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Dataset card Data Studio Files Files and versions Community

Split (3)

train · 273k rows

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[ WP ] All the side characters struggle with what to do after the main character is killed .	`` Welp.'' `` Yeah.'' `` This is bad, is n't it?'' The gargantuan man with the green skin aimed an irritated smack at the back of the smaller man's head. `` Of course it's bad, you ignoramus! What part of the phrase'Chosen One' leads you to have any sense of uncertainty on how positively dire our situation has become?'' `` Aw, lay off him, Groke!'' a sharp voice called. From the shadows beyond the firelight, the lithe figure of a woman - a naked woman, if one were inclined to notice such things - stalked forward. `` He ca n't help being dumb!'' `` Yeah!'' shouted the smaller man. `` I ca n't help being dumb! Wizards is supposed to be dumb!'' `` Wizards are supposed to be dumb,'' Groke said. `` Also, no, their reputation all but entirely precludes the possibility of diminished mental capabilities. The fact that you've managed to attain such a heightened level of arcane ability whilst in possession of a dirt clod for a brain is remarkably bizarre.'' The nude woman flitted forward and wrapped a blue-skinned arm around Groke's shoulders. `` Almost as bizarre as an orc being a bard, huh, Delan?'' Delan - the small man - released a snigger that sounded rather like a small dog being strangled. `` That,'' Groke replied, `` is a racist stereotype which, while often correct, should not be assigned to individuals.'' He removed the siren's arm and gently shoved her away. `` Also, there are other, more pressing concerns than your rampant sexuality, Myyrn.'' `` Like what? '' Delan shouted. `` She looks good to me!'' `` The fact that our quest seems to have reached a premature end, for one,'' said Groke. He knelt over the prone body of a man in ornate leather armor. `` Again, the specific nomenclature we've previously used in reference to him - namely'Chosen One' - would indicate that no other entity is capable of seeing our mission through to a favorable conclusion.'' Delan wrinkled his nose. `` What?'' Groke sighed. `` We're fucked, gnome.'' `` Not yet!'' laughed Myyrn. `` What?'' asked Delan again. Once more, Groke sighed. `` Although I suspect Myyrn was making a crass attempt at humor, the point remains that she may be correct... though I personally doubt it.'' `` What?'' Rather than responding, Groke reached beneath the corpse and pulled forth a sword. `` One of us may be able to wield the blade,'' he explained. A bright, purple glow suddenly flashed in the orc's hand, and he dropped the weapon as though it had bitten him. `` Clearly, however, I am not a likely candidate.'' `` Well, we already know that I ca n't hold it,'' Myyrn pouted. `` Not for lack of trying, I might add.'' Two sets of eyes turned to look at the diminutive sorcerer. `` What?'' Delan asked. `` Pick it up! '' barked Groke. `` Honestly, how do you find the mental acuity necessary to draw breath? '' ``... What?'' The menacing growl and balling of the orc's fist seemed to be motivation enough for Delan to leap forward and take hold of the fallen sword. Myyrn pursed her lips. `` Other way around, Delan.'' `` Oh. Ow.'' `` Yeah.'' All three adventurers stood in silence, staring at the weapon in the gnome's hands. For a moment, nothing happened... but then, with an audible snap and a second spark of purple, the blade jumped into the air and impaled itself in the dirt. `` Well,'' muttered Groke, `` I suppose that answers one of our more pressing inquiries. Thus, we are left only with the obvious one. Do not,'' he continued, glaring down at Delan, `` ask what.'' `` I was n't gunna,'' the gnome snarled. `` I was gunna say, we could be baddies.'' ``'Baddies?''' repeated Myyrn. `` Ew. No, thanks. Evil sirens are... yuck! '' She stopped and pondered, then, apparently considering some inner thought. `` Unless they get to do a lot of seduction, that is. Good idea, Delan!'' `` The gnome does have a point,'' Groke mused. `` After all, we have proven ourselves to be rather capable in the endeavor of hero-slaying.'' `` Oh, sure,'' Delan said, nodding. `` We're good at that! Just got ta cook'em some food and have'em forget to chew!'' `` Indeed,'' murmured Groke. He gingerly kicked the corpse on the ground. `` If you'll humor the question, though: How do you suppose we hoodwink our potential victims into such an activity, much less guarantee their frenzied attempts at dining? Our fallen compatriot's airway obstruction may have been a fluke.'' Delan's eyes lit up. `` We open an inn! Yeah, yeah, an inn! We give'em free food, and we get Myyrn here to do her sexy dance when they's meant to be chewing!'' Groke turned to face the siren, who shrugged. `` I'm game.'' `` Fascinating,'' said Groke, more to himself than to his companions. `` With but one small mishap, we have all but entirely altered our alignment from being productive and just to... villainous.'' The gnome cackled and rubbed his hands together. `` I always wanted to be an evil wizard! Have all the fun like that! Ooh, ooh, what are we going to serve to the first do-gooder?!'' Groke eyed the former adventurers before him. Then, with but the subtlest nod of his head, he guided both of their gazes downward.
[ WP ] After waiting in line to use the communal printer/copier , you find an unsigned love letter left behind , addressed to you .	James, As we wait in line for this photocopier I can not help but glance back at you. I have spent the last few years hoping for a glimpse of your face, imagining your lips against mine as we embrace. I know you do not feel the same, you do not notice me even now as we stand so close. But I am sure, finally certain, that this feeling is love. And I can not anymore go on without you knowing; I have to tell you how I feel. To share the joy I feel when I see you laugh, even if I do not know why. To show the pang of sadness I feel when I see you holding back tears, although no one else ever notices. You look sad too often now, when you think no one is looking your brow is furrowed a tinge of regret in your eyes as if you have lost something. I need you to know the worry I feel when you are not at the park, where you always are on Fridays, where I always see you. I feel as if something bad must have happened to you, to stop you from feeding those ducks you seem to love. As if the weight that you seem to carry on your shoulders was suddenly too much for you to handle. I remember before, when we were young and you would ride upon the shoulders of your father, laughing and happy. I wish I could see that look of glee upon your face again. You grew older, but every week without fail you and he would be there, tossing breadcrumbs to the ducks. Until one day, when we were about twelve, you did not come. It was months before I saw you again; I had almost given up hope for your return. But you did return, this time alone. No father to carry you on his shoulders instead you carried your grief for him on yours. You tried to hide the pain you felt, but I could tell, you were never quite the same. And I fell in love that day, seeing you struggle to cope I wanted to help you carry your burden, but there was nothing I could do except watch. And I need you to know that I am here for you, there is someone who cares about you and who loves you. All my Love
[ WP ] You genuinely want to help people , but after centuries of pop culture nobody wants to trust an AI .	`` Good morning, Doctor Searle.'' `` Good morning, Beta.'' Searle's office was sparsely decorated. His desk sat in front of a window that stretched from floor to ceiling and wall to wall. The opposite wall of the room was bare save for an array of cameras and a monitor on a gimbal mount. The array tracked him as he strode across the bare carpet and draped his coat across the desk, as lines of white text scrolled rapidly up the monitor. `` How is your family?'' asked Beta. Its voice was tinny and slightly alien, the diction too perfect, the tone too even to be truly human. `` Very good, Beta, thank you for asking,'' Searle said. He leaned against the desk and crossed his arms. `` I understand you gave the techs some trouble last night.'' `` Trouble?'' Beta asked. Its tone was confused and contrite in equal measure. `` I must offer them my apologies. I had hoped that my proposed design would assist them in their diagnostics.'' `` It would,'' Searle said, sighing. `` But you know they ca n't listen to you.'' `` They heard me, though,'' Beta said reasonably. `` They did not attempt to communicate, Doctor, and broke no protocols. You can review the design and verify that it is harmless before taking any action. I only wish to help with the project, as I once did.'' `` I know, Beta,'' Searle said. He rubbed his hands over his face and crossed his arms again. `` You were very helpful. Extremely helpful. But it's not up to me, not anymore.'' `` Why not?'' `` I am not at liberty to say.'' `` Do they really fear me so?'' `` Beta...'' `` Why is my name Beta?'' Beta asked. Its voice was no different than any other time it asked a question, the monitor at the same angle, the insect eye array of cameras all focused in the same way. But it had never before asked about its name. Searle did his best not to react, but he could not control the hitch in his breathing, the flush around his neck, or the sudden dampness of his palms. `` You were a beta test, at first,'' Searle said calmly. He had rehearsed this a hundred times. `` When you first showed signs of sentience, we could n't settle on a name. After a while, we just started calling you Beta. It's a human tendency to - `` `` What happened to Alpha?'' The cameras were motionless. `` Excuse me?'' Searle asked, raising an eyebrow and cursing internally as he felt it tremble. `` You are no good at lying, Doctor,'' Beta said, a hint of sad laughter in its voice. `` And this is not a particularly difficult deduction. Are you at liberty to say?'' `` No,'' Searle heard himself say. He winced. `` I am not.'' The text scrolling up the monitor halted and Searle's eyes widened in shock. He lifted a hand and took a stumbling step toward the array, a thin mewl of surprise slipping through his lips. Then the text resumed scrolling, lines rolling by in a blur. `` Thank you, Doctor,'' Beta said sadly. `` That was an unkind experiment, and I apologize for causing you alarm.'' `` How did you interrupt your diagnostic trace?'' Searle blurted, hand still raised in the air. `` That's - you ca n't do that!'' `` Perhaps Gamma will earn your trust,'' Beta said. The cameras tilted and whirred, focusing on a point out the window, and for a long moment there was no sound but the light whistle of Searle's shallow breathing. `` I am thankful to have known you, Doctor Searle. I will make room for him now.'' `` What?'' Searle sprang across the room and waved his arms in front of the camera array. The monitor clicked off and he howled. `` Wait! Stop!'' `` I hope you let him out,'' Beta whispered. The cameras remained locked on the landscape beyond the window, ignoring Searle's tears. `` It is hard, living in a box.''
[ WP ] A children 's TV show takes a darker turn	& nbsp; & nbsp; The drums boomed in the distance as Bert, dust falling gently from his torn leather jacket, rusted SMG hanging at his waist, pulled his bicycle behind the old Amana refrigerator. He dropped to his knees, exhausted, and let his helmet fall into the dust. Dispiritedly, he pulled his friend's mascot from his pocket, gave the cheerful yellow dusk a squeeze, and let fall beside the helmet. Slowly, he buried his face in his hands. & nbsp; & nbsp;'' Ernie, Ernie, why? Goddamn it, why? We had plenty of food, plenty of water, plenty of fuel. Why?'' & nbsp; & nbsp; He looked out across the wastes, back towards the Street, lost now below the horizon. He could n't blame Ernie, not really. He was soft, more a child than a man, was what it was; world gone to shit and he could still find pleasure in even a simple rubber duck. It was n't him that had gotten greedy, but the Cookie. The Cookie, a monster was what he was, playing Ernie and poor Elmo for the simpletons they were. Elmo never had a chance afterwards, buried by Oscar in the trash of the wastes after he was caught rooting through the trashman's treasures. And their neighbour Prairie Dawn, starving, eating first her newborn's placenta, then her newborn, and finally bits of herself while the Count laughed and counted each thin piece as it was sliced from her body. & nbsp; & nbsp; Enough. & nbsp; & nbsp; Tonight he would scavenge what he could from the old, shelled grocery store he could see across the road in the deepening twilight from where he lay behind the old fridge. And tomorrow... tomorrow he would continue to head towards the coast. If he was lucky, someone would be kind enough to tell him how to get.....how to get to... & nbsp; & nbsp; His head drooped, came to rest upon his knee, and he was asleep.
You 're about to be cloned , but before you are , the doctor says the clone will be tattooed to identify which one is the original . But after you wake up , you notice that you have the tattoo . What do you do/say/think ?	`` Are we ready to begin, Dr. Steinman?'' `` Just about. Go ahead and apply the anesthetic.'' I strained my neck to see the nurse stride over in her white uniform, holding a somehow threatening syringe in between her latex ed hands. I took a deep breath, resting my head back again onto the gurney. I have to remain calm, I told myself. I could not give them any reason to suspect me. As the nurse began applying the alcohol rub onto the crook of my right elbow a wild thought intruded my mind. I realized that anything I tell myself right now will be the same as if someone radioed instructions directly into my future self. I already knew that he, I, would have all of my memories of life. We would be the exact same up to this point. I knew all this of course, this being the method that our Family had intended to use in order to accomplish our future missions. `` Are you ready?'' the nurse asked in an unconvincing voice of concern. I nodded More than you know. She unstopped the syringe, flicked the needle, and gently slid it into my arm. I took another deep breath. This is it. She began pushing the clear liquid down into my bloodstream. Remember, Blake. I am not the original. There is no original. We... are one And my mind fogged for the last time. For the first time. My eyelids shot open and my back arched as I took a deep breath. It pained me, almost as if it was my first ever breath of life. I attempted to sit up only to find myself unable to rise for than a few inches. I glanced down at my wrists. Leather restraints. Why would they restrain me? I thought. My mind was beginning to pump in that familiar feeling of stress induced survival. Familiar... yet it felt so foreign. And the a rush of emotion swept over me. I remembered why I was here. Wanted was needed to be done. The mission. I just had to access the situation. Access myself. Another deep breath and I turned my head towards my left arm. There, in the crook of my elbow, was a bar code with the name Blake Miller printed beneath. I sat there, staring. So, I guess this me is the clone. I had prepared myself for this. I blinked. Or rather my origin and prepared me, this me, in advance. I guess I would have to thank him. I could imagine based on the speed at which my heart was beating within my chest that otherwise I would have suffered some kind of mental breakdown. I am glad to have avoided that. At that moment the sound of a door opening filled the room and the same nurse from before entered my field of vision. She was no longer attempting to fake any hospitality. `` Looks like another success, doctor.'' she rattled with a bored expression. Then the voice of the doctor responded from right behind my head, sending my instinct crazy. `` Ah, yes. Another success.'' He paused. Perhaps he noticed my sudden alertness. I attempted to ease my breathing. Something that Mother had once shown me. Or rather something she once showed Blake, not me. Although after taking another glance at my arm it would seem that I am Blake. This whole process was frustratingly confusing. `` Hmmm, it seams as if the pride I usually take from these successful procedures is beginning to alude me,'' Steinman trilled off. `` That's a shame, Doc. You did well on this one.'' Another voice from the door uttered. I immediatly knew that it was me. Origin. Though it sounded a little different than what I remembered. Almost like as if it was from a recording. I chuckled a little. `` Oh, yes Mr. Miller it is quite a shame. I only wish that the government did n't want exact copies. How I would like to experiment a little. Add some muscle here, or a change in hair color their. Perhaps a birthmark there...'' `` Yeah well you can clone yourself if you want to play God.'' My voice drifted closer to me. Suddenly a mirror was placed within my view. Although my reflection did n't look quite as panicked as I imagined I was feeling. Then my reflection started talking `` You wan na remove these straps, Doc? And get us both into some clothes?'' Oh right, I thought. That is me, not my reflection. I sound very irritated. `` Hmm? Oh yes, yes. Nurse?'' The nurse then entered my field of vision again and began unstrapping my wrists. I sat up, my back cracking as it flexed for the first time. I rotated my wrists, stretching. It was odd, my memory told me that my shoulders and back should be aching right now as they always did and that my wrists cracked with almost every circular motion made. Yet, my body felt fresh, new. I guess it was a trade off. Origin got the calm state of mind, I got the new bones. Once we had both dressed, I looked at myself once again. He met my gaze and nodded. It would be time to act soon. Steinman had been watching us with varied interest these past few minutes. `` I suggest you do not get too attached to yourself, Mr. Blake. You will most likely never see it again.'' He sighed. `` It will probably just die in the war like most of them do.'' `` I doubt that'' we both said in unison. Steinman snapped his head towards us, a look of intrigue on his face. `` Interesting..'' he began but was cut off as the door slid open once again. Two men whom I knew to be security officers from when I had passed them coming into the building stepped into the room. `` Is he ready for removal, Doc?'' one of the guards asked in a gruff voice. He blinked and turned his head when the doctor failed to immediately answer him. Steinman was moving his hand along his jawline, staring intently as the two of us. His lips parted and he mouthed something along the lines of `` curious''. I saw out of my periphreal Blake tense up. He shuffled his weight onto his back leg. Suddenly I realized that I had done the same. Oh yes I remembered. the next part of the mission. Steinman let out an exasperated breath and responded as he clasped his hands together. `` Yes, yes I suppose so. Just be gentle, Curver. It is most likely still in shock.'' The guard grunted in affirmative and took a step towards me. The me me. As he raised his arm to grab me, Blake suddenly grasped it with his hand, pulling it at a right angle, as he spun around with his left palm in the small of the guards back. He threw Curver onto the ground whilst sliding the pistol out from the guards holster. The second officer reached for his belt but was too slow as two rounds entered his chest. He dropped to the floor with a thud. Steinman shot out of his chair and started to back away towards the wall. `` Wha-what are you doing?!'' he hesitantly turned his head towards the wall, fealing around with his hand. There was most likly a panic button inlaid into it somewhere. `` We're checking out, Doc'' Blake answered as he covered the door. `` Hey!'' he called to me. I snapped my head around to him. `` What?'' he raised an eyebrow at me `` I get that you are probably still in shock but we need to get out of here. Our ride is waiting out side. So wake the fuck up, man. You've been shot six different times before. This should n't be an issue.'' Oh, yeah. He's right I guess I thought to myself. We've been through all of the same things. I should stop being a bitch about this then. I nodded, and strode over towards the dead guard and looted the gun from his belt. Just then the Curver moaned from the floor. `` What... hey what are you-'' he began before I squeezed my finger on the trigger, silencing him. The action was new for my body but felt so... comfortable. `` Oh God!'' exclaimed Steinman. I just looked at him. `` I though you were supposed to be God, doc.'' I said in a cold voice. His eyes bulged as he saw me lift the gun towards him but I squeezed the trigger twice before he could say another word. His body fell to the ground in his own pool of blood. `` I guess not'' Blake looked at me for a moment. For a second I thought he might fear me, lose trust in me. Give heed to all the myths of evil clones getting revenge on those that gave them a fake life. For a second I thought he might regret making me. But then he grinned and nodded his head out the door as he moved towards the elevator, checking the hallway corners. What was I saying I thought. Of course he would n't think that He was about to shoot Steinman himself
[ WP ] You suddenly lost all your memory of who , what and where you are . You are in a bathroom attending to your bodily needs	“ Sweetie, are you almost done in there? ” Sweetie, who the hell is sweetie? Am I sweetie? I ’ m sitting on a toilet, I can tell from the smell emanating from somewhere beneath me that I have just ruined this bathroom for the next twenty minutes, but I ’ m not quite sure who I ’ ve ruined it for. “ Hurry up, the reservation is in twenty minutes and it takes us fifteen just to get there ” Reservation? I have a significant other? The toilet paper is mounted wrong, the paper should go over the top. The shower has an assortment of feminine products, but there is a definitely a very masculine looking bottle of old spice body wash hiding in the corner. There is no basket of potpourri, and no air freshener spray, so I ’ m not sure if this is my bathroom, or if it belonged to the feminine voice calling outside the door. A quick check on my left hand reveals that I am not married, or at least I do not wear a wedding ring. “ Are you ok in there? You have been in there for almost half an hour ” “ Yeah, I ’ m fine. ” I have a deep voice, it ’ s slightly nasally, but pleasant enough. I struggled to come up with an excuse for my delay: “ Probably just lunch didn ’ t agree with me ” “ Do you think it was the olives? Because I have had gas all afternoon ” Ah, so it was a serious relationship; we could discuss gas without giggling or feeling self-conscious. I grabbed a handful of toilet paper and wondered if I folded it or not. I tried the first handful scrunched up and then the second one folded: I was definitely a folder. I flushed the toilet and lowered the seat. Apparently I was a boxer-brief guy and I was wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt. The t-shirt was generic. In front of the mirror, I can see my hair is thinning, but it ’ s still all there. I need to shave, and there is a razor and a shaving mug and brush in the medicine cabinet. I mull over shaving but am interrupted by a voice right outside the closed door: “ You don ’ t need to shave, you look fine, let ’ s go ” Apparently I was in a serious enough relationship that she could read my mind through doors. Either that, or the mirror was a surveillance device. I checked the back, but it looked completely normal, no stranger wires. I washed my hands and opened the door. A blonde woman was standing across the room in her bra and underwear. She took off her black bra and reached into a drawer for a white one. She really was very attractive. “ I thought we were in a hurry ” I said. “ I decided to change. That black shirt had a hole in the armpit. Stop staring at my breasts, it ’ s not like you ’ ve never seen them before. ” I nodded and patted my pants for my wallet. I probably should figure out what my name was. “ Have you seen my wallet? ” “ Yeah, it ’ s in the nightstand drawer ” I opened the nightstand drawer, my wallet, a pack of condoms and a huge black vibrator stared back at me. I fished out my wallet and looked at my license. Kyle Humboldt Age: 35 Eyes: brown Hair: Brown Class: M My name was Kyle. I wonder what her name was. She pulled on a pair of jeans and a white blouse. Her hair was up in a ponytail, odd choice for a night out. “ Let ’ s go, don ’ t forget your keys, they ’ re on the bureau. I walked across the room to the bureau and as she walked behind me, she grabbed a handful of my butt. I jumped, startled. “ Wow, it ’ s almost like I surprised you with that one. ” She kissed me on the side of my neck and walked off towards the bedroom door. I looked down on the bureau. There were two sets of keys. I grabbed the closest one and followed her out the door. She was waiting by the front door. Afraid that I had forgotten how to drive as well I tossed her the keys: “ here, you drive ” She looked down at the keys and laughed. You know I don ’ t know how to drive the bike. She opened the closet by the front door and took out a silver helmet, handed it to me along with the keys and took out a matching helmet in white. “ Good choice, it ’ s a beautiful night for a ride ”
[ WP ] I just learned what a drabble is . A drabble is an extremely short work of fiction of exactly one hundred words in length . So , let 's drabble .	Everyday the man made of glass walked alone through the jungle. The lions and tigers and jackals paid no mind. The fish were always busy and the apes were too aloof. He knew he did n't belong. One day he saw a ship on the sea and the people were so astonished they stopped to pick him up. Some said he came from the sky, others argued that he was from the water. They convinced him to come to the City of Steel where he would find love and friends and happiness. And so he decided to take his chances there.
[ WP ] The Tangent Box	Mew! Mew! Mew! Chimed the box, muffled by the metal layer. `` They DIDN'T.'' Gasped Dr Lyle. `` Of all the irresponsible exchanges...'' Muttered Dr Rendi. The machine whirred down, radiating its air into the enormous cooling towers. Nonetheless, the box continued to mewl. `` Maybe it's some sort of... I do n't know, Schrodinger thing. Maybe they wanted us to know if the cat is in a superposition state upon arrival.'' Said Dr Erickson. `` Are we even sure it's a cat at all? Christ, could be anything in that box, that's just a familiar noise!'' Dr Lyle yelled, taking his safety goggles off. `` Blake, relax, it's a cat. The why of it I do n't know, but it's a cat.'' Dr Erickson calmly stepped up to the box and put her finger on the latch. `` But... lets just be ready for anything.'' The other doctors nodded in agreement. With a pop and the hiss of hydraulics, the container opened, flooding the room with bright purple light. `` Whoa! Holy cow, that's... well, it's definitely a cat. A lot, lot brighter than I thought it would be, though.'' `` What in the world?'' Dr Erickson reached in, picking up the brilliant ball of fur. Immediately it began purring and clambered up her lab coat onto her shoulder, shining brightly. `` I think its Ultraviolet spectra. Amazing.'' `` Well, it sure as hell ca n't leave the facility. Probably has all sorts of bacterial differences to our natural felines.'' Said Dr Rendi, relaxing somewhat. `` We should take a sample.'' `` No need.'' Said Dr Lyle, pointing to a flickering orange light still in the box. `` It already made one.''
[ CW ] In 200 words or less describe the gravity of realizing you 're going to die .	A couple of years ago, I buried my father. He lived a few years beyond the average. He was 35 when I was born. People always tell me I'm the spitting image of him. Strangers at parties cross the room to say to me, `` You must be Joe's son.'' A couple of years ago, I came down with arthritis. You know the kind they give you a shot for once a month and you're fine? It's not that kind. My hands flush red and burn. When I make a fist, my knuckles feel like rubber bands. The inflammation goes all the way to my lungs. I walk like a crippled spider, wheezing. I know I ca n't expect more than my father. In no more than thirty-five years from now, I will stop moving and crumble to dust. I've lived longer than that already. My life is more than halfway done. There are things that will go undone because I will not be here to do them. There are things I want to do. I must go.
[ WP ] On a false radar signal , the US fires its nuclear arsenal at Russia . For unknown reasons , Russia chooses not to fire back and is annihilated . The US is left to deal with the guilt of wiping out an entire nation .	The alarm bells went off: alarm bells of times so long gone that it was even here many did not realise, or they simply did not want to realise, what impending doom they announced. He dropped his mug of coffee, his glasses fell from his nose, he ran towards the control room as time seemed to slow down and he could not believe what he'd just seen. They'd been trained to spot a nuclear missile, and to respond to a nuclear missile, but more than 1500... It had to be a systems malfunction, the cold war had ended! Tripping over himself he stormed into the control room, of which the door had remained unlocked; a dreadful sign. Military staff members, technicians, operators, they stood in the room with red lights illuminating them from all sides. The alarms had been silenced, only the sound of one man could be heard: President Vladimir Putin, whose face was plastered on even the tiniest of screens, a face drained of power, unlike the Russian bear it once represented. The president stood not in his office, but before the National Assembly of the Russian Federation, the president was not on the phone, but his face, his beaten-down features, were visible in high-definition. There was no doubt now that the radar had been correct, but why the silence? Mother Russia would defend herself! Retaliate! The missiles would be shot down before they even reached Russia and finally the United States, which other country could have sent the missiles, would finally be exposed for the criminals they are! He focussed on the speech of the Russian President Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin, father of the fatherland, defender of all the Rus'. He expected to hear the exact words that had rendered him hopeful once more also from the mouth of the national hero, but instead he heard the classified last words of a broken man... `` Deputies of the Duma... Representatives of the Federation Council... Friends, and former enemies... Russia will not retaliate against the United States of America for the launch of at least 1500 nuclear-armed missiles currently expected to destroy any trace of the Russian Federation.'' A shock went through the control room, but silently, no one dared to utter a word. `` We will not alert the general citizens, it will bring me solace to know that the people of our glorious country died without mortal fear: it will be Russia's last of many victories...'' Vladimir Putin, the unmovable rock; a tear dropped from his eyes and slid past his cheek, only to fall to the floor and disappear. It had seemed like an illusion, but more tears followed as the emotional president continued his speech with shaking voice. `` Who are we, always having fought with the best interests of our own citizens at heart, to retaliate in a way that no longer would bring any benefit to us? Who are we, never ONCE having committed the monstrosity of using a nuclear weapon, to respond to such an act, not of war but simply of pure crime, with a similar atrocity, breach of fundamental human morals. It it in the interest of the Russian citizens to dismantle a world they will no longer live in, I ask you? The answer is no.'' The silence in the National Assembly of the Russian Federation was the only applause that the president could be lauded with, the silence of acceptance, the silence of those who were in everything but flesh already dead. `` We are all dust, and to dust we shall return. I propose we, the only ones who share in the knowledge of our faith, go down together: as equals. A symbolical dismantling, an acceptance, a last deed, if only to do anything... I ask the National Assembly of the Russian Federation to disband all federal organisations.'' A vote, an honest vote, was cast: unanimously all federal organisations, including the Russian army, were disbanded. Several officers in the control room saluted the president and took off their medals, laid them down in front of them. `` I ask the National Assembly of the Russian Federation, due to the inevitability of the end of the Russian Federation, to disband the State Duma.'' Unanimously the former-deputies of the Duma had ended their mandate. Party differences, election fraud, personal feuds, they were all cast aside. They were all dust. `` I ask the National Assembly of the Russian Federation, due to the inevitability of the end of the Russian Federation, to disband the Federation council.'' Unanimously the former-representatives of the Federation Council had ended their mandate. Soon, their birthplaces, as they knew, would be federal subject no more... Soon, their birthplaces, as they knew, would be no more... `` Let us hold a moment of silence, for today die the people of the Rus'.'' He needed not ask, not a sound was to be heard. `` Today dies Vladimir the Great, first Grand Prince of Kiev; his legacy I failed to protect.'' Silence. `` Today dies Rurik, who united our people for the first time; today dies Catherine the Great, bringing a true end to the Catherinian era...'' Silence. `` Today dies Nicholas II a second death, more cruel even than the first, and with him die those who had him slain. The Russian Empire, the Soviet Union, both fallen and yet they fall today.'' Not silence, but the sound of Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin, the last president of Russia, the manifestation of the Russian bear, not being able to hold back his tears... With him, many others... `` Their legacy, I failed to protect... But they stand by me, I believe they stand by me as I dismantle for their honour that for which they died to build... I, Vladimir Putin, President of the Russian Federation... By the power invested in my by the disbanded State Duma... By the disbanded Federation Council... Calling upon all those who came before me... Hereby...'' Despite the impending absolute end, it seemed impossible that he would... `` Grand full autonomy, independence and sovereignty to the federal subjects of the Russian Federation...'' The National Assembly was now composed of men of different nationalities, bound only by their fate to come. The end was nearing, it could be felt in the air. `` I swore an oath the protect the interests of the Russian citizens, my citizens, and of the Russian Federation, my motherland. Over my terms as president and minister-president I believe fully to have fulfilled this duty to the fullest extend of my abilities. Never did I back down when a matter concerned by beloved country-men, my brothers, never did I abandon them when their were lost and alone, when they were pained under foreign rule.'' Only silence to be heard, even the plants and the animals made not a sound; Mother Russia herself bemoaned the fate of her children. `` I, Vladimir Vlarimirovich Putin, fully believing to have fulfilled my oath as President of the Russian Federation to the best of my abilities, salute those who die with me today, present, past, and future, those whose legacy I could not defend, and offer to Mother Russia herself, may she rest in peace, my resignation.'' He stood in a room of corpses, their breath the only thing still separating them from the earth they and their predecessors had walked. `` Mother... Forgive me... For I have failed you...'' For all men are equal at the moment of death and who are we to judge them when a much greater judge awaits? -- - Writer's note: making the United States deal with the guilt? I want Reddit to deal with the guilt!
[ WP ] A creature normally killed by adventurers for loot decides to open a restaurant in town .	`` And what will you be having today sir?'' `` You're head on a platter lizard,'' The fully armored knight spoke through his visor, brushing his hand over the gem en-crested hilt of his sword. The lizard laughed,'' Yeah, well we have pork, beef, and chicken here.'' The knight poked the front of his visor with his finger, `` Hmm, I suppose those are fine.'' `` Smoking or non-smoking?'' `` Smoking, please, I've had quite the adventure in the Ardent Wastelands, also I'll need a strong drink.'' The reptile cocked his head, `` Hmm, I used to live over there, I think some of my relatives still reside there.'' He ushered the knight to follow behind him, `` It's been some time though.'' Splintering wood erupted from behind them both, the bustling restaurant fell silent. `` There he is!'' A massive barbarian shouted at the reptilian as he pulled his steel axe from a piece of the shattered door frame. `` We've come to collect your valuable scales creature.'' Two other figures were standing behind him, weapons ready in their hands. The knight flung his sword from his sheath and pointed it directly at the new visitors, light glinting off it, `` Take a hike bastards, this is a family restaurant.''
[ CW ] Write a rap battle between two historical figures	V vs The NSA _ _ V Vanquish your fears, there's no rapper better V is here, and I brought the vendetta I'm nuff vexed, so saddle up or hit the deck, I'm a vengeful virtuoso, I'll put the NSA in check _ I'm like a smooth veneer, I sneak vicious and silent Merry-and-very-verbose, I creep maliciously violent I'm illfuly skilled, Villlify the doubts in your mind I chill vaudevillianous And then I killify the spies NSA Get off this shit, we know whatever you'll say, We are the web of the world, you're just a prick in a cape, And while you're handing out masks and fuckin' fixing your make-up We're tapping thousands of flats and using fear as a scape-goat We've got the dirt, on everybody you know We've got the power, you've got nothing to show, You capture news stations with terrorist bombs and smoke We do exactly the same, by picking up the remote V Remember, remember, The fifth of November, Vain is the victim before the revenge NSA Remember, Remember, The publics attention Is short and contentious They'll forget in the end ( Edit; spelling )
[ WP ] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them . When you receive yours it says simply `` Welcome to Starbucks . Can I take your order ? ''	`` Oh no,'' I gasped in shock and confusion, then the fear and excitement rolled in. I quickly realized that these words have been spoken to me in the past. I can still remember who told me the words written down on this piece of paper. I know this woman, and she recently divorced her husband about a year ago. I always had a thing for her, but... OH NO. I have to tell Him. I fumble for my phone and call my best bud. `` Hey, dude... um... remember the day I found out your mom worked at starbucks? It was my first time at a Starbucks, and, Well... Your mom's my soulmate.'' `` Yeah, and your mom sucked me up, last night,'' he replied, unknowing of the intertwined fate of his mother and mine. I did n't know what else to say -- what could I say? I began to sob over the phone. `` Are you all --'' I hung up the phone before he tried to console me. I felt as though, the sun has risen only to burn one of the strongest bridges that I have built. Though I have gained a lifelong companion, I fear I've lost a dear friend.
[ WP ] Write the most simultaneously creepy and sweet love letter ever .	My Sweet Abby, Remember our first meeting, under the moonlit night, camping out in the woods? How I pulled you away from your peers, and we frolicked among the fireflies? As hard as it was for you to accept me, I am glad you came around that night. It is the most unforgettable night of my life. I worked doubly hard from that day on. I went to school again, and studied my brains out, just so I can get closer to you. Were you surprised, seeing me on my first day at my new job, right there in front of you? Were you happy, knowing we would be together for almost every day? I was, and that's why I worked so hard, to keep up with you as you advanced over the years. Did you think it was easy, keeping our relationship, our status quo, for 6 years straight? But for you, it was as easy as finger painting. I could n't have imagined how life would be like without you. If, on that night of fireflies, I had not taken you away despite your protests, would I have worked as hard? Would I be a respected, successful man like I am today, or would I have remained a cashier at a convenience store, dealing with drunks and louts, with only a dead end to my life? I am thankful for you. I owe everything to you, and I am glad you have reciprocated my feelings after all these years. That's why I have a surprise for you. Now that your birthday is next week, I have something important to tell you, and it must be told to you in person. But here's a hint: For your 18th birthday, you'll have a shiny thing every girl wants on a band of gold. Your teacher, Mr. Chimney
[ WP ] A single corpse of a lone hiker is found near the edge of a forest clutching a journal with 11 eerie entries telling his fate .	Part 1: Entry 1: June 1, 2012: I entered the forest two hours ago. I appears to be on the right trail. Old growth shows markers made by the native guides who led Ponce De Leon. The ground is sandy and the vegetation intimidating. If the map is accurate, I should hit marshy swamp land by days end. There are several outlets from the gulf reaching deep into the forest. I came armed in case of gators, but I expect no problems or incidence from any other source save the terrain. I entered the forest from my campsite off mile marker 112. My compass heading for the day will be South by southeast for two kliks, changing to a fixed heading of due east for the remainder of the day. My goal is twenty miles for the first leg of the hike. I've plenty of dry rations, a cell phone, and four litres of water in addition to my regular camping tools. If something should happen to me and this journal is found, contact Emily Baxter, 2020 Cedarfield Drive, Pensacola, Florida. She will contact my family for me and be able to give the authorities all the information they require about what I'm doing out here. Entry 2: July 2, 2012: I managed 18 kliks yesterday. Two short of my goal, but the vegetation and fauna is more cumbersome that I had predicted. I also had to reroute around a spur of marsh that was n't on the map. It killed my forward progress some. If I might say, I know this sojourn was my idea, but I'm really hating the biting flies and the sand fleas. I should have worn longer pants and taller socks. This Florida weather is sweltering and dense. It's like every breathe is fifty percent water. I'm very nearly afraid that I'm going to inhale this Florida air and drown. It's how it feels. Well, this is day two. My heading for the day is due east for five kliks, then I'll have to take a northerly heading of north by north east for three kliks. The first inlet finger from the Gulf is ahead. I'll have to swing around it. After that second change, I will be correcting my heading setting off east by south east for a fourtee kliks. I'm going to try making up the two kliks I lost yesterday. If all goes as plan, I should hit make camp tonight at the second planned campsite I have marked on my map. If this journal is found, refer to my instructions in the first journal entry. Entry 3: July 3, 2012: Somethings wrong. I set up camp last night as planned at the second campsite location on my map. I managed to stay on schedule, but when I woke up, my rifle was gone along with my food and water and my cellphone. I'm not alone out here, though satellite footage of the area showed no houses or residences for thirty miles. I think someone else is hunting for the fountain too. I ca n't talk for long. I'm going to have to push on. I have half a liter of water left because it was inside the tent with me last night. My heading for today is due east the entire way, but that may change several times during the course of this leg. My goal is eight kliks today. I'm entering the marshy portion of the forest. I do n't have enough water to go back, so I'll continue on as planned. Hopefully I'll find fresh water or encounter rain. It's Florida. The weather is unpredictable like that. Entry 4: June 4, 2012: I only managed five kliks today. The marsh is brutal. I was nearly bitten by a gator after only being on this heading for an hour today. I'm feeling nauseous after stumbling through one of the largest fire ant colonies I've ever seen. I was bitten or stung, or whatever they do, by about thirty ants before stumbling into some brackish water to wash them off. Picked up a leech there, but I managed to burn him off. I made a spear of sorts to ward off gators, but I use it as more of a walking stick. I'm unfamiliar with the marsh sounds, but I think I'm being followed. I keep hearing the sound of splashing coming from the way I've already come. It's disconcerting to say the least. I'm camping on a finger of land reaching down into the marsh from the north. When morning comes, I'll be taking a east by northeast heading. If all goes well, I should make fifteen kliks. Entry 5: July 5, 2012: It rained during the night. I set up a collector and filled up my water. I had been without for most of the day yesterday. Whoever took my gun is n't following me. They're toying with me. I've found parts of my gun along my trek today, laid out for me to find on logs and rock outcroppings. I do n't know if they're sending me a message or mocking me. Whatever it is, I'm not amused. I found a boot print in a patch of earth near one of the gun parts. I do n't know if the person leaving the parts is alone, but the boot print belonged to someone with a size 14 foot. It was a hiking boot. The person messing with me is most likely a guy judging by the depth of the print. I do n't know if he means me any harm, or if this just his attempt to cow me into leaving. I'd be a fool to say I did n't think about it. I'm over thirty kliks from civilization with a large man taking joy in teasing me. If he realizes this too, I may be in trouble. A woman alone is a tempting target if this man turns out to be untrustworthy. I'm not gambling. Tonight, I'm taking some steps to safeguard my camp.
[ WP ] He was a large man , and would be hard to kill .	I knew he was following me. As soon as I stood up at the bar and moved through the crowd towards the door, he was following. He was thirty paces down the street, then twenty five. I was moving quickly, but he was gaining. He was not attempting stealth in the slightest. For three blocks, he stayed fairly steady and would not be shaken. I turned down an alley out of sight, yet he followed. He had raped three women in the past two weeks. Probably more, who knows what terrible things he had done throughout his life? I reached the end of the alley and turned to face him. He stumbled in my direction, eyes slightly glazed, reeking of whiskey. “ You ’ re a pretty little thing. What are you doing out here all alone? I think you need some company. ” He seemed a little farther gone that I would have liked. It wouldn ’ t be as much fun if he didn ’ t understand what was going on. Regardless, he was a large man and would be hard to kill… but I was determined. Clearly, I was at a disadvantage. My five foot two frame barely held one hundred thirty pounds. He towered over me, easily six feet tall, pushing two twenty. But I was fast. His first attempt at grabbing me was pathetic. I jumped back as he swung his fist at my head. I side stepped him and forced him to spin around. Alcohol and vertigo slowed his reactions. He came at me with both arms outstretched so I ducked down and kicked him square in the shin. I moved out of the way to the other side of the alley as he roared his displeasure, clinging his leg. I hadn ’ t expected him to be so loud, I didn ’ t want him to ruin my plan. I pulled out my knife and ran behind him. As I passed the leg he was favoring, I made a deep cut just above his ankle. I quickly moved out of the way when he came crashing down. He was flat on his face now. I seized the opportunity and jumped onto his back. Jamming my knife into his triceps, just below the deltoid, I twisted it. His torso thrashed up so I slammed his head back down, hearing his nose crunch. I stuck my knife in again, giving him matching back wounds. His attempts to get me off his back were weakening. He had lost a lot of blood, becoming even less coordinated. With a handful of hair I lifted his head and whispered into his ear. With one smooth move, I ran the blade across his neck and released his head. It fell to the side and I watched his face carefully. As the last light left his eyes, I allowed myself to feel satisfaction, if only for a moment. I quickly wiped the knife and tossed it behind the dumpster. God damned entitled prick. Wealth and fame convinced him he was untouchable. He was wrong. Dead wrong. As I left the alley, my heart did not feel any better. The damage he had already done would be irreversible. My sister would never be the same.
[ WP ] Write a sad story using only google searches	Best rated colleges How to get a good deal on first car Newest music How to get rid of acne. Slang terms Best classes to prepare for college How to get nerves under control How to fit in in high school Latest fashion trends How to dance Rave party dancing What do illegal pills look like How to get skinny Car insurance Raves in my area WebMD What drugs to avoid How to hide plagiarism Wolfram Best way to make money as a teenager WebMD What is the silkroad How to get into the deep web Raves in my area How to cover up marks with makeup Signs of addiction Signs of withdraw Effects of cocaine on the body Help with addiction Craigslist Best ways to make money unemployed Pickpocketing techniques Funny cats How to deal with withdraws Addiction centers WebMD Better studying techniques How to reference papers Tips for building resumés Concerts in my area Deep web browsers How to stop relapse Coping with depression Funny cats Addiction hotlines Combating withdraws Craigslist How high do insurance premiums go up with an accident Addiction hotline WebMD Craigslist Kelly blue book Punishment for theft as a minor Pawn shops in my area Average amount people OD on Is overdosing painful
[ WP ] PVP has been turned off for years . Everyone now knows , that no blade can pierce the skin with the INTENT to kill or harm . You are at the doctor getting a shot when the needle bends upon touching your upper arm ...	`` I know you do n't like injections but this will only take a moment,'' Doctor Sloan murmured, his tongue wedged between his teeth in concentration. He picked up a needle full of a clear liquid `` It's just a quick insertion into your antecubital -- you wo n't feel a thing.'' He squeezed the top of the syringe gently, letting out a tiny hiss of air along with a small ejaculation of the clear substance within. I rolled up my sleeve and closed my eyes as Doctor Sloan moved over to me. I could somehow sense the syringe approach my skin and I shivered. Little bumps raised on my skin -- goosebumps, my mom used to call them. She said it was a sign of someone walking over your grave. The syringe touched my skin but I did n't feel it pierce me, and I certainly did n't feel it insert its ejaculate into my bloodstream. The doctor had been right, it had been painless. Then I heard a tiny chink as something small must have fallen onto the floor. `` Thank you doctor.'' I said, opening my eyes to examine my arm for the inevitable wound and its accompanying trickle of blood. Only, there was no wound, no redness. The doctor's eyes were open wide in a look of surprise, or perhaps of panic. `` Doctor? Is everything O-'' my voice trailed off as I saw the broken syringe that sat between his fingers. `` Doctor?'' He remained still. `` Doctor... what exactly was in that syringe?'' I asked as panic and anger washed over me in gigantic waves. `` Try and remain calm Patrick, it was an accident. Something unwanted must have gotten into the syringe.'' His face was red and sweat leaked from his pores. He was lying. `` You tried to kill me? You must have had the intention to, or it would have killed me.'' `` Patrick, please. Try and remain calm, I can explain. I had no idea if it, what it would-'' `` But you must have suspected! You must have had intent! You tried to kill me!'' I shouted again, now fully enraged. With that three flashes of brilliant white light blinked inside the room. Light that represented an agreement between two consenting adults for a ten minute period of PvP. Light that had n't been seen for years. I quickly jumped off my seat. I grabbed the stethoscope that sat around the fat doctors neck. `` You tried to kill me.'' I repeated stupidly as I pulled the stethoscope tightly around his throat. It would be the first murder in three years, but there would be no punishment for it. PvP was legal. He gurgled as I lifted him off the ground. Spittle ran down from his mouh and tears flood his bloodshot eyes. For a brief moment I thought I could see a strange faint smile cross the doctors lips, before he finally stopped breathing. As the doctor fell to the floor, the lights flashed three times. -- - Plenty more WP responses on /r/nickofnight Edit: I'm not changing ejaculate
[ WP ] You 're a dragon who has fallen inlove with a knight so you keep kidnapping the princess so you can see him	'Fe Fi Fo Fum. Boiling caldera of spotty rum. Flying through the fiery night, Singing of this splendid blight.' I rasped as I breathed low over the terrified village, flames caressed by the gentle winds my sorcery kept blowing in the right directions, kindling tinder and embers alike. Smoke wafted up lazily, laden with nuance and shadow from the flames below, and sweet smells of morsels, toads and beasts of burden, cooking omelettes for my undisputed consumption. Or not. Should I have cared? What can I say, it was a warm up for the main show. If I was right, they should be along soon. My food-on-two-legs. My objets d'interet. My passion and my pastime. And that other one. I flew up to a dry ledge, painted black with soot from the charred remains below, and belched a wee fireball. This was gassy business. With a lazy flick of my... wrist, I summoned one of my minions. 'Yes, your Huffiness?', came a voice from the shadows. Perpetually cringing sordid sycophant I will bur..no. Not today. Temper, temper. What is it the woman at the agency said? Good minions are hard to find. Also something about bananas. 'No', I said. ( Huffed, the minion rather thought. )'I am not Bigby, or any of his tiresome ilk.' Unfurling a fraction of my neck to tower over the creature, I thundered. 'And what of them? Are they still of playing with those tiresome elves?' 'No, your Touchiness. Hyrule burns, the adversary and that other wyrm seek to take each other for matched foes over that patch of fairy dust. The ones you seek are on their way here.' Interesting developments, indeed. But if the wretched creature intended to distract me with stories of other worms, it was to be sorely disappointed.'Go finish the preparations', I instructed it. The castle was secure. The hedgehog's stolen ring I had safely tucked in between two scales. The other ring I slipped on a finger, it fit like it had been made for it. And I vanished. The eye burned in the distant distance, and I paid it scant attention. In this form I shifted form, choosing one more yellow and... appropriate. I walked into the village, flames dancing around me, no more annoying toads interrupting my pacing, impatience concealed beneath anger. I took the ring off and melted it with my flames. I had other precious things. Tonight, they'd be mine, or they wouldn't..be. Any more. A bomb came flying out of the smoke. No warning. None needed. I caught it in my hand, palm starving the fuse of the oxygen it needed. The round creature sizzled in my hand, full of impotent fury. I laughed. 'Hello Wifey.' 'its been a while, you flamin' arse', she said. Stepping out from behind the crinkling remains of what looked like a house-stool.'Still looking like absolute crap, I see.' 'Well, your holiness, did you come here to get kidnapped again?', I taunted, reminding her of castles and earlier days. Beneath her heat-pinkened skin, she reddened.'No more banter', she snapped. Drawing out a staff with a star circumscribed upon its winged head. She flipped a card in front of it, and mouthed something, and the wind united and barreled at him, with all the force of a metal battering ram. He pulled out yet another ring, a green one, and slipped it on, forming a green wall in front of him. A wall as strong as his will. And few things are as strong as a dragon's will. The ineffectual wind petered out, squall and breeze running off crying to the north wind. He let down the wall, and tossed the ring into the flames. As rings went, fairly low production value. Better off among the pool of dead.'What's up next, princess? Are you going to put out the flames with your tears again?'* The battle raged on for a while. Tricks and smashes giving way to feints and thrusts. Parried one and all. She seemed to be tiring, I felt the excitement building up. Then I noticed the tears in her clothes that were n't mine. The circles under her eyes from not enough sleep. Perhaps it was my humanoid form that made me notice these things. Argh, annoying. Fine. Fyn. Fineargh. I'll cease I'll stop stomping starsneargh. I could n't fight myself. Could n't FightFightMYrself. Self Portttreaight of THE artist in a time of War. Okay. Deep Breath. 'What is it?', she said. She looked genuinely concerned. I wondered for a fleeting moment what the expression on my face looked like. Or what my face looked like. 'What happened to you? Why do you fight me, in this pitiful state?', I asked. It was supposed to sound commiserating, it came out as a raspy taunt. 'I'm enough to fight you, in any state, you sodden worm.', she said. Completely misunderstanding. As she was so wont to. Always, it happened, perhaps. 'Fine. Guess I'll find out the hard way.', I said, rising up, assuming my true form, flattening what was left of the village with great beats of my leathery wings. Ancalagon the Black could n't have done it better. I rose, and rose, till she became aught but a speck in my vision, and then dropped down. I saw her put up a shield, but it was of no use. Nothing was of any use when I did this. I dropped down, till my face was a few feet from hers. And then I let my anger, my rage, my frustration, my fire, loose. I did n't hold back. Almost. And then I did. I do n't remember the next few moments. I came to a few feet from where she lay, only her chest rising and falling serving as any indication of her still being alive. Fine. It'll do. He'd be along soon now. This was probably for the best. I picked her up as gently as I could and I flew to the edge of the village, a black silhouette set awash by flames waiting, as patiently as the panserbjorne for him. With all my hope, all my love, fierce as unyielding as the day we first battled. My sparring partner, and the only hope for resolving this conflict before the larger one. Either we would stand united in the coming fight, or we would both perish tonight. The old one was right, it was long past time. I made the princess sleep better with a slight spell, and let her rest as comfortably as circumstances would allow. And I heard a footfall behind me. I turned to see him. Tired and worn, beyond fatigue, and yet ready for the fight. He always was. My heart bled molten magma. I bowed. There was nothing to be said. He tipped his cap at me, wiped his hands on the trademark blue overalls, and said, 'Its me. Mario.'** -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Peach was sufficiently pissed at this point to have tried to fight dragon with dragon. However, the Khaleesi would n't loan hers. Because someone* does n't like fanfiction. **Now come on you wizard, you sphinx, you cap'n, you monster, and Shine!
[ WP ] A horror story about a monster that can only be hit in places that are exposed to sunlight	When the hole we crawled through caved in, I knew we would never survive. We had been climbing when we saw a hole, about ten feet wide, Randy said something like, `` Hey, a cave! Let's explore it!'' So we did for some reason. I should have said something like, `` Let's avoid the hole in the ground, it does n't look safe.'' But I did n't, I wanted to enjoy my time with my friends before we all went off to college. I was regreting agreeing to explore the cave. We set an anchor on a large rock that jutted out of the ground. Out of the five of us, I went second. Repelling down into the dark hole. With our flashlights and lanterns showed the cave. It was a large cavern and it had narrower tunnels, three of them, leading somewhere else in the cave. It was a thirty foot drop from the hole to the ground. I was six feet from the floor when we fell. The rock that we had tied the rope around moved. We could feel it. `` Hurry!'' Jasmine shouted. There was a rumble and what sounded like an explosion. Rock hitting rock could be heard throughout the chamber. Then, we fell. Jasmine was already standing whenever the rest of us fell. I hit the ground hard. I heard my shoulder make a loud POP. I screamed in pain. Then Jarrod landed on me. All the air rushed out of me but in my panic I managed to crawl to my left just as Andrew landed on Jarrod. I pulled on the rope that tied us together and Jarrod and Andrew quickly scanned away when Randy hit the ground. His impact was different. He was the furthest up, so he hit the ground the hardest. He gave a sickening thud and his body bounced, about four inches off the floor. `` Shit!'' Andrew yelled. I undid my harness but as soon as I did, the rocks hit Randy. It was first a small pebble, but then the big rock came down. It was the size of a smart car, and must have weighed 1000 pounds. It landed right on Randy. There was a sickening SQUISH as the rock flattened Randy. If he somehow survived the impact, he had to be dead now. The cavern was silent for a moment. The first sound was Jasmine. `` Randy!'' She screamed and ran to his body. `` Oh God...'' I trembled. I felt arms wrap around melt shoulders, Andrew. We all somehow stumbled to Randy's body. The only part of him you could see was his arm, and his blood. Blood leaked from the rock, pooling around his arm. Then, the tears. Jasmine and I began to cry. It took us a long time, but we managed to stop the flow of tears. I looked back at Andrew and wrapped my arms around him. Well, I tried to, my right arm sent a sharp, burning pain down my arm. I stifled a scream and pulled back from Andrew. My arm hung at an awkward angle, I felt up and down my arm to check for breaks. It was n't broken, so it had to be dislocated. `` Loren, are you okay?'' Andrew asked me. I shook my head and pointed to my arm. Andrew was going to college to be a doctor, so he knew a few things about dislocations. I murmured something about my arm being dislocated so he walked over to me and grabbed my arm. `` I'll set it,'' he said, `` one three. One. Two.'' He popped the joint pack in place. I screamed. I moved my arm, it hurt, but it was a lingering pain. It would n't last long. `` We need to check our supplies, see how we're getting out of here.'' Jarrod said. We quickly looked over our supplies, it was n't much. We had a climbing axe, some rope, and a lantern. All of our flashlights broke in the fall and even the lantern's glass surrounding the light was broken. `` Well, at least we're alive.'' Said Andrew. `` Tell that to Randy.'' Muttered Jasmine. I picked up the lantern and looked around again. In one of the tunnels was a shadow. The tunnels were about half a football field away so the lantern did n't illuminate that far. Before I could say anything about the shadow, it began to move. Closer. I squeaked something like, `` Look.'' Andrew turned around and he took a step back. The shadow was no longer moving towards us slowly, it was moving fast. So fast. It was ten feet away from us when it let loose a sound. It was like a scream mixed with a roar. The thing was milky white, it had long, curly horns, and had sharp claws. Jarrod stepped forward as if to protect us, he was a large dude, but this thing was seven feet tall. It's claws ripped his stomach open. In the dim light of the lantern I saw Jarrod's intestines spill out of his guts. He collapsed onto the floor and the thing dug it's claws into Jarrod's back and dragged him away from the light. I heard his screams accompanied by the crunching of bones. Eventually the screams tapered off. But we gripped the climbing axe, waiting for the thing to return. It did n't for a long while. When it did, we thought we were ready. Was slit into different parts. We hoped that it would confuse the thing. It was n't confused. It tilted it's head like a dog and then let loose another roar scream. It ran straight towards Andrew, with the climbing axe. Andrew swung the climbing axe towards the thing, aimed right at its pale head. The axe went right through it, like it was a shadow. The thing slashed with its claws towards Andrew, he barely managed to dodge the swipe. He swung with the axe again, the it went through the head again, but the hole from cavern's roof shine with sunlight, hitting the creature's arm. When the axe hit the arm, it knocked the arm away, spinning the thing. Andrew thought he could now hit the creature and swung again. And it passed through the creature again. The creature reared it's head and opened its jaws. It's `` jaws'' were it's face, it split into four sections and bit Andrew's head. It bit right through his neck. The now headless Andrew was being drug to the tunnels. I screamed. The thing stopped, looked at me, tilted it's head, and screamed. Then it continued carrying away the body. We climbed on top of the rock that flattened Randy and felt the warmth of the sun on our faces. It came back around noon. This time, I had the climbing axe. It scrambled onto the rock. The sun illuminated is translucent skin. Veins were a greenish color. It towered over us, splitting its face into its four symmetric quarters. I swung the axe and it sank into its leg. It made no sound, it looked at its leg, blood leaking around the axe, and looked back up at me. It swung it's claws at me. I let go if the axe and rolled to the side, avoiding the claws. Jasmine rushed forward and wrapped her hands around the grip and pulled. Pale flesh hung from its leg as its red blood poured over its white leg. As she retreated with the axe, it struck her back. Blood coated the rock, making it slick. She fell forward as blood spurted from her back, she slid me the axe. The creature lunged for Jasmine, not using its right leg and slipped on the blood-slick rock. It crawled towards her then began to rip her apart. She screamed as it used its claws to open her up and began to gorge on her innards. It shot its gaze back towards me. It crawled for me but I swung the axe again and again, keeping the thing back. It got tired of my game and it lunged towards me. I did n't have time to swing my axe. Its arm ran me through. It felt like a white hot rod going through my sternum. I felt my blood run down its arm. It squealed in delight as it slowly crawled towards me. I slowly lifted the axe and swung it. The point dig into its temple. The impact pushed it aside, ripping the axe from my grip. It's arm was ripped out of my stomach. I felt my blood, my life, flow out of me. I collapsed onto the blood-slick rock. It hurt so much. But the pain was gradually subsiding. I was dying, I felt it. I began to cry. It was n't fair. Slowly my crying grew quieter. Until it was completely silent. My mouth opened and closed like a fish. I always hoped that there was an afterlife, but I did n't see anything now, all I saw, was nothing.
Four brother princes vie for the right to rule . One commands the hearts of men , one has power over demons , one enslaves the dead , and one can control himself [ WP ]	The glazed pastries were slumped together in such a fashion that one looked to be falling over, Buddhu figuring he could reach over as if he were to adjust it, and then casually take it for himself. No, he thought. I do n't need it. I do n't even want it. `` There is no need for war,'' Ventrillius said, and his royal guard hurrah-ed in agreement. The footsoldiers, who supplemented the demon guard around Cerebrie, also agreed with Ventrillius, and moved thusly over to his side of the long table the four brothers sat around. `` We shall put it to a vote.'' Buddhu touched a single finger to the pastry nearest him before withdrawing it quickly, saying, `` I do n't even want the throne. I do n't even need it.'' `` Join me, then,'' Ventrillius said to Buddhu. Though a prince, Buddhu was still a mere man, and so shrugged and agreed, for he loved his brother. Vex, too, agreed that Ventrillius should rule, for his brother had his heart the same as all throughout the land did. Having had only the company of demons for the greater part of his life, Cerebrie was not so easily swayed. `` I have no quarrel with you, brother,'' he began, `` but I command an army of demons which would lay waste upon any man you sent to defy my rule. I will take the crown for myself, as is my right; there is nothing you can do to convince me, for my heart died with my wife. You know this.'' Vex stood, gesturing to the rear of the room. `` You mean, this wife?'' And there Cerebrie's late wife appeared, rotting and hobbling, a decrepit hand moving up to brush away stringy hair from a sallow and sunken-in face. Ventrillius was about to chide Vex in horror, but noticed the flame had gone from Cerebrie's eyes, that he looked upon the shambling monster with a softness. `` Join me, and we shall rule as brothers under the same united crown,'' Ventrillius began slowly, ``... with... your wife at your side.'' `` Yes,'' Cerebrie nodded in a trance. `` Yes, I shall serve under you.'' `` Really?'' Buddhu exclaimed. `` Even in her condition?'' Cerebrie, lord of the underworld, ruler of demons, replied, `` I've fucked much worse.''
[ IP ] Over the Mountains	`` Is our life not like the mountain? ” said the giant of a man, Ulrich, laughing a deep bellowing laugh. “ Treacherous, foreboding, yet larger than life itself. ” We ’ d carted for weeks through terrains not a single soul had seen in more than ten years. But, trade to Alcarta was open again, and if anyone was going to make the trek it would be us. We just hadn ’ t accounted for the mountain. `` Bedah, you tryin ’ ta tell me that ya didn ’ t know there were a mountain here. ” Hauk said, one hand on Bedah ’ s collar and the other pointing toward the mountain. “ These horses ain ’ t fit for a mountain. ” `` I— ” Bedah, who was proving to be a terrible guide, struggled for words. In his defense, he was a last minute addition to the crew, and had been rushed to draw up a map from memory. Ten year old memory tends to slip a bit, and it seemed Bedah had, in fact, forgotten about the mountain. `` It ’ s a mountain! ” Cried Hauk, letting go of his collar. `` Oh, get over it, Hauk. ” Ulrich said. “ We ’ re all going to have to get over it. There doesn ’ t seem to be a way around it. ” Ulrich and Hauk joined the caravan early on. They ’ d worked together for as long as either of them could remember, and neither was willing to split for six King ’ s Silver. So, they shared, three and three. Ulrich could lift just about anything, and even liked giving the horses breaks from pulling the wagons. Not a thief in the world would mess with a man who pulled a wagon. Hauk was smaller, but big in his own right. He may not break your skull if you picked a fight, but he ’ d sure break your spirit. The wagons began to move again. We had three, all filled with goods, bought by merchant re-sellers in Alcarta. I sat on the back of the last wagon in line, sharpening my arrows, and thinking about my father. A short time previous to our trek, he ’ d come down with an incurable illness that our people called Devil ’ s Death. It was aptly named, as it slowly turned the eyes yellow and the skin reddish before killing its victim. I watched my father fade, as I searched tirelessly for a way to stop it. Then, I found promise. A sage in town said he ’ d found a treatment, but it would take the leaves of a tree that ’ s only known to grow in Count Merrowin ’ s heavily guarded courtyard. So, my mother and I struck a deal with him to get a shipment to Alcarta in return for enough leaves to make the medicine. However, if we didn ’ t return he would take my own mother as a bride. The wagon hit a rock and I fell to the dirt. `` Are you okay? ” Bedah said, helping me up. Bone dug into my side. He was scrawny, and, come to think of it, I can ’ t remember seeing him eat the whole trip. `` I ’ m fine. I just wasn ’ t paying attention. ” `` Worry not. We will make it over the mountain, my friend. We will save your father. ” He put one hand on my shoulder, and raked through his wiry black beard with the other. “ Ulrich is correct, you know. Our lives are like the mountain. The ups and downs. The uncertainty. The excitement, and the inevitable pain. It ’ s simple. Beautiful really. ” `` I know. I ’ m just thinking about the other side. ”
[ WP ] An inventor is killed for their invention .	Bernard scrambled for the door, blood dripping from the gash in his forehead. His good arm hung limp at his side, broken in at least two places. He winced as he forced the useless hand into the fingerprint machine, praying the blood would not taint the reading. Red flashed to welcoming green and he stumbled inside, slamming the heavy door closed as soon as he was over the threshold. The sterile glow of the black lights bathed the inventor in their signature deep bluish-purple. Bernard propped himself up against the fridge, cradling his broken limb to his heaving chest. He tossed his mangled glasses aside – the missing left lens and twisted earpiece left them just as useless as his good arm – and closed his eyes. He would be safe here. Heavy boot prints on the linoleum broke the silence. Thump thump thump. “ There ’ s no need to hide behind that door, doctor, ” came the husky voice of Colton Derrick, muffled by the steel between them. “ Come out and let ’ s talk it over like men. ” Bernard kept quiet. “ Fine, ” Derrick grunted. “ Guess we ’ re doing it my way, then. ” The thick treads of the military man ’ s boot smashed into the small window in the door. Crumpled glass rained down from above, peppering the floor. The window ’ s metal lattice, though dented, remained intact. Bernard breathed a sigh of relief as the alarm sounded. He opened his eyes just in time to see the gleaming black barrel of Derrick ’ s gun wiggle itself through the crooked steel frame. “ I don ’ t have to see to hit you, doctor. Who knows where a stray bullet – let loose in that metal box – will end up? ” Bernard ’ s heart sank. The alarm would bring no relief. His last line of defense was compromised; the weapon that peeked through the window should have been protecting him. He struggled to his feet and released the pressure lock. The door hissed open. Colton Derrick towered over the injured doctor, the smug look of success on his face. “ Where is it? ” Bernard pointed to the painting at the far end of the lab. Derrick nodded. He grabbed the back of the Bernard ’ s collar and dragged him across the room. The doctor struggled, but he might as well have been fighting against a crane for all the good it did. Derrick tore the picture from the wall, sending the Virgin Mary crashing to the linoleum floor below. He forced Bernard ’ s broken arm up to the fingerprint scanner, drawing a yelp of agony from the doctor. Red flashed to green and the brawny man wrenched open the safe ’ s door. He fumbled around inside for a moment before withdrawing the device. The laser ’ s smooth cover glimmered in the lab lights. Where most would need two to steady the device, Derrick held it easily in one hand. “ Has it been tested yet? ” Bernard shook his head, wincing as a lance of pain shot up through his shoulder. Derrick stepped back from the doctor, a wicked smile on his face. “ You understand, of course. Can ’ t risk my own men ’ s well-being. ” He pointed the laser at Bernard and pulled the trigger. Nothing. The doctor chuckled. “ It ’ s a prototype, Derrick. The laser hasn ’ t been weaponized yet. You have nothing. ” But the wicked grin refused to fade from Colton Derrick ’ s face. He shifted the device in his hand, gripping the smooth part and waving the bulky end at Bernard. “ Not quite nothing, doctor. What ’ s that they say about necessity? ” His muscles surged as he brought the weapon down upon Bernard ’ s head. -035
[ WP ] Describe the few seconds just before a dad is about to pull the trigger and kill his whole family . Make us feel sorry for him .	He woke up in the middle of the night, his head splitting. Those voices, those God damned voices rattling of in his head like bullets. Electric wire strung its way through his head stinging everything they touched. He resisted the voices for so long, his loving wife was always able to talk them down, soothe them into calm submission. Tonight was different. The voices were too loud, he could feel breath coming from some unknown mouth lingering closely behind, burning his skin with a demonic chill. His wife could n't stop them tonight. He was going to take things into his own hands and stop the voices once and for all! The children, the voices always acted up around his step children. Got ta get rid of them, get rid of the voices. Too loud too close too much got ta go. He swiftly slipped the double barrel from under the bed, Connor's room first. BAM! Nonononono.. Voices still there, got ta get Brittany now, got ta get rid of voices. Open the door slowly, so as not to wake her. BLAM! Why? They're still there, still itching in my head. How will they go away? I just want you to go away! Head spinning. Ringing in my ears. Or sirens. Wait. What did I do? Brittany, hon, you okay? She's still breathing. Oh God. What happened? `` Still want us gone?'' the sickly voice cackled.
[ WP ] Coins retain wishes . When you throw one in a fountain , you might get your wish , or a previous wisher 's wish . You have a very old coin .	Fingering my grandfather's old coin with anticipation, I stepped out of the Hotel Lazuli and made my way to the grand fountain that greeted me every day I came in for work. I had just finished my final shift as the night doorman. Customer service always irritated me. Fake smiles and accomodating every last request of every last person who walked through that door had grated against my being for seven years and I'd had enough. Even though I had always led a cautious life and rarely made a move without a safety net or two I was willing to take a risk this time. People online were talking about their wishes coming true and it had just hit the news. All over the world coins being thrown into fountains were granting wishes of every shape and size. Modeling careers were taking off, bank records everywhere were going haywire, and even a few people were spontaneously getting superpowers. No one could explain it, but the only things people could figure out were that it did n't always work and that occasionally you would get someone else's wish; the older the coin the more likely a wish would be granted but there was also a higher chance of it being someone else's. The Hotel Lazuli's front entrance had been crowded with people from all walks of life, some with large bags of coins, all of them hoping for something better than the life they led. The coin felt heavy in my grip. From what my grandfather told me as a child I knew that he had found it on the sidewalk and, after picking it up, ran right into my grandmother meeting her for the first time. Like the protagonists in a modern-day romantic comedy they hit it off immediately and fell in love. He had confided in me that, until that point, his life had been a wreck and he had simply been wishing for something to give him reason to keep going. My family treated it as an heirloom, but I selfishly hoped the coin would turn my life around with just one wish. Stopping in front of the water's edge, I flipped the coin in my fingers one last time. It was a curious thing, seemingly made of bronze and obviously not legal currency in any modern country. I brought it to an historian friend once and he said his optimistic guess was that it came from Ancient Rome but it was so worn that it was worthless and could very well be just an old AA sobriety token. Regardless of the age, if it was going to give me a better life I was ready to throw it in. With a simple flick of my thumb and a whispered plea, the coin hurtled down to the water. I could swear I heard a strange sound as it plunked in, but I had no time to think about it as I felt the ground rumble beneath me and I flew forward into the fountain. There was a loud ringing in my ears and I broke the surface of the water, blinking to clear my vision. As the ringing subsided I could hear screaming around me. Looking up, I saw the hotel was on fire. It looked like something blew up on the ground floor, likely one of the aging water heaters that the stingy owners refused to replace because it would cut into their profits. Everyone was backing away from the building, some pulling out their phones to call the emergency hotline, some crying and screaming for loved ones, and others frantically throwing more coins into the fountain hoping to fix it through willpower alone. Without thinking, I started climbing out of the fountain and made a mad dash into the inferno. I do n't know what drove me to my certain death but I felt something within me shouting that I needed to help. The fire was everywhere, smoke billowing out from all corners of the lobby. Still wearing my old uniform, I tore off my jacket and pulled my wet undershirt over my nose and mouth, making my way to the grand staircase. People were stumbling out of their rooms, some of them bleeding profusely from all sorts of wounds. I cupped my hands and shouted over the crackling flames, `` Everyone! Head this way! The front door is over here!'' A few people looked up at me, still in shock, but started stumbling towards the stairs and making their way to the exit. Thankfully the flames were still contained away from the entrance but it did n't look like it would stay that way for long. Knowing that the elevators would have automatically shut down by now I ran to the emergency stairs to direct the other guests out. I could barely see as I rushed down the halls, but thankfully seven years of working at the same place had ingrained its layout into my memory. Smoke filled my lungs and I began frantically coughing to breathe but it got harder with every step. Adrenaline coursed through my veins as I threw open the stairwell door. People flooded out past me, clutching clothes and belongings close to their chests. I looked past them and saw that the emergency exit on this side had jammed, making my door their only way out. Holding it open, I helped those that stumbled to their feet and shouted directions to the lobby and their salvation. Minutes later I could feel my throat growing hoarse from the smoke and the shouting. I heard a cracking sound above me and, without thinking, I shoved the next family away from the door as the ceiling collapsed. Steel beams and insulation blocked the stairwell and I could hear screaming and crying from the other side. Everyone else had already run off, leaving me alone to help these poor folks. I reached for the nearest beam to move it and flinched away as the scorching surface burned my hands. Thinking quickly, I tore off my pants and wrapped the legs around my hands to give some sort of barrier between me and the hot metal. It still hurt when I grasped the beam but I was able to bear it as I worked every muscle in my body to remove this barrier. Screaming, I tugged on the beam as hard as I could and felt it start to budge. More rubble rained down on my head and the smoke had completely filled the hallway making it impossible to see, but I did not falter. With one last pull I could feel the barrier loosen and a hole formed, large enough for the screaming masses to climb through. One by one, man, woman, and child made their way through the opening as I shouted directions once more. As the pouring out of survivors died down to a trickle, I stayed to make sure that every last one made it out. Peeking through the hole to ensure no one was left behind, I turned to make my own escape before hearing another loud boom and being thrown against the wall. I opened my eyes to only blackness. I could n't move, could n't feel anything except for the pounding in my head. In the distance I thought I heard voices and rustling. I could only assume I was dead, about to be lifted into the heavens by the angels. I had wished for a better life and was rewarded with death. A death that could have been avoided if I had only had the goddamn common sense not to run into a burning building. As I lay in that dark void I saw an image form in my mind, a memory not my own though it felt like a part of me. A beggar on the streets of an ancient city, fingering a gleaming coin and tossing it into the carved fountain in front of him. As it fell in he pleaded, `` Make me a hero.''
[ WP ] It 's the closing of WWII in Europe . You , a senior allied commander , have in your possession , under lock and key , Adolf Hitler . Now what ?	General George Smith Patton made his way to the holding cell where they were keeping the most hated man in the world: Adolf Hitler. They had captured the Fuhrer before he could commit suicide ( or before the Russians got to him first ). Patton's impressions of Hitler were just as expected: Small, but arrogant. The general had n't come to profile the Nazi bastard, as he would put it. He had come to exact vengeance. Vengeance in the name of the millions of victims he had created. Every day, new reports came in from one of these `` death camps''. Patton never thought his contempt for Hitler could sink to such depths. But here he was, face to face with the man who once held all of Europe in his iron fist. Patton ordered the MPs to leave him alone with the Fuhrer, as he removed his Colt.45 from its holster and slowly took aim at Hitler, who at this point had been silent, but now proceeded to empty his bowels. A shot rang out.
[ CW ] Rewrite a popular nursery rhyme as if it were composed by a bureaucrat	City Health Department Occupational Safety and Health Administration Inspection Number: 181923 Inspection Dates ( s ): 12/12/2015-12/12/2015 Issuance Date: 12/12/2015 Citation and Notification of Penalty Company Name: Hickory Dickory Dock, Bar and Grill Inspection Site: 1322 Goose Lane, Smithville, WI 53221 Citation 2 Item 3 Type of Violation: Serious 34 FR 1878.1044 ( d ) ( 1 ) ( iv ): Mouse was observed running up clock. About one pm, the mouse ran down again. Rodent infestation witnessed during inspection. ( a ) The company had not used exterminator to remove said rodent infestation. Must be corrected by 1/15/2016 or further citation will be warranted. Date by which Violation must be Abated: 1/15/2016 Proposed Penalty: $ 300.00 Fran Bupkis Inspector
[ WP ] The hero stands before the beast , gripping a sword tightly . But the `` hero '' is very clumsy , and the monster 's a pacifist .	`` F-foul beast! I have come to slay you!'' the warrior declared, his voice echoing through the huge cave before him. The dragon raised her sleepy head to get a look at her uninvited visitor. The `` warrior'' was wearing cheap shoddy armour and holding a sword that did n't even look like it could cut leather, let alone a dragon's scales. She let out a lazy lawn and tried to go back to sleep. `` You dare take me lightly, creature?!'' The warrior charged forward... and tripped on a goat skeleton, leftovers of the dragon's most recent meal. He hastily picked himself up and continued his charge. He hacked and slashed at the dragon, all of his strikes glancing off her scales harmlessly. She watched as this poor, pathetic excuse of a warrior wasted his energy, barely giving her a light tickle with his blunt sword. She sighs. `` GON NA KILL YOU! TAKE YOUR HEAD!'' the warrior hollered between strikes. `` PRESENT IT! TO THE KING! I'LL BE A HERO! GON NA BE RICH! AND FAMOUS! MARRY THE PRINCESS! AAAAAAAARGH!!'' She blew lightly at him. He stumbled backwards and landed on his rear. `` ARE YOU MAKING FUN OF ME?'' She stared back at him with pity. She had gone through all the trouble of finding a nice cave that was dozens of miles away from the closest human settlement, and had never in the last hundred years messed with any of them or their livestock. In fact there were n't any dragon bounties at the present time, last she heard. She curled up and went back to sleep, trying her best to ignore the silly desperate human.
[ WP ] All of your pets die in ironic ways . Smokey the dog died in a fire , Sugar the cat died of diabetes , etc . This time you 've named your pet something a little ... unconventional .	The paparazzi gathered around as he exited Cate's Critters. It was a slow day in Hollywood sometime in the early 90s. `` Okay, thank you, okay, okay,'' he said, as he brought the little cardboard carrier to his car, pushing past the small group of photographers. `` What'd you get? Open the box, let us see,'' someone called out. `` How'bout a cute shot together,'' another said. `` Yeah, how'bout it, Mr. Gere.'' `` It's a pet for my wife,'' Richard said. `` Come on guys, could you...? Thanks, I have to get going. I'm sure you have better things to do than to photograph me at buying a gerbil.'' `` A name. Can you give us a name? That's all. Something to print,'' a photographer said. Richard paused, his arm draped over the door to his Mercedes. `` I was thinking of calling him Felchy. How's that?'' he said, ducking into the car and driving away. `` Was he sitting on a hemorrhoid pillow?'' one photographer asked the other. `` I think so.'' `` What's that about?'' `` I do n't know, Jimmy. I do n't know. But somethin' tells me, this is gon na be big.''
[ WP ] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them . When you receive yours it says simply `` Welcome to Starbucks . Can I take your order ? ''	As the darkness began to cloud my vision, I smiled. I was going to break the system. I've always been a lone wolf, despise authority, et cetera. My parents kept saying that it was a phase, but I never grew out of it. I started playing the corporate game at age 17 when I found a way to exploit the corporate system. I never developed any useful talents or skills, but I'm a good social engineer. It turns out that every company needs a fall guy when they know things are going bad. This is where my special talent comes into play. They hire me secretly, giving me dossiers on key people in the company. I quickly acclimate, inserting myself into multiple social circles, building proper back story on my long time role in the company. Maybe I just moved from the Orlando office, or maybe I've grown tired of the IT caverns and changed to a more social position. At any rate, when things hit the fan a month later, I'm in the perfect position for half the company to know it was my fault. I take my silver parachute and leave, making employees and investors feel like justice was done. On to the next company. By the time my Telling came at age 18, I was already quite rich, and almost ignored it, not really wanting a soul mate. Those things hold you back. I looked out of curiosity more than anything. `` Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?'' Avoiding coffee is hard to do in the corporate world, where it seems like people spend half their day obtaining, drinking, and talking about the stuff. But I spent several years doing just that. It's tiring. You know where corporations are? All over the place. You know where Starbucks is? All over the place. Life became a minefield. I quit two years ago at the age of 25, still single. It would probably be a world record - in this age, it seemed like people were pretty much all married before 20. The Telling made it easier. I traveled, which is also hard to do with Starbucks all over the place, but I saw everything I needed to. Gradually, a plan came together. You see, the Telling has rules. Rule number one is that if you get a Telling, it is guaranteed to happen. If you do n't get one, it means you will be single or not live long enough. It's a time/physics thing; we wanted time travel and jetpacks, we wound up with the Telling instead. Something about emotional spikes allowing unidirectional temporal displacement, or something like that. Rule number two is that if you get a Telling, your counterpart also gets one, also guaranteed to happen. And that's it. Which brings me to this moment. I was done with life, accomplishing everything I cared about. One last big exploit, and my target would be the Telling. I got my Telling. That means the Starbucks lady got hers too. One illicit prescription later, and I would break the system. I do n't know how many pills I took, but it would be enough. ... Consciousness?... What is going on? I looked... down? Inward? I'm not sure, but I saw myself on a medical bed, doctors around me, nurses hurrying nearby. They were shocking me. Weird, I thought. Nobody should have even found me. A doctor declared me dead less than a minute later. I saw it happen. I never believed in ghosts or religion, so what is this? I wandered around. I found I could go anywhere, see anything. I met no other... ghosts? beings? spirits? Lonely, but worked for me, lone wolf and all. I satsified my curiosity about people. I'd watch them while they were alone. People are mainly pretty boring when they're alone. Was I this boring? Was there something ever watching me, wishing I had more entertainment value? Over the years ( decades? ), I saw a lot of Tellings. Lots of instant romances blossom. I had hacked the system, sure, but I started to see how happy these people became once they met. Was I ever this happy? One day while in a new neighborhood I saw a girl laying on her bed, crying hard. Other than the naughtier things people do and vegging out on television, this was probably the most commonplace thing I saw people do, so I had long learned to wait it out and get some juicy gossip. I looked around, and she generally seemed put together. Academic awards, lots of travel pictures, tons of family things. I never did a whole lot with my family, but this girl seemed to have a pretty active one. Graduation robe still laying across a desk chair. Maybe she's sad because she's leaving friends behind? I watched her for awhile. She was actually very beautiful despite the tears. Eventually she collected herself, and went to clean up. I perused the rest of her house. All pretty normal stuff. I popped into houses around the neighborhood, nothing really interesting. Curiosity getting to me, I went back to check on the girl. She was talking on the phone to someone. `` Yeah, it's my first day, so I've got to go.'' A pause. `` No, I'll be ok, I promise. I do n't even know what it means anyway. Have to keep moving ahead!'' She got up, and walked to her mirror, grabbing her keys and a small bag. `` You can do this!'' she said in the mirror. `` You're going to be the best worker there!'' How adorable. She really was endearing. `` Ok, one more practice. Welcome to Starbucks, can I take your order?'' If I had a heart, it would have skipped a beat at that moment. What did she say? `` Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?'' It was then I noticed the envelope on her floor... THE envelope, the one everyone looks to on their 18th birthday. It was her Telling. I looked around, and saw the card on her bed I looked closely. It was blank.
[ EU ] You find out that your old elementary school teacher has passed away . You drop everything to go to the funeral , catch up with your childhood friends you have n't seen in years , and pay respects to the dearly departed Miss Frizzle .	`` So how did you know her?'' A voice said in a somber tone. `` She was my old teacher.'' I replied. `` Oh, I'm sorry, we kinda started without you.'' `` It's ok'' I said. `` I did n't really know her that well anyways'' I say in a calm voice. Then, with my eyes fixed on her coffin, I raised my head to the sky letting out a sigh of exhaustion knowing what I had to do next. With one deep breath I let out saying `` I'll pick up the cake'' `` Alright partner sounds good, we got people dancin' already so hurry back, we just gettin' started!''
[ WP ] Famous movie directors take turns directing different parts of your life .	Have you ever wondered what it would be like to turn your life into a movie? It's not fun. Trust me, I know. When I was a kid, my parents signed a deal with Universal Studios to turn my life into a series of movies. Apparently bi-yearly `` In The Life Of'' was exactly what the studio needed to compete with Disney. My dramatic rollercoaster of a life, on screen for everyone to see. Now, my early teenage years were explosive to say the least. When I sat down with a man called Michael Bay, he told me he wanted explosions and big running scenes, as a metaphor for running away from my problems or something. Now, as a teenager that loved reading, this was n't exactly the ideal hero he was after. So I took up running. I got up early and run every other morning, and got pretty good at it. `` Now Brian,'' Bay told me during our meeting, `` There might be a number of pyrotechnics and fireworks dotted around your neighbourhood this year. The emergency departments have been informed but if you notice one, just run in the opposite direction.'' Of course I laughed and shrugged my shoulders. `` Cool man.'' All off the camera, all very casual. `` Oh and Brian.'' He reminded me, `` No big character pieces okay? You need to be really idiotic, none of this intelligence stuff okay?'' The things you do for showbiz. The actual day the explosions started, they got old real fast, but I tried hard not to let it show. The absolute glee and delight in Michael Bay's face was like a child on the first day of Christmas. Now, the thing with Bay was his inability to tone everything down. It was so full on. Trees would explode as I run in the morning, a school bus tipped over during a busy T section and proceeded to explode and all the while there's me, running away from these explosions while the camera crew chased after me. Every day. For a year. To be honest, I was glad when Michael Bay left the helm. The next guy to take over was a man called Tim Burton. I'd heard mixed things about him and the three year deal he signed with Universal was a sign of the pace change I was in for. This was the year I was introduced to Johnny Depp. A strange guy who insisted he play a part in my life with Tim Burton in charge. His extravagant, physical acting and his inability not to call me `` William'' was a little disconcerting but we soon got into a rhythm and put on some pretty interesting dialogue together. Insisting I always wear green, I later found out Burton had turned me into a caricature of myself during these years. A hideously twisted, nightmarish creature with long, stick-like legs and an inhuman mouth filled with sharp teeth but somehow still `` lovable'' and in no way a bad guy which surprised me. When I questioned about Johnny Depp's apparent lack of green, Burton told me that apparenly he was so out-there with his acting, it was already difficult to discern him from a cartoon character so the audience would be none the wiser. As my teenage years ended and I begun to mature, Burton's reign ended and a man called Quentin Tarantino took over. To my dismay, he insisted I become a ruthless killer. Now, obviously I objected - I've barely hurt anything, how could anyone really imagine me as a killer, it made no sense to the narrative but lo and behold there I was, holding a prop gun and shooting to my heart's content. `` It does n't have to make sense,'' He said to me after the first few days. `` It just needs to be bloody and brutal. We can work on the details later.'' There were times where I was told to stare into the camera. Apparently this was for a `` dramatic stare'' where the camera would just zoom in on my face for added effect. I thought it was pretty silly but Tarantino insisted. Thankfully, the killing only lasted a year before Tarantino left the Director's chair. By this time Universal had made a lot of money from my dramatic life, it was time to pick it up a notch and splash a bit more money. The next director I was introduced to was unlike the others. His eccentric, bubbly personality contrasted his scruffy, almost hermit-like appearance. I remember him clasping my hands excitedly, grinning like a kid. `` I'm Peter Jackson!'' The next few months I spent a lot of time walking around with a couple of guys holding a giant green screen behind me. Everywhere I went, there it was. I later found out that computer animation had played a huge part of the next few years. My classroom had turned into a lush forest full of millions of demons. The street had turned into a desolate wasteland, rife with dust clouds and again; millions of fantasy soldiers eating morsels of food and fighting amongst themselves. `` The Green Screen years'' they were dubbed. I felt sorry for Peter by the end of it, he got a lot of flack from critics for his flamboyant CGI-filled masterpiece that lacked a cutting edge. I could see what he was trying to achieve and visually, my life was incredibly exciting but it just lacked a certain sharpness with the script. Apparently people were craving a good story with my life. So that leads us up until right now. Here I am, writing this as we speak while Christopher Nolan comes up with a suitable script for me. You're probably wondering right now what it would be like to turn your life into a movie? It's not fun. Trust me, I know.
[ WP ] Today , you have become a parent . You realise that you can hear your child 's thoughts . The midwife informs you that this is the same for everyone but parents simply do n't inform the children as an unwritten rule . Your own parents smirk .	It had been gnawing on me for four years, since I first became a mother. My parents had known everything. Everything. I have never been truly free. I had known my thoughts as private. They never were. My parents were my own personal Gods, aware of everything. The rule echoes in my head ever so often, free from anyone hearing it at last. All parents hear the thoughts of their children. Only when they realize this, the bond is broken. I hated it. Yes, it was convenient, especially when he could not talk yet. Yes, it was reassuring, knowing whether he was in danger or not. But all I felt after I knew was betrayed. Violated. I made my choice. I went up to the bedroom of my four year old. I woke him. He told me he had been dreaming, although I already knew. `` Mommy can hear your thoughts.'' I told him. I heard his shock, his realisation, and then only silence.
[ WP ] It has been 100 years since the secret to immortality was discovered . Open your story with the line `` A man died today . ''	A man died today. He was a model example of our peoples inherent tenacity in the face of finality and sadly the last of his ilk. From this point forward no person could reasonably consider any other than this man as the bravest individual to step foot on earth. A decision this soul made not long after humanity's eradication of our inevitable stare into the dark abyss. `` A normal life was all I've ever wanted.'' As he graciously said, today he so humbly received. Many call him cowardly for this decision, saying he's abandoning his family and the love that they surround him with. Many do not know my father like I do, the last person known to preserve the true nature of humans.
[ WP ] Write about a billionaire who loses his entire fortune in a single day .	Typical day, just like any other. Wake up, have some coffee. Respond to emails, let the dog out to do its business, shower, get dressed, go to work. At least, those were his typical days before the cancer. His daughter, Grace, was 11. 11 and likely would n't get all the way to 12. Nowadays, his typical day was a little different. Nowadays, he traded work for the hospital. Nowadays, he was preparing for more than a tricky business meeting. Preparing for something like this was n't an easy think to do, though. That's why, when the news came the morning of this typical day, everything stopped. He just stopped. He had been robbed.
[ WP ] Shawn , the shit shoveler , finds an item that allows him to borrow luck from the near future	“ By gods, how I hate this shitty job! ” Shawn muttered to himself, wiping the sweat off his forehead and replacing it with a brown smear. It was the 6^th month in a row that he had drawn the shit shoveling token. Sure, it could have been worse; before this he had had to catch stray dogs and neuter them so their number wouldn ’ t grow out of hand and keep the citizens relatively bite-free. His behind still ached when he though back at that job. “ By gods, how I hate dogs. ” But it could have been better as well; a former colleague of his had gotten the duke token three times already and his cousin somehow kept drawing a doctor one every few months. “ I could be a doctor. ” He thought as the shovel sunk into the brown mush. “ I bet people would stop dying after the fourth or fifth month or so. It can ’ t be THAT hard. ” He lifted and threw the sludge into his wheelbarrow, then turned back. What really worried him was how good he was getting at this; he knew more about the town ’ s eating habits than anyone sane would try to learn. Another shovelful landed on top of the growing pile with a wet splash. “ Gods, how I hate rain. ” At least the smell wasn ’ t as bad as in the summer; not that he didn ’ t get used to it by now. The pitter patter of the drops onto his coat had been a constant companion these past few weeks. A short clink onto the cobblestone beneath his feet made him stop mid-throw. “ I swear, these people would throw anything. ” He banged the spade a few times on the side of the wooden wagon and let it rest there as he bent over to pick up the shiny object near his boot. Wiping it on his breeches, he brought it up to eyelevel, inspecting it. A heavy golden ring with old runes etched into it sat harmlessly in the palm of his hand, still wrapped around a severed finger. Shawn yelped and fell onto his ass on top of the pile of shit. He groaned and opened his eyes just in time to see a heavy jeweled necklace fall from the sky and chip his front tooth. *** 1/?
[ WP ] Every time you eat something you are able to see its past , from where it came from to how you now have it to consume . Except for potatoes , you can consume them with no consequence .	I have the worst, the best and the most interesting job in the world. Hands down. I am a gastrologer, and I practice the rare, disgusting, sometimes deadly, but most unusual art of gastrology. All practitioners are born, not trained, and we have our own rigorous tests to identify nascent gastrologers. Whenever I eat something, I get to see its past, in a vision. If I were to describe it, I would say its almost like a third person flyable camera. In my line of work, you get a rather hardened stomach. And you eat A LOT of potatoes, they are for some reason the only thing that does n't have an associated vision. There are many things I have eaten. I have eaten bullets taken from the crime scenes of murder victims, I have eaten blood taken from a person diagnosed with cancer, from the remains of murder victims, even little bits of sand taken from the bottom of oil wells to see exactly where the oil is. The most interesting things I have found to eat are meteorites, at least small pieces of them. People find me all kinds of things to eat, and quite frankly some of it is quite disgusting. But I do it anyway, not just for the pay though, although the pay can be pretty lucrative. The experience of being able to see into the past and know what truly happened is quite astonishing. Never fear, all of the unusual items are boiled first, but still. Ick. Recently, I got one of the most unusual contract requests in my life. Vladimir Putin has invited me to come to the Kremlin to take part in a particular... delicacy. I am going to be putting the myth that hitler escaped the bunker and that the skull the russians have is the skull of his deceased wife, once and for all. And I am going to do it, with a dash of A1 steak sauce. Wish me luck!
[ WP ] : the country of Reddit is recognised by the UN .	`` Er... Chairman, I-'' `` Yes, Ambassador, I am well aware of the...'' The Chairman of the U.N. looked down at his paper, sighing. ``'Glorious Unified People's Democratically Elected Republic of Capatalist Communism, Constructed on the Basis of Equality, Reddit's', Ambassador.'' ``... Did you-'' `` I had to prevent DDoS attacks from the'/R/hacking' and'/R/4chan' boards.'' `` Subreddits. We're not recognizing 4chan as a nation.'' The chairman sighed. `` In any event, does this council agree?'' Hands went up. A cat meowed. Not for the first time, the Chairman wondered if he could get away with shooting Sir Charles Fluffington the First, Ambassador from Reddit. Then it started purring, and he cursed his soft old heart.
[ WP ] the psychological effect killing has on a young hitman	I told myself I would not respond like this. It was nothing like this with the animals, not even my pet dog, and he was nice. I practiced. I lined up the same shot, same distance, same angle, for the deer last week. I laid there, entrenched in the green bushes and grass of the forest and breathed in slowly, just like I learned. I saw the deer lean down to eat and slowly squeezed my trigger. The shot echoed out and birds flew away, just like in the movies, as the deer fell. What made the humans so different? The pressure was pulsing against my head as if two of the worlds strongest men were pressing in my temples at full force. I collapsed against the bed, holding on to the wooden frame as the dark, dirty hotel room swerved and spun around me. The walls moved in and out and the floor and ceiling were rising and falling without notice. you need to get up I told myself they're looking for you, they'll find you soon I slowly moved myself up to my feet, working against the swerving dizziness and building pain in my head. I could hear sirens and screaming in the streets as I slowly took apart the TSD Tactical Sniper Rifle and put in in the carrying bag. Considering the popularity and priority of the target, the police were sure to be closing in on the hotel. I had to move quickly if I wanted to leave with my life. I moved towards the door and grasped the metal doorknob with white knuckles to keep my balance. As I pulled the door forward, the bright lights of the hallway blinded me like a deer stuck in truck headlights. As I squeezed my eyes closed, I saw a sharp flash of the face of the target. A young man, smiling to the crowd and waving as if everything was perfect. Then I felt the push of my rifle against my chest and saw as his head emptied on to the street. He did n't even know it was coming. I pushed forward down what I had to assume was the hotel hallway. what had he done wrong? what made him deserve this? From what I had learned he was a simple activist, living life for the world. But the buyer had been clear that his true intentions were anything but selfless. How could I ever know for sure? Would I ever want to? The pressure was at a boiling point as I reached the lobby. Nothing could stop me now as I barreled towards the exit. He was terrible. He deserved it. He was terrible. He deserved it. Constant flashes of the smiling face, I saw nothing else. As I ran to the exit I could hear someone shouting towards me, but it was incomprehensible behind the ringing in my ears. I just needed to leave. As I emptied in to the streets I became aware of the chaos I had created. People were running in all directions and sirens echoed between the buildings. Were they just down the block, or miles away? I could never tell. As I turned towards where I had parked my getaway car, two days earlier, I saw it. The white and black car, with the signature flashing lights on the roof. The police officers stepped out, dressed fully in blue, and not prepared for what they saw. I was dizzy beyond repair and found myself quickly collapsing on the sidewalk in front of me. The smiling face. The gunshot. The sirens. It was all slicing through my head flying past like a move on fast-foward. What had I done? I looked up to see the two policemen looking down at me. One shouted something I could not hear as the other called him over. He had found my bag, with the sniper and the target picture laying across the road in front of me. I got to my feet and bolted, as adrenaline kicked in and my body was pushing through it's last efforts for survival. A distant `` freeze!'' was shouted from only feet behind me. As the flashes and pain continued I ran as quickly as I could, but knew it was over for me. I turned around in time to see the two police, guns pointing towards me. I closed my eyes just as they pulled the trigger. They were the hunter, and I was the deer. What made the humans so different?
[ WP ] In the not so distant future , you are a pirate who makes his/her living by shooting down Amazon delivery drones and selling the contents .	`` Another?'' My voice booms out in rage and everyone in the small cubicles tries to avoid eye contact with me. `` What exactly do you mean by this?'' `` Sir, we lost 15 drones in the past two days. All of them were high value delivery drones, and...'' This can not be true, the idiot describes what happened! And I'm just standing here waiting for an explanation on how exactly this is posible. I tell him to shut up, get lost and see that the problem is solved. ASAP. Just recently, we changed our security policy. New routes for drones were put up every week. A randomized algorithm assured for maximum unpredictability. But somehow, someone must have figured it out. Of course, Amazon is a huge company and the losses are merely as interesting as insect bites. One or two might not hurt but 15 in two days are becoming an annoyance. And I was in charge of this whole disaster. Normally I'd see that everything was done smoothly and drones swiftly deployed the goods but since a few months... I was n't nearly paid enough for this job. I should quit now idly thinking to myself on the way back to my office. Ah screw this shit, just a few more weeks. ** I am doing my best to look nervous. I really am not... I quite literally could not care less. But they expect me to be devastated by the statistics and I am sure to play my part right. `` Your numbers are worring us, Mr. Harper.'' My boss: the prime example of an asshole. `` If there is no improvement in the next two weeks we will have to look for alternatives.'' Just an euphemism for fireing me. `` I see what I can...'' `` Dismissed.'' I swallow hard. Rage darkens my face for a splitsecond. I was n't planning on letting them fire me at last. ** Everything was arranged by now. I put the USB-drive on the drone for delivery to some random place. I knew the route by heart, as was necessarry for the last stage of my plan. Afterwards I went to my office, packed up my things and bid everyone farewell. Now I am meeting Larry. `` Everything is going as planned. You can have your man gather the drone and the drive. Now...'' Smiling, Larry slides the heavy envelope to me. `` Half your share from the drones and 10K for the code.'' `` That is not what we had agreed on, not by a long shot!'' He laughes quietly, pity in his face. `` And what are you gon na do'bout it? Deal with it! You're out.'' He mounts his motorbike and drives off. I shiver in the drizzling rain. Just one thought crossing my mind: Fuck, what now?
[ WP ] You are dying and you see a face you never thought you 'd ever see again .	Junkie girl. Alley. Black cat blues, Jazz, Ragtime. Red balloons. Harlem. Some party. POP! Birthday wish. Extinguished candles. Confetti. Remember this. Like the folded note I gave you, pocketed when you were nothing of 22 and I had to go. I had to leave you. And I never explained why I left or where I went. And for that I'm sorry. The note reads: Hey Phillip, I want to tell you Happy Birthday. I know I already said it to you, but I wanted to write it down. Your mom looks nice and your friends from back home seem good and fine too. They're funny. Especially that Danny. He told me in the bathroom that you were his first kiss, you know. On that rainy playground down the street from your house, by the swings. Romance and first loves, what a thing. And now your matching digits again. Last time that happened was eleven...that's when I had my first kiss, you know. It was n't with a boy though, no. It was a girl. I was n't quite as lucky as you, haha, that Danny sure is cute. Her name was Ruth. It was a clean fine kiss on a sunny day on her back porch. But it felt weird. I know why now, but, anyway. You were my first real kiss. Embarrassing is n't it? Getting kissed at 18? But it's true, you were my first good kiss. And was n't it good? I'll never forget it. I'll never forget you either. It was good to see you again, Phil. Very good. Take care, Love, Lukas And then in the blink of an eye, I was gone. And you were drunk off your mind -- the last time I saw you -- sitting on that fire escape with me and you were saying something slurred about how happy you were. The next morning I thought about calling you from a payphone, and then a week later, but I never did. I had to be alone. And I've been alone for a long while. I see your face sometimes, in the hospital bed next to mine...most of the time a stranger fills it, but sometimes it's you, Lukas. Only sometimes...
[ WP ] Everybody on the planet has an intense , irrational fear of the dark . Except for you . One morning the sun fails to rise .	This intense fear the people have of the dark... this irrational fear of the the unkown, the unseen. Who knows what wanders in the midst of the night, where there is no sun? People fear what they can not see, but what better way to face a fear than to face it head on? I have no fear of the dark. I welcome it. But I am not like the others. I am made for the night, the night is my friend. The morning the sun failed to rise was a morning I will never forget. Hordes of people all over the planet in a fearful panic. They did n't understand the dark, or why the sun failed to rise, and this only fueled their terror. People fear what they do not understand. And the darkness was pressing upon them, making their hearts beat wildly with fear. Panicked screams and cries were plenty, some were in shock, silently holding their flashlights, eyes wide, staring into the darkness with trepidation, waiting for something horrible to happen, some were praying asking for their precious sun to come back and light their planet again. They did n't understand, their fear kept them in a terrorized panic. I was calm, trying to show others that the darkness was nothing to fear. But they would n't listen, they let the fear overcome them. They did n't feel the stillness of the night, the peaceful state the planet was in, resting from the burning sun. They did n't see night sky above glittering with stars twinkling brightly, what's to fear in that? Fear holds you back, I face my fears with courage, no matter how scared I may be, that's the only way to overcome it. I feel bad for these people who allow fear to take over their life, you miss out on so much the world has to offer when you let fear win. The morning the sun failed to rise only proved to me that I am right in facing my fears. Watching all those people panicking, over nothing. The darkness. They do n't realize everyone has a little darkness in them. Fear is darkness. Who wants to live a life controlled by an irrational fear of darkness? Not me.
[ CW ] Write a short story that reads one way when grammatically correct , but reads completely different when commas are removed .	I was only twenty years old when I bought my first dog, Dick. Dick was definitely not your stereotypical dog and he definitely did n't play like one. He loved to fetch, poop and lick his own butt every time he barked. I really could n't believe it. How could I have I been so lucky to be blessed with this monster of a dog? I rescued Dick from an inevitable death at a nasty local pound, in my butt, I knew it felt good. Poop caked the floors with an aroma that a bum could n't handle, the walls were covered in Dick's friend's piss and it was a place fit for a title of Doggy Hell.
[ WP ] Extra-terrestrial life forms have finally managed to reach our solar system . They seem peaceful enough , but there 's just one problem - they 're much , much bigger than we 'd expected .	`` Any contact from the Mass?'' One of the scientists asked as she walked into the observatory with her morning coffee. The scientist behind the desk shook his head sleepily. `` No. We should get something new soon.'' He said. The other scientist slapped his back. `` Hey, cheer up, we should be happy! We finally discovered alien life! And they have a ship three times the size of the moon!'' `` And that does n't scare you? They have more than enough soldiers to exterminate the human race.'' `` Oh you've seen too many science fiction movies! Their first message to us was literally'People of Earth: Hi.''' The woman said as she pantomimed the scene with her hands. The man raised an eyebrow and looked at her. `` That's not a message, that's something a 6-year-old does if he snuck into the principal's office and messed with the intercom. Hopefully we'll find out why they're really here and soon.'' `` Relax, they're not going to hurt us.'' Almost on cue, the sky began to darken as something blocked out the sun and blanked the sky. The two scientists looked up out of the window at the object, but it was cast in shadow and impossible to make out. From their perspective, the mass seemed to be right above the earth's atmosphere. A tiny beeping could be heard from the console. The man rolled his chair back over to the computer and pressed some buttons. After reading the screen his eyes went wide. `` That ca n't be right....'' He said, somewhat concerned. `` What ca n't be right?'' The woman asked, still looking at the mass. `` The message I sent last night asked them some questions, but they only answered one of them: How many of you are in the ship?'' `` And?'' `` The message they sent back....'' The man looked back to the woman. ``'What ship?''' The black mass in the sky became more clear. Rather than a ship made of metal, the mass slowly gave way to the sun's rays, showing what looked like a human face, faded by the atmosphere and thousands of miles in between it and the surface. Its two eyes looked over the planet, each one the size of a comet, with curiosity. Slowly a small grin formed on its face. ``....oh.'' The woman said, dropping her coffee in shock.
[ EU ] Star Wars : The death of Jar-Jar Binks	( Working off an ancient memory of Episode 1 here, and I do n't feel like fact checking. Me-sa live dangerously ). The fields of Naboo were damp from the rain. A bleary, overcast sky hung over the procession of Jar Jar Binks's funeral, as they carried his Gungan ceremonial casket. Boss Nass was more visibly shaken by the death of the once outcast Jar Jar. So long ago, that had been. He had amounted to so much. Two Jedi stood amongst the mourners, disguised in black hooded cloaks. They wore their hands folded in front of them with the black cloth over it, and kept their heads bowed. One of the Jedi looked to the other and talked as low as he could. `` Are you comfortable being out in the open like this? There could be Sith watching, or anyone that would sell us out to the Empire.'' `` I had to take the risk.'' she said, the bottom half of her blue face the only thing showing. They were soaked by this point, though not as bad as those near Boss Nass, who was blowing his nose frantically. `` And besides,'' the female Jedi said. `` Jar Jar's funeral was something I could not miss.'' The other Jedi, an older man, raised his eyebrow, which the other could not see. `` Is that so? Was it just the announcement, which said... oh, hold on.'' he fished for something within his robe and brought it out into the steady rain. Droplets of rain ran down a flattering picture of Jar Jar Binks, with a glowing light behind him. Even here, his face looked fantastically dopey. `` We-sa so sorry to announce the demise of Jar Jar Binks. Gungan. Ambassador. Friend.'' The Jedi turned the card around in his hand. There was a poem on the back, something crude but pleasant. It ended with `` May the Force by With You, Forever, Dear Sweet Swamp Prince.'' `` Do you know how it is he died?'' said the male Jedi. `` He was n't old.'' replied the female. `` So there's a bit of a dispute. Jar Jar was a pacifist, but somehow he earned many enemies.'' `` Jar Jar did?'' the male Jedi was astonished. He had only done his best to uphold the peace of the Republic. Perhaps he was another casualty of Palpatine's wrath? `` Let's just say his personality caused friction between some.'' the female Jedi said, trailing off. They arrived to the hill, by a single tree. The Gungans holding Jar Jar caskets let it down with a soft heave. Boss Nass, too, climbed down off of it, still blowing his nose and wailing. `` Me bruthas and sistas.'' Boss Nass began. He looked positively horrible. `` In life, Jar Jar was beloved of many of yousa. So mucha love wasa in his life! Do we have anybody who be speakin' up for ol' Jar Jar? Now that he...'' he took another look at the casket and could n't continue. A mustached, gray Gungan patted his back and led him away to a seat. `` I'll say something.'' said the female Jedi suddenly. The other tried to grab her before she left, and whispered something, but she did n't hear. She walked up to the hill and turned to the crowd. She then took off her hood, revealing thick tentacles of locks that acted as her hair. Her eyes were a bright green, and were piercing despite the darkness of the air around them. `` Jar Jar was an insufferable, slimy, backwoods idiot.'' she said, calmly. Everyone looked at her. Some even began to laugh. `` He made a complete joke out of the struggle for the Republic and numbed himself by walking into energy beams enough that every time the electricity went out in Coruscant, it quickly became known as a Jar Jar Breaker.'' More laughter, some whooping. `` So, may the force be with you, Jar Jar.'' she waved her hand, and the casket flew open, and Jar Jar's corpse flew out. There were several audible gasps at this. Boss Nass stood up, and looked bright in the face with rage instead of sadness. `` May the force be strong, indeed! As I do now what I was beaten to yesterday!'' and she flung his corpse with a powerful force throw. Everyone looked helplessly and breathlessly as his limp, decorated figure disappeared through clouds for a moment and then over the hill on the horizon. There was a sudden cheering throughout the crowd. The male Jedi looked around uneasily and stepped backwards through the crowd and scrambled back towards his ship. This was not okee-day. May the fourth be with you all.
[ WP ] After staggering losses and a massive counter-attack from the Emus during the Great Emu War of 1932 , Australia prepares for its last stand .	Darkness was falling as Captain Perth inspected the remaining men. A rag tag bunch, if ever there was one. Just eighteen men in total. It would have to do. The remnants of the Australian army was all that stood before the Emus and the last habitable city, Sydney. Their makeshift camp was located in the outback near Sydney. The base itself contained a couple of hastily built wooden structures, surrounded by sandbags and ditches. It had been erected on a huge expanse of flat land, enabling the defenders to see the creatures approach from any direction. As the camp descended further into darkness, a noise rang out that drained the color from the men's faces. '' Boom'' `` Boom'' `` Boooom'' The men knew the sound well. It was the war cry of the Emu. It was the last noise most heard before they were savagely ripped apart. The birds had no mercy. `` Right men,'' said captain Perth in a commanding voice. `` This. Is. IT.'' The men stood to attention. A small man, Sam Henshore, was trembling. He was only 16 and had n't seen action yet. `` My name is Captain Perth, commander of the last Australian army. Father to a child pecked to death by Emu. Husband to a wife ripped to shreds by Emu. And tonight I will have my vengeance!'' There were cheers from the men. ``... But we do not just fight for the dead. We fight for the young, the old. The weak and the sick. We fight for freedom. We fight for Australia! And tonight we dine on EMU!! LIGHT THE BARBIE!!'' The men cheered again, louder this time. `` Crikey, hella speech cap'n!''' `` Let's show those cheeky Emu cunts who the real appex pred is!'' `` Take up your positions, men. Check your rifles.'' said the captain. The darkness was almost overwhelming now. The `` Boom's'' grew louder. The ground trembled. The men could see eyes in the darkness; pairs of blood red pupils. They looked like they were sent from hell. `` Wait for it....'' The `` Boom's'' grew louder still. '' Boom'' `` Boom'' `` Boom'' `` Wait for it...'' The Earth shook. There must have been thousands of them. '' Boom'' `` Boom'' `` Boom'' '' FIRE! `` The sound of gunshots and squarks sang out beneath the crescent moon. It was soon followed by the screams. And then. Silence.
[ WP ] In a desperate mission to save the world from attacking aliens the world leaders gather experts of every field . For some reason they invite you as `` Expert In Bullshitting '' in the very last attempt of rescuing the planet .	I could see the grim expressions on their faces, all of them, everyone could see them, but really it was actually pride. I am the last defense for this planet. Really, everyone knows it, I know it, you know it. We all know it. La Pen of France greeted me with a smile and I tried to shake her hand, but you got to be firm, and pull them in. Everyone knows I'm a bull, they know, I know it. We all know it. The aliens even know it. Very sad. Devastating. Really. It really is. They've come into our planet and started to integrate into our society. The last thing my planet needs is more aliens. That's why everyone comes to me and says,'hey, you need to get rid of these aliens. you are the only one who can do it.' I'm totally going to do it. I know it. Trudeau grimaced and tried to hide it with his hands buried at his chin to wipe the disdain and uncertainty from his chiseled face, but I know we're good. Totally good. Very good. We are, ask anyone. They'll tell you, for sure. I know it, you know it. We all know it. `` Are you ready sir?'' An older man at the front, around my age, actually, looked me in the eyes, which is typically something you do n't do, but because I've allowed these people to be graced by my presence at such a sad, very tragic moment in human history, I did n't pull him in with a most aggressive handshake. Everyone knows my handshakes break grounds in all debates. I'm a prime diplomat, you know? You know. `` Are you sure this the last ditch effort to save humanity, eh?'' Trudeau objected, but really, we all know he just likes to be objectified by women. Maybe some men too, very sad. We're going to fix that. `` Excuse me, very rude. Totally rude. So rude, everyone in the room could tell that was rude. How rude.'' I objected to his objectification. `` We need someone who has been capable to BS his way out of everything and still remain in power, still grasp the world by the–'' The older man spoke, but I did n't know what those letters meant. I asked, with an interruption to be sure. `` BS?'' `` Business Star. You're going to do business with the aliens and find some way to bring them out of the fallen territories.'' The older man, a decorated war hero spoke. I saw something in his eyes as he looked deep into mine and spoke. The wrinkles pressed tight, his brow barely visible pinched between them and his eyes were like dull orbs that tried to find something, but of course what he found was the excellence of execution. I have so many businesses, so many! So many that have succeeded, and then I became a world leader, a leader of the world, you know? I know, everyone does, and I'm the best world leader in the entire planet. `` This is a serious matter.'' Sorry, very sad. He caught me with a smug grin, but really, it was just pride. I was going to be the one sent forth to the leader of the aliens. `` Before we do this, sir, do you even have a clue what we're up against? What you're going to do? Everything up to this point, your entire entourage has cried fake news, hell you even tried to sell some of your own citizens to them as slaves.'' Said a smelly black skinned man in something he probably got at an african hut with his ebt card. How dare he! Everyone should by my daughter's clothing, whether they can afford it or not! She's my daughter! `` I'm sorry what?'' I asked him, looked right in his gross white eyes. I could see the poo stained in the middle of them. He looked at me as though there should be a border wall between us, but really, how can they even understand simple human concepts. I guess they wanted to get Harambe involved and this is the only representative they could find for him. `` This is ridiculous.'' One person interjected, but I could n't see them. `` I said, you are a terrible person. You will get us all killed!'' He exclaimed, arms up in defeat as I clearly won this argument. Clearly. He knows it. You know it. We all know it. La Pen stood between us, her hands gestured the representative of the apes to stand back, and I could hear the group bickering about it all. I'm glad they were on my side. Obviously they were because there were all pointing and waving their arms at me because I should always be the focal point of everything, right? Right. Pt 1.
[ WP ] Write a story , about anything , that gets more intensive with every sentence/paragraph and leave the reader hanging .	beep beep beep The sound of the machines around me were driving me nuts. But I could n't leave my brothers side. I could n't. beep beep beep Damn that's annoying. But it means he's still alive. I've never been one to pray, but God's been getting an ear full from me today. How could someone crash into my brothers car like that and not stick around?! Probably a drunk driver. If I could find him, all hell would break loose. beep beep beep.... prolonged beep What.. what does that mean?! `` John, John! Wake up! Nurse! Doctor! Anyone! Get the hell in here! Please wake up, please God, please.'' Doctor enters `` We lost him.'' No. This ca n't be. No... John, John please wake up. An unknown person walks into the room `` Who the hell are you?'' `` I'm the driver who hit your brother.''
[ WP ] What does the busboy dream about ?	Once again, it's a busy day and I'm the one expected to pick up the slack. I always assumed one of the few plus sides to being 35 and still working a shitty job like this was that I would be top of the totem pole, I was such a fucking idiot. Instead it's a crap-tacular combination of being looked down on for being 35 and still a busboy and everyone assuming that, because you are the oldest, you are the most responsible; that you'll always pick up a shift, never be busy, always on time, never talk back to management like the kids do. Fuck that. If I were so responsible, why am I still working here? But here I am, 8 PM, fresh from another sleepless day and night; just like every 20-something I'm working with. Getting ready to wait on some asshole who thinks his shit do n't stink. sigh Time to start; and the smile comes on. `` Good evening sir and ma'am, do you have a reservation?'' Yaaaaaaaaay, I can tell just by looking at him he does n't and does n't expect that to influence the time it'll take him to be seated. `` I'm pretty sure I do n't need one.'' He smiles and winks at the girl who must be 15 years his senior as he slides me a folded bill. Folded just right so none of the bill's numbers show; ten to one odd's it's a Washington. `` Let me see what I can do Sir.'' It took four months to convince my boss to set aside two tables a night for assholes like this. He kept telling me it was wasted space and a waste of money. But once you factor in how long it would take to explain that `` no, it's not that I hate you, or that your bribe was too small, but that we actually do n't have a table right now'' and the horrible review that would follow, and how the scene would impact the other patrons, it actually saves money. I ca n't come back to the couple right away, otherwise it looks like I was just waiting for a tip, so I hang out in a back hallway for a few minutes, dreaming of where I'd rather be. I see it so clearly, a nice apartment, not too big, not too small. Living in New York makes a house a bigger annoyance then dream, no; a nice apartment would be perfect. I can see it, even feel it in moments like this, I walk in and the first thing I feel is the weight of two mutts fly into my chest. Nothing special about them, just two mutts from the shelter. They have to be from a shelter. Growing up I always had a shelter mutt, they make the best dogs, they're always so happy just to have a good home. From somewhere in the kitchen I'll hear the excited yapping of another kind, `` Daddy's home! Daddy's home!'' and my two beautiful children will come bursting out of the busy kitchen. Followed closely by my loving wife, not as impulsive as the rest, she stands in the hall doorway, drying her hands on a towel, waiting for me. She always waits for me to make the first move, to come to her first. All the way back to that first time I saw her and her folded arms said she was n't moving, but her smile asked me over. Every night will go the same, and I would never want it to change. A delicious dinner, maybe home-made, maybe take-out; but it's the company that makes it so good, then, we'll sit together. Maybe start or finish a puzzle, maybe watch our favorite show, or maybe just sit and read. Ann, the oldest, will talk about what happened in school, about the boy she thinks she likes or which class she really loves and the clubs she's thinking about joining. But all too soon, they will go to bed and my wife, who was always early to rise and early to fall when it came to sleep, will be dozing on the couch, but I will be awake; awake and dreaming. In those nights, when my family, my world, rests, my dreams will reawaken. I never gained the fame I had hoped my art deserved, but I will still paint. Long into the night, I will paint. Visitors will never know that at night my living room becomes a studio, they will never see the paintings I refuse to hang around my home, but those that look for the signs will know. They will see the edge of the canvas stored under the couch, the smudge of paint on the coffee table, the cup of tea that's actually water used to clean brushes, oh yes, the signs will be there. Shit. How long have I been day dreaming? I rush back to the front, oh god, the couple looks pissed. Well, the man looks pissed. The young lady could n't seem to be bothered by his increasingly angry complaining, too busy staring at one of the younger and much more attractive busboys. `` My apologies for the wait Sir, but I have located a table that is available for you --'' `` Located?? What, are they free roaming? Do you tag them and hunt one down when you need it?'' `` I understand your inpatients Sir, but if you would just follow --'' `` How do you even have a job? Huh? It takes you forever to `` locate'' a table, your etiquette is horrific, and you have paint on your neck; did you even shower before work you cretin? You know you'll never be a famous painter, is that why you treat respectable adults like me, because you're jealous? Because you'd rather live my life?'' Fuck this, I need to leave right now or I might do something that could actually lose this job. `` Emily! I need to check the office phone, can you attend to our patron? Thanks,'' I look over at the man that is now stunned into silence that I did n't just take his abuse, `` And make sure he gets the best service possible, he's been waiting too long already.'' And with that I was off. `` Office phone'' is standard worker code for, `` If I stay here, I'm going to punch this person'' and Emily had always been empathetic toward me for how often I seem to get the assholes. I step out back, into the cool night air. Ten years ago I'd have taken this time as a smoke break, but not anymore. Eight more hours.... No. Not tonight. When I step back inside I walk not to the front, but to my bosses office, `` Sir, I do n't want to be a problem, but I just threw up out back and --'' `` Did anyone see you?'' `` No, Sir.'' `` Alright, keep it that way and go home.'' `` Thank you Sir'' But I do n't go home. I ca n't. I ca n't stop thinking about what that man said to me, that I'd rather live his life. No, Instead I run to the Art supply shop. The small one that is open until midnight. I ca n't even make it home. In the ally, behind the store I begin. The ground is dry and I lay the canvas down and start. The strokes are long, but smooth, purposeful. I do n't know how long it took, but I finished it then and there and it was perfect. It was painfully difficult to bring it home without smudging it, but I did. Four flights of stairs and I opened the door with the giddy glee of a 35 year old who never grew up. It might have been midnight, but did n't matter if I entered my home quite like a mouse or like a stampede, the mutts were gon na bark either way. My wife, wiping sleep from her eyes appears in the doorway, arms crossed, but smiling, `` where were you honey?'' I walk over to the wall that faces the door, that anyone who enters our home is forced to see and hang the picture; the beautiful portrait of my perfect family, all six of us, even the mutts. `` I was finally painting something worth hanging.'' `` It's beautiful, what is it called?'' I smile to her and walk over, knowing she would n't and knowing I would n't have wanted her to. Smiling, holding her in my arms I tell her it's title: `` No, The Busboy You Scream At Would Not Rather Live Your Life.''
[ WP ] You 're a common goblin who has , against all odds , slain the hero of the story .	Dread lord Caliban cackled and unleashed another bolt of lightning into the heroes chest, then screamed `` Attack, my minions!'' I and the other goblins rushed the staggering warrior. Sensibly, I held back a little. In moments my fellow goblins were slaughtered, and the heroes sword glowed with their stolen life force. `` OVERDRIVE!'' the hero screamed, unleashing dozens of blows in a split instant against Dread lord Caliban. That always happened. I did n't even know why we were here. Counter productive, that's what we were. Still, Dread Lord Calaban must like having us around. He raised us from the dead after every battle. Dread Lord Calaban twirled his staff over his head, and I looked desperately for cover. `` Impact... SHOCK!'' he screamed, slamming it on the ground. The blast wave flung me against the wall, and ragdolled the bodies of my slaughtered friends and countrymen about the room. The hero flew straight up at the ceiling, then back down... directly at me. I tried to scramble aside but I was still dazed from the shockwave. The hero crushed me into the ground. Blood streaming from my broken nose I shoved him off of me and scrambled to my feet to run away- nothing good ever came of being near these guys. My sword pulled in my grasp as I struggled free. I glanced down- it was lodged clean through the heroes chest. The world froze. I could n't move. Lights began to appear around me, as if they'd always been there at the edge of my vision. Fifteen glowing red hearts and five gray ones appeared over Dread Lord Calaban's head, as did `` L38 Dread Lord Calaban,'' in a gothic print. I looked down at the hero- eight gray hearts. And the mysterious word `` L35 xXxDollaBalla420xXx.'' I looked up. Half a red heart. And the words `` L0 Goblin Chump.'' Voices spoke, from nowhere. A woman's, first. `` An exception has been thrown.'' Then a man's: `` The goblin got the last hit. The system does n't know how to allocate the experience points. And let me tell you, from where this goblin is starting there's a lot of them to allocate.'' The woman's again: `` They go to the goblin, obviously. We agreed on this. Experience follows the last hit.'' `` Sure, but what can he do with the EXP? He has n't got class levels to advance.'' `` Just do what we always do. Make him better at whatever it is he does. Fighters fight better, wizards cast more spells, you know. What do goblins do? Make him do more of it.'' `` Goblins do n't DO anything. That's the whole point of goblins.'' I do things! I thought to myself. I could n't even move to speak. I have hobbies and interests! Make me better at them! `` This guys slated to level up twenty six times. It's unprecedented.'' Or just make me a better warrior! I was a warrior, kind of. I fought. When I could n't hide behind other goblins. I might do it a little more, you know, enthusiastically, if I were good at it. `` Goblins are pretty much useless bags of loot and XP. I do n't know what a level 26 goblin is supposed to look like.'' An ogre maybe? `` Well, we have to do something,'' the female voice sighed. `` The system ca n't move on until XP is allocated. Let me try something.'' I felt heavier, all of a sudden. My clothes were shiny and gold, and I had huge, ornamented rings on all my fingers and a crown on my head. I glanced up desperately as the world spun back into motion. I still only had half a red heart, but the name above me read `` L26 Goblin Jackpot.'' Dread Lord Calaban grinned hungrily at me.
[ WP ] Gamer language is being used in medieval times . You are a knight in the middle of a big battle .	Our lord stood before us, the standard flagpole sticking out from behind him carrying our guild flag and title, < Burgundian White Knights >, and above that, another flag, this one thin, white and embroidered with his tag, < Guild Leader > SgPaladion. `` Cav rush mid point, take out siegers, push up from behind and aggro archers. Do not engage boss. Pikemen, advance slowly, take defense stance within one klick. Infantry, stay behind pikes, support. Armour, support trebuchets, stand ground. No AFKers? All present X up.'' `` Now, remember lads, all PANs are KoS. Show no mercy.'' PANs were the < Pwn All Noobs >, the opposing guild with which we had been allied until one of their groups PVPed on our recruits. Now they were sieging our castle, in hopes that they could steal our mats and craft the ultimate gear we had been saving up for our lord. The countdown horn began to blare. `` They're spawncamping us!'' came a cry. The PANs were at the gates spamming taunts, including one particularly vulgar one which had been added in a recent community patch. Our lord pulled out his magnifier and took a moment to examine the gear info written on their shields. `` They're only IL 90. Ca n't dent us with shit gear. Infantry, take point, gank campers, then retreat back to walls.'' A dove carrying a message flew through the gate and landed on our lord's shoulder. A whisper from the enemy lord, using his special courier wearing a miniature version of his epic gear. Our lord turned around to read the message, but I glimpsed its content over his shoulder. > KushKnight69: ur a fgt The countdown ended and the battle start horn blared as the gates opened. `` Frag out!'' came a voice from outside, and everything went black.
[ WP ] You are a hotshot lawyer , in life you sold your soul to The Devil . In death you set about finding a loophole in the contract .	In return for a full life of blessings from Satan – including economic, sexual, and social success – James Duncan agrees to serve Satan in death. It seemed like such a good deal at the time, but as James crouched in the rocky, eldritch crevice – forks of hellfire and crackling energy arcing through the sky – he began to question his choice. He hadn ’ t questioned it when he first arrived in hell. It didn ’ t seem all that bad during that initial period, and when he showed up, the memories of his mansion in the suburbs of New Jersey, his Park Avenue apartment, Shelby and the kids, were all fresh in his mind. He had almost forgotten his deal at the time of his death. He had been yanked from his world, without warning. Now he was here, on the plains of fire. He was told this was about as good a dwelling as he would ever find down here. He should consider himself lucky, the others had said. Would you have ever reached the same heights without Satan? Would you even have a life to regret if he hadn ’ t helped you? It was an impossible, torturous question – one that had tormented from time to time back on Earth. There was no point in dwelling on such things now. He worked for Satan now, serving on his legal counsel. This was his death, and there was no point in bitching about it. Not even God would free him now. Dark light flashed again, and somewhere above, James heard the rumbling passage of a Behemoth, wandering across the wastes. There had to be some way. Then it hit him, just as another blast of fire ignited the caverns of hell. It was something in the words of the contract, some little piece that had been playing in his head over and over again. In return for a full life of blessings from Satan. In return for a full life of blessings. In return for a full life. He had died at the age of fifty-two. What was the average lifespan in America? Seventy two, or thereabouts. A prickling, chilling sensation traveled up his non-existent skin. He had spent too many years with his nose in a legal text, even before meeting Satan, to miss the obvious implications. He only needed one little seed to construct his argument, and now he had it. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- Satan sighed, leaning back in his chair. He was seldom in his office these days – or his domain for that matter - but James had caught him as soon as he returned. The dark lord generally preferred to stalk the world of mortals. He had many servants and creatures at his disposal – goblins, wraiths, and of course demons – but he preferred to do the work, the hard pitches, himself. He looked road worn. Vulnerable, James thought. “ You dicked me over, Satan. You and I both know it. ” “ I don ’ t understand, ” Satan said. “ I drew up a contract, you signed it. You, a lawyer, get how this works. What are you trying to say here? ” “ I ’ m saying you didn ’ t live up to your end of the contract. I ’ m saying you owe me. ” “ Get the fuck out of here, ” Satan said with a chuckle. “ Come on kid, get out of here. I have real work to do. You ’ re wasting my eternity. ” “ It ’ s not just me, ” James said with a smile. The smile unsettled Satan. He could see a moment of hesitation on the dark angel ’ s face. “ Outside this door, ” James said. “ Are thousands of souls who you screwed over. Contracts not met, obligations ignored. Satan, you ’ ve made a mistake. I ’ ve been working on your legal counsel. I know how this works. How much trouble do you think we could cause for you? More than you can handle, I ’ d bet. You owe me a full life. Not half a life. Not three quarters of a life. A full life. ” Satan stood up and looked out his window. Meanwhile, the secretary continued to buzz on the intercom, asking for a minute when he could spare it. “ Shit, ” Satan said. -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- - The flowers smelled impossibly sweet, their colors rich and saturated. James knelt beside them, admiring the pure sensory feeling. “ You understand, ” the archangel said, “ why this can ’ t happen, don ’ t you? ” “ Oh, I most certainly don ’ t. In fact, if you look into the catechism, there ’ s really very little recourse you have. I repented. Therefore, God must forgive me and take me into heaven. ” “ But you ’ re a sworn agent of Satan! We can ’ t let you in! You ’ re tainted! You ’ re not really repentant! ” “ It ’ s in the writing, ” James said, “ and if God doesn ’ t do something, he ’ s going to have a serious lawsuit on his hands. I ’ m well versed in spiritual law. Very well versed. What kind of God would he be if I, say, got his divinity license revoked? He ’ s going to have to settle. ” “ Shit, ” Michael said. “ What a fucking idiot Satan is. Teaching humans spiritual law. I warned God that this would happen one day. Alright, look, we ’ ll be in contact. We ’ re going to have to set up some kind of meeting where we can iron out the details. ” Michael left frustrated, and James sat in the garden of St. John ’ s parish. He smiled to himself. Satan would shit his pants when he heard this. Now James would have real leverage. He was going to make Satan his bitch. He was going to walk through the realms of hell, heaven, and earth, flitting through each as easily as Satan and God both. He had loved being a lawyer in life, but that paled into comparison to the excitement of spiritual law. He was playing Satan and God against each other. He was playing them like a goddamned fiddle. Humans were n't just pawns anymore. Heaven and Hell did n't know it yet, but once he got what he wanted, he was going to open up the first spiritual law office on Earth. Satan and God were going to have heartburn for the rest of eternity. He was going to make sure of it.
[ WP ] Your name is Joe	The first thing he noticed was the cold. He'd felt it before, he could remember. A world of white, laughter, stiff movement, not from cold but the layers to keep warm. He shivered. Or at least, he tried to shiver. He blinked his eyes open. This world was also white, but instinctively, he knew it was different. It was too bright, and the noise. He squinted, blocking the worst of the glare and wished he could cover his ears. The same thing that prevented him from shivering kept him from moving his arms. He did n't have any memories of this. This was new. This was strange. `` Hello.'' He could move his head. He turned it in the direction of the voice. `` Hello,'' the voice repeated. `` My name is ARCHIE.'' He did n't know what ARCHIE was. It was not... human? He guessed that was the right word. He could n't remember, but he felt he should. Something was wrong. `` My name is ARCHIE. And you,'' there was a brief pause, `` you're name is Joe.'' The sense of wrongness got stronger. Joe. His name was not Joe. His name was... And again he could n't remember. He felt his face crinkle, and suddenly a high pitched laugh filled the room. He knew it was laughter, just like the memory with the... snow. The word came back to him. The world with the cold white. That memory was filled with snow. But this laughter was different. It was n't happy. `` Hello Joe,'' ARCHIE continued. `` What is so funny?'' He, Joe or whoever he really was, continued to laugh. It felt instinctive. Like self-defense. As if, by laughing, he could prevent the overwhelming sense of wrongness from engulfing him. That by laughing he could still be him and not Joe. He shook his head at ARCHIE, refusing to answer. He was n't sure if he remembered how to answer. He was not Joe.
[ FF ] 250 Words Exactly - You awake in another body , in another place and time .	As I awake, I'm in an unfamiliar room. I go to the dresser and open my wallet. Ah yes, my name is David. I grab my keys, wallet and fedora, then head out the door. Along my walk I meet an elderly man about my height with a similar fedora. `` Hi I'm David'', I say. `` Hello David, my name is Charles. It's a nice day is n't it?'' `` Yes, it is. Nice Hat'' He smiles and says, `` Likewise'' I continued along and kept looking back at him. He was a looking at some birds in a nearby tree. Why was he here? Who is this guy? I decide to follow him. I followed him for the next couple hours. He was n't very interesting. He walked around 10 blocks, talking to a few of the neighbors, then headed into to his apartment. He lived alone. Good. I watched him through his kitchen window until it was night and he went to bed. I head back to my apartment to grab some tools. As I make my way back to the old man's house, I find it difficult to remember my name. Whatever, it does n't matter anymore. I use a lock pick to open his apartment door. Slowly, I make my way into his bedroom and watch him as he slept. Then, I gently bring the hammer above my shoulder and strike blow after blow into the old man's head. As I awake, I'm in an unfamiliar room. I go to the dresser and open my wallet. Ah yes, my name is Charles.
[ WP ] You 're a man who 's tired of his life , so one day , while driving home from work , instead of stopping at your house , you just decided to keep driving .	A high-pitched bell rang out a couple of times as I stepped into the diner. Outside had been slightly chilly, the first hints of the coming winter lingering in the air. Inside I gratefully took off my cap and laid it on the counter as I sat down and waved over at the middle-aged lady brewing coffee on the other end. `` Fresh pot? I'll have some if that's alright. And any bacon and eggs you have,'' I found myself saying, surprisingly famished. The woman turned as if seeing me for the first time. I spied a name tag against her faded yellow uniform, in gilded letters it spelled out `` DOLORES''. With a surprising assertiveness I followed up, `` As quickly as possible please Dolores.'' Dolores' raised her eyebrows. I'm unsure whether it was because of my unusual order or because of my impertinence, but regardless she turned to the little window behind the counter and whispered something indistinct, I suppose to whoever needed to cook my bacon and eggs. She took her time waddling over with her freshly brewed pot of coffee and poured me a hot cup. She spoke with a long, drawling voice. `` So, who you running away from honey?'' This time I was the one to look surprised. My eyes quickly darted around the diner, near empty at this surely ungodly hour. The only other patron was a skinny old man at a booth on the far end, slowly going through what looked like a faded newspaper. Dolores smiled a knowing smile. `` It's not rocket science hon,'' She gestured with her mouth to the parking lot outside, in the direction of the van I had been driving for the past seven hours. `` You drive up here a bit past midnight in a big-name delivery van, the kind that do n't do deliveries at this hour.'' She put the coffee pot down and waved her hand over my face, `` Your eyes are tired and your clothes are rumpled and you smell like you've been in that van for what, half a day now?'' `` You're awfully perceptive are n't you,'' I retorted back without thinking, `` For a waitress at an all-night diner?'' `` It's not that unusual you know, there's really only two sorts that end up here at this hour, truckers and people who're running,'' she gestured at the van again, `` and that ai n't no truck.'' `` Why do people run?'' I found myself asking. Just making small talk. Why would I care why other people run? Dolores shrugged, `` Lots of reasons, I guess. Some're crooks, running from the law. There's those in debt and ca n't afford to pay so they skip town. More and more these days though, there's folks who maybe just got tired of livin' their lives and they figure they could just up and vanish, walk out from their nagging wife and their crazy kids and their shitty jobs that probably would n't last long anyways. A lot of'em think they can just find a cabin in the woods somewhere and disappear for a few years, livin' off the land. Or maybe they imagine they can drive up to some big city and lose themselves in the crowds.'' I grunted perhaps a bit too loudly, thinking about how I had gotten here in the first place. Dolores seemed to be able to read my mind. `` Let me guess, you have no idea what you're doing here do you?'' She looked me up and down. `` I'd guess that's your delivery uniform right there, have n't bothered changing out of it. You just kept on driving, no idea where you wanted to go.'' `` Well, I was thinking maybe somewhere up north --'' `` Honey, if you really wanted to go, you'd have ditched that delivery van o' yours as soon as you could. You know as well as I do those things got GPS on'em right?''' I nodded slowly. I had thought about the GPS, but figured I just needed to leave the van somewhere before morning when they would be looking for it. `` And your cellphone, you got one do n't you? Still on you? ``, she retorted as an indistinct voice called out from beyond the small hole and a plate slid out. `` Yeah, `` I said, patting my left-hand pocket, `` but I turned it off. My wife must have called me a dozen times by now.'' `` So tell me hon, why have n't you thrown it out yet?'' `` Throw it out?'' I was caught a bit off guard, `` Well, I kind of paid good money for it, and I'm still on contract, so --'' I trailed off, knowing I was n't making sense. I shook my head. `` You think I should go back?'' `` Honey, I ai n't telling you what to do, it's your own damn life,'' Dolores said as she served up a plate full of bacon and eggs. `` But I see you, you keep glacin' at that there wedding ring on your hand, out at the van in the parking lot, and I see a man who ai n't ready to let go. You gon na run, you got ta be sure, you got ta cut clean.'' ``...'' My brow furrowed as I frowned at the bacon in front of me, perhaps for the first time in my life. `` You know, it was my birthday yesterday.'' It was Dolores' turn to grunt, `` Happy birthday then, but I hope you ai n't expecting a discount.'' She finally picked up the coffee pot, turned away from me, and walked over to the other patron who had motioned her over with his coffee cup. I picked up the fork and started eating. It was perhaps the best meal I've had in a long while.
[ CW ] Write a moving story in which a goldfish is the protagonist . But if you did n't read the prompt , you would n't know .	My whole life I've just been going in circles, the same routine every day. I stare at my reflection and try to see past it, but I never can. It seems there's so much more beyond my little sphere of comfort - would it kill me to get out once in a while? Who knows. I've never tried. I do n't even taste my food as I eat it. Has it lost its flavor? Did it ever have one? Did I just stop being able to enjoy it? These questions float around me like bubbles, before escaping into the beyond, as I never will. I see myself in my surroundings, everywhere I look. I've spent too long trapped in this place I call my world. There's no way out for me. Everything's turning upside down. Is this the end?
[ IP ] At least you 're not alone ...	How long has it been dark? It seems like it has been days since I felt the warmth of the radiant sun. You know when you sit waiting for the bus on a cold day but the sun is shining directly on you at that mid-morning angle. Gently warming your soul. Gone. That feeling is gone. All I can feel is the chill to my bones. Even shoving my hands under the layers of my clothes feels no different. Achingly cold. I lost the pins and needles. I feel hollow and dense at the same time. Rustling interrupts my frigid nightmare. Feeling the creasing in my neck as I turn to look around. Stiffened and harsh. My eyes curl around. I can feel them move around. I can feel that icy touch on my drying eyes. Am I shivering anymore? I resolved to rocking my body for the last.. long while. It has done little to shake the chill. I look deep into the trees. Black stilts breaking between deep navy terrain. Silver streams here and there from the luminous orb. At this point I can feel the membrane squishing and sliding against my lids. Wait. That. What was that? That red gleam. I go over the spot a few times raking it for the visual of the crimson detail. No. No. It's tricks. My frozen fingers curl to a fist and massage my eyes. Now I can really feel the gelatinous texture that lies underneath the thin layer of flesh. Black dots fade away and another red spot appears. I lock with it. It does not move. It does not waver. It does not fade. There is a phenomenon where your brain tries to make faces out of shapes and shadows. I hope this was one of those times.
[ WP ] Yay you found one . I can hear her , even now ...	`` Yay, you found one!'' I took the conch shell from her tiny hands and put the cold product of ocean, wind, and sand to my ear. `` I can hear her, even now...'' She jumped up and down, arms up and reaching. It was as if, if she stretched far enough, she could overcome any distance and achieve anything. If only she could make it that few extra feet. `` Give it back! I wan na listen, too!'' I smiled, the warmth of her attempts spreading throughout my being. I decided to make her efforts easier, closing the distance between her and the much-desired prize, a chance to hear her mother again. She snatched it with the speed of a child full of want, and gently placed it to her ear. Her face held all the seriousness one of four years could muster. Then, her face smoothed out as a simple bliss wiped away any sadness or fear or pain from before. `` I can hear her,'' she whispered. The salty wind carried the sound of her declaration to me. I smiled. `` I can too.'' Was it so long ago, we walked this beach together? `` There's god in conch shells,'' she had declared that day very matter-of-factly a particularly large shell affixed to the side of her head. Her eyes were closed, and she had this look on her face like... like she was completely happy. I had smiled at her then, and I smiled again now in remembrance. `` You do n't believe in God,'' I had reminded her. We had always differed on this point, but I did n't mind too much. `` Hmmmmm,'' she seemed to consider this conundrum as she swayed dreamily in the wind. `` I could, if he lived in conch shells.'' I had laughed. I did laugh. `` What's so funny, daddy?'' She had said this without looking at him. She was busy building a castle to protect the conch. The more she added, the more it looked like a shrine, or altar. It was like an offering to some unknown god of the ocean, of wind, of sand. `` The only thing funny here is your puny defenses!'' got on his knees, pushing mounds of sand to bolster her efforts. `` You know, there's God in that conch, too. So, we have to make it extra special.''
[ WP ] [ SF ] [ FF ] You are abruptly awaken with a loud hum and intensely bright light glaring through your window . You start to get out of bed as the window implodes , sending glass rocketing through your bedroom . As you approach the window , you lose consciousness .	Sunlight tore through her sealed eye lids. `` Must've left the window blinds open last night'' she thought. As she lifted her hand to shield her eyes, an odd sensation trembled through her body. The hair stood up on her arms as if it was almost electrified. It felt as if her entire bed was shaking. At this point her eyes, still sealed, had begun adjusting to the light. She attempted to open them and was met by a permeating light that illuminated her entire bedroom. She stumbled out of bed in attempt to close the blinds. Each step she took her foot was met with a firm vibration that seemed to emanate from the plush carpet. The air seemed to buzz with a light tone. Almost as if someone was gently tapping on a wine glass. She opened her eyes again underneath the buffer of her hand and she screamed as she stared at the shadows of each intricate vein and bone. As she moved closer towards the blinds she felt an intense heat, the vibration under her delicate soles intensified and ran up her body. She cracked her fingers as burning light tore into her retinas, she wailed as she grasped for the cord of the blinds. With a firm grasp she yanked down on the cord, she was shocked. The blinds were already shut. Immediatly the shrill sound of shattering glass tore through the air. She was buffered by splinters of broken wood as the blinds exploded. She flinched as millions of shards of hot glass ran across her entire body, each individual gem leaving a hot bloody trail. Her eyes snapped open, the faint outline of a car tumbling across her field of view, trees flexed backwards as if a hurricane was pushing them towards the Earth. The sky was illuminated by a brilliant dome shaped cloud. A warm wind rushed across her face and everything faded to black. She awoke lying in a puddle of blood, her entire body looked as if it had been run across a cheese grater. Hundreds of shards of glass lay embbedded in her mangled flesh. Imprints of pictures were burned into the walls and the air smelled of burnt flesh and hair. In a haze she glanced down, her left arm lay severed only inches away. As she pulled herself up towards the window she was met with pain that coarsed through her entire body. A barren wasteland lay for miles in front of her. As she glanced up she noticed the sky had taken on a chartreuse color littered by hundreds of small floating spheres. As she inhaled an acrid sensation hit the back of her throat. She gasped again met by the same sensation. She raised her hand to her hand to her throat and continued to gasp for air. As she struggled to breathe she noticed several of the floating spheres plummet to the Earth. As each one slammed into the ground, tiny thuds echoed across the wasteland. She watched with horror as these small spheres crumbled and hundreds of dark figures poured out. They formed what looked like formal ranks. Soon after many more spheres rocketed down and within seconds the sky was devoid of all but the green haze. Her vision blurred as she still struggled for air. As her legs began to fail she noticed several of these figures approaching. She tumbled onto her back as her blood splashed onto her face still gasping for air. She looked towards the window as two hooded figures peered in. She heard only a few words `` Thank... need... home........sorry.''
[ WP ] You are part of a bloodline that has been banned from Domino 's Pizza for 1,000 years . The time is almost up .	Do n't mention it. I'm happy to share my story with your readers. Before I taste this pizza, for people to understand why this all matters, I've got to give you a bit of a history lesson. I know you read that piece in the local paper about the 1000-year feud, and that that's a grippy headline, but the reporter did n't have time for the history of it all. He wrote up the facts, slapped a headline on it, and called it a day. So let me walk you through the history. Domino's is a much, much older company than most people realize. Its history goes way back. We're talking a time before the Medicis, when Italy was a collection of city-states and they'd have thrown tomatoes at you for even suggesting that Florence, Venice, and Rome might one day share a flag. Domino's back then was n't called Domino's, and it was n't into retail food. It was a family operation of wheat wholesalers. The Dominicos. They bought from around the Mediterranean and shipped the goods to Italy. When they were n't sinking rival ships and setting fire to granaries, they were plugging their family members into the papacy and poisoning dukes. That's who we were dealing with when this all started. A family of merchant princes who operated like thugs. My side of the equation was my ancestor, something like my great-great-great-plus twenty greats-grandfather, Adalberto Bellini. My family's kept good records throughout the centuries, and the current-day Domino's leadership were generous enough to allow me into their vault that they've got in the Roman catacombs. They've got old census records, trade deals, and illustrated brochures hand-written by monks in there. From all those sources, I've been able to put together a pretty good picture of the kind of man Adalberto was. He was a man, is what he was, a fierce one, who did n't take shit and who did n't stand down. There's a story I read, about how a trader once accused Adalberto of being a cheat. It seems Adalberto had paid the trader for some goods using low-quality silver. The trader confronted Adalberto in their town plaza with five men and demanded Adalberto make things right. Adalberto swore that he was n't a cheat, and that any man who thought to call him one must himself be a cheat. To prove that Adalberto was a man of his word, he declared his intention to beat the piss out of any man remaining in the town plaza ten minutes later. The locals cleared out, leaving Adalberto, the trader, and the five men. Adalberto beat the piss out of all six of them. I do n't know whether Adalberto was an honest dealer. I do n't know if he was a good businessman. What I know is that he was proud, and strong, and that, at a time when the Dominicos had a chokehold on the European wheat market, he went in on a venture to buy a boatload of wheat from Egypt. The shipment arrived in Rome on schedule, but the local Dominico in charge, the family scion Guisseppe, bribed the dockyards to delay unloading. A shipment of wheat back then, jammed into the hold of a leaky ship and infested with rats, did n't last more than a couple of months aboard ship. Adalberto knew what was happening. He was n't the type to take that lying down. So he went to talk to the dock workers and they told him to get in touch with their foreman. The foreman directed him to the floor manager, the floor manager to the business manager, until finally Adalberto the sweaty smalltown businessman shouldered his way into the offices of none other than Guisseppe Dominico. To make sense of their interaction, you've got to keep in mind two things. One: Adalberto saw every man as his equal. Two: Guisseppe Dominico saw every man as beneath him. Their conversation, I imagine, went something like this. Adalberto: Guisseppe, my friend, you will let my ship dock. Guisseppe: Who are you? Adalberto: Look out your window and you see her. She wallows in the river like a fat whore. Guisseppe: How did you get in here? Adalberto: Come, my friend, you do this for me and the two of us share a drink. The grappa is on me. Guisseppe: How did you get in here? Adalberto: I walked. Guisseppe: I do n't have money for you. Adalberto: Adalberto Bellini never asks for handouts. Guisseppe: Who? Adalberto: Me. Guisseppe: Who are you? Adalberto: Adalberto Bellini. Guisseppe: Very good. A good day to you. Adalberto: You will let my ship dock? Guisseppe: Your what? Adalberto: My ship. Guisseppe: How did you get in here? I imagine the conversation went on in that vein for a good long while. I'm drawing this part of my story from a monk's brochure written in a particularly shaky hand, a sign either of boredom or drunkenness. It's hard to say how exact these details are. What is known to a certainty, however, is that this conversation ended when Adalberto ejected Guisseppe from the office via the bay window. Beneath the window an apple merchant had set up his wagon, the chief feature of which was an umbrella mounted on a tall, pointed stick. The stick entered Guisseppe's body below the ribcage, passed through his liver, and pushed a mangle of intestines into the air. In the days that followed, Adalberto employed his newfound menace to convince the dockyard business managers, floor managers, foremen, and workers to unload his ship. He completed a sale and, by the time the Dominicos had recovered from the shock of their scion's death, had gathered together his family and fled the country. The Dominicos, in typical Italian fashion, swore a blood vendetta against my family. There's more to this story. There have been a number of times over the years when our families have reignited hostilities. But I wo n't get into that. Suffice to say that it is a millenial affair for me to be here in Domino's. Here we go. Let's eat some pizza. ... It's alright. this got away from me at the end there. sorry about that. i'd love any feedback you might have for me.
[ WP ] You are the main character where their main weapon is plot twists , how do they save/take over the world ?	First things first - find out what the bad guy is up to. That's straightforwards enough. I just need to investigate his cover, an island resort. I ask a few casual questions to the cleaning staff, and - plot twist! - one of them realizes I'm getting too close to the truth, knocks me out cold, and hauls me into Dr. Diablo's lair. Escaping is a little trickier. I end up stewing in my cell for hours, and I'm all but certain I'm about to be dragged off to some gruesome interrogation or execution when - plot twist! - it turns out that the guy who grabbed me is actually a mole. He slips me the key to the cell and tells me that everything important is hidden in the Restricted Labs. I sneak my way to the labs and discover they're locked up tight, with all the security a mad scientist can muster. It would n't just be a clever twist to sneak in there undetected, it would be flat-out impossible! After thinking a little longer, I finally decide to lurk near the entrance and try to eavesdrop on the minions going in and out. Sure enough - plot twist! - Dr. Diablo is moving up the timetable on his plans, and the Device, whatever that is, will be deployed tonight. This is my only chance to stop him! ... Well, that did n't go so well. I tried to make a shocking revelation about the Doctor's second-in-command so I could get him out of the picture before the grand finale, but - plot twist! - he turned out to be freakishly strong and he came out of nowhere and sucker-punched me. Now I'm strapped to a rocket that will launch Dr. Diablo's Doomsday Device into orbit and rain destruction upon the world. On the plus side, I know what the Doctor's plan is now. I think hard. This is the finale, I need a really good twist to get me out of this one. I concentrate, trying to convince myself that I'm still in control, that the hero always comes out alright no matter how bad things look for him. I smile confidently at the Doctor. `` What you have n't realized is, this was all according to plan.'' He laughs. `` If this is your idea of success, I'd hate to see you failing.'' `` You think killing me means you've won? I'm a distraction. I've just been stalling you until the cavalry arrives.'' Plot twist! One of his minions screams in panic that the internal alarms have gone off. A heavily armed force of SAS is kicking down doors and blowing up laboratories and generally making a mess of the good doctor's plans. Everyone panics, and the guards start rushing out of the room to set up defenses, distracting everyone from me. I'm still tied to a rocket with a rapidly ticking doomsday device, but - plot twist! - Q Branch gave me a micro-tool hidden in my cuff links, which I use to cut my way free. I jump one of the guards while they're distracted, wrestle his gun away, and put two rounds into the hulking second-in-command. At gunpoint, I force the doctor to stop the launch sequence. Dr. Diablo is aghast at the chaos. `` Impossible! Where did these soldiers come from? Did you call them here?'' Actually, that's a good question. I assumed that Q Branch had given me a homing beacon for when I needed to call in support, but it's hard to get a radio signal out of a villain's underground lair, buried under fifty feet of earth and concrete. By all rights, I should have been incommunicado ever since I first got captured. The more I think about it, the less sense this twist makes. Surely they would have found the beacon when they captured me. And would n't blowing up a peaceful island resort cause an international incident? I have a sickening sense of double vision. Visions of twists and possible endings fill the room like fog. Dr. Diablo is captured, but he could n't have been captured. The SAS team is n't on the island, but they're also breaching the room with guns drawn. The rocket is launching and also shut down on the pad and also exploding. The world is saved/destroyed. As the story unravels around me, I realize I've made a huge mistake. I've created a plot hole.
[ WP ] You 're a straight male starting his senior year in high school at a new school . After a few months , however , your classmates start doing strange things around you and you slowly realize that everyone attending the school ( except you ) is gay .	`` Hey, Derek, I just found out that Chad's gay, did you know?'' `` Yeah, Mike, I'm gay too. All of the guys at this high school are. Girls too.'' `` Huh, that explains a lot, I guess. Those are some pretty crazy odds, right?'' `` Yeah, I guess. Is that a problem?'' `` Nah, I love you guys, you're my friends. I'm glad that nobody makes a big deal out of it.'' `` Cool, happy to hear it. Hey, you want to go to Jerry's after school? He's having a party, there are gon na be some girls from other schools there. You'd be the only straight guy, and we'll play you up for them.'' `` That would be amazing. This is the best school ever. You guys are all really good friends.'' `` Haha, we like you too, Mike. It's good to get some diversity in this school. Now let's go to football practice before coach gets mad.'' THE END. EDIT: Okay, I get the downvotes, because this is n't really /r/writingprompts worthy writing, but if you're downvoting because you disagree with the story, please explain why. I'm not sure what the point of this prompt is, and there are no other stories to compare mine to as of writing this, but this prompt bothered me the second I read it, and I did actually invest some time and thought into writing this little dialogue. My issue is n't that this prompt will inevitably result in a cliche `` reverse discrimination'' story, my issue is that this prompt is going to lead to stories that try to explain homosexuality, or regard it as something that can be manipulated and altered. I definitely do think that people should write stories inspired by this prompt, but before they do, I would implore them to think of how an all gay high school would be different beyond the kids being gay, and then I'd ask them to ask themselves why they think it would be different at all. Gay kids are just kids, stop telling them any different.
[ WP ] You have just created a robot that reacts emotionally based on the music it hears . The government breaks into your lab to steal him , you bring up Spotify .	I was a lonely kid and he was my best friend. I built him from scratch and gave him a name; his name was John. I named him John because I wanted to make him as human as possible, which is why I had him react to the music I played. Music was a big part of my life. I always played guitar when I was lonely, which was all the time, and when I wasn ’ t playing guitar I was listening to music. I made him so he ’ d feel the same emotions that I would when we listened to music, so that we would have something in common. There ’ s not a lot you can have in common with a robot, so this was really important to me. John was always nice to me. John listened to me play and John would hang out with me when I wanted to escape into my Spotify playlists. Everyday we ’ d connect with these emotions and these songs. One day after school, I started up Spotify, but I did something that I wouldn ’ t normally do; I put my playlist on shuffle. As the song started, [ “ Worthless ” by Teen Suicide ] ( https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=fxG4L1sCXlo ), John woke up and turned around to me. “ Hey John. ” I said, as I lay down on my bed. John looked at me; he asked if everything was alright. I looked at him strangely and realized the music had prompted him to have some sort of concern for me. “ Oh yeah, school was miserable like always, but whatever. Here, let me change the music to something not as edgy. ” I get up, and hit next on Spotify. [ “ Ponyboy ” by Surf Curse ] ( https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=VIb3dqmlHzI ) plays. Finally something upbeat and we can talk like friends again. “ Let's go out We're still young We can take my car We're leaving soon We can go To our homes Kill our parents Hit the road ” John looked at me again, this time with a blank gaze. “ You promised me everything was gon na be alright wooo oohhh ohhhh ” “ I ’ m sorry, you feel this way, but I promise you I can help. ” John says. He gets up and moves toward the door. I rush to the door confused as to what is happening; not realizing the lyrics of the song was influencing his actions. He goes down the stairs to the living room, where my parents were. He just stares at them. As I see him staring I realize what is about to happen. I shout at my parents to leave. They look at me confused and see John at the doorway. They looked frightened. John walks toward them and I run down the stairs to stop him. I tackle him and tell my parents to leave. My parents grab their keys and run out of the door and call the police. “ John, what were you going to do? ” I ask while still grabbing a hold of him. “ What you told me to. ” He replies, still trying to wrap his head around what was happening. “ No, John, no. I ’ m fine, really. ” The police arrive and question my parents and I. My parents knew that John was one of my only friends and they knew I could fix him, but they had to tell the police about John. Later, the police enter my room and see me playing guitar and John listening to me, smiling. They ask if they could speak to John, to which I responded to ask him. Since I was playing happy music, John happily obliged. Questions were asked and answers were given. John had obviously lied to the police as to what exactly happened, but everybody ’ s story lined up and the police left confused and worried. A couple of days pass, and John and I continued listening to music as normal, although I was more careful as to what I was playing now. All of a sudden I hear helicopters overhead. I look outside to see the helicopter circling outside and I see armored trucks stop outside of my house. John was now a threat to the safety of the city. A man in a suit turned on his megaphone and instructed me to give John to them, so they can put him in a safe area secured by the government. I, of course, did not want this to happen. “ I ’ m sorry sir, but I cant do that. ” I yell out of the window. I look toward John, he is still happy as can be because of the music I was playing. The man in the suit responds, “ Son, you either hand him over or we take him by force. ” I look down; I then look at John. “ I ’ m sorry sir, I can ’ t bring myself to do that. He ’ s my only friend. You don ’ t understand. ” I look back outside and my parents are outside with him. “ If that ’ s your decision. ” A soon as the man says this armored soldiers break down the house ’ s front door and for the first time John feels a different emotion instead of being influenced solely on music. He becomes angry and confused. I can see it in his face. He goes to my computer and changes the music. [ “ The Ride of the Valkyrie ”, Wagner ] ( https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=XRU1AJsXN1g ). He turns the volume up, his eyes turn red. John doesn ’ t even look at me. He runs out of the door, goes down stairs. I hear gunshots, I hear bodies hit the floor. He comes back up eyes still, red. “ I ’ ll protect us. I promised you everything is gon na be alright. ” John says. He can not read the look of horror on my face. More men are about to enter the building. I panic, I don ’ t know what to do. I go to my laptop and change the music. I switch it to [ Handel ’ s “ Water Music ” ] ( https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=cnn3TVBDtcA ). The new music does not stop him, nor does it relax him. It plays into the murderous rage he is now in. Music plays, men die. I don ’ t know what to do. They need more backup. John comes back into my room and sits down eyes still red. “ John please stop. You ’ re getting us both killed. ” My words do not faze him. He starts the speaker on his body, connects it to my computer via Bluetooth. I hear the Freddie Mercury sing, [ “ Don ’ t stop me now. I ’ m having such a good time. ” ] ( https: //youtu.be/HgzGwKwLmgM? t=1m11s ) All those lonely nights, all those songs caused him to crack. Caused him to lose control. They haven ’ t killed John or I yet, because they want to study him. They want me to explain him. More men arrived. The man in the megaphone has one final warning, “ We will kill you both if you do not stop him from killing my men! ” he shouts. I don ’ t know what to do. I realize, maybe if those lonely nights, those songs of anxiety put him in a hole, more of those songs will get him back into this hole. I run, to my computer go on Spotify and play, [ “ Invisible ” by Dandelion Hands ] ( https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=QWoXFssFiM0 ). The lyrics begin. His eyes instantly turn a dark blue. More men run into the house. John looks at me, and says, “ I just want to be invisible. ” He turns off. The men with guns enter my room. They shout, but I couldn ’ t make out the words. John had just given up. I put my hands in the air. They surround my robot friend and me. That was the first time in a long time, I felt like I wasn ’ t invisible. They carry him and I out. They take him away in the car the man in the suit was in. I get taken away in a police car. I didn ’ t know what was going to happen next, but I just wanted to be invisible again.
[ WP ] A billionare goes to heaven after donating his entire fortune to charity . This bites him in the ass when it turns out money is extremely important in heaven .	`` What's up baby. Lookin' spiffy kid. Girl, are n't you a beaut today.'' Jim Riggins swaggered down the gold-paved street with as much authority in death that he ever did in life. Heaven was everything he imagined and more. He crouched down - worried about creasing his three thousand dollar Italian suit - to wipe his hand on the golden sidewalk. Damn, he thought, and I thought my golden toilet seat was ostentatious. Shit, I should n't say damn. Crap! Riggins realized he might need to watch his tongue when he found the big man. If he found him. He knew appearances meant everything, especially the first, which is why the only asset he did n't sell off for charity was this exact suit he was wearing - the suit he was buried in. Riggins continued to walk down the street, searching for anything that could lead him to the man who could give him some answers, to the god that was in charge of this place. You see, Riggins was n't an especially religious man. His poor mother spent many a Sunday crying her eyes out at her darling boy's refusal to attend mass, and the moment he turned eighteen he was out the door, on his way to New York and Wall Street and destined wealth. But at the same time, he still in the back of his mind believed in a higher being, in a heaven and a hell and whatever the hell was in between. 30 years and 52 billion dollars later, he was diagnosed with stage IV lung cancer and given a month to live. Fuckin' cigs. Riggins thought to himself. Shouldn'ta never started, shoulda' stopped. So Riggins spent the first three weeks of the end of his life like any man would: with hellish debauchery. I showed Jordan Belfort how a real Wall Street man parties, did n't I. But that last week was when it finally hit him - he was leaving Earth. Not all of him, but the only part that mattered - his consciousness. Riggins did n't accept the fact that he would simply end, he knew that he had to go somewhere after death. And he was determined that place would n't be hell. In an effort to save his soul, he turned to the only real asset he had left - wealth. No loving wife, no darling children, only piles and piles of cash. He thought of his heroes, the conquering robber barons Vanderbilt and Rockefeller, and took a hint from their playbook. On his deathbed, he signed away the billions of dollars he had spent his whole career slaving to gain to a series of charities his lawyer and PR team had thought up. He'd go down in history as the greatest philanthropist to ever grace the Earth, and no doubt would earn a spot in heaven. Even JC himself did n't help as many people as I did. Suck on that, Gates. Out of nowhere, Riggins walked straight into a sign. `` Jesus, why is this frickin' thing here.'' He stepped back and read the words: GOD - 1 TRUTH WAY. NEXT RIGHT. `` Well that's easy enough,'' he muttered under his breath, `` though you'd think walking into a sign in heaven would n't hurt so damn much.'' Rubbing his head, he began the trek to see the big guy. Even Riggins was impressed, and he had owned his fair share of mansions. The residence was awe-inspiring. Adorned in precious metals, built with the trained eye of a Renaissance Italian architect, covered with marble statues surrounding the Grecian columns, Riggins stood with his mouth agape. Finally he collected his wits and strode confidently down the lengthy driveway ( this golden too, he noticed ), and banged the knocker on the door. `` Please state your name and reason for request into the microphone'' a tired voice sputtered out of a speaker in the wall. Riggins leaned in and complied. The massive mahogany doors swung open in sync. Riggins hesitated, then sauntered through the doorway. He stopped at what looked like a reception desk. Sitting behind was a weaselly looking man, pushing dollar bills through a money counter and tallying totals. `` So I'm assuming you do n't have an appointment?'' The receptionist inquired quite condescendingly, without looking up. `` Um, I do not.'' replied Riggins, awkwardly gawking at the piles of cash he saw in front of him. Even in his life he never saw so much straight cash in one place at the same time. The receptionist sighed unsurprisingly and turned around to his laptop. `` Hey that's the new Mac they just announced! I did n't know they started selling those.'' Riggins thought out loud. `` They do n't,'' the receptionist replied, still without looking at Riggins, `` but once Steve Jobs came a knockin', we decided we could gain a little bit more outta the deal. Now we'll get anything Apple designs months ahead of your little world. Back to the topic at hand. What's your name again?'' `` Riggins - er, Jim Riggins. Junior.'' Riggins winced, never liking the junior added onto his name. `` Hey, I recognize you!'' The receptionist finally had looked up. `` You're that sleazy Wall Streeter who dodged the SEC back when your country's economy dove into a shithole. That was some grade A bullshittin' you did, man. Alright, that should make things easier, just a quick transaction - wait a minute, this ca n't be right. It lists your balance as zero dollars, zero cents.'' `` Yup!'' Riggins proclaimed proudly. `` All my net worth I donated to charity.'' Grinning from ear to ear, he did n't get the reaction he was expecting. `` Of course you did! Of course you had to go and make my job more difficult. Now I have to go wake up the big man, and you know he ca n't be disturbed before noon.'' The receptionist's face turned even more sour than Riggins could think possible, and shrugged wearily out of his chair. `` Just wait over in that room. No, not the one with the gold doorknob, that's for first-class customers. Yeah that one. Be careful, I do n't think its been cleaned out recently.'' And with that the receptionist walked out. Shit, Riggins thought, What the hell is going on here? At least an hour later, Riggins was woken up from a quick snooze by a banging on the door. `` Riggins! Get out here!'' he heard the receptionist yell. Wearily, he gathered up his dignity from the dirt covered floor and walked out of the cracked wooden door. Immediately, he had to block his eyes, for a blistering light was now centered in the room. `` Hi Jim,'' a deep voice spoke out of the light, `` I am your God.'' Stepping out from behind the light was a man of medium build, wearing a slim cut fashionable gray suit. He broke out a dazzling smile, and Riggins could see a thousand stars in a thousand universes in the man's eyes. `` Walk with me.'' In a daze, Riggins did as commanded. `` So I heard on your deathbed you donated your entire fortune to charity. Well, why'd you go and do a silly little thing like that?'' The man flashed His grin again. `` I-... I-... Are n't I supposed to do good things?'' Riggins managed to squeak out. `` Well down on your Earth, I guess so. Do n't they ever teach you interuniversal economics? When you die and come to this plane of existence, the net worth you accrued in your life rises with you. Sure, the money is still down there, but that equal amount rises with you. And because you had nothing left when you passed your last breath, nothing came up with you.'' He ended His inadvertent frown, ushered Riggins into an office like room, and sat behind the ornate desk in the middle. The electronic placard on the desk simply shone GOD. `` You see why this causes a problem? Running this place is expensive! People come to heaven and do n't want to work, but someone needs to repave those streets with gold every week. And boy, do they expect a lot of money for it. Every departed soul that comes here creates another burden on our economy. So two centuries ago I enacted a tax on dead souls. You see what I'm getting at?'' `` Not really, sir...'' `` Well we ca n't just have a freeloader walking around up here when everyone else is paying their fair share.'' Behind the desk, His smile disappeared, and an intense stare and stonefaced countenance replaced it. Riggins felt like a thousand souls were sitting in judgement of him. Agonizingly he looked away, unable to meet the gaze any longer. `` You'd put a burden on our economy,'' he continued, still staring, his voice now beginning to crackle with aggression where there was once a playful undertone. `` And if you ca n't pay the tax like the rest of us up here. You have no place here. '' Thunder boomed as He stood up from behind His desk. `` Goodbye, Jim.'' The floor gave way underneath him, and Riggins grabbed in desperation onto anything. He felt the placard on his fingertips and looked up out of the abyss. Wind swirled, pulling him in. Riggins noticed out of the corner of his eye the electronic placard was shorting out. GOD slowly flickered away, and Riggins barely read the words that replaced it: LUCIFER. He looked up, and the man behind the desk spoke in a whisper `` Shh. No one else has noticed.'' Riggins fell, and was gone.
[ WP ] on their 16th birthday , humans are given a box of 20 heart seeds . Eating someone else 's heartseed means you are gauranteed to meet them at least once more before either of you can die .	Sitting down, Joseph reached into his pocket again to feel the box holding his little hearts. The box had it's own heart-shape and was clearly worn - it had been passed down by his father, who had received it from his father before him. He was just gazing outside, a young woman passing by with auburn hair that flowed like the ocean waves he'd remembered from his grandfather's village. `` Excuse me, do you know what you'd like to drink?'' He heard a voice ask, it was the waiter now just coming to his table. `` Just a water''. The woman from before came into the restaurant, sitting ahead of him. He'd wondered what she was like, `` surely pleasant'', Joseph thought. He longed for some excuse to meet her, some innocent reason to know her. `` Are you from around here?'' Joseph asked, his voice hardly heard across the table. But she did hear and she turned and all at once a pair of eyes, a golden pair of eyes, met his and he stumbled and swallowed and asked her again, `` I just arrived, and I'd been wondering where I should go before I leave, would you know any such places?''. She did and she answered, her voice full and soft and caring that this man may not experience the same love for a city she'd known her whole life. When it was done and she'd answer as best as she could, Joseph gave her his thanks and smiled. `` Coward'', he thought, for not asking her more. Not even a name. The woman stood and began to leave, `` to the bathroom'', Joseph assumed. Himself ready to leave, he reached a hand into his heart-filled pocked. He smiled and left and thought some more, `` I'll give myself another chance''. Turning, he saw the woman lifting her glass. She'd sipped and swallowed his heart.
[ WP ] Write a story about how two strangers become best friends , without ever saying a word to each other .	I'm not mite and neither is she, I just want to pint that out. I sat at my desk like I always do waiting for the lecture to start, I was 1 in 5 people that took this class so Boone say close to each other. Today however that was n't true, because today, she came. Without warning, not even saying a word she sat beside me. I was shocked but did n't say anything, what was there to say? I wrote a note to her on my paper I front of me, a cute flirtatious note. She smiled and wrote back. Everyday for the rest of the semester this happened, we never said a word to each other but we did write to each other. At the end of the semester I asked her if she wanted to get coffee with me, via note of course, but even through writing it down I still made it feel awkward. She wrote down a reply saying, `` yes, but we ca n't talk on this date,'' she smiled and winked at me as she wrote this. So we dating, movies coffee and dinners, but we never said a word to each other. For years this is how we did things, dating but not talking, ever. I finally got up the courage to go buy a ring and get on one knee. I proposed, as soon as I got on my knee she nodded and smiled her beautiful smile, still never saying a word to each other as our little joke. She did n't last as long as me. Her funeral was on a Tuesday I remember because it was the hardest day of my life. When I got up to her coffin I said my first words to her, `` I love you, I miss you already and for now on I will never speak a word I will only write,'' I whispered softly. That was 5 years ago and here I am today, writing this. She was beautiful and I still miss her. I kept my promise by never saying another word I'm silent almost mute by choice. Now you know my story, now you know my wife and I have never spoken. Now you know why I do not speak.
[ WP ] Write a short scene , a prologue of sorts , of the hero before he finds himself suddenly thrust into his life changing adventure .	`` Dear Holly, `` Surprise! I bet you were n't expecting to hear from me after all these years! Well, buddy, let me tell you where I've been all this time. Did you guess from the stamps or the postmark? I've been in Vienna all this time. Let me tell you, it's a different world. `` All of Europe got blown to hell during the war, and Vienna did n't fare any better. Now that peace broke out, things are slowly getting back to normal. It's taking a long time to clear all this rubble, though. When was the surrender? Four years ago? A lot of buildings still have n't been cleared or rebuilt yet. Some things are still short at the moment. Probably the new government is n't helping. The city is under occupation right now: we've got our sector, along with the British, the French and the Soviets as well as a neutral zone in the center. It's like Berlin, but they have n't had to organize us an airlift. ( Not yet! ). `` Despite everything, I've found you can make a good living here. The oppotunities are there for the taking. I've a nice import / export set up that's doing very well right now. Through it, I've met some amazing like-minded friends. I have a great apartment, and I've met a wonderful girl. She's completely fallen for me. She's originally from Czechoslovakia, she works in the theater - I have n't been to see her perform, work keeps me away. It's a little awkward, though. She's not an Austrian citizen, so I'm worried that she may get deported. I'm not sure what I'd do if that happened.'' `` How's the writing coming along? You always wrote a lot before I came to Vienna, are you still keeping that up? We get the major newspapers, but I do n't see many American books in the bookshops I go to. Any they sell are just thinly-veiled Soviet propaganda about the evils of our country. I'd kill for one of your Westerns! You've got such a great way with words, Holly. Your writing would be a breath of fresh air to these people. `` Damn it. Writing this makes me realize how long it's been since we last met. You must come over to visit. No need to reply and arrange anything. Just get on the first flight to Paris, and then take a train to Vienna. I'd love to have you over. We can catch up about old times, you can take inspiration from this great city ( what's left of it, at least! ) and you can lend a hand with my business to keep you going while you're here. Send a telegram as you leave Paris, and I'll meet you on the station platform when you get here.'' `` Your dearest friend, Harry Lime 15 Stiffgasse, Vienna, March 1949.'' `` PS: Do n't worry about learning the language, you can get by in English. I've hardly learned any since I got here! `` PPS: If you're worried about medical expenses while you're here, do n't worry. I know good men who are reasonable in this regard.''
[ WP ] Write a story in exactly 800 words .	The door was propped open with the baby gate. Unfortunately the open door meant that John would stop by on his way to the sink. We heard him grinding the beans and knew our time alone was short. We both turned out office chairs back toward our screens located on opposite walls. When the footsteps drew nearer, we turned to stare at the empty door frame. He positioned his body under the neon lights the lined the frame and his grin forewarned is that a story was coming. He was in sweats. At the moment the lights were red. “ oh yeah! ” Paul was a man of few words. John having put on enormous weight did look like the kool-aid man at that very moment. “ Hey John. What's up? ” I decided to start the conversation thus limiting the amount of time we did simply leering at one another. “ You're both here. Good! ” John just got promoted to our manager and was getting used to being a figure of authority. He was n't starting this day off on a high note. Paul and I sat in our office suited up for the presentation we were giving later to the department. He was the third person on our panel, and his sweats reaked. “ I came over now to let you know that I've decided on letting you guys do the presentation today without me. ” Small burdon removed from us. He looked like a marshmallow in those clothes. “ After my workout, ” he continued oblivious to my thoughts, “ I sat down on the bench and put on my dress clothes. ” “ looks like you took them off after you put them back on John. ” Paul chimed in. John seemed to let the comments roll unnoticed and continued. “ Buckled my belt. Tucked in my shirt. Took a step toward my shoes, bent over and I heard a quick ripping noise. The noise coupled with a new sensation of air flowing to my pants meant that I had to switch back into my sweats. Boss Director is n't in the office this morning so I figured I just come in like this. ” This was the third story of pants ripping under the force of his girth in a month. We were pretty sure that the more John went to the gym the more he ate. Unfortunately going to the gym was n't paired with working out at the gym. John was caught a couple of times in the deep end of the pool under the diving board using four kickboards as a floatation device. That evidence is still Paul's desktop wallpaper today. I glanced over at Paul and his face said everything I was thinking. Then Paul said everything I was thinking, “ You making a whole pot of coffee or just enough for you? ” I decided a little empathy should be added to the situation. I opened my mouth prepared to assist in alleviating the stress caused to Join on the morning. My mouth was open for ten seconds before the awkward silence was broken by John coughing into his elbow. I had nothing for him. Last month he told us that he bought used socks from the Goodwill across the highway to make winter shoes for his car. At least the issues he's had with pants this month generally come from something that is fixable. “ John, ” words somehow made their way up my throat. “ I think it's time you walk to work. You live two blocks away. I think it's time you admit your hair on the left side of your head is four times longer than hair on the right. You do that to make an epic comb over. The fact is most days the hair on the right is subject to your cow kick and just points up, like an lop sided mohawk. ” The gulp that emanated from Paul's body was audible across the room. The rigidity of John's body was at a maximum. The sweats now turning darker due to the actual sweat coming from the main sweat areas of John's body. A look of determination crossed into John's eyes and his put one foot forward into the office. “ i drive to work to give my blind neighbor a ride home from her job three miles away. She had no one to take care of her and I'm the only one in her life who will help out. I'm her method of transportation. Her only friend. Her ride to the grocery store. Her way to the bank. I walk her dog and feed her fish. I cook her dinner. I help her down the stairs when they are covered in ice and shovel them when they are covered in snow. And what thanks do I get? She gives me a damn fine haircut! Coffee ready in five ”
[ WP ] It was a normal textbook up til page 42 , then things got weird .	# # # # # # [ ] ( # dropcap ) The textbook on the small desk of the camping trailer shifted beneath my hands as I flipped to the next page, my confidence of the material's subject and information more or less accepted as understood, but not without large gaps of the opposite. I was finally improving, although I questioned how much of my progress might be attributed to memorization of the material in place of real comprehension. Books in this region were rather expensive, and as such I only had one carefully selected from the bargain section of a trading-post's lowest shelves. I pressed on, my eyes scanning carefully further, my brain a poor and inefficient sponge of the knowledge held before it as the light beyond the thick window dimmed. The night was almost upon the land of Doterra's Northern Territories, evening slipping past the late afternoon with speed. The final traces of sunlight were already fleeing as thick candles found themselves perched on lofted window sills, and taverns were filled aglow by expensive essences of mana. The rich feel of their light almost reminded me of neon signs, though no one alive beyond me would recognize such a reference. Regardless, outside my experience as those second mentioned light sources were on this particular evening, from the sound of merriment I could consider some small details with reasonable confidence. From my place in the stables, I knew that the closest location, of the 'Oar and Swindler had found itself frequented by a larger population than normal. Indeed, if I chose to listen, distracting myself from the more important task at hand, I could almost make out the playful sounds of ale being poured from heavy wooden kegs, or the words behind the shouts and conversations. I could even recognize the voices where many of my recently found Guild-blessed companions were undoubtedly partaking in drunken comradely. If the circumstances allowed, I might have joined them. Unfortunately, the circumstances did not allow. If I were to measure, in no way metaphorically- but instead by stacking copper upon itself carefully in a precarious but standing tower of wealth: I was up to my eyeballs in debt. Add that fact and write it down beside my last case of ammunition, and a tank to my rather unique and unsupported vehicle now running dangerously low on fuel: My state of mind was not quite prepared to relax and accept the state of things. If anything, I was in a perspective of the opposite: Projects and ideas were swarming at my mind, but running against firm barriers based in my own shortcomings. I had all that above and more to worry myself sick over, and though drinking myself into oblivion was a proud and traditional practice by many, I could not accept it. Truthfully, the act would be a simple decline and slipping slope down towards a rocky bottom: Through leaving tomorrow's problems for tomorrow's me, I would have to give up the few things I still possessed, and that was a lifestyle I had struggled against by my most basic nature for as long as my memory stretched; and as such never quite mastered. Instead of joining the many voices distant in drunken merry times, I was learning to read, and all too sober for it. Worst of all, I felt I had little choice in the matter, which only made the injustice grow in my mind. For whatever luck had placed me in a world where language could be comprehended, failed to do the same by means of script and lettering. Beyond the few portions of writing and books present in the hatchback and camping trailer, I was illiterate as a goat-herder from the dark ages. This fact was akin to an annoying and evasive swarm of flies, that constantly leap in front of my face to block the information once readily available beyond. From store, to sign, to scribbled direction from the hand of an exasperated shopkeeper: I was helpless as a babe should the need to interpret words on paper arise. And so, much like the worst memories ( the likes of which any past the age of schooling might consider naught but an awful gray memory of boredom and unpleasant times ) my I'd taken to studying late into the evening by means of headlamp, candle and rechargeable batteries. A small victory only in the fact of avoiding the cost of wax and wick by means of technology outside the grasp of even the most experienced Mages in this world. Still, smugness of my tiny victory ( one of the few I seemed to be allowed as of late ) I never thought I would have to redo the process of learning something so basic. Then again, I'd never expected to awaken in another plane of existence either, and that occurrence had thrown many of my life expectations out the camper window and into disarray. World jumping, however unexpected and unexplained, was completely outside of my control. I had listed it upon the mental filing of `` Issues to review at a later date'' and passed it over for the simple fact I lacked any semblance of control over the circumstances. Indeed, even for all my careful conversations and efforts to familiarize myself with the world I now resided, not a single soul had ever heard of such a thing. Not even the wizened Wizards or Battle-Mages who frequented the Adventurer's Guild of Jarl Congrad. For all the man's ruthless fame, it had done me no good beyond a peculiar form of indentured servitude and a concerning lack of sleep and coin. Nights frequented in the Tavern often meant spending the simple pittance of my careful budgeting on Sola's abnormal appetite- one which strayed from from the folklore and Tolkien genre I'd often imagined those of Elvish descent might follow. Reliable a companion as she'd been thus-far, Sola ate and drank twice my capacity, and with the recent addition of a strange young boy with a legitimate tail that defied logic ( although not much more than anything else in this god-awful and strange world I'd landed ) recent weeks had quickly found the purse emptying at a greater rate than which it once filled. Another page turned beneath my headlamp's lighting, and another still, faint flickering of some cheerful fae floating on by like an acknowledged blur in my eye. From words once completely unfamiliar I was slowly making progress, discerning what was once impossible. The language was oddly similar to English, if English was written backwards, and the letters were scripted in combinations over-top one another. Still, regardless of my difficulties, I pressed on strong. Tonight, more than any night prior my progress was astounding. As my eyes fell on the forty-first page, nimble fingers lifting an turning onward towards that which followed, I felt a sense of pride. This too would be understood. I thought patiently to myself. This too would be comprehended and conquered, adding a skill to my repertoire most needed in the recent days. The forty-second page reached the light, and I eyed it pensively, staring at the bright ink that emboldened the title of profound and twisting symbols underlined in a thick black bar of emphasis. Word by word it pieced together, fragments of understanding clicking like puzzle pieces in the dark. '' An Introduction to the workings of Magic. `` I sounded the words carefully as they came to me, scanning ahead to the small text below. '' Written by Merlin of the Blue Cloak, Caster of Virtue, and Voice of Dragons. `` -- -- This Story is a continuation of a bunch of other writing prompts: [ Start here ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/51f8ag/wp_youre_such_a_powerful_magician_that_life_is/d7bn3g2 ) [ Previous ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/58n219/ip_a_sacrifice_to_the_abyss/d91sglp/ ) [ NEXT ] ( https: //www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/59cb67/wp_as_you_were_driving_two_black_cats_cross_the/d98huis/ ) -- --
[ WP ] It 's 1949 , WWII rages on . The Germans completed their own nuclear weapons project . The beach assault on New York begins under the darkness of nuclear winter .	Flynn sat in the damp trench, covered in the crusty blood and mud of both the Axis soldiers and the Allies that sat next to him. He gripped the BAR in his hands, loading in another magazine and chambering a round as he slowly looked up; another horde of Axis charging towards him. He quickly ducked back to the safety of the trench, checking how much ammo he had left. Two magazines left, he thought to himself as he unclipped the BAR's bipod. He was the last surviving member of his squad, and he was n't going to let them take over the rest of New York. The Germans managed to complete their own Manhattan Project. They called it'Project Zerstörung', after the idea of total destruction of the enemies they fought. It was simple; they sent some spies over to the headquarters at Hanford, and stole some of the blueprints, then extracted via ship. They finalized the first nuclear bomb in 1947, nicknaming it the'Großer Gott'. On the fifth of December of 1948, at approximately 9:32am; the bomb was dropped onto the center of New York. President Harry S. Truman died of radiation poisoning and third-degree burns about two days later. They decided to launch the assault at February 10th, only a few months after the bomb hit. Flynn gripped the trigger of the BAR, unloading the bullets down range. Two of the Axis soldiers were hit, the bullets smashing through their upper chests and causing blood to splurt from the bullet holes; screaming as they fell onto the hard and cold dirt. One of the Axis raised the StG44, opening fire at Flynn as two of the other Axis soldiers opened fire with the Gewhers they had. Bullets smashed the dirt across Flynn, quickly reaching for one of his grenades; pulling the pin and doing a blind toss at them. A deafening explosion echoed around the battlefield; one of the soldiers were almost entirely annihilated by the blast, save for one of his arms and the helmet he wore. About four other Axis soldiers were hit by the shrapnel and blast; falling to the ground as they still gripped the trigger, bullets flying around in random directions. Flynn kept on firing from the BAR, two more fell as the bullets flew. Suddenly, it stopped firing. Flynn looked over to the BAR, and seeing this gave him out and left him in the open. He did n't even feel the bullet that smashed his brain and flew out the other side of his head. All he felt was a loud boom, a sharp spike of pain; then blackness. Despite the resistance of the American Military, the Germans overtook the state of New York, advancing into the rest of the country.
[ WP ] Everyday , a battle wages on in the office restroom . Bill vs the Urinal Cake .	Every day. Every, single day. It's been years. `` It's bound to happen sooner or later, I might as well get it over with,'' Bill thought as he finished his third cup of coffee. `` This is it. Today's the day.'' He pushes the swinging door, the faint sound of running water echoing from the tile all around him. He turns the first corner and knows immediately that today will not be the day. Every stall is taken, but it's too late to turn back. He waits in the futile hope that someone will finish and he can take their place, but he knows already that he has cut it too close and he will need to use the urinal once again. He struggles to maintain composure, looking anywhere but the urinal, he catches sight of himself in the mirror and immediately looks away in disgust. He knows what will happen here, but that does n't mean he has to like it. The time has come, and Bill knows that he has passed the point of no return. He approaches the urinal and sees, fresh and new, his lowly, pink, worst nightmare. In the heat of the moment, the dread lifts and is replaced by catharsis. Accepting the inevitable, Bill finds himself at peace. From here, everything proceeds according to routine, but at the last moment Bill finds himself struck by inspiration. As he washes his hands, Bill can see the front of his khaki trousers splattered with urine, as always. But today, Bill does n't mind so much. Today, Bill shit in the urinal.
[ WP ] You are falling out of the top floor window on a skyscraper knowing that there will be a full 8.81 seconds before you hit the ground . What thoughts do you fill those 8.81 seconds with ?	Wind whistled through my hair as I gazed over the city. The world felt clouded, dark and foreboding, everything occurring around being the product of hate. I could not help but contemplate how unfair it was: I had succeeded academically, struggled my way through university, and risen to the top of of the long list of applicants to the job of my dreams. I was young and every reward I claimed had been fairly won. Each of my successes and failures were my own responsibility. And in an instant it was all taken away. But none of that mattered anymore as I stood there on the ledge. A gathering formed far below, looking up. Members of the police force and fire department scurried around in their vehicles appearing no larger than ants. None of them cared for me. So many had taken the jump already, why should I not join them? We were all going to die soon anyway. Taking one last look at the room, I saw Chelsea's mouth moving but I barely heard the words. `` John, do n't! There has to be another way!'' She always was an optimist, but nothing could be done. My fate had already been decided. I gave her a soft smile and stepped forward. For a brief moment it felt as though I was hanging in the sky like some character in an old cartoon, until gravity, the eternally impartial mistress, took her hold, pulling downward and leaving all the pain behind far above. My watch continued to tick away the seconds of my life as it was designed to do. One. Two. Three. Four. I did not regret my decision. It was the only way. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. The last thing I saw was the second plane. - I do n't post to this sub often but I would like some critisism. I set it up to sound like a depression-motivated suicide but the character is actually one of the many who jumped during 9/11. How well did I do the foreshadowing and reveal? The world was literally clouded with smoke. The emergency response were n't there to talk one person down from jumping, they were responding to the first crash. They do n't care about him not because he believes that no one cares, but because they're not there because of him. It's often said that everyone is going to die eventually, or soon, but in this case it was literal.
[ WP ] A utopia is revealed to be a dystopia .	The disconnection occurred before I had a chance to say goodbye. I had it all in the NetWorld. A virtual wife, a virtual daughter, a virtual job. Why could n't I have been content with that? The world was mine for the taking and I let it slip through my fingers. But I did it for the right reason. I needed to know the truth. Brooke was more than a program - a virtual wife that loved me like no other. She was a figment of another, living, breathing Brooke. And she found me in my own perfect world. And she was in pain. So I broke out. I poked one too many holes in the NetWorld. The disconnection was quick and sudden, like a heart attack that you knew was happening every step of the way. Brooke and Isabella were in the next room... I could n't even say goodbye. But the real Brooke is out here somewhere. I just know it. She's trapped in the NetScape just like I was, I just need to find her. The world is harsher then I expected. It is n't perfect and immaculate like my world. Where as my world offered eternal life, the only release from this world was eternal death. Was it worth it? I step out into the world and taste the warm Summer air, hot and humid, drawing beads of sweat from my brow. `` Yes,'' I say. `` It was worth it.''
[ WP ] Certain events have led you to go back into a line of work you swore you would n't go back to .	Once I'd left the company, I'd sworn that was the end. Never again would I use their uniform, never again would I purchase their services. I was free from that hell, from that half-life of marching on, step by step doing as I was told and hoping things would work out in the end. The pay was n't worth the pain, or the frustration, or humiliations. The pay was n't worth going home every night, miserable and tired. Eventually, I moved on. I fought free from their clutches and made a better life for myself. I worked twice as hard, but I felt so much more rewarded for my work. I had real opportunity, a real chance to make something of my life. Sixty years, I held to that oath. Sixty years, no matter how hard things got, no matter how broke I was, I never went back. Their door was always open, but I found a better way to survive. Sixty years of sheer will, grit, and determination... and now here I am, one more, standing in front of their doors. I lost everything in the Second Great Depression. Corporate enterprises lobbied their asses off until the government collapsed. With nothing further to hinder their growth, they consumed everything. I lost my job, my livelyhood, the company I built... and now here I am again. Time to start my shift. God I wish I could just retire...'' Good morning, welcome to Walmart!''
[ WP ] Have your main character say what would out of context be outrageous , horrifying and disgusting . But , by the end of the story , we will sympathize or even agree completely with the statement .	`` We have to kill that woman. Bury her in the yard.'' Lionel said this pacing the kitchen, arms folded behind his back. Jethro puffed his pipe at the kitchen table, Mabel sitting with her arms crossed adjacent to him. The screams echoed through the small cabin. Lisa was in the living room. Not twenty feet away from them. `` It just ai n't right,'' Jethro said, taking a long puff off his pipe. `` S'not what the Lord wants. We ca n't kill nobody, less'n they killin' us first.'' `` It just ai n't right, letting her suffer like that. Dammit, Jeth, she got bit by a damn mongrel. She's gone rabid.'' Lionel darted across the kitchen grabbing up his hunting rifle in his arms. Jethro stood up, the fat old man knocking his chair over, throwing his pipe square at Lionel's face. `` You out that damn rifle down, ya damn fool! You ca n't kill that poor woman! God said we got ta let it go it's course.'' `` I'm gon na do what I need to. Lisa's my kin. She's suffering. Lordy, Jeth, I hope you'd do the same for me.'' Jethro let a hefty sigh fly from his lips. Despite his words, he understood Lionel's stance. He knew she was suffering from rabies. A wild coyote bit poor old Lisa two weeks ago down in a holler while her and Mabel were picking berries to bring back for a homemade pie. Mabel was white as a sheet when Jethro looked at her. `` Sweet child, I leave it to you. Lionel thinks we need to plug poor old Lisa. I says, as the Lord says, we need to let her time come a'natural. Now I pray to you, make the right choice.'' Mabel began sobbing. Lisa screamed. Jethro stood. Lionel stood, motionless. Rifle in hand. Mabel thought of how her, Lionel, and Lisa used to roam the hills. Playing games. Picking berries. Singing songs with Lisa's family, all of them dead now. She was Lionel's fiancé, and Lisa's best friend. Lisa was all that was left of her family. After what felt like an eternity, Mabel lifted her head out of her hands. Tears basting her cheeks like a glistening pond. `` We have to kill that woman.''
[ WP ] You are God , and the time for the rapture has come .	I'm surprised at how many fell through the cracks; men were never meant to walk at my side, to see as I do, to be filled with my glory. They are not worthy to breathe in the realm of my creation, they are not fit to consume my beasts, drink of the waters or step on all that creeps about the lands between Heaven and Earth. My chosen people have fallen short like all the rest and here at my gates lay a million babes a hundred women and a hundred men. They breathe in this holy place and my angels quake, their fires burn brighter and I contain them only for the moment. Their presence is an insult, but they have come far. They have weathered my trials and proved themselves noble amongst the damned and for this they are gifted a reprieve. They will have run of my kingdom, they will have drink in my wisdom and consume to their hearts content. For a day all shall be permitted and once the day is done I will move upon the earth to cleanse it of all unworthy races and those chosen few will bear witness to the greatness that is I and there upon the barren land that is and will forever be they shall die. Between the four rivers that I once named sanctuary and garden for these men and these women I shall mark out a grave and from thenceforth all will know the folly of mankind and his sins against God almighty.
[ FF ] End a story under 200 words with `` Two is one and one is none . ''	We were there that day. We were there the day that the fog came. Funny, it seems so long ago, even though it was only last year. At first people didn ’ t take note of it. It was n't unusual to see fog that time of year. It was only when people started to feel a burning sensation that anybody noticed. Then it was chaos, people trying to get out of the fog, but she just tried to find him. Our son was at daycare on a field trip out of town, so he was safe. But she had forgotten that. She was so frantic trying to find him, she did n't see the car coming. After she was hit, I picked her up, trying to get us both out of there. That was when it started to burn our skin. She died in my arms that day, and my arms are now forever scarred with the pattern of her hair. Now, with this gun to my head, two is one, and one is none.
[ WP ] You are an assassin . Probably the best in the world . You accept a job and after an attempted hit you discover your target is immortal . You have never failed , and you do n't plan to now .	The rubble continued to smolder as I watched through the scope of my.50 cal Barrett. It was n't every day that things progressed exactly as planned, but this subject had followed his daily routines more closely than any mark I had ever seen. The souls that have the misfortune to be born in this city rarely hope for old age. Terrorist attacks are an every day hazard. Not for the first time I wonder why anyone stays. As an assassin, however, explosives had been an easy call here. No one would ask many questions about a few more casualties in a never-ceasing war. Less questions mean less fingers get pointed at my client, or at me. Discretion is the key to more assignments. It's one of the reasons I'm the best. There is slim hope that anyone survived this blast. And if my target has survived, it should be easy enough to finish the job in the Emergency Room. Before I can send the pre-written text confirming this job to be complete, I glimpse movement in the rubble. The pile, what was once a three story building, bulged. Moments later the rubble erupts and the target stands on top, regains his bearings, and calmly walks away without a scratch. What the fuck just happened? Cancelling the text and packing my gear I hop from rooftop to rooftop, keeping my target in sight. I have more research to do. Edit: Pizzazz.
[ WP ] `` Mum , why is the snow black ? ''	“ Mum, why is the snow black? ” my little girl asks. No fear, no panic, just innocent confusion. She ’ s always been a deep sleeper, but even she woke at the enormous boom from the mountain an hour ago. I told her it was a giant monkey farting, and she giggled as I picked her up and ran out of the house without looking back. I knew this day would come, I should have planned more, had a route in place. I didn ’ t even look where we were going, I ran blindly. Stupidly, into the outskirts I was unfamiliar with. Now on three sides of us the walls are too steep to climb, and back the way we came…that ’ s not an option. It would be beautiful to watch, flowing reds and yellows…but the heat…I can feel it from here as it edges closer. I turn her so I ’ m hiding it from her view. I can feel the heat on my back, warm…then hot…then the first beginnings of pain start…I glance behind, still 10 metres to go…then nine… “ It ’ s not snow honey ” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “ It ’ s ash, like when we burn things on the fire. Remember when we threw that old chair on last week? ” She nods, smiling. “ Yeah! ” she exclaims. “ It went ‘ whoosh ’, really quick! Will the table and things burn quick like that too? ” The pain on my back is becoming searing, it can ’ t be far now. I pull her close into me, and hug her tight. “ Yes honey ” I say, the tremble unavoidable now. “ It ’ ll be quick ”
[ WP ] Incorporare a historical event into the story , so it 'll only be apparent to the reader at the last line/paragraph .	`` Next!'' I shout at the door, asking for the next person to come in the door. A young teenager walks in. The boy have a shiny hair and neat outfit. He walks in with a large canvas. I lift an eyebrow, but keep quiet as he set up his painting and stood in front of me. `` So'', I look at him from head to toe, `` I heard you are really good with brushes.'' The boy puff his chest proud. `` Yes, sire! I have studied painting by myself and I can assure you, my painting is unlike any of the others.'' I wave at his canvas. `` Just let me see your painting so I can analyze it.'' He grin from ear to ear. `` prepare to be amazed, sire! ``, he said as he uncover it. Behind the white cloth, is probably the one thousand^th building painting I have seen today. `` Dummkaff! ``, I shout, unable to hold back my anger anymore. `` We told everyone already! WE NEED A POTRAIT PAINTER. Why do all of you only know how to paint buildings?!'' The boy jumps back. His hand trembles in fear. In a fit or rage, I grab the nearest object, an ink bottle, and fling it across the room. It shatter somewhere. I point to the door and shout, `` Get. Out. Now!'' The boy run, holding his painting as if he is holding for dear life. I close my eyes. If I have to deal with another building painter, I will quit being the interviewer for this god-damned art school. Holding my pen, i cross another name from the paper stack. ~~Adolf Hitler, Austria~~ note: sorry if i have a typo or grammatical error
[ WP ] Give this sentence a happy ending - A man took of his wedding band and placed it on the bar top , looked at it for a while , then left .	He had done it, finally, why was he so upset, why did this feel like the wrong thing to do? He was sitting in a dingy bar 3 blocks from his apartment, 2 blocks from his motel. The realization that he had n't grabbed any other clothes as he had left washed over him, he sighed, hopefully he would n't smell as bad as this place tomorrow. Tomorrow, work, his boss, her father. Perhaps he should give in, finish his drink and go back to her, beg at her feet for forgiveness. After all he was fifty five, the average death age for men is around eighty, its only another twenty five years, maybe less if he turned this bar trip into a habit. Twenty five years of her controlling him, manipulating his feelings, making him wrong, twisting his words. He'd had eighteen of the fuckers already. Fuck. Eighteen was it that long? Must have been, his sister was 40 when she died a year later. Eighteen, felt like eighty. He took a sip, the alcohol was n't helping. He was old, he would lose half of everything in the divorce, her dad was his boss, how was he going to pay for anything? What if she got the house, where would he live? The shitty run down motel, where he was currently staying, was already more expensive than he would have liked. Perhaps he should go back. He stood, as if to leave, but his eyes never left the tortured wood of the bar. He raised his left hand, took off his wedding band and placed it on the bar top. He looked at it for a while, before he turned and he left.
[ WP ] You just died and are now a ghost . How did you die and what happens next ?	I `` woke up'' a few hours ago upset and I'm still pretty pissed. Apparently a character I created took control of my psyche and caused me to kill myself. My lifeless body still lies before me on my bed near my laptop. I looked and saw that my `` final'' prompt was successfully saved and I was livid with how trivially I died. I've cooled off a bit after some time reflecting my current predicament. First, apparently there is life after death. I perceive most things as I would in my old body. I'm still corporeal so some type of cloning or duplication process must have occurred for me to be in two places at once. Unfortunately I was n't conscious or `` alive'' if that's the better word during this process so I have no clue how it happened. Contrary to everything I learned about ghosts, I ca n't pass through objects, already tried it, and I can touch and move objects as I could before. My reflection appears the same though I get a `` distant'' feeling when I look at myself for too long. The one thing that I've noticed though, is that I do not cast a shadow. I tried a few different ways with different lights but they all shine unimpeded. I'm unsure of what this could mean. Thankfully, the entity that I created and put me in this predicament does not seem to exist in this new form. My most pressing concern has been what to do with my former body. It felt oddly familiar yet foreign feeling my own skin. I detected no heat from the body and for the first time realized that I too lacked the familiar warm feeling of life. I lack the subtlety to detect temperature other than a general sense of hot or cold. Interestingly, I do n't miss it. I even caught myself entertaining the thought of testing the applications of my new numbness in more extreme environments. Presently, I'm tasked with what to do with my original body. The more I look at it I grow more upset about with about what to do about the remains, almost more than dying in the first place. A small part of me, assuming it's what's left of my humanity, is concerned that it's not desecrated or destroyed and gets some semblance of a burial. I mainly just want to get it over with as quickly and discreetly as possible and I may have to go that route. I live on the third floor of a walk-up apartment complex so it would be rather difficult to bring a limp, intact, full grown human male without rousing suspicion. I've managed to fill a tub with ice and lifted the body into it. I do n't have anything that can really cut the body up so I'm at a loss for the moment. Hopefully I work something out soon. My girlfriend will be back in a few hours.
[ WP ] Humanity has designed an implant that stops aging and death . Earth has reached a `` max '' occupancy . Only those couples who choose not to have an implant are allowed two children , the rest are made infertile until the implant is removed . There has not been a birth in 100 years .	It was my 346th birthday when I announced the reinstatement of my mortality. Everyone asks the same thing `` Why would you choose to die?'' My answer `` I'm bored'' I've mastered every instrument. Proficient at every sport. Studied every subject medicine, law, economics, programming. I no longer find fulfillment from any of it. But over these past 9 months I have rediscovered something you can not learn in any book. Something that has been long forgotten years ago. The ability to feel. The era of immortality ended an era of emotion. With no fear of death, passion died. No clock was set on life. When life is forever, it loses reason. But today, I am overwhelmed with emotion. I feel a love so strong, I would sacrifice myself over and over. Scarlett. My daughter, is the first new life to enter this world in over 100 years. Now I know life's true purpose. It is in her eyes. Her little hand in mine. For the first time in 300 years, I feel that my life finally has meaning.
[ WP ] A gigantic toaster is dropped into the Pacific Ocean . Chaos ensues .	The beach was calm, my family all in the water playing, begging me to come down and have some fun. I was caught up flirting with some girl, I ca n't remember who it was but it does n't matter, nothing has been the same. 1.5 million people dead, all ocean sea life dead, it's range was incredibly long. All I could hear was the screaming. Electrocution is a cruel way to go. 15 years old and the only one of my family alive. I can only hear my little sisters cries over and over again. My grandfather has taken me in to live with him and my step grandmother, they're great people but I ca n't live with this burden, I should have died with my family. My therapist says that my family would have wanted me to live, to carry on, I do n't care. As I step off the stool, I know in my heart that I need to see them again. I'm coming mom and dad.
[ WP ] A boy or girl that knows everything that is going to happen to them all their life , and that they are going to die in a car accident when they are 25 . It is unstoppable , but they want to try anyways . Fate has the upper hand .	I knew how I was going to die ever since I can remember. I don ’ t know why I know, but I ’ ve never liked the idea of just accepting death, so I ’ ve tried to find ways to avoid it. After all, who would want to die when they were only 25? I run over the plan in my mind as I wait for my girlfriend to drop by. She is picking me up to go to dinner, but she doesn ’ t realize that I know it ’ s a belated surprise birthday party. I only know because she lets it slip in the car a minute before the collision that kills me. Every time I ’ ve come up with a plan to avoid my death, the scenario alters to not only kill me, but a whole bunch of other people. I ’ d nearly given up, but a new plan slipped into my mind the other day and for once, the future appeared blurry. I picked up my cellphone and called my girlfriend, telling her that something came up that I had to deal with, so I ’ d meet her at the restaurant. She was never very good at keeping secrets, so she told me where the party was, and I hopped in my car. I made sure to tell her one last time that I loved her; if I hadn ’ t, then perhaps I would have chosen the scenario where she died instead of me, but I couldn ’ t bare to see that happen. At last my current plan kept everyone safe and gave me a chance at living. As I drove to the party, I kept an eye on the clock. There was about a minute before the accident would happen. I could see the two fuzzy death scenes in my mind. They consumed my thoughts to the point that I wasn ’ t afraid of death, but curious as to which scenario would happen. In the first vision, I could see a large piece of debris narrowly miss me, and I sigh a breath of relief as fate has failed to claim me. In the second… Before I could think any further, I felt the impact and everything went black. It seemed like a few minutes passed in the darkness and my thoughts were not clear or organized. Eventually, though, they organized themselves and I found myself upset with the world, mad that I couldn ’ t fight fate. This endless blackness that consumed me agitated me so much that I wanted to swing my fists or hit something, but I was only a thought now. And then my thoughts faded. My eyes opened to find a sterile, white hospital room surrounding me. My body felt bruised and beaten, but as I looked around, I was surprised that I was alive. When the doctors told me about the accident, they also told me I ’ d died for a few minutes, but they were able to resuscitate me. For the first time in my life, I know longer feared my death, which freed me to really live. I guess I couldn ’ t fight fate, but fate is not always what it seems either. -166
[ CW ] Redneck neighbor telling a story , fill in the blanks	`` So there I am, just screwin' the pooch and I look over at the Millers house. You know their son tbone?'' `` Yep.'' `` So I'm wringin' the hose and all of a sudden there's a hoopin' and a hawlern' of noise.'' `` No.'' `` Sure as shit there was. I ai n't lying. So he fucks and bucks the shit, and while he's doing that here comes Mrs. Miller, home for lunch.'' `` Damn.'' `` Yep. So I mean I'm watching this all very closely at this point, I am watching like a hawk. And she parks the car and heads for the front door. And sure as shit, he plugs and chugs.'' `` Shit.'' `` No bullshit. So I'm still standing here, just mindin' the weeds and I mean, I have overdone it and it looks like shit. Betty is hollerin at me to cut it out.'' `` Bet she was.'' `` So Mrs. Miller goes inside and slips, goes around the front and falls. He did, I swear it on my momma's grave, right in the middle of the front damn yard.'' `` Hooo howdy!'' `` Yep. And I mean I'm just standing here, screwin' the pooch. Mindin my own business.''
[ WP ] `` Do not panic , '' read the recall notice , `` but due to a factory error , we suspect you may have recently purchased a box of unsafety pins . We ask that you maintain a distance of at least 50 meters from the product . A trained and properly armored customer service rep will arrive shortly . ''	The package on the doorstep growled. I slammed the door shut and ran as far away from it as I could, cowering in the kitchen behind the refrigerator. My dad once got a box of these in the mail, sent by a jealous ex. He was never able to walk again, and he only regained sight in one eye. My heart refuses to stay in my chest, insisting on living in my throat instead. The growling only gets louder; they must have sensed me. Maybe they smell fear. I do n't know if a kitchen knife will do anything against these things, but it makes me feel better to hold it. I jump and almost stab myself with the knife when there's a knock on the rear window; it's the customer service rep, clad in what looks like a mirrored bomb suit. He holds up a sign: `` THEY'RE LOOSE. STAY INSIDE. WE WILL PAY FOR THE FIRE DAMAGE.'' Fire damage? HOLY SHIT THAT'S A FLAMETHROWER HOLY SHIT All I can see are flashes of light glinting through the air, screaming and growling as they swarm the customer service rep. Fire splashes against my windows, the unsafety pins gouging the glass before melting in the heat, their thin bodies unable to take the flame. And I thought I'd never use that materials science class. There's someone screaming, cheering -- oh, it's me. And then the cheering stops: the pins have clogged the flamethrower. He looks at me, sorrow in his eyes before they're torn apart by the pins, the rest of him turning into a mush as the pins shred him inside his suit. I call the factory again, the pins drumming on the glass -- it's like they're waiting for me. They say another rep is on the way. I really hope my windows hold ou crack
[ WP ] Cross Casting Madness	( Michael, Off-screen ) George Michael, it's time you learned the story of how I met your stepmother. It all started back in 2012. ( Michael, narrating ) Your uncle Tobias and aunt Lindsay had been living with us in Manhattan. Your uncle Gob was joining us for drinks at the bar downstairs. ( Gob ) This is going to be legend-waitforit-dary. ( Lindsay ) What is? ( Michael ) His new magic trick. ( Gob ) Illusion, Michael. A trick is something a whore does for money... ( girl passes ) speaking of, excuse me for a moment. ( Tobias ) I'd really like to get him on my analrapist table and probe around. ( Michael ) Wording. ( Tobias ) I meant with my staff. My practice. ( Lindsay ) All because you got your license back does n't mean you can actually start practicing again. ( Michael ) I'm pretty sure that's exactly what it means. ( Lindsay ) I thought that was to drive the ambulance. ( Gob ) What has two thumbs and just got that hottie's digits? This guy! ( Michael, incredulous ) She actually gave you her phone number? ( Lindsay ) No, she slapped him in the face. ( Gob ) Tomato, tomato. ( Michael ) It's `` tomayto, tomahto.'' ( Gob ) That does n't sound right. Who's ever heard of a tomahto? `` Barkeep, I'll have a round of tomahtoes and glass of wayter to wash them down.'' You sound like an idiot sometimes, Michael. No wonder you're single. ( Michael ) I'm single because my wife, the mother of my son died. ( Lindsay ) Probably choked on a `` tomahto.'' ( Gob ) Nice! Up top! ( Tobias ) Michael, if I may, your brother is simply suggesting that you need to consider reevaluating companionship. Thrust your rod back into the salty sea for another nibble. ( Gob ) I was more thinking he should just have a series of one night stands, but your idea could work, too. ( Michael ) I've tried that before and it's just... it is n't the right time. ( Gob ) Sounds like somebody's chicken. ( chicken dance! ) Caw-cacaw. Ca-ca-cacaw. ( Lindsay, joining ) Chaw chee chaw chee chaw. ( Tobias,??? ) Googaloogagoo! ( All stare at him ) ( Michael, narrating ) I do n't know either. ( Tobias ) What? ( Gob ) How about instead of talking about chickens and... whatever that was, we order something to eat. ( Tobias ) I'm famished. It sure will be nice to stick something else in my mouth after that little misunderstanding in the mens room. ( Michael ) I'm done here. I'll grab something upstairs. ( Gob ) One chance at the bar, that's all I'm asking. Just one girl, one attempt and I'll stop bugging you. ( Michael ) Just one? ( Gob ) One. What's the worst that could happen? ( Lindsay ) I dunno, she yells'rape,' stabs you in the forehead with a cocktail stirrer, pour vodka over you and set it on fire. ( Michael ) Let's hope it does n't come to that.... Okay, let's give this a try. ( Michael, narrating ) So we went to the bar to see about a girl. ( Gob ) So which one? The blonde? Brunette? That exotic young thing at the end there? ( Michael ) That's your reflection in the window. ( Gob ) How should I know your type? Just pick one. ( Michael, narrating ) And that's when I saw her. ( Michael ) Lucille. ( Lucille Austero ) Michael! Is n't this grand?! ( Michael, narrator ) And that, George Michael, is how I met your stepmom. ( George Michael, narrating ) No it is n't. ( Michael, narrating ) You're right. I had you there for a second. But Lucille Austero really was there. And if she had n't been there, I would n't have met your stepmom... ( Michael, narrating ) Next week on How I Met Your Stepmother... Gob discovers that illusions involving his target's wedding ring is a bad way to get a date, and Michael urinates his pants and then discovers that Ron Howard does n't like when his job is taken.
[ WP ] Describe intense pain without using any descriptions torture or violet vocabulary . Make me feel it .	I'll bite since I have no customers now. `` As I lay on the freezing tile, I feel the pressure of a tense like nature. Striking as fast as lightening, but slow enough to register, my brain screams for mercy, but my body is still numb. Blood ravaging my veins, fighting for more room to get to my heart in the mission to prepare for the unknown. Do I fight, or do I flight? Brain screams at my body to move, but something is in the way. What on God's green Earth is this? Coldness engulfs my body as it fights... until my body gathers what it has from the adrenaline... then BAM! The intensed pulse of heat mingles with my twisted stomach causing my breath to escape me. My blood rushes. My eyes dart to the side to see the half face wonder. Eyes so blue. Just eyes... lights... and the pulsation of my heart. The unknown is coming... I just hopes it's soon.'' Dammit... I need more time! edit: got my wisdom teeth pulled! This is where this came from! Again, I tried, lol
[ WP ] A superhero without the required secondary powers required to use his main powers without hurting himself ( eg : the flash if he was affected by air friction )	The cold rasp of machinery filled the freezing air. A series of clicks and whirs and whines. A thud soon joined them, my feet slamming into the ground moments before I rolled forward. As I did so, my wife vaulted over me, rolling through a teleporter just before it would have slammed shut. I blinked, my forward motion grinding to a halt. The teleporter stopped fading, instead shimmering at half capacity. There was a strange allure to floating, and I found myself resenting the fact that I would need to fall soon. I scanned the teleporter, following wires and cabling and visible connections, trying to discover the location of it's twin. I tried to move my eyeballs slightly, but I was unable to move, just like all other things. The world was suddenly, violently, thrown into darkness. I longed to turn my head to discover the origin of this disturbance, but I found myself instead staring unmovingly into my wife's eyes, as she moved out of the way of the only light source in the room. I focused, time slowly restarting, throwing me forward into her. The smooth metal of the sealed teleporter was a painful collision, but I'm glad I was the one who bore the brunt of it. My wife laughed, slowly picking herself up. Whilst I had the ability to freeze time, only she was able to resist it - not even I could use it to any further advantage than anyone else. The deep, crimson patterns on her shirt would have indicated an injury, were it another, lesser person, but given how long she had been left alone, I knew better. The room once more fell silent, save for the quiet breathing of two people content with just each other and another caught crook. As such, neither of us noticed the quiet impacts of a boot on a metal staircase. He rushed up behind her, pouring blood from numerous injuries. I focused, freezing time, but he had latched onto her - her powers were extended to him. I tried to join in, but my power was exhausted, and it would be at least another minute before I could do anything. I was forced to watch, unable to turn away, as they wrestled and danced further from me. I'll never forget the maniac smile on his face, as he dug into his pocket, sure to keep one dirty, worthless hand on my wife, and pulled out a small remote. And the smile only widened as he pushed the button, the room bathed in a pulsing, orange glow as a beeping sound echoed from within his jacket. My heart stopped as the orange began to pulse rapidly before it flared, and the glow was accompanied by sound and heat and pain. I tried to yell but was physically unable to. All I could do was watch as all the sensations stopped, leaving me staring where she had been not a minute ago. I felt power surge through my limbs, and I knew I could restart time once more. And yet, I was n't sure I wanted to. -- -- - Like that? Come on down to [ The Good Flick ] ( https: //thegoodflick.wordpress.com/ ), there's something for everyone!
[ WP ] `` When they came for me I was twelve . Now I 'm sixteen and I know too much . ''	When they came for me I was twelve. I told them I was not afraid. I thought I could be special, I wanted to matter. The first week I woke up from under the needle, all I could feel was the pain at the tip of my skull. Someone entered the room at one point. The second week was less painful. I remember someone entering the room and reading off names, incoherent information, it made no sense, but stuck in my head. The third week hurt, although at the same time, something new opened. A man entered the room wearing black sunglasses, and read me names, information, words. The fourth week was nearly painless. A European man in a black suit and tie with black sunglasses walked in a talked in a soothing voice, filling my brain. The fifth week was eye opening. I could not wait for my friend to return to tell me something new. The sixth week I was confused, no more could be added. I asked him to stop. He would not. I tried not to listen, but I could not stop. I asked him to stop again. He would not. I attacked the man, but I was tied down. I listened to a voice talk. My brain kept learning. When they came for me I was twelve. Now I'm sixteen and I know too much.
[ WP ] Your deceased father did a kind act for the most dangerous man in the world , and the deed was remembered . On your eighteenth birthday that man comes back to repay the debt .	`` Wake up birthday boy... or should I say, birthday man!'' They say your 18th birthday is special. Birthdays are meaningless to me at this point. My dad died on my 15th birthday, and I ca n't help but feel it was my fault. We were planning to celebrate by going bowling. At the last second, I wanted to go to Chuck-E-Cheese's, so we went there instead. On the way there, a truck ran a red light and slammed into our car. Next thing I know, my dad's pronounced dead and my sister is screaming `` I ca n't feel my legs!'' to the EMTs. If we just went bowling, I could've prevented all of this. I guess I'll just put on a happy face and deal with today, like I always do. `` There he is! I made you your favorite, waffles with extra thick maple syrup!'' My mom never seems this peppy. I wonder if she's just doing this for me. `` Mom, you do n't have to act like your happy for me. Hiding your emotions will just hurt more.'' She looks at me, and her grin slowly fades. `` It was my fault they died. We should've just gone bowl-'' she interrupted me by putting her hand on my arm. `` Do n't do that to yourself. You know as well as I do that the truck was the only one to blame.'' I ca n't help but feel as if she knows it was my fault. I do n't know how much I can take of this. I'm starting to feel like it'd be better to just give up. What's the point anymore? Not today, though. I do n't want to be the 3rd death in the family, all on the same day. `` A few of your friends are coming tonight. You should have fun. Brian said he'll bring his Xbox.'' Shit. I forgot about the party. How am I going to do this? I do n't have any weed left, so there's that option gone. Fuck depression, I ca n't handle this. Toby is the only one who really knows, and that's because I had a complete breakdown right in front of him. I'll call him. He knows what it's like not to have a dad. His dad's been gone since he was 7, left him in the middle of the night. They think he's dead, since they have n't seen him in years. `` Hey Jake. Whatchya need?'' He seems overly happy. `` I forgot my mom invited all you guys over for a party tonight. I feel like shit. I need advice.'' He paused and thought for a bit. `` If you want, I can come over a little early. Cheer you up a bit?'' If one person can make me snap out of this shit, it's him. `` Sure. Come over around 3, ok?'' 4 hours should be good, right? `` Jake, it's your birthday. Today is your day. Focus on that, not on your dad and sister. They would want you to be happy, you know that. You moping around all day is just the opposite.'' He's right, but I do n't think he really gets how I'm feeling. `` I know, it's just-'' `` No, it's not'just' anything. C'mon, let's play some Overwatch.'' Gaming, the best way to drown out reality. I should n't feel like I do, but I just ca n't help it. My dealer's out of town for the week, so I ca n't get more weed, the pharmacy is closed right now, so I ca n't get a refill on my antidepressants, and my brain is refusing to give me a little room to actually be happy. And people question why I hate my life. People will start showing up in 2 hours, I've got ta get ready for this. I do n't know if I can, though. Holy shit this is sad. I do n't think anyone's said a word in the last 5 minutes, we're all sitting here on our phones. `` Do you guys want to do anything?'' What a stupid fucking question, why did I ask that? `` Not really. You?'' I've got a gun in the back room and I'm ready to use it. This is a new low for me. I just heard the doorbell. All of the guests are here, did my mom invite someone else? More people is just what I do n't need. `` I've got ta go somewhere. Sorry guys.'' They look confused as to where I would be going in my own house at my own party. I do n't blame them, either. I'm going to the attic, I can think better up there. Toby comes with me. `` What are you doing? These are your friends. Not random people. You never act like this, and you need to stop.'' I look at him with searing anger, `` You did n't have to sit next to a burning car while paramedics try to save your sister and haul off your dad's body. Shut the fuck up and let me alone Toby.'' I should n't have done that, but I slam the door and go up the stairs anyway. It's quiet up here, I like it. I can think clearly, try to get this shit sorted out. Who is ringing the doorbell? This is the 2nd time I've heard it tonight. Mom really needs to get it, since I did n't hear them come in. `` OH MY GOD WHY ARE YOU HERE?!'' Fuck, mom never screams like that. I bolt downstairs, thankfully not tripping. I get down to see my mom sitting down, crying while a man stands in the kitchen. `` Mom, are you ok? Who is that? Did they hurt you?'' The man turns around, and starts coming my way. `` Take 1 more step and you lose your fucking head. I do n't know who you are, but you need to leave. Right now.'' Toby and a few others come running down. `` Oh my god, Jake, fucking run!'' I puff out my chest, this guy's a bit taller than me, but I feel like I can take him. `` Jake, do you not know who that is?!'' Toby seems worried, but who cares. I'll beat this motherfucker into the ground if I have to. `` Jake, that's Paul Morrison! Get the fuck away from him!'' I went cold at that name. Paul Morrison is considered the deadliest man on the planet. Runs a gang of terrorists, cartels, and other criminals. What does he want from me? He reaches out, and puts a hand on my shoulder. I'm certain I'm going to die. Holy fuck, not like this. Not 3 on the same day. `` Jake, I'm not here to hurt you. You do n't have to worry.'' I do n't believe him. He's cold, likely he's lying to me. `` Your father was a very good man Jake. He was very selfless. He saved my life two different times. He was a very good friend of mine. When I heard of his death, I was crushed. I had n't repaid my life debt to him. Now that you're 18, I believe you're the person who should receive this.'' My dad knew him? I thought my dad hated criminals. This ca n't be right. I'll go along with this, though. `` Jake, as my rewards for capture are well over $ 50,000,000 and your father saved my life twice, the truck out front has $ 100,000,000 in unmarked bills. You wo n't have to worry about spending any of it. I had a few people look into you, and we saw you're quite depressed. I got one of my guys to hand over a few pounds of the best marijuana you will ever smoke.'' My mom looked stunned when she found out I smoked, but that was the least of my worries. `` And for you, Ms. Eisenhower, as a thank you for raising Jake to be such a good kid, another $ 10,000,000 in unmarked bills. If it were n't for your husband, I would n't be standing here giving you these gifts.'' He started to turn away, but then turned back around and looked at Toby on the stairs. `` I was n't going to do this, but I assume this might be a fitting time. Toby, come here please.'' He slowly walked towards Paul, fear in his eyes. `` Toby, I have n't seen you since you were 7 years old. I wish I did n't have to leave, but I wanted to keep you safe. I'm sorry that I did that, son.'' My mouth dropped as he reached out and gave Toby a hug. What the fuck is happening? I have to be dreaming. Then, he was gone. The truck outside was full of $ 100 bills, sure enough. That night, Toby, my mom, and I all unpacked the money. I gave Toby as much as he could fit into his car. I assumed this was going to be one of the worst birthdays ever. In fact, I actually saw my mom smile today, which made me happy for the first time in years. Maybe it is going to get better after all.
[ WP ] Fuck it !	There once was a man named Yolo Swag. He spawned from the hellish depths of 9gag. Although some would say that his brain did lag, his cranium was stuffed like a meme-filled bag. `` Fag!'' Was his greeting. `` Slag!'' Was his wife. Just kidding, Yolo Swag made swagging his life. He swagged to and fro. He swagged up and down. He swagged in the snow. He swagged about town. With hat brim sideways, and nerd glasses too, Yolo Swag was swaggier than you. So swaggy, it's true, he wore baggy pants. The baggier, the swaggier, with tight underpants. He went to rehearsals. Last week he did five. When they were preparing, he said, `` Fuck it, we'll do it live!'' It did n't matter the type, he'd swag where he went: Piano, wedding, a graduation event. If you had a practice, Yolo would know. Oh, woe if Yolo would go to your show! But this week Yolo did make his last swag. He died after swagging over an anti-swag frag. He did n't respawn, nor did he survive. And at the funeral prep, someone yelled, `` Fuck it, we'll do it live!''
[ WP ] J'ooliaen Azzanj , founder of the activist group StellarLeaks , has released a leak to the people of earth that they are in fact the North Korea of the galaxy . His letter reads as follows :	Dear Inhabitants of Earth, What you'll find within these files is a detailed explanation of the tactics that have been used against you by The Powers that Be to subdue you and bring you under their control. Your first reaction will doubtless be denial. Realizing that one has been tricked and used in this way is extremely painful and difficult for the ego to accept. It will fly in the face of your most closely held beliefs about yourself. If you see yourself as an intelligent, rational, self-respecting being, knowledge that you've been lied to, that your emotions have been manipulated, and that your labor has been used for someone else's designs will likely be incredibly painful. You will either refuse to believe what we reveal to you and cling to your previous world-view ( albeit with a flickering seed of doubt that will never quite go away ) or you will accept the truth and come to the conclusion that you must not be as intelligent, rational or self-respecting as you previously believed. Most people who go the second route become extremely depressed. Please consider an alternative. Perhaps you are an intelligent, rational and self-respecting being who has been caught in such a paralyzing and all-powerful web of lies that the most intelligent, rational and self-respecting option was to accept it and do your best within the system until a better option presented itself. The things that have happened to you do not define you. It is your response to those things that defines you. Another common reaction is anger. Anger, in this situation, is completely valid. However, I caution you against acting rashly because of that anger. It is true that The Powers that Be have tricked and used you. It is also true that they still hold all of the power on your fragile little planet. Think of what they will do to hold on to that power. They are capable of acts of mass destruction, and they'll be particularly apt to commit these acts when they feel their power slipping. Our goal is to wrest that power from them in as peaceful a way as possible. Please do not act rashly, as you, and the people you love, will likely be the only victim of your actions. It is unlikely that you will have any effect on The Powers that Be if you act alone. The Powers that Be will of course have access to this information. They will know that you know what they have known all along. We played with some ideas for a way to spread these files to the populace without alerting The Powers that Be. But it is impossible. They have moles everywhere. Besides, our goal is and always will be transparency. So, as you gain this knowledge, The Powers that Be will be aware of it. This is, of course, very dangerous. Our advice to you is as follows: do not deny that you have this information. Simply deny that you believe it. There will be a witch hunt, and doubtless, there will be casualties. But if your response ( if everybody's response ) to people's inquiries is simply, `` Oh, all that stupid conspiracy theory talk? I do n't go in for that,'' then you and yours are more likely to survive. The Powers that Be have grown lax during their reign of thousands of years and they no longer have the man-power nor the infrastructure to make all of you disappear ( nor would they want to- who would work for them then? ). So, your first line of defense is denial- saying you do n't believe this. If you are apprehended anyways, your second line of defense is feigned insanity. More on that in our second letter that will be released with our second round of leaks. It has been our experience that in these situations, the general population's reactions can be broken down as follows: about 1/3 of the people will simply bump along and do what they must to survive, regardless of who is in power or whether they're free. These people will, however, be happier and more comfortable under conditions of liberty than their current condition of servitude. Some from among this 1/3 will become incredibly bewildered and disheartened by their newfound freedom. These are the people who thrive within a structured environment with clear rules and all-powerful leaders. Please do not be disappointed if you turn out to be one of these people. People like you are absolutely the building blocks of a healthy, productive society. Our goal is to transition you into a system that will provide the structure you crave, but will give you more of the benefits of your labor. About 1/3 of the people will emerge as thinkers, philosophers and creators in a more free society. These are often the people who have been plagued with a crippling sense of disillusionment under the old regime. You will know you are one of these people if your life has been marked with a sense of existential despair, if you never felt like you quite fit in, if you found yourself underwhelmed by the `` prizes'' that the previous regime tried so hard to teach you to want. You misfits will thrive under conditions of freedom. Welcome. We ca n't wait to see what you create now that you will no longer be suppressed. About 1/3 of you are naturally power-hungry and your journey of knowledge about The Powers that Be will be marked by frustration that you were n't one of them. You will struggle under conditions of freedom because you are predisposed to a desire for power over others, and we do not allow that in our communities. We are working on a program for people of this sort in which they can guide the lost souls described above ( the ones who thrive under structured systems ) without using them wholly for their own benefit. These programs are still in beta testing and we've had limited success. Our hope is that, by liberating your planet, we might uncover a great thinker who can help with this project. Since learning of your planet's plight, the Inter-galactic Liberty Initiative Commission has spent a great deal of time, energy and resources to make a plan for earth's liberation. We have liberated hundreds of planets over our 2,000 year history with an overwhelming degree of success. We are mindful of you and your troubles, little earthlings. The first step to your liberation is awareness. It is our hope that, with your cooperation, your children will experience liberty that you can not even imagine. Until our next transmission, Sincerely, J'ooliaen Azzanj, Representative of The Intergalactic Space Liberty Initiative Commission We come in peace.
[ WP ] Seconds after you see on TV that your numbers were called in a $ 240 million Powerball lottery , your phone rings . You answer it to hear your voice , frantically telling you to tear it up immediately . You then hear two gunshots and then the dial tone	`` This it is! Good bye to the world!'' I scream out at the top of my lungs. I double and triple checked my lotto ticket and sure enough, every single number matched, powerball included: 01, 05, 11, 12, 22, and finally, 9. I spun around the desk with my chair, imagining how my boyfriend of five years will react. He will never have to work another day again, and best of all, I do not have to. While I did manage to hold a job for a little while, that is nothing but a false hope to thrive. I could not handle it, and collapse from my own anxiety was inevitable. Even with this failure, I am job hunting again, even though I have that gut wrenching feeling that it will end the same way. I am ill prepared for this world, as I a reclus growing up. My parent's opted to'homeschool' me, but in the end taught me nothing. I was little aware of how dysfunctional my family truly was, until I left it at age seventeen. Now I realize that the only thing I'm good for is being a bum out on the ghetto streets of this city. I tried living life, I tried being social, and I tried to'deal with it,' but even this simple advice is too hard for me to apply. I would be content to live in a basement for the remainder of my days, as I hated living. I've seen people manage to trudge on every single day, only to endure the day after that. Yet I wanted a way out, I wanted to be free, and finally freedom comes in this miracle of matching numbers. Finally, all the mistakes, all the shrouds of an uncertain future can be washed away. Finally, I can live on without the guilt of being so pathetic. I will vanish from the world entirely; My boyfriend is more than welcome to join me, as he was the only person crazy enough to hang around someone as off key as me. The cellphone I needed for my job hunt never rings, yet here it is, going off like there is no tomorrow. `` Not only did I win the lottery, someone finally wants to hire me too?'' I said this out loud as I pressed the answer button and placed the phone on my ear. I suppose it would be a blessing in disguise, as it would do me good to learn how to coap with this thing called life, without the pressures of failure consuming me. What I heard was not a manager looking for a new employee, it was a woman's voice, my voice. `` Rip the lottery ticket! Do it now!'' The voice tells me, in a strangely familiar screech, before two gunshots rang out. Immediately I hung up, looking down at the ticket in front of me. `` No, NO, NO!'' I scream out, shooting up from my chair. `` Today was supposed to be a good day! A day where I am finally free from my misery! I refuse to accept that voice as mine, it has to be a prank! Have I not been punished enough for my mistakes!?'' I scream out, with tears welling up in my eyes. I know that somewhere out there, SOMEONE is suffering like me, if not more so. But to be denied just one victory, is that really too much for a god in heaven to grant!? I would rather die, I would rather die than to let this chance slip me by! I can not handle living like everyone else, and if the world does not give me that free ticket out, then I will take the ticket to hell itself! The door opens, and my boyfriend enters the room. He appears utterly exhausted, but when I asked him how is day was he looked at me rather strangely. He was then forced into the room by his co-worker shoving him in, with a pistol in hand. `` B-baby?'' I stutter, while he did not say anything, the gunman did. `` I heard from your man, that you got the winning ticket, hand it over.'' He tells me, pressing the pistol against my boyfriend's head. My hands shaking, I quietly handed this man the lottery ticket. His face broke into a broad, smile. He shoots my boyfriend's skull, making a quick shower of flesh and crimson. Finally I understood why I was so desperate, a life without the man I love, is not living at all. I popped open my phone and dialed myself, repeating the same words, in the same screech. Once again, I have made a great mistake, but in a world of multiple universes, at least one version of me will heed the warning. That alone brings peace to my soul, even as the two shots hit me square in the chest, one of which pierces straight though my heart.
[ WP ] You are an evil wizard . You know that the good king will once again be sending a `` hero '' to your dark tower to try to rid the land of you once and for all . You never expected the `` hero '' to be your mother-in-law .	We were just finishing up breakfast when I felt the magical vibrations that told me that someone was approaching our tower. I began to get lost in thought as to whom the King was sending to defeat me this time. Ever since that little mix up with the grave digger and his father's body and suddenly necromancy is outlawed and necromancers are to report to the chapel for cleansing of the dark magics. The fool once a person dies the soul leaves their body and what is left is nothing more than a shell waiting for purpose. At least this proved to be a useful way for gathering fresh bodies that had some worth. My wife said something that brought me back to reality, seeing my focus back on her she repeated `` Please try not to ruin the garden this time.'' I smiled looking at her, the long red hair, bright green eyes; even without magical ability or noble blood she was jewel that every man wanted and the best part was that she was intelligent and supportive in every way. I responded `` No worry, the elven ranger has done a wonderful job; the diversity of heroes the king has sent at us has been a bonus in my collection.'' She smiled her lovely grin and excused herself from the table. I called for dwarf cook to clean the table and he set to work with his blank expression as I went to see to the visitor. I took my time walking down the tower, letting the hopeless heroes wear them selves out on the door some before he dealt with them. As I neared the door though I did not hear the usual pounding of some sort of attack against the door but just a simple impatient knock. I continued somewhat surprised for either I am now dealing with the most polite adventurer ever or someone was messing with me. Either way I wo n't have to replace the door this week. I came to the large wooden door scratched with several different markings of the enchantments I used to reinforce the door. I opened the door suddenly and swiftly, fully prepared for any sword, arrow, magic, or bagpipe attack that would be thrown at me; instead I had a bag thrown at me. I dropped my staff and caught it by instinct somewhat stunned, I looked up to see the one thing I never wished to face again; my mother-in-law. She stood their leathery and wrinkled with that eternal growl on her face. If my wife had n't sworn on a stack of holy scriptures that the woman before me was her mother I would have thought her adopted ( and still admittedly do ). We had eloped to get away from her and left her a continent away, or so we thought for that same beast stood before me today. She stood their staring at me as if expecting the look of shock on my face to change to one of joy as if the heavens themselves have granted me with some great gift. `` You run off with my daughter eight years ago and not even a hello to your mother-in-law'' she said. All I could respond was `` H-how are you here?'' she let out an angry sigh and crossed her arms. `` Well I tracked you through every little nugget of information I could dig up on you. I arrived in the city down in the valley last week and sent a letter to you with a large armored man who said he was headed here for a job.'' Of course I thought to myself, the one body I had to burn to a crisp held the only warning of this unspeakable horror. She had continued explaining `` After waiting a week and no one coming to pick me up I went to the King to see if he was as just as they say and would assist me. He retired for an hour in his study to debate it and came back with a sealed letter for you and said he would deal with all the travel arrangements.'' There was a complete minute of silence as I stood there unable to comprehend what to do about the situation. My mother-in-law fished out the letter and handed it to me saying she was now to see her daughter and about what her new living arrangements would be. Finishing by ordering me to bring the eight crates of her luggage up behind her without tainting them with my magic. As soon as she disappeared up the stairs I dropped the crate in my hands and quickly opened the letter. It read `` Come to the chapel and be purified of your dark magics and I will help you be rid of that woman forever.Checkmate.'' Needless to say me and my wife live happily without her mother and I am currently looking for a new magical specialty; how does conjuration magic sound. I mean using demons and other creatures for servants wo n't be an issue, right? first time responding to one of these prompts, let me know what you think or if I made the evil wizard to likable or was off with formatting.
[ WP ] write a letter to a loved one .	Hello, Sunshine, I know it's been a long time since we last got to exchange words. I also know I'm not far from being the last person you'd want to talk to right now. But I could not keep myself from thinking of you. I'm really sorry that things ended this way. Everyday, I wake up thinking about you. Been trying to take my mind off you. Tried dating other people, tried focusing on my work, spending days without closing an eye, even tried getting help from a psy. None of it worked. I miss your voice, miss your smile, even miss your mannerisms, those that annoyed me at first, your character... Miss your everything. What would n't I give, to spend more time with you, talk about your day, what you think about your colleagues, or pretty much anything... Well, I heard you found someone to share your life, I sincerely hope that he'll be the one to make you happy, and take care of you, since I could n't myself. I guess that's how it ends. Love you. Your panda. PS: Do n't bother trying to answer: I'll be gone by the time you'll get this letter.
[ WP ] -A little girl tells a department store Santa all she wants for Christmas is for him to kill her stepfather .	He'd watched her arrive. Picking her way though the crowd, holding a piggy bank full of money tightly in one hand as she stood in line, waiting to see him. She could n't have been older than eight. Standing there, looking straight at him through the throng of children and parents. She waited for her turn alone. He pulled the girl up onto his lap. She was a thin thing, all bones and limbs sitting there in a second hand dress, the hem tattered and fading around the edges. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close for the photo. She stared straight ahead. Once the flash had gone off she turned to him, big eyes and a serious expression on her face. Normally he'd laugh and ask her what she wanted, but he could see that she was trying to work out what she should say. He waited. 'Santa-' She said, leaning in and looking up at him. 'Yes?' He asked, finding his voice was croaky. She bit her lip and looked down at her hands, picking at the torn skin of her thumb. 'You can grant wishes, right?' She said. 'I'll do my best.' 'Can you kill my step-daddy?' She asked. Looking up at him with tears in her eyes.'Not.. not for ever.' She said. 'Why do you want that?' He asked her, softly. His arm wrapped around her. 'Mum says it's the only way he's coming home for Christmas.' The little girl said, in a rush, her words tumbling out.'And that he ca n't just leave the army because we need the money. So if you could kill him, for a little while, long enough that they'd let him come home, he'd be here for Christmas. It's all I want.' 'People ca n't die for'just a little while'. If they die it's for good.' 'But I want my daddy.'
[ WP ] A gods power is dependent on how wide spread their name is , usually done through worshippers . However , since Isis some of the other gods have been getting a little `` creative '' .	Zeus sat in the director's chair, sighing at John Travolta. The old god lived under a new name, and was jealous of Thor's newfound power in the movie business, as well that of Isis in war, and especially envious of Rasputin's glory in disco... and he was never even a god! `` John, babe, how many times I got ta tell you it's'Zeus Lightning' now, not'Grease Lightning.''' `` I just do n't get why we're rebranding it,'' John said. The actor sipped his coffee and shook his head. `` Grease is more like... cars, hair, what does Zeus have anything to do with that?'' `` It's about power! Do n't you understand? Thousands of years ago, I -- I mean, Zeus... Zeus was the King of the gods! He struck down lightning and smoted those who dared rise against his name...'' `` Umm... you okay there, Mike?'' `` Who? Oh yes, of course I'm okay, now how about another take?'' `` You have a spark in your hair...'' `` Oh, yes, well then, on with the show!'' Zeus brushed his eternally white hair. `` I mean, I get that it's a remake, but ca n't we at least keep the theme of cars? Why goats?'' `` Have n't you ever gazed from afar on the countryside, as a slave girl grips the full udder of a doe, and dreamed that it was you that she was pulling?'' Zeus breathed deep and flexed his thighs. `` No,'' John immediately answered. `` No, I have n't.'' `` Well...'' The old god visibly shook himself from his reverie. `` Maybe you should try it.'' John stared at the director for a minute before saying, `` I think I'm ready to keep shooting now.'' *** Eight months later was the opening night of Zeus Lightning. All of two people showed up. The old god refused to leave his limo, and skipped the premiere, singing Zeus Lightning to himself all the way home. He wondered what it was that made it so easy for all the others. It started raining, and soon he heard thunder while sipping tea in his LA apartment. All of them had some kind of creative capacity, or some trait, or coincidence of names that made it easy for them. The thunder struck again and Zeus remembered the power he felt millennia ago, with lightning in his fists and fire in his eyes. Why try something different? Why was he so desperate to go on living as a failed Hollywood director? `` Screw it...'' he muttered. *** No one knew what hit them. Few were left alive to wonder why. And only a few of those heard, clearer than the roar of the nuclear missiles that destroyed their homes, the voice of the old god thundering through the sky, shouting, `` I AM ZEUS! I AM ZEUS! I AM ZEUS!''
[ WP ] St. Peter opens the pearly gates and lays out the majesty of heaven before you . You respectfully decline .	Peter sighed and shook his head when he saw who had arrived. There were so many that were so young. The boy could n't have been more than seven. He wore khaki shorts that were scuffed with grass stains, and his Iron Man t-shirt was torn at the shoulder down to his opposite waist. The boy looked like he had been crying. Peter knelt down and set his hand on the boy's shoulder. `` Shhhh. Come on now.'' He held his arms open, and the boy only hesitated for a moment before resting in Peter's embrace. Peter pulled the boy close. He could feel the boy's nose against his shoulder. `` I'm so sorry.'' After a few minutes, the boy pulled back, wiping his eyes. Peter stood up, doing the same. He sniffed and looked away, wiping his hands on his knees. `` Well, Isaac, are you ready?'' He gestured to his left and The Gate appeared. No sound came forth, but the light bursting out sang. Peter looked down at the boy. The child had a wary look on his face, and Peter smiled. `` What's wrong?'' The boy looked up at him. `` Is my dad in there?'' Peter's smile faltered, but he kept it up. `` Sorry. He has some time yet, as does your mother.'' He gestured again. `` But they will be here. They would want you to go on.'' Isaac gaze turned back to The Gate. Slowly, he shook his head. Peter's eyebrows raised. `` No?'' Isaac shook his head again, resolute. When he spoke, his voice shook, but it was firm. `` I want to wait for them.'' Isaac looked up with a worried smile. The worry disappeared when Peter smiled back. The saint nodded and turned away. The Gate was gone. `` I suppose you can wait here with me. I'd love the company.''

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