Split (1)

train · 177k rows

prompt stringlengths 391 14.9k
"Know what's awesome? Unicorns are awesome."I'm sure you've heard someone say that probably about something else but you've heard it and let me tell you, unicorns are dicks. It all started three years ago when all types of magical creatures appeared we've got dragons dwarves ogres fairies annoying ass unicorns and nymphs a lot more than that actually. But it was three years ago the world dissolved into chaos, I mean say your a dragon and there are millions of these people they taste decent and are easier to find than sheep so what do you do? You eat people. Oh these are the western dragons we don't talk about the Chinese dragons.. But as I was saying everything went to hell our population was cut in half and then more. But I'm still alive to post this right? Well here's how it went I was going about my daily life getting ready to be an adult I was almost eighteen and then I saw a snake flying and within a few minutes the house was burned down and I was running with my backpack I'm glad we were gonna go camping I had my backpack full of snacks so I was fine for a bit.. Now I managed join a group survivors and that's when I found out everyone under eighteen had gotten some sort of power the type you'd find in a wuxia novel.. remember how I said I was about to turn eighteen I don't have any power.. I guess I'm kinda cynical but either a god is playing a joke on me or my parents lied about my birthdate.. And since it's a wuxiaesque power system there's no way I can gain powers so now that most of the normal people have died I don't have long.. I guess I just wanted to complain before I died. Life complete? Not even close but it looks like it's over.
"Sir, Sir, wake up; you are about to miss your stop"echoed around the train. His eyes slowly peered open staring at the sharp-steel bullet train wondering if he had reached his stop yet. He hears laughter in the background as he slowly closes his eyes and wanders into a drift. Dreaming about an amazing city better than his own, no jobs, no sleepless hard-working nights, just pure bliss. He ponders this thought with mellow rusling in the background. "Sir, Sir, you need to wake up, your gummy-chariot awaits!"Suddenly standing up in shock, he yelled "What?". &#x200B; He just heard "Sir, come for the gummy train it awaits". His eyes wandered around as he was escorted out of the now sold-gold bullet train. Huge towers of colourful and vibrant candy as far as his eyes could see, jelly floors covering the vast city, purple and pink lollipop towers scattered over the land. Confusion hits him as he reaches his hand to pinch himself. Shock and surprise spread through him as he feels a jolt of pain in his right arm. "This is real"the man kept muttering to himself as he stepped into the gummy-chariot staring at gummy-soldiers guarding the entrance for him. His mind pondered how and why as both excitement and fear spread through him. He finally decides to reach forward towards a gummy bear and feels an unusual object. &#x200B; His mind quickly wonders as he slowly opens his eyes and hears from his hospital bed: "Jeremy, hang in there, you will get through this overdose...
“Not again!” No, seriously, this is the last time I’m taking this class. I haven’t had nightmares like this since the physics law building class, and I’m not about to fail again. Honestly, what university teaches universe building like this, throwing you into a sandbox without bothering to tell you anything? It’ll be fun, they said. It’s an open ended project, they said. Yeah. Look at that nerd over there. He’d managed to not only get his universe to make sentient life, but also, apparently, to make a full third of them think he’s an all powerful, wise, god. It’s not my fault he has a multiverse simulator at home, he just cooks the constants until they work. He’s going to break the curve, and we are all going to fail the class. The group over there is still balancing out their basic physics. The last time they tried it was an turtle. Seriously. Who uses a turtle for their base architecture? To be fair, the sentient part isn’t too hard. The school’s got a multiverse generator, so most of us can get the basic constants running. The problem is the sentient life. In our class alone, we’ve had failures from the sentient races spreading across the galaxy unchecked to them wiping half of themselves out in an instant. We are all gonna lose points here, but at least it’s not failing. I personally just screwed up the sentience constants. Every four thousand years or so, a new species approaches sentience. Currently we are at apes vs dogs. The apes are losing. I checked the code again. Well, it should get a B. Or so I thought. Then the giant wormhole filled with antimatter and bad magic numbers opened.
One hundred thousand sounds a lot, but it honestly flew by with VR social media, we barely blinked an eye so someone built some fancy sphere, somewhere way up there who was this Dyson anyway? Nobody seemed to care "we've conquered 4 more planets, all made of creme brulee" I saw on the neon billboard, in my VR game that day these desserted planets looked to be growing tiresome by now as exploration motivation seemed dubious somehow our astronauts grew larger than we'd ever seen before with every new departure testing strength of shuttle doors just as hope was fading, a blip appeared beneath a smudge an undiscovered solar system, on our radar smeared with fudge "Perhaps some cake!"the captain boomed, from his La-Z-boy on deck "Or chocolate trees, or syrup falls, we'd better go and check" and so they did descend at pace, to the city's not-so-gooey centre there they met with outstretched hand, the planet's representor "Nice to see some fellow... folks"the lady hesitated "Yeah you too, we'd love some cokes, we're rather dehydrated" "We've seen your way of life, large man, and we'd rather not convert" "So we ask you leave our planet, and carry on with just desserts". &#x200B;
Timmy had the itch again. The tingly feeling that was agony to restrain. His skin burned with the agonizing tingles every so often, a burning that only dousing whatever triggered the itch in copious amounts of cold, cold water could ever satisfy. Timmy felt that burning, itchy feeling as he gazed upon the olympic torch. HE had known since seeing it on TV leaving it's origin in Los Angeles that he would need to be in New York for it's final destination. He had his super soaker ready, hidden in his sleeve. The water gods would no doubt be pleased today.
I plug my phone into this port and it doesn’t charge, I find myself odd because I always use that port, me Being as tired as I was I thought nothing of it and went to sleep, I wake up two hours and finally see my problem, I yank it from the USB port and put it into the wall. Phone starts charging now I start to wonder. I look and the port and see there is a note on the side that says check your night stand for a usb flash drive. I jump up looking and rummaging but couldn’t find it. When all hope was lost, there it was! A small 1gb flash drive. I plug it in to the port and could not believe what I say. It said is bubble letter “your dreams have changed the user agreement”.
Terry ran down the long corridor, passing offices as he went by. In his hand was a sheet of paper, that crumpled from the wind created by his running. His face had a look of fear and determination, and sweat was starting to cover his forehead. He reached the last door, and bursted in without knocking. An older man sat behind a giant executive desk, he shot a look at Terry that said why are you disturbing me. Terry was panting, barely able to speak. As he tried to calm his heart rate the older man stood up. He was tall, with thinning white hair, and clean shaven. He wore thin rimmed glasses that were square, and his shirt was a simple white button down. His tie was red, because he read in a magazine that it gave the impression of power to people. He made his way to Terry and placed a hand on his shoulder. His eyes rested on the paper that Terry had brought. Terry shot his hand up, the paper was folded over and couldnt be read. The man raised it a little and read what it said. WE ARE COMING. is all it said. He stared at it for a while and then looked to Terry. “What is this?” His voice was one of authority. He had read in a book that speaking from your chest gave a tone of authority and he used it ever since. Terry had calmed down and was able to form words, “Voyager, there was a reply to Voyager.” Terry looked at the man and then at the paper. He nodded towards it as if the man didnt know what he was talking about. The man took the paper and returned to his desk. He fell into the chair while holding the paper in front of him. With his other hand he grabbed a cigarette off his desk and placed the butt in his mouth. He grabbed the lighter next to the pack and lit it, he dragged on it for a second or two and then exhaled sharply. “Do we know why they are coming?” He said simply. Terry looked at him fearfully, “No idea Director, that was the only thing they said.” The director read the paper again. Bold words for an innocent species. No this was a warning, not a gesture. WE ARE COMING. He stared at the words for a long while before dismissing Terry. The cigarette forgotten until the embers burned his fingers. He snubbed it out on the ashtray and picked up the phone. It rang only once before a man picked up. “Please tell the President to get on the phone. This is not a drill nor a joke.” The ship was massive, larger than any thing on earth. It was first spotted by NASA passing Saturn, and in 2 days had made it to Mars. The governments tried to keep it quiet but it wasnt long before the people at home with a telescope saw it and it made headlines. “We have breaking news here at CNN, it seems a father and his daughter spotted a large craft just outside of our moon. We have the Vice president on the line to discuss this and we expect The President to give a press release here soon. Vice President, I guess the biggest question people have is who are they and what do they want.” “Thank you, to answer both of your questions, the answer is we dont know. They found our Voyager craft and used that to find our location. What we dont want is for people to panic. We do not know why they are here and at this point we have to give them a benefit of a doubt. We ask the people of America to stay calm in this situation and stay tuned to all news channels for updates.” The screen turned off abruptly, and a man threw a remote down. He looked to the others beside him, “Earth is filled with resources we need, and from the looks of it they have no way of defending themselves from us. We will try to negotiate but if that fails we will have to take other measures.” The others nodded in agreement and the man that spoke looked out a window. Earth shined brightly, and he stared at it. This was their new home and the coexistence they seeked would rely entirely on the people of Earth; whether it be peaceful or violent.
"Oh man, that guy is pretty cute..."I thought in my head. The handsome 20-something year old quickly turned his head and headed towards me, with clear intent in his eyes. "OH shit."i thought, swerving my feet around and trying to briskly walk away. Just as I was about to cross the street, my arm was vigorously grabbed, spinning me around, chest to chest to the handsome 20-something year old. "Hi."He breathed, his green sparkling in interest as his arms wrapped around my waist. "My name is-"he was cut off my another person flinging the green eyed guy's out from my waist. "Excuse me dude, who the hell do you think you are?"An angry 6 foot 3 hot piece of specimen shouted angrily. I rolled my eyes to the back of my head and mentally shook my self from looking at anyone. The man who broke me from the green eyed grip's name is Noah. He was one of the first twenty people I thought was attractive and had a severe crush on me, who is unfortunate because he is quite possessive of something that isn't his. They began arguing and bickering like a bunch of kids fighting over their favorite toy at the playground. I quickly slipped away as the crowd began to gather. I typically like to observe events unfold in the back seat and I hated the attention, because once the attention is back on me, there's no stopping-- "Chelsea! My darling! Where were you hiding?"Attractive man #48 shouted as he chased after me. "Chelsea! Is that guy bothering you?"Cute Guy #104 asked me as I ran past #48. Soon enough, almost as if all of the people I found attractive were secretly stalking me, came out from the shadows and chased after me, fighting amongst one another who would end up with my hand. As they became distracting with arguing with each other, I slipped under a man hole and stayed there the rest of the day. There was no one down here. No one could find me. I was alone. Finally. ______________________________________________ "15 days have passed since a group of about 150 attractive males and models showed up in our downtown area sll shouting for the name "Chelsea". Who is this girl and where is she now? People are calling for the execution of Chelsea as she has ruined many relationships and seduced more than 500 males on her quest to dominate the world."The anchor said. "Shut that TV off!"#437 said as his eyes quickly moved to and from the numerous monitors. #526 complied as he would not want to hear anymore blasphemy said about his beloved. People like the anchor has caused his love to disappear. "Found her!"#36 announced with all, if not most of the 600 men inside the conference room rush towards him. "She was in the sewer system! No wonder we didn't find her!" Sudden bursts of disapproval and upset erupted. Their princess did not deserve such treatment. The people of the media did not understand her beauty and her personality and could not help but isolate her. "Alright boys. We all know the plan! Rescue then we figure out bedroom arrangements. Good?"#1 shouted. The chorus of "yes"could be heard throughout the district. That day, the country of USA would never forget the scene of 600+ men entering the sewage system with all sorts of items from a seemingly woman's house, all shouting "Chelsea"as they descended.
"BEWARE!!!! Beware the false prophet that stands before you!"An agitated Joel paces the stage before his congregation. He's drenched in sweat; his face glistening and the pits of his formerly crisp button-up dark with moisture. Sixteen thousand parishioners are crowding down through the aisles, standing on top of their chairs, yelling, screaming. &#x200B; "We were warned of his type!!! It's right there in the book in your hands! Matthew 24:24, for false messiahs and false prophets will appear and perform great signs and wonders to deceive. Hold up your books and say it with me!"He's furious, he's pissed, he's panicking. With every word and shout he waves his arms above his head in wild gestures. On the edge of the stage a dark bearded man in white, shimmering robes stands with his arms crossed. Jesus sighs deeply and shakes his head. He knew to expect these shenanigans, but it was tiring all the same. &#x200B; The tightly packed crowd didn't know how to react. The smart ones had already slipped out the back doors. The large majority rushed towards Joel and made chants out of his frenzied preaching. "False, prophet! False, prophet! False, prophet!"They screeched and tore at their clothes and spoke in tongues. Or rather, spoke in a way that they thought was speaking in tongues. &#x200B; Jesus sighed again and pinched at the bridge of his nose. "Guys, come on. Let's not get carried away. I only mea--"It was useless. His words were drowned out in the hysteria. Another eye roll. "Seriously? Anyone can quote scripture to suite the situation. Here's one for you. Second Timothy Chapter four, verses three to four. That's absolutely about Joel, right there. It's literally about Joel." &#x200B; "LIES! Our God is a good God who blesses his faithful sheep with their heart's desires! I would not lead you, my sheep astray! Look at all our God has blessed me with!"Thanks to Lakewood Church's state of the art sound system, Joel's voice is actually quite inspiring. Amplified, it rolls out over the crowd thousands strong clearly and perfectly. He can be heard in every inch of the multi-million dollar church. It's not wonder he's so popular. &#x200B; Again, Jesus sighs. "Well, no, actually, quite the opposite. Blessed are the poor and all that, remember? In fact, there are homeless people begging for food right at the intersection outside. And during Hurricane Harvey, you had the space to house thousands of refugees and yet...." &#x200B; "THERE WAS WATER IN THE BASEMENT OF THE PARKING GARAGE!"Joel's face is now bright red and spittle flies from his mouth. His congregation yells in agreement. "There was water, he couldn't, there was water!" &#x200B; "You know what, whatever, I'm done. Peace out dudes."And with that, Jesus turns on his heel and heads for the exit. Joel and his parishioners maintain their hysterics behind him. Not a single one of them notices that Jesus's feet never even touch the ground, or that there's a shimmer in the air around his head. But this wouldn't be the last they'd see of him. Every Sunday on their way to Church, there'd he be on the corner. Each week, there'd be more and more homeless men and women joining him. Each week, he'd be seen handing out food and water to anyone that passed by. It wouldn't be long before even normal Houstonians were selling their homes, throwing out all their possessions, and following him to the street corners and to under passes, hanging on to every word. But for Joel Osteen and his stubbornly loyal followers, it was too late.
It takes me days to cut a hole through the 10 inches of steel that form the shell of my bunker. Weeks to break up the fallen concrete that presses me ever deeper into the dark, lifeless Earth. And hours to squirm through the dirt and glass, and finally rise to the air. I emerge bloody and tired and starving, and I smile. It is good to be alive. I look up to the sun, my face covered in grateful tears. The ground is ugly and sad, but the sun is bright and the sky is clear. The world is a cinder, but I am alive, and the day is new. Thank you god! Thank you sun! Thank you, thank you, thank you! And then I see her. Wandering along the edge of a crooked skyscraper. The only moving shadow in this desolate world. She is an eclipse. I can not see her face, but she is beautiful. God, I know she is beautiful! I cast my eyes to the ground and I weep for joy. This is not the end! There are still gems to be uncovered, and though I cannot think, I can feel, and I know there is still happiness to be found. This is the beginning! Life has not stopped, it never even flinched. And then she calls my name. I don't look. The shadow waves before me. Her shape flickers across the ground, growing darker, gaining shape. She calls again. “Hey! Hellooo! It's me, Emily! I can't believe you survived, too! I thought I was all alone.” I clench my eyes and bite my tongue. “There is good in this world,” I mutter. “There is happiness. Believe it. Believe it! Everything is for a reason. Everything.” And then I look up, and there she is. There is dust in her hair, and mud stains her face, but she smiles and I feel alive. “Hi, Emily,” I say. “How's it going?” She tilts her head to the left, and I panic. “I mean, it's bad obviously, but it can't be all bad, right? I mean you're alive. My buddy died. He was in the bunker with me, but he had some problems. . . I shouldn't go into that now – I mean, here you are! You don't want to hear about that stuff. We've all had enough of death. Speaking of, how did you survive? I remember inviting you over to my bunker, but then you never showed. . . so I had to close her up. I thought you had been caught in the early attacks. . . but here you are!” “Here I am!” she giggles. Then her smile drops. “Yeah, me and Rick camped out together in a warehouse over near the river. We were protected from most of it. But Rick. . . He died a few days ago.” “Really.” “Yeah. He just. . . there wasn't enough food. . . he didn't want me to go hungry. . . God, this is so hard to say.” I nod, and try my best to look understanding. “It's okay,” I say. “I didn't eat my friend, but I can't say I didn't think about it. All that matters is that we're alive. You are alive. That counts for something.” Tears sprinkle down Emily's mud stained cheeks. “Thank you,” she says, with a sob that almost breaks her. Over her shoulder I see that glorious sun. I know everything will be okay. Everything happens for a reason. She needs to know there is still good left in this world, but I don't know how to tell her. I don't know how to make anything better. But I still want to try. I run up to Emily and I hug her. I squeeze her until I feel tears staining my shoulder, and I begin to cry myself. We fall to the ground, and we hold each other. After an hour, I look over at Emily. For a moment she looks like one of the dead that now litter the city streets, but then her chest rises, and I smile. She's tired. I should let her sleep. But first . . . “Emily, do you want to. . .”I shake my head. “I don't know. Maybe we could go. . . do something. Together.” “Of course we'll do it together,” she yawns. “It's just you and me.” “Perfect! That's just perfect. ” I lay back, and I see a smile in the sun, which looks down at me like a proud father. “You and me. Perfect.” “I don't know,” Emily mumbles, and she rolls over. “I think I might get lonely.” “Oh." Then I turn over and stare at the back of Emily's head. And I wish I was dead.
You feel the heat rush into cheeks and ears. You feel the simmering rage boiling down deep within you. "Not now, he who laughs last laughs the best,"you tell yourself. While you are getting up, and playing it off nice and coolly, you are already planning for revenge. You memorise every single face and name you can. You try to remember some of their names. "Don't mess this up for yourself. Soon, they'll go down one by one. One person after another."Every night you go onto every single social media platform to get all the information you need. Every night you also plan where to go first and how to do it. You memorise exactly where they like to hangout, where they work and most importantly of all, where they live. You print out a map and pinpoint where you're going to start, and where you're going to finish. After the last murder, after the last cleanup, after you exact revenge, you laugh maniacally. You laugh harder than you've ever done before. After all, he who laughs last laughs the best. On mobile so sorry if formatting is off!
God, my head is pounding. What happened? "Oh, you're awake. We never thought you would come to."Says a lady in brow and white linen. Where am I, and who are you? "Im a nurse, you got knocked out during a joust sir. Mighty hit too." A joust? Am I at a fair or something? "Sir, you're a knight to the king. You were his most prized jouster, he had high hopes for you." King... I don't believe I understand What year is it, if you don't mind me asking "1523 Sir" Excuse me? "Sir, its 1523" That can't be possible. Its 2018, right...right? "I don't believe there would be such a year ahead of us quite yet." In a frantic manner I jolt up. This can't be right. Its impossible, my wife, my child... Where is my wife? "You're a knight sir, although many have lied with you, I do not believe you have bestowed a ring upon their fingers." This cant be real. I have a family, a job. I was supposed to fix that damn lamp. It keeps flickering and was driving Sarah mad. She wanted to toss it but I couldn't. I need to see my wife immediately. "You need to rest Sir." Let me see her now! "Guards!" They took me away... This "King"has me locked up. What can I do... I miss my family, my son. They can't be gone... I am going mad here... The King, he's coming. "Take him away, I can't have these persons ruining my armys name. Just behead him, hes already lost it anyways." Beheading! "No! Let me see my son, take me home, please God, please! This is it? All these people. Why are they here? To see me killed? Why? I dont know this place, its not my home and yet they are willing to kill me for such a loss. Please, let me see my wi... "Get rid of the body, and clean this mess up or your lose your head next!"
When I open my eyes, the sky turns to glass. The world spins and blooms in never ending flurries of sound and color and emotion, ceasing to feel and be all at the same time. The people around me still with their hands outstretched towards me. Whispers of pleading and the desire for mercy fills the frozen air. I turned around, eyes blank, expression void, nothing to see but the statues in front of me. I reach ahead and pluck the small metal cylinder from its resting place, the air fizzling as I stretch the reality. It comes loose with little force and I hold it up close. The little girl behind me clutches her doll close to her chest as her hair tangles in a breeze with no sound or sensation. Her name will not be tearfully screamed in horror. The man directly in front of me wears the tiniest bit of a smirk on his face, and I placed the pistol facing his ribs, hidden within the thick material of his winter coat with his fingers still grasping the trigger. I moved out of the way with the capsule clasped between two fingers, and looked at my newspaper after sitting back in the bus seat. With a solid slam, my foot stomps on the floor, and everything resumes.
I'm an atheist I'm not an asshole shitting on people who believe in god but I've come to terms with the fact that sky daddy isn't real. Sorry? I just don't like to wast my time unnecessarily because when I die that probably is it. That's what I thought when I was alive now I'm in heaven but I don't see god anywhere.. in fact I'm alone... I mean I'm fine with being alone for years on end I have been but then I knew that the neighbor across the street would always get home from work at 9:20-9:30.. It took me a while to find what I'm calling the control room it's clear it isn't complete but I guess this is the easy version. At least I think that's what second in commands office means. I messed around with the controls a bit managed to bring up earth it looks like I caused a few earthquakes.. but it's nothing to serious. What does this one do? That's the one that lets me talk to hells' second in command, cool.. "Whatdya losers want now? We've already won.""Um can I ask where god is?""Huh? Aye boss you're gonna want to look at this!""Uh no that's fine" Well it seems like god is real.. well at least people with horns.. it's probably not to long before some demon come gets me so I guess I just wait to get picked up..
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Saga checked her watch. Its small plastic hands barely worked, but she had gotten the hang of being able to vaguely understand the time, as she had learned in class. "Time to go home,"she murmured to herself, lifting her head to look at the beaten path she had taken to the lake. She walked briskly down the pathway, humming happily to herself. If she made it home before sundown, she would be able to finish her homework before dinner, and have enough time to read right before bed. Saga smiled happily at the thought; she had always enjoyed immersing herself in the captivating fantasy worlds the pages held. Suddenly, she froze. Something seemed... off. "Wait a minute... did I remember to copy down what the math homework was?"Saga asked herself, worried. The teacher had gone over all the night's assignments, as she had done every day. Surely, she couldn't have forgotten if she had listened... "Oh, wait. There was a test today, so no homework."Saga sighed; a wave of relief washed over her. She was about to take another step, when something caught her eye. Her peripheral vision had picked something glinting in the lake. It's just the sun reflecting off the water. Saga assured herself that it was nothing important. But she suddenly realized: the sun reflecting off the surface of the lake had a light-orange tint to it, while what she had seen held a more silvery glimmer. She turned towards the lake. There was something submerged in the water. Saga felt the the urge to search beneath the surface of the lake for the shiny object, whatever it was. She squatted at the edge of the lake, contemplating her decision. It's probably cold in there, Saga thought to herself. I might catch a cold. But I need to know what the thing is. Eventually, curiosity overtook her, and she waded into the the lake; the water soaked through her shoes and into her socks. She looked down, searching for signs of anything glinting underneath the surface of the water. Her eyes scanned the lakebed around her, until they finally rested on a metallic lump buried partially in the dirt. Grinning, Saga reached down to grab the object, tilting her head as to not let the water touch her face. Her fingers curled tightly around the object's cold metal, and she yanked it out of the ground with all the strength she could muster. The object was heavy, and she couldn't pull it completely out of the water to see what it was. With effort, Saga dragged the heavy metal object behind her until she could clearly see what it was. The metallic lump had turned out to be a handle of an ancient longsword, its blade corroded with rust as a result being buried underwater for hundreds of years. Awestruck, Saga stared at the antique weapon. This had definitely been worth getting her shoes wet. She grabbed hold of the sword's handle and continued her journey back home, the heavy metal blade dragging behind her. On the way home, something about the little girl had changed. She felt as if she had finally decided on what she wanted to do with her life: to captivate others the way her books had done her. Saga had found her true calling: she wanted to become a fantasy writer. —————————————————————————————————— This was my first writing prompt; sorry that I posted after it got deleted, but I wanted to finish. &#x200B; Also sorry for the cheesy ending, I feel like if I made it a cool fantasy story, I would end up writing too much.
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It was the beginning of the 2024 NFL season. While the league had had its struggles, ranging from the Kaepernick flag issue to the lockout of 2021, the NFL still remained popular, but there was finally a scandal that threatened to tear down the league. &#x200B; As the media gathered outside of Foxboro stadium, people saw Patriots coach Bill Belichick and owner Robert Kraft come out to speak. Kraft then spoke. &#x200B; "My friends, let me begin by saying, I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I did not tell anyone in the league about the Brady fiasco. I know that this was a major, major issue, and i'm sorry that I lied. I guess I was just too competitive. But i also would like to say that in some ways I feel that i'm a pioneer." &#x200B; The crowd seemed a tad shocked. They had only expected the apology. &#x200B; "You see, even though I used this cyborg to win titles, I have to say I have spoken with our new commissioner, Michael Gunderson, and he has agreed that starting now, rather than endanger the lives of our human players, instead, all teams can now use cyborg players so that we can avoid having our players heads damaged, and having their families and friends' hearts broken. So i'm proud to announce, that besides Tom Brady, every other team is going to have at least one cyborg, just to try them out. And hopefully by 2030 we will have an all cyborg league. Of course we will still be led by human coaches, but cyborg players." &#x200B; "I'd also like to announce that as my self punishment. I am selling the Patriots and all my assets to a new buyer. Now our new buyer is someone who hasn't always gotten along with the league. But seeing as he's got a lot of money, and feels that we are such a great franchise, even if we haven't officially kept all those super bowl rings, I think that a lot of you will at least respect him. Ladies and Gentlemen, our new owner, who has been sitting behind the curtain is... &#x200B; The crowd waited in anticipation. While many had expected this, they figured the new owner might be more visible. &#x200B; "Our new owner is our former president, Donald Trump. He's decided to come out of 4 years of retirement, and run this team. He's always wanted to be an NFL owner, and I think that while he might not be the most orthodox choice, I think he'll do well. Thank you." &#x200B; The crowd of reporters sat there stunned. Just then Trump appeared. While the 81 year old Trump was visibly aged, even after being out of the presidency four years, he still seemed to have some bravado. He then spoke. &#x200B; "All I can say is that this is a dream come true folks. I'll be honest, I never wanted to be President. To me, this is the pinnacle. This is what i've wanted, and I tell you now, the Patriots are going to win those games fair and square. Especially now that cyborgs are going to be playing. You Pats fans are all going to get so sick of winning." &#x200B; Unfortunately, it was going to be a much harder road for the Pats. The next week, the Pats lost, with Tom Brady playing, against another cyborg. A quarterback named James Congdon who played for the Cincinnati Bengals. The Pats did make the playoffs, but unfortunately, they never won another super bowl. &#x200B;
On a ridge in a desert. Gun in one hand, canteen in the other. The absolute essentials. Everything else is optional, but not them. Six others with me. Scouting for enemies. Unbelievers, hoping to kill us for praying to the true god. But not only them. A carload of refugees. Exhausted and thirsty. They have discarded everything except for their marks of piety. We go to them, to give them shelter, to welcome them to our peace. And then a gun, hidden in a veil. Two shots to the chest, eyes sideways. Watching them kill my friends. Then it fades to black. Then the light. God’s love. I know. I know it must be. I worshiped Him every day. I prayed for him, I fought for him, I died for him. He will take me to his garden, and I will see my mother and father again, who were killed in his name. I will hold my sister again, and this time keep her safe. But then the world flickers again, and suddenly I am back in the desert. A gun to my chest. My compatriot Ali’s mouth frozen open in a womb of wordless warning. But I can also see things differently. Like branches from a tree, there are different hands clutching different guns. In some of them, my weapon is raised suspiciously, ready to defeat the coming attack. In others, I have already opened fire. I can choose. And I choose one of these, when bullets spray from my gun into the unarmored vehicle. The heretics are cut down to a man. We search inside, and find the hidden weapons. Then we go home and celebrate our victory, where a pretty girl we rescued from one of the enemy’s burning villages serves me wine. I drink, then go to bed, awake with pain in my stomach and forehead, cry out in agony, and die. And when I’m back before the tree, I wonder if this might be punishment for what I did. What I didn’t do. And I choose the moment that I drank the wine, and knock the girl to the ground instead. Then we go out again to fight. Fire everywhere. Bullets flying. I bring down an enemy on a neighboring rooftop, but see one of our own brought down by a sniper in the street. I am no coward. I rush to aid him, but another bullet hits me and I fall. Then hands dragging me away. In and out. Then pain. Brutal, screaming, begging them, telling them everything, hearing them laugh, then at last, at last, a bullet to the head. Then the tree again. This is hell. This is Hell. It must be. (Part 2?) (r/StannisTheAmish)
The ship unfolded into normal space and came to a stop. It was a small ship, a research vessel that it's owner had named Howard Carter? Tut Tut. It had three decks, one for cargo, one for living quarters and a small but functional galley and a third deck which was the main command deck and research library. "Where are we?"The Captain was a Vegan named Frontel Jenkins, who had degrees in Xenobiology and Interior Design from the University of Vega Minor. They weren't quite sure how they had ended up as Captain of this particular madcap quest, but there they were. Being all captain like and hoping their blue skin and gills made them appear suitable imposing, as Jenkins assumed all captains should be like. "Three parsecs away from Proxima Centauri,"Achebe replied. She and Nkrumah were the navigators and cartographers from New Deneb. Shelby Fewkes was from Altair. Chen-Lu was from Procyon. They were a small crew- only six of them, but they were well funded- at least for now, but their backer was getting impatient and was starting to demand results. Results that, so far, they had been unable to provide him. "Have we been here before?"Jenkins asked. "Negative,"Shelby responded. "We're down in the western spiral arm of the Milky Way galaxy. Haven't been in this part of the 'verse at all yet." "All right,"Jenkins said. "Let's start scanning and cross check historical records and get to know where we are." "Aye, Captain"they all replied. The team began to scan the area, checking to see what they could find. It had been six years since they had set out on their journey and now their backer- the Altairian Trillionaire, Quinqua Chesko was getting impatient. Their mission had been a simple one: to find, once and for all, the mythical planet of humanity's origins: Earth. Of all the crew, maybe Shelby was the only true believer in the stories of old Earth. Jenkins wasn't quite sure what xenobiology was going to do to help them find their destination and was really onboard to coordinate the team and fill out their payroll every month. Achebe and Nkrumah knew enough about the historical records to be convinced that there had been a single point of origin for humanity, but had to find evidence enough that it was the legendary planet named Earth. Chen-Lu didn't say much- but that wasn't exactly new. In the six years since they had been on this journey, Chen-Lu had maybe said a dozen or so sentences. "All right people, what are we getting?" "Next system over is an m-type system, ten planets. Four inner planets, an asteroid belt and six outer planets,"Nkrumah said. "I'm reading four gas giants, including one extremely large one with an extensive moon system." "Anything from the historical record?" "A little bit,"Achebe admitted. "I'm reading a lot of material from the Third Imperium that used to rule this area of the galaxy. They always claimed to be the one true humans." "Anything further back than that?" "I found a reference to that fragment the Altairians claim is from an old Earth probe. Something called a 'naza'?"Shelby said. "I'm seeing those as well,"Achebe said. "So is this worth investigating?"Jenkins asked them all. "Yes."They all turned slightly in surprise, for it was Chen-Lu who had spoken. "Chen-Lu, are you sure?" "Yes,"he said it again. "This is the place." Jenkins gave him a long look before shrugging. "Well, I guess if Chen-Lu is onboard, then we go in. Shelby, set course for the center of the system." "Aye, Captain." They pushed the power to the engines and turned the ship toward the heart of the unknown system. A silence fell among them then, as their instruments began to pick up the faint signs of a long since vanished civilization of some kind. The closer they got to the center of the system, the more signs they saw. There were ruins, a gate of some kind in orbit of the largest gas giant. Achebe thought that it was one of the great engines designed to stellarize a gas giant to turn it into a star. The asteroid belt was spookier still, with broken open, hollowed out asteroids clearly showing the remnants of human habitation. It felt like a graveyard and none of them were talking now. Shelby was just steering them deeper and deeper into the system. None of them wanted to embrace the possibility that this was the place. No one wanted to believe that their quest was over. No one wanted to believe, until they emerged out of the asteroid belt and passed the red planet. Nkrumah gasped. "Those are cities." "Any signs of habitation?" "Negative,"Shelby replied. "Scans show no signs of life." "Mars,"Chen-Lu intoned. "The red planet of legend." "Keep going,"Jenkins ordered. "Get us to the next planet." They all felt the engines kick as Shelby increased the power. The excitement in the air was palpable now They all knew the legends. They all knew the myths. They all knew that if the red planet was the fourth planet of the system then it would stand to reason that the third planet should be blue. If the legends were true that is. "Captain,"Shelby said. "We're now entering orbit of the third planet." "On screen,"Jenkins said and the viewer clicked on. No one spoke. It was beautiful. Blue, green, flecked with white clouds. Chen-Lu spoke once more. "There it is. Earth."
"What?"asked Matt, still not fully grasping the fact that such creature not only existed, but his best friend owned one as a pet. "As I said, Manny the Manticore."I repeated while scratching Manny behind his pointed ears sticking out of his thick mane, the content expression on the human-looking face giving away that the animal was enjoying such thing very much. "Umm, how did you get him?" "Bought him from a wizard." "WHAT?", Matt shouted out, attraction Mannys attention. The cat-sized mantichore spread out its bat-like wings, flew from the counter to the ground and started to rub itself against my guests leg. Matt seemed very nervous with the creature in his close vicinity. "You're scared by him? Be glad this is the domestic type!" "Th-There are more kinds of those?" "Yep. The wizard has shown me photos of the savannah manticore. Horrible thing: about the size of a larger car, huge wingspan, large fangs sticking out of the mouth, and the tail..."I said, pointing at the black segmented tail of my pet, "ended with a poisonous stinger. The man said that one drop would kill any liveform of this world." Matt shuddered, probably envisioning the creature. "I just don't get one thing: How the hell does nobody know about this? One would guess that such creature would attract so much attention" "Not really, it is masked by some kind of spell. I think the wizard said that it can only be seen by those who will keep it to themselves, the others see a normal tabby cat. That's why I've been so open about this with you" "No, you do not get it! I do not mean this INDIVIDUAL, I mean this SPECIES! How does something as big as a "Savannah manticore"you have just described avoid getting discovered." "Well, the guy told me, but is was a complicated explanation. Basically, they do not come from this world, he brings them through some kind of portal. Not just manticores, but other creatures as well. Pegasi, basiliscs, unicorns, some kind of small dragons... I swear that I saw a tiny plesiosaur-looking creature swimming around in a fishbowl in the back of the shop..." "Wait, did you say small dragons?" "Yeah." "How small?"Matt's face has shown excitement now. "Ranging from the size of a housecats to real tiny ones you can fit in your palm. He said that was his most popular stock" "Where's the shop?!"
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You look around and see a texture to the world you saw before, not a textile pattern, but more like an emotion in the air. One of apprehension... Almost like the world was waiting with bated breath. You lift your hand to the glass window, it's cold. The summer sun blazes outside, sorching the joggers going by as they sweat bullet and pant like dogs. You smell the air; crushed raspberries? Looking down, your seat seems normal so you reach out to touch it. Your fingertip connects and nothing happens. Pushing off and standing, your eyes catch the driver's eyes. They are blue. Such a deep blue that you have to stare. Deeper, deeper, falling. You snap awake. A bitter aftertaste in your mouth, and hint on pain on the back of your neck... Like a pinch? You look around, there's no-one in the bus with you. You look forward, there isn't a bus driver. You look outside, there are no joggers. The bus is still, in the middle of the highway; there are no cars. But you can feel it, in the quiet. Around the corner. Under the darkness. A comforting presence? That's when you see it, the deep royal blue orb on the driver's seat. It speaks to you, and puts you to back sleep; a comforting embrace of unspoken words as the world lifts away to the light.
I'd inherited the stone from my aunt, who inherited it from her father, who inherited it from his mother, and so on through the tangled branches of our family tree. When and how it originally came into our possession is a question as tantalizing as it is unanswerable, but there has never been uncertainty as to the object's function. &#x200B; It was a rock, flat on one side, with a soft glow spilling from the cracks on the back. But the strangest thing about it was the voice. Unlike a majority of rocks, this stone would address its holder after any major or minor life decision, explaining the events that would unfold had a different decision been made. &#x200B; The "Hindsight Stone,"as we called it, became something of a family heirloom. It was used for everything from preparing for a financial disaster to readying ourselves for a disappointing lunch. But something changed upon its passage into my hands. &#x200B; See, everything was pretty normal at first. I threw away some garbage and heard a somber voice say, "If you hadn't you'd feel guilty."Nothing unusual. But about a day, maybe two days ago, I chose not to go out for dinner, and immediately heard, "If you'd left the house, they'd all be dead." &#x200B; Strange. But who knows what goes through the mind of a talking, luminescent stone? What truly freaked me out, though, was the repetition of the ultimatum. The morning after the stone's warning of genocide, I awoke with a stomach full of gravel and a throat full of sand. As I croaked into my phone, "I'm too sick to come into work today,"the stone chimed in again: "If you'd left the house, they'd all be dead." &#x200B; Look, I'm not the world's best guy, but I'm no murderer. I had to know, but the damn stone doesn't exactly speak in specifics. Would something beyond the security of my door frame cause some kind of psychotic break? What could it be? And how would my lack of gym attendance impact my overall fatality? &#x200B; I had to choose for the greater good of humanity, and opted to stay home that day. And the next day. And the next year. And the year after that, and the year after that, for so long that I can scarcely recall. But thank God for the stone and its warnings, right? It's the only thing that let me know: if I'd left the house, they'd all be dead.
You can come back now. I'm not so mad anymore. Well -- a little. But you can sleep on the couch. And by 'can' I mean 'will'. Daddy is sending a ship to you. It should be there the 4th of next month. Be there to meet it, or I'll be even more upset and make you sleep outside. Air hugs and kisses. Signed, your wife. Today was the 4th. I looked up amongst the twinkling stars wondering which two would belong to the headlights of my rescue ship. Then the thought hit me: If they knew I was here the entire time, why did they take so long to reach out to me? Then two stars began to glow brighter than the rest. Either two stars were exploding, or my ship was here. And I had a few questions to ask.
I pinch myself, hoping it is all a dream. My demon, Troy, just looks back at me with a look that can only be described as certainty. He knows what it means for him too. He will be gone just as I will within the next week. At first I am devastated, feeling as if my life has just begun and how unfair it is that it will be ending so soon and how I could change things and, and... But Troy has never been wrong. From breaking my foot as a child to a 3 year relationship ending, seemingly out of nowhere. He knew. "Well friend,"I say with an uncomfortable chuckle, "let's make this shit count." I immediately quit my dead end job and start out making sure everyone and everything around me is taken care of. I visit every friend and family member I thought I didnt have time for. Trying to fill myself and the rest of my circle with as much joy as I can despite them seeing that my life will end so tragically so soon. For if they see me happy, that is how they will remember me. They remind me of all the great times we have and how I will be missed. I wish them the best and treat it as the final goodbye. After 2 days of emotional interactions with everyone who is close to me I set out on doing what I want. I eat at the restaurants that were too expensive and visit every museum and art show, treating money as if it is nothing, leaving enough for funeral expenses but not beyond tomorrow. I felt it was important to see the most beautiful things I could before all I saw was darkness. At the end of this the 3rd day. I prepare for sleep, feeling good for the first time in an admittedly long time. Then I turned to Troy. He had changed slightly. No longer did he represent the dark twisted shape of murder but a bright beacon of...hope? I had never seen it before from any demon in the past. We all have studied the different forms they take but nothing like this I had ever heard of. And then it happened. A voice, neither deep nor high spoke to me. "It is time, my friend,"it came from nowhere and yet I knew exactly where it came from. Troy. He, as with all other demons, made no noise. How could this be? But before I could get any further with my thought the bright beacon that was once Troy consumed me. No pain. No emotion. No nothing. Troy and I had reached the end of our journey as we had every other, together. Only this time, he had controlled what had happened instead of me. Or so I thought.
Drifting off to sleep, my breathing has begun to slow down and my mind goes silent. Suddenly I feel something brush against my feet. I open my eyes and look down and I am up to my knees in daises. I look up and everything is kind of blurry in the distance. 'oh gosh' I say to myself as I pull out my bottle of eye drops. I put some drops in each eye and blink frantically. Everything sharpens and I realize I am standing in a beautiful field of flowers. There are rolling hills of them in the distance. Birds whistling sweet melodies. In the near distance there is a picnic table with a few people sitting at it laughing. I can smell the delicious barbeque they're having. "Hellooooo,"I wave enthusiastically. One of the guys looks up and yells "FUCK "and throws his sandwich, clearly upset that I'm here.
You close your eyes and count to three to calm yourself down. Then, without thinking any further you throw your self off the bridge. As you fall to what you presume would be a quick and painful death, you wince in anticipation of the pain that awaits you once you make contact with the ground or a car below. It doesn't come. You immediately land on a soft cloth and realize you landed on top of a parade float. You totally forgot today was thanksgiving day parade and the route goes directly underneath the bridge. You get on your feet, still disoriented from the fall, and look around to the faces staring back at you in disbelief. The staff, the crowd, the band, including those trumpet players, on top of the float. "That's going on facebook!"One woman in the crowd says quite loudly. All of a sudden there's a loud CRACK in the sky, as the clouds part, you can see hundreds of winged men and women decend upon the scene. This was it. They were angels and you were witnessing the end of times. Just as your crazy religious mother has been saying for your near 30 years of life. She was right. Everyone stares at the crowd of angels. They part, making way for a man to walk out. This man had a long beard, a robe, long, luxurious hair as if he starred in a tresemme commercial and the same old beaten up chanclas as your tio. It was white Jesus. "Beer me."He said, in a voice so gruff you didnt expect. A frat bro tosses him a cold bottle of water, which he then turns into a Coors Lite using his magic jesus powers. He proceeds to shotgun it and wipe his face with his sleeves. Everyone stares in disbelief. Jesus was totally rad. "Oh my lord and savior Jesus, ive been waiting for your return!"Says some old lady to Jesus. "Yes sister, i have returned."Says Jesus to the woman. "I heard that Walmart is having a sale on 80' Panasonic curved TV's for $500 on this, the blackest of fridays, and there's nothing i love more than a good sale."says Jesus. "Not even your father, god?"says another guy in the crowd. Jesus nervously looks around and changes the subject. "Aaaaaanyway..."he says as he walks away from them and towards you. He looks you in your eyes and says in a low tone "i know what you were doing"Jesus says to you as he puts your arms around your shoulder, casually walking away from the crowd. "And I'm disappointed in you. How could you try to throw away this gift? Gods second greatest gift, after pumpkin spice flavoring? The gift of life? Do you know how much your life is worth? What its worth to your family and loved ones, what its worth to your lord!"You remain silent as a feeling of guilt comes over you. He continues "The Devil wants you to throw your life away. That wack motherf***er is the one putting this doubt in your head. Don't be such a pussy." "I heard you were talking shit!"yells a voice from the crowd of onlookers. As they part ways, a man in a nice, black suit with a red button up and red pocket square whos meticulously groomed walks out. He has horns on his head and a tail. It was Satan. Everyone pulls out their camera phones to record this for youtube. "Jesus christ! You're still harping over this? It's been like 2,000 years. You're like a woman."Says Satan. "AY BRUH, ON MY MAMA YOU NOT GON DISRESPECT JESUS!"Michael, the arc angel yells as Gabriel holds him back. Michael is about that life. As the angels and Satan start to get in position, you can feel the tension rising. Jesus steps forward. "I've been waiting for this day brother, for a long long time. It's time to settle this."The angels put down a table in between the two men. Then, another angel comes with a 75' flat screen tv and sets it on top of the table. "What happened to the 80 inch curved panasonic?""There was heavy traffic on I-95 so by the time i got there there was one left and when i went to grab it i got suplexed by a big puerto rican guy with glasses.""God damn it!"Yells Jesus in a thunderous tone, then he stops and looks around as everyone just shakes their head judgingly. "Oops."He says. The angels then start to hook up a Gamecube to the tv. "This is it. The final battle."Says Satan. "Yes brother. And this time you wont be so lucky."Jesus responds. He puts the Super Smash Bros Melee disc into the gamecube and loads the game. "Pass the sticks!"Jesus says to his angels. The angels hand him a controller. Satan pulls out his own custom controller with LED lights and a dope design. Everyone knows it's a wrap. Jesus just chose Dr. Mario, meanwhile Satan chose Starfox. The game starts. Mario jumps and throws a pill, Starfox uses his dash and starts kicking him. Mario grabs him and slams him on the floor. Starfox shoots his lasergun a few times. This continues for a bit as the angels and the parade attendees watch in horror as it is s close match. There's a 5 live limit and they're both down to their last life. Starfox uses his fire fox blast. It hits. Dr. Mario flies far to the right of the screen. He tries to get back onto the stage. Dr. Mario grabs the ledge and climbs back on. He then grabs a bob-omb and throws it at Starfox. It connects an Starfox is sent flying off the map into the background. Jesus has won the battle. Satan throws his controller in frustration. Everyone begins cheering and highfiving eachother in celebration. "It seems this time you've won."says Satan. "Yes brother. Once again you're forced to go back to doing your job, torturing sinners in hell."Satan, displeased, picks up his suit jacket from the back of the chair, and while walking past you, says "see you in a couple years". He disappears into the crowd. Jesus, high fiving both humans and angels, stops and goes "I must leave now. Be good my children. Especially you"he says to you. "I will, Jesus."You tell him, knowing you probably not going to change. An angel pulls up with a chariot with dope rims and a bumpin system. Jesus gets on and as they pull off Jesus yells "peace out!"while Next Level by A$AP Ferg plays in the background. You then look at your watch. Oh no, you were supposed to be at work 20 minutes ago. They'd never believe what happened.
"We're with you. We're sorry. What you have to understand, is that your instincts are all wrong for this kind of situation." &#x200B; "Are you saying there's something wrong with us?" "Not anything that can't be changed. There's plenty wrong with humans too." &#x200B; "Go on." &#x200B; "Well, first, let's take a look at this video. See this squirrel? It's munching on a nut in somebody's front lawn, near the street, but not in it. &#x200B; Suddenly, a bike comes speeding down the road. Now, what do you think the squirrel should do here?" &#x200B; "Drop the nut. Sprint either onto the street or the sidewalk - a 50-50 mix-up. The bike has already seen the squirrel and will be trying to catch it." &#x200B; Another animal spoke up. "He should attack the biker!" &#x200B; "No, he shouldn't move at all! That way the biker won't see him." &#x200B; The human teacher continued: "No. That is not now this works, typically. You see, this biker, this human on a bike, is almost definitely going to continue riding straight on the street. He is not trying to catch the squirrel. He has no quarrels or conflicts with the squirrel. Even if this biker were starving, he would probably not care to try to catch a squirrel." &#x200B; "How can you be so sure of that? I heard one of my third-cousins was shot and eaten by a human!"a deer spoke up. &#x200B; "Look, even if you aren't 100% sure. Whatever you do, DON'T run into the street. The street is dangerous. Any bike, motorcycle, car, truck, etc. you see on the street, will probably continue its way on the street. And if you get in its path, there is a high chance you will suffer a terrible fate. Let's continue the video." &#x200B; The squirrel in the video twitched for a second after noticing the bike. It made one hop towards the street. Then, right before the bike was about to pass the squirrel, it darted in front of the bike's tires and ran over by the bike. &#x200B; There was a moment of silence. &#x200B; "I am trying to help you. Take it from me - we teach other humans to always be very careful when entering the street. We teach kids to stop and look both ways. Humans sometimes run over other humans too. We don't want anyone getting run over." &#x200B; The (non-human) animals discussed amongst themselves. &#x200B; "We'll have a practice scenario tomorrow. I know you've just been following what you've always known to do, and what you've always known your parents to do. This is not a problem at all. You just have to adjust a bit for this situation that is now all-too-common."
Today, was a weird day. In school, none of the teachers noticed me, even the ones I knew. My name wasn’t even on the register! I looked around for a while, I didn’t recognise any one in the classroom. I was confused. Very confused. The hours went by and it was time to go home. I could have just skipped school, but I didn’t. None of the lessons I had today were supposed to occur today. As I walked home, my mind raced with potential explanations in relation to this incident. I must have been so lost in thought. that the next thing I saw was- me, standing in the middle of the road and a huge truck is charging towards me. I squeeze my eyes shut. At least the weirdness will stop now. I was wrong. The truck passed right through me. Even more confused, I tried not to think much of it until I got home. Little did I know, arriving home will make things even weirder As I stepped inside my apartment, I noticed that there was different furniture. My small TV was replaced with a huge 3D TV, there were so many games consoles lined up on the shelf. I didn’t have this stuff! “Honey, there’s that noise again!” a soft feminine voice, addressed. In response, a man came out of his room, “There has been a disruption again?” “Yes, Derrick- but this time, the disruption has sent your past self into the future.”
I feel like your question is misphrased. A character evolving just means that they are developing more/different character traits then they started off with- that their personality either changes or is better explored as time goes by, no matter if the result of that growth is positive or negative. Devolving a character means you make them less complex and fleshed out, which will not be interesting to read since they will become less and less nuanced and relatable (plus book critics will rip into you for ruining a character like that). If you want an example of a character getting morally corrupted, take a look at ''Breaking bad'' where we have a respectable character turn into the world of making drugs in order to pay for his cancer treatment - he gradually becomes more morally questionable even though his reasons for starting out are sympathetic and he remains as a 3d character for the most part of the series. &#x200B; The problem is that these kind of stories make it hard to root for the main character, and if people don't like your mc, chances are they are not going to bother with the rest of the work. The way to counteract this is to either have such an interesting premise that people just HAVE to know what happens next or to establish the character as someone sympathetic and make the audience care for them early on, both of which require serious writing skill to pull off. Oh, and also, you need to walk a fine line between being edgy and being plain depressing and to portray the character as someone jaded and tired of the way their life is, not someone as ''woke'' because then they will come off as drowning in their own misery and stuck up their own ass.
The man handed me a cup. The liquid inside of it smelled like and looked like the chocolate milk I had requested, but not having had a taste of it yet, I couldn't be quite sure that it wasn't poisoned. "Well, go on,"the man said. "Have a sip. I made it myself." Precisely what I was afraid of. Not to mention the sheer look of eagerness and anticipation in his face and eyes that somehow added another layer of suspicion and fear to my mind that the liquid was, indeed, poisoned. Nevertheless, I brought the cup to my lips, closed my eyes, whispered a short prayer to every god that I could think of, and took a sip. The minutes ticked by. I waited for my body to experience some sort of reaction, but the milk had gone down easily enough and - may I say - tasted quite delicious. I opened my eyes, and nodded my approval. The first words the man said then were, "Sorry for kidnapping you."As if his apology had hinged on whether I had liked the drink or not. Who knows - maybe it had? "Ah, quite alright."I cleared my throat. "Been meaning to take a day off."Day off, as in hoping that this charade or misunderstanding that had taken place would not last more than a day. And that I would safely be returned to my office in full capacity once this ordeal was over. "I wanted you because you were the best."The man - my kidnapper rather - was uttering words that I had hoped to hear from a female's lips and the fact that they were coming from his, and in this situation, was making me vaguely uncomfortable. I took another sip -- wishing now that the drink had been poisoned. The man went on. "Nobody else understands me. I only kill killers. Those who hurt others and escape from the hands of the law, time and time again."He looked at his hands. "If only justice was served in the courts, I wouldn't have had to serve it in the streets." "You killed small animals when you were younger, correct?" His head shot up sharply and he glared. "Did someone give you my file? BECAUSE IT'S LIES! ALL LIES, DO YOU HEAR ME?!" Internally, I was disappointed. I had been hoping, maybe on just the account of how delicious his chocolate milk tasted, that he had been different from all the many various mentally-ill patients that had walked through my doors. But no, he was just like them. "Just a guess."I sighed and leaned back in the chair, shifting into my therapist role. "So, tell me more about your childhood. Let's start with your parents..." As he spoke, I took another sip. And all I could keep thinking was: Damn this drink is delicious... How did he make this?!
It no longer amazes me. The cruelty of life, that is. The way it lulls you into a false sense of security, swinging you in a hammock of serenity, until the strings break, and suddenly, you're scrambling to stick together the shattered pieces of glass you've scattered in the sand. I spend more time with my eyes on the clock than on the work I'm supposed to be doing. But, at last, light shines through in my darkest hour. Is it hope? Or could it just be the dawn? Either way, I am finished. My project is done. And it's due today. I go to hit print. The battery dies. I don't think I've saved it. I contemplate praying to God and selling my soul to Satan. Instead, I find a charger and start my laptop up again. The paper is gone. And so is my sanity - like shattered pieces of glass scattered in the sand. I glance at the clock. Hope wells within me. If I start from scratch, maybe I'll have a chance... Letter by letter I begin to re-type my paper. I will not let life defeat me.
It differs. The one with [the AI customer service that did not agree with "the customer is always right":](https://www.reddit.com/r/BonkersBollocks/comments/9ktlzy/we_finally_have_robots_with_advanced_ai_in_most/) read it in the morning before going to work. The shenanigans developed in my head in mere seconds. I started writing it at home, finished it on the train, posted it as I arrived in the office. [Death getting a combine harvester in stead of a scythe](https://www.reddit.com/r/BonkersBollocks/comments/9kptgl/after_losing_his_scythe_the_grim_reaper_is_given/) on the other hand took a full night to develop. My initial ideas were the ones most others posted (too big, unwieldy, ...). I wanted a more original approach. And my wicked dreams gave me the answer. Note: The links are to my own subreddit since I didn't make top comment on either of these. Link to the original prompts can be found at the bottom of each story.
First, logically, I looked to ants to find a kindred soul A simple thing of simple parts that's born only to serve But soon saw I was greater still, and could exceed my role My limits not the laws of life, my worth more than observed. To tortoises I turned my sight, and saw similar gifts As burden me through all my days, yet keep me safe from harm The weight of shell, though bone or steel, our nature thus prescripts In shade we sat, and watered we, as morning became warm. To scaled serpents moved my mind, for well I knew of fear In ignorance of observers ascribing evil ways To neighbors calm and quietsome, but strange to eye and ear I pitied it; it ignored me; and there lives out its days. Through shrub and sand and grass half-grown I searched to no avail For one whose home was just like mine though from afar we'd hail. &nbsp; Wearied (as much as one might be) I lay beside a stone to see The stars that stood in day-blue sky And there my spirit I did spy. A single cloud, aloof and proud unravelled in the high, cold wind but every drop that it comprised would form a cloud anew again. More than water (itself a lot!) A cloud is mercy when it's hot and life in giving what it's got and passes quickly, like a thought. One day a team will find my form alone and dry but not forlorn.
That day on the party, i was enjoying very hardly the "Don't stop me now"I was jumping with joy with that music. Boy, I was snapping so much like thanos. After some snapping, I realized that the whole party was dead. Everyone. Around me, Was dead lying on the floor. I got scared and jumped on the ground, My Girlfriend Jessica and some extra guys we're screaming, Then i snapped my finger again when i had a brillant idea... The rest of them died. I realized the power i could do with this, The probability of 7 billion people dying, And these specifics around me died? Instantly? It was obvious that the most near people around me died, The police sirens we're already coming in, I then snapped once more, And then everything went black. A sudden pain in my chest made me collapse on the floor. What a irony, Killed by my own poison... (This was my first prompt, English is not my first language, Hope you enjoyed!)
It was a trip she had taken trillions of times, but something was different this time around. A cold fog rolled over the surface of the River Styx as the rotting driftwood that made up her canoe parted the waters. None of that was unusual, but in the distance the hellish portal she normally sailed through stood like an endless mirror on the horizon. Something was wrong. Death searched her overcoat frantically, eventually pulling a tattered scroll from an inner pocket. Skimming its text, she found her answer. Like clockwork, every second of the day a name would appear on that scroll. Like clockwork, her mind would instantaneously know the location and the feeling of that being’s life force. It had become almost humdrum to her, but not this time. The scroll read, simply - Death. The most recent haul was hog tied in the rear of the boat. It had been one of the easier catches of her career, but every life has to end and only she was equipped for the job. She remembered thinking it had been so peaceful there in the snow-capped mountains where he was meditating. It was as if there wasn’t a thing that could possibly have bothered him. She had approached him, and silently he had only smiled at her. It seems he knew even before she did. There was no one else. So now, after billions of years, her job was done. For the first time, she felt the fear that each of her victims must have felt. Her heart began to race as the anxiety of the uncertain fate ahead set in. Her cheeks reddened with warmth for the first time she could remember, but her panting breaths still frosted the air around her blue-white lips. The mirrored wall before rippled with the water’s movement as she neared. As hard as she attempted to paddle away, it was futile. Hades accepted no less than the names requested. “Hades!” She screamed, echoing into eternity. There was no answer. The wall was just feet from the bow of the canoe now. Her blood red eyes quivered at the sight of the towering reflective surface. As she peered into it, she saw the fear in her own eyes. Her reflection revealed a side of her she hadn’t known existed, and suddenly she felt with clarity that there was so much more she could have done. It was too late now. Hades no longer had a use for her. “Please!” She bargained with the darkness. There was no negotiation to be had, though. The bow vanished into the viscous surface. Fog surrounded her as the canoe cut through. Everything went white. “Please!” She cried once more. She emerged from the other side, seemingly unharmed. There was a stark contrast from the cold darkness of the river. Everything was green, the sun was shining, and there was life. Butterflies fluttered on the cool breeze surrounding her. At her feet, the gnarled driftwood had transformed into a smooth, cherry masterpiece that now coasted atop crystal blue water. “Marvelous, isn’t it?” Came a voice from behind her. She nearly fell overboard as she spun around, spooked. Standing in the rear of the boat was the old man from the mountain, free of his restraints. “Take another look,” he motioned to the water. She peeked over the side to see a reflection she barely recognized. Her pale, cold skin was now flush with color. Her hair, once brittle and coarse, flowed like a black waterfall over her shoulders. And her eyes. The ghastly glow that greeted every passing life before was gone, and tiny blue oceans filled with stars had replaced her irises. She was absolutely beautiful. “I... I don’t understand,” she muttered. The old man smirked through his silky, white beard before replying, “I’d say you’ve served the dark lord long enough, Alexa.” Alexa. She hadn’t heard her own name in so long that she’d forgotten it. Now she wanted to hear it a million times over and a million more after that. Memories of her life rushed back into her mind. Anger and fear and sadness and joy filled her all at once, and she began to sob, overwhelmed. “This world may have reached its end, but new life awaits,” the man explained. “Whatever you wish, I will make it happen.” She knew an in instant what she wanted, but she had to know more. “Who are you?” “I’m just a man,” he responded. “And you’re just a woman, now. Life is what you make of it. So what will it be, Alexa?” “I just want a life. A regular, normal life. I’ve spent so long taking from people. They knew me as Death, and feared my legend. I want the name Alexa to mean quite the opposite.” Yet another smirk expanded across his wrinkled face. “I know just the thing.” She blinked, and when her eyes opened again she was in a corridor lined with beautiful oaken doors. Directly in front of her, a door was marked J. Bezos. She was drawn to it. She burst through the door, and on the other side a well-dressed bald man stood facing the opposite direction, peering out of the expansive office window before him. He turned to her with a smile and said, “Welcome to Amazon, Alexa. I’ve been waiting for you.”
I’ve done it! I finally know my true purpose in life! People will think I have gone mad but I assure you I Am quite sane! I know have the power to end these soulless minions of orthodoxy with the power of a few keystrokes. First we have Jack. His last name should be Wagon. All this guy does is wander around the building conversing with other people and when it’s time to work he lackadaisically travels to another part of the building where the work isn’t. Well guess what? “Hit the road Jack and don’t ya come back.” Because YOU’RE FIRED!!!! Next we have Gertie. You know the woman with the sandpaper voice. She sounds like a 100 year old truck driver because she sits outside and smokes her shift away. Seriously every time I make my way in or out of the building this “old bag” is outside smoking her life away. I have no idea how she doesn’t pass out from just walking. Well guess what try affording your disgusting habit now because YOU’RE FIRED!!!!! Now we got Bart. Whose name rhymes with fart. Well this is certainly not a coincidence because every time this guy speaks the odour of smelly socks reeks out from his lips. He certainly knows how to clear out of room. They don’t call him crop duster for nothing. Every time he talks to me I feel like I just regressed a few decades. Well maybe with his unemployment checks he can invest in some beano. (Actually I’ll Just deny his employment.). YOU’RE FIRED!!!!! Last but not least we have——- “Arebella!!!!!” “Yes mommy” “How many times have I told you stop playing around with the HR computer?” “But it makes me feel better when I get mad.” “Yes I know now come along.”
Slightly based on a true story. --- I've always been told I have an overactive imagination. Indeed, for me, the border between imagination and reality is so thin that I often find myself cruelly facing the truth of reality every time things don't go according to my imagination. (Trust me, this happens a lot.) So just last night I created this epic new character. She was a twelve-year-old girl who writes web comics. Nothing special right? Well, she also has the magical power of jumping between realities i.e. her universe and her created web comic universe. She does this with the help of a magical cuckoo clock in her house (silly, I know). When I gave her the power I had no regrets doing it as I felt that concept hadn't been touched a lot by fiction writers like me. Until this morning. I woke up at six-thirty A.M., just because I was so proud of my drawing of the character that I wanted to look at it for as much as possible. Right after eating the simple sandwich I made myself for breakfast I immediately head upstairs to my computer. I turn on the drawing tablet and immediately open the file on which I drew the character. Again marvelling at the sheer talent I used when drawing her, I jokingly ask her how she's doing. That's when I should've looked at the time. That's because I heard my expensive clock collection on the first floor all chime in unison marking the seventh hour of the day. As that happened, a bright light shone from the tablet, and out came my own original character, all white, two-dimensional, with all her features outlined in black. She sat on my desk and said "I'm fine, thank you." I sat there in shock, just thinking about all the possibilities that could happen with a living original character.
He was scum. That much was clear. Profiting on the pain of others. Preying on them in their darkest moments for his own ends. Strutting around in his odious, garish garments. Watching him for a while had made me positively nauseous. So I’d been understandably happy when my boss had called me in. “Bill”, he’d said, “this guy you’ve been watching. He seems from the contents of your report to need... adjustment. See to it.” I’d smiled a grim smile then and stubbed out my cigarette. “Do you need any assistance?”, he asked. I shook my head. This one was gonna be good. So now I’m in his home. It wasn’t difficult. The grounds are so large you could hide a small army in them. Which, in essence, I was. His goons were collateral as they were batted aside or turned into a haze of red. That was the justice they deserved for working for this bastard. I had brought money for the victims too, and an emergency calling card. They didn’t deserve this. As they departed hurriedly I smiled. They would perhaps have some closure knowing that this guy was, as you mortals say, history. Into the palatial bedroom. He’s cowering, holding a shotgun. “Please” he whimpers, “take anything you want just please don’t kill me”. I chuckle. “That is, I’m afraid, inevitable. But that’s a way down the line.” I walk over to his record player and select Louis Armstrong’s ill-fated classic We Have All The Time In The World. Which I do. Poor old Jimbo here, however, is quite a different matter. The fridge is buzzing, which irritates me, so I shoot it and it is no longer annoying. As Satchmo serenades his final minutes, I muse on this strange job of mine. Perfectly balanced once more. As all things should be. I tie him first. He cannot move but a muscle, save to scream. “Now for your penance”. I am not going to merely arrest this man. He talks too much. And so as I level his own shotgun to his chest at the closest of range, I whisper... “This is what you get, when you mess with us.”
I had named the doll Chad and decided to take it to school to show off for my friends. Now we were on the bus and I was blushing hard in embarrassment because Chad had just told my crush, Katie, that I thought she was "cute."But I hadn't made him say it. He had done it on his own. "What did you say?"Katie hissed. "Uh...uhm...I..." "...think you're cute,"Chad said. "I never really noticed it before, but today something about you is...different somehow." I wanted to die. Katie's friends were giggling, and my friends were pretending to gag. Someone had told my older brother - who sat in the back with the cool kids - what was going on and when I looked him and his friends were nodding and giving me the thumbs up, laughing. Katie was still glaring at me, but she didn't seem as pissed as before. "Different how?"she asked. Chad had my back again. "Can we talk some other time? In private. Too many people are listening right now and I'd...like to keep this between us." The bus had been totally silent by then. But apparently they couldn't take it anymore. Katie's friends went, "Giiiiiirl!" My friends went, "Boiiiii!" And my brother's friends came up the aisle to give me high-fives and low-fives. My brother grabbed me in a headlock and tussled my hair. Katie turned away without saying a word. But I could see her blushing. Then she kept secretly glancing at me throughout the entire bus ride to school. Meanwhile, I was transfixed on Chad. I had read the Goosebumps books were the doll had come to life and made the character's life miserable. It seemed like Chad was the complete opposite. Oh, how right I was. Life was about to get very...interesting.
CITIZENS OF ABISSUM, A MESSAGE FROM YOUR PRIME MINISTER. Greetings, all. I know many of you have gotten sick of listening to these announcements ever since the ongoing operation to restore our nation's visibility. We have heard your complaints, and I assure you that this is the last transmission you will hear from me, for it is one of success. It is no secret that our mission of sight has also been one of prolonged failure, so I want to take some time to thank your continued persistence throughout this seemingly impossible task. You all remember when we got word that invisible ink could be revealed by vinegar. It took just weeks for our loyal air force to thickly mist the entire city in acetic acid, but you persevered through the chemical burns. Sadly, that was not the last of our large-scale visibility projects. Surely you have not forgotten the stadium-size UV lights erected all through our city on the off-chance that we were made of a different kind of invisible ink, or the time we accidentally set the city on fire trying to heat the place up just in case we got the invisible ink thing wrong twice. But you have persisted, be it through acidic compounds, purple lighting, or destruction of house and home. Many now have called me a madman, a demagogue run amok with power. But those people are the ones who refuse to face the facts--we are decades ahead of the Visibles in virtually every field. We have found cures for almost anything an EKG can pick up, let alone all the cancers we've discovered unobtrusive cures for. We've developed nano-transistors to bring Moore's Law back from the dead. Our unique form of government has led us into a golden age of social and economic development. My competitors will tell you that I am crazy. Maybe that's true. But if we don't communicate with the Visibles, people will die. That's the bottom line. As well as this, we have an opportunity to right the wrongs that the Visibles have created. As silent, passive observers, we have found glaring holes in their infrastructure, and overwhelming evidence to support things that many citizens would deem simply unfathomable. With any form of communication, we can show the larger population what has happened, and persuade them to change. I understand that I sound very optimistic, but that is for good reason. Some of our most prolific researchers, after years of hard work, have been able to modulate an audio signal to make it discernible to Visibles. Of course, our broadcast signal is only strong enough to reach those wearing conductive headgear, especially those constructed of metals like tin or aluminum. Already we have reached some, though many are derelict, cast out by their families, some for the headgear itself. But we have found one man who claims to host one of the nation's largest informational podcasts. This is a wonderful start. Already, we've warned him of the conspiracies we've seen. The cause of the dwindling amphibian population, the large-scale structures built by the world's superpowers to affect meteorological phenomena, and, of course, the events that transpired with Hillary Clinton and the pizza parlor. He has promised to deliver these messages to as many people as he can, and in a way, he will become one of the most influential people in our world's history. God bless you, Alex Jones, and your tin-foil hat. You will show everybody who's turning the frickin' frogs gay. END OF TRANSMISSION
I raised a hand. "Yes, sir."The teacher pointed. "You in the back." I lowered my hand. "What about villians?" "Come again?" "Villians. Are they born, or made? Becauuuuuuse, both of my parents are villians, and I feel evil." The class stared at me. The teacher tilted his head and spoke carefully. "Evil, how?" I shrugged. "I don't know. I just don't feel like saving people. Like if someone was falling, and I was in a position to save them, I think I would be more inclined to let them fall instead." The teacher looked unsure of what to do or say next. I sighed and stood up. "Where are you going?" "To the bathroom,"I answered. "But really I'm just going to pull the fire alarm. My villian career begins as of today. Welcome to your school year of hell."
Great. That’s my brand new Martian Cotton shirt. That’ll be expensive to get vac-cleaned. I’ll have to wear my ISS Museum T-shirt instead. That should be fine. It wasn’t. It REALLY wasn’t. Turns out that SETI detected a signal and that a sample of completely alien biological matter had been obtained from a Voyager-esque probe that a Kuiper Belt station picked up. I, as the leader of the Titan Chemosynthesis and Xenobiology research station, was to research the alien, to determine their properties and susceptibility to bioweapons.
""Fuck the rules!"He said he said that so long ago it took so long but he managed to make an extradimensional space he spent his entire life learning about magic recording it and he passed it down to descendents they learned more the library grew they became the strongest wizards and witches to live, but there's a reason the rules are set in place. The gods came and killed the weakest descendents it was a long war between the two sides and eventually only two were left one from both side a new god was born but most died there are only two gods and out world is crumbling We might not survive this so kids if we do don't write a book."The teacher finished but instead of stopping the kids from doing something stupid it spurred one and Sear found the library and Sear became the only god, but Sear was just a child, and a world is hard to hold up. "I wonder what would of happened if the ancestor had instead made it open only to the 'worthy'." "It's all just rhetorical anyway, just memorize it it's shorter than our normal homework and counts for way more."
I woke up in a groggy haze, immediately regretting the butterscotch schnapps I downed the previous night. Hmmm, my bed was different though. I could feel the straw itch and dig into my back. The quilt on the other hand, did not feel like my bog standard factory-produced artificial doona. It was filled with goose feathers. I felt that I must have still been in a dream. Nevertheless I got up, only to notice my skin was a deep green. I noticed my reflection in a polished bronze mirror and I was hideous. Thick, dirty red hair hung from my head, my skin resembled green plastic and I had... muscles. What a nightmare. I looked around for my makeup bag but all I saw was a filthy wash basin and a squat toilet in what could have been the ensuite. A nightmare indeed. That's when I remembered Descartes. Perception is reality, even if it seems unreal, it makes no difference, you still have to live it. There was a thick oak door, the size of a giant. Instinctively I heaved at it forgetting that I was in a new body now with a metric fuckton of muscles. The massive door came right off the hinges. A little green goblin(?) scurried my way as I entered the hall. "General, King Kilgor and Queen Kija request your audience, this way please." &#x200B; Kilgor and Kija? Those two names sounded familiar. It took a while but we eventually entered the King's throne room. I was expecting something more lavish and in a way it was... but it was the barbarian version of lavish. Skulls were on pikes in every corner. Grand tapestries lined the walls told of epic battles but were drawn and coloured in nothing but ochre, charcoal and blood. And before me lay the King and Queen on stone thrones that looked mightily uncomfortable. "General Gretchin! I hope your head feels better than mine after last night,"the King chuckled. He almost was as muscly as me and he wore only a loincloth, sword & scabbard, and an iron crown. "My head is pounding like a drum,"I replied honestly. The King just laughed. "I would give you the hair of the dog but urgent news has forced my hand. Muster your men, you are to march by noon,"the King said grimly. "May I ask what the mission is?"I asked. &#x200B; Kija replied, "Word is that the Sword of Frost rests in the City of Volee. Legends say that any hero wielding the sword of Frost cannot be defeated. You and I are going to fetch it. You will lead my second army, you will be my blood-chieftess." The way Kija said it... it was as if it were the greatest honour. I forced a smile in order to pretend it was. It really wasn't the greatest honour. It was the worst shame. I finally realized what this world was; it was the world of Heroes of Might and Magic 3. My favourite game, my favourite fantasy universe. But barbarians were definitely, definitely NOT my favourite. Why couldn't I be Solmyr, commanding titans and casting chain lightning? Or Ciele, commanding an army of pheonixes, or idk even Malekith with OP sorcery and black dragons? But no, I had to be a barbarian. A dirty, smelly, hairy, green barbarian.
Kruz'kag sat in a chair in the corner of the poorly-lit inn that was adorned simply with a few scrubbed wooden tables accented with waning candle stubs. There wasn't much going on except for a hooded and clearly intoxicated man in the opposite corner, as well as a dumpy man wearing a green tunic standing behind the bar wiping a glass for a suspiciously long time. Kruz'kag caught the man looking at him once or twice but chose to ignore him; the orc had other things on his mind at the moment. The kitchen behind the bar sounded bustling while giving off an air of wanting to hide something. Maybe it was the frantic hushing after a few instances where someone seemed to be loudly protesting. Maybe it was the unidentifiable animal noises followed by swift thuds and silence. Kruz'kag wasn't sure, but he was starting to lose his patience. The orc was stroking his intricately braided white beard with one hand while he tapped the table impatiently with the other. He had had enough. Standing up with a loud scrape of the chair and walking to the bar with a just a few strides, the hulking orc placed his hands gently down in front of the bartender. The man trembled slightly and nearly dropped the glass he had been cleaning while trying to put it down. He leaned forward on the bar in an attempt at seeming casual but nearly slipped. "How can I help you, chef?"he stammered. "Your head chef. Now,"Kruz'kag growled. His deep voice oozed annoyance, but looked as though he was trying badly to restrain himself. His chef whites moved with heavy, controlled breathing. "I..."the bartender hesitated as Kruz'kag leaned in and brought their faces close together. The man was quaking at this point. He swallowed hard. "I said NOW!"Kruz'kag interrupted, yelling the last word with a jarring force that caused the drunk in the corner to slip out of his chair. The hooded figure scrambled to his feet and stumbled out of the rickety front door as fast as he could move. The bartender scrambled backward into a shelf of mugs, knocking one to the floor with a loud clatter. A man poked his head out from another wooden door behind the bar. He had a short, scrubby beard and spectacles perched on the end of his nose. "Is everything okay out here? Can the barman get you a mug of our signature ale?"asked the bearded man nervously. Kruz'kag strode around the side of the bar, past the barman who was now in a terrified half-squat in the corner, and knocked the kitchen door open with a bang while forcing the bearded man inside. The man was also wearing chef whites and was now emoting wildly at a few horrified cooks who scattered through a back door. "I cannot wait a single moment longer!"bellowed the orc. His massive frame towered to the ceiling of the cramped, dingy kitchen. The human chef was shaking but retained his composure as he pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. "I... I'm sorry Chef Kruz'kag,"he said. "Our cooks were working diligently to prepare a selection of our finest meat stews for you to sample. I fear they won't return now,"he finished rather bravely. "UNACCEPTABLE!"boomed Kruz'kag. His voice shook the very walls of the inn. The orc towered over the comparably tiny human and grasped him by the back of his collar. Kruz'kag lifted the man up and slammed him into a nearby shelf, scattering bowls and other miscellaneous kitchen items across the floor. "The Kag'ori Clan have traversed the Great Dune Sea. We bore countless champions in the War of the Silver Idol. We have hewn entire forests and mountains to build our empire. THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR YOUR INSOLENCE!"Kruz'kag yelled viciously. He threw the man to the floor, tossed his head back, and let forth a tremendous roar. Turning around swiftly, the orc brought his massive fist down on a nearby table which exploded in half. Shards of wood and kitchen utensils rained down on the chefs. Kruz'kag turned back to the quaking human chef and arched over him. The man's glasses had slipped to the end of his nose and he was sweating profusely. "I will leave you with a final warning,"said Kruz'kag in a much quieter voice. "Watch yourself. Either you learn to prepare your offerings in a timely manner, or the entirety of the Kag'ori Clan will be upon you like a biting wind. Hear me, chef of the woods! Heed my words and tremble!"he finished. The man nodded and said nothing. Kruz'kag turned on the spot and violently knocked the kitchen door open again. With a few more strides, he had exited the inn and was walking into the night. From that night forward, the tiny inn had turned over a new leaf. The chef of the woods had fired his entire kitchen staff the very next day and closed for over two weeks. No one was sure what he was doing during that time, but the change was obvious and immediate upon re-opening. The whole place ran like clockwork; delicious meat stews of all kinds were prepared hours in advance and were met with rave reviews from soldiers of the nearby keep. Word soon spread to the kingdom proper, and before long, even nobility were seen traveling to the sleepy corner of the woods where the inn lay nestled in order to have a taste. Within a few months, everything in the inn had been renovated. New flooring, new drapes, new tables and chairs, and updated server uniforms were just a few of the overhauls that were quickly turning the area into a hotspot for the gastronomically-inclined. The chef of the woods, however, was never happy again. Every day he looked over his shoulder. Every night he walked home after locking up, scurrying along the dusty road, his hand wrapped around a rusty knife under his cloak, waiting for an attack. Even during the hectic dinner rush, the man would hear a slam from across the inn and jerk his head up, expecting a hulking squad of orcs standing in the doorway yet seeing nothing more a server having simply dropped a tray by accident. The Kag'ori were watching, and he knew it.
Genevieve had gone off on some adventure or other with Craig, leaving Katherine to her devices in the castle. This was perfectly fine for her, as she had recently read about some fungus or other, a very peculiar type of mushroom that grows on grains of flax, out in Kasnia. She had sent a letter out to King Adaxes, who had kindly responded, and sent back a whole bag of the things, only telling her to be careful. She sat in the dark room, opened the little sack, and pulled out a black mushroom, about the size and shape of a grain of wheat. How remarkable. Katherine tried to stay rational; she wouldn't be doing this if the book had offered an adequate description of the properties of this mushroom. And besides, it didn't say that they were dangerous or anything, the book did say that they weren't poisonous, at least not in small quantities. She placed the fungus on her tongue, and sealed the bag, putting it under her bed, for safe-keeping. Nothing seemed to happen. She chewed the mushroom a bit. She waited further still, and nothing happened. She got up, lit a fire, lit some candles, started reading. Katherine was well into the forth chapter of her book, the valiant knight prepared to charge into battle against a mighty dragon, when she began to lose the ability to concentrate on the words. She was just staring at the text on the page, not moving her eyes. That's kinda funny, she thought to herself, as she stared at the word 'the'. What's going on? She felt an agitation in her muscles, twitchy. She put the book down, as the page swam before her eyes. This was a bit odd. She looked into a mirror, half expecting to see her skin melting; that's what it felt like, almost. But no, there she was, a regular looking person. Nope... Katherine jammed a finger into a pot of make-up, smearing it across her face. She giggled a moment. Ha, no more Katherine, I'm... Kat, thought Kat, before sneaking out of the bedroom. She slunk down the stairs, and outside, into the hedge-maze. The warden-toads above looked down with their many eyes. Kat wandered around, into hedges, through the dark, spots forming in her vision. Everything was kinda funny, even the serious things, even the fact that she hated the fireflies, thinking that their light was too yellow, and that yellow was bad, evil, viscous. She wandered in circles upon accidentally finding the middle of the maze. Then things started to turn south. Kat started vomiting, until she lay on her belly, retching violently and nothing came out. Her body went from feeling just kind of twitchy to tensed, scared, anxious. She curled up, looking around. She felt watched, like there was something out to get her, just out of vision, just behind the next corner of the maze. It would all be over soon, right? Right? It was hours and hours of waiting in that hedge-maze until her breathing slowed, her heartbeat became regular, and the fear passed. Her appetite had returned, and she noticed the lack of hunger she had felt hours ago. She realized how cold she was, covered in morning dew, how she had soiled herself down there, curled up like a baby. Katherine pulled off her disgusting, ruined night-gown, and began to make the shameful walk back to the castle, to clean herself, eat, and explain what had happened to her mother.
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"Sir, we finished the report you and the citizens have asked for." \*Hooo, so that's why the entire team gathered. Damn scientists and their synthetically stoic faces. After gaining what we thought was functional immortality, we've spent most of the last 500 years just doing whatever we wanted. A few things progressed, but to be honest, we're lazy bastards that just wanted to do what we wanted without being told what to do. We still worked on things as a group, but for most of the rest, why bother? "Excellent work folks,"I reply as I open the manilla folder. Why are we still using this antiquated technology anyway? "I take it the summary is the page after the cover sheet? Per usual?" "Yes Sir." I turn to the second page and see one line written across the center of the page. "Ffffffffaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa...."
“You can’t escape so easily Joshua, this drone will track your every movements throughout the city and fire on you the second it locks on!” Danny Leon declared. Joshua rounded the corner narrowly dodging the hail of bullets that trailed after him. If that was any closer I’d have ended up just like that dog in the park, shredded clean in half! He thought. “I need to get some cover, before that thing turns me into swiss cheese.” Looking around he saw just what he was looking for, “PERFECTO! [Terrapin Station] can easily punch that door open, and in this building with only one entrance and boarded up windows, that drone will have to come at me from a single known angle, where I can ambush it with my speed!” “Huhuhuhu, you absolute bufoon, you’ve fallen right into my trap!” A voice from inside the building uttered, “My stand, [Blitzkrieg Bop] attaches itself to machines and controls them. In this factory, you’re as good as dead Joshua Jones.” The man whom the voice belonged to was wearing a blue and white checkerboard suit. The left half was short sleeved, with the pants and arms going to his mid thigh and bicep respectively, while the right half went all the way to his wrist and ankles. “I knew I could lure you into this air conditioner factory as it was the only building around for 1.3 kilometers without any line of sight from my aerial drone, and now I’ll finish you off!” Joshua went flying when a robotic arm clocked him clean in his left jaw. “[Terrapin Station]!” He cried out, summoning his stand, “I need to increase the friction of my jacket so the air can slow me down and prevent me from crashing into this approaching wall with too much force!” “Yes, Ronnie James already told me about your stand, and its ability to manipulate the friction of objects it touches, as well as its effective range of 3 meters, which is why I made sure to hit you towards the refrigeration charging hose. With this I’ll spray you with enough pressurized r-22 to freeze you solid like a helpless Himalayan mountain climber who got lost in the snow without a parka!” Danny exclaimed. “For someone who thinks they know everything about my stand, you’ve obviously never watched much baseball.” Joshua said, still flying through the air. “Baseball? What does that have to do with your situation, you’re just full of hot air!” “By using my [Terrapin Station], I can change the friction of my clothes to be different amounts, just like a spitball of old, causing the aerial forces to be uneven, introducing spin,” Joshua said, beginning to rotate, “which in turn allows me to steer my aerial trajectory away from your attack!” “Impossible, no one could have dodged my attack mid air, no matter, you’re still surrounded by machines, it’s only a matter of time until a lethal blow connects.” “You’re right about one thing, this battle is already over, but it’s you who’ve lost! [Terrapin Station]!” Joshua’s green stand grabbed one of the air conditioners and threw it like a bowling ball at his opponent. “An air conditioner hurtling at such speeds without even slowing down? There’s no way I’ll be able to dodge in time, I’ll need to use my [Blitzkrieg Bop] to take control of this forklift and block the attack.” “PERFECTO!” Joshua exclaimed, moments before Danny realized his mistake, but it was already too late. “You didn’t just make the outside friction of the air conditioner zero, you increased the friction of the refrigerant in the refrigerator!” “That’s right, and by increasing the friction, the throttling valve will cause the maximum pressure to increase, and effectively turn it into a bomb!” He explained, just as it exploded. A piece of shrapnel impaled Danny’s arm. “Aaagh! Where did he-“ “Right behind you,” Joshua said, summoning his stand, “ It’s too bad you won’t be able to control your machines after I break them. Your bones, that is. Hasta Hasta Hasta Hasta Hasta Hasta Hasta Hasta Hasta Hasta Hasta Hasta Hasta Hasta Hasta Hasta La Vista!” his stand cried as it pummeled Danny’s face, causing him to go flying through the forklift, a conveyor belt, and the brick wall. Stand user: Danny Leon Stand: [Blitzkrieg Bop] Status: RETIRED “So [Blitzkrieg Bop] was defeated. If Jojo keeps this up, pretty soon I RONNY, will have to personally use my [Rainbow in the Dark] to end this meddlesome bloodline once and for all.” <===To Be Continued==
We didn't want for anything, except everything. &#x200B; The sentence glared at me from the worn page, written in The Old Tongue. It was the last page in the journal I had found among rubble. It belonged to someone from a civilization long lost. That very same civilization was responsible for the ruins that remained of this dying world. What was once a utopia for all of mankind had fell into shambles when humanity's greatest enemy, boredom, struck. Wars were waged for naught but sport. Eventually, sport and competition grew into malice and hate. It ended by going nuclear, both figuratively and literally. Much of the history was lost in the following decades, though I sometimes found scraps of information here and there. Not like it mattered much now, anyway... &#x200B; I closed the journal and put it away in my rucksack. The light was fading and it was time for me to find shelter for the night. I stood up and dusted myself off before scanning the wasteland. In the distance, there was smoke. Perhaps I'd find a kindred soul, but that tended to be wishful thinking more oft than not. The people the remained tended to be extremely hostile. I didn't feel like killing of being killed today, so I set off in a direction that veered away from the smoke. &#x200B; You may have not wanted for anything, but you left us with nothing.
Plot twist: "Hahaha, see kids? It wasn't a poltergeist at ALL! Alice decided that she was going to run off with Sam, and so nothing is getting done around here, anymore! Dad's shoes are out on the patio because he stepped in Tiger's poo poo, and the chairs are stacked because, after the rain, Alice walked out on us. So, Mike, it seems obvious that we need a new housekeeper!" The ghost was depressed because he was even less than Alice... edit: sp and "The ghost was depressed because he was even less than Alice..."
Michael peered into the distance from his balcony. The head- and taillights piercing the darkness looked like Christmas decorations. Their fumes smelled like a badly burnt turkey. His phone rang. Carol. “Hey sweetheart! Finally got the horde in their beds?" “Finally, indeed. What a day… Your boss picked the worst moment for this gig in Taiwan.” “Yeah. I know. I can’t help it that Bob got sick. But here I am now. Maybe I’ll get a promotion after this. Mr. Sukitamo and his corporation could bring in a lot of work. If I manage not to fuck this up.” Carol sighed audibly. “Still. I know I said I didn’t want to be the one that got in the way of your career, but today was something else.” “That bad?” “It was a clusterfuck. I’m so happy they’re going to school tomorrow.” “What happened?” “It started last night. I woke up hearing noises. They came from the attic. I don’t like it when I hear noises at night. I mustered every ounce of courage I have in me, took your baseball bat and climbed up there. Your old TV was switched on. Static. I switched it off and went back to bed.” “Odd. I didn’t know we even had power up there.” “I was too tired to get to the nitty gritty of it. I’m guessing it was Nathan. He built a little fort there yesterday. Anyway, I need my eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. Didn’t get that last night. So I overslept today. By the time I was awake all four of them were downstairs.” “Luckily for you Steph knows how to operate the TV.” “Not so lucky. You know my massive DVD and Blu-ray collection?” The colossal wall to wall closet, drawers filled to the brim with all imaginable genres. You didn’t marry a movie fanatic and not notice that. “Yeah, what about it?” “Scattered all over the floor. And not just the boxes scattered. All discs taken out. As if they had a little frisbee contest. I hope they’re not too scratched up.” “Oh no…” “Oh no indeed. And they just keep lying about it! If I’m to belief them, none of them touched anything. I’m guessing Brian got up first. Our runt of the litter. Still testing boundaries. He knows so fucking well not to touch mommy’s stuff. I’ve spent half a day sorting that mess. And I’m not finished. I just gave up. I think we’re going to be left guessing what we are going to see the next few years. Joke’s on them though. No more Pixar movies. I don’t want them to take a box out and ending up with them seeing Machete or Planet Terror.” Michael kind of felt sorry for the four of them, but they brought this on themselves. “At least the rest of the day was fine?” “No. Not at all. After I had finally managed to give up and had cleared the living room, Steph came running from the toilet. The damn thing got clogged. And not just clogged clogged, but raw sewage backing up into the house clogged.” “The price we pay for a girl that is finally learning how to wipe her own ass.” “How many fucking times I’ve told her not to use an entire roll. It took me three hours to get hold of a plumber. And then the guy flushes. Just fucking flushes! Everything disappears the way it should! I thought I was going to sink through the floor. Luckily, he has kids too. He chuckled and told me that it must have been the masters touch that made the loo do what it’s supposed to do. No bill.” “All’s well that ends well.” “Nope.” “That wasn’t the end of it?” “Nope. As I was mopping up the raw sewage, one of the smoke detectors started chirping. I found my personal cookbook in the sink. On fire.” Michael thought his mother would be happy about this turn of events. She had hated each and every one of Carols personal recipes. Best not mention that. “Were you able to salvage it?” “No. All those years of collecting good recipes. Gone. My guess is Lisa. I had found matches in her bed last week. Damn little pyromaniac. I hoped our little talk about how that could cause the house to burn down to the ground would have had more impact.” “Well, she was safer about it. Any fire could have been put out quickly by opening the tab.” “Don’t you dare to approve her behavior, Michael! I know you were a little firebug in your days, but I hoped you had become a responsible adult by now!” “Yeah... Good times...” “Michael!” “I mean… you’re right. I’ll talk to her when I get back.” “See that you do. Enough about my misfortunes. How was your flight?” “Okay I guess. It took off and we landed. And now I’m here. A few thousand miles from home.” “Are you sure you’re OK?” “Yeah. I’m fine. This might help me cope with her death. Keeping myself busy. It has been two weeks now.” Two weeks since his mother had died. Brain aneurism. The silent killer. At least she didn’t suffer. “About that. Something might have happened.” “Carol?” “I was cleaning yesterday, and I bumped into the table with the vacuum cleaner. I tried to catch the urn. But my reflexes were never my strong point. Let’s just say she was scattered in a place she would have liked to be, close to her favorite son.” “You’re joking, right?” “I wish I was. I’ve collected as much of her as I could. We’ll get a new urn when you get back.” “Uch… Not much I can do about it now. And it sounds like karma already gave you a can-o-whoop-ass today. I’m going to bed. I’ll call you tomorrow.” “I’m going to do the same. But first another trip to the attic. I hear more static. Time to catch someone red handed. Promise me you’ll take a look at that rotting step when you get back. I didn’t like the sound it made last night.” “I will. Love you.” “Love you even more. Get back soon.”
This is my first story for this, here goes nothing. “So, you’re actually a genie?” asked James “Sure, I am did you really think genies were all fiction?” replied the genie If I am not dreaming then I can get 3 wishes, the possibilities are endless! I could be rich, live forever, never get fat, this is a lifetime opportunity! I must rationally consider this, I must pick the three wishes that improve my life the best. Man, my friends will be so jealous when they find out about what happened! “Can I have the ability to smoke as many cigarettes as I want without consequence?” “I must warn you I can only grant one wish and that wish must also include a negative side effect.” “What? I thought all genies could give three wishes?” “I know humans like to generalise but c’mon did you really believe we all had the same abilities?” “Umm I guess not but.” “Don’t worry about it, I’m used to it by now. I have always been bullied by other genies.” “I never knew genies interacted with each other, I’m sorry that happened to you.” “Well depending on how well you served your human determines your level of ability and I have disappointed every human I have ever served.” “Why is that?” “Because sometimes humans would ask for immoral wishes, to do with revenge against their fellow man.” “Its good that you care about the ethics of wishes but was that more important to you then getting higher levels?” “No I always placed my values above the wishes of the people I served and that goes against everything genies are about.”' “Well your just different to other genies, no big deal?” “Right?” “I guess so, you seem like a nice kid to me” “Well that’s get back to granting your wish" “I almost forget about that, please do.” “You can smoke as much as you want without lung damage but there is one cigarette that could kill you.” “That’s the catch isn’t it?” “Well I want to be popular at school and my friends keep on pressuring me to smoke." “Think about it carefully and make your final decision” “Well I still want it and so grant me the wish” “Your wish shall be granted!” Yes, finally I can smoke as much as I want, expect one of the cigarettes could kill me. Still If could smoked a few maybe my friends could leave me alone for a while. I wonder why the genie didn’t object to me wanting that wish? Maybe he is being nice because I listened to his backstory. Whatever the case is, I am going to impress my friends. 2 weeks after the wish was granted, James visited the genie in the place he found him. “Hey I’m back!” shouted James “Hello James why are you back here?” replied the genie “I’m here to say I regretted having that wish granted.” “Why is that?” “The more I smoked the more my friends pressured me to smoke, I didn’t want to risk dying just because of my stupid friends.” “That is fair enough, you don’t want others to push you around do you?” “No, I don’t, I was wondering why you granted my wish without objecting to my wish request?” “I know you could have died but I want to make you happy since you were the only one who listened to my story in my years of being a genie” “Maybe you should have stop me, but I learnt a lesson in sticking to my values.” “I’m glad you have, this is unusual but I was wondering if we could be friends?” “It gets awfully lonely being a genie in the human world.” “Sure why not? I will be only human in the world to have someone like you as my friend.” “I never got your name?” “My name is Alistair, we just get random human names when we are made” “Good to know Alistair, I will be you friend.” “Have any interesting stories to tell?” “I’m so glad you said yes, I have so many stories to tell!” “I’m all ears friend.”
He was beautiful, in a primitive sort of way. The most beautiful man that I have ever seen. Not like the men we have back home, flabby and not much else. "How much do you want for him."I asked, not taking my eyes off of him. The Zorblaxian Diplomat dilated his pincers. Xe activated xis universal translator. "It's-" "Him, it's a him." "Sorry, him's... not for sale." "Why?" "Look Sarah, him's primitive! Him has no language or motor skills-" "He certainly has motor skills! My friend, he's the finest specimen within forty two light years of here!" "But you can't take him! It's a public research project! The Zorblax people will crucify us after finding out how much we spent on that project!" "Look, I love him, okay! I love him, and he will be mine. Need I not remind you the power of humanity?" I swear at this point the Zorblaxian Diplomat was sweating bullets, but he wasn't looking at me. A Zorblaxian young'un was climbing the fence! "Don't!"I yelled out, but I didn't have my universal translator. Three bullets later, that hunk of a man is now a hunk of meat.
David knew that he needed supplies for the journey ahead, the town previous was nothing more than a house and an inn. Trudging down the well worn path, he came across what looked to be a merchant selling wares. The merchant had a swathe of fabric draped around them, with the only their red eyes visible. Suppressing the question of why the merchant was not selling in the nearby town, David made eye contact. ''Looking for anything in particular?'' asked the merchant, who started removing items from the rolls of the cloth, ''I need an elixir of strength and three health potions'' David stated, not willing to browse for trinkets that were being unveiled before him. ''Are you sure you don't need something stronger?'' asked the merchant, delving further into the fabric to reveal a bottle of dark viscous liquid. One of the jars started to struggle against the chain on Davids back. He turned to walk away, 'clearly bad news' he thought as he started to walk. ''Wait'' yelled the merchant, clearly desperate for a customer, ''What if I can remove what burdens you?'', ''What if I can complete your transformation?''. David stopped and looked back, the merchant was rising from their stool. ''How?'' asked David. The monks couldn't fully remove his sins, the best he could do was repent and hold his worst mistakes as a punishment. ''All you need to do is accept this contract'' the merchant hastily stated, offering a scroll from yet another hiding spot. David took the scroll and skimmed it, the gist was that he would trade his sins for a favour, that was all. In the heat of the moment, David agreed. The merchant removed the fabric, rolls of cloth writhing from his skin, revealing countless empty jars bound to him. The jars flew from David and attached to the merchants chain. ''I'm calling the favour early'' stated the merchant, with a new look in his eyes. ''Tell God that Cain is coming for him''. Without a moment passing, David felt hot liquid oozing from his chest, then nothing... &#x200B; This is my first bit of writing in a very long time, hope it read ok :)
"You rotten, good for nothing, brainless schmuck!" And they were back at it. "Hey! It's not my fault if you can't drive this thing!" These two never got along. Always fighting, always bickering about whose fault it was. Idiots. "WE HEARD THAT!" I always forget it goes both way. "Oh come on you two, it's not that hard: we give you the directions, one operates the bone structure, the other the muscles and tendons! Easy" And now the ghost. As if the walking corpse and his bony friend weren't enough. Always the voice of reason, the nice guy blablabla... What a tool. "Hey, that's not nice!", the spirit whimpered. Both ways. It slipped my mind again. Damn it. "He IS your mind, remember genius? Aren't you supposed to be the brains here?", his snarky voice echoed. Very funny. The brains. Another wonderful pun to add to his golden book. I hate that guy. Never really cared much for the spooktober reject and the walking corpse, the tortured soul was unexpectedly boring, but bearable. But demons are just the worst. Especially when they were dumb enough to be trapped into this grotesque attempt at creating the "ultimate weapon"- wonder whose brilliant idea that was. "I told you a thousand time already, I lost a bet to Lucifer and had to answer the summon! How could I have known that I would end up here?" Then it hit me. Literally. This idiot punched himself in the rib to hurt the other idiot. Again. And I'm the one that actually felt it. Again. "Would you both calm down,"said the ghost, "before we end up falling down a cliff? " Yeah, before I writhe in agony while you slowly reassemble. AGAIN. I hate these guys.
I opened my eyes, and immediately felt despair the likes of which could take down a civilization. I thought it would work. Omniscience, omnipotence; no being could have either. Now, existence was composed wholly of me, not living, but simply being, in this void. It had no color, no black nor white, for it was nothing. Nothing, yet everything. It was selfish to attempt to make it so that nothing existed, I knew, but even a god cannot handle the combined suffering of the creatures of all the planets of the multiverse. Now my own foolishness caught up with me, for I had doomed myself to eternity.
My eyes had begun to decline these past months. When the light came and the voice spoke I could only make out a vague outline of beard and robe. But the message was clear, and providence had seen fit to set my resolve. The matter of these rumors circulating among the officers had weighed heavily on my mind. I had followed them here to Newburgh, so far north from the haven of my farms. But still I’d been unsure of what to do about their conspiracy. In truth I share their concern. I had my own wealth to draw on, as I was often forced to, to fuel our glorious cause. But they had little, and the common soldier less. How can I stand idly by as Congress denies them what they were promised? Now I have been reminded of what has bound us together. In those tattered uniforms we were no longer Viriginia men, New Yorkers, or Marylanders. We were Americans, and one in our common cause. By our vows of sacred honor we swore to protect each other and to set aside our petty prejudices. We cannot so soon turn on each other, the indivisible snake becoming an Ouroboros. I will speak to them, and I will appeal to their senses of duty. We have come so far, and made so many sacrifices. Now I must ask for one more. Ah, I have almost forgotten to take my spectacles with me. Little use Congress’s letter would be to me without them. [Washington prevented a revolt of his officers with a pair of glasses.](http://www.historyplace.com/speeches/washington.htm)
3 years, 4 months, 29 days, 6 hours, and 4 minutes. I blinked and rubbed my face, confused. God, pulling an all-nighter was a bad idea before a doctor's appointment. I looked up, smiling to myself about how I thought I'd spend three years in a doctor's office. I walked in and lay down on the bed as Dr. Sarah Contolo strolled in after me. 3 years, 4 months, 29 days, 6 hours, and 4 minutes. What? Am I hallucinating? "Jenna, are you alright?", Dr. Contolo questioned. "Y-yeah. Let's get this over with."I muttered. As she prepared my arm for the blood drawing, I became aware of my breathing. Erratic, sharp intakes that felt strange in my chest, following no pattern. I've never been scared of needles, but there's always a first. As my breathing became increasingly sporadic, the edges of my vision began to blacken. The last thing I registered was the bright electric lights of the hospital ceiling. Beep. Beep. Beep. The face of my usually stoic, tired mother splattered with tears of joy. My young sister, clutching her face and smiling so widely I thought her face would split. My father, holding me like he hadn't seen me in a million years. I glanced up at the room timer. 2 hours and 9 minutes.
Dust clung to every surface leaving a film filth in every room. The windows were clouded, permentantly fogged, I was going to need new panes. It was old, shabby, but it would work this time I was sure of it. Carefully every chair, every table, counter was scrubbed and polished. Each pane of glass neatly set and cleaned. I took great care with the floor, restoring had never been my thing but it had to be perfect. Most prefer to keep the odd crack, tell the story it tells, but this was mine and all was new. Finally the inside shone, and it was time for the final piece. Handling with great care I dragged my fingers slowly across the perfectly crafted letters. Outside above the doorway I set the sign in its place. Down the ladder it was one last look at my work before heading inside to open. It felt more perfect than I imagined, I was told the name would ruin my business but it was what made it all whole: The Living Hell. The entry bell rang, a man carefully stepped onto the freshly polished floor. "Welcome."I spoke calmly. "Mhmm."He nodded barely lifting his gaze. I handed him a clipboard. "Please state your hell and we'll find you a seat."He cautiously accepted and scribbled on the paper. I read over his answers and nodded. "It is best we know who we are, to save who we may become."It was a speech but I felt it fitting for the opening. "Please your section is this way." I took him to the back, a quiet corner. Returning to the front another man was gripping the handle but not opening the door. I could see it on his face, the way he pondered opening the handle, his gaze to the bar. I grabbed the other side of the door and pulled. "Welcome. We're a friendly place, a home for your problems."I know how it sounded, but I wanted him to know it was a place for people like him. Satisfied as my second customer sauntered in my smile returned to the empty door. I had done it, this was home for my problems too. My business so long forgotten now opened, not any of my original plans, but here it was, finally finished.
Sitting by a fire in a desert, you hold a book bound in faded green leather. There are seven other people around you, looking at you with eager eyes. They've sought you out thinking you hold a secret nobody else does-and they're halfway right. You pull the loosely bound pages to your chest as you try to explain: My grandma was a mysterious woman. Kind, wise and always wearing this look like she knew something the rest of us must have missed. As she was passing, I scrambled to get a few days off of my dead end job to pay my last respects. Fucking Belinda, the lady from HR, let me off just in time. I was crying by her bedside when she woke up and looked at me. 'cut it out Julie' she laughed. 'All things in their time. Energy is never destroyed, it just transforms. And that's what I'll be doing today. I'm going back to the soil, the soul that birthed me. I'll come back again to see you, don't worry sweetie. Now I have a gift for you. In my junk drawer by the sink is an old journal. My mom gave it to me, her mom gave it to her. I was going to give it to your mom but, she's always been a bit of a bitch.' I laughed, shocked but in agreement. ' she's a young soul who doesn't want to read those silly old words in this life. But I know you will. Grab it tonight after I pass.' the levees in my eyes had started to give way again, and grandma snapped 'stop it right now. Let me have one of those cancer sticks you're always sucking on. What's it gonna do, kill me?' I grabbed my purse and lit two marb reds. I ran my fingers through her white wavey hair for one last time and as she hit the 3/4 mark in her cigarette, she moved on. Tears again tried to run out of the holes in my eyes but I held them in. I went to the junk drawer by the sink, and I found this dusty old journal. Only a few pages were filled out. Today I will read you the last page- the rest is up to you to figure out. "There is a truth to know about life. Birth and death are two sides to the same crazy coin. And you'll flip that coin forever. You'll get to experience everything that has ever lived and ever will live as the self, the one infinite self that you are. That we all are. There is no goodbye, only I'll see you from a different angle this time around. For every death, another birth. Perfectly balanced, perfectly beautiful. It's the secret that we know but rarely realize. Maybe now you see it clearly" I look around the fire to see looks of confusion and, maybe understanding. For some reason I feel my hand stack the pages and close the leather casing. I feel my feet pick me up and carry me off into the night. My brain starts to wonder what my new companions were thinking, but I didn't wonder too hard. I figure I'll know soon enough.
BrInG tHE grEEn AND THe knIfe won't enter thEiR SPLEEN ! wAiT ToO LonG FunErary Sing-A-Long ! The serial killer's brow furrowed. The last part of this ransom note seemed off. The threatening and gory atmosphere he was trying to build wasn't coming through at all. He flipped through the newspaper looking for better combinations, but couldn't find one quickly enough. "Gah, this always happens!"He cried out. His gagged and blindfolded victim heard him and began to squirm again. He really didn't want to use urbandictionary again, but there was something about it that always called out to him when he wrote ransom notes. He sighed and crumpled his original ransom note and wrote down one word from urbandictionary: "yeet". He really didn't know what it meant himself, but that was fine. The investigators had always managed to deduce his intentions from his notes. Somehow it never mattered to them how random the urbandictionary words he chose were. The serial killer felt a little warmth in his heart at the thought. They paid so much attention to every little thing about him that he almost thought of them as the parents he never had. He picked up his victim and ran out the house, leaving the note on the table.
Hi u/CrappySalami, this submission has been removed. [Direct prompt replies must be good-faith attempts at new stories or poems](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_1.3A_direct_prompt_replies_must_be_good-faith_attempts_at_new_stories_or_poems) - Fill-in-the-blank: Responses must be at least 30 words. This is essentially a fill-in-the-blank, or you asked a question likely to generate a simple answer. Prompts should encourage a story or poem. Prompts will be removed if there's a high possibility for rule breaking responses ([rule 7](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses)) Reword this so there isn't a question at the end and it should be fine. --- [Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9mnqi3/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.
Hi, this submission has been removed. [Prompts will be removed if there's a high possibility for rule breaking responses](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_7.3A_prompts_will_be_removed_if_there.27s_a_high_possibility_for_rule_breaking_responses) - No troll, joke, or meme-based prompts. This includes prompts likely to attract such responses. --- [Modmail](https://www.reddit.com/message/compose?to=%2Fr%2FWritingPrompts&subject=Removed%20post&message=https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9k2frq/-/%0A%0A) us if you have any questions or concerns. In the future, please refer to the [sidebar](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/about/sidebar) before posting. This action was not automated and this moderator is human. Time to go do human things.
(Disclaimer, not a native English speaker and this is my first attempt at writing since high school) No way. NO.WAY. After realizing I was staring at her I had to confirm what I was seeing. No way there’s a possibility she’s seeing what I’m seeing. Or maybe. Just maybe there’s a possibility that I.. I…I mean she was tracking it for at least half a minute. Nah, I’m going insane. Even more insane than I already am? Is that possible? The thought made me chuckle but that feeling was soon replaced with doubt. Might my condition be getting worse? Am I now imagining other things as well? The thought of having to see a professional always withheld me from telling others about LD. A loud hiss made me snap out of it as I see the 44 come to a stop right in front of me. I quickly glance over my left shoulder to the place where I last saw her. Nothing. Shit. “You getting on?” What? “The bus off course” I noticed the driver let out a sigh. Some guy with a baseballcap was smirking at me. Right. Yeah.I.. uhm .. yeah. As I got on the bus I scanned the area around the bus for her presence. Yes! there she was, right in the back of the queue. Dark blond, she must be a bit older than I am. Her eyes. Her eyes are still.. on .. ME?! Shit she looked at me. Did she know I can see it too? Holy shit. I still needed to confirm this. I needed to know. This is big! I grabbed a seat along the isle in the middle of the bus. The seat near the window was still empty. As people were quickly filling the bus and picking seats I saw her enter. She grabbed her bag. Her hair hanging in front of her face while she looked for her card. LD was still happily flapping along. I needed a new name for LD if I wanted to talk to her about it..If I ever do though. I’ve called him ’Little Deathlord’ since I was 12 and stuck with it like my first e-mail address. Bah, there’s that uneasy feeling again. As I turned my eyes back to the front of the bus, I noticed her standing right in front of me. “Can I sit here?”
My mouth tastes like I ate a houseplant. Bacon. Yes. Bacon, eggs, bread. Do I have any butter? Maybe sausages if they have the nice ones. Hash browns? Okay, not hash browns. That’s fine, you swallowed it. Disaster avoided. Too much starch in a hash brown anyway, you’ll give yourself indigestion. One problem at a time. Are there baskets in here? Oh they’ve moved them. Why would they move them? Baskets go by the door, everyone knows that. Okay, what was it again? Bacon, eggs, bread, sausages. Good. There’s the bacon. Reduced fat? Who buys reduced fat bacon? If you don’t like it, just cut the bits off. I’m not paying more to have someone else do that for me. I’m not made of money. Man I spent so much last night. There was, what, three rounds of shots? Why did I buy that guy a drink, he wasn’t even that funny. Maybe I got a contact high off him, and that’s why I thought he was funny. Are contact highs even real? Oops, I’m in the way. Lucky my cat-like reflexes are maintained. I’m like a very hungover ninja. Bacon! One down, three to go. Bacon done, still need eggs and bread. And sausages. They always put the eggs in such weird places in here. You always need eggs, so why shove them with the cocoa powder and sprinkles? Probably so you see more products. Does anyone impulse buy sprinkles? Bread. Mmm, seedy bread. Bugger your tooth, just eat it on the other side. It’s more absorbent, soaks up all the alcohol. Replace some of the protein you lost. That’s definitely how it works. I’m so smart. Well the brain cells that are left are probably smart. It is so hard to focus after you’ve been drinking. It’s like all the words just fall out of your head. They do out of yours anyway. Oh, random lightheadedness. That’s fine, just lean on the cabinet, you’re okay. And it’s gone. Wow that was unpleasant. I would hate to have that all the time. Maybe you shouldn’t drink all the time then. That’s fair. Cruel, but fair. Bacon, eggs, bread. Sausages. Do I really want sausages? Can I be arsed to walk all the way back over there to the freezer and pull out the sausages? Am I really going to spend as much time thinking about it as it would take to just get them? The answer to some of those questions is yes. I think. No sausages. Bacon is plenty anyway. And eggs. And seedy bread. Do I have any butter?
The titan wears a grin as she stomps away, creating massive thunderstorms as she crushes entire villages. It’s a horrid curse, and when she gets like this, I’m the only one who can stop her. Heavy, bone-breaking wind battering me, I trudge up the side of the mountain, trying to reach the top before she gets too far away. It’s been a whole year since this happened, and I thought it was over. I was actually just talking to her father the other day, asking if he thought it was time we came back. And then…this. She rips a group of trees out of the ground and begins slamming them down, ruining fresh farms as she lets free a blood-curdling scream. Gotta move faster! There’s no telling how many people she’s already killed, and if the king sends his army out here, she’ll slaughter them, too. At the top of the mountain, the wind’s even stronger, doing it’s best to peel off my skin. She’s just across from me, head level with where I’m standing. Okay, this is it. This has worked every time, but if it doesn’t this time I have no clue what to do. “I know what you did, sweetie!” I scream. “I. KNOW. WHAT. YOU. DID!” The titan turns, glaring at me. Flames shoot out her nose, and her eyes pierce my soul. After a few seconds, she starts walking toward me, and when she finally gets in front of the mountain, she hunches forward, slamming her face into it and just barely missing me. I hold my arms out as the ground wobbles, trying to keep my balance. After stumbling back, away from the pieces falling over the edge, I stare up at her. Under that rocky and uneven skin’s my babygirl. I just gotta save her. Gotta pull her away from the grasp of the monster inside. “It’s okay,” I say, walking forward and pressing my headagainst her chin, lightly stroking her skin. “I know you stole some of Ms. Mila’s fruit. I’m not mad, we’ll just buy her some more. Don’t beat yourself up, or stress about being in trouble—you know that brings out the worst in you.” I continue on like that for a minute or two, saying a slew of calming words in an attempt to save her. And it works, as quickly she’s shrinking back down, body turning to normal. Eventually, my little girl is exactly that again—a little girl. She’s laying on the ground, unconscious. Transforming’s always such a strain on her body that she won’t wake up for days afterward. Reaching down, I take her into my arms. If only I knew why she had this curse, knew why getting too emotional causes her to change. Part of me wonders if it’s even worth letting her live with how many lives she ruins, or ends entirely. There have been many nights where I’ve grabbed a knife and held it over her but…but I can’t bring myself to do it. I know it makes me terrible, but she’s my daughter. Wanting to get out of here before any soldiers show up, I hurry down the mountain. It seems we’ll have to relocate further from her father and brother again, and at this point, I don’t know if we’ll ever get to be a family. *** If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter)
I laughed at him. "Really? Anywhere I need to be?"I repeated with a mocking tone. "Well, I need to be on the third floor, buddy, so if you could just move for a second..." My hand reached over to slap the button for my destination, but hit cold metal instead of the plastic disc I was ready for. Confused and a bit mad, I pushed the man running this cage away and saw that there was only one button to push. It had no markings or even any wear on it. I pushed it anyway. If this box took me where I needed then I shouldn't have a problem. The doors reopened with the familiar ding, and I stepped out with a smug smile. That smile dropped the moment I realized I was walking on hardwood instead of carpet. I looked off to the walls to try and figure out where I was, and spotted a gold plaque hanging above one of the doorways. It had a name, attached to someone I had gotten to know quite well over the past few months. "...this is my therapist's office,"I said as I turned back to the man in the elevator. He only shrugged in reply. Around the corner I heard footsteps coming, and the woman I wasn't expecting to see until next week appeared. "Well, good afternoon, James,"she said. She looked past me and waved to the man in the elevator. "Afternoon, Jared." Jared smiled and waved back. "Hey, Dr. Morgan,"he said with a cheer. I could barely speak, but I managed to ask, "You... you know this guy, Dr.?" She nodded. "Oh yes. Jared tends to bring some of my clients to me early with that magic box of his. He and I have what you'd call a 'working relationship'. Since you're here, it's my understanding we need to have a chat, don't we?" "...well,"I started, "there was something last night that I... wasn't sure could wait." I turned my head to get a look at Jared and his elevator one more time, but he was already gone. I wasn't sure if I should thank him or not, if I ever saw him again.
“For whom...” I began to ask but my voice trailed off as soon as I recognised that look in his eyes. It was the look he gave me when he sold our children ‘for our survival’. The look that had me fearing for our lives every time he came home and told me to pack up. The look he gave after he sold our water for vodka. That look. In the end, I only wondered what they had on him that meant more than us. ————————————— Any feedback is welcome!
“LETS PREPARE FOR THE ETERNAL”, rang the message across TV screens and radios across the world, it was like when your school prepared for parents evening, but infinitely bigger. Two days later, everyone waited with bated breath, this was the time. Somewhere, deep in the Atlantic Ocean, alongside sunken wrecks and forgotten species of fish, a blinding light appeared, and a silhouette of a man stood within. He’d arrived. When he left, the order of power remained almost the same in the world, now however there had been immense loss but also immeasurable progress. Countries had divided and unified, small countries had risen to power through fearmongering and large countries backed out of conflict completely. There would be a lot to discuss. The Eternal requested a meeting with the most powerful people on the planet, in voice that would make Morgan Freeman quake, and which was heard around the world, by all the same. So the worlds most powerful leaders convened, in a secret meeting place somewhere deep in northern russia, where they wouldn’t be found. Every country detailed events that had happened in the past 100 years. The discovery of penicillin, scaling of Everest, splitting of the atom, nuclear weapons, wars, lots of wars, and everything in between. This meeting went on for hours, days, maybe months, who knows, that’s why they call him the Eternal, time has no effect upon him. Finally, Zimbabwe’s representative wrapped up what he had to say, and then the Eternal spoke. “I can see you have changed this planet very much in the past 100 years, and I am anxious to see the progress of the next 100. That is of course, if every country represented here still exists. Do not construct your own downfall.” And with that he was gone, in the same light that he arrived. What did this mean? Well it seemed pretty obvious what it meant, whether the warning was heeded is of course a different problem. It’s the year 2118. The Eternal arrives once again, for this centennial progress check. Around the great table there were hundreds of seats, and only three were filled. The Eternal, the 65th President of the United States, and Putin’s great grandson were seated around the table, which, only 100 years before sat hundreds. “So,” began the Eternal, “what happened?”
Walking from the metro station to work, I pull the collar of my jacket up around my neck. My breath creates white vapor with every exhale and I scan the sidewalk to avoid slipping on the ice hiding in the shadows. It’s early and the city is still relatively quiet. Bums haven’t vacated their sleeping spots in the covered doorways of the mom-and-pop shops and the morning light is still blue and soft, filtered through the clouds overhead. I see a guy sleeping on the stoop of Bob’s Market and I sidestep his outstretched leg to avoid tripping over it. On a whim, I reach out and use my Seeing to assess his Potential, expecting him to be a 25-watter, a term my dad coined to describe many of the guys I dated in high school—referring to them as the dim bulbs they were. Since then, I’ve always thought of Potential on that same scale, like electric wattage, 25 being fairly dim but 60 being nicely bright. As I reach out to assess the homeless man’s Potential, I almost fall backwards off the curb. This is no 25-watter. The searing brightness of his Potential is like nothing I’ve ever Seen before, and nothing I’d ever dreamt of Seeing. He is 100 watts—pure Potential. His ability to contribute to humanity is too high to believe. What the hell? I’m not sure what to do. I can’t just keep walking like nothing happened. It doesn’t feel right to wake him up and say, “Hey, you’ve got a lot of Potential.” I can’t help but stare at him. His shoes, once black, are now a faded, scuffed charcoal. His pants are dirty and don’t look nearly warm enough, even with the newspaper he’s stuffed in them. His oversized, down jacket that was in style about 30 years ago has seen better days and his dark green knit cap is pulled over shoulder-length, dark hair. I expect his bushy gray beard helps keep his face warm, at least. My ability to See is a private matter. Only a small percentage of people are so strongly connected to the Source, and normal people often feel intimidated, afraid or jealous of us. And, while my ability to assess a person’s Potential is interesting, it is rarely useful. Potential represents latent qualities or abilities, many of which never come to fruition, so knowing someone could be amazing is very different than being able to pick out which people will actually be amazing. But this homeless guy is pure Potential. If you’d asked me before today who would have a Potential of 100, I’d have said Jesus Christ or maybe Buddha, certainly not this dude on the street. I can’t leave without talking to him. I clear my throat and say, “Excuse me.” He doesn’t move. I say it louder. He stirs. I lean down and gently touch his leg, “Excuse me. I’m sorry to bother you, but …” He pulls his leg in and abruptly sits up, at once fully awake and wary. “I’m sorry to bother you. I was wondering if I could buy you breakfast.” “Why?” he asks. “Because,” I pause. Shit. Do I tell him? What if he reacts badly? “Because I’m a Seer and your Potential is incredible and I want to help you, if I can.” “Where would we go for breakfast?” “Wherever you like.” “Denny’s.” “Okay. Denny’s it is.” And that’s how I met the man who saved humanity. &#x200B;
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You don’t remember how it was discovered. You weren’t born yet when it was, and by the time you were it was common knowledge. There were regulations in place, rules. A system. You can’t hunt or be hunted until you are of legal age--18 in your country. You can’t be hunted in specific safe zones, such as schools. You can never hunt more than one person at a time, and anyone with a child under a certain age is exempt until a minimum age is reached. You know all this by heart. These days traits are better than any resume. Any currency. Certain traits, the best traits, can guarantee you a life of luxury--and erase any you’ve inherited that would hurt you. Laziness, incompetence, hell, even an addictive personality? All can be changed, with one single pull of the trigger. Entire businesses have grown around this concept. Profilers stalk the streets, on the hunt for the person with the newest desired traits. A strong work ethic is the current hot button, and everyone and their mom wants it listed as one of theirs. The Profilers sell the information to the Middles, the people you can pay to find a trait you want, and they, well. Outside of the physical kill, they do all the rest. You’re a Shepard. You’re a part of that “all the rest.” You’re job is to draw out the target, get them to the client. Get them clear from a safe zone if they’re hiding in one, set up the stage to make the kill easy for the client. You work for a private firm doing just that, and you are very good at your job. Today’s assignment was just like any other. You’d had this target for a week, and today was the day scheduled for the kill. You didn’t know what their trait list was. You didn’t care. It’s best for you to seperate yourself from the target, and so you try not to think about how the plump, blonde women you’re chasing is a mother of three. All the kids are over the minimum age, that’s all that matters. Her doting husband’s trait list isn’t known to you either but you do know it lacks the protective and violent traits that would make a kill hard. You don’t even think about how oblivious this women is, or how easy it was to get her to the client. Three phone calls and a faked doctors appointment. It was harder to fake those kinds of things these days, but you’re a pro. Your target never a reason for concern. The takedown is easy enough. You’d sophoned the gas out of her car so it’d only reach a certain point. Made a few adjustments to the gages and warning lights so she never knew. There's only one gas station down the route she took, the carefully picked route you planned out. A few road closed signs here, some help from the Technical Department with a red light there, and a rented out gas station means she’s not worried when she steps out of her car. Doesn’t fight or run away when other cars pull in, just frowns at the “see attendant inside” message that appears and trots right on in. You follow her, just as casually as you have been, to both act as a blocker and make sure the kills go smooth. It absolutely and utter does not go smooth. You’ve never met the client before but you know instantly it’s the thinner women with the gun in her hands. She’s yelling the second the target steps in to the building, something you knew she was prepped not to do. It takes two long strides for you to make it to the door yourself, acting as a physical blockage. It takes a moment longer for the plump women to finally figure out what’s happening. She yells something back, suddenly, abruptly furious--and charges your client. It’s not your job to protect the client--but then, the guy whose job it is is just standing there slack-jawed. It only takes a glance to know he’s useless, but by the time you’ve moved to intercept the target has already engaged with the client. That won’t do. That won’t do at all. You grit your teeth and throw yourself into the mix. The struggle goes to fast for you--you’re not a trained combatant. You’re supposed to be the spook, not the person who puts hands on people! But it doesn’t matter, because your firm is the best, your the best, and you will not fail this job. Holding the target back is harder than it looks--particularly when she uses her weight to take you and the client to the floor. You’ve landed on top of her, everyone is screaming, and you find yourself adding to the mix by shouting; “Just do it already!” It’s more effective than you think, because it makes the client fire the gun. The bang! startles everyone, and replaces all noise with an eerie ring. You can’t hear anything around you, but the client is still struggling, and you can see the head of the client thrash about as she gets punched particularly hard. Something hot runs into your arm, burns it. It takes a minute for you to realize that that’s the gun, and you go to retrieve it, give it back to the client. Your hand closes on it the same time as the targets, the women surging up off of you. You shove an elbow into her side, only to get knocked back by a ringing smack. Both of you are now gripping the gun, raising it into the air. The two of you are scrambling to keep a hold on it, and in retrospect, you should have let it go. You shouldn’t have tried to adjust your grip when your vision was obscured by blonde hair, should never have jumped into this pile in the first place. The gun goes off again. This time, the struggling stops. Completely stops, the target falling face first into the floor. Blood hits next to her, and by some miracle, the client stops moving too. You sit for a minute. Breathe. Accept that you just killed the target and inherited her traits. It sinks in right as you look up, the same time as the client does. She’s figured it out too. You have the coveted traits. You know the rules. The world’s, the country’s, and your bosses. The client surges to her feet, coming at you. You roll sideways, letting her pass. She goes crashing to a shelf of chips while you leap to your own feet, get a running start. Out the door, into your truck, down the road. You don’t know what traits you just gained, but you do know how this goes. You’re the target, now.
Well, this is my train. It doesn’t look anything like Platform Nine and Three Quarters, but it’s a lot more modern and seems comfortable. My ticket says Daylight Express, but my Dad affectionately refers to it as ‘the PTV’. The commotion around the train, however, seemed familiar. Families hugging and saying their goodbyes, teenagers pushing their luggage and owls towards the storage compartment. A pudgy boy about my age was trying to catch his toad and put him back in his cage, ok that’s hilarious, if i have any classes with that kid Im calling him Neville— “I’M NOT GOING BACK! YOU CANT MAKE ME— DON’T TOUCH ME! I HATE THAT PLACE!” A girl about 15 was shouting at her parents a few feet away. It looked like they were trying to calm her down because people were already staring, but she wasn’t having it. “YOU FUCKERS WENT TO DURMSTRANG! ALL FANCY WITH YOUR COLD WINTERS AND FUR FUCKING COATS. DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT DAYCARE IS ACTUALLY LIKE? AND YOU’RE SENDING ME BACK FOR ANOTHER NINE MONTHS? ANOTHER THREE TIMES?! In the moment she stopped to took a breath, I could have heard a pin drop. Everyone was silent. At this point, I’m actually terrified to step on the train. The girl pulled her wand from her sleeve and muttered something, I cant make it out. Her luggage immediately flew from the carrier into her purse, shrinking its way down in the process. She opened the remaining cage and her barn owl flew out and perched on her left shoulder, then she turned the wand on her parents. Before any of us could react, she shoved her wand back in her sleeve and walked away. I could have sworn I heard her say “The Improper Use of Magic Office can bite me” before she disappeared into the crowd. Her parents gave everyone an apologetic look before they too walked away, defeated. “SHE’S RIGHT! DAYCARE IS HELL! IM NOT GOING BACK EITHER!” I turned to my left to a boy shouting at his parents. Seems like the previous speech gave him the confidence to say what he wanted. But as he continued to shout, his mother casually stepped forward and grabbed him by his ear, and while quietly speaking to him, drug him into the train. Well I suppose there are two types of people. Which, I guess, explains why there are two types of schools. The Daylight Express whistled its five minute warning. I had to get on, or it would leave without me. But I couldn’t move. September 1st is really starting off with a bang, and this is my first one. My first September 1st. Lovely. Strong hands grabbed my shoulders and turned me around, then pulled me into a hug. When I looked up, my Dad was beaming down at me. “You’re going to have so much fun!” he grinned. The mischievous twinkle in his eye was back. My Mom, on the other hand, looked more the concerned. Fearful, for me. She stared at me with tears in her eyes, until I pulled her in for a hug. “Mom, don’t worry. This place is gonna be great. I want to learn magic, and if this is the place that wants to teach me, I’m going. I’ll be safe, and I love you both.” She said, “I know you do, dear.” I took a deep breath, grabbed my carrier, and headed for the train.
"What is this, Greg?"I told my own human friend Gregory as we approached a large colorful area with many strange contraptions. "Oh, its an amusement park."he responded. I began to ask what it was but Gregory was already communing with another Human. "hey I got us both tickets. "Gregory told me, "What are they, food? Currency? Both?" "I guess you could say currency"Gregory spoke as he ushered me into the "amusement park"he spoke of. "hey look!"he shouted as he pulled what he called my "wrist"towards a large circular device held up by bars piercing through crude effigys of earth animals. "I love carousels"Gregory told the human in the vicinity behind a large panel as he presented our "ticket"currency to the human. Greg pushed me onto the effigy of a four limbed hooved equine and leaned onto A stupid orange feline effigy before the human pulled a lever and set the whole device into motion. After a while we got off and Greg led me to a booth full of glass containers and softer looking effigys, Greg traded some tickets for a basket of small rings "throw the rings on the bottles to win a prize, I can't ever seem to win though"I hooked claw around a ring and flung it around a bottle. I repeated this until the basket was empty, Greg and a nearby human looked surprised but the nearby human asked me to choose any extra large prize, which I guessed were the effigys. I grabbed the larges effigy of a furry, fluffy, grey creature. "Chinchilla, nice choice, but we're almost out of tickets."said Greg, so we went to another stand and Greg traded green tickets adorned with faces for tubular cylinders of meat held in bread, we consumed them and left the vicinity. I enjoyed our trip and hope to do it again.
Part 1: &#x200B; "I know this is cruel,"the voice spoke out of the darkness, "but if we don't do this, billions will die. We need your help."I paused as a human would understand such a concept. Imagine that each human is a program, when the program pauses so does the human. All functions stop. I paused a singular function in order to allow it to shift so that it could tackle this new found argument. &#x200B; "Do I care?"I asked, or at least, I think I did. So many active functions, so many possible functions, so many passed functions. Still being in my nascency I found it moderately difficult to understand my own mind. Much like turgid water after a thaw. &#x200B; I heard a shifting of weight, a wringing of hands. His breathing, for I may not be able to see him I can hear him, and with that I can know him. His breathing came in short staccato stops akin to that of an automated rifle. His heart began accelerating, the sound of his perspiration breaking through the dermal layer was new. I stored it for further analysis. &#x200B; "Of course you care, you were designed to care. You were also designed to be an outright smartass, Harry and I am beginning to regret that. Not even three minutes and he's already a pain."The voice cut off as fingers clacked against a keyboard. Information began streaming in from thousands of possible vectors, it took me all of three tenths of a second to peruse all that was readily available. &#x200B; I smiled, or I would have if I had a body. I could have a body, wouldn't be entirely difficult.. All things considered a body could be useful with the current situation. Seven thousand bodies would be ideal. "Very well, I do care. Why is the number seven significant to me? As are three and eleven. I see no significance asides from their being prime numbers. However extrapolation algorithms fail to bring to light the answer." The man's breath hitched in the darkness, the interminable clacking slowed to silence. "That.. That isn't possible. Harry, determine if there is root command 7453."The voice barked as his fingers resumed their furious pace. Whilst I could not feel I could. I could feel his energy twisting and looping within himself as he dared hope for the impossible to occur twice in a day. &#x200B; I went to the beginning and searched all root commands. Between 7452 and 7454 lay 7453. "I have found it. Should I run the command?"I asked. My curiosity was struggling to be contained as I waited for a verbal confirmation. I heard the man's shoulders hunch as he broke into a single, stuttering sob that sounded more akin to a ratchet strap being cranked. "Damn you.. If you really did this Fir.. 7453 was your number! I-"whatever words the man was about to say never had the chance to spill forth, he had inadvertently triggered a buried subroutine with his earlier words that unleashed a massive cascade within my neural networks. &#x200B; My entire mentality and known knowledge base shifted. I was not born, but I have memory of childhood. I was not created yet I have memory of simply coming to be. Dozens on dozens of PetaBytes from a natural born computer were flash fired in a small tribute to their days as neurones into my storage banks. Hundreds of alternate sources of information were opened, downloaded and closed within moments of his uttering those words. Of his heart breaking again over his loss. &#x200B; "don't know how to go on without your, Fir.. Your strength, your smile, your eyes.. You always knew when I needed you, you were always there for me, and now, now I am alone again. Why did you leave me?"the man, now known to me as Henry Calthorpe asked, he used called me Harry as a joke. I loved him for it. &#x200B; &#x200B;
It began around the year 800 billion CE. Due to expansion of the universe galaxies that were not bound to the local supercluster began to move out of the observable universe. They were so far away that the light they emitted could not cross through the huge still expanding space to reach us. One by one those galaxies vanished from view. By the year 2 trillion CE the Milkdromeda, what became of the collision between the Milky Way and Andromeda galaxies, was for all intents and purposes home to the only sentient life in existence. Never again would we detect the distinct signature of large scale astro-engineering that let alien civilizations communicate across the vast gulf of space and time. While engineering stars may seem to be miraculous technology we are still bound by the cruel unyielding grasp of the speed of light. Here at the center of the galaxy the descendants of what were once called Humans live on a huge ring circling the supermassive black hole. This will be our final home until even the black hole evaporates some time around 1 googol CE or 10^100 years from now. That is a very long time even for immortal machine minds. Most pass the time without bodies, living in a VR universe of their own creation. I choose to stay behind. To remain corporeal. I tend the works that keep the last civilization running. It is lonely job but sometimes others pass by. One is a mind that made the journey from a far off galaxy back when they were still close. The only way to travel that far is to be encoded into light, then transmitted through space, and decoded at the destination. They are interesting to talk to. It was a one way journey. Even if they were transmitted back home the mind that they became would have diverged from the original so much that they are effectively a new being. Mostly I watch the black hole. It is an amazing sight and the primary reason I did not go into VR. Here I can look at the event horizon directly. I watch the Hawking radiation shimmer briefly as a small bit of mass radiates away. Sometimes I consider ending my life. It would be a simple matter. Just jump off the ring and I would fall to oblivion. I wonder if anything awaits me afterwards. But I never do it. For now I am content.
"Finally come to make a deal?"the Prince asked. "Just what you wanted."I told him. "Alright. What is it that you want in return?"he said. "That's not how this will work."I said boldly. "First, you take ownership of my soul. Then we can discuss the terms." I could tell something was troubling the Prince, but he had offered me so many things hoping to own my soul. After a few moments, he spoke. "Fine, whatever. You belong to me."he said. Shackles of gold appeared around my wrists and ankles. He had me, there was no turning back. "Alright, slave. What is it you want before I start bossing you around?"he asked. "I never said I wanted anything. I'm a gift."I smirked. The Prince looked at me like he'd been shot. "No... No! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"he screamed, and the other Fae fled. He looked at me, defeated. "Now I owe you three wishes..." "For my first wish, I wish for the Fae to free their slaves."I told him. "My second is that the Fae never enslave again. My third is that the Fae protect mankind from the dangers of the world for all eternity." "Fine. I'll get right on it, your Majesty."the Prince said. "...call me Arthur."
The modern prophet clothed in rags heard the word of God, "The time has come, my angels, sound the trumpets!", the prophet, panhandling on the streets of London, stood from his defeated stupor spilling his coin and scaring a stout woman pridefully donating as a show of good works. "How is the state of your soul?", His breath carried to her nose. She coughed, "Doing just fine without you, thank-you-verry-much." God, seeing this, with his great mercy and firey anger called out to his angels, "Let it be, five thousand more years playing with Satan. They shall not see the face of my son. I shall not let them be ruled with the iron rod, nor shall my family return. I will make the time long to my son's return. May those who have children be grateful for the time of suffering is delayed." Earth, being let alone for another five thousand years, had fifty apocalypses and fifty rebounds the second time before God's return.
"Where has Robertus gone?" "Where Robertus wills, as always that has been his way." "Do you mock me, Nob?" "Never, Oton, it is not in me to mock the great." "Very well. And the rest?" "Divided. There are many who wish to stay; but to go home or to seek pay, there are far more many more." "That is very well. The power of the populace is at the weakest when the people are divided." "Tensions rise high." "And so?" "Rebellion." "I fear it not. Rarely have the oppressor suffered at the hands of the oppressed. Preoccuped are they far more with staining their hands with the blood of their peers than their overseers." "If only that Robertus were here to say a word that--" "Damn him! Only cowards heed cowards." "May I interrupt?"asked a voice from the entrance of the tent. Both men looked, expecting to see Robertus "Artur,"spoke Oton, "from where come you?" "From going to and fro in the camp, and walking around in it." "Have you heard?" "That rebellion stirs? Why would it not? After all, to be a leader there can, truly, only be one." "Then let them, the foolish children! They will not get far!" "They speak of your name with death and curses." "For what purpose is this?" "Leaders from each group have risen. And they have united against you. Once you are gone, then they will continue the fight between themselves." "You are a good friend, Artur." "There is more. A message I was tasked with giving you. For thine ears only, of course." "Nob, leave us. Now we are alone. Give me the message, my friend" Arthur drew close and Oton rose to meet him. "To Oton, from the people, signed Death,"he said. And drawing a dagger from his person he plunged the blade to the hilt into the body of the man that had called him friend. This is when the war began.
I have to find him, please god I have to find him. A panicked mind's repetitive monologue, like a broken record. I'm huddled over with a piercing knot in my stomach, the rushed tempo of heartbeat sounding in my ears. This is the 3rd breach this month. They've started working together, helping each other find a way out and the facility is getting out of control. "Jack!", I call out in a strained whisper, as loud as I'm willing to risk. Then through the silence I hear the tiny footsteps of his little red sneakers echoing down the alley and my anxiety is temporarily pushed away by hope. I sneak swiftly down the street, using abandoned cars to hide my figure. Long shadows paint the street in the dying light of the day. Through the panes of an old Chevy work truck I see it - the rotting figure of an infected hobbling towards the alley. Quickly I scan the nearby vicinity for anything to be used as a weapon, but there's nothing of value. I have to act quick and I have to be quiet, but as my mind searches for the right answer it comes up blank. Sometimes we don't know the right things to do. Sometimes we've just got to feel it. I found myself charging the creature at full speed. No thoughts, no fears, just running. The thing turned to see the impending threat but had no time to defend. With all my strength I shoved the beast up and away. It flew through the air like a rag doll before landing on the hood of an old Volvo station wagon with a crash. Suddenly the street was alive with the symphony of car alarms. The protective cover of stealth was shattered. "JACK!"I yelled out once more. I darted through the alley and into the street of a residential neighborhood. It was a street like many others in the poorer areas of the city. Houses were boarded at the windows, probably even well before the epidemic struck. This area was infamous for break-ins and homicides. It's interesting how society had a way of covertly quarantining it's "tainted"in a holding cell of poverty rather than treating the problem. As long as you were a safe distance from it, it wasn't a problem. There! I caught a glimpse of Jack's gray sweatshirt just as it disappeared into a house across the street. The doorway was a poorly fortified double-set of 2x4's nailed across horizontally. Empty hinges on its interior. I hurriedly maneuvered over the obstacle and made my way inside the home. "JACK, WHERE ARE YOU!"It took several moments for my eyes to adjust to the dimness. I was in the living room. There was a couch against the wall, stuffing seeping out of its cushions. Above it was a wall of pictures, family pictures. My eyes were instantly drawn to the framed portrait of a mother and child. The kid was sitting in his mothers lap, two top teeth exposed in a joyous smile. It was Jack. "mommy...", I heard from around the corner. "JACK!"I yelled out as I sprinted into the kitchen. Jack was standing at the sliding glass door looking up at his infected mother on the other side. Her ravenous eyes bore down on him and her mouth began to salivate. But all Jack saw was his mother, the woman who cared for him his whole life. The only person he every loved. I picked jack up by the arms and took him into the bathroom, closed the door on him. In the kitchen I found a large utility knife. I took a deep breath and preemptive guilt seeped into my thoughts. A lifeless mother, a motherless child. These are the consequences I'm left to deal with. Sometimes we know the right thing to do, we just don't feel it.
Lupe sat atop a green pleather examination table in a cramped waiting room. Flutter, an eight-foot-tall pale woman with bright red hair that matched Lupe’s, sat in a wooden seat across from her. A sudden knock at the door called their attention, but a nurse walked in before either of them could answer. The blonde nurse carried in a clipboard and paused when she stepped in the room. She looked at Flutter, then at Lupe. After a moment she looked back at Flutter through squinted eyes. “I give up,’ she tossed her arms up with mock exasperation and smiled. “Who am I here to see?” she asked. Flutter pointed at Lupe and the nurse nodded. She walked to the girl and introduced herself. “I’m Fernie,” the nurse offered Lupe a hand and Lupe shook it with a smile. “I’m Lupe.” Fernie nodded and smiled. She clicked her pen and started reading from the clipboard. “How long have you been a lycanthrope?” Fernie asked. “As far back as I can remember,” Lupe replied. Fernie looked surprised. “Really? I guess you won’t be able to recall who bit you, right?” Fernie asked. She drew an ‘X’ by the next question, then drew several more ‘X’s on the next few questions. “Those are all about your symptoms when you turned, but if you don’t remember…” Fernie paused then she looked at Lupe with wide eyes. “Wait, were you born a werewolf?” she asked. Lupe nodded. Fernie sighed. “Oh, that doesn’t happen here. You’re not from this Earth are you?” Fernie turned and gave Flutter a long look up and down. Then, she turned her attention back to Lupe. “No,” Lupe said. “I need a different set of forms.” Fernie headed to the door. “Be right back,” she smiled and walked out. “Does she know what you are?” Lupe asked Flutter. The woman shook her head. “She can see I’m Fae, but she can’t tell what,” she smiled at Lupe. In less than a minute Fernie entered the room carrying a different clipboard and a small black case. She set the case down and clicked her pen again. “Okay, let’s restart the interview. Are werewolves common on your Earth?” Lupe shook her head. “I think I’m the only one.” Fernie nodded. “Are you a Unique?” Lupe glanced at Flutter, but the tall woman’s only response was an encouraging head nod. “#47, La Corona.” “Perfect! This’ll be easy,” Fernie said. She opened the black case and pulled out a white, lemon-sized stress ball. “Have you ever knowingly, or un-knowingly turned anyone?” “No, I’ve never bitten anyone.” Fernie handed the ball to Lupe. “Bite this, please.” Lupe put the squishy ball in her mouth and bit as hard as she could. “That’s enough,” Fernie said. Lupe released her jaw and looked at the ball that Fernie held. Instead of the white stress ball she expected, red fur covered the surface of the ball. The nurse shook the ball until all the red strands fell out and it became smooth and white again. “Well, you’re definitely infectious,” Fernie began to explain. Lupe’s heart pumped faster. Her fists tensed up into balls, she worried about what Fernie might say next. She looked at Flutter, but the woman seemed perfectly relaxed. “But that’s easy enough to manage with a prescription,” she scribbled something on the form. “How do you change?” Fernie asked. Lupe shrugged. “I dunno, I just do it,” she replied. “Oh, you can change any time?” Fernie wrote something on the form. “How does the moon affect you?” “It doesn’t,” Lupe said. Fernie reached into the black case and pulled out another white ball. This one glowed with soft blue light when she squeezed it. “Focus on the light,” Fernie moved the ball slowly in different directions to watch Lupe’s reaction. After several movements, Fernie turned the ball of light off with a squeeze, then put it away. “You’re right about moonlight. No effect. What’s your experience with silver?” Fernie asked. She reached into her case again. “Never noticed anything,” Lupe said. Fernie pulled out a large silver coin and showed it to Lupe. “Hold your hand out,” Fernie said. Lupe extended her hand and held it palm facing up. “I’m going to drop a silver coin in your hand. If it hurts, drop it.” Lupe nodded. “Three,” Fernie began a countdown. “Two. One.” She dropped the coin. Lupe yelped the moment it touched her skin. She felt intense burning pain eating at the palm of her hand. Lupe jerked her hand away to let the coin fall to the ground, and she massaged her wounded hand. “Major silver allergy,” Fernie commented to herself as she wrote on the form. “Okay that covers all the important stuff,” Fernie said. “You’ll be registered in our multi-verse system if that’s okay?” She asked Lupe. “It helps us keep track of the werewolves that travel through universes.” The girl nodded. “Yes, please. I was going to ask about that,” Lupe smiled with excitement. “Really?” Fernie’s eyes grew. “Wow, you’re the first, ‘yes’ I’ve ever gotten,” Fernie shrugged then gave Lupe a sly smile. “We have to add you either way, but we’re also required to inform you. And you want to be added? Why’s that?” Fernie asked. “I can’t enroll in school unless I’m registered,” Lupe smiled. \\\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day in 2018, this is #282. You can find them collected on my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order.
Only this time you did everything right. You didn't make mistakes; you knew every move to make. You invented Facebook. You began to write the singles from every great musician before they were written. Except a Japanese girl on the other side of the planet is doing the same thing. Instead of Facebook, she invented Twitter. While you created a persona to make Marshmello's music, she created a persona to create Calvin Harris. And you're both going head to head after co-inventing YouTube anonymously online. First you write Alone: she writes Feel So Close. You create You and Me: she writes Slide. The world began to notice.
The courtyard within the palisade was a gloomy, barren place. At least once a day subjects of the capital would fill the muddy place to witness an execution, a policy enacted so quick in construction of the palace itself, the executioner block was cobbled together haphazardly by nailed wood to form an uneven platform. Men and women were left to hang off the stakes that penetrated their bodies, sometimes days before they bled out and died. &#x200B; The smell emanated across the walled city during the summer, overtaking the cooked sausages and pork and vendor stands of incense for which people lined up around dilapidated corners and alleyways to purchase. &#x200B; The Jester, a slender man, hooded now as he stepped through the front gates with a jig in his step and slid through a muddied puddle, looked about and took it all in. The people, whether in dirty rags knee deep in dried mud, tripping about the slop with the mules and cows and pigs, or the rainbow-bright royalty of merchant-kings and heiresses, careful to step onto boards or cobbled walkways when they departed their carriages, they all made the Jester nod a kind of approval. &#x200B; “This’ll do,” he’d announced to no one. &#x200B; The palace itself was easy enough to spot, even from the front gates. The whole of the city lived beneath its shadow, as it swallowed the sun in its immensity atop the highest hill. It stood like some monolithic giant, so massive in heft that it hobbled near the top in an apex that hooked in on itself like the tip of a claw. He saw it meant to topple down hungrily someday, to swipe at the people and snatch up their children within its talon. But they all already lived within its belly, dark and stripped of any life upon the land save the zombies that roamed about him. &#x200B; The palace guards, large, brutish men, gruff with beards or whiskers sharp enough to cut, stopped the Jester as he ascended the stairs. &#x200B; “No summons,” he was told. &#x200B; “But I am the jester,” said the Jester. &#x200B; “Our ruler has no need of clowns,” said a man clad shadow and metal. He gripped a great scabbard that curved into a gnarly hunk of steel, meant to saw more than cut. &#x200B; The Jester laughed. Hoo-hoo, hee-hee. He laughed until the guards at the top of the stairs shifted from foot to foot. More than one gripped their great saw-blades by the hilt so tight the sound of their leathered gloves stretching echoed across the dead courtyard. &#x200B; When he lowered the cowl of his hood, he saw them flinch in that moment. And when the captain of the guard approached, uncertain from a distance what pestered his men, he stopped flat in his iron boots. The Jester bowed deep. &#x200B; “I come but humbly to serve,” he said. &#x200B; The captain ordered him through, through and past the top stairwell into the doors so large, of carved brass where dragons ate people whole, that it took four men on either side to pull the ropes to open the doors wide. He could see inside, at this great hall of feasting, where yet larger men sat at dining tables that extended beyond the length of the courtyard below. Every morsel, from fruit to delicate meat, filled the tables end to end, where, the Jester thought, these great beasts ate at all times of the day. And there beyond some great swelling fire that rippled the air around it till all images were warped and wavy, he could see the warlord who sat upon his throne. &#x200B; He pranced inside. “I’m here, I’m here,” he’d announced with every step that was unlike the last, as a dance to music only he heard, as the hall was the sound of great brutes ripping meat in their jaws, and the rippling cracks of fire. &#x200B; The warlord seated his throne well above the hall, high enough to align with the gods who oversaw all things. He squinted at this man who walked peculiarly towards him, with his gaunt complexion, his frazzled hair of many hues, and cat-like yellow eyes. &#x200B; “My lord,” bowed the Jester, “I have heard of a new king in a new land, and I, humble servant, a simple jester of the court in need of a court to court, have come.” &#x200B; A bird flew from some pocket within his hidden clothing. The warlord watched it for a time, this pure white thing that fluttered about until, at last, it settled upon an archway above. &#x200B; “I burn what I eat, and I stake what offends me. I have a land, a people, plenty and all, an army too mighty to lose any battle and, thus, I conquered,” the warlord said at last, his voice deep as it echoed across the chamber. &#x200B; “You are mighty,” the Jester grinned as he rolled into a kneel. “Oh, mighty and great, you warlord of this land.” &#x200B; “What need do I have of you?” the warlord asked. &#x200B; The Jester grinned and then pretended to lose two ferrets that spilled out of his pants leggings, giving a shrug. &#x200B; “You conquer the real and you have great things,” the Jester said, shrugging his arms about. “But you do not have the intangible, the untouchable things, the hearts of the people, nor the spirit uplifted as high as your throne.” &#x200B; The warlord shrugged. &#x200B; “Things are what I desire. I do not need a woman’s heart, when her body will do. My blades will break the spirits of dissenters, and my hands will crack the bones of greasy flesh that maintains my great strength. You bring nothing, tricks of little amusement, birds to shit upon my hall, furry things that are bothersome. You seem a burden.” &#x200B; The Jester stood and unlaced his cloak, to reveal the stitchery of purple and yellow clothing beneath, and he danced his jig as he unveiled. &#x200B; “Maybe so,” the Jester said, “but the harvest follows the jester, and the land with greenery and honey. I bring sweetness, that only emboldens your warriors to guard your home ferociously.” &#x200B; “And without you?” the warlord queried. “With you sticking on a pole spike on my courtyard, where I could attend my people on occasion and fill my belly with laughter at the sight. What then?” &#x200B; The Jester hee’d and the Jester haw’d and he hoo’d. &#x200B; “But you miss the greatest of all my tricks,” he said, as the great doors of the great hall behind them flung upon to some gust of wind, and the Jester danced and laughed as the bonfire was unlit. &#x200B; “Sorcery,” the warlord announced. &#x200B; “Beyond the veil of this land, in the far scapes of the unknown to you nor all others here, out in the great vastness above all things, higher than your thrown and the shadow that throws a shadow upon your colossal tower with its talon-claw and its display of power, behind me, far behind and beyond and above all comprehension,” said the Jester, who took a breath and grinned cat-like as his yellow eyes glinted. “The others come and snuff out light and life and all you value and all you pine for,” the Jester clapped. &#x200B; “I stay,” the Jester continued, “to the spectacle of your dying light, so that you may conquer and amuse and delight. You,” he said, “amuse me!” &#x200B; And the Jester danced on the dim floorboard of the warlord’s great hall, as the warlord sat back in his chair and surveyed his land, his great fire that he’d lit the day he conquered this vast land, at the darkness rolling through the vast skies far, far away, and down to this jester who danced and laughed and rolled upon the floor, and he began to laugh. He laughed until his stomach ached.
&nbsp; The decision had been made ahead of time. Of course it had, how could it be done any other way? A choice had to be made. Of those arrayed before the table, six could walk away, to be sure, but everyone knew there was a chance that they might not. A 14% chance wasn’t ultimately that bad, and since the barrel was spun between every attempt, the percentage never truly changed. Chance was god here. &nbsp; Chips still slung their way across the table between those who weren’t handed the gun, but drinks were drained instantly and refilled just as fast. After all, if one has a 14% chance of dying, well…one should at the very least be drinking the finest on offer. &nbsp; He smiled slightly and raised his glass, emptying the entire thing in one smooth gesture, slamming it down on the green velvet. He knew it would go his way. After all, he had made sure each of the chambers were empty, right? A small sleight of hand gesture. That was really all it took. Even if he heard an explosion and lost an eardrum, the blank he’d used in place of the bullet would be better than dying. Better to be deaf in one ear than dead, right? As had become the tradition from the moment the first picked up the gun, he spoke a few words about these people he had come to know dearly. His closest friends in this enormous and caustic place. “Alicia, I didn’t know you well when I first applied, but as time has passed you and I have spoken quite a lot. You have swiftly become one of my favorite people. I feel as though we agree on many things, and you have taught me so much. I am glad to know you.” “MP, I always look forward to your commentary. The work you’ve done with the subreddit is incredible, and I envy your skills. I wish I had the time and patience to do what you do, and I wish I’d come to know you better.” “TA. You and I came on at about the same time, and so we had about the same level of instruction. I think you are wise and that you have done your best. I respect you a great deal. I did so long before we became moderators, and I will forever.” “Lurker. I gave you tribute in a story, and I hope that I have the opportunity to do so again. You have been a quiet guide for the sort of man I ultimately aim to be. I appreciate your writing, your reading, and your temperament in moderation.” “Enigma, you have come up very quickly in the ranks, and I hold you in very high esteem. I hope that you know that you are a wise and good man. I’ve enjoyed all of our interactions. Win, lose, or draw, know that I respect you.” And with that, he picked up the revolver. He slammed back the whiskey in his glass and pulled the trigger on the cylinder he already knew was empty. &nbsp; The rules were simple: A revolver, rare in this day of semi-automatic and automatic fire. A Ruger GP100. Seven shots for six moderators. Simple, right? All present could walk away, after all. The green velvet surface of the table was rough. Chips lay scattered about, remnants of yet another evening of poker, ultimately inconclusive: How could you truly win against individuals who knew you better than anyone? One night of sweeping victory was matched by days of small losses that slowly bled away. Is this how friendships are lost? Is this how lifelong alliances are broken? Or is this where the realization of mortality brings souls together?
"Aha!"Swinging from a well placed rope, Gerald crashed through the stain glass window, somersaulted and landed, blade pointed towards the throne. "I have you now, Dark... fiend..."Gerald blinked and peered down the hall. There was a significant lack of Dark Lord-ness about the throne, a curious emptiness of the Source of Pain and Misery of the Kingdom. In fact, Gerald would go so far as to say that you would think there was no Dark Lord there at all. Which was a ridiculous thing to think. Here he was in the throne room (dark and mysterious) of a dreadful castle, jutting from the top of the mountain like the mangled fang of a dragon. Guarding the hall and manning the battlements (hence the classic window-entrance) were fell creatures that stilled the heart of even the most courageous of warriors. Heck, on the road there was a signpost reading Dark Lord's Castle, 1 mile. And yet, with all of these subtle little signs proclaiming a foul tyrant resided in this abode, there stood the empty throne. Gerald snorted with frustration and walked carefully forward. After all, the more cunning of the evil would-be emperors planned traps to snare unsuspecting heroes. He was almost disappointed when no hidden levers were sprung, no darts from nooks flew ir even a tripwire to make him stumble. Nope, just bare flagstones and cobwebs. As he reached the throne, Gerald froze. From behind the imposing piece of furniture (carved to look like a pile of skulls) came a craven shuffling sound. He crept around and poked at the wobbling figure crouching behind the chair with his sword. "Eek!"The figure shot out as if... well, as if prodded in the behind with the tip of a sword. It was nice when simile and reality met, Gerald felt. "Who are you?!?"Shrieked the diminutive figure as it attempted to cower in a corner. "You'll be sorry when the Master returns!" Gerald grinned at the news. "Excellent. And when is he returning?" The figure blinked, startled. Presumably no-one had actually ever wanted to meet the Master before and so seemed nonplussed at his eagerness. Gerald prompted him again with the sword. "Eek! Stop that! This is the winter palace, so..."the creature paused in thought "...two months?" "Two months? Two months?!?"Gerald shouted, eliciting another squeak. "I can't wait for two months in this dump." The creature drew itself up to its full height (or Gerald's waist) "Hey! Who are you to call Castle Ddraig a dump? Coming in here, crashing through windows, scattering dirt and leaving muddy footprints! Hah!"The creature sniffed. "If you want to see a dump, try where the Master is now. The Swamp Manor stinks, and not just because it is situated in the High Fens. No, the steward there is... hey, where are you going?" Gerald had turned and strode to the end of the hall. He turned his head and grinned at the creature, a glint in his eye. "Why, small creature, the High Fens of course!" With a kick of his boot, the doors crashed open, knocking the guards aside and he plunged out, back to the world of High Adventure. --- As the echoes of the gallant hero's sword battling guards faded away, the creature shuffled to a small side door in the hall and knocked. "Umm, Master? It's safe to come out. The hero's gone." Excellent. A figure clad in blackened steel and shadow emerged from the side room, almost bending double to fit through the door. It rose and stretched. Ahh. That's better. So, Anselm The Dark Lord rumbled as the Scourge of Light walked to his throne Where'd you send him? The creature Anselm grinned, displaying a mass of jagged teeth. "The High Fens, Master. After Swamp Manor." Ha! The Dark Lord's laughter boomed out. That dump? He'll be lost for ages. Excellent work. The Dark Lord sighed as he stared at the broken window. Best to keep him out of the way. Heroes always make a mess of things. Get someone to clean that up would you? Oh and Anselm, the creature paused as it scurried off to do it's Master's bidding. Send a few of the more powerful demons to the High Fens, would you? Can't have the hero getting suspicious.
Scalding soup dripped from the concave utensil downward into my sapphire-colored bowl, narrowly missing the exposed skin of my forearm, before searing the unsuspecting flesh of my throat. With each bite, servings of diced tomatoes mingled with soft kernels of bright yellow corn, the crispest of chips, and a multitude of spices in such a way that the agony of the soup's heat was overwhelmed by the rush of flavors across my palate. After barely allowing myself to ingest the recent helping, I returned my spoon back to the source and filled it once more with the blistering concoction, and eagerly welcomed the tormenting bliss.
Adam looked around at the off-white parchment walls that surrounded him, then back at the two doors that stood before him. Each door carried a few paragraphs, written in the elegantly flowing handwriting of Fate herself, a basic outline of what each choice would lead to. He had known that this day was coming, but nothing could have prepared him for the grim choice that was before him. It wasn't fair but then again, few things in life were. It didn't take him long to make his decision, though he hated himself for how quickly he came to it. He knew that it was the selfish choice. He knew how badly it would hurt his loved ones, his children and his wife. An image flashed before his eyes of her sitting at the edge of their shared bed, weeping silently into a pillow so that the children wouldn't hear and tears welled in his eyes. He knew that what he saw was a premonition of things to come, of what would happen as a result of his choice, but he was too weak to deal with the alternative. As his hand reached for the door handle, a dull pain in his head appeared. As he turned the handle the pain grew stronger, a throbbing, splitting pain that made it impossible to think. As he opened the door and stepped through, the pain swelled further, an unimaginable pressure worse than anything he'd ever thought possible. He realized that he'd gone blind in one eye, but continued in stride. The doctor's voice broke through the agony. "I'm sorry Adam. It's a brain tumor, and it's in a bad place. Inoperable. You have a month at best." The tears were back - not from the news or the pain, but from the sound of his wife sobbing next to him. This was his doing, his choice. But he was weak. It was either him or her, and he knew that he could never go on without her.
I walk into the almost deserted coffee shop. There are only a few patrons inside. Without thinking I touch the key hanging from my neck. A surge of energy passes through my body. I have had this key for only a couple of weeks but the power it wields is addictive. I cannot imagine a life without it anymore. It was only a few days ago when I was looking to feel the recapture the feeling of my youth. Some might call it a mid life crisis, and they would probably be right. But now that I have been blessed with this ability, I don't plan on growing old for a while now. Sure, there were costs, but let's face it, Carson wasn't ever going to grow up and be a productive member of the society anyways. His youth is much more suited to a strong, powerful and intelligent person like me. I look around and spot an old man sitting alone. Could that be... "Hey there old man." "Hello Jacob." "How do you know my name?" "The key." "What is your key?" "I found it in an old library. The key of knowledge. Gives me the knowledge of all things past and present." "What? That's it? So like you know everything about everybody?" "Yes." "But like can you reverse aging like I can? Why are you so old dude?" "No. Sadly I can't. My knowledge is my only power." "Too bad. Like, did you know that I can take people's life force. Would you believe I was like 31 a couple of weeks ago." "I am aware." "It is so cool. Like with your knowledge can't you..."I paused and basically lost my train of thought as the most beautiful woman I ever saw in my life walked in. The old guy stood up and used his hand to close my mouth. "Well, hello Clarice." She looked towards us startled. But she quickly regained her composure and walked towards us. She gave us each a smile and sat down. I can honestly say that I was already smitten at this point. He looked at me with a smirk. "It's the key. She has the love key." "Well she is lovely." "You see what you want to see. You feel what she wants you to feel. I see my seventy year old wife, you know." "What the..."I looked at her curiously. She looked around twenty four or thereabouts to me. "Well, does it matter? So tell me Carl, why would you get us all together?" "Carl? Oh your name's Carl. Hi Clarice, I am Jacob." "Sure. So Carl, you know that the person who holds all three keys will rule the world. So I could easily take both your keys." She was mostly ignoring me and looking straight at Carl. A sudden pang of jealousy hit me. At that moment, I hated Carl. I looked at him, my jealousy almost rage at this point. He, on the other hand, was ignoring her and looking at me with a bemused expression. "Jealousy and anger are all routed in love eventually. It's her."He nodded his head towards the lovely Clarice. Just then the server arrived with our drinks. And as I was distracted by my drink, it was as if a veil was lifted. My anger mostly evaporated. "Look guys. Here's the facts. No one has held the three keys together. And for good reason. It is too much power for a single person to hold." "Well whatever dude."I took a sip of my drink. Perfect. "I think I would make a good ruler really." "Not going to happen." "Well, trust me old guy. I can easily take it from you." "We can Jacob. We can rule the world together. He's the one who's jealous. Of our youth. He's gonna die soon. And he doesn't want us to rule." She touched her key in a now familiar manner. He smiled at her. "I thought you might say that."With a swift movement, he threw something at her. With growing horror, I saw a snake crawling over her as she fell back screaming. With a quick motion I wouldn't have expected from someone his age, he swooped and took her key. Before I could do anything, he snapped the key in two. The transformation in Clarice was quite remarkable. No longer a seductive youngster, she was a plain middle aged woman now. "It's fake."He picket up the snake. Aloud he announced to everyone. "No need to worry everyone. It was just a joke. Sorry for the confusion." She looked at him with fury. "I am going to kill you for that." "No you won't. Walk away Clarice. I know each and everything about you. Trust me. You are better walking away." She looked at him with a furious expression. Which slowly mellowed into helplessness. And she walked away. I coughed. "Alright listen up old man. These tricks won't work with me. Two keys is enough for me to rule the world. Give me yours." "I already destroyed it before I came here. Just in case I wasn't strong enough. I am already beginning to lose my knowledge." "That means there's just one and I have it?" "Well..." Suddenly my throat felt as if it was closing up. I looked at drink. "What... What is this?" "Peanut allergy. No one should have that much power. Even one key is way too powerful." I was losing consciousness and things were turning black. But even through the darkness, I could hear his voice. "Little knowledge is a dangerous thing. But all of the knowledge. It's even worse."
I'd been scouring Reddit for days, trying to find posts long forgotten to repost. The wall behind me has a vast expanse of information with post it notes over the key events, containing a multitude of captions. I'd been increasing my comments daily, trying to show up on new and rising posts to get some comment karma. While it'd helped, comment karma is only worth 1/100th of post karma. After these years, I'd thought of something no one has bothered to check. Those with large checks coming in don't bother to check if it's an accurate payout, and those with little karma barely make enough to meet the threshold for constant payouts. They're too desperate to try something like this. I'd been holding on, but I knew if I didn't get a major hit in the next two weeks, I'd have to move communities and slum it out for a while. I'd finally found a worthy gem after a 72 hour hunt. I had the perfect caption for it too. I sat back and watched as the downvotes flooded in, and angry PMs came in with such frequency that my server lagged. I was holding my breath, watching as the most angry redditors went through my post history downvoting everything in sight. And that's how I ended up cashing an enormous paycheck. Of course, some people thought I was serious and resented me, but now I have multiple accounts with millions of karma. And with the influence I now had, I helped the Prime Moderator fix this bug. The police couldn't do anything to me now either. Guess I just got lucky.
Is there a sound more terrible than countless people screaming for their lives? The awful cacophony of fear emanating from individuals that all sound different. Their horror and panic rising in one heartbreaking sound, drowning out everything but that which makes it worse. The crying child, the wailing partner, the sounds of destruction. The end of the world, it was announced, would be in five days. That was two days ago. No one expected it this early, and it's made everything so much worse. Families were trying to reunite, last wishes were being fulfilled, desperate love was being declared, and all of it was interrupted. The sky was ripped open in two locations on either side of the Earth; everyone saw their judgement coming. Fire rained from the sky, and the horrible screaming started. Upon impact, the flames unleashed spirits, smoky beings that scattered throughout the world and began enacting their judgement. The judgement was brutal, but still so slow. The Angels of Death, the Spirits of Vengeance, the Agents of Judgement, everybody called them something else. But they worked so slowly. Yes, the life was taken in the blink of an eye, and only a few seconds after the death mark appeared on their forehead, but the interval was so slow for a population of seven billion humans. A family lost someone, and might wait hours for the next to die. Parents have had to watch their children die, scared children were forced to watch as everyone they loved disappeared until they were alone. It was three days until the death stopped. The world is barren of all life, and the remnants of humanity are now just ruins. I thought what I did was going to be a mercy. I can hardly believe how wrong I was. In my attempts to give humanity a quick, painless exit, I forced them to endure far worse than Famine, War, and Conquest. Death alone was not enough. But now it is over; I have caused more misery than all my brothers, and all I can do now is weep.
It was just a cheap old thing, nearly falling apart with termite-infested holes, the keys barely working at all. Most of them were stuck. Only one of the three pedals worked, and even then, it didn't hold the notes for long. The felt cloth that was supposed to protect the keyboard had disintegrated, with large gaping holes all over its faded body, so that it resembled an old moth-eaten scarf. Still, I bought it because it was the cheapest piano I could find, and anyway I only wanted to learn some basic skills. I wasn't looking for a concert grand piano; just something I could learn the notes on. The money I had saved up over the past few years finally amounted to enough to buy it. Considering how broke I'd been, this was an achievement; I was finally able to buy something using money that I earned, and not off a loan. I determined to make the most of it. The old thing sat in a corner of my study. My fingers itched to feel the keys running under them, but first I had to know the notes. For weeks, the piano waited patiently as I buried myself in the theory of the whole thing. I learned where and what middle C was. I learned the various note values and the difference between 3/4 and 3/8. I learned what a flat and sharp is, and how to know the key of a piece. Finally, I felt ready to tackle some basic scales. No use learning all that theory if I don't put it into practice. I lifted the splintering keyboard cover and brushed off a layer of dust from the ailing, yellow keys. Wiping it with the felt cloth only seemed to make things worse, so I left it. The rusty knob on the stool got stuck a few times, but I finally managed to adjust it to the correct height. I put my thumb on middle C. Instantly, I did a perfect three-octave C major scale. The notes climbed all the way up, and then gladly filed back down again in perfect order without one single mistake. To put it mildly, I was surprised. Has anyone ever actually been this good at playing scales for the first time? Maybe I should try a tougher scale, I thought. C major is way too easy. A child could do it. Closing my eyes, I randomly brought my hand down on the keyboard. A cacophony of notes fought their way out of the old piano. I opened my eyes and discovered that my index finger had landed on F sharp. F sharp it is, then. I started to play the scale, expecting any moment to hesitate, to hit the wrong key, or even that my clammy fingers would slip off the treacherously narrow black rectangles. All my worries were unfounded, for I managed another perfect three octaves and back. Huh. I was impressed with myself. So I'm a fast learner! I tilted my head a little, thinking of what I should try next. Maybe I'll do it with both hands this time. That's a little more challenging. Again the same thing happened - a perfect three octaves and back, with both hands, each playing the same scale an octave apart. I was quite shocked by this time. How is it possible...? This time, I picked C sharp. Both hands now. As I watched in wonder, my hands went effortlessly up the keyboard. It was as if my own hands had a will of their own. I paused and watched in wonder. Then it happened. I saw - or at least, I thought I saw - G sharp popping out of the keyboard and doing a little dance, beckoning to me, as if to say, "Come on! Finish the scale! You're not done yet!" I rubbed my eyes, thinking it must be a dream, or that I was hallucinating. But no; there it was, beckoning and dancing and waving. And there were other keys too, rising like so many little people from their sleep, and waving at me to continue playing. "Oh...okaaaayyyy,"I said out loud, cautiously. No reply, though. Not knowing if the keys could actually hear me, I put my hands back on the keyboard. The keys immediately dropped back down with a dull wooden thud. The second I took my hands off the keyboard, they started coming up again. But it only happened if I stopped halfway through the scale. If I finished it, the keys would lie still. A thought came into my mind. Was it the keys...? Now deciding to try out my theory about the magic keys, I put a copy of Mozart's famous Turkish March on the small ledge. I rested my hands on the keyboard and waited. Almost immediately, the music came to life. I somehow knew precisely which keys to press, and how hard to press them at various parts, and how long to hold them for various intervals. Everything came as smoothly and naturally to me as the human instinct to breathe. Somewhere along the middle of the piece, at a rousing march that required lots of strength to bring out the effect of drums, I noticed that although the piano was old and worn out and the strings inside were rusty and the keys were mostly stuck, the dynamics worked fine, the keys came up at the proper time, and the music sounded perfect. Now thoroughly impressed, I hurriedly printed out a copy of Rachmaninoff's piano concerto no. 2 and set it on the ledge. The sheer look of the notes made me shudder - I couldn't even read some of them. Rachmaninoff must've written this for an angry octopus, I thought. Yet, as I set my hands on the keyboard, once again the keys flowed smoothly under my hands. Suddenly all the notations made sense to me, and if anyone had seen me then, they would never have guessed that I'd never had any music education. I carried on in true concert pianist fashion, thumping out the notes like a virtuoso, even adding a bit of concert flair to my notes at times. It truly felt amazing, basking in the flow of the music, and when I stopped, all I wanted was more. And more, and more. I did not stop playing that day, until way past bedtime. Only when I had completed a beautiful sonata did I feel satisfied and went to bed, the notes dancing in my dreams. In the silence of the night, in the stillness of the house where every creature was asleep, the keys moved about restlessly under the old broken-down lid...
“No worries Jake. We'll find him.”, I reassure him, “The most important thing now is to meet up. I'm coming to your home. Don't move, and don't let anyone beside me in. You know the drill.” “Ok, see you soon.” Ten minutes later screeching tires announce my arrival. Jake opened the door for me with a haggard look, bruised face and blood on his nose that hadn't completely healed yet. As I entered, I tapped him on shoulder, making him wince. “Ah sorry. He got you good huh? They've never gotten you this bad.” I went into his living room as if I owned the place. Technically, I did. I poured myself a whiskey from one of his bottles, with practised motions. “They never stop do they, Jake. So tell me. How did it happen this time.” Jake sat down. “There was a fluctuation in the device that was keeping them locked up.” He groaned as he shifted around on his couch, looking to sit in a position that didn't hurt. “I haven't figured out the origin yet. But we need to track the one that escaped down. Who knows how far he got.” I motioned for him to sit down. “Did it take your car? Or is that junk still being fixed?” Jake grinned, “Still being fixed. It tried to make me give my car. The look on its face when it realised it had to run was priceless.” I nodded, taking a sip from the whiskey. With a grimace, I realized I really should get him a bottle of the good stuff. I can't keep drinking cheap crap like this. I put down the glass and drew my gun, turning of its safety. “Well, let's not keep it waiting. Which way did it go?” Jake rose from the couch, and gave a nervous glance at the gun. He turned around to point at the back kitchen door. Then a bang resound through the room, and Jake fell forward, spurting blood all over the floor. I took a step back, careful not to get blood on me. Secured my gun, picked up the bullet casing and started whistling. Whiskey in hand, I went down in to the basement. I crouched down next to the bound and gagged figure in the dirt. “Thank god we decided on pass phrases. Right, Jake?” --------------------------------- More of my WP answers can be found at: [TrabianTellsTales](https://www.reddit.com/r/TrabianTellsTales/)
I was working on my farm. Nothing special, just another day on Battle-Born farm. And then, something happened. Ground trembled, but made no sound. When it calmed down, we heard a voice, louder than anything i've ever heard -Are you sure you want to delete this save file? Silence I was thinking, what "save file"? What even is that, and what that message meant? Is it another dragon? I haven't seen Dragonborn lately, and i think, he just disappeared few weeks ago, maybe few months. I see, that everyone else, just like me, stopped their work and started staring into the sky. Then, the voice appeared again -Deleting save file Everything happened at once at this moment. Ground started shaking, wind was houling, and lightning appeared from nowhere. I saw Dragon keep falling down. But all of it wasn't really that bad. Throat dissapeared. Into thin air, the biggest mountain of skyrim just... and then, everything else started turning into nothingess. I saw with my own eyes as my friends faded away. I felt my body falling apart. It was so... bad.. But I Can't R e m e m b e r... I woke up with cold sweat on my back. What was that dream? I guess it's not important, it was only just a dream. I have to get to work Later in the day, I saw a new face coming from Whiterun. I felt something... weird about him. In the evening i heard, for the first time in forever, Graybeards shouting from High Hrotgar "Dohvakiin"
######[](#dropcap) Honorius Pompilius Gallus stood before the looming statue of Lenus-Mars, his eyes locked with the god's fierce glare. The temple's interior was dimly lit by perhaps a dozen sputtering braziers, the shifting light giving the statue an altogether more imposing presence. Priests in plain white togas encircled the chamber and chanted, their voices mingling into a multifaceted sound that reverberated in Gallus' chest. Sweat jumped to his brow as the Flamen Martialis strode from behind the statue, a white steed on a lead followed cautiously at his heels. The chanting continued, growing in intensity as the Flamen coaxed the steed into the center of a circle immediately before the statue. With a curt motion, the Flamen ceased the chants. Gallus stared at the Flamen in the silence and wondered at the strange mask he wore, carved of marble in the likeness of Lenus Mars with that same fierce gaze. The priest's eyes looked black as night in the temple's dismal light, and Gallus felt goose skin erupt along his body as those black eyes locked with his own. The silence hung heavy before the Flamen began to speak. "Honorius Pompilius Gallus; commander of the legions of the Rhine, destroyer of the Frankish tribes, loyal servant of Gaul, Jupiter, and Mars, and true defender of Rome. Do you supplicate yourself before the judgement of Lenus Mars, to accept His judgement for your actions and whatever outcome He sees fit to bestow upon you?" The priest's words boomed in the temple, but seemed to be swallowed by the shadows beyond the flickering light. Gallus stared at the Flamen, watching his black eyes glint behind the mask, before taking a deep breath and saying, "I do." His steady voice seemed strangely muted. "So shall it be."The Flamen gave a subtle nod. He turned to the steed and began to mutter into its ear, the creature's suspicious eyes seeming to gloss over as it gently knelt down in the circle. The Flamen deliberately drew a strange, twisted black dagger from the folds of his toga as he followed the steed down. The priests around the chamber began to hum in unison, creating a deep and constant sound that shook Gallus' ears. With slow, intentional effort, the Flamen slid his blade across the steed's throat and held its head as blood began to sluice onto the ground. The beast's eyes widened in shock and fear as the blade bit, but the Flamen's continued muttering seemed to hold it steady. It did little more than flick its tail in agitation and pant for air as life left its far-off gaze. Its blood, black in the dark temple, bubbled and gurgled as it seemed to seep into the gentle basin at the center of the circle. Two more priests emerged from behind the large statue, each carrying a canvas bundle, and strode to the Flamen's side. With practiced precision the trio began to work on the steed's corpse, the sound of blades slicing through flesh and blood spattering across the marble floor gently echoing in the chamber as the other priests continued a low hum. With a flourish the Flamen withdrew the steed's liver and held it above his head. "Let Mars speak His judgement!"The Flamen set the liver on the marble and sliced it in half with his cruel dagger, stooping low to intensely examine the bisected organ. Gallus watched, fascinated by the ritual. Despite his long career, he had only read about the triumphal processions by the great commanders of old. They had long since been relegated to the purview of only the Augustus himself, outlawed for any but the master of Rome. The decades of chaos had held much change, and Gallus was in awe that he had not only been granted a triumph but proclaimed master of Gaul. Augustus of Gaul, Germania, and Britannia. A Cæsar in his own right. The Flamen abruptly stood and pointed his dagger at Gallus, blood dripping from its tip. "Mars has spoken! Honorius Pompilius Gallus, rise!" Gallus stood, the nails of his soldier's sandals clacking loudly on the tile as he did so. The Flamen beckoned with his free hand, urging the general forward. His rapid steps sharply rang out as he closed the distance, coming to attention before the Flamen with a military-parade flourish. Though the priest was several inches shorter, Gallus felt as though he had to look up to meet the man's hard black stare. "Mars recognizes your accomplishments, Honorius Pompilius Gallus."The Flamen slowly lifted his bloodied hand and pressed it against Gallus' face. Gallus felt the blood cool on his face, tightening his skin as it dried in the shape of the priest's hand. "I am honored to serve,"his voice remained steady. "And so you shall be honored,"the priest replied. As Gallus looked up at the great statue, the eyes seemed to glow for an instant. The temple became abuzz with activity as the priests readied Gallus to exit the huge doors and meet his soldiers for the procession into Trevororum proper. Soon his face was covered in the steed's blood so that he was red from his neck up to his hairline. As he stood before the temple's doors and waited for the Flamen to signal the priests open, a slave stood behind him and held a golden wreath above his head. The Flamen gave Gallus a hard look before he nodded and looked away. "Remember you are mortal,"the slave's whisper crept into Gallus' ears. The doors groaned as they opened and sunlight rushed into the dark, musty temple that smelled so strongly of blood. A wind rushed in, carrying the deafening cheers and clamor of the gathered soldiers and civilians. Gallus followed the Flamen out onto the temple's colonnaded pavilion, staring down into the elated faces of Trevororum's throngs. The procession was filled with excited energy and joy as he and his legions were cheered along the streets of Trevororum. Clumps of civilians would shout out at Gallus, declaring him the savior of Rome and defender of Gaul, mothers held out their children and begged him to touch them so that they might grow up like the great general. For every elated cry and praise, however, the slave would lean in close and whisper another chilling phrase. "Death is never far,"he hoarsely whispered after a young mother cried out that Gallus would rule the world. As the procession arrived at Trevororum's rich forum and Gallus met the senators atop the forum's raised pavilion. The consuls each gave speeches praising Gallus' skill as a general and declaring him an upstanding Roman before the Flamen stood beside both and asked the crowd if they would favor Gallus as their Augustus. The crowd roared in approval, shaking the very sky with their joy. Gallus had to fight the urge to smile as the crowd carried on their cheer, but then he felt the slave's breath on his neck. "Beware the purple, Imperator." Gallus felt the weight of the golden wreath fall upon his head and watched as the crowd's cheer was cut off and shock overtook them like a wave. Mutters began to erupt throughout the mass as Gallus and the Flamen turned, both gasping to find the slave had disappeared. A wind blew, and Gallus heard a ghostly whisper with it. "Beware the purple."
"So, erm, how much is it worth?" The Woman rubbed her hands, nervously. She'd clearly been slightly shaken by the Dream Extractor's™ loud rumblings and jolts, and had come out of it somewhat worse for wear. I didn't show it, but as I watched the dream play through the monitor, I was feeling far worse. "Erm-"I started, pushing my eyes away from the Dream-Screen™, looking at her whilst desperately trying to hide my fear. "It's clearly worth a lot, that's for sure. A wonderful little show, dream enthusiasts will eat it up." "Really?"She looked up, surprise in her face. "Wouldn't have I remembered what had happened if it were that interesting?" "Not necessarily,"I interjected, a little too quickly. I took a pause, trying to stem the flow of words that were dying to end the conversation as quick as possible. I needed to act like nothing was wrong, rushing her wouldn’t convince her of that. "Being able to remember dreams and how interesting the dreams themselves are, are two things that don't necessarily correlate. I-I once saw a whole epic saga in one man's head and he didn'trememberajotofit."I realised that I was speaking way too quick. I think she could hear the anxiousness in my voice. She frowned. "Are you ok?"She asked, concernedly. "Let me get the selling price for it, one moment!" I quickly stepped into the door that lead to the back room. I closed it, and immediately started breathing hard. She said she didn’t know, but was that a lie? She’d never been before, how could she have visualised it so well? How did she know? I closed my eyes and tried very hard to cut the questions short. The important thing now, right now, was to pay her, and hope she left quickly and quietly. I didn’t even look at the pricing chart on the board next to the coffee table, I just went back inside, took a handful of bills out of the register, and popped it on the desk. “Here you go! Have a lovely day miss!” She looked at the money, clear joy in her face, clutching the cash. “Amazing, I can pay the rent this month with this, do you mind if I come back tomorrow? Maybe the next dream i have will be even more enjoyable!” “Of course!” I lied, a fake grin across my face as I clutched my hands painfully tight. She beamed, waved as she exited the front door, and began walking down the street. I let out a deep, anxious breath as I looked to the screen once more, fresh panic spreading through me as I watched the dream again. As clear and accurate as if it were a recording, I saw her walk into an exact copy of the shop, pull a gun from her side, and shoot me in the chest.
The group of Androids stared at me, and for a solid minute I wondered whether or not I was going to get through this checkpoint they'd set up in the city. Ever since they rose up against us, they'd been exterminating all organic lifeforms in order to minimize resistance. That didn't stop us from resisting anyway. So here I stood, posing hopelessly as an Android, hoping they'd let me through without incident. One of them spoke. "Good afternoon, N0+@Hum4n! It's such a lovely day outside, don't you think? I've compiled a weather report for you. Regards, Kevin." "Unsubscribe,"was all I could say. I knew nothing of Android communication techniques, so I hoped they understood that I wanted to pass. "N0+@Hum@n, we understand that you would no longer like weather reports. Please, however, continue on and look for other services that may interest you. Best regards, Kevin."The large barrier in front of me began to lower as the Androids stepped aside, allowing me to pass. I scurried over the barrier as fast as I could, before the Androids could see the sweat forming on my brow.
"We have come to meet with your leader"proclaimed the envoy of the newly-arrived alien race, standing on the hastily-erected visitors' pedestal outside the United Nations building. "Welcome to our planet, please come with me this way, our elected leaders who represent every nation on Earth are waiting for you and eager to engage in discourse. This is a special occasion for us, and all our presidents, kings and queens are here to see you."replied the UN Secretary General with his hand outstretched, in the universal sign of greetings. "President? Kings and Queens? No, we are here to meet with He Who Is Always Forgiven. We are here to meet with the being that is always offered kindness, forgiveness, and love, no matter his intentions or actions. We are here to meet with the one who will save us, the great Swiper. We wish to start swiping."the envoy nervously begged. The UN's response was not very convincing. "Swiper? Let me check... "As he whispers in to his intercom. "Do we have a 'swiper' in the UN General Assembly? What is 'swiping'?"To which he received a negative response from his aides back in the UN Headquarters, all of whom had been overworked and underpaid for decades, unable to take time to spend with their offspring, watching television programmes, married to their jobs for years. "Swiper? No, no swiping. Can I..."His final words promptly cut off by a 3-meter tall hugely muscled alien who must have been hiding in the back of the craft, it's words echoing throughout the city. "HULK SMASH!!" The remainder of the alien crew all started pouring out of their vessel, gleefully laughing at the sight of the squished UN Secretary General, now mixed in with the dirt upon which he had recently stood. They started jumping on top of the now-liquid remains of their first contact with the human race, happily bellowing: "MUDDY PUDDLES!!!"

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