinked as realization hit him. People do care. Even if it feels like no one does. They are out there and they care! The man stepped back down and the rain felt differently. His soaked shoulders were just moments before heavy with burden and anger, but now felt light and free. He realized even submitting something to the endless and merciless Internet was braver than most. The man clicked the name of an old friend in his contact list and put it to his ear.
“ Hey Matt? It ’ s me. How are you, mate. Let ’ s go to the cinema, see Star Wars again. ”
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[ WP ] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words , 2nd sentence has 19 , 3rd has 18 etc . Story ends with a single word .
| His thoughts began to wander, and as they grew further and further apart, he became aware of their waning strength.
The very idea that had brought them together had also caused their flight, but there was no more time. No more time for new associations or revelations - the last one still needed to be mended and contained.
A few small details of the path that had led him to this place remained in view.
He retreated to the earliest of his recent memories, and hope and hopelessness formed an accord. How unlike this part of the path was from its own end, how unbelievably foreign! He realized now that he had already traversed immeasurable space between two disparate ideas. Surely he could do it again; it would only mean retracing his steps.
He flit from one memory to the next, connecting past and present. Even in his haste, however, he could n't deny his evident glee. How wonderful it was that this could exist at all! How unlikely it was that such a path formed!
At the center of his joy, fear resided. Would he forget this feeling as well? Had n't he forgotten it once before? He felt his resolve strengthen.
He would n't let go. Not this time.
Now then. Think.
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[ WP ] You work for a powerful mob boss , and you know for a fact that whenever he whacks someone he sends anonymous flowers to the victim 's family . One day , you get a call from your wife thanking you for the beautiful flowers . Before you can tell her you did n't send any , there 's a knock at the door .
| I was not fast enough. I grabbed a gun, and hid behind the couch to have a good vantage point. `` Come in,'' I said, `` The door's unlocked.'' The front door slowly creaked open, and a man walked in. `` Pizza for Robert,'' he said.
`` Pizza? I did n't order any pizza.''
`` Well this says you did. You can come out from the couch now.''
I peeked over the couch to see a pizza delivery man standing there. Only when I walked towards him did I see the glint of light from the other side of the road. The sniper's bullet hit me square in the chest. The last thing I remember before dying is my wife taking off her pizza delivery desquise and saying, `` Always too easy to trick. One more, off my list.''
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[ WP ] Revisit the first prompt you wrote a response for . Write a new story for it .
| https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3rwb6q/wp_your_day_started_just_like_most_other_days_but/cwsnhac
They just would n't leave me alone. Why would n't they leave me alone?
I laughed like a spaz when the first oddball told me she was my daughter. She had to have been lighting up the tilt sign if she considered me a daddy *or* a Big Daddy, because I'm not old enough to be either one. I told her to be straight with me, but she slipped me the same old bit.
I always thought I had the jets to figure this out, but nothing touched home; a day later, she vanished, and I had a smog in the noggin... until the next bundie bashed ears with me hoping I'd play some back seat bingo with the local queen.
The same thing happened again and again; someone, usually someone more of a cube than me, would bug me, call themselves my ankle-biters, and me their keeper. Every time I told them to get bent, every time they pleaded for me to get committed with some babe, and every time they cut the gas before they copped a breeze *completely*.
I mean, I'm more of a hub cap than a big wheel; what did these cats see in me? I was drowning by these kookie germs who'd *literally* fade out every time I told them `` no''.
I was going to have to say `` yes'' someday. The wet rags would n't stop until I did.
I'll clue you - it started to affect me once round up time rolled around. I could n't pile up any Z's, I shot down all my mush, and my life was going Nowheresville. Even the warden, a real moldy, that one, pounded me when I was low just by calling me a slacker. I could n't get with it all if I tried.
I started writing some epistles to the science fiction community hoping one of those hipsters would be in orbit, but the gringles kept coming - guess they were n't as hep as I thought. By now I'm less an Ivy Leaguer, more a nerd, and would n't you know it, the bull knew it; he started laying on the grief not too long ago.
So this one day, another `` time traveler'' shows up at Lou's right as I'm refueling, followed not long after by that scorch punk, who was salty as could be. I wanted to split flat out, but he was cruisin' for a bruisin' - had to play dead like a pale one until he put an egg in his shoe and beat it.
But the square, he would n't stop *staring*, and that rattled my cage.
I went ape. Punched him in the face. His stare turned from razz to cool.
`` George,'' he begged.
I grinned cruelly as Marty McFly vanished from existence.
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[ WP ] You are an alien recording a day in the life of an average human male ; however you do n't know any of the names of the things he interacts with on a daily basis .
| Rising slowly out of slumber, the bipedal male first removes the initial layers of skins from the nest itself as it begins the awakening process, the `` coming back to'' that is so unfamiliar to us. It seems to recognize a signature tone that recalls it back to self-presence enough to stir about and more fully posit itself upright. All sorts of strange utterances and grumblings come out of the human at this point, none of which we yet understand the purpose of.
Its hand twists a ribbed cylinder attached to a conical base with a larger, open conical top with some form of hot filament within that produces the lumens necessary for optical illumination, seemingly a necessity of human usability in almost all of their nest and innovation structures. The human begins getting out of the nest at this point, slowly at first, cautiously, due to the nature of the weak limb strength at this early point in the day. The feet land on a surface not at all yet understood to us that humans seem to prefer for its softness and warmness.
As the human stumbles into other box-rooms in the nest structure, it seems to have a vague recollection of what it should be doing, not at all the standard specific and static, directed thoughts, like in ourselves. In one of these structures he opens the lid to a sort of large curved ceramic bowl, removing his reproductive organ from his pants and ejecting a foul yellow bile from it into the water contained in this bowl. A silver rod is pressed sideways, which somehow indicates to the human that it is time to be finished. The water is removed to an unknown location.
Back in the original nest room again, our human opens a wall to a smaller box containing the most diverse colors of skins in the entire nest. It changes its mind with regards to the skins it would prefer to absorb into its daily identity, taking a long time to optically observe and evaluate its appearance in a reflective wall rectangle; only with a great shrug does it seem to settle on its final choice, even then not seeming satisfied.
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[ WP ] One day , D & D players everywhere awake to discover they 've become their characters . The rest of the world is unchanged .
| The day started off like any other, me waking up in bed next to my cat Merlin. `` Yay you're awake again are you going to feed me this time?''
`` Yes Merlin I'm getting up it is 11 after all...'' I said groggily.
`` Ok, I'll be downstairs waiting for you in your litterbox.'' Merlin purred, as she stretched arching her back with a slight quiver.
Looking at my glossy black cat standing in the doorway of my bedroom I stammer out. `` Merlin?'' She looks back `` Mow?''. `` OK'' I think still sleepy `` I'm not crazy'' I think to myself as I sit on the foot of my bed. `` Of course not Endial.'' Merlin says looking me in the eye.
My usual morning routine was a bit odd conversing with my cat. She informed me that I had woken up twice already and held small conversations with her both times. She was just as confused as I that we were able to converse. I told her I was going to go out and ride the trail to try and clear my head. As I begin to ride down my street I notice my neighbor going crazy on his steering wheel just punching it the dash and banging his head against the head rest of his car. `` Bad day I suppose.'' I think to myself. I reach the end of my community as the school bus is letting out the teens from high school. A boy clad in ripped jeans and flannel T-shirt gets off the bus playing his Clarinet. The song is beautiful and inspiring I feel a new sense of vigor for the day ahead. My legs do not tire as I ride to the trail, my breathing not labored no matter how hard I push myself.
This invincible feeling wears off as I reach the trail head but I feel as though I just left the house so this is going to be a good ride. Up ahead I see some Goth kids around a squirrel about 20 feet off the trail. Chanting something in Demonic about raising a warrior in the service of Nerull. `` Hmm in addition to speaking cat, I also understand Demonic it would seem.'' The squirrel, which I had presumed to be dead pops up and begins to chase after me. It appears to have been dead for two or three days mangled fur and missing small parts of its flesh. Probably cut away by those twisted teens. `` Damn this thing is fast!'' I think as the squirrel gains on me keeping up with every twist and turn of the trail, hopping over the trail features with ease. Suddenly the squirrel leaps at me causing me to crash just before small wooden bridge over the stream. A man in his 20's with a long red beard and shaggy hair drops from a tree near me rushes over knocking the squirrel off me with a stick and then impales its smashing its head with a rock while its pinned.
`` Grlmm, well Justin but yea...'' the guy says walking over to me as I stand up from the ground. `` Endial'' I stammer out noticing the cut on my leg. Grlmm walks over grabs a few unripe berries and whispers something while rolling them in his hands. When he opens up his hands the berries are bright red and plump. `` Here eat them. they taste like hell but work great for small scrapes and muscle aches I've learned'' he says with a tinge of a chuckle in his voice. As I eat the berries I have to force myself to swallow them they taste like cherry jam with smarty tarts crushed up in them. Almost as soon as I swallow though, my leg stops bleeding and the pain is gone. `` What the hell? How did...'' Grlmm cuts me off `` I guess I'm a Druid bro. I can sense and feel all kinds of crazy shit with nature and the world. Something is definitely different today, my son woke me up this morning showing me his battle scars that he had all over his body and they looked like they came from knives and arrows! There was even one of those classic eye cut scars you see from medieval movies. My Girlfriend was doing Yoga this morning and I swear I could see her hands begin to glow! Hell even one of the Jahovas witness boys was extremely pushy this morning as I was walking to the park. Funny enough the other one did n't seem to have as much to say he just seemed confused that his Dog would n't leave his side. The pushy one however quickly ran off and began to beat someone down his bible that was trying to break into a car, the entire time quoting scripture. It was funny as shit to be honest.''
Grlmm and I hung out for the rest of the day just observing all odd things going on the most memorable being a boy at the skate park maybe 12-14 who had a sneezing fit and sneezed out a fork and spoon, one from each nostril. We got back to my house and Grlmm came in for a drink. Merlin greeted us and asked if I could summon her up a mouse.
`` No I ca n't just summon you a mouse Merlin that's impossible.'' I said
She looked at me with her yellow slitted eyes glittering with a faint kitty look of sadness.
`` But... but you're a wizard...''
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[ WP ] Every man has his woes to bear , and this , this is mine ...
| I had one sole objective when I was sent here, but all of this was never supposed to happen. Father sent me back to Earth again so he could once judge if his experiment of creating beings has been worthy over 2000 years later, from his last judgment and the last time I was sent here. I told him it was fine, that none of it hurt and that these creations of his would learn, but I could tell how deeply hurt he was creating such flaws that put me in harm ’ s way and not living anywhere near his standards. I knew that they would grow well into a civilization and prove my father wrong, so that he would not scrape his whole project based on one event. I told him the time would be right for him to judge again and I was once sent back to Earth to see help him judge these creations of my father; on the condition that I can not show the powers and brilliance that I once let slip the last time I was here.
I opened my eyes embracing the arrival I had on Earth. This time I was born to an impure woman that had no care in raising her child. Though I still had to go through the processes of growing up as one of his creations, I was well aware of my surroundings and had to play along under my father ’ s condition for me coming here. I was given the name Jack this time around and grew up in a very poor area. I could not use any of my abilities to help improve this area, only basic communications and capabilities that were in a human ’ s threshold. I was growing up next one of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, to the point I could not tell if father had sent down another angel to be with me or not.
But as I grew up with her, I could not do anything to protect her. She was abused in many different forms by her own family and the local community. The abuse ranged from sexual to psychological. I tried my best to be there for her, but I knew I was helpless without any of my abilities; so all I could do was watch this woman I believed to be an angel be tormented for many years. I tried to console her and be there for her, but she didn ’ t need me. Even going through such hell on this Earth, she kept the greatest spirit about things. At least she was able to keep a great spirit, until she could not any longer. I developed a great care for this woman, that I knew was taboo and not meant for me to do. This was not part of father ’ s plans.
Twenty years has passed by since my father has put me here and my ability to keep his creations in his good graces are slipping. What pushed me over the edge to stop caring about his creations in general occurred not too long ago. I was walking my angel back to her house when, gunshots went off. We hid behind a trash can until everything was clear. When we finally arose, a group of four men equipped with guns and dressed in a camouflage suit beat me senseless and raped her right in front of me. Though I was fine, I could not move a single bone due to this human body. I watched as they ravaged her body to a point where her soul was not in her eyes anymore. From then I knew she was gone. I had all these power I could have used, yet due to my father ’ s wishes, I could not do a single thing for her. I thought nothing could get worst then the last time I was put on this planet.
Furious and woeful, I trekked home after asking my father. I was furious and the judgment I gave among his creations is not a good one. Things he has seen across his world he put into existence also made him furious. Though I know some of them have the capability to grow this world into a good one, my sorrows and woes took the best of me. I hope father is not too harsh on them, but helps discipline and guide them. Everything is out of my hands now, may god have mercy on their souls.
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[ WP ] You 're the son of God , but you 're not the Messiah or anything . The big guy just wanted some side action a few years back .
| You would think being the son of God would be awesome. You'd have incredible powers, millions of followers. People everywhere hanging on to your every word and watching your every move. Turns out you're right. Just not when you're the second son.
I know growing up I thought all of that. As I sat at home alone at what ( looking back ) was an alarmingly young age even for a demigod. I dreamt of walking on water and curing diseases. Of inspiring people to greatness and smiting my father's enemies.
Turns out I was n't THAT son of God. Turns out when your dad goes on an extended boozer and hooks up with a cheap stripper named Jenny-Lynn ( my ever dissapointing mother ) you get the traits that go hand in hand with said tryst.
Jesus' mom was - literally - a saint. And so righteousness and purity were bred into his DNA. My mom, for lack of a better term, is n't. And so it was n't until I started drinking with my friends in the bathroom behind the art class in middle school that my `` gifts'' started to shine through. Turns out my powers only matured when it was time to party.
Sure I can turn water to wine. Apparently that party trick works both ways. But I can also turn a normal led light into a strobe effect disco light with a glance. I can turn a shitty laptop and a Bluetooth speaker into a full dj table ( admittedly so can every other `` DJ'' but my shit is LEGIT. ) I can pick up any dance step and look like a natural. I I'm am an absolutely godlike party-animal. I can wade onto a dance floor littered with spilled drinks walking on pools of alcohol and vomit like my brother walks on water. Moses could part the sea I can walk to the bar without being touched. I walk out of the bar at lights up looking as good or better than I walked in.
Every family has one success story, and I'm the other kid. You need a great wingman? I WILL get you laid. Beer pong? I'm the ten year tri-city undefeated champ. Turn on a karaoke machine at a work function and I'll have that stuck up bitch from accounting absolutely belting out `` Livin la vida loca'' within a half hour.
If you want to save your soul. Call my brother. But if you want to save your party. Call me.
Jeremy Christ. God of partying
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[ WP ] You are an assassin with a unique way of killing silently .
| Stick and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me. People say this all the time, but I think words can hurt people. I know, because it ’ s my job to kill people with my words. Words can be deceitful, hurtful, persuasive; words can work the wills of man.
“ Hey man, got any cash? ”
“ Well of course, musicians make big bucks don ’ t you know. ”
Some kid outside a seven eleven was begging.
“ Here, take a twenty! ”
I juggled the empty violin case in my hands as I attempted to reach for my wallet.
I come here in the afternoon sometimes to buy myself a hustler and a classical magazine. The boy out front always asks for change. He and his buddies run their own little operation. When someone hands them change, they usually take out their wallets. If the guy is packing a thick one, they ’ ll jump him a block down and take everything he has. I ’ ve seen them pull knives on people but they haven ’ t gotten caught yet. I always give the kid out front twenty or even thirty dollars and lecture him on how rich musicians are before hoping in my car and driving off. I ’ ve been doing this for three weeks or so.
“ Wow, thanks mister. That ’ s enough for three straight meals today. ”
“ Sure. ”
Riding along Groot Street, cars pass a bus left and right. Shades twist and turn with the bus. A man sitting in a window seat at the back is constantly shifting his paper back and forth to combat the glare. His scarf is popping out of his duffle coat and catching the rain water that drips from his brown hair slick hair. He is reading sheet music with a violin case between his feet.
Leaning over from behind the seat, “ I loved your Bach Chaconne piece. The vibrato mid-way was so powerful, it nearly knocked me out of my chair. ”
He turns his head to the side, “ Thanks man. It took a lot work to get it down, my fingers were bleeding. ”
He looked at the cover of the magazine.
“ Man, did you read the founder of Chandos Records died. ”
He couldn ’ t see the hustler inside. Who cares about Chandos Records?
“ That was an amazing performance given how young you are. ”
“ Well, I work hard and I play hard. ”
He turned back toward his sheet music.
“ Some are just born lucky I guess. ”
Head half turned.
“ I played four hours every day for 3 months to get that piece down. ”
“ And there are people who pay to go to school for music and put in six hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year not even half as good as you. It ’ s in your blood. ”
“ Having parents that can play doesn ’ t make someone inherently better. “
“ But it certainly makes it easier. ”
“ Ok buddy. You know what, I ’ m not engaging you. ”
“ That violin was old. A family heirloom perhaps? ”
He turned back toward his sheet music.
“ It ’ s not a bad thing to have natural talent. You can reach new heights never thought possible, am I right? The average Joe could put in twice the time you do and never catch up. ”
He put in his headphones but no one spoke another word. That was enough.
His parents, Roland and Talim Lamos, are renowned as astounding violinists. His love of the violin is his own, but his fame is his parents ’. While expected to be a protégée, his hard work is often undermined by his lineage. The identities and accomplishments of people born and buried by an expectation of greatness are often devalued and unappreciated. And even though he often doubts whether he is worthy of his own success, he still carries around the violin of his great-great-grandfather; a symbol of all the hard work and effort that forged the musician that he is today. At least, that ’ s how he see ’ s things. If you ask me, it ’ s all one big sob story.
Watching this man for months, he always bought cigarettes from same seven eleven four blocks down from his shitty apartment building. He ’ d stopped going a couple months ago. When he started practicing in the afternoon, he got his cigarettes from a Chinese convenience store on his way to work in the morning. Today was the day of his big performance at Julliard. He didn ’ t actually go to school there, but often performed at events.
Now stressed out by a mild confrontation on the bus he will go buy some cigarettes once he gets off with his violin case in his hand. He will leave that seven eleven with some cigarettes and get jumped in an alley by a bunch of little shits.
The moment he refused to give them that violin, they killed him.
This is just one instance where my words ( and a little cash ) were enough to kill a man. It can take a couple tries, but if you step up the cards right eventually things will play out the way you want them too. One little transaction of crypto currency across some deep-web site is all it takes to get rid of someone.
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[ WP ] - The New Cost Of Living
| We were meant to live for so much more. The bigger they got, the more they could lean on us. A monopoly on life, sold to the highest ambition. They aimed for the skies, but no higher; and we learned that the day romance finally died was when they showed us the true meaning of the phrase `` take your breath away.'' The business of air oxygen fed clout, and the clout feeds us oxygen. We grow poor paying to live. And with each breath those trapped in our capitalistic cycle of abuse go down, down, down.
As a teen, I had to drop out of high school to help pay the bills. I was the top of my class, perfect GPA, perfect attendance, and I would have been able to get into any university I wanted. But then dad got sick. His health insurance did n't cover air, so he was stuck with no income and he still had to pay the $ 20 daily oxygen tax. My mom worked at a restaurant, just a minimum wage table waitress. If she was lucky, she'd take home some tips; but, since the air tax not many people tipped any more. Imagine, if you were working day-to-day just to breath, why would you ever give away money to a food-runner? In a more literal sense than ever, money equalled survival, so a tip was like giving away hours off your life.
So I worked in a steel mill to pay the bills. I was young, so they did n't pay me much. We needed the money though. They paid me under the table for the first few weeks, they did n't want my air-tax to go up. Blue-collar workers, crass behaviour, but too much heart to be a white-collar glutton.
Pretty soon though, they caught on that I was working, and they raised me to the adult rate anyway. $ 20 a day to breath. I passed the time at work by figuring out in my head how to budget my earnings.
I got paid $ 90 a day, for a 12 hour shift, and that was six days a week, so that's $ 540 a week. After dads and my air and my little sister Abby's air we still had $ 225 for bills. ( Abby was an unemployed minor, so her air only cost $ 5 a day. Thank goodness for that, the only real bone the air company gave us commoners. ) So with that I was able to help mom with food and rent and utilities.
It was n't the best life, but I found little pleasures. I would make frugality a game. If I resisted spending $ 2.25 on a can of soda for lunch, I internally celebrated. If I bought regular ground beef at $ 11/lb vs the lean at $ 16/lb I considered it a win. Our health suffered a bit, maybe, because I did n't buy the highest quality of necessities, but I figured that saving money was the only way I could make it back to graduate high school, get a white collar job, move mom and dad out of our rundown home, get Abby into a nice school, buy a bus pass... Oh sorry, sometimes I let my daydreams get a little carried away. But yeah, I thought it was just a temporary thing. At that point I did, anyway.
It was n't even that uncommon, really. Most of us at the mill were high school drop-outs. It was just too hard to live through high school in that economy without two parents working full time. The good thing about Dad being home was that Abby had somebody to raise her. When I was her age, after school I came home, mom had a snack in the fridge for me, and her and dad usually came home around 8. I always had a great imagination, so I was never *that* bored, but other kids I knew were in the same situation and they wound up falling into bad company. I ca n't say I blame them, street gangs were like your family. Mom and dad were out providing air, food and shelter, nobody was at home providing love and stimulation. And the street gangs looked after their own. Death benefits I mean. You die in a gang, and ca n't be an earner anymore they pay for you and your family to breath. No questions asked...
But that was n't me. I was making an honest way. I was working at the mill until I could go back and finish high school. By 26, I was probably the oldest `` temporary worker'' they had still. Ha ha. Most of those other guys gave up on that before then. It became clear that my time at the mill was ending about then, when I was 26. I said it was okay, that I would just go back to school. The guys ribbed me about underaged high school girls, not realizing that you do n't actually take classes with them, and not addressing that I was already married.
I had a family of my own, and I did n't want them to have a childhood like me. I was smart, I could have been anything, but I had to give that up to support my family. I met my girlfriend when I was 22 and she got pregnant about a year later. Dad passed just before our daughter was born. I was pretty broken up about it, but I ca n't say the extra money was n't helpful. With Abby and I gone, and dad gone, mom could fend for herself. And I needed to save some money to support my pregnant girlfriends oxygen, and of course to pay for all the new baby things.
Our daughter is named after my dad, Georgia. I see so much potential in her. For her 3rd birthday, her mother sewed her a doll and baked her a cake. I could n't afford anything, so I crafted a doll house out of steel from the mill. I tried doing it in secret, because I would get in some trouble if I got caught stealing hours and material from them... I guess I was n't careful enough.
I do n't know how they knew it was me, but when they found out about my littler birthday present, and I got it more than just a bit of trouble... I got fired. They let me finish out the day. I figured the severance pay would be alright though, and with that I could finish high school finally.
They told me I would get one years salary for severance, it was in our unions agreement, one of the right things they managed to do for us. After a week of paying for air with our security savings I was worried, as I saw only a few days of oxygen left for us. On a Wednesday, I got a letter, that explained the situation.
`` Under section 3.2ii of the steel-workers/management collective agreement, we regret to inform you that wrongful dismissal does *not* in fact grant a severance package for the terminated employee.''
I collapsed. That was it. I needed to get a job or me, my wife, and my daughter would n't make it through the weekend! I awoke to see my wife reading the letter in horror. She could n't even talk to me. She sat in the corner and cried. I said, I would sell some things over the weekend. I told her everything was going to be fine. I did n't truly believe the words myself.
After a time, she finally spoke to me. `` Watch Georgia, I'm going out.''
`` Going out?'' I questioned to myself. What the fuck? She left before I could figure the situation out.
Georgia and I played with her doll, she pretended that she was the queen and the doll, Bethanie, was the princess who lived in the dollhouse. I laughed and played with my daughter on the outside, but on the inside I burned and seethed, and anxiously awaited my wife.
Georgia went down by 8pm, and I sat in the living room until 11:00, waiting for my wife. By 1:30 I had dug a hole into the carpet from pacing. She came back about the time. She was n't alone.
A tall, well-built man was with her, and she told me we had to talk. I already knew what it was about.
The first guy she finds. The first one. She told me he had a job. He could keep Georgia and her alive. What the fuck. In one week got my infant daughter a gift, and it tore my fucking life a part.
I could n't say much in response. I knew I had to figure out a way to make it through the weekend, myself. So I left, and frantically looked for some way to earn another day of oxygen. But in this economy...
So now I'm sitting here. In a park bench. I figured I needed a peaceful place to go. When the clock hits midnight my account will be in default, and the air company will remotely shut off the part of the cerbellum responsible for commanding my lungs to contract. 11:58.
I wanted to fix everything. I wanted to learn how to fix everything. In a different time, and a different place, I wonder how great I could be. I was loving, I was an honour student, I was talented! And soon I would be like so many others. Dying in the streets of a neo-capitalist world.
11:59. My last breaths on Earth. I decided to make them audible. I thought of all the things in my life. My mom, my dad, my sister, my wife, my daughter... My daughter doomed to suffer the same as me. The capitalistic cycle of abuse. I thought of her and said the only words that I could think of. The words running through my head this entire story,
`` We were meant to live for so much more.''
12:00
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**This is n't really super good. I'm really not in the right frame of mind to write right now. I was going to delete it, but I figured maybe you could find some ideas in it for your story. Cheers. **
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[ WP ] Death at a science fiction wedding .
| `` Sir, it is time.''
`` Oh, please. this is my daughters wedding. Let me have the dance, at least.''
`` Extra time will cost you.''
`` Sure, whatever. Put it on my tab.''
The father stands up and smiles at the bride. The bride gives her groom an apologetic kiss, and walks to her father. The DJ changes from the fast dubs to a more traditional beat. The daughter moves into the father's embrace, they start moving slowly to the beat.
`` You look beautiful, dear.''
`` Shut up dad. You say that every day.'' But she clung closer.
They danced quietly for a few moments.
`` Is that...?''
`` Yes, the Archival and Recycling henchman.''
`` Do they always have to dress so dramatically?''
`` Maybe they are bringing the black cowl and cape back in style.'' The father joked.
`` Dad...''
`` Shush. It's not like I will be gone forever.''
`` But you will only be in the computer core, just electrons and CPU cycles...''
`` That will not make me any less real.''
`` But I will never hug you again!''
The clung and moved a few moments more. The man in black robe made an impatient gesture.
`` I have to go. I love you kiddo.''
While walking away, the father turned back one last time. `` Add me to your friends list, will you?''
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[ WP ] Two combatants mortally injure each other . They realize they will both be dead in minutes . Write their last conversation .
| Private Thompson was a delicate thing, his skin was pale, he had a small stature and his face was dotted with freckles, but something snapped inside of him during the invasion. He turned into something else, a hero some might call him, to others, a monster. To me, he will always be Tommy.
And I think something snapped inside me too during our first operation, the look in Tommy's eyes were cold; his face dirty with gunpowder and the crimson blood of friend and foe. You see the aliens are n't some strange thing you would find out of movies, they looked just like us but with bright red skin and sharper teeth; they were a furious tribe of warriors that destroyed everything that could possibly defend itself, and those that could n't? They were raped, tortured and then eaten, and if you were lucky, in that order. I think the speech made Tommy's blood run cold, but not anymore.
The very last time I saw Tommy was in a deserted shopping mall. His platoon were ambushed while on a scouting operation, there were no survivors. There were bodies scattered all over the place, human and alien alike, and Tommy was sat down, propped up against a wall with his left leg ripped off his tiny body, poor Tommy, I miss you buddy. But there was something strange about how he died, he sat alone, and fell to his side, like he was being propped up on something, and Tommy's face covered in blood, the battle must have been a blood bath.
I was n't there, sad to say, Tommy and I knew each other from school and he was always bullied by people bigger than him -but not as big as the aliens-, I tried to defend him, tried to keep him safe but it just got us both beaten up pretty bad, friends do that. So we were pretty excited when we got into the same platoon, albeit just for a while. I transferred out fairly soon, I was too smart to be kept inside a unit, getting to General was a cinch, staying there; sending all those soldiers to their graves was the hardest part.
I never told anyone this but his death was my fault. Every time there was a commendation for Tommy, and there was a lot, I would turn it down. I kept Tommy at Privateer, I sent him to that simple scouting mission, I just wanted Tommy safe; he was a brother to me, and I did it all to keep him out of trouble.
It was another commendation for Tommy, but it was after he died, it was a requesting a medal of honor. The report came with several pictures of the rundown mall, and a picture of Tommy in his resting place; could n't look at it for too long. Strangely enough, there was a tape included, there were cameras documenting his final moments, now I had to see this.
The tape begins right after Tommy lost his leg, it was blown up by a landmine. Tommy crawled up to a dying invader, his missing limb left a trail of blood and sinew; at the time I was hoping Tommy just needed support and was n't looking company for his death. He propped himself up next to the invader ( who looked very high ranking form his armour ). There was silence for the first minute, with the two mortally wounded combatants groaning in pain. And then the most extraordinary thing happened.
`` I am Chief of my clan, the highest rank of my kin, what is yours fellow soldier. You fight well.'' The invader spoke, taking off his heavy helmet to reveal his face, which was bright red and his sharp teeth stuck out of his mouth, he would look 50, if he was human.
`` I am a Private, Recruit,'' Tommy said quietly, clutching his missing foot.
`` Why do you lie to me, young one, you have fought better than many of my kin and you have killed my kind twice over.''
Tommy shifted uncomfortably, I was n't sure whether it was because of what Chief said or his missing leg.
`` When I was younger I was beaten up a lot, by people older and bigger than me.''
`` Much bigger than us no doubt! Or did you obliterate them as well.''
`` No, I did n't fight back, and they were smaller than you. I was scared.''
`` So how did you not die, young one?''
`` I had a friend, he got beaten up with me,''
I bit my fist, he does n't know I sent him to his death.
`` Your kind is strange.'' And the invader looked like he was thinking. `` Young one, do you know why our skin is red, it is so our foes can not see our blood, we show no fear.''
And Tommy was starting to cry, he sniffled but the Chief looked unshaken.
`` Are you afraid, young one?''
`` I do n't want to die,'' Tommy spluttered, rubbing his eyes, he looked like the days we had just been beaten up and he was too scared to go home.
The Chief moved his hand -which was trice the size of Tommy's- and squeezed Tommy's severed thigh, blood and sinew split out and Tommy screamed for life. The Chief covered his hand with the blood on the floor, and smeared it over Tommy's face.
`` Do not be afraid, we are blood brothers and it is a great honor to die next to you.''
Tommy, who looked like he was on his final lap, grabbed the Chief's huge bloody hand and repeated, `` It is an honor.''
And the two gave up their final breath.
The video goes on after some time after this and some invaders came into frame, they took away the Chief's body. But just before they left, the strange invaders looked at Tommy's bloody corpse and bowed before quickly leaving.
I miss you, Buddy.
**EDIT**: Format
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[ EU ] Rather then trekking all the way to Mordor , the Fellowship decides to seal the One Ring in a block of lead and steel and surrounded by the most powerful wards men and elves can cast . It is discovered centuries later .
| A commotion arose in the construction site.
`` Hey, Hernandez, call Rocco over, I found something,'' Frank said. He squinted his eyes as he looked at the block of metal.
Hernandez rushes back with their foreman, Rocco, along with two other men. Rocco inspects the block.
`` What is that thing?'' Rocco asked.
`` Well, it ai n't a septic tank, I can tell you that much. Thing's perfect, boss. It's a perfect cube.'' Hernandez said.
The object was about two cubic feet, sharp edges and a slight gloss that cast a glimmer against the bright, midday sun. Frank knocked on it with his closed fist. It made a tinny sound, but there was a hollow undertone.
`` It sounds like it's hollow. Maybe it's a safe and the door's on the bottom. Let's dig it out,'' Frank said.
Rocco motioned for the two men next to him to get to work. Frank continued dusting off the dirt around the edges of the block, while Hernandez took photos of it with his mobile phone. The two men returned with shovels, and they dug around the object until it was entirely out of the ground. It only took them a few minutes. They gave Rocco a look, and Rocco nodded his head. The men tried to pick the block up, but it was too heavy.
`` Hernandez, Frank, help them out,'' Rocco said.
With the combined strength of four burly construction workers, the object was slowly extracted from the earth and placed on the ground beneath the hole, next to the excavator they could've simply used.
`` There ai n't no door, it ai n't a safe,'' Hernandez said.
`` Yeah, well, it's hollow,'' Frank said.
`` I heard somethin' jingle in there while we was movin' it,'' one of the other men said.
`` Yeah, like a rock or somethin','' another man said.
By this point, others in the construction site gathered around. There were nine men, with more being drawn to the scene.
`` Why would anybody put a rock in there?'' Frank asked.
The man shrugged.
`` Let's just break it open then. Hernandez, get the jack.'' Rocco said.
Hernandez rushed off to retrieve the jackhammer. Men in the crowd found themselves staring at the block in awe. Some even touched the block, just to touch it. Men murmured about what could be in there, while others wondered if there's even anything in there at all. Once Hernandez returned with one of the smaller, electrical jackhammers, one of the bigger men grabbed it and immediately started it up. The moment the tip touched the block, it shorted out and knocked the man back a few feet. A hazy, staticky electrical field diminished around the block.
All of the men stepped back. A couple of them checked the man who was knocked back, and he seemed fine. The man, however, angrily stood up and stormed off.
`` The jackhammer's busted,'' Hernandez said, `` wo n't even turn on anymore.''
The large man returned with a bigger, hydraulic jackhammer. It was twice the size of the other one, and made this giant of a man look like a child on a pogo stick. He fired it up, and rammed it directly onto one of the top corners of the block. It began to slowly give away. The man kept at this, chipping off piece by piece, until it finally reached the hollow point. Rocco and the other men waved their arms and the man stopped the jackhammer.
All of the men inched forward, mesmerized by what they saw. It was a small chunk of gold, shining in the sun. No one spoke.
As Rocco leaned in closer, he noticed something.
`` It's a ring,'' he said, `` a gold ring. It's got some writing on it. Looks like Hebrew or something.''
`` It's so nice,'' a man said.
`` The gold, it's pretty,'' Frank said.
`` I like it, it's... beautiful,'' another man said.
`` No,'' Rocco said, as he began to try the ring out on his finger. `` It's preci --''
Rocco disappeared.
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[ WP ] If you could speak with your `` muse '' or your `` inspiration '' as personified figure or person , what would he or she say to you ?
| My muse is usually silent, choosing to lurk in the corner of my eye or around the bend. He watches me from the bottom of the stairs as I climb up to bed. Even when I hide under my sheets, I can feel his gaze through the covers. Often, I wish I could ditch him, but the stupid thing picked me as his voice when I was just a kid and I've been stuck with it ever since. Despite growing up together and being nearly inseparable partners, we rarely get along; some people may struggle to find their muse at times, but I ca n't even get a break from mine. And believe me, I'd do *anything* for a break.
When I'm having a hard, or a good time, my muse is there, that big smile tearing across his face, and I'm immediately burdened with some new idea. Like a song that gets stuck in your head, my muse's thoughts conquer all of mine until I can put those ideas to use.
At first, it was hard to figure out what to do with all those thoughts, and I was left overwhelmed. In what medium do I release these concepts? My muse demanded blood, but that started to get problematic pretty quickly. I tried drawing for him, but that only angered him more. Apparently I could n't portray what he wanted in a way that suited him. In short, he hates my drawings.
Eventually, we compromised with writing. He was n't happy with our arrangement at first, but lately it almost seems like he *enjoys* my writing, and over all, I feel like my skills have improved. We'll stay up all night to get his ideas on paper ( or, more often, on screen ) before he finally falls asleep and I can finally rest.
If I dare try to ignore my muse, he gets angry. If I wo n't give him words, he will go for blood. Hell, he's attacked me before ( in broad daylight, too! ), and I know he will again. But I do n't think he'd actually *kill me*. After all, who else will speak for him? I know I may share my muse with others, but... well, let's be honest; he's intimidating. Most others jump to kill him when he appears to them, and some even succeed with keeping him away, for the most part.
I, unfortunately, do n't have the resources to keep him at bay, so I'm stuck keeping him happy. He messes with all aspects of my life, but hey, he does what it should as a muse. I've not shared a lot of what he's shared with me, as much as I want to. Those things are... intimate. Like a secret between my muse and myself. He does n't expect me to publish anything, or get any prizes. Actually, he prefers I do n't. I think he's nervous about the way I take his ideas and twist them around, like others will read and not understand what he meant. Really, he just wants me to listen.
It only takes a look from my muse to know what he is thinking, so we usually have no need for words. The only time he really speaks is when I try to share our secrets.
`` That's no good, do n't bother sharing.''
`` People are going to hate this. Ca n't we just keep this between ourselves?''
I usually listen, but every now and then I ca n't help but to share what I've created. Sure, he may protest, but do n't I have the right, what with all the work I do?
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[ WP ] A group of astronauts are observing Earth when they notice a large , undiscovered land mass in the Pacific Ocean .
| “ it sure is pretty up here, isn ’ t it? ”
I drifted slowly across the empty rooms in the international space station, talking to another astronaut; Dr. David Slettevold.
“ I mean, it ’ s pretty boring. The only cool thing is doing perpetual summersaults in the middle of the room. ”
“ Nah, man. Look out the window. Look at it. It ’ s just a big blue marble. A small dot in the vast empty space ”
“ You really shouldn ’ t be that close to the window. Houston is going to lose their shit if they have to send another window to replace it. ”
Across the way, the Russian astronauts where packing up their things before they headed home. They ’ ve been up here for a long time – a little less than a year. One of them lost their wife. The other has to take physical therapy because he lost much of his muscle mass; no way can he walk around with those skin-and-bone proportions.
“ Someone get that kid a sandwich ” David said, looking through the mesh door.
I took a deep breath and drifted toward the window, looking straight down at the ocean floor. We were positioned right above the northern Pacific Ocean. That ’ s when I saw it.
“ Huh. That ’ s off. ”
“ What is? ” David asked looking away from his suitcase, small bottle of shampoo slowly drifting toward the computer screen.
“ I ’ m looking out there, and it looks like there ’ s a small island cropping up near the east coast of japan… ” I said, drifting my words off to a small mumble. I fiddled around with my many pockets on the bright orange jumpsuit. I pulled out the small Nokia phone out of the breast pocket and pulled up a map of the pacific. Clearly, the GPS tracking was lost, convinced that I was in Finland.
I zoomed in near the small brownish dot that I saw outside. At this point David was intrigued at what I was looking at.
“ I don ’ t see it on the map ” I whispered.
“ wha? ” David asked, snatching my phone from me.
“ It ’ s not there, David ”
“ That ’ s impossible, this is a satellite image! ”
David just squinted at me, his glasses as standing proof of the time he spends at a computer screen. Printing and drawing up 3d objects is hard, but it ’ s even harder if you are slowly being lifted upwards away from the keyboard.
“ I ’ m going to call ground. Ask them what this is. ” He said in what I can only assume was his ‘ authoritative ’ voice.
“ I ’ m not a kid, David. You don ’ t need to play parent with me. ”
I went and asked the Russians if they had a pair of binoculars or something that I could use. One of them had a rangefinder with a zoom on it. The bolded steel l Slavic writing made me feel somehow less patriotic. Nevertheless, I zoomed in on the island. After about 15 minutes of “ what ” s and “ how is that- ok. ” s, David returned to the window with me and nabbed my range finders.
“ It just looks like a brownish-white platform. Nothing really ”
“ Oh it ’ s something. Something very scary, Felix. Let ’ s just be glad that we get to see humanity ’ s final – “
The light flare cut David off. The Russians across the way where thrown into a panic. All at once, the coasts started to disappear. Entire centuries of work, torn down as the continents silently sunk. No loud bang, no screaming. Just silence. When all that remained where the tallest mountains, the island that showed out of nowhere sunk too.
“ I don ’ t think that we ’ ve got enough food up here, David. David? ” I turned around, no one was there. The Russians began shouting, clearly distressed. I swam toward the shouting.
Oh god. The airlock!
I rounded the corner, seeing the two older astronauts attempting to hold David back. They were clearly fighting a losing battle, their bodies where simply too weak to do anything but get in David ’ s way.
“ David, no! don- “
The Oxygen left the station. The vacuum of air tearing me out into the void then- nothing. Silence.
Hey, that ’ s it, but thanks for reading! This is my first submission, I hope you enjoyed!
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[ WP ] Darkness is a physical presence . Touching it is deadly . Humanity lives only in brightly lit cities , connected with brightly lit roads . Your job is to patrol the roads an ensure all the lights are working .
| `` Humanity, always, only occupied a small spot on this planet. That one spot that sunlight reached, everything surrounding it, was nothing but darkness. In the early days of humanity man already found out, that venturing out is impossible, everyone who ever tried died, just by coming in touch with the darkness. Ressourced were scarce and mankind always had to keep tight controll over its population, it was something one could easily compare to hell. But one day humans discovered it, fire. They saw that the darkness cleared up a little, everytime fire was around. Humans were send out into the unknown enviroment and many died. Rain and storms, nature was mankinds enemy this time. One would say it would have been wiser to stop, but mankinds curiosity didnt seem to allow that. Even though success was slim, it was there. A few times humans would return and would talk about the amazing things they saw. Gigantic and breathtakings amount of trees and overflowing water, wider than the eye could see. While there were some people that didnt believe, many did. `` Hope'', is this what you could call it? Hope to finally escape the cage, that humanity was put into. Over the time Mankind invented new technologies, it put most of its time in finding a way to clear up the darkness and they succeeded. Electricity, mankind was able to produce it and finally they could venture out into the darkness without any real limitations. ``
I took a deep breath
`` At leasts thats what they told us at school.''
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[ WP ] You got really drunk last night and now you have your own book published on Amazon .
| Groggy and sore, Amir stared blankly at the ghostly, red numbers illuminating the remaining cracked lens of his glasses which rested upon his face - 4:37.
Amir twisted in attempt to roll over, his right side numb from having not moved since unwillingly falling into what felt like the deepest sleep of his adult life six hours prior. `` Never.. drinking.. again..'' Amir slurred as his left side adopted the burden of supporting his aching, dehydrated body against the mattress.
Struggling to recall even the slightest memory of the previous evening, Amir stared blankly into the dark room in front of him - a consistent blue flash was all that populated his vision aside from the diagonal fracture transforming his single glasses lens into an inoperative bifocal. Amir reached for his phone, restless from the hangover.
> `` Amir, it's Steph. I knew you had it in you. I'm just glad they finally gave you a chance. YOU'RE PUBLISHED!''
Amir read the message preview repeatedly. The word *published* stung Amir's pupils, adding another layer of confusion to the void of last night. `` I'm not a writer. Published. Published what?'' Amir murmured, again reading the message he had received from Steph at 4:33 AM. There was a link in the next message. Amir clicked hastily, awaiting an explanation surrounding the confusion of the night which, compiled with Steph's message, only made his head spin faster.
**Best Books of the Month**
The orange title emblazoned on the top of the screen sent Amir's eyes fumbling across the page trying to make the littlest sliver of sense out of the events surrounding the previous ten hours.
Amir froze. His eyes fixated on the screen. Adjusting his mangled glasses, Amir focused once more on the most perplexing sight he had possibly ever seen.
> Featured Debut
> **Timeless**
> by Amir Sweeney
A small portrait accompanied the book's introduction on Amazon.com. Amir was looking himself in the eyes, blinking repeatedly trying to force a sure hallucination to dissipate. However, when the image came back into focus, Amir could still identify the tie he purchased for his company portrait just the day before.
Speechless, Amir pressed the off button on the side of his phone and placed it back on the mattress. Thoughts of confusion and hysteria possessed Amir's mind as he re-positioned himself onto his back. Amir's head slowly collapsed the pillow beneath him as one word controlled his mind among all other thoughts as he drifted back into unconsciousness: *published*.
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[ WP ] Write a story where the reader thinks the protagonist is the villan until the last few sentences .
| `` This is crazy. This is *freaking* crazy! How could a man single handedly destroyed an Air Force base? A *secret* one, on top of that!'' sweat formed on Dean's forehead while he clunched his SCAR carbine. A series of gunshot rang out in the distance.
`` Technically, he was using his both hand.'' Jeff's idiotic remarks did n't exactly help Dean. `` And he was using an outdated M3 gun, go figure. I do n't think we could stand up to him. But the craziest thing about him was he do n't shoot to kill, he just decapacitate them, what a sadistic pervert.'' then a dark figure aproached them both.
Jeff pointed his shotgun towards the aproaching figure, and fired five consecutive shot. But the dark figure just bend slightly, deflecting several shot that managed to stray his way with his own gun.
`` If you had stayed put, none of this should've happened.'' the dark figure raised his right hand, pointing his gun towards Dean. `` But you just have to do that, you have to find out the reason.''
`` You do n't understand, the truth have to be revealed, we have the right to know! The world deserves to know!''
`` I do n't give a f*ck about the world! You brought tragedy upon yourself, I just give you what you deserves! And you! Deserves! Death!'' a dry gunshot rang, and Jeff's arm hung limply. `` Every single one of you. I wo n't spare anyone.''
`` what a pervert. You said all those in bravado, like an ally of justice or something, but you're just a lowlife that enjoys seeing blood splatter.''
`` I know, but I never said I'm the good guy. But that truth that you so desperately seeks out had brought your own demise. If you had something to complain, say that to those who ordered you to find that out.''
`` Cheh, I ca n't die here! I have to reveal the truth, and I'll protect it at all cost!'' Dean fired his rifle, and ran away while avoiding the return fire. `` I'll protect her! No matter what happened, I'll bring the truth out to the world!'' but then he fell in the most comical way: by slipping on a metal bar. `` Shit.'' he rubbed his head.
`` Be grateful that I ca n't kill you with this weapon,'' once again, the dark figure pointed the weapon to Dean `` but they often said that there's fate worse than death.'' another dry gunshot, and he stepped towards the white room, to the girl straped to a chair in the middle of the room.
`` Are you okay?''
`` Yeah! Thank you, brother. I know you would come for me.''
`` Of course. Who do you think I am? I'll come for you, no matter where you are, even if I have to fight the entire world.''
`` I know, after all, we only have each other.'' she smiled, and both of them stepped out of the rubble.
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[ wp ] It turns out there have been hundreds of Anti-Christs but each one defied their father for different reason . Write the story of 3 of them .
| Name: Ludwig
DOB: 1105AD
DOD: N/A
The 247th Anti-Christ, Ludwig was also said to be one of the most manipulative - the fact that it has been confirmed that he is capable of bending minds with a mere sentence and had managed to enslave a town in Germany to his will by the age of seven. He could've easily used this ability to enslave all of Europe if he could.
Not much is known about his rebellion against the Dark One, but he is known to have only actively used his powers on demons sent to force him into Lucifer's bidding and harnessing their powers for either agricultural or charitable means.
At the age of 10, he was sent to be educated in the ways of the Church - this was just a cover story for a group of exorcists to execute him, but he turned each and every one into his own personal warriors and joined the College of Priests by the age of 12. He had become at first a Priest then bishop, Archbishop of Germany before joining the Papal Enclave.
He was one of the youngest Pope elected, adopting the name of Luke, at the age of 20 but is known to have'died' at the oldest age of 158. This, plus the fact that fields that he had'blessed' would have a bountiful prosper was seen as a miracle by many, and he was appointed the Saint of the Harvest two years after his reported death.
In truth, Ludwig is still alive and works as a missionary in Africa, using his demon army to help protect the crops from locusts and also to ensure that crops grow enough food for people to eat.
Name:'Adam'
DOB: 1405AD
DOD: 1420, 1535, 1660, 1999
The 324th Anti-Christ, Adam is believed to be one of the strongest - the fact that he stood 12ft tall by the age of 15 and typically crushed other warriors on the battlefield under his heel due to being too focused on destroying castle walls or worthy opponents was a disturbingly common description in his early days and he grew more powerful with each soul he killed and devoured and also by how war evolves, growing stronger based on the improvements in fighting.
Adam's real name is unknown - the fact that his mother died in child-birth and his mortal father, a local siege lord, refused to accept him for being weak meant that he was never baptized - Adam was the name he took to show how he was great enough to steal the name of Humanity's progenitor. He was eventually taken in by a mercenary company and trained in all manners of weapons fighting.
When the Devil sent a servant to recruit him at the age of 9 with the chance to exact revenge against his father, holding his fellow mercenaries hostage, Adam chose to kill the demon and consume its power - and his knowledge. With his new powers known from killing the demon, he set out to train, to hunt down and slay his father and all the men below him. By the age of 15, he had been the mercenary's most dangerous fighter and assassin, as well as their chief tactician.
At the age of 15, he single-handedly stormed his father's castle, murdering man, woman and child before making his way to his father's throne room and battling him to the death - while Adam was initially decapitated he was able to tear his father to shreds with his bare hands while his head began to grow back. While he would continue to lead the mercenaries after his adopted father's death, he quickly became known as the Beast of the Battlefield, a 30ft giant who would hunt for worthy foes and sell his services to smaller kingdoms for the sole purpose of fighting larger armies. He did this by himself - he had devoured the other mercenaries on his 18th birthday.
He would die two more times - once by eating the king of Switzerland and his horse after both were covered in poison and another by taking a cannon shot to the chest. Had it not been for Ludwig showing him a portal to Hell Adam would've wiped out the entirety of Eurasia by 1790.
He fought the forces of hell with the intent of overthrowing and devouring his father and, after consuming all of Lucifer's most powerful servants, believing that he could overpower Lucifer in the 1960s. He was no match for Lucifer and has spent the next 30 years being stripped of each soul he had consumed. His soul was devoured by Dark One on the day before the Millennium.
Name: Arthur Pendragon
DOB: 509AD
DOD: N/A
The first Anti-Christ and the only half-demon to openly reveal his power, Arthur was a half-demon who, along with the aid of a demon vassal named Merlin and 12 human knights he bestowed great powers to, held the throne of Camelot in modern-day England.
Born a peasant, Arthur was distrusted due to his demonic appearance. He was born with red skin, ebony eyes, wings, a pair of snakes for tails as well as claws and fangs. None could kill him, however. When Merlin tried to lead the young boy down the road of darkness, Arthur instead claimed Merlin's soul as his own and gave him a choice - serve me or die. Within a year, Arthur had learnt all of Merlin's spells and the ways of magic and the arcane, eventually using his knowledge to learn how to forge Excalibur, a sword that could destroy anything it cut, and True Aigis, a shining bright, golden armor that none could damage but only he could wear.
Uther Pendragon used his own magic and the Will of God to seal a sword into a statue and gave a challenge -'Any who retrieve the sword from this stone will be my heir and the King of England. Only those worthy in the eyes of God would be able to retrieve this holy relic.' Arthur was intrigued so he, along with Merlin, traveled to Uther's castle where hundreds of men trying to pull upon the sword. After they all gave up, Arthur removed his helmet and showing the crowd and king his face before grabbing the sword and pulling it out with all his strength. To everyone's surprise - even his own - a beam of light then shone down upon him, confirming that even God, who he believed forsake him due to his heritage, had chosen him to be heir of Camelot. While not all were pleased, he then proved himself a powerful sorcerer by bringing a forest to life within a dead field. He would place his helmet upon his head, and that was the last day that any saw Arthur's true face.
Not all accepted him, least of all Michael, the largest and most powerful Archangel and leader of His armies. He descended to Earth with the intention of killing the spawn of Lucifer. He stood 30ft tall and could destroy the castle with a single swing of his sword. Before God could strip him of his divine powers, Arthur had managed to slay the Angel and had accidentally consumed his soul. That started an effect that no-one expected.
Arthur, over the next 200 years, grew more powerful due to the Dark Seed of Lucifer inside of him as well as Michael's soul of pure light. By the time he abdicated to a mortal Stewart he could n't personally enter his castle due to his height of 100ft, being of strength to tear the earth's crust upward with nary an effort and capable of reshaping the world with a thought. With the concern of his citizens in mind, he lifted the entirety of Britain out of the ground and placed himself in suspended animation in the planet's magnetic core, using the intense gravitational force at the centre of the planet to refine his continually growing power until a time when he could safely walk along the earth without placing mortals in harms way. He is n't necessarily asleep, and powerful leaders have all stated in private that Arthur has been giving them advice within their sleep. In one incident, he had cast a spell to firebomb the Germans after learning of his younger brother Adolph's involvement in the Holocaust.
While he inherited the name of his predecessor, he was also commonly referred to as Dragonbwydo, Welsh for Dragon Feeder - he tore rifts to hell and would consume a dragon, the pets of Lucifer himself, every day in defiance of his father. While he was a Christian and he commonly prayed to God, he refused the Vatican's demands of allowing the Catholic Church to operate within his kingdom stating their oppression of the masses in God's name and served as the head of the Church of England. The chief religion of England, and by extension early colonial America is now known as the Church of Arthur, promoting how God will forgive any who do not break the Commandments.
While his true power is n't know, it is outright confirmed that he is the most powerful of all the Anti-Christs. He regularly changes the entire sky's color on a whim and causing earthquakes in impossible locations. Due to the ease of his killing a dragon every day compared to Adam who struggled each time no matter how many he consumed, it is thought that he could trump his younger brother in strength alone.
Arthur will wake one day, and due to the prophecies spouted by our seers he will be strong enough to destroy Lucifer. Whether he will live or die is unknown but our consultants have no data to predict the outcome.
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[ WP ] An otherwise well-adjusted person grows up in society confusing the word `` Asian '' with `` Assassin '' .
| I've never understood my mom. Why the hell does she want me to learn math, learn the piano, go to university, `` like a good asian boy'', she would tell me. I ca n't live like this. I know they are all so happy being asian. My dad is always quite, and approachable, my mom can never stop smiling. How they can go on living like this is beyond me. Especially mom. I do n't understand how she could ever be happy knowing what my dad's profession is. How can dad even live like that. I try not to let people know I'm asian, but no matter how hard my parents or ( mostly ) I try, people can always tell we're asians, even though we my parents do n't even look different from anyone else. It seems that it's no secret, and that everyone knows what my eventual fate will be. I just hope it does n't hurt getting your penis trimmed.
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[ WP ] In an attempt to convince people society would have been better if humanity had never found religion , a time traveler kills anyone who begins to develop a form of faith . He goes back to the present and finds that people now universally worship a god who travels through time and smites heathens .
| “ Shit! SHIT. SHIIIIIIIIIIT. ”
In the middle of Tralfagar Square, Jerry stood in front of a 20 foot marble statue immaculately crafted in his likeness. In brass beneath it, a large plaque read: “ WE LIFT OUR LIGHT TO THE GLORY OF JERRY. ” Jerry bent over and put his head between his knees.
“ Ahh, God. Ahhh jeez, aww crap okay. Dammit, I -- - shit. ” He threw his hands in the air. “ How in the hell did it even -- - “
The sound of a soft splat caused Jerry to turn to his left. A small boy no older than six stood agape with an empty ice cream cone in his hand and a blob of strawberry sherbet between his feet. Jerry looked around nervously, and then back to the kid. “ What? ”
The kid turned tail immediately and sprinted over to a small pack of women chatting with each other. He grabbed the sleeve of one woman ’ s jacket. “ Mom! Look! ”
The woman shot a stern look down at the kid. “ Nathaniel, Mommy is speaking with her friends, do you remember what I said about interrupting? ” The kid pulled harder. “ I know, but look! Look! Its Jerry! ” He pointed back to Jerry, who stood frozen watching the two. Jerry opened a hand in a perfunctory “ hello ” to the two.
“ Nathaniel, that is very rude you shouldn ’ t -- - “ The woman ( whose name is Bernadette, by the way ) froze.
Now, Bernadette has had a small handful of celebrity encounters in her life. Once, while walking down Madison Ave. in New York City, she saw Alec Baldwin with his wife coming out of a Barney ’ s. It struck her as sort of a comical scene: Alec was struggling to carry seven shopping bags, all filled to the brim, while his wife strode confidently ahead of him. He just couldn ’ t get the hang of it, one bag was always at risk of dumping over and spilling the contents on the sidewalk. He seemed flustered.
Something that struck her was that despite this goofball demonstration of physical ineptitude, something she never would have pegged as being the performance of a leading man like himself, it was undeniably Alec Baldwin. Read it right in his face the instant she looked at him, no mental interpretation necessary. Boom. Alec Baldwin everybody.
This, however, was not Alec Baldwin. This, as it turns out, was actually and in fact her savior standing in front of her, The Jerry. The same savior she had gone to Sunday School all her formative years in order to get to know and maybe she had tapered off as she went to college and found work and got married as people often do, but she damn sure never stopped believing by any stretch. She has always known Jerry, and she could say with all the clarity of soul that she thought a mother of three could be expected to have that she truly felt Jerry in her heart. And by all that she had come to know and learn in her life of the way the world works and how all that she was looking at defied it, she no less perfectly understood that she was standing before Jerry.
“ Oh my lans. ” Bernadette breathed out.
Bernadette spent the rest of her life as well as can be expected. Never mentioned seeing Jerry in Tralfagar Square with her son and neighborhood wife friends while on vacation in London to anyone, at any time ever in her life, literally until she died. That moment stayed pent up in her without a moment of catharsis to anyone. A crude smash of social expectation, self-doubt, disbelief, historical understanding, and just straight up balls out fear kept that shit stashed way way away in her mind. Way back in the deep freeze of sub-sub-memory. That was entirely fine with her. She knew what happened to people who claimed to have crazy religious experiences. She could keep that shit to herself.
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[ WP ] A Greek Mythological character lives a mundane life but still finds time to enjoy what/who they are .
| Everything changed when Christ came to town, after he arrived he was all out war in the cosmos. Prince of Peace, my ass. His Father could n't make nice anymore. I mean, we were n't friends but at least we some respectability. Then the Romans had to bloody well bring Christ into Europe and that's when all hell broke loose. Literally, hell broke loose. God closed down Hades and Tartarus. He reopened it up as Hell, the new destination for tortured souls. Which is rather upsetting, Hades was n't *that* bad. Now it's Hell. There are no more rivers, they're all dried up. There is n't any use for a ferryman these days.
So incase you did n't pick it up, my name is Charon. I'm the ferryman on the river Styx. God took away my job, my one and only pleasure in this world was paddling the waters of Hades.
There's a certain beauty to it. Imagine eternal twilight with ribbons of fire laced all around the coastline. There's no sky, only darkness and terra above.
Anyway, I managed to find my own Hades to paddle around. I've taken up Stand Up Paddleboarding. Now it's not quite my boat but it's pretty damn close. Sadly my eyesight is n't what it used to and I can only paddle when the moon shines. But for those few hours of moonlight, out on the waters once more, it feels like I'm in Heaven. Wait, I mean it feels like home. *I am Charon, The Ferryman of Hades once more... *
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[ WP ] Write a short story using this piece of art .
| Jenny Lee Q had always grown up with the Giant in her field. Her daddy had said that it had always been there, just like the rusting old car in their front yard. No one would talk about the Giant, except for Mr. Thomas. Mr. Thomas was the old lunatic that lived on their street. Everyone said he was crazy, he was always talking about aliens.
Nobody listened to Mr. Thomas except Jenny. And listen she did. She listened when he told her that the Giant was really a ship. She listened when he told her that the pilots were the people that founded this colony. She marveled at the idea of another planet, one that they called Earth. Of course, that was just a rumor. There were legends of course of the “ blue planet ” but all the good prosperous people could think was “ How would live ever survive on such a wet planet? ”
No. No one listened. Not even to Jenny ’ s favorite story. The story of Mars One.
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[ WP ] While walking , you notice everyone recoiling from a young woman . you speak to her to find out why . through her surprise , she explains she is death and everyone else sees a person based on how they feel about the concept of death . You 've never seen a more beautiful or inviting person .
| Often do I walk through the Valley, a local seaside park carrying the ocean breeze that breathes new life in my busy weeks. Most who tread here are locals that I see on a weekly basis, kids playing, people jogging, the lot.
However, to my surprise, I noticed a figure over a short distance with silken black hair flowing in the wind. She was in a tight black dress that showed off her impressive figure. It was a V neck, it did n't reveal much but just enough to make you wanting more. The lady was thin, not like the model thin, but exercises diligently with a slight emphasis on a bit of muscle over fat and bones. Natural bosoms that were sizeable but not the kind you smother your head in, you can do that at your local strip bar.
This stunning goddess turned to face me as I walked closer drawn in by her beauty. She gazed at me with her alluring light blue eyes and a gentle smirk on her porcelain face. I do n't know what was more distracting, her full lips with a crimson color, or her eyes that draw me in like the depths of eternity.
I could n't help but stand and lean on the railings next to her as she rested her arms on the cold bars not a feet away from me. The thought that I was in such close proximity was intoxicating. I thought my heart would beat like I was running a marathon but for some odd reason but it was as calm as the sea we were right next to, perhaps I was simply too mesmerized.
Both men and women were avoiding her, I can understand that, most people would put an exquisite beauty like her on a pedestal if not thinking she was some foreign celebrity. But I was too distracted to care about what others did at that point.
I don ’ t know what got into me, I usually don ’ t do something like this, but what the hell.
`` You're not from around here are you miss?'' I said.
She looked at me like I told her some lame joke and gave me a giant smile showing off her perfect teeth and said, `` I'm from everywhere.''
Raising an eyebrow was almost reflex with an answer like that, she replied with something so playful and mysterious at the same time that it got me craving for more.
“ I ’ m Louis, what might I call you by? ”
What might I call you by? What kind of idiot way is that to ask a lady her name. I guess it ’ s true, we become superbly stupid before absolute beauty.
She leaned her face over to mine, It was like electricity running through me as her skin slightly touched mine, it was ice cold but smoother than anything I had experienced in my life. If I died being held by her arms I would die a happy man.
“ Death, and I would gladly embrace you upon your deathbed, ” she whispered into my ear.
What? Was I that predictable? And she wants me to call her death? The word confusion does not begin to describe how I feel and look right now.
Death only smiled at me, as if telling me how naive I was.
“ Yes, it ’ s true, I am Death. I have other names too you know, Pluto, Osirus, Hades, Thanatos, Hel, and many more, so call me whichever you like. ”
I couldn ’ t even fathom the sort of joke she just tried to pull on me. She must really be not interested for her to tell me something so ludicrous. Quite honestly I wasn ’ t sure to laugh or to feel sorry for being led on so easily at this point. Maybe she was just insanely bored and I was a mere victim lucky enough to catch her attention.
As if on cue she gave out a hearty laugh after I finished my thoughts, I was pretty certain she was laughing and mocking at me at this point. She then slid her fingertips from my throat to my chin and almost passively forcing me to look at her in the eye.
“ People see me as what they think I am, you know, Death. The people walking away from me are likely thinking they are looking at someone playing dress up here. One is seeing me in a thick black hooded cloth with scythe to your throat, others are seeing me with a dog head and a human body, while some may think of me as some headless horseman. ”
“ But you, ” she smirked, “ you see me as this, do you have some infatuation with me? ”
Before I could even process what she just said I felt the temperature dropped significantly to the point where I could see my own breath. It was a deathly chill to the core for a mere fraction of time and left an afterimage of a skeleton where once a fine lady stood, then even that faded quickly.
Am I going crazy?
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[ WP ] When people found out that breads are bad and unhealthy for ducks , they began to stop giving them bread . However , the ducks are starting to act strangely . After all , there 's a reason our ancestors gave them bread in the first place .
| `` Yup, there they go again'' Micheal said, the ducks were on the move again. Me and micheal have been following this flock of ducks for a week now. We've been assigned by the city council to research the ducks. there have been alot of complaints of loud duck noises at night. this is weird behaviour for ducks as they mostly settle down at night, even weirder they do n't come so close to the city. it's 12 PM now, and it looks like they'll be moving soon.
`` Ok, lets get ready to move'' I told micheal, `` make sure you keep a good eye on them. you have better eyes than I do.'' Micheal is my intern, he's been working about weeks with me now. he's young and quite an active person so I thought he would be a good help for this assignment. `` Will do'' Micheal awnsered.
`` Shit, they're splitting up'' I said, there were 9 in a group now they are split up into a group of 4 and 5. `` I'll follow those 5, you take the other 4.'' `` Ok'' micheal replied as he started moving again. as I heard Micheal jogging off with his gear rummaging in his bag, I decided to make use of my nightvision goggles. I'm still amazed that the council complied to all our requests of gears, it would make the job 10 times easier.
I decided to start jogging after the ducks who were gliding through the air, they were easy to follow with the nightvision. all of a sudden the ducks made a diving motion towards the ground, just like predator birds would do. Now this was turning out to be an interesting night. I found a good point were I could observe the ducks from a comftable position I also made sure I had my camera at the ready, maybe I could get a good picture for the national geogrphic. I could win a money prize even if I got a good picture. as I was fantasizing about the contest I realized the ducks were all huddled around something making motions with their heads as if they were eating. I took a good look with my goggles it looked like `` Oh, god'' they were feeding on mice.
`` holy shit'' I whispered to myself, I decided to take a picture. with trembling hands I managed to get a good shot, after the ducks left I went over to what was left of the mice. I felt a shiver as I witnessed the aftermath of what happened I saw two mice torn in half, I checked the picture I took. it looks like they were swallowing mice whole.
`` Mike, you copy?'' No responce. `` Micheal if you do hear me, we'll have to rendevouz at the pond again where we started. I'll see you there in an hour'' I took a picture of the mice and started moving towards the pond.
As I reached the pond I was relieved to see Micheal, I was worried when he did n't awnser back over the walkie-talkie. `` Mike, I'm glad to see you're alright. Damn I saw some weird things, the ducks. they were feeding on mice. this is a breakthrough of a century.'' I said excitedly. Micheal's face was very pale when he faced me `` The ducks'' he whispered `` I saw them feeding on a fucking cat.''
The next morning there were reports of missing cats, dogs, and chickens. after I reported the events of the previous night, the council they immidiatly doubled my budget to find a way of stopping these ducks.
Micheal didnt want too continue with the assingments he was still too shocked by that night. I was dissapointed ofcource but I understood why. I decided to get a proffesionals help. I assigned an expert on the field of ducks Cillian Rafter. maybe he could make sence of what was happening also I brought in some some animal control.
We decided to start the following night after I informed them about the situation. we started at the same pond. `` this is where I started last time'' I told them. `` I think it's that flock other there who went hunting last time'' I realized 4 of them were missing `` atleast, 5 of them are there not sure about the other 4. maybe they've already left to hunt'' `` I think we should observe this group, the other 4 might not be back till this morning. no point in chasing them if we do n't where they are.'' Cillian commented, The man from animal control grunted his approval. the animal control guy we got assigned was a largely built man brandishing a net and tranquilizer.
`` they are showing normal behaviour'' Cillian said `` what time did they start moving last time?'' `` about 12 PM'' I said `` It's half past 12 now'' the animal control commented. `` Shit, maybe these 5 are just resting for today. we missed the others.'' I said with a hint of frustration `` We'll wait till those other 4 return'' Cillian said. `` Maybe I can test out my theory if these sta-.. wait can you hear that?'' I could hear a faint fluttering of wings above us. at that moment 4 ducks came crashing down upon us `` What the fuck'' the animal control shouted at the top of his lungs, the ducks were scratching and biting him, `` get them off me!'' as I was about to move so I could aid him the 5 ducks paddling in the pond sprung into action moving with rapid speed. `` fuck'' I whispered to myself `` Cillian get out of here, I'll help him.'' I ripped the net out of the man's hands and started swatting at the ducks on his back, the ducks retreated. I helped the man up and started running. out of the corner of my eye I saw cillian pulling something out of his bag. `` Cillian what are you doing? We have to go!'' I shouted to him. He ignored me instead he pulled out some bread from his bag and threw it infront of himself. The ducks instead of attacking the man, started pecking at the bread. The ducks from the pond of which I was sure were gon na attack the man instead sprung at the bread themselves.
`` How did you know that would work?'' I asked Cillian as we were observing the ducks eating the bread. `` You see, before we came out here I've been looking for some connection between the time of attacks and before that.'' `` Well what was it that you found?'' I asked intrigued `` Ever since there was a strict ban on feeding ducks bread they have become more restless. you see, the bread bloats their stomachs giving them the feeling of being full. so they would n't have to go looking for food''. `` yeah but why would they go for meat? Shit, why would they go for us?'' I asked `` I do n't know'' cillian admitted `` All I know that bread stops their need for hunting. It requires more research.''
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[ WP ] As the days pass , the mice start bringing you food .
| I was dying, and I had accepted that. A day passed, my wounds had stopped bleeding, but moving would reopen them.
Two days, I was on and off, awake and asleep.
The third day was the odd one. I had begun to feel again, thirst clutched to my mind, and hunger stabbed my stomach. They must have known I was weak, they brought me food.
It was old; morsels of meat and crumbs of stale bread, but they cautiously put it in front of my mouth. I lapped it up.
the meat could be no more than an inch in volume, but it quenched my thirst with blood.
Day four. They had found a rotting apple, and brought it to me. I ate it gratefully, rotting chunks included.
six days passed, and I could finally sit up. The mice were multiplying, or at least they were no longer hiding. They brought meats, grains, daries, and fruits, gradually increasing in size and quality as the mice realized what my needs were. They even found a bottle of water. There was dirt on the sides, and there was no cap, but I drained the bottle three times every day.
On a day in which I was particularly depressed and crying, the mice lapped at my tears and brought extra water.
Eight more days passed until I could steadily walk. The mice trailed behind me, as if they would catch me if I fell.
I left after a total of thirty five days with a squadron of mice at my beck and call.
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