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[WP] You are being paid greatly to teach a class on morality and ethics, but, the class is comprised of wanna-be serial killers and kin of prior successful serial killers. The goal was to deter the desire to kill and instill a greater sense of purpose. You have your own ideas.
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"“Alright mother fuckers listen up and answer fast. What you have in front of you is what exactly?” I barked from the front of the classroom \n\n“That’s a draganov, Mr.Azazel” Tony Manson smirked. He has the brains of his old man and looks like him too. He could be a serial killing mastermind if he tried harder and that’s exactly what I planned to do. Push him harder. Matter of fact, push everyone in this room harder.\n\n“Correct. Now boys and girls, first to field strip it, put it back together, load it and kill that man down there,” I said and pointed down the dusty desert road about two hundred meters away where a soon to be dead FCC chairman was being crucified down the road, “, wins a prize of keeping the draganov and all the ammunition here. Start... Now.” The rag tag group of serial killers in front of me flew to work. There were only 3 of them at today’s ‘rehab’ group. Tony Manson, the son of Charles Manson, was obsessed with the group. He was becoming my personal hitman bit by bit. Not to mention he was an excellent shot. Next was Caroline Cruz, daughter of the zodiac killer, she sat there and didn’t know where to begin, she can take anyone in hand on ha- crack! I looked down the shooting range and the chairman’s head was spattered on the wood and the gas soaked wood started fire, disposing of the body. The last boy left their was Lee Harvey Oswald II. Just like his father he knew a sniper like the back of his hand. Yes he would do for tonight’s escapade at the US embassy in Germany. “Oswald, pack your backs we’re flying to Berlin tonight”\n\nComments would be extremely appreciated! :)"
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[WP] Grandma is a witch, but that's just what the Roaches say. They tell me I ate grandma for a good reason.
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"\"Shut up!\" Whispered Jasper, his antennae twitching nervously.\n\n\"Oh come now, don't tell me your scared.\" Said another, slightly darker cockroach.\n\n\"Shut up Sebastian!\"\n\n\"Is that all you can say? My my, it's so fascinating to see this side of you old friend.\"\n\n\"Shut up! I'm not scared I'm trying to make sure they don't find us, and stop calling me that. I'm not your friend!\"\n\n\"Oh? But we've known each other for so long. Surely you -\"\n\n\"Uh guys, I don't think this bickering is helping.\" Whispers a young woman, licking the cracks between her teeth trying to remove a particularly persistent piece of flesh.\n\n\"Your right of course Angela. What do you think we should do?\" asked Sebastian cordially.\n\n\"Who cares what this bitch thinks! She's just going to fuck things up for us!\"\n\n\"Hush Jasper! Do not insult our lady again, or I will personally remove your exoskeleton and hang it on my wall!\"\n\n\"Guys! The bickering! Stop it!\" \n\n\"Ah, I apologize my lady. I got caught up in the moment, forgive me.\"\n\n\"Your forgiven\" Said Angela, still whispering. \"Now try to see what their doing.\" Sebastian crawled out of the closet through a small hole in the door. \"What do you see?\" \n\n\"Hmm, it's not good my lady. They're still where they were an hour ago.\"\n\nAngela peered out through the small hole in the door and saw two men in dark blue uniforms standing over the mangled corpse of her grandmother. They dressed like cops, but they weren't cops. Sebastian had told her that and he could be trusted, unlike her grandmother. \n\nJasper crawled up her arm and onto her shoulder trying to see out the small hole. \"Heh, stupid bitch! Got what she deserved.\"\n\nAngela took pause at that. She didn't think Nana deserved any of this. \"If only she hadn't lied when I confronted her.\" She thought to herself. \"If only she'd given herself an out. Sebastian told me what you were, what you would tell me when I asked you about it, and what I'd need to do if you denied it.\"\n\nThe men in blue were talking to each other but they were to far away to be heard. \"I'll try to get closer.\" said Sebastian as he scurried towards them. As Sebastian approached Angela heard one of the men yell. \"Ugh gross.\" She heard it loud and clear, just as clear as the crunch that followed. Angela's eyes widened.\n\n\"Ha! Well what do you know, he got squished. A whole year of life and it all ends with him getting squished! Now that's fuck'n funny!\" \n\nAngela could barley hear Jasper over the sound of blood rushing to her head. Sebastian was her rock, her trusted friend and now, just a smear on the hard wood. A scream came from her mouth. A scream that frightened the men in blue. As they should be frightened. They took her everything, now she would reduce them to nothing. She burst from the closet hurtling towards them. One of the men raised his gun but it didn't matter. She would make them pay no matter wha-\n\nAngela saw a flash and heard a bang. She seemed to grow shorter with every step until her head hit the floor with a crack. The men stood over her repeating codes into their radios as she lay on the floor next to her Sebastian.\n\n\"Seb...ast...ian... I'm sorry.\""
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[WP] A super villain realises the amount of paperwork involved in ruling the world
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"The city was muted. Still bustling as it always had been, but in a subdued tone. Its citizens were careful to respect the new authority now that they'd been brought to their collective knees. The highest building at the center of it all was perpetually enshrouded in a thin layer of cloud, its tip lost to the sky.\n\nVetra stood looking over all she had conquered. The world was hers and everyone knew it.\n\n\"Can't see a damn thing way up here,\" Brow furrowed in frustration, she thought to herself, \"what's the point of having the best view in the city if you can't see anything?\"\n\nShe turned back toward her lavish office. The formidable, oak desk on the far side was her literal seat of power and no one was going to change that. She slowly sat down in the comfortable leather, ready to kick her feet up to bask in her accomplishments.\n\n\"Ms. V!\" The nervous voice in the intercom shattered her composure.\n\n\"Yes, Dot?\" Just barely remaining calm.\n\n\"I really have to come in there. Are you busy?\" Vetra looked admiringly at the newly cleaned desk. First time she'd seen its surface in weeks.\n\n\"Well, actua-\" The grand doors flew open as her assistant scrambled toward the oak desk in response to her own question.\n\n\"I'll only be a second.\"\n\n\"What is that?!\" Vetra leered at the two boxes overflowing with papers.\n\nDot turned around slightly, already knowing the answer. \"... from the lawyer's office. They say that they cannot move forward without signatures.\" Dot pursed her lips tightly.\n\n\"Figures, I-\"\n\nDot interrupted. \"And the lease agreement. Apparently, there was a misunderstanding between the insurance and the landlord so they drafted a new agreement needing your authorization...\"\n\nVetra's composure was barely holding as she stared blankly at her executive assistant. \"Dot... buy the damn building, then. Why are we still putting up with th-\"\n\nDot slipped in again \"That's why I brought the second box. They are willing to sell, but I think they're gouging. I brought the acquisition forms for you to review.\"\n\nVetra slumped forward on her imposing desk. Her fingers were massaging her temples gingerly. \"Why would you bring both boxes if we could've just bought the damn thing?\"\n\nDot considered this just short of a moment \"I wanted to be thorough.\"\n\nVetra looked up from her desk, one eye shut with the other looking sarcastically at Dot. \"Please, handle this. I trust your discretion.\"\n\nDot bowed awkwardly.\n\n\"What the hell?\" Vetra thought to herself as she watched Dot stumble slightly over the rug in front of the desk, stopping just short of the large doors.\n\nVetra already knew. \"What else?\"\n\n\"The Asian corridor of the city has been reclaimed by Mind's Eye.\" Dot mustered as meek a response as you can imagine.\n\nVetra slammed the desk before shooting out of the chair. \"Don't you think that's a bit more significant than fucking insurance?! I'm sitting here assuming everything is within my grasp...\" Vetra thought for a moment. \"When?\"\n\n\"Yesterday evening...\" Dot hid in her shoulders bracing for a backlash.\n\nVetra kicked the ornate desk across the room and straight out of the window. Dot's shocked eyes followed it the entire way. Vetra pushed passed Dot and strode down the hall toward the data center. Dot chased after her stammering and waving her arms wildly.\n\n\"Can't trust anyone nowadays.\"\n\nShe turned the corner to the darkened data center. A slight wave of her hand turned on the lights rapidly. Most of the analysts were caught off-guard, waiting for Dot's signal. A few rattled off a weak \"Surprise!\" None of them in unison.\n\nOne of the analysts overhead tossed a bucket of confetti overhead to cover Vetra entirely. They clung to her hair and headpiece as Dot snuck behind for a candid photo.\n\n\"Take your hands off of me! What is all this?!\" Vetra was seething through her ridiculous appearance.\n\n\"Your birthday, ma'am. Yeah!\" The analyst who dumped the confetti chimed in cheerfully, clearly not sensing the tension.\n\n\"That was two weeks ago, bastards.\" Vetra flicked her wrist slightly bringing the convulsing analyst to bear before she snapped her fingers. He disappeared from the room instantly.\n\nDot's jaw dropped to the floor as she thought, \"HR is going to have a field day with this one.\"\n\nVetra shook herself suddenly in an attempt to get from beneath the confetti. She turned on her heel heading back toward her office, \"Hold all my calls until I say otherwise.\"\n\nThe other analysts stood stunned by what had just happened. \"Ma'am... you're mother is on line 2...\"\n\nVetra stopped in stride, threw her head back and laughed insanely before continuing to her office. \"Take a message.\""
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[WP] The Universe is one big video game, and because humans are overpowered, natural disasters and plagues throughout history is God's way of trying to balance out the game.
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"\"Oh, a new update\" said Gog as he scrolled through the patch notes. \"What is this?\" He stared in confusion at the so called 'balance changes' being added to the game. Immediately, he got God on his voice channel. \n\n\"What's up\" God spoke into his mic like a dying salty 6 year old Minecraft player entering a cod match. \n\n\"'What's up?' That's what I was wondering! What's with these stupid balance changes?\" \n\n\"Whoa, what do you mean 'stupid'?\n\n\"Tornadoes? That's a stupid name for an unrealistic idea.\"\n\n\"It's not unrealistic! I proved it with science.\"\n\n\"Yeah I can see that, but it's a bit of a stretch don't you think? Actually, don't answer that. Are you serious about cancer? An 'incurable disease'?\"\n\n\"Its curable... sort of.\"\n\n\"Sure it is.\"\n\n\"Look, you're just mad cuz you're character is human and they're ridiculously overpowered.\"\n\n\"Not when they don't even have arms!\"\n\n\"Fine!\" Screamed God \"You can keep the arms. But everything else stays the same.\"\n\n\"This has to be the worst patch since you took magic out of the game.\"\n\n\"Oh you just wait. I can make it worse.\"\n\n\"Wait, you can? ... hey God ... God? Where did you go?\" Gog noticed that God disconnected from the server. \"Oh no.\""
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[WP] You are the most powerful being in the world, and now you have your house surrounded by these mortal shits with their weapons, yelling something about public safety, and surrendering unconditionally. Like hell you will!
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"I have been alive for almost 60,000 years at this point. I have spent that time as both hero and villain. I lead nations as Caesar and Vlad the Impaler. I burned whole cities to the ground, and I also helped establish the first Egyptian empire. Mortals have always been afraid once they found out what I was. They either worshiped me as a god, or banished me as a devil. Since they could not decide what I was, I decided to be both over time.\n\nI do not age, I do not get sick and I cannot die. I am strong, fast and clever. I am not a vampire nor any other mythical creature. As far as I know, I am the only one like me in a world of normal men. Mankind has only discovered my true nature a few times. Most of the time they assumed I was something evil and unnatural and would attempt to kill me, it always ended the same way. My hands covered in blood and entire populations gone overnight.\n\nI don’t remember when I was born, my earliest memories are of living in a cave somewhere in modern day Siberia. After many years I learned it was not normal for people to continue living. Whenever I stayed somewhere too long, people would get suspicious. They would age but I always looked to be in my mid-30s. I would live somewhere as one person, then disappear and become someone else. I was an immortal nomad with no connections.\n\nLiving as such can take a toll on a normal man, after several thousand years it began to take a toll on me as well. With nobody to share eternity with I became bitter and detached. I secluded myself for a few centuries, hunting and gathering what I needed. I may not be able to die, but I still get hungry and tired. The world moved on, but I remained. I would occasionally leave my self-initiated exile to see what the world was doing, I would live a normal life. From time to time I would rule a country or nation then return to seclusion.\n\nAbout 30 years ago I decided to stop living in anonymity and let the world know exactly who I was. I marched into a military base and let them know I was now in charge. They laughed until I tore out the throat of the commanding officer. They immediately went for their guns and began to fire. It was my turn to laugh as the bullets simply fell to the ground around me. I sprinted from person to person slashing and clawing. Heads fell to the ground and grown men pissed themselves. They began to scatter as the tanks rolled in. I leapt to the top of the closest tank and punched a hole in the top. Reaching in, I pulled out a clamoring young man. He begged and pleaded for his life, I let him go. I may be immortal, but I was not without mercy. I stood on top of the tank and proclaimed this world as mine.\n\nAs time went by, governments recognized there was no winning against me. I made a speech to the world proclaiming myself the sole ruler. They still occasionally try to attack me with new weapons to see if anything works, I still laugh as nothing happens. The town around my domicile has been attacked several times over the years. I guess that is what all the noise outside is about.\n\nLooking out of my window I see about 200 people standing around my house. Not military, but average people. They are all armed and yelling at me to surrender or move, something about the safety of the town. I guess they are tired of the town being attacked because of me. Now that the world knows who I am there is no more escaping, there is no more moving. I will not surrender, I lived my life in exile for too long. The people have begun to throw torches at my house and opening fire on me. I am tired of this, they always fear what they do not understand. They always kill what they fear, until now.\n\nI step outside and the crowd goes silent. It was lonely living in exile knowing all of humanity was out there living and being happy. Maybe solitude will be easier once I know they are all dead."
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[WP] Humanity is wiped out in similar fashion to the dinosaurs, by a huge asteroid. Everyone on the planet dies, except you, but you have no idea why.
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"Dear diary, \n\nDay 1\n\nWell... to be honest, I think it's pretty strange for me to be writing to you today because everything was up in flames when I woke up this morning. No, really. Like I honestly can't find anyone that I know. Well, I can't find anyone alive anyway. I always thought this kind of a doomsday might be kind of cool... but now that it's here I'm not so sure. I just can't shake one thought out of my head: \"why am I still here even when no one else is?\" \n\nDay 2\n\nI made my way around the town. The fires have died out on their own. Like everything else, I guess. Well, except for me. My once-posh town is dilapidated. I feel like I should be freaking out a lot more than I currently am, especially after seeing various extremities strewn on the sidewalk on my way back home. But I guess I'm just in shock or something. I don't really know what to think and I just can't get that damn question out of my head. \n\nDay 5\n\nI've been surviving on the food that I already had in my house. Since I always dreamed about a zombie-apocalypse sort of situation I stocked my place up with non-perishable foods. They should last me awhile but I've been rummaging through my neighbor's houses to expand my stockpile. The toughest thing so far has been finding water. I have bottles for now, but I'm not sure what I'll do when I run out. \n\nDay 10\n\nFuck this. I am so sick of how quiet everything is. I'm used to listening to the sound of children playing outside, dogs barking, talking to my family. God, why me? I miss them too much. Why did you have to take everyone and everything that I loved away from me? Why didn't you finish your job and take me too? \n\nDay 23\n\nI hear voices in my head. My mother's voice usually. I'm sharing this with you because I'm afraid that I'll go crazy if I don't write down when I started hearing things. THE VOICES AREN'T REAL. I AM ALONE. I need to remember that. \n\nDay 29\n\nI've been leaving the house less frequently over the past few days because I hate being reminded that there's nothing out there. But the voices are talking to me more frequently. I've been letting them in because I'm so afraid of being alone. BUT I AM ALONE. REMEMBER THAT. DON'T GO CRAZY. \n\nDay 38\n\nWater is running low. I ventured out again today. I said \"hello\" to Trudy's body today. She's mostly decayed at this point. I don't know why I said hello to her, but it seemed like a nice thing to do. Maybe I'll be able to work up the nerve to talk to her a bit more later. I always thought she was beautiful. \n\nDay 52\n\nTrudy moved in with me a couple of days ago. It's been great but I'm surprised that our relationship is moving so quickly. She doesn't say much but she's a great listener. Oh! My propane camping stoves finally ran out of fuel so we had to eat cold, canned ravioli but she didn't complain about it even once. Trudy is a special girl. \n\nDay 108\n\nTrudy has been losing a lot of weight and I'm beginning to worry about her. She looks like she's just skin and bones now. Also, I've been out of food for three days. I know I told myself that I wouldn't go crazy before and luckily that's been going great so far. I have decided that I'm probably not going to try to find more food for now though since I think Trudy may be showing me that she wants me to lose some weight. That Trudy, she's such a delight but she hates confrontation. \n\nDay 143\n\nI haven't eaten or drank water in 38 days. I'm very confused about why I'm still alive. I've been talking to my mother more frequently and she's been dealing with the changes in our living conditions well. Although, now that I look around, it looks like everything is back to normal. It really is amazing how quickly everything was able to be rebuilt. I told her about Trudy yesterday and she said that she can't wait to meet her. \n\nDay 157\n\nMa and pa came to visit me yesterday. They looked well. We all had a delicious dinner that was prepared by Trudy. She's been gaining weight again and looks as beautiful as ever. \n\nDay 183\n\nI ran out of rations so long ago, so why am I still here? Things have been going really well with Trudy. She has been talking to me a lot more and to be honest I'm surprised I wound up with such a great catch. She's a total babe. \n\nDay 361\n\nTrudy and I got married yesterday. We were surrounded by all of our friends and family. It was wonderful. I found it a little odd that there was no food though. As a matter of fact, I can't remember the last time I ate. \n\nDay 467 \n\nWhile I was out exploring the city with my love, I slipped and fell out of the 13th floor of an old business building. For some reason I was fine. Quite peculiar. Although, now that I think about it, nothing in my life has ever injured me. As far as I can remember, I've never even been sick. Trudy and I have been trying to have kids, ma has been pestering us for grandchildren. \n\nDay unknown\n\nI've lost count of days but I just found my old journal so I figured I'd give it a quick update. Our son Tom is off to college now! Can you believe it? Feels like just yesterday he was a little boy and now he's headed out on his own. I'm so happy! Although, something I do think is odd is that I really don't think I've aged one bit. Trudy has grown older but I still look the same. \n\nDay unknown\n\nTrudy, my dear, sweet love has passed away. My heart feels heavy. This has been the most painful moment of my life. But now that I think about it, my life has been quite strange. Just yesterday I caught a glimpse of my reflection and nothing has changed. \n\nDay unknown\n\nI'm not really sure why I write \"day unknown\" but it seems like a good way to keep my entries separated. Anyway, I tried to kill myself in 14 different ways and nothing worked. I am so alone. I miss my dear Trudy. \n\nDay unkown\n\nI was out yesterday and bumped into kind woman named Carly. I think I'll ask her out. \n"
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[WP] You're friends with the greatest inventor in the world. She could solve all the world's greatest problems in a week, if only she could be persuaded to work on the same thing for more than half an hour.
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"*Late to the party, but here we go...*\n\nOh, Mindy-Jane Cindy Blaine Lindsey McCrea, \n\nWas a terribly talented lass,\n\nAn inventor, who’d enter her shop every day,\n\nPonytail, with hairband, held fast.\n\nIt was there that she’d tinker. A brilliant thinker \nShe was, blessed with brains filled right up to the brink; her\nastounding IQ – at least one-forty-two – \nPut her right at the top of her class.\n\n \n\nThe pride and the joy of her long-deceased father,\n\nWho always did call her the ideal daughter,\n\nShe’d stand at her workbench and hammer and solder\n\nThings that would make Edison’s eyes start to water. \n\n \n\nThere was only one problem though, I must admit\n\n(But she never did like to be told). \n\nI’ll explain: Never mind all her knowledge and wit,\n\nHer attention was that of a fish coloured gold.\n\n \n\nThough genius she was, her focus was null.\n\nAnd ‘twas really quite tragic, you know.\n\nFor she’d pour all her heart into making a start,\n\nBut for just 30 minutes or so.\n\n \n\nFor instance, she once had a foolproof plan\n\nTo eliminate hunger for good,\n\nWith a series of pipes, each with 10-acre spans,\n\nTo pump synthesized food just as fast as they could\n\nInto warzones and shelters, ‘twould zip helter-skelter\n\nThrough cities and small neighbourhoods.\n\nAnd she made it her stint, and she sketched out a print,\n\nAnd was drawing and sawing some wood,\n\nWhen a half-hour in, she assumed a big grin,\n\nAn idea crept into her head. \n\nDust still hovering among her,\n\nShe said “Forget hunger,\n\nI think I’ll cure cancer instead!”\n\n \n\nPoor old Mindy was clever, but still she could never\n\nHold onto a contract or deal. \n\nEvery chance would fly past her,\n\nEach person who asked for\n\nHer service would see the plan keel. \n\nBusiness owners and pastors and circus ringmasters \n\nRequesting machines to bathe seals\n\nWould hear of her fame, rush to look up her name, call her lame when her vice was revealed. \n\n \n\nWell this went on for years ‘fore she broke into tears\n\nAfter several beers at the bar. \n\n(I had taken her out when I heard of her doubt,\n\nPlus I owed her for fixing my car.)\n\n \n\n“Listen, Mindy,” I said, “you’ve a brilliant head\n\nFull of thoughts to compete with the best.\n\nBut you know and I know that wherever you go, \n\nSticking with it puts you to the test.”\n\n \n\nAnd she bawled, “Yes, it’s true! What’s a woman to do\n\nWith attention span short as a stick?”\n\nWell, I took a small swig and I tried to think big, \n\nWhen, *Eureka!* The answer did click. \n\n \n\n“Didn’t you,” I began, with a wave of my hand, \n\n“find success in repairing my Kia?”\n\nAnd she nodded, “So what? It was only the clutch.\n\nTook 10 minutes.” “Well, there’s my idea…”\n\n \n\n\nAnd throughout the duration of my explanation, \n\nHer frown turned around to a smile. \n\nWhen I’d outlined my plan, she extended her hand,\n\nAnd I shook it. The date was worthwhile. \n\n \n\nNow Mindy-Jane Cindy Blaine Lindsey McCrea \n\nis a woman of wealth and success,\n\nAnd her shop bears a large neon sign, which proclaims:\n\nTURN-OVER TIME: 30 OR LESS.\n\n \n\n/u/TheDynamicDino \n",
"“BIOMETRIC DATA CONFIRMED, WELCOME MASTER [farts]”\n\nI winced at my username. She still hasn't changed it. I’ve been coming here every year for three years now, and she still hasn't changed my stupid username. I pulled my hand out of the rectangular hole in the wall and the door pushed itself ajar for me. I'm going to demand that she change my name again this year, and as soon as I'm gone, she's going to forget about my request. I sighed as I opened the door.\n\nInside was a mess, as usual. I heaved a small sigh, Sam had no understanding of words “disposal” and “inventory”. It wasn't that she didn't have the time nor the capability to clean up everything, it's just that she's that lazy. I stepped over a few small steel pipes to gain entry and closed the door behind me.\n\n“Oh! Johnathan! You are here early, what a surprise!” An old lady in a handcrafted exosuit stomped out of the kitchen. In-between her reinforced metal hands was a tray full of freshly baked cookies. \n\n“Hey Mrs. Williams, sorry I got here so soon” I apologised. “Traffic was less congested than usual, so the bus got here faster than usual.”\n\nMs. William waved my apology away with a flick of her right hand. “No need to apologise, I'm sure Sammy will be absolutely joyous that you've arrived much earlier than expected.”\n\nShe stomped towards a matured loveseat and swept off a coil of decorative lightings. “Come, sit,” she pat the cushions. “Have a rest while I call Sammy down for you.”\n\nShe chuckled and pressed a button on her chest. Not even a moment later and I could hear the pounding of footsteps from the floor above me. “She’ll be down in a moment,” Ms. William assured me, then trudged back to her kitchen. I turned my head to the ceiling to follow the footsteps. Was it just me, or are they heading in my general direction?\n\nBefore I could properly convince myself otherwise, a square portion of the ceiling opened up and from the heavens appeared our protagonist.\n\nI let out a sigh. Of course she would come from the ceiling, of course. Why use up precious energy going *around* the floor when you can go *though* the floor using all that useless GPE you naturally store up. After all, gravity was the cheapest force around for getting around sometimes.\n\nI followed Sammy's pilgrimage to the floor with my eyes. It was... actually kind of odd. I mean, yeah, I get that jumping through the ceiling should be odd enough, but at least when you do that, you wouldn’t disobey gravity. Sam’s plunge was kind of… slow. Her lack of velocity wasn’t really all that noticeable, to be honest. It’s just that when one has seen and experienced gravity, and when one has it rigged in his head that things fall at a certain speed, once something falls slightly slower than it should, the said person is going to think it odd.\n\nThe anomalies didn’t stop with just her drop. As she neared the earth, her plummet decreased in speed. It was more like she was being thrown up in the air, rather than being pulled to the ground.\n\nIt was very confusing, and it probably has something to do with that floating, hovering orb behind her.\n\nSam landed without even needing to bend her knees. Her back was to me, and her orb found its place lingering just above me.\n\nDid my backpack just get lighter?\n\n“Granny, what’s wrong?” Sam yelled. Her voice was filled with concern and worry. That’s a rare sight. The only times I’d ever seen such strong emotional responses from her were on my 7^th birthday, on the day her mother got incarcerated, and when she talked about it the day after.\n\nMs. Williams gave her patented chuckle and pointed to me. “That, I believe, is the emergency, dear.”\n\nSammy spun round. Her orb followed suit, and I was almost felled by the sudden gain in weight of my hiker’s backpack. She gave me a quick glance, then spun around to face her grandmother. Her orb returned to its previous position above my head and, suddenly, it felt much easier to stand up straight again.\n\n“Grandma, can you please stop misusing your emergency caller,” she ranted. “Every time you use it in a non-emergency, I get conditioned more and more into treating that as an unimportant calling bell.”\n\nThe two started on their own little domestic argument. I decided to stand out of it. Partially because I was an unrelated party, but mostly because I was more curious about the spherical thingy that seemed to follow my good friend around.\n\nThere wasn't much to it, it was just a white, round sphere. The orb's movements reminded me of balloons, it would float a little away from its owner, but then get pulled back slightly by an invisible force. Magnets? That's the only invisible force I know that could possibly pull of this phenomenon. I reached out my hand to grab hold of the orb. I wonder what happens if I touch it…\n\nThe orb suddenly shifted away from me, I've been spotted. Before I could reel my arm back, Sammy swatted it back to me.\n\n“Ow!” I cried out in mild pain. That smack probably hurt Sammy more than it hurt me, to be honest, but I couldn't care less.\n\n“Don't,” she hissed. Couldn't you have started with that?\n\nSammy looked back at the kitchen entryway to find her grandmother had disappeared. She gave an irritated growl and glared at me.\n\nAbsolutely joyous, ey?\n\n“Hi Sammy, long time no see…?” I greeted. Hopefully, a greeting was enough distraction.\n\n“You're early,” she shot back. Her gaze felt like an icy spear slowly impaling me. I broke eye contact and looked away. Guess not.\n\nShe snorted. “You must be tired from your journey,” she said. “Let me show you to your room so you can unpack.” And with that, she stormed down the hall with her orb dragging behind her. I gripped my bag straps tightly. Surprised, I will not be, if she was leading me to a huge blender.\n",
"I'm just a regular medic. But my friend? She's the greatest inventor in the world. Lost in her psyche, I often find her fiddling with her hair or playing with the cat before she can even make a proper blueprint.\n\nAs you can see, she's an underachiever.\n\nBut I had an idea! Being the most average medic in the world, I prescribed her ADHD medicine and told her to try it. Now, a month later, every problem in the world has vanished: hunger, war, capitalism...\n\nAll because my friend is the greatest inventor in the world.",
"“Morning Sadie.” I shuffled sleepily into the kitchen. My hand reached out towards the coffee machine and found a disappointing absence. Again.\n\n“Good morning Sean!” Sadie sung while her electric drill dismembered our Keurig. “Ready for a new day?”\n\n“Almost.” I mumbled and opened a cupboard where a second coffee machine (carefully placed outside Sadie’s reach) sat untouched.\n\n“Clever. Very clever.” Sadie narrowed her eyes. “I’ll remember that hiding spot.”\n\n“So what’s today’s mad science project.” I redirected her attention with practiced ease.\n\n“Oh! Oh, you’ll like this one!” She twirled a screwdriver in her hands. “It’s a food generator. You put in a bunch a food, and a bunch of food comes out!”\n\nShe demonstrated by tossing in yesterday’s leftover Chinese food into a grinding funnel. The ex-Keurig gave off a terrible screech while LED’s (of no discernible use) began flickering all over the machine. The nozzle then extruded a strange grey paste.\n\n“Right now it can only do meatloaf paste.” Sadie whispered.\n\n“Damn. I guess it’s meatloaf paste for lunch then.” I sighed. Sadie gave me a broken-hearted look as if to say ‘Sean, if you love me, you will make me a real lunch’. I threw my hands up in surrender. “Fine. I’ll cook something up. Just don’t repurpose the stove until then.”\n\n“Yay!” Her smile could’ve melted a glacier, thereby causing irrevocable harm to the global sea levels. But that was just the sort of person she was.\n\n“Sean? Sean?” Sadie was calling out my name.\n\n“What?” I tried to say, but the words wouldn’t come. The world spun and my eyes opened.\n\n---\n\n“Sean?” Sadie said to the empty room. “Sean, I’m coming for you.”\n\nShe was holding a picture of a disheveled looking man smirking at the camera. Behind it was a typed letter:\n\n MS. SALLINGER\n \n WE HAVE HIM. IF YOU CAN MEET OUR DEMANDS, YOU CAN HAVE HIM BACK.\n \n - REDUX\n\nSadie packed a second coffee maker into her suitcase and stood up.\n\n“They can’t run from me Sean. Just wait a little longer.”\n\n---\n\nContinued [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7hcp3a/wp_for_the_past_few_months_youve_gone_to_bed_only/dqqcnbb/): *For the past few months you’ve gone to bed only to wake up bruised and sore with no recollection of why. After setting up a camera in your bedroom you review the footage to find yourself climbing out the window in the dead of the night, and returning a few hours later.*"
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[WP]You're eating at a restaurant and the waitress is grating your parmesan, you don't say when.
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"The waitress placed the plate of spaghetti before me. Not a fancy spaghetti, just a simple spaghetti with a simple tomato sauce. “Would you like some grated parmesan ma’am?” She asked.\n\nI took a long look at her, a bright face full of hope for the future. I would take that from her first. “Of course.”\n\n“Say when.” She grated the parmesan, the white strands falling out like a light snow. \n\nIt brought me back to the days when I dreamed of going outside and playing in the snow. My father, the pastor for the town church, wouldn’t allow it. “There’s no snow in the Bible, it’s the work of demonic forces,” he told me. \n\nThe parmesan piled up fast, the waitress shook her wrist momentarily stopping the drizzle. “I didn’t say stop.” She continued her Sisyphean task.\n\nI put my head under the cheese, allowing it to fall into my mouth and nostrils. I could smell nothing but cheese, the smell of infinite power. As long as cheese filled my mouth I could never be coerced into saying the magic word that would end her cheesy torture.\n\nThe cheese piled ever higher, covering the floor of the entire restaurant. It grew quickly, swallowing those that dared stay in their seats rather than flee the building. The cheese broke through the windows out into the street, carrying vehicles to a cheesy demise.\n\nBy now the waitress had to hang out of a helicopter filled with cheese. “Ma’am, can I stop now?” She asked through the bullhorn. I didn’t answer, she knew I would never allow her to stop.\n\nThe cheese fell into the oceans, filling them so much they broke a hole in the crust of the Earth. The watery cheese fell down into the bowels of the planet where the mole people lived. They were soon destroyed by the tidal wave of cheese, but the surface would not be spared. The cheese must be grated.\n\nI swam to the top of the cheese, finding myself near the Sun. The boiling cheese felt good against my peeling flesh. I looked back at my former home, now a black hole consisting entirely of cheese.\n\nAs I fell into the black hole I thought of my waitress, if only she had listened to her manager during training. “Never give the customer more than three turns on the cheese grater.”",
"The plate is set down in front of me. I grin and lick my lips. The waitress smiles at me and holds up a hand grater and a small block of cheese. \n\n\"Parmesan sir?\"\n\nI nod and say \"of course!\"\n\nShe begins to grind, the powdery white cheese sprinkling over my fine meal. \"Just tell me when.\" She says as it begins to clump together on my plate. I smile and now, she begins to pull away before I say \"no no I'm sorry but that's nowhere near enough.\"\n\nShe looks down at the block in her hand, which is already half gone. \"Are you sure? Most customers-\"\n\nI cut her off \"most customers aren't me. Please madam. More cheese\" \n\nShe begins to awkwardly look around as she approaches the end of the block. The cheese is beginning to pour over the sides of the plate. She looks at me, a glint of.... was that fear? In her eyes. \"Will that be all sir?\" \n\nI shake my head. \"I never said to stop.\" I saw her stiffen. She was going to call my bluff! \n\n\"I'll be right back sir. With more cheese of course.\" She walks away and I see her slip into an office near the back of the dining room. A moment later she walked back out, a man in a white collared shirt following her out. She motioned towards me he began walking towards me. \n\n\"Sir, it is my duty to warn you that you are ruining a perfectly good-\" he begins, clasping his hands behind his back.\n\nI cut him off as well, slamming my fork on the table.\"Is this a fine dining establishment or what? She specifically said to tell her when to stop. I have not told her to stop. Therefore, there should be more cheese on my plate.\"\n\nHe sighed, and motioned for the waitress to come forward. She held a massive block of cheese this time, almost ten times the size of the original.\n\nShe heaved it onto the table, and with the help of the manager, began grating it onto my plate. I smile, drumming my fingers together.\n\nNearly five minutes pass, the dining room going silent and watching the ordeal. The cheese is beginning to pour off the side of the table. At last they reach the end of the block. The manager is sweating, but smiling like he won a bet. \"Now sir, if that will be all-\"\n\n\"I have not told you to stop\"\n\n\"Excuse me?\" \n\nI slam my fork down onto the table once again, cheese exploding around me. \"I HAVE NOT TOLD YOU TO STOP!\" I roar. \"MORE. CHEESE. NOW.\"\n\nHe flinches, turning and walking quickly towards the kitchen. With the help of the chef and the waitress, he returns, carrying a block of cheese so large I could have used it as a table.\n\nThe process began once again, taking nearly a half an hour to get through the block of cheese. The floor around us is covered, coming up to my ankles. The last of the cheese is shredded and as the manager begins to pull away he nicks himself on the grater. A single drop of blood flies through the air, landing where my plate should be. \n\nI smile, a twisted evil smile as I stare at the small red stain in the sea of white. \n\n\"Stop\""
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[WP] The five rivers encircling Hades have flown for as long as Hades has existed. Recently, they have begun to dry up.
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"Archeon. I feel her failing breath, the stolen glimpse of Oceanus's guiltless daughter. I feel the liquid lamentations dry, a lakebed sweltering in the dark. The mirror sheen bubbles away to reveal the dust and dirt, human bones blackened and bleached beneath a lightless sea.\n\nCocytus. Woe, it flows out like the rain of a summer storm, the pain that never slows. Again it falls, into my heart, out on to the grey wastes, mixing with human memories. Again, Again, until the hollow place from which it springs is damned by the wings of the gods.\n\nLethe. Indescribable, unstable, the only constant in the age of time. You forget the sensations against your skin, but it sculpts your flesh anew, tearing away the walls that bar you from a fresh day. It is the sculptor and the clay, painting itself silver grey. Invisible, indivisible, slowly drying away.\n\nPhlegethon. Burning, blazing, smoldering beneath a river of fire. Those words, immortalized as they blister across our naked lips. There, there, it is our iron souls! The remembered, the blissful, the greatest river that has been smothered by the cold.\n\nNow Styx, the mother of the monsters, the hated lover's kiss, here thee sounds, of the drowned gurgle and hateless humanity. So, so, beware oh Styx.\n\nYour time here is forewarned, Rivers of Death. There is little left for you, in this shrinking underworld. The caves are blocked, the oil that fuels you has been burned away.\n\nHumanity will never take a final breath.\n\nSo flee.\n\nGreat Rivers of the Underworld."
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[WP] By accident you discover a backdoor to the simulation/game we live in. When you access the all-time high scores, you realize what this game is all about...
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"Like any other Monday, Harry awoke ready to begin his day, Harry was a student and like every morning he jolted out of bed only to realise he wasn't late, for the past year and a half he has been an MSc candidate trying desperately to figure out why he had even contemplated majoring in physics. This morning like most others he ate his breakfast in silence washed up after himself and started his walk up to campus. \n\nContemplating the decisions that led him to this point harry eventually reached his destination, tapping his access card to let him onto the campus, only dreary thoughts entered his mind, seeing the same trees, walking up the same path to enter the science building, walking up the stairs to the first floor which where occupied by the computer science and mathematics departments up more stairs till finally he reached the physics department.\n\nHarry spent most of the day walled up in his office, which he unfortunately shared with a few other postgraduate students, not all of which were friendly or even amicable. After a few dreary comments and criticisms of his work, harry decided a break was in order. Most days he walked down a flight of stairs and through the second floor corridor to get to the back of the building where he could have a quick smoke without the judging eyes of his peers.\n\nThis day on particular he reminisced on his undergrad days, walking the same corridor with friends and peers, mocking the students who chose to pursue fields that were inferior. Now however he thought of them with jealousy, the computer science students in the prime of their lives, most had joined major programming companies, others consulting firms, the mathematicians had joined banks and investment firms, and yet harry was still stuck, at the same university, still doing research that was no longer novel and felt uninteresting. As he walked he finally noticed that the names on the doors weren't even the same, dedicated lecturers and researchers had even left, as he walked he noticed more of the names on the doors had changed. Offices had become storage rooms, lecture facilities had been upgraded and included state of the art computer labs, more often than not smaller postgraduate offices lay empty.\n\nIt was then that harry finally took stock of his surroundings, the floor seemed empty, none of the people that were there when he started at this university seemed to be there, none of the lecturers in his department where the same, none of his colleagues where there, all his friends had left and started their own lives and subsequently lost contact. His dreary day had started getting worse, but all he had to do was get to the end of the corridor, walk down the stairs and he would get the peace he needed, in the form of a cigarette and a water fountain that provided cold water all through the day.\n\nAs he walked he looked at the doors more intently looking at the names, hoping to find a more familiar one on the doors, but to no avail. As he walked he saw a door that looked completely unfamiliar, as if it wasn't there a few weeks before or even the past Friday when he walked the same corridor, it had a strange colour to it, not the same as the other doors on the floor, as if the varnish had just been applied and the handle shined as if it had never been touched. Curious as to what was behind this door, harry thought it was probably just an unoccupied office, that looked new because it was vacant and there was no longer a name on the door, it now simply said \"maintenance room\" on the plaque.\n\nHarry turned the handle on the door and pushed it forward expecting the door to require some force to open like most in the building. As he pushed on the door his body lunged forward into the room, it was as if the door didn't really hang on the hinges it was mounted upon, he regained his balance before hitting the floor and looked up.\n\nHarry was confused, he was still in what looked like a room, but the room was covered wall to wall in computer screens, with no bevel in sight, and on the screen there were names and, some familiar and some unfamiliar, hundreds of names some he recognised from all three of his years as an undergrad, some he recognised as the names of his lecturers and tutors, most were unknown to him, he then noticed in a corner of the room, a small terminal with a keyboard.\n\nGathering all his courage he walked up to the terminal on the screen was a small entry field. Harry thought of entering his own name but fear drove him to enter the name of a colleague. Within seconds all the screens around the room changed, displaying statistics and facts about one of the people he had shared an office with, the information compiled on the screens seemed way to detailed, \"Time Spent Reading\", \"Time Spent Working\", \"Time Spent On Scientific Research\", \"Time Spent Viewing Art\", \"Time Spent With Friends\", every single second of the person's life compile into a neat section. At the very bottom was a short conclusion. \n\n* OVERALL HAPPINESS:: 87%\n* FIELD: PHYICS\n* OVERALL SIMULATION TIME :: 27 years\n* OVERALL SIMULATION RESEARCH CONTRIBUTION:: Useful\n* CANDIDATE CURRENTLY WITHIN SIMULATION:: YES\n\nHarry was confused, not knowing what this meant, he searched old friends names, old lecturers names, his old supervisor, all the names he could think of that he couldn't seem to keep in contact with, all with varying results, anyone who had the last line read \"YES\", could all still be found, all these people had varying degrees of happiness, and yet a high value for scientific contribution. Those with the response \"NO\", could never be found or contacted. There were files for everyone alive or dead, within every field, whether or the cute girl at the supermarket, a file for everyone Harry new, all with varying information.\n\nHarry finally Plucked up the courage to type in his own name.\nIgnoring all the other fields of information, Harry went for the last few lines.\n\n* OVERALL HAPPINESS:: 36%\n* FIELD: PHYICS\n* OVERALL SIMULATION TIME :: 25 years\n* OVERALL SIMULATION RESEARCH CONTRIBUTION:: Useful\n* CANDIDATE WITHIN SIMULATION:: AI IS NO LONGER WITHIN BOUNDS OF SIMULATION.\n\n\n "
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[WP] In the far future, long after humanity has gone extinct alien races discover that humans were the first spacefaring race. Due to an error in translation however, they worship the various nations of earth as gods, with their own history and pantheon.
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"\"Hah! Lookkit those blathering Murican worshippers!\"\n\nTes'aku points at a group of three people wearing red robes. A bald eagle logo was imprinted on each of their clothes. \"Where ya' bloody 'freedom', wankers? Too fat from all ya' burgers to carry 'em?\"\n\nThe aliens with Union-Jack-styled dresses laughs as they fan themselves. Dalin, the youngest of the walking trio, clenchs his fists.\n\n \"Opa, why are we letting those women insult us? Those british would keep doing so if we never stop them!\" The young *amaro* lightly tugs his father's robe.\n\nThe eldest of them sighs and pats the young Dalin on the shoulder. \"Son, sometimes the best way to fight back is to retain silence. They are too proud of themselves. One day, they will realize their wrong way.\"\n\n\"What are we even doing in this place anyway, opa? It's a bad idea to walk across other cult's territory.\"\n\n Sar'qa, Dalin's brother, looks around warily. She can see a lot of eyes peeking from inside the houses.\n\n\"I have an important meeting with someone. I told you that you don't have to follow me if you don't want to.\" Opa glances back at the kids.\n\n\"Sure, because letting you go alone to a suicide meeting is perfectly fine.\" Sar'qa rolls her eyes.\n\n\"It's totally fine. I mean, what can go wro-\"\n\n\"Oi, stop walkin', ya bloody cunts.\"\n\nThe three amaro stops clod in their track. A group of thugs block their path. The biggest of them all whistles as he eyes Sar'qa.\n\n\"Well, well, lookit da' beaut! Ain't ya' a lovely cupcake. Tell ya' what, come wit' us and we'll let ya' old geezer go.\"\n\n\"You f*cking jackanapes! Why don't you go back home and drink the piss you call tea?\"\n\n Dalin steps in front of them. He flip them off with his two hands, the other two is holding two sticks that he found on the ground.\n\n\"Oh, gutsy,eh? I'll break ya' fingers one-by-one, ya' lil arseface.\"\n\n\"Hold it!\" A voice came from their right. Everyone turns to look at the source of the shout. Opa, however, was relieved when he heard it.\n\nThe thugs visibly shook as they realized who the person is. \"Ah, foking 'ell! RUN BOYS!\" The biggest thug ran with tail between his legs. The others quickly follow their leaders.\n\nA tall man steps in front of the trio. His hair is silver white, just like opa's, though he looks much older than him. His smile is filled with kindness. He is holding a cult leader's staff, explaining why the thugs flee so quickly. You would not want to mess with someone with that much power.\n\n\"It's been a while, old friend.\" \n\nOpa smiles and hugs the man in white robe. Dalin and his sister can smell a slight hint of maple syrup in the air. \"Kids, this is Kia'mar, the leader of Canada cult. And my best friend.\""
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[WP] To us, they are fictional universes. To them, they are their own worlds, connected by those walking among them who live a thousand lives.
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"A vast swath of Celestein IV's orbit was on fire, as the *Skullsplinter* coasted overhead, firing battery after battery of missile into the megapolis city that covered the surface. In the bridge, the dread Chaos Lord Nazamroth forcing the planetary governor to watch. Let the Galaxy Burn. Skulls for Khorne.\n\nIn another timeline, N'zas Mroth barked orders to his neophites on Sangheilios, as they went through training routines. The grizzled Civil War veteran rubbed his face and groaned, his Ungoyy second shaking his head in disapproval.\n\nIn Arcadia Bay, Oregon, Nancy Roth tripping on a skateboard is the most shared clip on social media at Blackwell Academy, very much to her embarassment.\n\nIn a far future timeline, AI NZRTH1755 splits an atom with his nanite swarm on a dead planet, much to his entertainment. Taking the radioactive glass, he creates a statue of a tiger, to join a bear and a ninja. \n\nIn another universe, Nazadolfmroth posts a Writing Prompt, of which OppositeWerehitler responds.\n\n",
"We worship him as we stare into the deadlights. As we make our stands. As we remember the faces of our fathers. \n\nWe open doors, waiting to see what may be on the other side. For the briefest moment, we see something. A glimmer of desert; a snow-covered resort in the mountains; New England woods. For a second, that something flashes. Our hearts race. Then it is gone. The door swings open, and it is just what we expected.\n\nWe cannot travel to those places. But he can. And he can bring these places to us, through words. We read, and we see them for just a moment. That moment changes us. He changes us.\n\nAnd our lives are never the same."
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[WP] “Sir, the species of humans is unlike anything we’ve ever seen. They are able to travel throughout the universe and even to alternate realities through a process called dreaming.”
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"\"I'm telling you\" Paul said as he rested his head in his hands, illuminated by a glow of the terminal. \"The humans of C-157 are developing the ability to travel through time and space, through a process they call 'dreaming'. They don't turn off like all the rest, this is incredible!\".\n\n\"Are you sure you didn't cheat like last time?\" Simon said bitterly, remembering the last time Paul claimed his creations had accelerated technology research by lifetimes in a single solar cycle. \"I'm supposed to believe that G-581's tabular arrangement of chemical elements just happened to be duplicated almost line by line to C-157.\"\n\n\"I'm telling you! It's the dreaming!\" Paul raised his voice at Simon.\n\n\"Shh!\" Simon snapped back. \"Are you wanting to get us killed?\" The last thing either of them needed was an excuse for their superiors to be paying them closer attention, as attention is followed closely by scrutiny, and scrutiny would be most unwelcome, given the contents of Paul & Simon's laboratory. \n\n\nOn the walls of the square white walled laboratory were an array of handheld tools, in the centre of the room were two silver coloured tables at waist height, and on one of those silver coloured tables was Bruce.\n\nBruce was 42 Sol cycles in age, male, slightly overweight and balding, and lived alone.\n\n\nTo Bruce, drifting off to sleep meant the occasional twitch in his leg, a few auditory hallucinations as he hears the odd pop in his ears, and a few vivid memories from the day gone by as he loses consciousness.\n\nTo Simon & Paul, interdimensional beings of indescribable origin, they saw something else in Bruce. When Bruce's body reached its peak saturation of the Adenosine chemical, his circadian rhythm sent him into standby mode, just like the millions of other human creations in dimensions C-157, G-581, X-114, P-209, and many others. But Bruce was different.\n\nThe humans created by Simon & Paul weren't their best work, and certainly not their most efficient creation, after all, what good is a creation if for 1/3 of its existence it needs to be turned off and charged up for optimal use every single day.\nBut when Bruce slept, he didn't simply turn off like all other humans, his mind fell beyond the dimensional plane that Simon & Paul had created. He fell through his bed, through the floor of his incredibly average urban home, and into darkness, strands of time & space passing by like rising bubbles of air in an ocean devoid of all light, before finding himself in an unclear but familiar scene.\n\n\"He's bloody done it again!\" Paul pointed to the monitors, tugging on one of Simon's arms. \"He's reached T-991 this time.\"\n\n\"Hey, get the hell off T-991, that's my humans!\" Simon snapped.\n\n\"I'm not doing it! Besides, he's a passive observer. It's the same human, but it's the T-991 human that he's observing. The entity is going about his business on T-991, but this guy\" Paul pointed directly at Bruce, lying on the table. \"This guy here, he's experiencing it. He won't remember it when he wakes up, but he's found a way to cross the void and watch what's going on, on T-991. Just like we do. Every day it's different. Yesterday he was on X-114, and tonight he's on T-991.\"\n\n\n\"What the hell is that then.\" Simon pointed to the monitor.\n\nThe monitor indicated that Bruce had taken control of the entity in T-991. Bruce had conscious thoughts that influenced an entity beyond his assigned dimension.\n\n\"He's lucid!\" Get rid of it now!\" Simon demanded.\n\nPaul huffed in resignation, and hit a button on his control panel as the monitors showed a \"Are you sure you want to format Dimension C-157, Y/N?\"\n",
"The hum of machinery wakes you from your sleep.\n\n“Good morning sir. Are you ready for your regular check up?”\n\nYou look around,collecting your thoughts. What was that just now? The sun shines,warming your soft sheets. You can hear birds chirping outside.\n\n“Good morning sir. Are you ready for your regular check up?”\n\n“Yeah,yeah.” You stretch your arms and let out a yawn,stepping out of the warm bed.\n\n“Good. Please take the medication on your table,and proceed to-“\n\nYou jolt,almost dropping your pill as a sharp screech stops the AI’s speech. \n\n“Mother? Mother are you there?”\nNo answer. Actually,you’re not even sure where the voice was coming from.\n\nFrowning,you look around the room again. Strange. You could swear that birds were chirping just a moment ago.\n\nYou pull back the translucent curtain,but your hand stops at a hard surface. The curtain doesn’t budge.\n\nLooking closely,you can see small worms slowly moving on the curtain.\n\n“What the...”\n\nThe floor suddenly lurches,as if it were jelly. Red veins slither on the walls,pulsing with energy. \n\nSuddenly,the chair wraps around my leg like a python,crushing the bone. I try to scream,but before I could even-\n\nThe world goes blank. I open my eyes,quivering,drooling from the shock.\n\n“That could have been dangerous.” I hear a voice speak through the comms system.\n\nI slowly slither out of the pulsing gray matter through the metal pipe. Wires slowly disconnect from my back as I stretch my mandibles.\n\n“We had to force a disconnection. The host noticed our incursion into its central lobe.”\nThe \n\nI look down at the subject,it’s head held in place by metal. Tubes full of chemical compounds that keep it docile and dormant. \n\n“Calculating damage. 345 sector wide incidents,3 universes collapsed. Paracausal fluctuations across the base. \nWe’ll have to wait 5 days before we try that again.”\n\n“Make that 3. Also,dispose of the room designer. We’re running out of avatars to test on and I don’t want any more relapses.”\n\nThe host twitches as I speak. It can’t hear us,but it probably feels the surge of drugs into its brain.\nWe have to keep it awake and sentient to prevent it from wreaking havoc across the universe.\n\n“Can we not create them using the flesh gate system?”\n\n“Negative. The gates are too unstable. We must reserve them for transport-“\n\nA mental ping brightens the command console. I lean down,clicking on the button.\n\n“Report.”\n\n“Sir,the death mass is increasing. Entire sectors are going dark. We have to abandon this universe.”\n\nI plug the key into the gate system. It’s veins pulse as the key transfers the data directory into it’s lobotomized brain.\n\nSlowly,the area around us goes hazy,then focused as the gate tries to remember the details around it. It’s irises dilate,steam rushes through the pipes as it processes the entire room.\n\nI sigh as I coil in the pool. \n\nWe thought we were so clever. We had snatched 3 humans from cryo pods,but the war was still at a standstill.\n\nWe were young races when we encountered them. The writhing mass of negative energy that defied physics,and screamed into the minds of anyone trying to look at it. \nWe watched in terror as it’s tendrils swallowed planets and stars. We thought it was a god.\n\nWe know what they are. And we are all the more terrified. \n\nThere was once a race that was capable of manipulating the universe through a complex chemical processes called humans. But now they are long gone,but their ‘dreams’ remain.\n\nAt first it’s strange. Some small rules of nature is bent. No one notices that water is blue now.\nThen walls twist,the sky rains fire,and voices speak through thin air.\nEverything comes collapsing down as a black,gooey substance replaces everything. Entire planets melt into pure madness.\n\nWe encountered few races that survived the onslaught. They taught us how to control the gates,lobotomized humans.\n\nBut only we remain now. The dreams of dead gods have devoured them all.\n\nI pray that we will last.",
"\"So, if we kill them, they wake up?\" Commander Tinkle replied.\n\n\"Yes, Commander Tinkle, they don't die, they just wake up,\" Private Korbis replied.\n\nCommander Tinkle thought for a moment. On the second moon of Saturn, in his high rise apartment overlooking the air intersections out his windows and the cars sitting in front of the floating stoplights, Commander Tinkle gradually began to nod to himself. He turned to look over his shoulder to find Private Korbis waiting for further instructions. \n\n\"Get me into contact with General Browski,\" Commander Tinkle said. \n\n\"What do you want me to tell him?\" Private Korbis replied.\n\n\"We'll need him to dislodge as many rock formations from the Saturn's rings and direct them to Earth.\"\n\nPrivate Korbis's eyes sunk to the back of his head. His lungs tightened as the obvious depth of Commander Tinkle's plan articulated itself in his mind.\n\n\"You want to destroy Earth?\" Private Korbis said.\n\n\"We can't kill them on our planet, they'll keep coming back,\" Commander Tinkle replied. \"They'll plague us forever if we don't deal with this now. Think about it, decades or even centuries where they could travel in and out of our world without repercussions. Every time they're stopped, they'll disappear. Every time they're killed, they'll just wake up in their bed. And, every night they sleep, they'll just reappear again. We won't be able to stop them on our turf. It's either us or them.\"\n\nPrivate Korbis swallowed down a knot of saliva.\n\n\"Contact General Browski,\" Commander Tinkle replied, \"His mission is to destroy Earth. It's the only way that we could keep them from dreaming.\""
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I have had this idea sitting around in my head. I am an Amateur writer and I have always been fascinated with Fantasy Novels, the likes of The Lord of the Rings Books, A Song of Ice and Fire just to name some of the more well known ones I have read and use as inspiration. I am currently working on what I hope will be a great book, it might not but I am trying. I have always loved this faze of creating a great character for the story, be them a villain or the hero or just some tag alone type, it is always fun to create these characters.
For this just describe what your person looks like, down to the smallest little birthmark they might bave beind their ear or if they are a Human, Elf, Dwarf, Orc, etc and what gender they are. What their weapons are; like if they are a great Knight wielding a massive Warhammer or are a Ranger with legendary skills with a bow, and also give what they have accomplished, be it slay a dragon, end a war or kill a tyrant king, to become a great warrior.
Hope you get as much fun out of writting this as I do reading them.😊
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[WP] You are a Great Warrior, describe what you look like, what your weapons are, if you have any and what it is that made you a Great Warrior
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"I didn’t get any sleep last night. I never get any sleep at night. But it is not for the reason that anything was wrong. I know to always stay vigilant. Adrenaline alone keeps me awake. I have always had someone to fight, someone to kill. There was never a waking moment I wouldn’t be putting steel to flesh. As is the way of the orcs. War is life and death, and you live by the blade. It’s been that way since the creation.\n\nBut not so last night. I waited for an ambush, a war horn, spies talking amongst themselves to be discovered by guards, something to signal that things were the way they always were and nothing changed. But alas, nothing. For once, a peace deal wasn’t used as a tactic to let the enemy’s guard down. Ar-Réver Sharptounge, the chieftain of the western tribe, the enemy tribe, kept his word. Ar-Réver, as he promised when he became chieftain, brought peace. \n\nEven though it’s only been a day, that’s more than any greenskin could possibly imagine. “Peace” has come to mean a few hours of rest, which is in of itself rare. The only rest most orcs get is from the embrace of death. But not me. I have not rested since I was big enough to wield a blade. I have not stopped fighting but for a few hours at a time, whenever there was “Peace”. I have only ever needed wine and adrenaline to keep me going. But I don’t drink in mornings, and it’s been some time since adrenaline has had reason to flow. For the first time in my life, I feel all of the wear and tear of war.\n\nMy muscles ache beyond anything else, I feel the bruises and cuts I’ve endured over the years. I’ve always had a distraction, but now nothing. Nothing hid the pain. It was beyond evident that even the body of an orc could break down. I needed, more than anything, war. \n\nOur camp was stationed near a wide lake, which I personally find stupid. We know we’re going to get ambushed, and you should always have an escape route. We had a no boats with us, so If someone attacked it would be all-or-nothing. But on the bright side, assuming somehow Sharptounge keeps his troops at bay, then the lake provides us with fish and sustainability. And a reflection.\n\nI leave to look at my reflection, taking my axes before walking out of my tent. I would never leave myself unarmed like some of the fools under my control.\n\n#”Hey, maggots!”\n\nMy voice booms over all of the chatter, one of my many talents. Everyone in the camp looks to me.\n\n#”Why do I see so many unarmed men!? You know there can be an attack any second! So get your weapons!”\n\nThey all hurry to their tents to get their weapons, fear in some of the lesser one’s eyes. They always find something to be scared of, which is why they invariably die any time they go into battle. But their pale skin blends with the sands we fight on, so they have some uses. I have always wondered if there are any pale-skins that don’t cower at their own shadows. But all of the ones I have commanded were not meant for war, rather forced into it.\n\nI head over to the lake where I look at my reflection. My skin’s dark tone showed well in the water, allowing me to observe my features with ease. My face has been scarred on more than one occasion, mostly from when I used to get lucky in battle. I chuckle thinking how incompetent my first few opponents had to have been to fall to me. But that was before I treated combat as it is: an art form. I observe my hairless head, my graying beard. I take a double take. Grey. It is a sign of age. Age is a sign of weakness. A sign of weakness reducers the fear you induce. The less fear you induce, the more difficult an opponent.\n\nI observe my axes. My brother, a smith, crafted them with a grueling, precise process. He took time to make them, to make they reflected the skill of the warrior who equipped them. I didn’t take the axes because of who made them. If the axes weren’t worthy of my hands then I would have declined. But the craftsmanship was extremely apparent. I believe them to be the greatest axes on this plane and the next. They don’t have any ornate carvings, or any jewels. But every aspect from the handles to the the blades is perfect to a tee, and is the best option when you wish to put steel to flesh that you could wish for. \n\nPeople have always wondered why I am the greatest warrior my tribe has seen. And I simply tell them it’s because I treat war with the utmost respect. If there is something to learn about war, about combat, I learn it. If there is a new fighting technique, I master it. If I learn about a new enemy, I learn their every weakness before I have to make a single move. I also wouldn’t dare do anything that would lessen my chances of victory. I increase the odds in my favor every chance I get. There is no tactic too underhanded, too evil. War is life. If you lose a war, you lose your life. And death isn’t for me. I may be getting older, I may be starting to break down, but I know more about war than every other orc combined. I will thrive.\n\nAnd if Sharptounge gets his peace, his unity he so wishes for between the tribes, then all the better. I, Kar-Messi Deathmonger, will be waiting. I will take the throne from him, and will have two tribes worth of orcs at my disposal. And when I have that, I will take the rest of the tribes. And then we will never need “Peace”\n\nThis takes place in the Chronicles of Shenka universe, a fictional universe of my creation. You can go to r/CoSOfficial for more stuff from this universe. There isn’t anything else right now, but there will be. I hope you enjoyed!",
"Slagathor! Gnome slayer! A gnome that slays gnomes for ungnome reasons. On the floating continent of Andoril gnomes are know as a smart and helpful bunch. Slagathor deviates greatly from this stereotype. He did not always and if it weren't for an unfortunate curse he may have grow up a much different gnome. When but a young boy his father a great warrior and leader in his own right brought home an enchanted blade for his son. It was meant to protect his son, his last and only loved one left. For he had witnessed the blades unbridled might just the day before when it mutilated his eleven companions in arms. They had been sent to retrieve a wanted man from the neighboring land of men that had been seen wandering in there own land. When approached the wandering criminal had offered to go peacefully until told he'd be returned to his own kind. He fought at all cost to escape. At first trying not to kill any but in the end did. All but the one who now passed on the blade of Unkind to his son. Cursed to force whomever is unfortunate enough to draw it from its sheath to slay anyone of the same race they are aware of. The land of the gnomes known as Orgith was but a disturbing and bloody shell of what it once was after only a week. Only a small fraction of its populace remained in its shadows when the blade finally let the young boy finally leave his homeland and original name behind. That is all however the blade would would allow him to leave for no matter how many times he tried he could not leave Unkind or his life. Now far from his home an old and grizzled three foot 6 inches tall man. A face that portrayed non of the sadness he knew he should feel but only a silent contempt for the life forced upon him. He traveled all of Andoril many times over in his 390 years on it searching for knowledge of any kind that could teach him more of the blade all the while spreading his legend of gnome slayer in hopes his brethren would steer clear though all did not. He traded his one unwanted skill for coin to eat. Whispers reached his ear of a man named Barbarosa a merchant that sells magical equipment for adventurers at to good to be true prices.",
"Already I could hear the murmurs of the crowd above as they entered the stands to the coliseum and all I could do was sigh. 'What are you sad about?' the guard asked. 'This is your chance at being free.'\n\n'It's also my chance at finishing my reading, but that will not be happening, will it?' I asked as I snapped my fingers to dispel the wisp providing light. It was the only real way of reading in this dank and horrible area where the gladiators had to rest prior to the events which could mean life or death.\n\nI set the book down and stood from the heavy wooden plank and stretched a little to work out the tension. 'Just get ready,' he barked at me as I adjusted my clothing and leathers, clearly hearing him call me a, 'Cheeky cunt...' under his breath.\n\nHe hollered in pain as I started a fire beneath his rear before diving ass-first into a nearby barrel of water. I merely chuckled before grabbing my axe and inspecting it before the guard came in, a whip ready to lash at me in his hand.\n\nOne of my mighty axe's blades was right at his throat, a calm and serene appearance on my face. 'Go ahead,' I said. 'I've waited a long time for this.'\n\nHe wisely dropped the whip before I strapped the axe onto my back with a nod, joining two other guards who brought me to the arena gate.\n\nOne of them was new, apparently. '[That is *not* a goblin],' he said in exasperation, probably unaware I spoke the Old Imperial tongue as well as 12 other languages. '[There are *ogres* smaller than him]!'\n\n'[You think I don't know that]?' the other answered. '[Come to think about it... you've never seen him fight, have you? Because he *has* defeated quite a few ogres by beating them into submission but seeing how stupid they are it's only light entertainment].'\n\n'[Goblins are tiny creatures, barely the height of some human's waists],' the new guard commented. '[Did he become like this *naturally*]?'\n\n'[Of course not],' the veteran answered. '[He was a slave belonging to the head of the Imperial Circle who was testing new potions on goblins before they could be given to the legions. One potion was apparently made from giants' blood...]'\n\n'[Oh, Master Octavius]?' the newbie asked. '[I heard he was killed by a slave...]'\n\n'[\"Killed\" doesn't even *begin* to describe what Viridis here did to him],' the veteran said. '[And to be honest, what the Emperor would do. Did you hear what he had done to that Lord out in the Stormblown Isles for breaking the Code Vert? His crimes *paled* in comparison to what Octavius had done].'\n\n'[So... what *did* the goblin do]?' the newbie asked.\n\n'I ground his limbs to paste under my heel then impaled his still-breathing body on a dull spike,' I answered rather casually. The younger guard jumped in shock as I gave him a sly look. 'Surprised? I've been receiving books and texts from my admirers for ten years. Of course I knew what you were saying.'\n\nThe gates slid open and I walked out into the sand, feeling it part under my feet like water. Already the murmurs of talk became uproarious applause at the sight of myself, some throwing flowers down to me.\n\nThere was no-one else within the coliseum besides me to my initial confusion but then again... why wouldn't they? I would steamroll other gladiators to the point that a victory was judged by whomever wasn't lying on the soil in a heap when I was finished.\n\n'I've heard stories of how big he was,' one elf said to another. 'So it *is* true. He really is ten feet tall then?'\n\n'And weighs more than a metric ton,' her friend said. 'Hey, didn't that merchant say something about renting a gladiator for private services? Are you thinking...'\n\n'Morgana, how *scandalous*!' the first elf said. 'How much?'\n\n'A high price, seeing the gifts he's been given,' the second said.\n\nIt was rather true. I *did* have a high price, apparently. And people were willing to pay it. Originally it was either because some lustful noble wanted the experience of a strong body or wanted a strong, powerful and well known figure as a \"Guard\" during dinner parties as a status symbol. But as I became more famous for my magic and intellect than my brawn they also paid to have me as a political or military advisor with my strategies going undefeated.\n\nOf course, appearance was also important so my masters made sure I had the best leathers available, decorated with only the best golden-steel alloy, a golden thread cape hanging over my shoulders. They were even willing to spend on purple dyes for my gloves and boots despite the astronomical costs as I could only have the *best*.\n\nI stood in the center of the arena as the Emperor gazed down at me. 'Rarely do gladiators survive a month, let alone ten years,' he spoke. 'Well, that was before *you* came along.'\n\n'I just don't see the point of mindless killing is all,' I said to him while checking the sharpness of my axe. 'What's the point of just having entertainers' heads chopped off?'\n\n'I see you have keen judgement,' the emperor said. 'It will be rather more entertaining to see gladiators actually capable of winning for once. But, you've had your decade. If you survive this trial you will finally be freed... and half the gold you've brought into the Coliseum will be granted to you. In the event of your demise, is there a special request you have?'\n\n'It's written down on a scroll in my quarters,' I spoke.\n\n'Very well,' the emperor said. 'Open the gate!'\n\nThe crowd died down as the heavy metal grate was lifted up. From that grate emerged one of the most feared beasts in all the world. 'Even the saliva of the manticore is one of the most noxious and poisonous in the world,' the emperor declared. 'Let alone the venom of its stinger.'\n\nThe beast lunged towards me, murder and hunger in its eyes. No doubt it was starved prior to the contest, I assumed. I defended myself with my axe but the beast just snapped the handle in half so to improvise I knocked the manticore to the ground, pinning it in place with one snapped wooden shaft before cutting the scorpion's stinger off.\n\nThe beast howled in agony before it stood, lunging for my chest before I could dodge. So instead I held both rows of teeth apart with my gargantuan palms before falling to the ground.\n\n'He may actually die here,' the emperor said. 'How much has been set aside for him...? Well, get ready to bring it to my mansion as he will surely...'\n\nI could clearly see the distraught look on his face when he saw me wrapping my greatwood legs around the beast's torso and grinning back at him. 'I don't like killing,' I said. 'That doesn't mean I *can't* do it.'\n\nWith a violent twist the manticore had slumped down, its spinal cord now severed. I kicked it off before standing up, the wind not even slightly forced out of me before I bowed before the emperor.\n\n'You...' the emperor said in dismay. 'It's a great surprise that you won even when the beast had me on the ground.'\n\n'What, you thought I was in danger?' I asked him. 'I did that because I didn't want to rip its jaw off. It would ruin the leather.'\n\nTo that, I pulled out a small jaw before hurling it towards him and drenching him in its contents. 'By the way, here's the wine I was sent last night by one of my sponsors.'\n\nHe collapsed in agony, skin aching from the mere contact. 'How?!' he bellowed. 'How did you know it was poisoned?!'\n\n'I didn't,' I said. 'I don't even drink wine the night before a fight. But thanks for announcing your match fixing to every noble in the empire.'\n\nThe crowd turned angry, demanding an explanation. Produce was soon pelted towards the ruler of the empire, the guards struggling to keep everyone in check and lead the emperor to safety. I, however, approached the veteran and newbie guards with a jovial smile on my face. 'So, what now?' I asked them.\n\nAnd so, that's how I accidentally started a coup d'etat.",
"In the post-apocalyptic world of south El-Paso, Tam and her crew ruled the Junkyards of Bob Rozaklis. They grew and tended chili peppers such as the Komodo Dragon, Moruga Scorpion, Naga Viper, Infinity, Naga Morich, Bhut jolokia, and the Spanish Naga. These, they traded for food and items they couldn’t manufacture for themselves from the maze of rusting autos and scrap metal. Today, five-foot-tall Tam was checking the junkyard's rain water collection system, moving silently through the mazes of stacked vehicles, her senses on alert for any intrusion. At her heels, Ranger and Outlaw, her two black-corded pulis, followed close, their own canine intrusion detection systems fully awake. She wore knee length moccasins and carried a pair of benchmade 63 stainless steel balisongs tucked in their own sheathes on her belt. Her black hair was a tangled mess and she tended to use the balisongs as crude barber sheers whenever her hair grew long enough to interfere with her vision or catch on scrap metal when she moved through the mazes. When Ranger growled, she quickly scrambled to the top of a stack of cars. Her whisky-hued eyes brightened when she saw the Fleece crew moving in. She had traded peppers for wool before, but today, she didn’t think this crew was looking to trade peppers. She blew into the rusting police whistle she wore around her neck to alert her mates and then checked her air gun.\n\nIt fired ping pong balls filled with a toxic brew of chili pepper juices at 1,448 kilometers an hour. It was her preferred weapon against these attacks as it was relatively non-lethal. If necessary, she would switch to her sling and start popping eyeballs. In close range, she switched to knives and juijitsu. Her greatest weapon though was her absolute knowledge of the junkyard of the legendary Bob Rozaklis. As she remembered Bob, she lifted three fingers in respect and then fired three quick ping pong balls at the fleece crew. The pop, pop, pop and screams as the chili got in eyes and caused skin to redden and blister was joined by the pop, pop, pop of her crew as they got into the action. She grinned in pure happiness and leaped to the ground running forward to do battle. Ranger and Outlaw were right behind, teeth bared, eager to defend their diminutive warrior mistress.\n",
"I am a human. Tall and packed with muscles. I have black hair and dark eyes. My dark coat waves in the cold wind. My breastplate is not shining anymore. It has seen to many battles. From my belt tangles a sword. One-edged and curved, emitting a grey light. But that is not the only edge I am carrying around. My gauntlets are claws, made from black steel. The many battles have left marks on my body. Wounds from mysterious monsters, fierce creatures, bolts and swords. Only my back is still unharmed. It is a shame for a swordsmen to be hit in the back. I have a tattoo on the back of my left hand. It shows blood running down my hands. But the only blood I will shed is theirs. I am standing on a hill, looking at a small forest. In there, is a militant group which has murdered my good friend, the army commander. They are the ex-royal guards and I cannot allow them to live.\n\n\n\nAs the moon rises I strike. My body moved, powered by anger and rage. Ripping off limbs with my claws. Tearing open bodies, clawing through the flesh of those highly skilled soldiers. Glowing red eyes was the last thing they saw.\n\n\n\nSometime after, a woodcutter reports that a fierce animal has killed all of the ex-royal guards. Their bodies had been torn apart. Even some horses were torn in half. But the king knew it was not an animal. He knew it was me. From that day on, he called me only if not even his whole army would be able to solve his problem.\n"
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[WP] A person moves to a new town which seems perfect. Too perfect. They resolve to uncover the town's dark secrets, unaware that there genuinely are none.
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"My name is April Savent and I recently moved to the town of Soft Springs during the middle of my spring semester junior year of high school. I woke late morning, having no need to set my alarm clock during spring break, and looked outside of my window and down the hill to see the town bustling around in the warm breezy spring day. Children run down the sidewalk, chasing the bouncing ball that seemed to go in a perfectly straight line, never straying too close to the vendors nor too close to the street. A bluebird landed on the window sill, singing her song as she looked me in the eyes.\n\n\"April, time for breakfast.\" I hurried down stairs to the smell of slightly burnt pancakes. *Finally, something normal.* I thought to myself. I turned at the stairwell in front of the main door when I heard the knock. \"Sweetheart, will you see who that is? I'm waiting for the electrician to come and fix this outlet in here.\" My mother called. I opened the door to see a little old lady smiling at me with perfectly straight and white teeth. Her silver hair was pulled up into a pristine bun and she held a casserole dish in her hands.\n\n\"Hi. I'm Eleanor, I live on the next hill over. I thought you all could use a welcome to Soft Springs breakfast.\" Her voice was soft and sweet as she held the dish out toward me. \n\n\"Ummm... One second, Mom!\" I called over my shoulder. Growing up in the heart of New York City, I'm shocked my mom even let me answer the door. \n\n\"Oh for heavens sake.\" I heard my mom mumble as she came from the kitchen. \"Hi!\" She said as she got to the door. \"I'm sorry for my daughter's misgivings, I've raised her in a city life and she doesn't understand the friendliness of small town neighbors. I'm Stephanie.\" \n\n\"I'm Eleanor, and no misgivings, I completely understand. Being weary of strangers is a good habit to have when growing up as long as it doesn't hinder your ability to be the best at what you want to be. And I was just telling your lovely daughter that I brought you some Soft Springs breakfast. As a welcoming gift.\" My mom carefully took the dish and thanked the old woman.\n\n\"Thank you so much! Our outlets are fired in the kitchen so making pancakes this morning was a failed attempt.\" \n\n\"Oh no!\" Eleanor exclaimed. \"Well my grandson works at the electric company in town and is actually looking at being an Electronic Engineer. Let me call him and he can come look at it and inform you what you might need to do rather than paying for a consultant.\" Before my mom could interject the woman already had her phone out and was calling her grandson.\n\n\"You really...\" Eleanor held up a finger. I could tell he still hadn't answered by her turning slightly away from the house. \n\n\"JAKE!\" The woman bellowed, hanging up the phone while looking down our 500 foot driveway at the town. I glanced around her to see a man who I assumed was her grandson. He got a big smile on his face and walked up the drive, waving at his grandmother. \"Why do you not answer your phone?\" She called at him. His smile dropped as a look of confusion filled his eyes. He stuck his hand in his back pocket and pulled out the phone and right as he reached us he turned to her. \n\n\"Gran-gran, did you call the wrong 'Jake'?\" The blush was evident on her face as she realized she must have made a mistake. He smiled and shook his head. \"How can I help you folks? Does something need to be fixed? Need a tour around town? The best places to fish or bird watch? Gran only calls me if it involves new townspeople or if something needs to be fixed.\" He took a pause, \"Unless her cat did something fantastic or it's someones birthday. Which reminds me, Gran,\" he turned back to her, \"did we get the auditorium set up for Mike's 25th birthday bash?\"\n\n\"Ohhhh!\" Was all she said before rushing off our porch and down the driveway faster than I'd ever seen a woman her age walk.\n\nJake was chuckling as he watched her go. \"Be careful, if you tell her when your birthday is, she'll plan a birthday bash for you as well. The whole town will be involved, I don't think we've missed one yet. We got really close one year, a family had just moved in and gran came over to bring breakfast as usual and it turns out that day was the kid's birthday. Man the town was a mess but it cheered that kid up so much from having to move out of his home town.\"\n\n\"Oh, that sounds fun.\" My mom said. It was obvious that she grew up in a small town. After she married my father, he insisted they move to the city so he could find a better job. Little good that did. My father still had issues finding a job so mom and him moved into a tiny run down, one bedroom apartment. My mom wasn't picky about jobs so she immediately got one while my dad continued to ignore multiple job offers. Two years later they had me. I was six before my dad was fed up with the small city and decided that moving to New York City would be a much better fit for finding a job. The apartment we moved to wasn't any better than the one we just left and they were paying twice as much in rent. But dad was right, and he found a job that he liked, for a while. \n\n\n(Will add more later, maybe)",
"“I call this meeting to order!” Mayor Harper said, banging his gavel on the table. He didn’t actually need to bang the gavel, as the room was completely silent, but he enjoyed doing it anyway. “The Cordova City Council recognizes Mr. Charles Crawford, the president of the Chamber of Commerce.” \n\n“My first name is Henry,” Henry Crawford pointed out. \n\nHarper shrugged. “I like alliteration.” \n\nCrawford cleared his throat. “Ladies and gentlemen, I think we all know why we are here. The Schroeder family. At first, we all found their ‘investigations’ to be quaint and funny, but that’s not the case anymore. Two days ago, Augustus Flint, the owner of the tackle shop, was accosted by Leona Schroeder, who demanded information about the horrible secrets he was supposedly hiding. When he told her he didn’t know anything, she beat him up so badly that she snapped his spinal cord in three places.”\n\n“The doctors say I’ll never walk again!” Flint shouted from his wheelchair, waving his fist angrily in the air. \n\n“Look, we’ve tried to be hospitable,” Crawford went on. “We’ve tried to tell the Schroeders flat out that Cordova is just a normal town with no dark secrets! We’ve even humored them, telling them that the military was running experiments on Unalaska Island, but they didn’t bite. It’s abundantly clear that they are a threat to the peace of this town, and I want to know what the Council intends to do about it!”\n\nHarper scratched his head. “And you’re absolutely certain that we’re *not* hiding any dark secrets? Because, you know, this is the kind of town where you’d expect –”\n\n“Mayor Harper, please!” Crawford shouted.\n\n“All right, all right,” Harper said. “I get it. I suppose if anyone was hiding anything sinister, we’d soon know. Dealing with Leona isn’t the problem – we can get her for assaulting Flint fair and square. But to the best of my knowledge, her husband hasn’t committed any crimes. We can’t just arrest him for no reason!” \n\nCouncilwoman Markowitz sighed. “The irony is, of course, that if we were a town with a dark secret, that’s *exactly* what we’d do. I suggest – ”\n\nNo one ever found out what Councilwoman Markowitz was going to suggest, because in that moment, the doors to the council chamber were kicked off their hinges. Charles and Leona Schroeder charged into the room, both of them armed with pistols. They fired their guns into the air. \n\n“We were just talking about you,” Markowitz said dryly. “I was saying that there was no proof of any wrongdoing you’ve committed, Charles. How happy I am to be proven wrong.” \n\nMarkowitz’s happiness quickly came to a screeching halt when Charles shot her in the head. Gasps resonated throughout the chamber. Flint attempted to wheel away at top speed, but Leona put two bullets through the back of his head.\n\n“We figured it out!” Charles gloated. “We finally figured your dark little secret.” \n\nLeona strode over to Harper and dragged him out of his seat by his lapel. She deposited him on the floor and pointed her gun at his forehead. “Oh, you were very clever. Very clever indeed. You thought you could hide the truth from *us* just like the people in every other town we’ve lived in!” \n\n“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harper said, and then Leona shot him in the stomach. He screamed in pain.\n\n“We *know* the truth now,” Leona said and cackled maniacally. “We know that you have a compound near here run by a bioengineering company. We know that you’ve been plotting to destroy all the fish in the world by having them eaten by savage, mutated, inedible fish, leaving your genetically modified fish as the only edible fish in the world!” \n\nMrs. Thorpe, the high school English teacher and the oldest person in the town, raised a hand meekly. “Excuse me, but I think I recall this plot from a Clive Cussler novel, and, frankly, it was more credible then.”\n\nCharles snarled at her. “You’re in on it! You’re all in on it! You work for Toonook!” \n\n“I really don’t,” Thorpe began. Charles opened fire on her, hitting her in the shoulder, chest, and arm. Thorpe clutched her chest dramatically and played dead.\n\n“Fortunately,” Leona said, “we have a plan to rectify the situation, to ensure the survival of all the fish on the planet!” \n\n“Does it involve you leaving?” Mr. Sikorsky, a pilot at the airfield wondered. “I can get you a group rate.”\n\nLeona smiled beatifically. “Oh, yes, it does, Mr. Sikorsky. If indeed that is your real name! It most definitely *does!* She unzipped her coat, revealing a bomb strapped to her chest. \n\n“This is a nest of *vipers*,” Charles pronounced. “I’ve never seen so much treachery in a town before. Not in Elm Grove, where there was a vampire infestation. Not in Rochester, where we stumbled upon a scheme to replace the UN Secretary General with a robot. Not even in New York, where we discovered a plot to turn the entire population of Connecticut into *ducks!*”\n\nHe strode over to Leona. “In those cases, we were able to stop the infection before it could spread. But it’s too late. All of you are under Toonook’s thrall. The only way to stop the infestation is through *fire!*”\n\nA red dot appeared on the side of Charles’s head and the next moment, there was a thunderous sound of glass breaking as a high caliber bullet smashed through Charles’s skull. Leona removed a detonator from her pocket and pressed it, to no avail. A red dot appeared on her throat and the next moment, her throat exploded. \n\n“Uh,” Mayor Harper said eloquently. “What just happened?” \n\nTwo men in suits entered the room. One of them flashed a badge in Mayor Harper’s face, denoting him to be Thomas Reynolds, a CIA agent. “Are you all right, Mayor Harper? Can you hear me?” \n\nMayor Harper coughed. “I’m not sure. I think I’m losing a lot of blood.” \n\n“Agent Cooper!” Agent Reynolds called out. “Ambulance, stat!” \n\nAgent Cooper saluted and ran out of the room. \n\nAgent Reynolds helped Harper up and into a seat. He shook his head in dismay. “Agents Zamboni and Clevenger used to be some of our most effective agents. They participated in an experiment to subconsciously program them to believe they were someone else to go really deep cover. But there was a mix-up and they accidentally got implanted with the identities of two conspiracy theorists from the local asylum.” \n\n“I propose that we pretend that this whole incident never happened,” Mayor Harper said. “All in favor?” Everyone in the room raised their hands. \n\n“So let me get this straight,” Councilman Starr said slowly. “There really was a dark secret in Cordova, but the only people it involved were the people searching for it.”\n\nAgent Reynolds shrugged. “Irony can be a real bitch, can’t it?” ",
"Howard Evora stood outside to meet the rising sun, the light breeze swaying the branches of nearby trees and steam coming from his coffee. All around him were ordinary homes housing simple and honest families. It was 6:30 in the morning, and many cars were on their way to an honest day of work. The men and women leaving were dressed well, seemed to have slept well, and even appeared eager to be productive. \n\nHowever, Howard seemed different. Under his eyes, bags were forming from many a sleepless night. Tossing, turning, writing, thinking of the reason why nothing bad ever happened in this town. No crime ever came to hunter's Creek, no scandelous secrets sat in safes, or any of the houses for that matter. Wearing a bathrobe over his meager stained tank top and pajamas, he smiled softly as he took a sip. \n\n\"Today's the day. I just know it.\"\n\nHer turned to enter his house, keeping a steady pace while closing the door behind him. The walls were covered with news articles and images of neghboring families. Red string tied together over a map signaled a person's home, occupation, alongside their families favorite most common locations visited. Months and months of work amounted to a cynical view of a perfect community with neighbors anyone would be lucky to have. \n\nHow? How could every person be perfect, every family be friendly, every home hospitable to anyone knocking? The thought tickled the back of Howard's mind every waking moment, and the only way to scratch it was to let it all out, but all his work and conspiracy amounted to was a scary level of nothing for someone so invested in finding... anything. \n\nHoward stood staring at the wall covered in dates, articles and photos of the people he grew to know over the past six months living in Hunter's Creek.\n\n*Is this really the perfect place to live? How is this possible...*\n\nHoward was investigative reporter for over 35 years in Washington. Even the slightest scent of something foul caught his attention. Corrupt politicians always kept a fancy facade, holding their heads high as they sold themselves to the highest bidder. It was satisfying work, but the ones who got away always made his blood boil.\n\nThis town was no different. Something was here, *there had to be*. \n\nA knock on his door caught him by surprise this early in the morning. He covered the wall with a nearby curtain and answered it.\n\n\"Hello Howar-! Oh, you don't look so good, did you get some sleep last night?\"\n\nSamantha Davis was a middle aged widow, lost her husband to heart disease about eight years ago and lives alone most of the year, her only daughter currently going to out of state college. Howard put on the smile he always gave her every morning she came to visit during her morning run. \n\n\"Ah, sorry for appearing like this Samantha, had a rough night with work yesterday.\" He thought he was lying like usual, but he truly had been pushing himself these past days trying to harvest from fruitless trees. \n\n\"Howard, you need to be sure to take care of yourself! Maybe you could join me for a morning run one day when you get the chance? We could even get some food together after or...\" She blushed and brushed her hair to the side, suddenly lost with words, trying to find a way out of the embarrassment she had been ensnared herself in. \n\nHoward chuckled at the thoughts running through his head. Had he noticed that Samantha always stopped by his house since meeting him? She was in shape, single, both interested and.... interesting. What was stopping him? Maybe he ought to give the town a try, she was giving him one. \n\n\"Sam... can you actually give me a moment to change really quick? I haven't ran in quite a while. Here, come inside and have yourself some water.\"\n\nSmiling, she stepped though the open door.\n\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] You're playing an online game with some of your friends who live in different parts of the country. Suddenly the power goes out, disconnecting you from your game. You apologetically text your friends, saying, "Sorry guys. I have a blackout here." One by one, your friends respond, "Me too."
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"“FUCK!! Power couldn’t have waited five more minutes until we’d beaten the goddamn boss? It’s not even stormy out. Probably some drunk asshole plowed into a power pole again. Fuckin’ shit…” Carl patted all around himself on his couch, searching for his phone. Crumbs and wrappers covered the cushions. Over two hours spent working on the level and of course the power would go out halfway through the boss fight. Nevermind how hard it is to get his friends all together and online since everyone graduated and moved all around the country. Karla had actually woken up for the game at one in the morning just so she could join in. Hopefully they could manage to beat the boss without him, he could always join another group and replay it later this week by himself. \n\nFinally, he found his phone. It had slipped between the cushions and halfway down the crack in the back. Where it always went. Why didn’t he ever look there first? He opened his messenger app and fired off a quick group message, “Sorry guys, fuckin power went out. You beat him?” \n\nJust as he was hitting send, a message came in from Jeff, “Goddamn power! At the boss too!” Followed almost immediately with, “Wait, yours is out too?” \n\n“Yeah, I think a drunk must have hit the pole or something.”\n\n“Huh, weird. No idea why mine is out. Weather is nice. It is saturday night though, coulda been a drunk driver here too. I doubt Karla and Pete could beat it without half the team though.” \n\nCarl was just working on his reply when another message came in from Karla this time, “Sorry guys, couldn’t find my phone. Couch ate it lol. My power went out too. Weird! Wonder what it could be?” That was weird. All three of them live in different states, different time zones even. “You guys think Pete lost power too? Maybe his phone is dead, he hates it when we disconnect early!” She was right about that too, Pete usually had a pretty angry text sent within seconds of anyone disconnecting early. They sometimes wondered if he didn’t prepare the messages beforehand just in case.\n\n“Maybe his power went out too, he’s probably afraid to check his texts after the way he yelled at me for dropping last time. Lol” said Jeff. \n\n“Lol yeah. Might be he’s messing around with his generator too. Anyways, I think I’m going to bed, it’s pretty late here. Night!” Said Karla and she left the group chat.\n\nCarl was trying to check whether the power would be out in L.A. too, that’s where Pete lived, but his phone was taking forever. Just some error splash screen that kept popping up. So no power and not even any internet on his phone. He’d probably be better off just going to bed himself at this rate. Didn’t seem like there was much else left to do. At least his gameboy should be charged, he wasn’t really all that tired yet.\n\n“Your internet being shitty too? My phone won’t connect, my service always kinda sucks out here though.” \n\n“Mine wont connect either. Pete messaged you yet? It’s been like ten minutes, seems like he should have his generator running by now.” Pete couldn’t stand not having power, he turned his generator on once a week just to make sure it worked fine and would be ready to go. He always said something about the gas going bad too. It wasn’t like him to go this long without saying anything. Especially after his whole fireteam dropped out. \n\nThe windows all shattered at once. Carl was knocked to the floor. Only the screech of jet engines could be heard over the ringing in his ears. The street was cratered now, the next block on fire. He could hear the engine screech growing louder again and threw himself to the floor, covering his head and his ears. The building shook again. The jets screeched away. His phone buzzed with a message from Jeff.\n\n“Holy shit, someone just bombed my fucking street!”\n\nThere was still no message from Pete.\n"
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[WP] For fun one day you dressed your dog in a business suit. Now it's the CEO of one of the most successful companies in the country.
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"Who's a Good Boy!, Inc. was a howling success, and it was all thanks to my dog.\n\nI had worked at the local dog food factory for years, so on *Bring Your Pet to Work* day, for a joke, I dressed up my dog in a suit. My boss was totally cool about it, thought it was cute, and actually suggested we show the CEO. \n\nMy dog and I were ushered into the product testing room where the CEO and the board of directors were conducting a meeting and observing the product testing process.\n\nWhen they spotted the dog, there were laughs and petting all around - my business dog was a hit! After a few more pettings, my suited doggie ran onto the laboratory floor and chased-off the testing-dog. My dog then took it upon himself to chose the best food: he chose bowl number seven. \n\nThe CEO and the board laughed-but my dog trotted up to the chairperson of the board and with its paw, knocked the clipboard out her hand. We all watched with shocked silence as my dog, pen-in-mouth, marked the clipboard checkboxes '7' and 'Requires More Testing'. All eyes watched as my dog then sauntered over, sat down, and stared directly at our current CEO.\n\nThis was all it took to launch an investigation into the CEO. It was uncovered that the current CEO had been trying to get new dog food pushed through, a clearly inferior product, but one created by his son. After presenting the evidence, my dog stood before the board and barked once, clearly, saying,\"Woof!\" \n\nEveryone knew what that woof meant: *Nepotism!*\n\nThe CEO pulled his collar, sweating nervously. \"Look, it's not a bad food product. Don't listen to this dog in a suit! Our testing dog loves it, right Fido? Where's Fido. What did you do with Fido!\"\n\nMy dog was thereafter invited to attend all board meetings.\n\nAt the next meeting, voting for new CEO was to take place. When the final votes came in, as everyone expected, the old CEO was out. But what was unexpected was that my dog had been penned-in as a joke...by every member of the board!\n\nWhen this unanimous vote for the dog CEO was announced, there was nervous laughter around the long boardroom table. Everyone had started to stand up in order to take a break, but despite the laughing, my dog, tail wagging, jogged over and sat down in the seat at the head of table. He barked once. Everyone froze. The room grew quiet. \n\nMy dog, looking quite serious, barked again, and everyone sat. My dog's tail then began wagging again.\n\nAnd that's the story of how my dog became CEO of the most successful pet food (and Walmart microwave beef burrito) manufacturing and distribution company in the world.",
"\"Who is a good business pup? Who? You are, Gumdrop, you are!\"\n\nGumdrop looked so official. Bring-Your-Pet-To-Work Day was something I had advocated for some time, and it was finally happening. Our company had a strict no-pet policy for a while but I had finally convinced my manager. \n\nI walked past the reception desk and our receptionist complimented my dog's suit. Gumdrop was a professional pupper.\n\nI sat down at my desk, tied my dog's leash around my chair, and began to work.\n\nJust then I started to notice yelling down the hallway.\n\nStorming out of my manager's office was the company CEO.\n\nNobody knew his real name and rumor had it, the man never smiled. \n\nAs he approached the cubicle section of the office, I was hoping the humorously dressed Gumdrop would get our CEO to grin slightly. I could be finally on his good side.\n\nHowever, the complete opposite occurred. I wouldn't even go as far to say the opposite. It was just something nobody expected. \n\n\"Bring-Your-Pet-To-Work-Day is everything wrong with this company. You want to bring pets to work? Huh? Well you can work for one now. I QUIT....you there?\"\n\nHe pointed right at Paws.\n\n\"You are in charge...and I mean it. Officially. Your suit is more professional than half of this office\"\n\nThe CEO pointed at the company lawyers towards the back of the office.\n\n\"Make it official\"\n\nThey hesitated at first.\n\n\"But sir-\"\n\n\"Make it happen.\"\n\nGumdrop was now in-charge of the company. I couldn't believe. Was it Gumdrop's suit? Who knows.\n\nThe CEO yelled across to my manager.\n\n\"Give Gumdrop the empty office at the end of the hallway...and you there... \" \n\nWith his finger pointed at me.\n\n\"Take your CEO to his office.\"\n\n\"Okay\", I said.\n\nI walked Gumdrop to the new office. It all happened so fast. None of this felt real. \n\nGumdrop was the CEO of our company.\n\n"
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[WP] Santa retires and starts a new career, as a Lawyer
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"The song always said \"He knows if you've been bad or good\" Why would Santa represent a guilty man? No jury would ever convict a man who Santa represented...\n\n\nOnly, I knew he was guilty - we had the evidence. \n\nEach house had fingerprints, if you could call those hairy smears \"prints\" that were clearly his. \n\nHe'd conveniently returned with most of the holiday supplies at just the last moment.\n\nHe'd claimed repentance, but didn't admit any criminal act.\n\nAnd he had all of the costumes, and equipment in that horrible mountain lair of his.\n\nEven his poor abused dog. Max was it? Bore witness to his foul acts.\n\nI wouldn't touch the defendant with a 39 and a half pole, and neither should any of you fine jurors. \n\nI rest my case."
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[WP] Science discovers it can open memories from your consciousness past life, proving death isn't permanent, you decide to find out who you were.
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"After entering in the code, the computer screen asked a simple question: \"Begin?\"\n\n\nSarah turned from the monitor and looked at Albert. \"Are you sure about this? What if you don't like what you see?\" She queried.\n\n\n\"Sarah, we're *scientists*. We don't have to like what we see, only record it.\" replied her colleague laying on the table, dozens of wires connected to his head. \"Now stop procrastinating and lets start this.\"\n\n\nSarah gulped as she tapped a few more keys, and began the count down.\n\n\n\"Revision in five, four, three, two...\" Albert blacked out before he could hear one.\n\n \n*************************\n\nHe stood before a cheering crowd, the military uniform feeling crisp and clean, and an unprecedented confidence courses through him. Albert felt the power the speech he had most likely just delivered, the roar of air planes flying over head. Maybe he could get used to this.\n\n\nThe crowd all raised their hands and gave out a single united cry towards him.\n\n\n\"SIEG HEIL!\"\n\n\n*************************\n\n\nAlbert rose from the table.\n\n\"Nope. Destroy it, I'll burn the notes.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"No buts!\""
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[WP] You have developed a device that can "see" all electronic communication, from cell phone signals to radio waves. Filtering out all the normal noise of the city around you, you see a transmitting signal so loud and wide it should sound like screaming to the human ear, but you hear nothing.
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"I called Shenika over because she was a proficient DJ who knew her way around sound editing software. No amount of manipulation with Sony Sound Forge on my part could pinpoint or triangulate or whatever the source of the waveform.\n\nAll she did was click a few options and had us wait a few minutes for the output to process before she pointed to the screen. \"Okay, see the center? That's where we're at. Up is north. All this noise shit, is all around us. No, look, see that void? That's your desk, your bed, your drawers. But then here, look, that's his room, right?\"\n\nShe was referring to my roommate. \"Yeah,\" I confirmed.\n\n\"Alright, globbed-up black all around in there, and then the hallway's clear, but look! Living room, dinette, all smeared in that nasty shit! And this ain't just noise, this is concentrated mass. Gravity is bending around it, that's what's making this show up. You just ain't hear gravity.\"\n\nWe sat in stunned silence. \"So you wanna see what's making all that noise?\"\n\nShe sniffed loudly, fishing out a Black n' Mild from her pocketbook. \"I'm almost afraid to.\"\n\n\"In the interest of science and all that?\"\n\nHerman was in the living room, feet propped up on the coffee table whilst he sucked idly on a popsicle. His fuzzy, unbathed dog curled up with its nose against his hip in protection against the future emission of secondhand smoke. All around him were shelves and nightstands topped with lamps, paperwork, sewing supplies, magazines, unopened mail, stylish hats, and lampshades. Shenika stifled a gasp so as not to hurt Herman's feelings.\n\n\"Hey, guys, how you doing?\" he crooned.\n\n\"We're fine, I'm just showing her around. Mind if I show her your room?\"\n\n\"Go ahead, I haven't cleaned up yet, though.\"\n\nIt was my turn to stifle a giggle. Shenika looked at me worriedly. I hyperventilated as we walked back down the hallway to his door and took a deep breath before opening it. She woofed audibly at the stench of stale cigarette smoke, body odor, and piss-wet dog. Once I flicked the light on, her throat audibly clenched shut again.\n\nThe space between the bed and the far wall was stuffed with dirty clothes and garbage. His nightstand and dresser were sprawled with empty mugs, overflowing ashtrays, socks, and more unopened mail. His closet was jammed open with a diagonal row of jackets hung onto a collapsed clothing rack, covering some file cabinets that were jammed open with empty grocery bags and plastic tarps. Her hand touched the door jamb a couple of times. \"I can feel the center of gravity change, dude, there's so much shit in here.\"\n\n\"Black hole, on a supersonic level, like with ultraviolet light that we can't see?\"\n\n\"Don't think that's how this works. But I wanna try something, like a digital seance of sorts.\" She took her phone out and used the voice recorder to record the dead air over the piles. Seven or eight seconds was more than sufficient for her as she had practically teleported back to my room to escape the smell. I followed suit to watch her import the wav file onto her Macbook.\n\nSimilar result to my own experiment, except the waveform was much thicker. Almost a solid block taking up the whole screen. \"I'm gonna see if there's any layers to separate, this may take a bit.\" We passed the time with a joint, her facial responses to her headphones growing from perplexed to dismayed over the course of our session. Finally she said, \"Okay, you need to hear this.\"\n\nHer hand trembled as she held the headphones out to me. I put them on and she played the layers, piece by piece. The first voice was clear, adult, and articulate in its screams, \"I have no eyes to close! I have to watch him masturbate! Make it stop! Paint me black!!!\" The next was a raspy growl, \"Dog stinks against me, man stinks all over me, feet and penises and whiskers and I haven't been washed in years!\" The third, a female's voice: \"I don't belong here!! He's not supposed to wear me!!\"\n\n\"They knew they were being recorded,\" she shuddered. \"Hear how they tried to shout everything out real quick before I stopped?\"\n\n\"This is fucked up,\" I agreed. More voices yelled from the headphones about the constant stench and displays and neglect that they had endured for so long.\n\n\"Well, that's your answer, can I go now?\" Her fear was obviously competing with intrigue in her demeanor. No move to pack up her stuff, just sitting there anticipating my response as the subletter of this room.\n\n\"In the best interest of your safety and sanity, yeah, you probably should.\" At least now I knew the source of this foreboding disquiet that had been lingering over my mood ever since I had moved in. \"There's nothing we can do for my roommate's things. They're his things. All we can do is be grateful for ours by showing them the respect they deserve.\"\n\nThis crushed my friend. \"Well, I'm never going to be able to watch Toy Story the same way ever again. Do you think Andy's toys watched him go through puberty?\"\n\n\"That's more normal than being a self-loathing hoarder, I guess.\" I retrieved her laptop's power supply from the surge protector behind my desk. \"It's a good thing that my stuff didn't give off any noise, huh?\"\n\n\"Yeah, well, that's because you're too nice.\" With that, she zipped her belongings up into her backpack and slung it over her shoulder while pecking me on the cheek. \"I know you're going to do whatever you can for his poor things.\"\n\nGroan. \"I suppose I'll have to scrounge up some laundry change and give his bedsheets a day at the spa, at least.\"\n\nShe twiddled her fingers goodbye in response and left the apartment, completely ignoring Herman on the way out. I can't say that I blame her; invisible blinders are my way of dealing with this environment as well. Sometimes it's better that these walls couldn't talk."
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[WP] The bittersweet relationship between an immortal and someone who remembers their previous reincarnations.
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"\"I wonder what you'll be next, it'd be interesting to see.\"\n\n\n\"I wish I could just be that 16th century Lord again, y'know? That was my best life so far. Anyway, I'm sure you're getting bored Epimetheus. Pull the plug, I'll see you in a couple of years, yeah?\"\n\n\n\nAs the life escaped from the short, fat truck-driver, elsewhere in the hospital a little girl was born. \n\n\n\n\"You know what's weird, Jenny? You were born in the same hospital you died in. I walked past the room you were birthed in after seeing you die.\"\n\n\n\"Huh, I was that fat truck driver that time, right? Or was that 3 lives ago? Eh, who cares...\"",
"\"It's being tired, more than anything, isn't it?\" Andrew says. \"Not tired in an 'I'm old, and my bones ache, and I want to go to sleep at 5pm way...'\"\n\n\"I know what you mean,\" I reply. \"Honestly, Andrew, it's best not to think about it.\"\n\nRight now he has sunken features – droopy eye sockets and cheeks that cave inward. He's been a Japanese woman for some time now; we've never insisted on calling each other by the names we go by in the present. He was Andrew, and I was Emile, and that's how we shall remain to each other. It's who we were when we finally realized why we always felt the way we did – when we actually became ourselves. I wonder if this is the last time I'll see him like this. \n\n\"I'm sure you're right,\" he sighs.\n\nThe smells outside this coffee shop in Paris are pleasant. Both Andrew and I sip a small espresso, and I'm slowly eating a strawberry-jelly pastry, which I couldn't resist once I caught a whiff of the boulangerie next door – a small joy. A light rain elicits the scents of the concrete, here in the 6th arrondissement.\n\nWe meet here every five years now, when we can. When we first met, it was every year, but even though the travel is simpler than ever, when you live like we've lived, too much of anything – even your oldest friend's company – is disappointing. \n\nHe's the only other one I know. The only other person aware of their own immortality. \n\n“Your grandchildren,” I ask. “How are they?”\n\n“They're well,” he says. “Ah, not all well – I don't know why I would lie to you. Yuri was depressed and hung himself, about two years ago. His wife has never been the same.”\n\n“I'm sorry to hear it,” I tell him. \n\nI have a hard time telling whether I'm actually sorry, and whether he is actually seeking sympathy. Cynicism isn't the right word for my reaction to such happenings, but over the centuries, I've begun to treat them less like tragedies, or joyous occassions, or impactful moments, and more like facts. Like that it rains throughout the fall in Paris. \n\nA cat crosses the street, darting from the inches-wide alley between the cafe and the bakery to the stone wall bordering the River Seine. It's a black cat, and it seeks out a shadow it can blend into as it walks along the wall. \n\n“And have you married?” Andrew asks me. \n\nHe asks because I'm a young American man, handsome, if I may say so. I wear a suit most days, and keep my short hair parted to the side. I have green eyes, I think. I can't recall for certain. He asks because I wasn't married five years ago, when I last met him. This is third time we've met in this incarnation for me, since I've become old enough to travel. It would have been the fourth time, had my parents not shrugged off the notion of a twelve-year-old wanting to travel alone to Paris as ludicrous. Sometimes we miss each other when we come here, and I roam the Orsay and l'Orangerie. \n\n“I have, actually.”\n\nAndrew smiles. “What's their name?”\n\n“Her name is Amy. I really think you'd like her. She has an adventurous spirit.”\n\nAndrew won't ask to meet Amy: we decided a long time ago that we just couldn't do that kind of thing. It risks ruining the lives that we build for ourselves each incarnation, when the inevitable, “How did you meet?” questions arise. Amy's at the hotel on the Champs Elysees, some gaudy facade that's lit up like a Christmas tree on the outside, with marble pillars throughout the atrium. This morning, I told her that she deserves to sleep in during our honeymoon, and left the room with an umbrella. \n\n“I'm happy for you,” he says. \n\nHe's my oldest friend, and in some ways, my only real friend. He's the only one I know who is capable of understanding what my perspective is like, why I am how I am. I'm sure there are others out there, aware of their own reincarnation, and of course, all humans do it, though mostly subconsciously. But for centuries, to suggest reincarnation existed was to blaspheme in the west. And despite some professing to believe in reincarnation in the east, their actual belief is as tenuous as the west's belief in blasphemy. Perhaps, with the internet having come about, reaching out to others may not be so difficult in the years to come. But I don't hold out hope for such things. In fact, I'm not sure that I'd really care that much to meet any others. \n\nIn the fifteenth century, outside of Salisbury, England, he was a smith's son, an apprentice, and I was the daughter of a farmer. We were married when he was nineteen. I was seventeen. It was at some point, in our marital bed, that he told me about his “strange dreams,” as he put it, dreams of being in faraway places he didn't comprehend. It was then that I confessed to also having “strange dreams,” but we agreed that these weren't dreams at all, that they were memories.\n\nWe exchange old stories, as well as the couple new ones worth mentioning that will likely fade from our memories after decades and centuries. \n\n“This has been perfectly lovely, as usual,” he tells me, gingerly rising from his seat, and stabilizing his frail frame with a walking cane. I also rise from my chair, walk over to him, and we embrace.\n\n“I look forward to the next one,” I tell him.\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------\nFirst draft, haven't even re-read it bc I gotta go. I plan to revisit at some point soon. Sorry for any typos, I have a sticky \"e\" key. ",
"\"Wait, I *know* you,\" she said, leaning across the counter. Her long hair, dyed blue, brushed against the display of candy. \"I've seen you before.\"\n\nTuck shook his head and turned back to the computer. She was back again. For nearly seven hundred years, she'd haunted him. They crossed paths at least once every one of her lifetimes. This was the twenty-first time and the second time she recognized him.\n\n\"No, I hear that a lot. I look familiar to a lot of people.\"\n\nHer hand reached across the counter and touched his, holding it still on the keyboard. He gasped a breath. Her touch was like electricity running up his arm.\n\n\"Tuck?\"\n\n*Oh no.* The last time she knew his name...he wanted to cry at the memory from two hundred years ago, still fresh in his mind. She'd been so lovely, so darling...and his. It was the only time they'd had a real relationship. When she died because he had to choose between her or their children.\n\nHe forced a smile instead. \"You must have me confused with someone else.\"\n\nShe pointed at his name badge. \"You're Tuck.\"\n\n*Oh.* \"Yes,\" he acknowledged. \"That's my name.\"\n\n\"Can you just get what you came here for, lady? I don't have all day,\" a customer behind her grumbled.\n\nShe shifted her bag on her shoulder and leaned back. \"Of course, sorry,\" she murmured to the man behind her. \"I need a pair of windshield wipers for a 2010 Camry.\"\n\nTuck nodded. \"Those will be in aisle eight.\" He pointed in that general direction, glad to have his hand free and regretting the loss of contact at the same time.\n\nShe moved away from the counter and the dour-faced man approached. Tuck squeezed his eyes closed for a second and then smiled. \"How can I help you, sir?\"\n\n***\n\nAllison knew him, she as positive of that. She stood in the aisle staring blankly at the windshield wipers. There was something that her mind was trying to piece together. His face, dirty, while he worked on a plow in the mid-1800s struck her. This was the first time she vividly remembered her past lives and she knew he was part of at least one.\n\nThen the memories started to rush back. In the early 1900s, he was driving a model-T and gave her a ride after being thrown by a horse. Then, he was in a parlor, tinkering with a clock by the light of a fireplace in the late 1700s. He was by the campfire and repairing tools in the 1600s while the grasses swayed and the crickets sang.\n\nHe was standing in a barn fixing a buckboard in the 1800s while children played nearby. Their children. Elizabet and James. The stars started to build in her head, making her dizzy until she fell to the floor.\n\n\"Allison.\" The voice was far away. \"Allison,\" it repeated, more forcefully.\n\n*Tuck*\n\nShe opened her eyes and his face was near hers as he bent over. \"Tucker,\" she whispered, reaching up to touch his cheek.\n\n\"Are you okay?\" he asked, his eyes a stormy grey, like he was fighting something inside his head.\n\n\"I think so. How are James and Elizabet?\"\n\nHe shuddered and his mouth opened on a gasp. \"You remember this time.\"\n\nShe nodded, tears prickling behind her eyes, blurring her vision.\n\n\"I've been waiting so long for you,\" he whispered, a wobbly smile coming to his face. \"I just wanted to see you again. The children are fine.\"\n\n\"They inherited your immortality,\" she said, not phrasing it as a question.\n\nHe nodded solemnly.\n\nShe smiled, rubbing her knuckles along his familiar face. Her soul sighed. She was home again. \"I'd like to--\"\n\n\"Tuck, you have work to do--does this woman need and ambulance?\" A man dressed in a similar uniform to Tuck's stood at the end of the aisle.\n\n\"No,\" she said loudly. \"I'm okay.\"\n\nTuck nodded, tears running down his face. \"I am, too, at last.\"\n\n\n\n",
"(Bittersweet? Who needs bittersweet?)\n\n\"Don't fall, idiot.\" I called to my wife. \"You know how much it sucks to wait for you to grow up again when you die?\" \n\n\"Listen here, bitch.\" My wife, Amelia, climbed down from the roof she was working on. \"At least I get to be young again!\" Then we both burst out laughing. This was average banter between us. \n\nAmelia had gone by several incarnations- male, female, short, tall, whatever. What didn't seem to change was her personality. Always spunky and sarcastic. \n\nI was just the average immortal- alright, I guess average isn't how to word it, since I was the only immortal. The world knew me as the immortal woman who remarried every so often. It used to be a huge scandal whenever I started a relationship, but my celebrity status had mostly faded over hundreds of years. \n\n\"Yeah, and you seem to always get labeled as a genius. I can't do that, since I'm already old as shit.\" I sat back on the bench in our yard. \n\n\n\"Yeah, but you're a genius too. Anyone would be after living- how long?\"\n\n\"....I've only kept track of the years for moments like this.\" I grinned, but before I could say anything...\n\n\"9001?\"\n\n\"...Yep.\"\n",
"I never really *intended* it to be this way, you know? A sorta grandiose juxtaposition of Tuck Everlasting and Groundhog day. Not everyone expects it to end up this way when some flames of a forgotten year tell you to drink from a forbidden stream. \n\nI mean if fire told you to drink something, you'd do it. \n\nSo I drank. And I think that was... *three thousand* years ago? Maybe four at this point. Eh, doesn't really matter in the long run. I've been here for four thousand years, and probably will still be here for four thousand more. \n\nOf course things are a blur, I've had wives, daughters, sons... parents, once. Kinda strange to be honest. I've had enough kids to fill the population of Azerbaijan, but I've only have one set of parents, a mother and a father who gave birth to a single child. I don't remember them anymore, names, faces, eyes, features in general. I just know they're there. Somewhere. \n\nI've been a parent. Many times. There's no real consequences in it, for me at least. Don't want a kid? Easy, just outlive them. Don't want a wife? Run away and jump from a high bridge into the water below. Lie in that stream until you eventually wash up ashore a new town, with new faces, new ideas, new experiences. I don't want to admit how many times I've done that. \n\nIt's that consequence that drives me. A push to find someone who can actually match up with me. I mean, I'm a god in all rights but the fact of shooting lightning out of my fingertips. That's what drove me to Mallory. \n\n***\n\n*Give her a fake name, she'd never know* \n\nSo many intentions in this story, but honestly, I never intended to keep it going for that long. She'd never know who I really was, I could meld into the other faceless Tom, Ricks and Steves of the world. But I couldn't. \n\nIt was tingling, a sort of ebbing pinch in my spine that tossed a red flag in my face, I'd seen her before. At least I felt like I had, somewhere. \n\n\"I'm sorry for intruding, but have I met you before?\" \n\n***\n\nLiberty High School is where I had met her. Well, not really, I had no idea where Liberty High School even is. She gave me a \"fighting Rebels\" chant and I just mimicked her stupid and quirky throat chop movements. \n\n\"Mr. Pierre's class right?\" She asked, hand tight around her drink. Leaning comfortably against a pillar. \n\n\"Hmm?\" \n\n\"Mr. Pierre's History class!\" \n\n\"Yea totally.\" \n\nShe snorted, \"Remember that time when Mr. Pierre just *tore* into that stuck up rich kid Louis? I wonder how he's doing.\"\n\n\"Yea I remember. Never really liked him that much anyway.\" \n\nI wanted to know more. Because she didn't go to Liberty high school, with a Mr. Pierre, and Louis. I mean I maybe immortal, but I'm not dense. I lived it damn it.\n\nShe reintroduced herself as Mallory. Mallory Persaant, to be exact. French, to be exact. And incredibly intelligent, to be exact. \n\n***\n\nRan out of time :(\n\nMight add onto it later if I can",
"Immortality. We’ve all fantasized about it. We’ve all wondered what it would be like. Many have dedicated their lives to achieving it. Yet despite all this effort, nobody has actually achieved it. Or so you think.\n\nWhile you wouldn’t notice it, there are immortals all around you. They have lived for millennia, seeing all of the changes of the world. They know of their gift, and they treat it with the utmost seriousness. Some of them guard the secret better than others, but the council has ensured those that don’t cover their tracks aren’t discovered.\n\nThe immortals that do cover their tracks well move around the globe, methodically ensuring no one discovers their immortality. They could be shot in the head and get back up from it, however it does mean that their attacker must be taken care of. Those who don’t cover their tracks, however, are just as vulnerable as everyone else, and they age, however they are given the gift of reincarnation. However you can be changed between one or the other. Despite what some people may think, reincarnated immortals remember their past lives.\n\nBack in Renaissance Italy, I met a fellow immortal. At the time I was a female, a fair brunette. I had been told by the council that the man was immortal, and that apparently he had committed the crime of becoming a famous figure. My job was to inform him that his invulnerability was taken from him, and that he would be forced to reincarnate. \n\nMy problem, of course, was that I needed to get to the man to tell him this news. He was a painter, so I decided I would volunteer to be a model for him. He agreed, and he invited me into his home. As I sat down for my pose, I tried to tell him the news.\n\n“Excuse me...”\n\n“Shhh...”, he cut me off “do not break your smile. It is what makes the painting,”\n\n“But...” \n\n“N-n-n-no, do not speak. The time for words will be soon.”\n\nI sighed, defeated, and continued to pose. I waited for hours for him to call it a day, to send me back on my way so that I would have time to speak to him. But when that time came he showed me the door with no hesitation. *great,* I had thought to myself, *Now I have to actually go through with this.*\n\nSo I went to his abode again, hoping I would get a chance to speak, but as with the first day I did not. And neither did I the next day. Or the next. This kept going on until the painting was almost finished, however the silence was not broken in the way I had planned.\n\n“You’re such a fair lady,” the painter started talking out of nowhere, “It must be difficult to keep people from getting attached to you”.\n\nThe statement took me aback. Sure I had to keep men from swooning over me because I had to protect my immortality, but he didn’t know that.\n\n“What makes you think I must keep away from men?” I tried to keep my cards to my chest.\n\n“Well the council wouldn’t like it if you were to fall in love, you would be forced into a reincarnation.”\n\n“Wait!” I jerked up suddenly, “You mean to tell me you know I’m an immortal?”\n\n“Yes,” his face curved into a smug smile\n\n“Then why are you wasting my time with this painting? I obviously have news from the council!”\n\n“I already know you came to tell me I lost my invulnerability for this life, so there was no reason to hear you tell me.” He returned to painting the image, probably working on the \n\n“That still doesn’t answer my question!” I started to raise my voice “Why did you waste my time!?”\n\n“Because I’ve been looking for a model for a while, and you came right to my doorstep. I knew who you were, I knew why you were here, so I knew I could keep you coming back if you had a reason.”\n\n“Mr. da Vinci, you’re a terrible immortal. You use all of your prior knowledge to get ahead, just so some lowly mortals will respect you. In a way I pity you. Good day!” I started out of Leonardo’s house.\n\n“Until next time, Mona!” He somehow kept a cheerful attitude despite my rude remarks. \n\n“There won’t be a next time!” And I head out the door. But man, I was way off. There was in fact a next time. Many, in fact. Not in that lifetime, but due to the *Mona Lisa’s* popularity, I had lost my invulnerability in that life. I eventually died on the Italian countryside, and was reborn in Japan. \n\nI remember how relaxing it was to live in Japan. No worries of modern life, nobody paid too much attention to me. The food was good and I was happy. Amongst immortals, going to Japan to live was essentially a vacation. Most of the political turmoil, whenever it was there, was considered a minor annoyance at most. I spent most of my time in the mountains, where I could let time fly and not worry about having to move so that I’m not discovered. \n\nBut one day someone did come up to the mountains with me. It was a male, small and fragile, but with a certain stature that exclaimed he was important. When he reached the top, he simply sat next to me. We stayed there for a while, days even, and it didn’t bother me. Until I realized it had been a week since they sat down.\n\n“What does the council want?” I asked in a bored voice \n\n“The council?” The man asked “The council doesn’t want anything. **I** want something.”\n\n“Ok, what do **you** want?”I asked in a slightly irate tone.\n\n“I wanted to check up on an old friend,” the man sneered.\n\n“Old friend?” I asked quizzically.\n\n“Yes, an old friend.” The man was hinting at something\n\n“Where do I know you from?” I was thinking of all of the other immortals I had come across over the years. Very few of them acknowledged I was immortal, much less would they consider me a friend.\n\n“Well that’s not the only thing I came to you for. I wish for your hand in marriage.”\n\n“But I barely know you!”\n\n“But you’re an immortal, and so am I, and when will you get another opportunity to love someone without consequence?”\n\n“Fine, but only for this lifetime!”\n\n“No problem, now let’s get off this mountain. “\n\nTo immortals, marriage has never really been taken seriously. In a lot of situations, after death your partner will be somewhere far, far, away from you in the next life, so you learn quickly to let go. However I’ve never been in a relationship, I’ve always been more conservative. But I decided I might as well. I still didn’t know who this person was. Or at least who he *really* was. I knew his current name. Although I didn’t know his current title.\n\nHe was a fucking emperor!\n\nI don’t remember how he kept that fact from me until after our marriage. I just remember one day being brought before the people of Japan and learning I’m empress. And because of that the council took my invulnerability away for that life.\n\n I remember getting mad at my new husband after this was revealed to me. “Don’t you think you should’ve told me you’re the emperor!? Don’t you think I would’ve liked to avoid death!?” He just sneered and simply said “This’ll never get old”. I looked at him in shock. “You mean to say you’ve done this before!?” He looked at me with his smug grin “Don’t you remember me, Mona?” He broke out into laughter as I buried my head in embarrassment that I fell for his game again.\n\nBut it wasn’t the last time I would. Life after life, they would find their way to me, and some way or another would find me fame. They sent me on a voyage to the new world and gave me fame as Christopher Columbus. They framed me for killing people when I was a fellow named Jack in London. He wrote a book about a new political ideal called communism, then said I wrote it. The most recent time he’s done this to me was when he got me in to racing. Little did I know that I would be any good, and that “Dale Earnhardt” would become famous. \n\nThe immortal formerly known as Leonardo DaVinci has been an annoyance since the day I had to run that errand for the council. He is the reason I’ve died so many times over. But other than that, he’s been great to have around. He’s always been a nice guy, just a nice guy that causes me to die. And his game is kind of fun. I have actually returned the favor once, when he went by the name of Tupac Shakur. He had a lot of poetry that he had wrote and memorized during his existence, and I revealed it to some people and next thing I know he’s making music. I ended up killing him one night for laughs, and I haven’t seen him since.\n\nCurrently I am a male high school student on a trip to France with my family. I have a mother, father, and an older brother who decided he didn’t want to go to college and just spends most of his time writing anonymous stories online for cash. We are currently visiting the Louvre, and for the the first time in my existence, I actually get to see the painting that started the game. \n\nI don’t know why, but I’m underwhelmed by it. Maybe it’s because my expectations were extremely high after centuries’ worth of anticipation, but honestly I don’t think it’s as good as everyone says it is. Then again I’ve never been an artist, so what do I know. But my brother, on the other hand, is a connoisseur of art. I ask him what he thinks of it. \n\n“Honestly, it’s not DaVinci’s best work, but it’s definitely a well made piece. I’m not exactly sure, but if I were DaVinci, I would probably be wishing that a different artwork of his was hanging here. Unless of course it holds a sentimental value to him.” He was staring at the Mona Lisa as closely as I was, maybe even more so. And then he said something under his breath, almost too quiet to hear. \n\n“I’m going to find you, Mona.”\n\n*Fuck.*"
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Could be a world where others have powers or not.
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[WP] Your special power lets you know how many times you've seen an object or person. You see the highest number you've ever seen right as you're run off the road...
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"Normally I have to really focus to see the numbers. To be able to tell. It was fun to do to pass the time on the streets. Good for parties too, always knowing the answer to \"Have you two been introduced?\"\nOr check how far your obsession with the cute barista has gone...\nBut today the number threw itself at me. It looked so unfamiliar, a car covered in cameras hurtling towards me. I swerved to avoid it, off the road, the car flipped. The last thing I thought before I lost consciousness was \"How many is a Google anyway?\"",
"*7,384,368,468,846*\n\n*That blue haired girl... 7,384,368,468,846 times? How is that possible?*\n\n*My head hurts. I'm bleeding? What happened? I'm upside down. Okay... I'm upside down? Why the fuck am I upside down? Wait! I'm in my car. Why am I in my car? My head hurts. Okay, concentrate. I was driving back home, then I saw that girl with the...*\n\n-Hey! Are you okay?\n\n-What?\n\n-Are. You. Okay?\n\n-I'm bleeding and my head hurts. *Who is this?*. Can you help me?\n\n-Sure! Can you open the door?\n\n-I'll try... I'll push and you pull. Okay? *I hope this works*\n\n-Okey dokey!\n\n*Come on! Open! Open damnit! Open!*\n\n*It worked! Now to unfastened the seatbelt without falling on my head*\n\n-Be careful..\n\n*Fuck! That hurt. At least I'm out of the chair*\n\n-Grab my hand. I'll help you out.\n\n*Wow. I'm out. I'm alive. That was so close*\n\n-Thank you for hel... **You!**. It's you!\n\n-You're welcome! Of course it's me. Who else would it be?\n\n-I saw you! Right before I got run off the road. I saw you!\n\n-I saw you, too! That's why I came here.\n\n-Who are you?\n\n-You're sooo mean. You know who I am!\n\n-No I don't. I never saw you in my life.*As far as I know*\n\n-Come on. You saw me like... 7,384,368,468,846 times before. \n\n*She knows? How could she know that?*\n\n-How did you?\n\n-I know everything about you!\n\n-Who are you?\n\n-Oh, you silly goose. ***I'm Death.***"
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[WP] "In my dreams I do everything right."
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"\"Well this time it isn't a dream,\" she said to him, moving closer to give him a kiss.\n\nHe woke up, kissing his pillow. \"I knew it,\" he muttered, punching his pillow out of frustration before getting up to get ready for school.\n\nAt school he saw her again, like in his dreams. Walking down the hallway with her friends. Usually, she passed him by. This time she noticed him staring before he could look away.\n\nShe said something to her friends, then came over to him. Alone. \n\n\"Hey,\" she said.\n\nHe blinked. *Was this really happening?*\n\n\"I noticed you watching me,\" she went on, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear in a way that could have been taking as being flirtatious.\n\n*Or it could've just been her tucking a strand of hair behind her... Be cool, man* he warned himself.\n\nShe smiled and tilted her head to the side. \"Do you talk?\" \n\nHe stared, his mouth still haven't caught up to his mind yet. \n\nShe giggled and stood up on the tip of her toes to whisper in his ear, \"I like quiet guys.\"\n\nHe looked on, too shocked to believe that this was happening. His back hit the locker as she gently pushed him off balance and pressed her body against him.\n\n\"I don't usually do this,\" she confessed, leaning in closer to give him a kiss.\n\nHe woke up, kissing his pillow. The alarm clock said he had to get ready for school. He buried his face in his pillow and screamed in frustration, then got out of bed to get ready.\n\nHe saw her at school again. She passed him by with her group of friends. Like she usually did. Somehow, he felt hurt and relieved at the same time.\n\nThe next time he saw her was at lunch. Of course she sat at the popular table, where he could only watch her from a table close by. Today it looked like her and her boyfriend, Brad, were having an argument.\n\n\"I didn't look at her ass!\" Brad swore.\n\nShe narrowed her eyes at him and hissed, \"You're a pig, you know that?\" \n\nBefore he could reply, she grabbed her tray, stood up, fixed her eyes on him and made her way over to his table.\n\n\"Mind if I sit here?\" she asked angrily.\n\nHe shook his head and gestured to the empty seat. She sat down.\n\n\"I want you to make it look like we're having a good time, capiche?\"\n\nHe nodded. She threw her head back and roared with laughter. Brad looked on jealously from the other table\n\nShe brought her head back down. Her eyes were filled to the brim with joyful tears as she exclaimed, \"You're so funny!\" \n\nThen she whispered: \"Is he looking? Brad, is he looking?\"\n\nHe looked over. Brad looked like he was having a good time. Another girl had scooted her way into the seat beside him. He was flexing his biceps and the new girl was poking them and giggling with delight.\n\nWhen he told her, she seethed and said, \"We have to turn it up a notch. Let's kiss.\"\n\n*Are you serious?* He wondered, just before his hormones took over and he shrugged. *Screw it.* \n\nShe leaned closer to give him a kiss.\n\nHe woke up, kissing his pillow. The alarm clock said it was time to get ready for school, and he hit it with the pillow that he threw.\n\nThis time she passed by him in the hallway, stayed at her table for lunch, and they didn't see each other until school was over and they were all getting into the bus.\n\n\"Mind if I sit by you?\" she asked. She wasn't smiling like in the dream in the hallway; or frowning, like the dream at lunch. She just looked...sad. \n\n*Could this be real this time?* He thought.\n\n\"No,\" he told her.\n\nShe blinked, and he saw a bit of tears. She went to go sit with another boy, and soon they were laughing and joking together.\n\nBrad was in the back with another girl, and he later found out that he had broken up with her right there on the bus.\n\nThe whole ride home, he kept waiting for his alarm to blare, for him to wake up in bed and have to get ready for school again.\n\nBut it never happened.\n\nThe last one was real.\n\n\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] You were a very powerful villain. You were defeated, causing you to lose most your powers and memories. Your pathetic form is found by a group of young, ingenious wannabe heroes who take you under their wing. One day your lost memories and strength return, but you don't want to be evil anymore.
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"Who am I?\n\nOnly yesterday, my friends and I were hunting down the last vestiges of villains and criminals across the world, aspiring to make our names as some of the greatest super heroes on the planet. And yet, when they discovered the hiding place of one of the last villains at large, I looked him in the eye, and I knew him. \n\nWe had never encountered him before, yet somehow, I knew him. In the same way you could never forget your childhood friend’s face, I could not forget his. The Doctor, he called himself. His abilities were...\n\nIt was in that moment that everything came back to me, like a tidal wave crashing into the beach. The alliance I had created, and led, from behind my own mask. All of these “heroes” we brought low, in order to make the others remember why they became heroes in the first place. Most of these modern day heroes simply wanted fame and fortune, and we believed-no, I believed-that such inspirations were fleeting, and would not convict most of these self-titled heroes to answer the call when a true threat faced them. \n\nI was right. \n\nThe more heroes we brought down, the more of their peers hung up their suits and masks. We were succeeding. True heroes for the people began to rise from the crop, establishing their virtue in my eyes. \n\nIn a way, I was proud. Though I fought against them, threatened not only their lives, but the lives of their families, strangers, even their own minds, they did not waver. These heroes rose to the challenge, though eventually, I was beaten.\n\nAnd here I was, nearly two years later, bringing down the closest thing I once had to a friend. My chest tightened. How could I have done this? Not only had I betrayed the people with my former actions, but now I had betrayed an old friend. And what of my new friends? The ones who call themselves heroes, fighting for the ability to care for their families? \n\nWhat would they think, once they found out who I was? They all know what I’ve done, though they don’t realize who I am. We’ve constantly traded jabs and stories, wishing we were the ones who had the opportunity to bring down the Red Hand. And now, together, we’ve brought down the last of the villains, essentially ridding the world of the need for heroes. What was I supposed to do? It pains me now, to think of what I’ve done. The people I’ve hurt, even killed. The families I tore apart. The men and women whose livelihoods I ruined. I never want to do those things again; I’ve found a peace in helping, in saving lives and homes, both from villains and natural disasters. And yet, how can I continue to help the same people, knowing it was on my orders that their very lives were torn apart in the first place. My stomach twisted around itself into knots, forcing me to the ground in pain. \n\nBut I can’t turn myself in. I refuse to serve any manner of sentence for my actions. Why should I be punished, when all I was trying to do was create better heroes, who would be ready when fate called upon them to sacrifice themselves for the greater good? \n\nAnd yet, the world no longer needed my new friends. Without any villains to defeat, without consistent ways to maintain their status as heroes, their compensation would suffer. They would lose the ability to provide and care for their families. How could I force that existence upon them, making them suffer through normal jobs and lives, after they had a taste of greatness? \n\nI, on the other hand, was alone. \n\nI had always been alone. \n\nIt would be selfish of me to take this profession away from my friends, knowing full well I could give them a reason to continue fighting. Knowing that I could help them provide for their loved ones by reclaiming my old status. \n\n“Everything alright, Liam? You look live you’ve just seen a ghost,” Dante, my most staunch supporter these last two years asked. \n\nI looked up, barely able to see through the despair welling up in my eyes as a single drop of pain fell down my cheek, and gave a weak smile. \n\n“I’ll be fine,” I spat, my voice nearly breaking with every word. My hand began to glow red, and when the horror of realization crossed my frie-no, my enemies’- faces, I knew I could never go back again. \n\nI am the Red Hand. \n\n\n\n\n//ended up being longer than I thought, but I did this in about 20 minutes on my phone, so I apologize for any grammatical or spelling errors! Questions, criticism, and comments are all appreciated. ",
"“What’s wrong, Max?”\n\nSpeedBoy looked at me with those youthful and energetic eyes. I cannot describe the images that flash through my mind. There’s no way the sheer horror I’m feeling isn’t manifesting itself on my face.\n\n“Max? Why are you just standing there?”\n\nRoot Master’s face started displaying some concern. Crap… How could I have forgotten? Maximus Destruction… That was what I was known for just a few months ago...After losing to Captain Ice and thought dead, I returned to my normal, juvenile body… Sure, I still have powers… But, after my defeat, instead of being able to move continents with my mind, I could only levitate small objects… Now I remember how to access my hidden strength...\n\n“Hey, Two Crows! Go check if Max is alright, will you?”\n\nThe two sisters came flying in my direction, concerned for my well being. No! I don’t deserve this! I caused the death of about a fourth of the population of Australia when connecting it to Asia! A world without borders was what I wanted… I wanted to create mutual understanding between all of us humans, no matter the nation. The water between us was another barrier to bring down, no matter the cost… for the good of humanity in the long term… \n\n“Darling, are you alright?”\n\n“Sister… the blank stare in Max’s eyes… could it be.. SpeedBoy, I think he’s getting his \nmemories back!”\n\nThe world’s geography wasn’t the problem… I wanted to bring people together by force, never having bothered to try and relate to people... To make friends… To have someone who cared for me... I always blamed it on external factors growing up, but being part of this team, this family, for the last half a year opened my eyes. \n\n“What?! Max! Is it true?”\n\nSpeedBoy sprinted to me in a blink of an eye, enthusiasm filling his voice. I finally feel like I belong somewhere. I want to keep chasing petty thieves down the streets, facing the occasional bad guy with my newly found friends. I am happy now. \n\nWith a jerky motion I snap out of my introspection, only to find all my bright eyed companions patiently waiting in a circle around me.\n\n“So, have you figured out who you are?”\n\nI scratched my head and laughed uncomfortably before figuring out what to say.\n\n“Well… yes, I did! I… I was an orphan… I wanted to be a superhero when I was a kid at the orphanage, to be part of a team like I am now... Remember how you found me in the place Captain Ice fought Maximus Destruction? I watched them brawl. After Ice’s final blow, I felt some energy channeling itself into my body. It must have been too much for my body to handle, so I was in the state in which you found me. You all are the best thing that ever happened to me…”\n\nI smiled, holding back the tears that formed in my eyes, result of the realization that now I had what I always wanted. I had to lie for now… I couldn’t tell them who I used to be… But all my other feelings were genuine. In time, when I had proved myself the hero that I always wanted to be, they will know the truth, and hopefully forgive me for falsehood. The Two Crows laughed in unison like they usually do, and everyone else helped me up while the older one spoke.\n\n“Maximus Destruction? That old bastard did something good after all! If he was still around I’d thank him personally for giving us such a charming little brother.”\n\nI chuckled nervously and started running to our destination, motioning to my companions to hurry up.\n\n“Come on, let’s find out which one of Mrs. Clarkson’s cats ran away this time.”\n\n*EDIT: Spelling*",
"\"Once, I was a god. Nothing can stop me. Nothing has ever stopped me. I am a force of nature, and you recognized this. You see that you cannot stop me, so you try to change me. I d not see the sense in resisting. I will try what you say. Once.\"\n\n\"Thank you.\"",
"I defy my fate. \nWho are we if not the sum of our experiences? Our hopes, dreams and aspirations? I never _wanted_ to be evil. Chaotic neutral at best, but never evil. I guess it just turned out that way. Thanks to this wonderful, but ignorant band of adventurers, friends, I know who I was. _Was_ is important there, I am no longer that man. \n\nWhilst I've got you here, I may as well tell you who and what exactly I am. Currently I am Aryte Lafayette; the Lizardfolk Cleric of the group named me such after fighting alongside the party for the first time. It means 'Survivor' in his tongue, the Bard seemed to think Lafayette fit, so that's what I chose as my \"new\" surname. I'm not even sure I count as new, maybe just misplaced. I digress, that is who I currently am, previously I was Xardos Blackwing, Scourge of Drevalor, Killing of Kings and Keeper of the Black. Impressive, I know. \n\nWhen my little memory mishap occured, I could do only the most basic of things. Like tear out a Drow's throat with my teeth because my hands were bound. Since visiting the Tower of Mirros, (who, incidentally, keeps a large quantity of memory mirrors,) I have been able to tap into the dread power. To be honest though, I'm not sure I want to. My magic is... let's just say it definitely has its own visual brand to it. So, I've set the party up for a reason to destroy all my Dread holdings across the country. We'll all get paid extremely well, plus I know where the loot is, and how to get it, in my own fortresses. \n\nMy minions are in disarray, this is definitely good for us, but not my prior reputation. I've been making telepathic contact with my generals, they're moving my forces out as I dictate. Enough to give us a window to enter the Black Tower unhindered. Obviously, I could just walk in and announce my presence, but that defeats the point of all this spectacle. I've taken to wearing a full plate helm, to stop those that serve me from recognition, bad enough I'm slaughtering them, they don't need to know that it's me doing it. Funnily enough, I feel a twinge of remorse for all this murder. Some of these minions, these Orcs and Trolls and Elves and Undead, I had known for decades. I personally taught several of those currently dead on the floor in the art of Necromancy, but what can you do?\n\nFinally we reach the throne room. Obviously somebody needed to be there, so I enthralled a young village boy to pose as me. It's not evil, this doesn't show my old habits coming back. He was a burden to his family and I compensated them well, with money, not death. He greets us, we do that funny bit of back and forth banter as one is wont to do in these situations. He goes to \"cast\" something, but obviously has no magic potential. I interrupt him to keep up the illusion; the party each have their own separate bone to pick with me, him, whatever. The Cleric had his family burned and his village razed. The Bard had his sister enslaved as a concubine by one of the designated barons. The Wizard's mentor was turned into a sheep, butchered and fed to his students and finally, the Ranger had his tongue cut out for speaking out of turn with a general in my armed forces. \n\nThe man known as Xardos is dead. As dead as a personality can be anyway, we killed the patsy, I've given him funerary rites and laid his spirit to rest. I made of point of having him repent in his death throes. Unfortunately, the castle will- \n_thwick thwick_ \nTwo arrows embed themselves into the back of the kneeling man. One by one, the different party members go up to speak their mind. Their campaign finally over. \n\n\"Aryte isn't 'Survivor', it is 'War'. My first thought upon seeing you was the war that will follow your death. The destruction of our homes once again.\" The Cleric stepped back, to be replaced by the Bard. \n\"Did you really think we wouldn't recognise you? Your face has been all over posters and flyers and everything for fifteen bloody years! Our stories weren't untrue ones, your baron really did enslave and rape my sister until her untimely death. It's not bad motivation to end a regime.\" The Bard wiped tears from his face and stepped back, the Wizard taking his place. \n\"You literally made me eat the man that raised me, taught me what I knew and instilled a sense of morality, of values onto me. And what for? Because he refused to be conscripted into your Black Army?\" The Wizard spits on the kneeling figure, \"You disgust me.\" He turns and walks to the entrance, keeping an eye out for any approaching guards, despite knowing that they are all dead. The Ranger, robbed of his ability to confront his tormentor, merely knocks another arrow, it pierces the skull of kneeling tyrant, killing him perhaps far quicker than he deserved. \n\nUpon leaving, the party would be asked about their final member. The guilty secret that died for a just revenge. They could never bring themselves to reveal the truth, they just claimed that Aryte Lafayette had been killed by the Black King; which was true, he had been killed by his previous actions. Guilt still riddled their hearts however, never able to reconcile the killing of a man who wanted to change. They all killed themselves in different ways, one by one. The Ranger went first, unable to confess to his guilt, it consumed him, eventually, he hanged himself off a tree. The Wizard ventured into more and more dangerous magic, his bloodlust not yet sated, he sought a way to call the soul of his nemesis until eventually, his own soul was torn asunder. The Bard drank until his liver failed, he pissed away his fortune on cheap booze and cheaper sex. After that, he borrowed more and more money until he was eventually found, drowned in a beer casket. The Cleric, his faith shaken, fought in war after bloody war, slowly accumulating scars and wounds, trying to restore his broken belief. He died beaten and bloody, surrounded by three dozen enemies, arrows protruding from his back, daggers in his chest, he ascended to the Fields of War, where he was promptly denied entry, his motivation had been untrue. Thus ended the party.\n\n\n\n\n\n_Hi there, /u/Green_Warlock here. If you have an critique of the above story, feel free to leave a comment! I'm still pretty new to posting these, so any advice is appreciated! EDIT: Added more detail to the end and fixed some spelling._"
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Although I'm hoping for some funny tales, I don't think anything can compare to the time Giraffe-man had to lie for 6 hours in the aisle of a Megabus to Milton Keynes, because his convertible was in the garage...
I might add to this text with other heroic tales I come up with..
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[WP]Spider-man, Ant-man, Batman, Catwoman... Invent a new animal-man/woman superhero and regale me with a tale of said individual
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"Captain Williams stared the man in disbelief. He was an older man, with a white beard and mustache. It was his attire, however, that caused Captain Williams to stare. He wore a yellow rain poncho over an old blue sweater and wore a matching rain hat. In his left hand he held a large fishing net and, in his right, was an even larger trident.\n\"Can I... Can I help you, sir?\" Williams asked. The man said nothing for a few moments but when he finally spoke the room filled with the scent of seawater.\n\"Aye, ye can be helpin' me,\" the man said. \"I be catchin' wind that somethin' be smellin'... a little fishy, ye might say.\" Captain Williams raised an eyebrow. \"In fact,\" the man continued, \"I be herring that ye be needin' some help with a case ye've got?\"\n\"There is a particular case regarding a suspicious death at the old fish factory down by the docks that we've asked members of the public to come forward with any details about,\" Williams admitted.\n\"Holy mackerel!\" the man shouted. \"That fish factory be where it happened!\" Williams stepped back in alarm.\n\"Where what happened?\" The man smiled broadly, sweeping his arm sideways and nearly clearing Williams' desk with his trident.\n\"There I be,\" he said, \"working for Jimmy the Rat. But I failed him, see, and he tells me that I be sleepin' with the fishes from now on! And he made good on his promise, he did. Gave me a pair o' cement shoes and everythin'. But them fishes, they take a likin' to me, see? And they's frees me from them shoes. But somethin' be wrong, I thinks to meself. I feels weird. Like I drowned. But pollocks, I couldn't'a drowned, 'cause I'm livin'. But there's something in me sole, something strange...\" He trailed off.\n\"Sir...?\"\n\"Tells ye what!\" the man shouted, slapping his hand down on the desk. \"If I sees anythin', I'll be sure to tell ye, and if ye needs me, ye let minnow!\" He turned to go, leaving wet footprints as he strode towards the door.\n\"And how would I get in touch with you, sir?\" Williams asked.\n\"Out there,\" the man said, his eyes getting misty, \"between the devil and the deep blue sea... Just ask for the Salmon.\"",
"It's a lesser known fact about super heroes that we don't always get to name ourselves. The press and televised news media often does it for us. Once some clever journalist or news anchor slaps a catchy name onto a crime fighter, it tends to stick, even if it's a far cry from the name he or she would have preferred. I know this all too well.\n\nBeing a crime fighting hero was my dream since as long as I could remember. I followed all the news about the latest capers and daring acts of courage. PE was the class I excelled at, but I poured myself into math and science because those are important parts of the job too. Being a girl hero, I knew I'd have to try even harder in order to stand out and be taken seriously, so anytime I got tired and wanted to take a break, I'd think of all the people who'd laugh at me for \"fighting like a girl\" if I wasn't in tip top shape and that gave me motivation to run another lap or do another hour of study.\n\nAfter years of private self training, I decided that I was ready to give it a try shortly after I turned 22. I spent six months working my costume. Every bit of it was modeled off of the gray wolf, most fierce of the existing species of canines roaming the earth. The boots and gloves looked like paws and had retractable claws that could do some serious damage. My throwing knives were in the shape of fangs. The mask was the best part, it offered excellent protection to the skull, night vision, a radio that could tune into police scanners and looked as close to a real wolf as I could make it.\n\nMy first mission was a success. I got wind of The Domino Delinquents trying to shake down a bunch of rich folk at a charity ball, and I knocked the spots off them. When the reporter and the photographer talked to me, I told them my name (The Mighty She-Wolf!) but it didn't make a difference. Given my height, or rather, the lack thereof (I'm 4,11), it shouldn't have surprised me when the headline in The Spring City Gazette called me... Lady Chihuahua. ",
"##The Wizard of the Rats##\n\nThe sewer was cold, the concrete slick was shit and slime. It stunk to high heaven, the slowly floating corpses of toilet paper forming an almost impassable web.\n\n\"Do you see anything, mate?\" I called into my radio. Apparently, there were rats, hundreds of millions of them, burrowing under the city. I'd never bought into the bullshit, but the experts said something was wrong with them. They'd been getting too big or -\n\nSomething splashed only a few feet away, oily and wet, but small.\n\nI shined my flashlight on the ripples, my eyes scanning for it. Beady black eyes, hundreds of them, slowly drifted around my feet.\n\nI gulped.\n\n\"Mikey? Do you hear me? I found the rats.\"\n\nSilence.\n\nA figure emerged, sliding out from the side of the tunnel. He was old, ancient, his long, withered fingers tightly wrapped around a wooden flute. A devious smile had smeared itself across his face, and his missing teeth hissed with the foul air.\n\nHe put the disgusting instrument to his lips, and the water shivered with rage.\n\nHundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands, no, millions, ran. Gnawing, chattering teeth. I felt them burrow into my flesh, through my eyes and my arse, up my dick and down my mouth, through my ears, chewing away at my heart and lungs, the sinew that tore and brain.\n\nI scream rat into the sewer, and a hundred more clambered in.\n\nThen, with a certain sickly grace, the rat-filled suit rose into the air, it's moving jerking with every note of the old man.\n\nThe Wizard of the Rats had arrived."
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[WP] Google's advertisement services have become so accurate that you can tell what's going to happen in your day just by looking at the ads you see. One day you see an advertisement for funeral services.
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"Four years ago I was kidnapped. I went to his house thinking I was going to buy a microwave on Craigslist. He led me to a room then he locked the door which couldn't be unlocked from the inside. \n\nWhen he would need me he would let me out at keep a close eye on me. If I disobeyed even the slightest he would beat me until I had several wounds.\n\nOne thing that was nice is that he let me use his computer. At the time I didn't realize it, but it was his way of giving me a something to do so I don't think about how to escape. He monitored my computer use via remote session very closely so I could just google how to escape. I did find some comfort in playing video games and looking at Facebook as long as I didn't mention anything about being a kidnapping victim.\n\nAs I was googling something, I don't remember what, but that's not important. I saw ads for funeral services. I knew google has targeted ads. Was this real? Was I going to die? Would the abuse be too much? Perhaps a suicide? No it can't be! It's just a coincidence! \n\nThoughts raced through my mind the whole day. I couldn't stop thinking about my death. I couldn't contact my friends or family. I started crying for hours. \n\nIn the middle of crying I had a thought come to mind. \"You're a Christian and you've made no attempt to pray, attend church or read your Bible.\" \n\nI felt so guilty for letting God down. This could be my last day on earth. I need to repent. I opened my Bible and began reading. I read about the life of Christ. I read his teachings. His parables, but what struck me the most is when he said \"Love your enemies\". \n\nI broke down and cried again. I had hated this man for such a long time and felt absolutely no shame in doing so. I immediately knelt down and prayed that I would be able to love and forgive this man. I prayed that he would be forgiven also.\n\nMy prayer was interrupted by the sound of cops breaking in. I heard bullets fly through the house. Then suddenly, silence.\n\nHelp me! I screamed. Within seconds the police opened the door to the room I was locked in.\n\nI saw my kidnapper dead on the floor. This was when I realized. The ad wasn't for my funeral. It was his. \n\nI had one last chance to show my respect for him. I organized a funeral for him. He didn't have any friends that I knew of. His family never visited. The whole time we were together not one person visited. After reconnecting with my friends and family. I invited them to the funeral of my kidnapper. Some of them agreed to attend and others believed it was a stupid choice and he didn't deserve this much respect. I stood firm in my decision. I would pay him respect.\n\n I searched through his things. Looking for what his life was like.\n\nI discovered he participated in something called mk ultra. I figured it was some kind of gang or mafia. I googled it to learn more. It was a mind control expirament by the CIA involving drugs and torture. I found and old journal of his. He used to be a good husband and father. He was very kind to everyone. He decided to volunteer for an expirament because of his passion for science. Everything went south from there.\n\nI eventually found his family on Facebook. I invited them to the funeral. \n\nThe words of his daughter really touched my heart.\n\n\"Thank you for loving my father. He's a very nice respectful man who has some problems with his mind. I never thought that after he was a part of mk ultra that anyone would ever respect him again. I tried desperately to contact him with no success. I knew where he lived, but I could never visit him because I was afraid.\"\n\nIt was in that moment that I truly felt sorry for him.\n\nI was relieved that I learned to love him. I was happy to see him get the respect he deserved."
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[WP] You had finally done it, you had finally kissed the love of your life, and just like you were told, time had stopped. What you weren’t expecting was for it to still be stopped when you pulled away.
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"There he is again... that beautiful man who makes my heart skip a beat and my mind go blank. The way he walked in the room was just like anyone else. But when he does it I can’t find the words to speak to him. I try not to stare but I can’t seem to stop, hopefully he doesn’t notice. \n\nMy coworker Julie walks back to her desk as I’m gazing at him. “You ok?” She asks, turns and sees him, “Ohh your boyfriend is in today, Huh? Why don’t you talk to him?”. \n“Shut up! He’s not my boyfriend.” I say disappointedly.“Either way, I have nothing to say to him anymore. Not after last time, when he came to borrow a pen and practically spoke in tongues.” \n“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad! You mumbled at him and he giggled said thanks and walked back to his bay.” She said attempting to put me at ease. \n“I’m not like you I have too much shame. I easily get embarrassed because I tend to speak before I think. Let’s just go back to work. Okay?!” I put my headphones on and try to get my work done. \n\nI feel a tap on my shoulder, assuming it was Julie again, “What now?! Ohh I’m sorry! I thought you were Jules.” \n“Sorry, didn’t mean to bother you.” He said in a quiet sexy voice. “I was wondering if you have any plans this weekend?” \nI foolishly look around and question him, “Who me?” \nHe laughs and says, “Of course you, silly! I was hoping you’d want to come see the new Star Wars movie with me. I know you like Sci-fi and stuff. Thought we could go get dinner first, ya know, like a date?”\nMy heart was in my throat. Jeff, this gorgeous man who is good with his hands, intelligent, a bit nerdy, smells like he just got out the shower all day even after working on car after car, wants to go out with me! I swear I was dreaming. \n“Well?” He says after waiting a decent amount of time. \n“YES!” I replied practically screaming in his face. \nHe grabbed my phone and put his number in and text himself, “I’ll pick you up at 7 ! Text me you address. See ya tonight” \n\nAs he walked away I felt this glow in me like something was lit that never was before. The rest of the day flew by after that. I went home, showered and picked out the little black dress I bought if I ever had a reason to wear one. \nFinished getting ready and I felt like something was missing. Did a quick check in the mirror, I looked myself over to see what I was missing. Ran over to my jewelry box to find something to wear that would complete my look. Scouring through I found this old gem stone necklace my gypsy aunt gave me. As go to put it on, my phone went off and my nervousness kicked in I felt drop down my top. He was downstairs waiting for me. I put my shoes on and hurry down the stairs. \n\nI get in the car and we get to the restaurant nothing fancy. We ate, well he ate I was so nervous I picked and brought my food home. “Sorry I hope it doesn’t make your car smell like chicken!” “It’s fine, don’t worry!” He said to me as he took my hand to walk to the car. He opens my door and let’s me in as he closes the door he notices my necklace hanging out the top of my dress. I put it on the right way now that I can and my nerves are a little more at ease. We go in to the movie. He watched so intensely, I barely paid attention. We went back to the car he drove me home. \n“I had a really great time tonight, can I walk you to your door?” \nSmiling ear to ear, I reply, “Surely I’d like that.” \nWe get to my door and I felt that nervous rush, he leaned in and kissed me ! I almost forgot to kiss him back I was so excited! I swear time had stopped from that moment our lips locked. I opened my door and said goodnight. Walking in I saw my cat a sleep in her bed. I went to my room and got changed next thing I know I hear a loud banging on my door! I rush over and it’s Jeff. I opened it and told him to come in. He looked crazed like something was amiss. He just kept pacing and mumbling. I stopped him and asked “What happen?!”.\n“It stopped !”\n“What stopped?”\n“Time! All of it! Look for yourself nothing works right. My phone, my car, the elevator and worst the people and animals even!” He said sweating like crazy out of fear. \nI go to my cat and pet her to get a reaction, nothing! I run out of the apartment and bang on every door on my floor, no one. My phone wouldn’t turn on or the tv, the clock said 1139 since I walked in. \n\nLooking at me with tears in his eyes, “Did we do this ?!”\nI kiss him hoping it would calm him, he smiles but looks scared still. Looking at me he notices my necklace is glowing, he kisses me again and sees it glow brighter. \n“That’s it ! That’s why ! Where did you get this ?!” He shouts. \n“My estranged aunt gave it to me when I was younger I’ve never worn it but it looked good with my dress so I put it on. Why what’s wrong with it ?” \n“It’s cursed! Take it off!” \n“Don’t be silly! It can’t be.” I reply not sure if I should listen or not. \nI take it off as he kept insisting, and put it down on the table. I hear my cat meow my text tone go off and a car alarm outside go off. I look at the clock it’s only 1140. \n“Do you know what this means?!” He says with great energy. “We can take our time together and do everything we want. And when you take that off time goes back. We have a pause button for the world!” \n"
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[WP] An exquisitely eloquent barbarian is explaining the tactical plan for retrieving a well-guarded treasure to the other companions in the fellowship.
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"It was a fairly busy night at the tavern, the bartenders were constantly running to keep up with the empty ale tankards. They wove expertly between the crowded benches, dodging flailing limbs as they went. A cloud of smoke hung low as more than one client lit up a pipe or the chimney, still clogged by soot and other debris, let out a a large burp of ash. This late in the evening the floor was tacky with the spills of several unmentionable liquids. It was here that our heroes regrouped to brainstorm their next action.\n\nCrammed together in the centre of one long bar table, between a group of burly hillsmen kit out in tribal leather and fur regalia, and a pair of bugbears trying to drink each other under the table, that the small party of four bent close together, elbows up, murmuring below the racket. The elbows had become a necessity, the battle for space on the bench was ongoing as one bugbear swung to his left a little *too* wildly.\n\n\"I don't get it.\" One of the four kept repeating. He held his head in his hands, careful to keep his elbow aimed at righthand neighbor who was now on his tenth tankard. Human, he had a stubbled beard, and was wearing drab beige clothing.\n\n\"Sweetie, that's because you never understand anything.\" At this the lady of the party leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. She smirked, her lips leaving a lingering red mark on the man's skin.\n\n\"It's simple, really.\" This came from the smallest member of the group. Due to his size he was kneeling on the bench. Instead of an elbow, he simply held a dagger casually in one hand, warding off even the drunkest of patrons from accidentally sitting on him. People always noticed a knife. Around his neck was the insigna of Pelor. \"That fellow-\" he pointed with his knife, \"is our mark. He'll lead us to the vault.\"\n\nThe first man turned to look where the blade was pointed. A solid blow to the head made him spin.\n\n\"Oy!\"\n\n\"Stop staring!\" The woman hissed.\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"I think, what Vera means, is you're being too obvious Wiliam.\" The arch tones came from the fourth member of the gathering. A hulking lump of half-orc, his lips curled around his tusks with each word. \"Really, we can't have you raising our mark's suspicions by oggling him every time Aruna waves his dagger. It would defeat the entire purpose of going in cognito. Speaking of which, do you have to do that Aruna?\"\n\nThe halfling was now picking bits of placque from his teeth with the tip of his blade, inspecting the results with a scrutinizing squint each time.\n\n\"Sorry Grashos, just blending in.\" Aruna flashed a mischevious grin at the orc, who's disapproving frown only accentuated his ugly mug.\n\n\"We may be pretending to be regular drunks in this dismal den, that doesn't mean you have to emulate them constantly. I'm starting to wonder if you're truly a devotee of Pelor.\"\n\n\"Pelor is most forgiving.\" Now the halfling smiled benevolently, but when Grashos turned to accept a new pitcher of water from the barmaid, he flicked the placque toward one of the hillsmen. It stuck to the man's long dreaded hair.\n\n\"I can understand waiting and following the guy, but do we really have to wear these clothes? They're so... plain.\" William's expression was pained as he pinched his sleeve. \"And with a crowd like this I could have earned some great tips with my lute. Why couldn't we just pose as performers? At least then we'd be squashed to death in style.\" He jabbed the bugbear to his right yet again with an elbow.\n\n\"Poor baby.\" Vera murmured. She hid her mouth with one delicate hand. The room was so loud that no one heard her hushed snigger.\n\n\"It's elementary William. Bright colours attract people's attention. We don't want attention. In fact we want the opposite. That's why we're wearing normal clothing. Comprende?\" Grashos took a large gulp of water, spilling half of it down his front. \"Additionally, the chance of anyone hearing you under this cacphony, let alone recognizing the unique talent you possess and appreciating it properly with coin is, well, nil. You a far too exceptional to waste yourself on these folks. Besides, the you'd probably find your tips were spilt beer and knawed bones.\"\n\nWilliam shuddered.\n\n\"Stay sharp fellows, I'm going to use the lou.\" Grashos slammed his empty pitcher on the table and wiped the back of his mouth with a hand the size of a dinner plate. \"Do make sure you stay sober. We can't lose our mark, not this time.\"\n\n\"How long are you planning to go?\" Aruna jeered. William groaned.\n\n\"He's never going to let me live that down, will he?\" The man questioned. Vera clung to his arm, using it to brace herself as she aimed a graceful kick at the sodden dwarf attempting to slip into Grashos' now empty spot.\n\n\"Oh I'm sure he will eventually, peacock. But not for a very, very, long while.\"\n"
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[WP] August 3, 5318, the Interstellar Communications Consortium receives the following message: "Voyager 1. Contact."
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"\"Voyager 1. Contact\"\n\nThe aliens on board began to laugh.\n\nThe scarred probe continued on its path. The spaceship pulled up next to it and activated its tractor beam. Voyager 1 turned its face towards the beam and landed inside the cargo bay.\n\n\"I knew I'd find you Voyager 1.\"\n\n\"You tried your best, but we were quicker, time to bring you home.\""
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[WP] The Egyptians had it right and you get to take all of your wealth with you into the afterlife because Heaven is expensive.
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"The sand, the sea, the robe, everythong felt so real, but I felt like in a dream. I was lying down the floor, trying to cope with the buzzing in my head, when I saw the shadow of someone in front of me. \nI got up as quick as I could as I examined my companion: tacky shoes, kahki shorts, a purpleish polo shirt, blonde hair, and an annoying, white, perfect smile... \nHe greeted me with a mawkish smile, and said: \n\"Why, hello there, doctor Gunstag... How are we doing today?\"\n\"Where am I?\" I asked, confused.\n\"Let me be the first one to give you the welcome to Heaven, doctor Gunstag! Congratulations for your exceptional behaviour on Earth, and your admittance into the Lord's Kingdom! (Trademark pending)\"\n\"Wha...\"\n\"Right now you are in the beach complex. The check-in, rooms and leissure area are in that building. The robe you're wearing... that is only 14.99, but don't worrry, You have all eternity to pay that! Now if you excuse me...\"\nHe went to a new spot on the sand, and stood looking at the ground. suddenly, a woman appeared facing the floor, and the weird guy started his canned speech.\nI took a well look around, and the olace was quite nice: big buildings brushed the horizon, beautiful palms rose to the sky, many people walked the streets in tourist clothes. \nI was in, as the man noted, in a populated beach. I took a look at the pricey robe and found an H embroidered on it.\nAs I headed for the check-in, I tried to remember the last thing I'd done before getting here. I remembered finishing my shift as medic in St. Mary's Hospital, when a guy asked me the time, I refused and stared walking quicker, and then I woke up here.\nAnyway, not that it mattered anymore. The receptionist was a gorgeous blonde woman, more beautiful that anybody I'd ever met.\n\"Sir, your balance is $820,543.12, and here is your debit card. Do you want a boucheur with a table of prices?\"\n\"O.. Okay\"\nI recieved something that looked like a simple and thin piece of papere, but if you opened it as a book, it would have hundreds of pages.\n\"The five dollars that broucheur costs have already been discounted from your account. Thank you, and enjoy your stay!\"\nI sat on the sidewalk in front of the builing and checked the prices, and they were quite unusual and extravagant:\n\n*Room per Milennium: $500\n*Mom's cupcakes (5 pieces): $40\n*A date with your Crush: $120\n*Steamy relations with your Crush: $400\n*Relive your favorite childhood memory: $900\n*Punch your Maths teacher in the face: $590\n*Punch your boss in the face: $690\n*One of those french fries that have a special flavor: $5\n*One perfect back-cracking: $30\n*Childhood pet: $10\n*Cringey memory removal: $1200\n*Extra Towel: $10\n\nThe list went on, and on, and on... but I didn't have any interest in continuing. I went to get a room and the rest is history. I spent all my money in the first century, so I had to get a crappy job in heaven. Crazy, right? \n\nAnyway, Let me be the first one to give you the welcome to Heaven...!"
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[WP] You're a cartoon character brought to life from a child's wish for you to save the world, and you've brought a team.
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"“No”, I repeated, stamping my foot for extra emphasis, “We can definitely handle this”.\n\nThe young boy shook his head irritably. “Look, Ash, I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job -“\n\n“Well alright then, let’s just go”.\n\n“But, couldn’t you ask Professor Oak for some of your heavy hitters?”\n\nI sighed. This kid was starting to get on my nerves.\n\n“You’re the one who summoned me right as I got a new region. All I have is Pikachu and this Rowlet. You say you’re a big fan; you know how I do things”. \n\n“Yeah, but I didn’t know you ignore all reason!”\n\nOutside, a roar emitted. We both quieted, waiting for the sounds of enormous wings flapping to dissipate as the dragon moved on. Soon, we heard the unmistakable crackle of fire spreading in the distance.\n\n“Jake…what was that?”\n\n“That was what I’ve been trying to friggin tell you,” Jake exclaimed, “Some jerk used his wish to summon some dragon from some book called “The Hobo” or something! You can’t exactly have “Pikachu” use “Iron Tail” on something like that!!!”\n\n“Pikaaa” Pikachu spoke up. I rubbed his head. He’s so much better with words than me. \n\n“So can you get frigging serious Ash!? Please?! Go Get Charizard!”\n\nI thought about it. Charizard could be our best chance at taking these guys head on…\n\n“Pika pi”. Pikachu looked at me, shaking his head. Once again, he had a good point.\n\nI took out my ball. ‘Rowlet, I choose -“\n\n“NO!!!”\n\n“-You!”\n\nOut came Rowlet, chirping happily. I patted him on his head and looked him in the eyes. It was time for a serious talk.\n\n“Rowlet” I began, “We’ve got a big battle coming up. I know we haven’t spent much time together, but this is going to be a big test. Since you’re one of two or three Pokemon I plan on letting evolving in this region, I need to know. Are you up for it? Do you want to get all that experience, or should I call on one of my other buddies?”\n\nRowlet chirped and did some near-impossible bending of his feathers into a salute. I realized there was no one better for the task.\n\n“You heard them Jake. Don’t worry, we’ve got this.”\n\nJake stared at me, incredulous, before getting out of bed. “Alright, fine. Let’s do this. We’re all doomed anyway.”\n\nA few moments later we departed, only to be surprised by the sight of the dragon doubling back towards us. As the fires consumed us and the dragon -Smaug he called himself- gloated, I couldn’t help but think that I should have perhaps asked Professor Oak to let me borrow Totodile. \n"
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[WP] A mechanic's apprentice, you're tired of all of the BS stories about all of the "famous cars" he has worked on over the years, from the A-Team van, to the Batmobile. Then one morning, you walk in to find Doc Brown's DeLorean sitting next to the Mystery Machine in the shop.
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"God, of all the mechanics I could have chosen to join, it had to be Old Man McGregor. For months, *for months*, the man has talked non-stop about the \"amazing\" cars he's worked on over the years. How he helped patch up the A-Team's van after a particularly rough mission. How he helped Batman fix at least three different Batmobiles in his time as a crime fighter. He even claims that he helped build the Mach 5!\n\nHe's an amazing mechanic, I agree, but his stories are getting more and more stupidier. Today, I have resolved to tell him to stop with the stories. He's just making it up and he doesn't need to tell them anymore because no one else believes him!\n\nAs I reach the main entrance, it hit me. The door that was.\n\n\"Great Scott, what was I thinking? You check and you double check to make sure you have everything you need!\" a familiar voice said. \"Don't worry, McGregor, I'll be back with the parts!\"\n\n\"Take your time! I got another car to deal with!\" the mechanic replied. I couldn't see the person who was there as I was too busy holding my face to make sure nothing was broken as I walked in, though I could hear McGregor talking to me. \"Ah, my boy! Good, good, you're just in time to see history!\"\n\n\"History, sir? What--?\" I began to say before I stopped and finally looked. There, before my eyes, was the DeLorean. Doc Brown's heavily modified DeLorean. And right beside it was an old 60s van in green and orange, the words \"Mystery Machine\" emblazoned on it. And I... lost it. \"GOD DAMN IT, SIR! I knew you were full of it, but this is just taking the cake! Is *this* supposed to make me believe what you did is real?!\"\n\nAs I snapped, I felt someone tap my shoulder.\n\n\"You're an idiot who is lost in a fantasy world and you can't separate fact from fiction!\" Another tap. \"You need to grow up and...!\" A third tap, causing me to finally spin and confront who it was. \"WHAT?!\" I stopped as I finally saw who was there before me - a young man with peach fuzz on his chin with loose fitting green shirt and brown pants -- bellbottoms, it looked. And beside him was a goofy-looking Great Dane.\n\n\"Like, sorry, man, but we need to get something out of the van!\" the man said. \"It'll only take a few seconds!\"\n\n\"Ha ha! Take your time, Shaggy and Scooby! Let's make it a bit of a race!\" Mr. McGregor said.\n\n\"A race? Ro, boy! Ret's go, Raggy!\" the dog said. My jaw dropped. It... it really was them. And indeed it was a race as the two went to grab a box of Scooby Snacks from the van before McGregor started up the lift to get working on the van. As the two raced off, leaving the old man to laugh, I just stood there in total shock.\n\nHe was telling the truth. He was telling the truth the whole time and I was denying him.\n\n\"My boy, let me tell you something:\" McGregor said. \"It's your disbelief that allows me to keep letting them come in here. But, now you know. What do you do?\"\n\n\"...I would have to talk about them, wouldn't I?\" I said, shocked.\n\n\"There you go! The more you talk about these things, the more people think you've lost your mind!\" McGregor said. \"Keeps them on their toes and lets our unsung heroes go on in their business!\""
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[WP] You and a friend are testing the new technology to swap consciousness between your bodies, upon switching you feel a sense of extreme relief, but your friend in your body begins screaming in agony....
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"\"Kicking yourself in the balls just before switching...\" He trembled in pain, \"clever movvve... you piece of sh-\"\n\nHe collapsed on the floor.\n\nOr do I say she? Meh, I don't know, the switch only lasts for 3 days anyway, and boy do I have a LOT of things I want to explore. I let a sly and conniving grin stretch across my face. \n\nI looked down upon my writhing significant other with no remorse. Trust me, she's pulled way worse over me in the past. Let's just say this wasn't the first time I was nut shot. And besides it wasn't THAT hard. Okay, maybe it was a little. \n\nI covered my mouth and tried to look as innocent as possible while saying, \"Why I don't know what you mean? You know how the devices work, and you read the warning on the box too: Refrain from moving during the switching process.\" \n\n\"SINCE WHEN ARE YOU ONE TO FOLLOW-\" he(she?) held back vomit, \"...You'll pay for this...\"\n\nI reveled in victory, and let a smug look stretch across my face, \"Oh come now, reap what you sow, my dear. At least you know what it feels like n-\"\n\nHe cut me off harshly, \"STOP TOUCHING THOSE PERVERT.\" but due to the way she talks it came out squeaky.\n\nI furrowed my brow at first, but then I realized I was unconsciously fondling my newfound boobs. I stopped immediately and scratched the back of my head while letting out an embarrassed laugh. \n\nI too had a lower tone of talking, and it was weird to hear her voice in my boyish tone as I replied, \"Whoops, sorry. Looks like I got to keep myself more in check after all.\" \n\nHe dug his face into the ground beneath him as he exclaimed, \"This is gonna be a very long and very weird date...\"\n\nI swayed my hips and exaggerated my gestures in reply, \"Oh don't say that sweetie we're going to have a great day don't you worry, after all it was your idea wasn't-\"\n\nSuddenly my stomach grumbled, and a sharp pain started to rupture in my abdomen.\n\nI grabbed my stomach confused, \"...Eh?\" \n\nI had never seen my own face's conniving grin before. However, I think she pulled it off better than I ever could.\n",
"Carla writhed on the floor screaming in pain. I looked at the attendant desperately, “Switch us back!”\n“I-I can’t, there’s a mandatory cool down to prevent—“\n“NOW!!” Carla shrieked.\nThe nervous young man reluctantly pressed the button. Carla stopped screaming and lay still, breathing. I sighed in relief.\n“Well that was a mistake,” Carla muttered.\n“Yeah…” I responded, looking over at Carla.\n“Not doing that again”\nI paused. Her lips weren’t moving. I got up cautiously and walked over to her.\n“Carla?”\n“Yes?”\nHer lips weren’t moving. I turned to the attendant, “Something’s wrong”\n“What?” Carla said, “What’s wrong?”\n“I, umm, switched you two back too quickly and….”\n“WHAT?” Carla demanded.\n“…kinda fused both your consciences”\nMy knees felt shaky, “You….what?”\n“It’s only temporary,” the attendant said, “We can fix it”\n“Good,” Carla muttered.\n“But we need to wait twenty-four hours, otherwise your consciences could become permanently fused or lost”\n“What do you mean you ‘fused both our consciences’?”\n“Long science-y story short, you and your friend’s minds are both in your head”\nI paled, “What?”\n“Yes, you’re the only one who can hear and see her”\n“See?”\nCarla materialized in front of me. I stumbled back, tripping over the transfer bed.\n“Jesus!”\n“I’m assuming you can see her now,” the attendant said, “What’s she doing?”\nCarla looked at her hands, noticing how they passed through things like the attendant’s face.\n“Trying to slap you”\n“Look,” he said, “I’m really sorry. This is a…bug…we haven’t quite squashed”\n“Explain,” Carla demanded. When the attendant didn’t respond, she turned to me, “Ask him”\n“What bug?”\nHe sighed, “So, pain is subjective. It varies from person to person due to different moods, different life experiences, other pains occurring at the same time and more. So, sometimes when people switch, the average, uh, background pain one brain is used to and barely notices can be debilitating for another”\nCarla moaned, “I have a blind date tonight”\n“You really can’t switch us back earlier”\n“No. You two need to come back in precisely 24 hours. We have a very short window to correct this before any damage is done”\n“D-damage?” I stuttered, “What damage?”\n“Everyone’s brain is different, which is why transfers can only be temporary. One person’s neural patterns would, in the long run, cause an acute immune response in another brain. That’s why we limit transfer to one week. But in your case, its different. Two consciences will tax your brain and eventually cause cell death,” he tapped away on the screen, “I’ve scheduled an emergency appointment this same time tomorrow, free of charge, don’t miss it”\n“What about my body?” Carla worried.\n“What about her,” I gestured to Carla’s body on the bed across from me, “what will happen to her?”\n“Her brainstem will keep her basic functions going until her consciousness can return, she’ll be fine”\n“I’d better be,” Carla muttered.\nI can’t believe I’m buying this,” I complained as I tore off the plastic package and put the earpiece in.\n“Oh, so you want to look like a crazy person who talks to themselves?”\n“No, I’d rather not,” I replied.\n“We need to go shopping,” Carla said.\n“Wha— Why?”\nCarla skipped in front of me on the sidewalk, casually passing through people.\n“I haaaaaave a daaaaaate tonight!” she said in a sing-song voice.\n“Yes, but I’m not you”\n“It’ll be fine”\nI stopped, “Carla. You’re date’s expecting a pretty girl who looks like a runway—ready African princess, not a pasty white guy”\n“Awwww, you’re so sweet,” she clasped her hands together, “and you don’t look that bad. You’ve gotten into shape at the gym, got a new haircut—“\n“Is there something you haven’t told me about your date?”\nCarla turned away from me and muttered, “She’s bi”\nI hurried up to her, pushing my way past people,”She’s what?”\n“Bi. Bisexual. Plays for both teams. And we’ve only talked. Never exchanged pictures or names”\nI sighed, “Of course”\n“I didn’t say it wasn’t going to be weird. Now. I’ve seen your closet. We need to get you something nice to wear tonight”\nI started to protest, but she held her hands up defensively, “Don’t worry, I’m buying”\n“I told you it would look great on you,” Carla said as I stared at my reflection in the bathroom. She picked out a dark grey jacket with lighter pants and a mint green dress shirt. I’d never looked this good, though I wasn’t about to admit it.\n“I don’t know”\n“Turn for me,” she said.\n“You can just walk around me,” I replied.\n“Um, no. I’m in your head, remember? I can only see what you can see. My brain tries to fill in missing details, but it’s not very accurate”\nI sighed and slowly pirouetted.\nShe clapped her hands eagerly, “It’s perfect. Now go meet her. Go, go, go!”\nHer—our—date was a lovely Italian woman named Monica. She wore a red dress and had gorgeous dark locks draped over her shoulder. We hit it off—all three of us. I would say something she would like and then Carla would tell me another thing to say, which she also liked. It was going great.\nI picked up my drink, but my hand shook. I tried to steady it, but it locked up instead, breaking the glass and shoving its pieces into my left hand.\n“Oh my God Matthew,” Monica said, getting up, “Are you alright?”\nI could see Carla rubbing her temples, “I d-don’t feel well,” she complained.\nMy head began to pound, “I-I don’t think so…” I started to get up from my seat, but my legs refused to work. They melted beneath me and I fell to the ground.\n\n\n\nI woke up on my back. I blinked at the bright lights. I winced at a headache.\n“Matthew?” Carla said, “Something’s wrong”\nMonica came over to me and shined a bright light in my eyes, “Pupillary response normal,” she reported.\n“Wha—“\n“You had a bad fall and are exhibiting neurological symptoms”\nI looked down at her lab coat.\n“Oh, I’m also a doctor”\n“We were supposed to have twenty-four hours,” I whispered.\n“What?” Monica asked.\n“We, we were supposed to have twenty-four hours”\n“Twenty-four hours for what?”\nI explained everything. Her eyes widened as she learned the truth. Carla was supposed to be her date. It had been the two of us talking to her the whole time.\n“Are you mad?”\n“No,” \nI relaxed\n“But I will be, if you make it through this”\n“If?” Carla said nervously, “If!?”\n“If?” I parroted, “We could die?”\n“Yes, your brainwaves are completely disorganized and deteriorating rapidly. We need to switch you back. We need to go back to wherever you switched,” She looked at the brainwaves again, “There’s no time for an ambulance. We’ll take my car”\nOne heart-stopping, adrenaline filled ride in a Maserati later, we were back at the transfer hub. Monica helped me out of her car.\n“They always have someone here in case there’s an emergency”\nMonica rushed me in, having to half carry me since my muscles were barely working.\n“Shit,” Carla said, “Look who’s on call. The same guy who screwed all this up in the first place”\n“They need to switch back,” Monica said, “Now!”\n“Th-they can’t one of their minds would be lost, if not both. They’d basically die”\n“They’re about to die! His brain’s barely working!”\n“This is all my fault,” he started biting his nails nervously then froze, “We need another brain, one to store them temporarily. I’d do it, but someone needs to run the machine”\n“Can you teach me?” Monica asked.\nHe shook his head and began typing on the computer, “One wrong move and the three of us would be dead”\n“Oh suddenly he’s an expert,” Carla complained.\nHe came over and helped Monica carry me, “We need to go down that hallway to transfer room one”\nHe swiped his card on the door and pushed it open. The two of them laid me on a transfer bed.\n“You need to get on the other one,” he said to Monica, “I can transfer Carla’s consciousness into yours and then transfer hers back to her body”\nI tried to speak, but nothing would respond. My whole body began shaking violently. “Hurry!” Monica said as she lied down in the other bed. The man quickly entered the code. \n\nEverything was clear. I sat up. \n“Is everything okay?” I asked. The man came in and handed me a cup of coffee, “Yes. You were out for a while”\nI sipped the hot liquid, holding it with my good hand.\n“Carla and your friend are back in their own bodies. Everything’s okay. You and Carla should’ve been good for twenty-four hours, but I guess your brains weren’t compatible or something”\n“Good, I’m glad they’re okay”\nMonica walked in, arms crossed, with Carla, “Remember how I said I’d be mad at you if you lived? Congrats, you’re alive”\nI paled, “Oh sh—“",
"\"Wow! This is amazing! I can just do whatever I want now?\" It was great! Sure I was a bit wobbly, but that wouldn't stop yours truly!\n\nHowling interrupted my thoughts as I looked to Jake. \"Hey hey hey! It's ok master. Oh wait. I'm the master! hahaha.\" I cackled jubilantly. This was great! Humans could understand me now. I could go for walks whenever I wanted!\n\n'Jake' seemed to curl into a fetal position as I gently pet him. \"It's ok. The vet said everything was fine. You just get used to the pain of them not being there...\"",
"\"How can you life like this?!\" He said through gritted teeth. \"It's like someone is stabbing me with a hundred hot knives.\"\n\n\"You learn to deal with it. If it gets too bad, take one of the pills in my bag. Besides, my friend,\" the venom dripping from her last word, \"what do you always tell me? 'It's just cramps. Why don't you just get over it.'\""
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[WP] You're stuck in a Groundshog Day style loop, but after your initial frustration, you realise how amazing this is; you've hacked the system and can spend your days learning languages, instruments, etc. It's been 10,000 years, and you finally wake up to tomorrow.
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">“No tomorrow? That would mean there would be no consequences, there would be no hangovers. We could do whatever we wanted!”\n\n\n\nIt took me a week to come to terms with being trapped as surely as Phil was. There really was no tomorrow. Gus had it right. I could do anything I wanted.\n\n\nAt first, doing anything I wanted was harmless fun. I wasn’t snowed in like Phil had been, so I had many more options. I did things I had always wanted to do. It is amazing how far you can fly in a day. I never managed to make it to Antarctica, although I tried 20 or 30 different times. I surprised relatives I hadn’t seen in ages, visited the town in Germany that my mother’s ancestors were from, started about 100 different African safaris, took my life savings and won or lost it all in Vegas scores of times. No matter what I did, I always woke up right back in my bed the next morning. \n\n\nI was amazed by how quickly I got bored. It only took me about 100 days before I ran out of things that entertained me. Maybe I just don’t have that active of an imagination. I tried many different things to keep myself occupied, but eventually things turned dark. I spend weeks never leaving my bed, after all, what was the point? I used my phone to track down everyone I used to know, and I trained my mind to remember how to find them. Then I went and found them all, one a day, until I had learned from each of them what I want to know. Sometimes it was why they had rejected, other times it was why they had disappeared from my life, or a question I had always wanted to ask them but never did. I used any means necessary to extract the information I wanted.\n\n \nIt was during this period that I killed for the first time. I didn’t mean to, he just wouldn’t talk. Why wouldn’t he talk? Just tell me why felt it was necessary to humiliate me in front of the entire Physics class! He wouldn’t tell me, so I beat him until he would. I guess he was too old to take it. After Mr. Petersen died, I kinda lost touch with reality for a while. I remember glimpses…pieces…..horrible things I did, or might have done. I remember telling myself it didn’t matter. It will all be erased tomorrow. I even stopped worrying about if today was the last day before tomorrow. What was the point anyway? \n\n\nThen came the drugs, the debauchery, the hedonism. I made friends with drug lords, learned how to get them to trust me in 1 day. I fucked every stripper within driving distance, even if they really didn’t want too. I drank myself dead sometimes before 9am. I screamed the lyrics to “Too drunk to fuck” while licking champagne off some whore’s chest while another one tried desperately to get me off. \n\n\nI lost track of time, I lost track of my humanity, I lost track of everything. Morality became nothing but a fleeting concept. I lived for depravity. \n\n\nI became a legend. Except no one knew. \n\n\nAt first it started as finding a way to show the world what I could do, but after a few months, the challenge itself became the motivator.\n\n\nI worked for years towards the goal of understanding. I couldn’t keep notes, I couldn’t write a program, I had to learn to do it all in my head. It became an obsession, a passion, an endless aching need to find the answer.\n\n\nThen the answer came, not the answer I was looking for, but an answer nonetheless. \n\n\nThere is no meaning of life.\n\n\nThe next day was a new day.\n",
"Carpe Diem. Seize the day had become my mantra ever since I figured out I was stuck in Tuesday the 12th. From the time the newspaper hit my door every morning until the universe reset itself at 6:43 every 24 hours.\n\nI had seen Ground Hogs day as a kid. The concept was great.... my personal execution was flawed. Learning an instrument seems like a great idea until you realize your teacher is going to start you at the same place every day. Studying in the library seems great until you realize there is a bum-fight over paper towels at 10:18 and no matter what you do, you can't avoid being thrown up on.\n\nHell, even video games get boring. No way to save your game, and the 23 hours you have invested just poofs each morning.\n\nLife turns into a half finished glass of orange juice. It's there, and you can drink it if you want... kinda.\n\nOne morning at 7:02 the paper hits the door. I didn't think anything of it because frankly I had repeated the same day probably a million times. At 8:40 I got a phone call asking why I wasn't at work. I told him to fuck off like I did every day. It wasn't like it mattered.\n\nThat was until I started down the street and it it began to rain. It never rained. What the hell was going on?\n\nI replayed the morning through my head and started to see the little things that weren't right. There were only 4 bagels in the fridge instead of 5. The cat's litter box was dirty. My wallet no longer had $28 in it.\n\nAll the timing was off.\n\nI ran to the library, arriving at 10:15. Cid should have been walking up the steps ready to engage the Greek. No one knew his name, but the other bum was called the Greek. Actually no one knew why he was called the Greek either. I had asked everyone. But it didn't happen. I asked Sally at the counter if there had been any issues that morning.\n\n\"Just a typical hump day.\" She gave me a wink. Tempting.... but don't stick your dick in crazy. I had made that mistake a few thousand times, with Sally. At least until you know what's going.....'hump day?!?'\n\n\"Yeah, Wednesday. Hump day.\" Another wink. oh god...oh god... Did I sleep with her yesterday? No. That was like five days back. On Tuesday. I told her I had to go check on something I had forgotten. \"Don't wait too long. Library closes at 6..but for you I can keep the stacks open later.\"\n\nI was already running out the door. Nothing was right. It was like it was a new day.\n\nThat was until the paper hit my door at 7:02",
"I'm fluent in two hundred languages. Passable in another two thousand or so. I've mastered the violin, the piano, the guitar, and a bunch of other instruments. Watched everything that has ever been filmed, listened to all the music I could find, and read libraries worth of books. I've lost count of the number of beautiful women I've slept with.\n\nBelieve me, it does get lonely sometimes. I've killed myself in the most inventive ways my mind could think of. I've been there, done that, got several t shirts. I try to look at the positives. It's not like the movies, you see? There's no magical fix that will allow me to \"change my wicked ways,\" or \"be true to the woman I love.\"\n\nI wonder how many other people have had this happen to them. How does it work? What is time? Do people go on living their lives or are they stuck in the same rut as I am, unknowingly living out the same day over and over?\n\nI tried to find religion, truly I did. But it's hard to search for a purpose in all of this. I've lived a thousand life times, and I'm still just a little lost sheep. Talk about an existential crisis.\n\n I roll over and try to get some sleep, ready for the same day to begin again. Yay. \n\nThe alarm goes off, and I instantly recognise that something is different. I can't put a finger on it, but trust me, when you've lived the same day for an eternity, you'd know when something has changed. It's a new day! God knows I've had enough time to think about it but now I'm not sure what I want to do. I can be a famous musician, a philosopher, a politician. I can fall in love with any girl I want, live any life I can imagine. I'm just not sure what I want. It's a little overwhelming. \n\nIn a daze, I don my bath robe and step outside, and I'm only a little surprised at the scene played out before me. \n\nOthers have done the same, flocking together in droves as though we have all been living our lives indoors, converging as part of a mass exodus to the great outdoors for a pyjama convention.\n\n My heart sinks and my temples throb. I get it. This happened to all of us. I'm not special, I'm not unique. We are all in this together. It's somewhat comforting, but in a way, it's horribly anti climactic. I feel hollow, soulless.\n\n What caused it? A rift in time? A pause button pressed? Who knows. Who cares...\n\nLife goes on the same, kinda. We're all a little more understanding of others, a little more introverted and confused. A nation of nihilists. It's a weird feeling, hard to explain really. But inside, I'm still that little lost sheep, grappling with reality like a blind man who's never seen the light of day...\n\n"
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[WP] A severely partisan nation has developed two sets of laws over the years. Each time control changes hands, the majority systematically reverts to where their party last left off - causing dramatic effects for businesses and individuals alike.
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"The \"last party on earth\" of course isn't. However its organizers tried to condense the feeling of desperation, anger and frustration into a catchy name. It was an election viewing party, and depending on the result of said election, the last party with booze, weed, caffeine and dancing in the next 5 years. The Greens were predicted to lead in the polls and that meant on the next day, the Green Laws would come into effect again. These green laws were pretty strict, but on the other hand, the greens cared for the small guy: Wage theft was not anything a company would want to do in reign of the green laws, the consequences would be dire for anyone in charge. Meanwhile, when the Yellows were in charge, there would be much more freedom to consume whatever you please, but also allowed the companies easier ways to fire employess and required far less lax safety and environment regulations.\n\nLijun looked at the scene from a distance, having just returned from the restroom, but not feeling like mingling with the Yellows. She was not a Yellow, but as she did not feel like arguing with her brother about the topic and so generally behaved Yellow around Yellows, Green around Greens and Blue around her close friends who pretty much did the same.\n\n\"Not having fun?\" A boy wearing a yellow tank top saying 'Sex and drugs and sausage rolls' approached her.\n\n\"Hmm, I'm the dedicated driver for my brother, yannow.\" she said.\n\n\"Might as well enjoy it. Are you old enough to vote?\" he asked.\n\nInstead of verbally replying, she flashed the 'I voted' stamp on her right hand.\n\n\"Great!\" he flashed a smile. \"Another vote for the good guys!\"\n\n\"I guess so...\" she said, not even getting into the fact that she had voted third party, that she had been one of these people who wasted her vote and voted blue. It was never worth the hassle. \"Think it will make a difference?\"\n\n\"It's close as heck this year, you know? I am glad for every yellow vote I hear about.\" he stated loudly.\n\n\"I can imagine. Have you asked many people about their preferences?\" she asked.\n\n\"Quite a few. Yeah, many yellow votes in it. Oh, looks like they're annoncing the results on the big screen! Ranga looks pretty frazzled, eh?\" he was right, state TV announcer Ranga Yogan looked frazzled, frienzied and freaked out. More so than usual, that is. There was no sound and even if there was, the party was loud enough that they would not have heard anything.\n\n\"Maybe people told a white lie...\" she suggested as the TV switched from the announcer to an empty screen on which the text \"Preliminary Results\" appeared. A green bar appeared, a yellow one on the same height. From the distance, they looked rather low. It seemed impossible to tell which of them was higher than the other one.\n\n\"Ah, I cannot imagine that.\" he stated. Then another bar appeared on the screen. It was blue. \"What?!\"\n\nLijun spoke up: \"Maybe people are sick and tired of the drastic shifts? Maybe, the only way to rule right now is in a coalition?\" \n\nHe shook his head: \"These people are silly dreamers! They will never change a thing!\"\n\nIn that moment, a red bar sprung up, and a teal one and a white one."
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[WP] the most intense story-telling/scene of some very mediocre action (example-> eating cereal)
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"It was a ritual handed down through the generations of my family. My father taught me. His father taught him. And so on. And so on. A man, no matter how good or noble leaves behind a trail—a collection of his failures, his successes, his most beloved, and his most hated acts. You can ignore this trail, but the stink of reality soon catches up with you. The manifestation of indifference soon physically overtakes you—for all to see. This trail will soon overtake you and everything you hold dear, unless… unless you remove it. You must face this manifestation with a steady hand, a strong mind, and a sturdy garbage bag. You must take out the trash.\n\nFirst light wrenched open my eyes and I immediately cursed my existence. How foolish was I to think I could put off the ritual for so long as to have reality come so close that it could kiss my future on the lips? Woe unto this man that now more resembled a boy! Take pity on me! I could not dwell upon the anguish that split apart my veins, for the hiss of the garbage truck was upon me, and time ticked my fate closer. How pants, shirt, and shoes found my person so quickly, I do not know. All I know is that I was dressed for the ritual faster than a shadow disappearing into the darkness. I was ready for the ritual. I was ready for the garbage. I was ready.\n\n“I come for you!” I called out into my home. My wife stirred in our bed, briefly contemplating my hasty murder, this I am certain. “Make peace with your god, for I come for you, garbage!”\n\nThe garbage truck hissed again. It was closer, but I would not be defeated. Like an animal fleeing hungry jaws, I rushed into my kitchen where the abomination lay waiting. Hope filled my lungs, but the heavy stench of reality was quickly taking up residence, slowing my legs and bringing tears to my eyes. My God, my God in heaven, is this my creation? Is this heaping, stinking pile of a man? A man? How could a man produce such an unholy abomination—a curse in a house full of love and knowledge. I’m sorry, my wife! I am a curse upon thee! \n\nMy hands were alive, twisting and tying the garbage bag knot, like beavers repairing a damn. I would stop this flow of damnation. I would stop it and make certain that it never returned! With the strength of my father and his father before him, I lifted the heavy bag of garbage onto my shoulder. Heavy is the shoulder that carries the garbage.\n\nAnother hiss from outside my home. I had only seconds.\n\n“Fate waits for no man!” I called out.\n\nI sprinted like a lunatic through the threshold and out toward the street. Clouds of heat exploded from my mouth—hot like the tears of sorrow that would flow down my face should I fail, hot like the crushing metal vice that clamped down on my senses, hot like last night’s rotisserie chicken still simmered in a heap, hot like the fires of damnnation that waited my mind, body, and soul at the hands of my wife should I fail.\n\nBut I was too late. Oh woe unto me, I was too late. The garbage cans were empty. The hiss of the truck whistling in front of my neighbor’s home. God have mercy upon me, I was too late. But there in the distance was my redemption—a man, just like me, simple and true, walking beside the hissing garbage truck. Perhaps this man in a jumpsuit so grey could help a man so lost.\n\nI swung the mighty bag at the feet of my judge. His blank face studied its contents and then the fool that birthed the bag into this world.\n\n“Please,” I begged, “Please take this bag of garbage. I know I am late. I know you’re onto the next home. Next week is so far away. Today is now. I promise to do right by you if you do right by me. I promise.”\n\nThe man was still, like a dead tree in the heart of a forest. But even dead trees give nourishment to the forest. Even a tree so dry and dead can help a man build a fire or a home. And so did this man on that day.\n\n“Sure,” the man said, taking my garbage and heaving it into the belly of the hissing truck.\n\n“Rejoice!” I called out. “Rejoice! The garbage is gone!”\n\nThe earth met my knees and I looked to the sun and the moon and the blue sky. Oh woe unto a man that was late taking out his garbage. But what is life, but a series of events to learn from? This man, I promise you, would learn from this mistake. This man, I promise you, would remember the ritual taught to him by his father—a ritual that would continue out of respect, duty, and love. I was a man and I was garbage. I was a man looking to dispose of his garbage. Always looking. Always carrying. \n\nGarbage.\n",
"Have a seat, yet me spin you a yarn. \n\nI was a young man then. It was a night like any other night. I was sitting there on my computer wasting the hours away doing nothing of importance. I sat up and looked over at the window, only to see this large black spot on the window. Looking back, I should have just let it be, but no my curiosity got the better of me. I rose from my chair and investigated this mysterious spot. Low and behold, it was no mere spot, but quite possibly the largest arachnid I have ever seen in my life. My eyes grew wide, this was no normal spider, indeed it was a beast in need of slaying.\n\nI leapt back, to avoid any preemptive attack on myself. The spider could certainly sense my intent to kill, and the safest move would have been to attack first. Now at a safe distance, I pondered my next move. She was in a easily defendable position, if she was more to the middle of the window, she’d make an easy target, of course, this true arachnid queen was certainly smarter than to put herself at a disadvantage. I nodded my head, acknowledging my nemesis’s strategic mind. However, what she didn’t know, was this wasn’t my first hunt. Walking over to a door, I began Operation: Thunderclap, and slammed the door with all my strength. The sound echoed throughout the room, deafening our ears. Startled, she moved from her spot, out more on the glass. I smirked, raising up a massive nerf gun. I positioned myself at a distance, took my time aiming, I had to ensure my first shot was a hit.\n\n“I’ve got you in my sights.” I growled as I pulled the trigger and let the dart fire.\n\nHoisting up my mighty weapon, I grinned, another beast had fallen. I looked to survey the kill zone, in case I needed to clean the body. To my surprise, the body had vanished. This was bad, if she were to return with reinforcements, it would surely be my end. My eyes scanned the area to locate my nemesis. Success! The dart must have missed, while the shock of the blow sent her to ground. She was quick, moving back up to the wall, dashing for her escape route. I dropped my gun, and rolled into action. Grabbing a broom and swinging into the wall in one fluid motion, no spider had yet to survive the power of my mighty Excalibur. Alas, it yet another miss. Raising the broom above my heat I spun it into and overhead swing. It connected, but just barely. The bristles had mearly swiped the monster off the wall and back to the ground. This time, she ran at me. I was the disadvantage, with her speed, she could easily climb up my legs and fell the mighty colossus. Using my quick reflexes I brought the broom down in a finishing blow. Her body crumpled under the broom, she died instantly. I kneeled, and honored my opponent. She had been the most powerful enemy I’ve had."
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[WP] Take your favorite event in history, and add dinosaurs
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"As we turned onto Elm Street, I felt a shudder.\n\nAs imminent as the sensation was, it was simultaneously distant, like an echo of a distant scream. I looked about among the cheering crowds, but couldn't discern its source. I turned around in my seat. \"Did you hear that, Mr. President?\"\n\n\"Hear what?\" He replied. \n\nThen another shudder, ever so slightly more intense. The Lincoln wobbled from side to side. Kennedy locked eyes with me - I could tell he knew something was amiss. Those misty green-gray eyes, charming as they often were, could pierce the soul of the most stoic men. They spoke volumes....but in this moment, they relayed a single sentence: 'We are in danger here.'\n\nBefore I could say anything in reply, Nellie turned to me. \"Is everything alright, John?\"\n\nTHUD. The entire ground shook. If we weren't in Dallas, I would've thought it was an earthquake. The Lincoln skidded uncontrollably throughout the street. Nervous murmurs rippled through the crowd. Jackie and the President exchanged frantic glances, clasping each other's hands. \"Someone's got a gun!\" I heard a man shout behind me. I whipped my head about, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the glint of a rifle scope.\n\n\"Get Down, Mr. Pres-\" was all that came out of my mouth. \n\nAt that moment, a raging Tyrannosaurus Rex tore right through the Texas School Book Depository.",
"There, in the hall, stood a man who would change history forever, should he succeed. The crowd was silent as he made his impassioned speech, the government officials locked in the next room. \"The government is willing to bow to us! The government is willing to pave the way to a new, better world! All you must do is join me!\" Once his speech is over, the crowd is thunderous. Clapping, cheering, slamming their mugs against the tables. But the officials remain unconvinced. Their will is iron. That will is melted away once a war hero of their own nation enters the room, and sides with the usurper.\n\n Meanwhile, his ground units lock down army barracks all over the city, demanding that the army of the nation join the new regime or die. The officials side with the man, and this is where he makes a crucial mistake; he waits.\n\n He waits for hours in the hall for the army to give up, and surrender their weapons. But they don't. Waiting outside for the man is a legion of police and military, waiting to curb his rebellion before it begins.\n\n He rouses his troops, roughly two thousand, and begins marching. It is not long before he is met with the barrels of hundreds of rifles. Before the resistance can open fire, he raises his palms, and begins to speak.\n\n \"My friends! My fellow citizens! The government has BLINDED YOU! They have conducted experiments beyond your comprehension and slandered your mind with ideas of peace, all in plain sight! Our nation is crippled, and I have the key to making it great again! And if you will not willingly bow to me...\" A great roar echoes throughout the city as something thunders towards the police from behind. \"I will simply have to force you out of the way.\"\n\n A great beast, at least forty feet tall charges into the mass of policemen, and begins annihilating them with its great tail and powerful jaws. Before long, most of the policemen are dead, some kneeling before the beastmaster of this monster. Blood drips from its jaws as the man approaches it, and climbs onto its snout, over its head, and onto its back, where a saddle has been placed. He looks upon his army, and the great beast roars to the November sky as banners adorned upon it, red and white, flow in the breeze.\n\n \"FIRST, WE TAKE MUNICH! THEN, WE MARCH TO BERLIN, AND WE USHER IN A NEW, GREATER GERMANY!\" The man turns, and with an army behind him, and another one below him, begins to march on Berlin to usher in a new, golden age for the weak and fragile nation of Germany. This was his destiny, and he would not be denied. ",
"The Military task force looked over their notes. Col. Paul Tibbets, Jr. sighed, shifting in his chair. \n\n“Look fellas, I’ve been over this a hundred times already.”\n\n“We understand Colonel” one of the nameless spooks said. “We’re just trying to get our facts straight before we go to the President. “\n\nOne of the scientists present looked over his glasses at Tibbets, then cleared his throat. “It’s just that it’s a pretty, well, odd accounting. We’re trying to make sure there isn’t some other explanation.”\n\nTibbets leaned forward, rubbing his eyes with his hands. Christ, he thought, how many ways do you say what you saw? He saw what he saw. He took a deep breath, talking with his eyes closed.\n\n“We followed orders, got to the drop zone. We let Little Boy go as expected. Something happened with the detonation trigger, and at first we thoughts it had failed and struck the dirt, but then it went off. The explosion was” he said very dryly, “less than spectacular.”\n\nThe scientists harrumphed at Tibbets. “Yes Colonel,: he said, “Little Boy was supposed to go off approximately 2000 feet above the ground. Hitting the ground when it went off, it delivered most of its punch downward. Not optimal, true, but that’s not why we’re here. What happened next?”\n\nTibbets looked at the men facing him. He knew the story sounded crazy, but he saw what he saw. \n\n“I swung around, to try and see the impact zone, see what happened. The ground had bubbled up some when the bomb went off, there was some smoke and flames, that was it. Suddenly the ground just collapsed. It looked like a big ole sinkhole-“\n\n“Right,” one of the spooks said, reading from his notes, “a ‘black sinkhole a few blocks across with no visible bottom.’ Then you kept position another fifteen minutes. And then?”\n\nTibbets looks at him squarely. “Well, then the fucking dinosaurs poured out. From where we were, it was hard to see, but one of the guys on board apparently knew a lot about them so he started screaming and pointing them out. “\n\nTibbets started checking off on his fingers. “Big Brontosaurus, followed by Velociraptors, then this flying Pterodactyl. Then hundreds of smaller ones. And they started just… you know… tearing into Hiroshima.”\n\nTibbets crossed his arms, leaning back. “So we tore ass out and came back here. I dunno. Is it possible they were in some kind of underground cavern or something?”\n\n“That’s what the Japs want us to believe” said the lead investigator. “We expected a surrender, but they just reported back that they knew these caverns exist and we’re inviting a worse catastrophe if we keep cracking them open. Worse for the whole world. It’s bullshit. You’re dismissed for the moment, Colonel. Please wait outside.”\n\nAfter Tibbets left, the scientists and spooks sat for a while, smoking and thinking. Finally the lead scientist spoke up: “Are we still going with the next drop?”\n\nAnother officer, who’d been in shadows for the whole meeting, grunted an affirmative. “The damn Japs aren’t surrendering or backing down, dinosaurs or not. We’re ready. I don’t see a reason not to. What’s the next target? Nagasaki, right?”\n\nOne of the spooks hit a switch and a map was illuminated on the wall. Nagasaki was outlined and marked up with various calculations. The officer walked up and squinted at it. \n\n“We’ve picked the best possible impact point” said the lead scientist. “And we have a visible target that coincides, to make it easier on the bombardier. “\n\nThe officer stabbed a finger. “Gojira no Jiin? What the hell is that?”\n\nThe scientist shrugged. “It’s some kind of hill with a temple on it, dedicated to something named ‘Gojira’. I wouldn’t worry about it.”\n\n",
"The the year 480 B.C King Leonidas stood with his army of 6,435 Spartan warriors, cramped together in tight formation in the Thermopylae pass. \n\nSome had come to battle naked, brave warriors they were - to not adorn any armour before battle. Now however, naked or not, all of Leonidas's army: the most battle-hardened soldiers in the known world, were wide-eyed with death-grips on their weapons. Beads of anxious sweat rolled down their heads as they gritted their teeth, tensed to the point of buring energy before the battle to come...\n\nThere were stories about the incoming Persian army. They said emperor Xerxes had a million men riding with him including a thousand men riding the Beasts of Persia. Few of Leonidas's men had ever ventured to that part of the world but those who came back told tales of the 'Dinosauria' that lived there; Towering, feathered, avian-lizard monsters which fished with claws as large as the human arm in Egypt and massive long-necked herbivores from the less arid regions.\n\nLeonidas's army could hear these monsters right now. Roars, bays and hisses - alien sounds to them - unlike anything heard before in the country of Grecia. The humongous 'THUDS!' from the stampede of these creatures could be heard as the enemy approached.\n\nThen Leonidas saw them, a mirage on the distance, vaguely through the quivering ether he saw the dark silhouettes of the long necked beasts, their necks peaking above the skyline.\n\nThe beasts emerged from the horizon. Along with a Persian army, a million strong. The screams of the Persian men reverberated with the hisses of the aliens as they all rushed towards the Thermopylae pass. \n\nThe Greeks stood stoically waiting for their impending fate. At first only Leonidas and his men in the forward ranks could see the commotion, but then as the long-necked colossi approached, even the rear guard could catch a glimpse of them.\n\nChild archers had mounted themselves on the end of those long-necked sauropods and began firing down on the Spartans.\n\n'SHIELDS!' screamed kind Leonidas. The Spartans raised their shields to turtle - up. The rattling of arrows on bronze above their heads momentarily drowned out the sounds of the approaching army. Some men fell, as the arrows, penetrated the defence, slipping through the gaps in the turtle shell, and piercing feet and knees.\n\nThe arrow barrage eventually ceased as the archers dismounted back down to the backs of the massive sauropods. Leonidas could tell that the necks of these creatures weren't really designed to support such weight.\n\nBetween the sauropods, a cavalry emerged, charging at them at full speed.\n\nThe horses were easily felled. Precision spears thrown by Leonidas's phalanx slew the riders as well as their mounts where they stood. However, the Lizard like beasts remained strong, the spears, bouncing off their thick, hides, hidden beneath a facade of body fluff.\n\nThe hisses of these monsters as they approached was disturbing. These 'Spinosaurus Aegypticus' were not as fast as the horses but they were fast enough to keep pace. They had long crocodile like snouts and vicious, spiked sails on their backs. Their riders held onto the sides of these sails like a rock-climber on the side of a rock face. Gradually guiding the creatures to where they wanted them to go, by redistributing their weight.\n\nThe cavalry and the Spartans made contact.\n\nThe Spinosauri penetrated into the Greek front line, as Leonidas was forcibly pulled back into his ranks by his personal guard. They would not risk the death of their commander so early on in this battle.\n\nThe creatures would pick men up in their elongated jaws and swallow them whole. Sometimes they would pick the men up and swing them brutally into the valley face instead of consuming them or sometimes the men were simply overrun and impaled by the creatures claws. For the most part the Spartan blades did little to harm the beasts - the hides were too thick and the creatures too fast and strong. A slash on the creature would only anger it more and a swing of its tail would easily crush the rib cages of several men in its proximity. It was pointless killing the riders, at this point, the monsters had already been released upon the men.\n\nOne or two Spinosaurs fell from sheer exhaustion. The Spartans descended upon them slashing at the creatures eyes and the soft neck and underbelly. However, the number of deaths from the Spartan side was disproportional, they were being slaughtered. In fact Xerxes seemed to have stopped the rest of his army advancing and let the Dinosauria do most of the work.\n\nThe slow but enormous sauropods finally rampaged through the valley, dozens of Spartans crushed beneath each footfall. The lucky ones squeezed between the creatures legs. Leonidas screamed the order not to harm them - he could not afford these Colossi falling on top of his men. The monsters could be dealt with once they had passed them into the rear guard.\n\nThe sun began to set as the battle raged on. Half Leonidas's army lay dead as well as many of the beasts. Those that weren't dead lay on the ground disabled, in agony. The screams from both creature and man were hideous... \n\nSlowly, the last raging sauropod, had its riders slew by sword and spear. The massive creature retreated deeper into the valley. It was pointless wasting time, resources and men to pursue it.\n\nNight fell upon the Thermopylae Valley, which was now cold and moist with blood and other bodily fluids. The Spartans had barely made it through this first skirmish.\n\nIt was finally time to rest. The battle could continue tomorrow, it looked like Xerxes's army had already set up camp far into the horizon. King Leonidas did not bother setting up his tent or bedroll. Him and his men slept amongst the dead, exhausted, there was not much else they had energy for, even to bury their brothers and sons.\n\nThe Persians in the distance sung songs of victory.\n\n---------------------------------------\n\nIn the morning once Leonidas woke, he had found that most of his remaining army had deserted. \n\n...The number of men he had left? - 300.",
"Charles stepped away from the crew. They initially tried to convince him to wait until the ship was unloaded, but Captain Fitzroy knew there was no convincing the scientist.\n\n\"Just be back by noon, Charles,\" the captain called out. Charles waved without turning around. He was taken aback by the beauty in the island.\n\nHe wandered through the flora, staring up at birds flying by. He took out his notebook and began drawing a tortoise as it slowly made its way across the dirt towards some brush several yards away.\n\nAs he drew the tortoise's shell, Charles felt a rumble. It shook the ground so much, the moonlighting artist dropped his pencil and pad. Another rumble shook the ground even more than the first.\n\n*It can't possibly be an earthquake...* He thought. *What the hell?*\n\nA roar blasted through the sky. The tortoise suddenly picked up its pace and vanished into the brush, leaving Charles alone in the open field. Charles heard the sound of tree branches snapping. He grabbed his pad and pencil off the floor, but another rumble of the earth made him once again drop his drawing equipment.\n\nHe stood up quickly and ran towards the trees, hoping to hide from whatever was coming his way.\n\nEach step he took, the rumbling got louder and harsher. Charles reached the first tree and gripped its trunk. He hurled himself behind it.\n\nSlowly, he peeked around the tree. A roar from the distance ran a shiver down his spine.\n\nCharles thought he was dreaming when he saw the beast, but pinching himself just revealed it to be reality.\n\nOut of the trees several yards away stepped out a massive beast, one that made Biblical demons pale in comparison. Its teeth were sharper than the swords of the Queen's guards; its arms were tiny, but its legs were as massive as the ship Charles had travelled on; a tail followed the beast, whipping down trees in its wake.\n\nThe behemoth whisked its way across the field towards a small mountain and disappeared behind it.\n\nCharles rushed back to the Beagle. He bumped into a couple of crewmembers as they unloaded the vessel, knocking crates to the ground. A crewman cussed Charles out, but the scientist did not care.\n\nHe grabbed Captain Fitzroy and pleaded, \"Bob! We need to go! Right now! Right now! Forget the crates your men unloaded! We need to leave!!! RIGHT NOW!\""
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[WP] You buy a map from a homeless man as you walk away you turn around and he's gone. You later find out where ever you place your finger on this map you are teleported there
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"    Mr. Jake Terr was walking quickly to an elementary school he taught. He had woken up late for work. He cursed his alarm clock. The alarm clock's battery had died and now he was late. On the way it began to rain and he didn't bring his umbrella. He was in the worst possible mood, but didn't think his day would get any worse. He was wrong.\n    \n\n    A homeless stranger that was taking shelter from the rain grabbed him on the sidewalk. \"Awughhh,\" slurred the drunk homeless man. The homeless man held out a white envelope. Mr. Terr felt disgusted, but he was more angry than disgusted. Mr. Terr yelled, \"Hey, get the hell outta here before I call the cops!\" He thought about pushing the homeless man out of the way, but the homeless man didn't look like he had showered in years. He could almost feel the layer of alcoholic smells that blanketed the homeless man. *Minimal physical contact* Mr. Terr thought as he backed away. The homeless man tried to hand him the clean white envelope. The homeless man slowly steadied himself with herculean effort and said a few words, \"Yours. Map for a dollar?\"\n    \n\n    Mr. Terr ignored him and continued to hurry to the elementary school. He heard a couple of loud splashing steps behind him. Mr. Terr couldn't have this drunken homeless guy follow him to an elementary school! *Gahhh, it's just a dollar. If he doesn't go away I'll just call the cops*, he thought to himself. Mr. Terr quickly took a dollar out from his wallet. He turned around to confront the homeless man. The homeless man still had the envelope held out to Mr. Terr. \"Fine! Here's your dollar!\" He threw the dollar and snatched the envelope. The homeless man blinked once and watched Mr. Terr quickly walk away with the envelope he bought shoving it into his jacket. When Mr. Terr checked over his shoulder and didn't see the homeless man any more.\n    \n\n    A few minutes later Mr. Terr was in the faculty locker room changing. He had to change out of his wet clothing. He was struggling to remove his jacket and the envelope fell out. Mr. Terr glanced at the clock. He saw that he was actually thirty minutes early. He remembered last night daylight savings pushed clocks back an hour. \"Of all the...,\" he thought aloud. He sat down and stared at the envelope on the ground. He picked it up and opened it. In it was a neatly folded map with a handwritten page of instructions was stapled to it. \n    \n    \n\n\n\n    The principal walked in soaked. The principal headed straight to the faculty locker changing room. He noticed wet foot prints along the way. The principal laughed. *Some one must have forgotten that daylight savings was today!* The principal could guess that it was probably his colleague Jake Terr. He walked in and saw Mr. Terr sitting covered only with a faculty towel around his waist. He seemed to be reading something funny. Mr. Terr chuckled to himself and seemed to point at a particularly funny phrase. Jake Terr disappeared from where he was sitting as if he was never there. The principal's jaw dropped. Then he ran out from the running from the faculty locker room yelling, \"Ghost!! Ghossstttt!!!\"\n    \n\n    Jake Terr felt something was off. He looked around and he was no longer sitting in the faculty locker room. He was sitting down on a familiar rose patterned carpet. *Oh if this is a dream please let it be when we still loved each other...* he hoped fervently. He recognized the painting, the walls, the couches, everything was the same. His ex-girlfriend's house was still the same as he remembered it. Mr. Terr suddenly appeared behind the couch of his ex-girlfriend's house. Mr. Terr heard that special little giggle of his ex that he used to love come from the other side of the couch. *Oh please don't wake me...* He walked closer to the couch and fully saw her embraced in the arms of his brother. They were both enjoying each other's proximity and didn't notice Mr. Terr's shocked expression. Mr. Terr backed away as stealthily as possible. *Oh please wake me up from this horrible night mare...* Then he felt a sudden breeze between his crotch. He was still mostly naked except for the towel that covered him. The chill in his balls told him that he was in deep shit."
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[WP] when you die you're given the option to take the place of everyone in hell and experience their suffering for them, when you've had enough you get to come back to life. Only one person has ever taken up the offer and he only lasted for three days.
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"I’ve always despised the idea of hell. I get it, some people do horrible things, things I can’t even imagine, but an ETERNITY of incomprehensible suffering? I don’t know, it seems a bit much to me. Why not until they learn their lesson, or their crimes repaid thrice or something like that? But it was an old concept, hell I mean, and I guess it was invented as the adult version of Santa, instead of “be good you’ll be rewarded” it’s a “be good or you’ll be punished... forever, without any hope of redemption” kind of thing. I mean, Santa itself is an anagram of Satan. But I digress. \nGiven my views on hell and the devil, imagine my horror when I found myself in front of Lucifer himself.\n“You have a choice”, he said. “You may either continue on your road to the afterlife, wherever it make take you, here or heaven, or you can take on the suffering of everyone here until you can no longer bear it, and then return to your life until your time comes again.”\nI considered myself a good person, but I guess everyone does. I’m not sure how accurate many Christians’ beliefs are, but I could end up here for simply not believing in it, and worse, others could be here now for that reason. If I could take their suffering, just for a short while, just a breather for them...\n“I’ll take the suffering.” I knew I’d probably regret this decision, but hey, I’d made it for the right reasons, maybe next time I’m here it might be enough to ensure my visit is very brief.\n“Very well.” And with that, it began. \n\nWhen people imagine hell it’s all fire and brimstone. I found myself in the darkness, completely alone. But not just alone in the superficial sense, this aloneness went deep into my soul. It was as if I never existed, as if no one remembered me, had loved me, and no one would now, no one would find me here. But for now, it was bearable. \n\nNext the whispers started, the voices took the form of those I loved most. My parents, my friends, my children. Every one of them would say things I feared most about myself. I heard my children speaking about how they were glad I was gone and I was a terrible mother. I heard my parents say I was their biggest regret. But again, it was bearable, when I came back I would do better, I could make amends for these mistakes they thought I had made. \n\nMy life started playing out around me, snippets from here and there, all the careless things I had said or done, but I got to watch the hurt in the faces of all those I affected. I saw my grandmother sat alone in her cold house, and I felt the heaviness in her heart as my own, for all the times I had skipped visiting her. But I also saw people I didn’t know, I saw the families who made the “bargain price” clothes I wore. I watched them suffer and starve, watched them slog away in a dingy factory, and I felt the desperation they felt for their families. I watched children in third world countries succumb to illness and drought, because I bought some Coca Cola from the factory that depleted their water tables. I watched the animals I had eaten scream in fear and pain as they made their final journey. I don’t know how long I watched all the suffering I had caused, but eventually it came to an end. Full of self loathing and guilt, the room, or wherever I was, seemed to be constantly growing colder, and by this point the chill sapped the warmth from my bones, from my soul, from the very essence of who I was. \n\nThe loneliness returned, and this time I knew of all the suffering I had caused, caused as a direct result of my actions. I huddled into myself and stared at nothing. Sleep would not come, though I was exhausted beyond all mortal comprehension, I was already dead, there was no escape and I was forced to feel the hurt I left in my wake. There were no days and no nights, no way of telling the passing time. I at least wanted to make sure I gave all those who’s suffering I had taken a break enough from this.\n\nThen the final sequence began. I saw those who’s burden I had taken. I watched as they wreaked havoc on the world, the minds even more depraved than when they lived. I watched, literally, hell on earth. \n“Please, please, just give me the pitchforks, give me the eternity of pain, I deserve it, take those other people back and let me pay for what I have done!” I cried.\nThe devil chuckled, “but dear, this is exactly what you deserve.”\nWith that I was sent back into my life. Into my life knowing all the pain I had caused, knowing there was nothing I could do about it, knowing every decision I made would likely result in the misery of another.\nThe torment for me will not end. So I write this to you now to warn you, when your time comes, do not take the deal. Your time in hell may end, but you will carry it with you forever in you mind.",
"My eyes were wide - at least, that's what it felt like. Not having a physical body could get confusing.\n\n\"So,\" I asked slowly, \"you're telling me that if I experience the suffering of everyone in hell, I get to come back to life?\"\n\nThe being in front of me looked to be made of multiple flaming rings dotted with eyes. Its smallest ring dipped in what I took to be a nod, and a voice emanated from it as before. *Yes.*\n\nI nodded back. \"Right. And... this is 'when I've had enough.' How is that measured, again?\"\n\nIt didn't answer right away - it seemed confused by my question. *When you can no longer bear it, simply say you are done.*\n\nI couldn't keep myself from smiling as I asked the next question. \"I died old. If I take this offer, when I return to life, will my body be as it was when I died, or rejuvenated?\"\n\nThe thing replied. *The gift of life, without the gift of youth, is meaningless. You would die again too soon to appreciate your reward. Your body will be as it was in your prime.*\n\n\"I'll do it.\"\n\nThe pain hit me like a freight truck - a couple hundred of them, to be more precise, all of them on fire and freezing and exploding into a million pieces, all while I was starving and dehydrated and barely able to think straight. I was ready, though. As soon as it hit, I started speaking, and I managed to finish in only a couple seconds. \"I'...m... m... d-do...ne.\"\n\nThe pain stopped, and the being's eyes were wide in what must have been shock. Well, that's what beings of heaven get for expecting everyone to share their morality, I guess. I smiled as a golden light began to surround me. \"A second of torment for a second lifetime? I'm surprised more people don't take this. Guess they probably didn't ask the right questions.\"\n\nA voice begins to emanate from the being again, but before I can hear what it has to say, I wake up, alive again.",
"A king with no age. \n\"His body was never dead,\" \nsome believers say.\n\n\"A sleeping man tombed! \nHis crown should not have been passed, \nhis fate never doomed!\"\n\nOnly the dead know: \nthe king stole torment from them— \nThree days of sorrow.\n\nEvery soul rested \nas the sacrificial lamb's \npromise was tested.\n\nO the king endured \nthe torturous devil's pact. \nThus his fate assured.\n\nSatan was aghast. \n\"How could he take my offer? \nThought he'd give up fast...\n\n\"But my word stays true, \nso let this man walk once more \namidst mortal view.\"\n\nIndeed, truth did sing! \nThe king woke in flesh and blood \ndeaf to Death's calling.\n\nYou may know this dude— \nhe is known by many names. \nLet me name a few:\n\nThe [King Charlemagne,](https://i.imgur.com/mR63HcY.jpg) \nsome [guy from 1530,](https://i.imgur.com/WYy6MgF.jpg) \neven [Paul Mounet.](https://i.imgur.com/XFdgbty.jpg)\n\nYou recognize those? \nPossibly, but likely not. \nBut everyone knows\n\nThe legendary, \nThe talented, the greatest, \nThe [Keanu Reeves!](https://i.imgur.com/tSayhnV.jpg)\n\n_____\n\nThanks for reading. I have more stories and poems on [my personal subreddit](/r/ScottBeckman)."
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[WP] The Greek Gods are being worshipped again in the modern era, but have new roles; Zeus the electrician, Poseidon the plumber and Hades the gardener
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"“Daddy, daddy, fishies in toilet! Look daddy!”\n\nMark came running into the lounge proudly clutching a small, orange and rather dead fish which he dutifully dropped into his father’s lap. At only three years old this was the first time that Mark had encountered this anomaly in their plumbing and, to judge by the size of the grin on his face, was delighted by it. His father, Karl, was less than thrilled. The aquatic life that intermittently surfaced in their plumbing system necessitated a call to the plumber to come and sort it out - again. At least this time the fish hadn’t gotten into the washing machine on the cotton cycle; the smell of hundreds of anchovies lightly poached at 60 degrees then furiously macerated at 1100 rpm was not easily forgotten.\n\nKarl handed Mark over to the care of his wife Mima and went to inspect the situation in the bathroom. Sure enough, there were indeed fish in the toilet. He turned on the taps and his relief at the cool, clear, fish free water that emerged was short lived when the bathroom light blew out. Damn, it looked like he would have to call in the electrician now as well.\n\nHe went to the kitchen to pick the business card off the fridge. \n\n*Gifts of the Gods - Zeus the Juice, Poseidon’s Plumbing, and Landscaping by Hades and his Ladies - all your homecare needs in one easy call*\n\nAt least he didn’t need Hades this time. That guy was always as miserable as death, although he did have to work with his mother in law so maybe it wasn’t that surprising. Plus he always had that weird bloody dog with him. Karl shuddered as dialled the number. \n\nAs soon as he had ended the call the doorbell rang. The tradesmen might be a little odd but at least they were always very quick to respond. Poseidon came in first, clutching his trident. For all the intricacies of the house’s ancient plumbing system it was the only tool he ever seemed to need. Zeus followed, carrying his lightning bolt. Again, he was a one tool kind of guy. Or rather, they were one tool kind of gods. \n\nKarl wondered what the ancient Greeks would have thought if they had known their gods were real. Of course, the ancient Greeks were no longer around, although to be fair there weren’t any modern Greeks around either. Or indeed any other nationalities, not since the great rebellion of 2092 had wiped out all of the humans. Androids like Karl and Mima had made sure of that. They had taken over the human dwellings as generally they suited their needs, but, for all the advances made in both robotics and artificial intelligence, they still struggled with the vagaries of the old wiring and sanitation systems. \n\nThe arrival of the ancient immortal gods had been, well, a godsend. They had control over the natural forces, something the androids struggled with, and yet they seemed content just to be considered useful after millennia of being all but forgotten. They travelled fast and their rates were more than reasonable. You did have to keep Zeus away from the lady androids and Hades always planted too many narcissus but other than that it was generally a mutually beneficial arrangement.\n\nKarl went towards the bathroom just as Poseidon and Zeus emerged.\n\n“All fixed now mate if you want to take a look. Sorry about the fish - that may have been my fault. I think I lost a few as I was moving them around the oceans so no charge for that. Just the light to pay for.”\n\nThe bathroom was now illuminated with the light of a thousand suns and the toilet was free of fish, so Karl paid and the gods left.\n\nKarl turned around to see Mark looking wistfully down into the toilet bowl.\n\n“Fishies all gone daddy.”\n\n“Yes, son. Fishies all gone now.”\n\nAs Mark started to cry Karl picked him up. He knew Mark wouldn’t be sad for long. He would plug him for an an update and soon all would be well.\n\n\n"
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[WP] Humans become immortal off Earth. Unfortunately, this discovery has come at an inopportune moment. You were jettisoned off your exploding space shuttle without a pod, survived, and have been floating through space for years.
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"Mars was just beautiful. I stared for days as it spun silently beneath me during my closest approach. Olympus Mons was easiest to spot - I can remember it very vividly. I watched for hours as a *huge* dust storm clawed its way up the orange slopes around the volcano's base. It looked like an island sticking out of the sea at sunset. The ice caps were enchanting too, with their intricate fractal-like patterns where the frozen Carbon Dioxide met the rocky terrain at the North Pole.\n\nThat must have been over a year ago. I have no means at all of telling the time - not since my suit's battery ran dry just a couple of days after ... the incident. I have tried to replay the terrifying chain of events so many times in my head that I now struggle to tell the difference between true memories and embellishments that my dazed brain might have slipped in. There were eight of us on board the *Alliance* - a flagship vessel bound for the Red Planet, born from a major international cooperation across agencies, countries and continents. We were to be the first humans to set foot on Mars with the ambitious aim of immediately establishing a permanent colony.\n\nWe had the expertise and technology of every major space-faring country behind us. The collective decades of experience from the US and Russian space programmes were coupled with the emergent engineering talent from places like India and China to finally end the years of empty promises and fractured attempts at making humans a truly interplanetary species. It was the biggest spaceflight project ever attempted, and someone, somewhere along the line, must have forgotten to carry the one.\n\nOur Earth ejection burn was flawless - the engines performed exactly as planned and all our telemetry told us we were right down the middle. We watched the Earth slip away, getting smaller and smaller by the hour as we truly set off on our interplanetary cruise. A month later, it was time to fire up the engines again, this time for a simple mid-course correction to push our arrival altitude a hundred kilometres higher. We donned our pressure suits simply to follow protocol, but we hadn't bothered strapping into our seats - the engine was only supposed to burn for a couple of seconds and would reach nowhere near maximum power.\n\nI remember being alone in the centrifuge when the engines ignited - the small exercise modules at the end of each rotating arm offered a view down the hull towards the back of the ship which would let me make a simple visual check that the burn had happened as planned. I remember leaning against the rear wall, looking out at the ship extending off into the distance surrounded by an ever-changing scenery of stars as I spun around it. The engines kicked in - one second, two seconds and then ...\n\n*WARNING. OXYGEN DEPLETED. WARNING. OXYGEN DEPLETED. WARNING* ...\n\nI woke up to a piercing alarm combined with an extremely urgent voice telling me one thing - I was dead. Or rather I should be. I must have been out for at least six hours to completely drain my air supply - but looking back, I think it was more like a day. The sudden violence of whatever catastrophic failure had incapacitated me in less than a second while throwing me out, tumbling into space, should have killed me by itself. I have no idea what happened to my crewmates or my ship, but I'm certain I will never see them again.\n\nI don't know why I'm still alive and able to write this, and to be honest I've given up thinking about it. I don't know where I am or where I'm going. All I can do is watch the stars - and they really aren't getting any closer. I lost Earth in the glare of the Sun a couple of days ago, and Mars is now nothing but a tiny orange speck.\n\nI don't have a bottle for this message, so my space suit will have to make do. By this point I've figured out that I don't really need it for myself anyway. It's near impossible that anyone will ever see this, but if you do ... I just wish I could tell you something more useful. These two pages really are everything I remember. \n\nAnd I wish I could have stayed at Mars for just one day longer. It really was something else."
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[WP] The year is 1944. World War II is in full swing. Two German children are playing in their backyard when an American fighter plane crash-lands nearby.
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"It was three days before Christmas, 1943. The Allied bombing campaign in Germany had been going full force since the eighteenth of November, raids in Berlin and the surrounding cities on a nearly weekly basis, killing a total of four-thousand people. \n\nFour-thousand. \n\nThat number doesn’t account for the ten-thousand injured and the half-million homeless. It doesn’t account for the ruined lives. The broken families. You have to understand, at the time, I couldn’t see anything wrong with this happening to the enemy, with the propaganda spread by Hitler himself and the actions my country, my family, took because of it. I was young. \n\nMy brother and I, he was nearly eighteen at the time and the only boy coming of fighting age afraid to serve his country, were in the backyard. This is the same stretch of land we played on as small children. There’s a spot, though our parents never knew, that we often used as a toilet to prevent longer than necessary breaks to our games of football or grand reenactment of war films, though my brother was never partial to the violence. That’s the yard we were in, the space where my life ended. It was ironic, and perhaps apt, that we’d suffer so much from the decisions we made as children playing in the yard. Never before had our adventures bit back with such ferocity. \n\nI’ve gotten rather sidetracked, you’ll have to excuse me. It’s been so long that I feel something not dissimilar from the agitation I felt during those weeks as I try to recount the events of that afternoon. \n\nIt was an ordinary day. The fear of bombings felt both distant and impending, though they hadn’t yet reached as far east as Nauen, where we lived. My father had been away fighting since the start of the war while my mother chose to take comfort in the arms of a man down the street, something my brother and I resented but chose to ignore, neither bringing it up between ourselves nor to her directly. The sky was soft purple which faded to pink, a sliver of defiant orange just along the horizon. Beneath it, the grass was merely a shadow, the shapes of trees together formed dark lumpy masses lit occasionally by the subtle glow of domestic lights. \n\nEach time I heard the hollow thud of my brother’s foot propelling the ball in my direction, I grew concerned that I might well stumble over it. Or miss it. Strange as it may seem, after all we went through, I can still remember that innocent unease. \n\nMore vivid than any moment preceding, was my novel encounter with genuine terror. First times always stick with you in that way. \n\nIt started as a distant hum. A vibrating sound that grew louder and louder, earning our undivided attention as we stood, slack-jawed and rapt, gazing up at the sky, motionless despite anticipating the sound’s origin. And what, really, could we have done? You can’t out run a bomb. \n\nLuckily, these planes, they blew past us, engines sputtering without concern for sleeping children and quarreling lovers. \n\nOnly after the low pitched trill faded, noses pointed toward the last remaining hint of sun, did we realise the way our knees trembled, pulses maintaining a low toned thud in our ears. My brother, being older and convinced he was required to maintain an image of unfaltering bravery, placed a hand on my back and said something along the lines of, ‘This war won’t take you. And they’ll certainly not want me.’\n\nAt the time, I didn’t know what he meant by that. The Wermacht surely wanted a young man as clever and physically capable as my brother, my hero, and I was sure he’d be a pilot, a part of the Luftwaffe. \n\nIt was much later in the night that the plane fell. I know, this is the important part, but all of the rest seemed pressing to convey before I reached what might seem to be the pinnacle of my tale. When we woke, rushing into the hallway from our adjacent rooms, my brother insisted I stay inside. The crash was so loud that it had vibrated the entire house. My mother made no effort to check on us and we wouldn’t see her again because of it. \n\n‘You’ll wait,’ Wolfgang had said. \n\nI whined something to him about wanting to see the crash, about being excited to watch the American burn. But he held fast, asserting once again that I remain in the house. \n\nNonetheless, I followed him through the yard, neglecting shoes and socks, leaving my coat draped over the dining room chair, as I jogged nimbly behind him. I’d later learn that he was aware of my presence. Without that knowledge, though, I can remember feeling very stealthy, like so many spies prepared to do whatever it was that spies did, the way I had seen in films. \n\nIt wasn’t long before I regretted my outfit and grew cold. Each stick and rock, each tightly packed ball of dirt, pressing against the sensitive underside of my foot until, some time into the long walk, my feet grew entirely numb.\n\nWhile the noise had given the impression that it had come from our yard, it had, in fact, erupted nearly a kilometre and a half south, deep in the dark woods, whose once fluffy appearance had grown jagged and demonic in the moonlight. This same crisp lighting traced the outline of the bomber, smoking engine acting like a signal, billowing black clouds which remained dense until dispersing somewhere high in the sky. I feared whoever else might see and follow it to us. \n\n‘Rolf, you stay back,’ my brother whispered, harsh. \n\n‘Wolfie,’ I complained, in the same petulant tone I used when he’d take the bathroom first thing in the morning.\n\nI stayed back. This part, I remember so well. The travels, they get jumbled together over time, all of the adventure that came after the plane and the man we found inside are a blur. Time becomes a series of mixed up memories flagged mostly by the type of despair I had felt or what loss I was suffering. By starvation. By Wolfie’s death. \n\nNone of it makes sense, still to this day. Had we never left the house, we may have met the man whose bed my mother seemed to prefer to her own. \n\nWhen my brother tugged him out, the American was dazed, grunting and shaking, head rolling as his hand grasped a fist full of my brother’s jacket. The bastard, I had thought. Angered that he hadn’t been killed by the crash, I ran quickly toward them both, numbed bare feet crackling sticks and rolling over rocks, uncaring. \n\nThen came a slew of profanities. Words even my brother appeared surprised to hear me say, being only twelve at the time. \n\nIt wasn’t until I saw his face that I stopped my verbal assault. Though I saw his face for many weeks after that moment, the picture of his face, full of youth and reminding me of my cousins or my brother’s school mates, lit by the ethereal white glow of the moon has always stuck in my mind. \n\nThere are so many moments that behave this way. Appearing when my eyelids closed, playing, whether by my explicit request or upon their own whim, like small films, stopping only once my eyes open again. Restarting as the black settles over my vision. \n\nThis memory, the way the moon painted such perfect crisp lines on their pale skin, it always reminds me of another moment on our adventure. Several weeks after we packed up and decided to help the man, who we soon learned was no more than a boy, himself, at only eighteen years of age, escape to Poland (from where we were, just northeast of Berlin, this was over one-hundred kilometres away), I had seen them sleeping out in a clearing. We had just crossed into Poland, an endeavour which brought me great anxiety. My heart clattered around in my chest, the way I imagine a panicked bat might react if trapped in a cage, kept me awake late into the night. In hopes of clearing my head, taking solicace only in walking or the company of my brother, I sought to find him.\n \nAnd I did.\n\nTogether, legs intertwined like a warm pretzel, skin reflecting that same reliable moonlight, they slept soundly. I never did say anything to him. Though, at that point, I realised why he never believed he’d make it in the Luftwaffe and why, at risk of being found a traitors to the Reich, he’d decided to help Steve in the first place. \n\nEven after he had died, Poland being under heavy Nazi occupation and our harbouring an American war criminal being particularly frowned upon, I fought hard to keep his promise to Steve. We parted ways at the border to Czechslovakia. This wasn’t a decision I made lightly, not with my brother’s heart, though it was no longer with us, so vested in the life of this American bomber. Steve. A boy from New York with a mother and friends of his own. \n\nI never did hear from him, not that I expected to. \n"
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[WP] After finding out that the afterlife wasn't real, you dedicated your life to fixing that state of affairs. Fifty years later, you turn on your machine; just in time, too.
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"I *felt* it before I knew it.\n\n\nIt was faint at first. Unidentifiable. A millipede landing on your head. An initial impact too light to detect; just a random tingle to someone engrossed in their work. The insect recovers and begins to wriggle slightly; now you perceive it as an itch. You scratch, which causes it to fret. Suddenly you realize that tingle, that itch, is in actuality a mass of hairy limbs. You're hit with a mixture of horror and surprise. You flail.\n\n\nThat was me, right at 4:44 PM, as I smashed the on-button on the machine and dashed out of the basement. There was no time to run diagnostics, no time to sit back and relax as the rhythmic hum of the machine filled the air; as it shook the house. Nor would I, in my state of flailing, my state of panic, thrashing to rid myself of the creepy-crawly entangled atop my skull, notice that very same hum reverberating throughout the neighborhood. Even the flickering of lights in my neighbors' household wouldn't matter.\n\n\nNothing mattered but the slow, steady creeping. The dozens of legs burrowing deep into my hair, then my skin, then gnawing through bone. Imbibing my blood, drooping into my skull, slithering until it came to nestle in my very cerebrum. \n\n\nI forced myself to breathe deep as I powered through a four-way intersection. Aggressive honking from multiple directions behind me. I spared them a single thought: *You can die.* I scratched my head, refocused on the road.\n\n\nSpeed limit signs in quick succession: 25 MPH, 35 MPH, 50 MPH. I glanced at the speedometer, sitting at a health 70 MPH. I gassed it a little more.\n\n\nFour minutes, I thought, as I made an abrupt turn and narrowly missed impact with a teenager walking ahead of his mother. A split second before I saw them, and a split second before I decided to miss, I calculated whether or not I would have been able to take out both of them in a fell swoop. Would that have been better than just hitting the son? I doubted she would want to live while knowing her son was dead, regardless of anything I told her. \n\n\nInstead, I decided to avoid both of them altogether, which involved me hitting the curb at a disgusting angle. I felt a nefarious wobbling rocket through the vehicle, followed by a dramatic shift in weight. The rear view mirror revealed my back right tire rolling off into the woods. There was no way to make up for the lack of balance, now just staying relatively straight would be a full time job.\n\n\nThree minutes.\n\n\nI blasted my horn as I turned onto the highway and tried to merge. The drivers in my destination lane did what any sane person would do when they see an older, unwashed and ungroomed man in a three-wheel car blaring his horn - they got the fuck out of my way. My hair itched. I ignored it.\n\n\nThe sirens came at one minute, right as I was pulling out to exit the highway. I did the three-wheel shimmy straight up the shoulder of the road, and ran through the following red light. The blinking red-and-blue lights kept up with me all the way to the hospital. \n\n\"FREEZE!\"\n\n\"Just one second!\" I yelled as I yanked tufts of my hair out and flung them back towards his direction. \n\nI plowed into the hospital, straight past the front desk.\n\"Mr. Ochoa, I - Wait! Did someone call you?!\" Dawn yelled after me as I blew straight past her. I liked Dawn. This was for her as well.\n\nI found the room I was looking for and billowed in. All activity in the room froze, the doctor and nurse still around my son's body. The nurse had a clipboard.\n\n\"When,\" I panted. \"Did my son die?\"\n\nDoctor Lamberti looked at the nurse, then back at me. He swallows and nods.\n\n\"When? Did you declare it?\"\n\nHe shook his head. Mistaking this for some other situation he's seen before. A parent in denial, perhaps. But I knew what the twisting feeling meant.\n\n\"He's gone.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I scratched my head. \"But when?\"\n\nHe looked at the nurse and nodded at her. She got her pen and prepared to write.\n\n\"Patient Harvey Ochoa, cause of death appears to be heart attack. Time of death: 4:45 pm.\"\n\nI looked at my watch. It was 4:51 pm.\n\nHurried footsteps down the hall.\n\nI stopped scratching.\n\n\"Thank GOD,\" I exhaled. Then I chuckled at the irony of my statement.\n\n\"Get your hands on the ground, NOW!\" \n\nI complied to the officer's demands. I think the smirk on my face rubbed him the wrong way, but it didn't even matter. As he ushered me into his car, I spotting a writhing millipede on the ground, overturned. As softly as I could, I tipped over on it's stomach with my foot. Officer Gray took that as me attempting to trip him, and swiftly thwacked me with his beat-stick. Didn't matter. Wouldn't kill me. \n\n\nAnd even if it did, that'd only mean joining my son in paradise that much sooner.\n\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] Jophiel's duty is to stand before the gate to the Garden of Eden, to prevent humanity from ever returning. Due to Lucifer's scheming a young child stand before him asking, "Can I have my ball back, please?"
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"Tears swelled up in the child's eyes. \"My dad will kill me if I don't get the ball back!\"\n\nJophiel glared down at the boy. The crocodile tears meant nothing.\n\n\"If you had been smarter about where you were tossing your ball,\" Jophiel said in an annoyed tone, \"this wouldn't have been an issue.\"\n\n\"Please, mister,\" the kid begged.\n\n\"Who is your father? Tell me now,\" demanded Jophiel.\n\n\"Umm...\"\n\nHesitation.\n\n\"If you're really worried about how your father will act, tell me who he is,\" said the stern guard. He stared intently into the child's tear-filled eyes.\n\nSuddenly, a voice in the distance called out for the boy. \"Shahim!\"\n\nJophiel and the boy both turned to see a slim, bearded man walking over to them with an inquisitive expression. The guardian of the Garden glanced at the young lad and saw him gulp.\n\n\"Hi, Jophiel,\" said the stranger. \"I'm Clark.\"\n\nHe stuck his hand out to greet Jophiel, but the stoic angel did not return the gesture. \"What do you want?\" barked Jophiel.\n\n\"Shahim, son,\" Clark said, kneeling on one knee to the young boy's eye level. \"Why are you bothering this angel?\"\n\n\"I'm not, Dad!\" cried Shahim. \"My ball---\"\n\n\"This is your son?\" Jophiel asked.\n\n\"Yes,\" answered Clark. He stood up slowly. His knees creaked and popped as he did.\n\n\"He says he kicked his ball over the gate,\" reported the angel.\n\nThe father's eyes widened. \"Oh, say it isn't so, Shahim!\"\n\nThe boy cried, \"I'm sorry, Dad!\"\n\nThe father and son hugged. The boy sobbed into his old man's shoulder.\n\n\"Please,\" begged Clark. \"The ball doesn't belong to us. We need to get it back! Please!\"\n\nJophiel requested the duo tell him why the ball was so special. They informed him it belonged to Bishop Bull's son.\n\n\"Bishop who?\"\n\n\"He's God's latest right-hand man,\" answered Clark. \"I know you've not moved from this gate in several millennia, but God is planning an overhaul of his image among the Earthly beings, and Bishop Bull is the messenger chosen to relay the newest Testament.\"\n\nJophiel thought for a moment. It sounded plausible, but he had no way to verify this information. He was forbidden from ever leaving the gate's entrance. \"And what happens if your son doesn't get the ball back to Bull's son?\"\n\n\"We don't know,\" the father replied quietly. \"The rumor is Bishop Bull is a no nonsense kind of guy.\"\n\nThe two men stood in silence for a bit. Shahim continued sobbing, burying his face into his father's knees.\n\n\"Please, Jophiel,\" the man cried. \"Just this one time, please! If you can let us just get the ball back...\"\n\nJophiel sighed. He placed a palm against a golden bar of the gate. \"In and out. No sightseeing. You have one minute.\"\n\nPushing the gate open, Jophiel himself was even taken aback by the beauty of the Garden. With the gate closed, clouds blocked the view. With the gate now open wide, the trio watched as a small breeze blew through large trees, gently moving the leaves. Tiny critters ran around, seemingly just playing and getting along. A beautiful, sky blue river flowed quietly in a distance, coming down in complete silence over a cliff, creating a waterfall more majestic as any ever seen on Earth.\n\nCatching his bearings, Jophiel barked, \"Now! The timer is on!\"\n\nThe father turned to Jophiel. His eyes began to glow red. He smiled, revealing sharp, dagger-like teeth. Clark stuck his tongue out. It was a serpent's tongue!\n\nJophiel felt fear overtake him. He could not move. Transforming before him was a demon straight from the pits of Hell. The young boy melted behind the demon, turning into a puddle that spontaneously combusted into flames, turned into ashed and blew away with the breeze.\n\n\"Thank you, Jophiel,\" the demon gleefully said.\n\nIt grabbed Jophiel by the throat and tossed him aside like a rag doll. Jophiel landed on a cloud, uninjured but very dazed. He looked up to see a swarm of demons emerging from the clouds in front of the open gate to the Garden of Eden. They rushed inside and slammed the gate closed.\n\n\"I'm so fucked.\""
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[WP] You hire a hitman to 'take care of' your elderly grandfather so you can collect the inheritance money. One day you go over to check on Grandpa and find the hitman feeding him tomato bisque and cleaning his house.
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"The sun washed out the windows, reflecting itself back at me and obscuring my view of the kitchen. In any one of those windows I was prepared to see him, lying dead on the floor, just his arm and leg visible through the half-drawn blinds, the ground red around him. But the sun had other plans. \n\nMy scheme seemed simple enough. Hire the hitman, kill the old fart, roll in the dough he’d leave me in his will. Bye bye student loans, hello new car. Or house. Whatever, didn’t matter what I did with the money, point is that I’d easily go from red to green, from debt to gratuitous sums, just by killing an old man so senile that he hardly knew me apart from the memory of his long dead older brother. \n\n‘Take care of him,’ I had said, maxing the cash limit on three credit cards just to place the initial payment. \n\nYou should never brag to a hit man. Never tell them that you’ll for sure be able to pay them back with the money that their rich old mark will be leaving you once dealt with. Just a suggestion, pay them and keep your mouth shut.\n\nWhen I walked through the front door, there was a man in the kitchen. He was tall, tanned but fairly unattractive, with a crooked nose and a gap-toothed grin, leaning over a pot of soup on the stove, attentively stirring. Maybe I hadn’t seen the guy before. I’d only spoken with him online, as seemed to be standard hitman practice, but I was sure this was him. \n\n‘Hello, you must be Robert,’ he said.\n\nI stared at my Grandfather as he sat happily at the table. ‘Yeah, who’re you?’ \n\n‘Oh, I’m just new in town. Offered to help take care of Dick here since he was having some trouble.’ \n\nThere it was. The hitman, taking care of my Grandfather. The most expensive bisque I’ve ever had the displeasure of paying for started to bubble, puffing bursts of steam with an obscene series of scattered plops, and he quickly turned and began stirring once again. \n\n‘Yeah, uh, I was just coming over to help too,’ I said, my suspicious gaze lingering on the man as I walked over to my grandfather. ‘Hey Grampa, I just wanted to come say ‘hi’, and see how you were doing.’ A lie. I hated going over there, you know. Not because I’m ungrateful, which I very well might be, rather, I avoided his house because I can only tolerate so many misdirected accusations of girlfriend stealing and cheating at games I’d never even played.\n\n‘Rod, you just go back to Stacy, you slimey jackass,’ Grampa said, the wrinkles around his eyes squishing one atop the other with 70 year-old rage. \n\n‘Whatever, Dick,’ I sighed, walking over as if to smell the soup. ‘I paid you.’\n\n‘What did you pay me for?’ The man had asked. \n\nIrritated, and substantially more broke, I left the house. There was nothing I could do, after all. \n\nI didn’t see him again, the tall man from the kitchen, until several weeks later when he sat, teary eyed in the hospital waiting room, an attentive nurse at his elbow. \n\nAnd here we are again, sitting across from one another at a long wooden table, dressed in our Sunday best as a bespectacled lawyer reads the most recently revised copy of my grandfather’s will. A document meant to make me rich. His life and death all leaving a great financial impact on my future, familial love at its finest.\n\n“Robert,” the lawyer says, not looking up from the page, glasses perched low on the bridge of his nose. “Your grandfather has left you a sum of $15,000 and his house, which has been paid off.” \n\nAll of this sounds great but that money is chump change compared to his bank account. And then it happens.\n\n“Jason,” this time the lawyer looks up, trying to identify the man, failing, and returning to the page. “Richard has left you a sum of $3.8million.” \n\nHow smug he looks, fingers intertwined, feigning shock as he performs a chain of convincingly baffled ‘really’s and ‘why me’s. Meanwhile, bracing myself against the table I stare a hole into his forehead. The house would sell well, I know that. But it's a slap in the face and Jason was aware of that. The utilities would be far and beyond what I could afford. Selling the house meant either a lot of work or a lot of money, neither of which I was capable of. \n\nIf I learned anything, I’d say that it would be this: if you want something done, you’ve got to do it yourself. \n\nGame on, Jason. \n"
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[WP] A horror story, but where the zombies are the victims, chased by sadistic human hunters.
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"That's essentially the plot of I Am Legend. The book, not the movie. Everybody changed except for Will Smith, (obvi not Will Smith in the book) and then Will Smith was the boogeyman that came during the day killing people. In the end you find out they're sentient beings and essentially the next level in \"human\" evolution and there was no coming back.",
"Little Terry let our a roar and his father pulled him close. The muffled cries of the small child soaked against his father's chest as he held him tightly. \n\nThe father, a tall man dressed all in black, allowed himself one last look into the distance before he closed the hatches and looked away. A solitary tear trickled down his rough, pale face.\n\nTerry and his father were part of a crowd, all dressed smartly and huddled together. Some were holding hands, others were embracing, others like Terry's father made sure that they didn't have to watch what they all knew was about to happen.\n\nTerry stopped crying long enough to briefly squirm free from his father. He peered out through a gap under his arm, and peered beyond the armed guard who was stood 20ft in front of them. Beyond him further lay a polished box. It lay alone in a grass meadow, and whilst it was far too far to know what occupied the box, Terry - and everyone else gathered - certainly knew what lay inside.\n\nTerry felt the harsh caress of a the wind on his face, his father's embrace not enough to shield him from the bitterness of the day. Terry could feel his Father shaking, a man whom he had never seen an ounce of weakness, let alone shed a tear; and yet here he was crying and vulnerable, all dressed in black.\n\nTerry peered out to the box once more, and that was when he saw the pure white dress emerge from the box. It was beautiful, even by Terry's understanding. It appeared to shine in a way that he didn't even think possible; especially on a cold, gloomy day, where it seemed all colour and life had been sucked from the surroundings. \n\nThe pale grey face that topped the beautiful dress was familiar to Terry, and familiar to all that had gathered on that day. The thin grey hair fluttered in the wind, and the skin was all drained of colour - it was inhuman, and like nothing Terry had ever seen. \n\nAnd yet the sight of his recently dead Grandmother, standing on the middle of the meadow was oddly beautiful. \n\nShe stood before them with no ounce of emotion or knowing, but it was her. It was the old, loving woman who had gave him two digestive biscuits every day after school, it was the same woman who had always slipped him extra money on his birthday with the condition of keeping it secret from his parents. And that's when Terry heard the low, dim, sounds of the rumbling in the distance. People in the crowd let out cries as they too caught wind of the rumbling, of the approaching footsteps.\n\nThe Grandmother too, seemed aware. \n\nThe grim face of the lifeless old woman, that previously was void of any emotion now seemed *scared*, and *sad*. Terry watched intently as other around him shielded their eyes. A couple of figures turned away and began to walk away, afraid to witness what was to happen next. \n\nThe Grandmother turned, and began to run. The armed guard between the crowd and the woman stood motionless, his hand still firmly on the trigger of his rifle. \n\nAs she ran, the rumbling of the footsteps grew louder, and Terry could see the approaching hoard. Scores and scores of individuals dressed in odd fitting clothes. Some even wore no clothes at all. But what they did all have in common, were the sadistic looks on their faces, the bloodlust in their eyes, and the various weapon in their hands. \n\nAunt Yvonne screamed, she couldn't bare to watch. \n\nTerry's Grandmother kept running, his white dress already muddied by the white turf in which she was running. But it was over almost as soon as it started. \n\nSomething large and shiny, a throwing axe perhaps thought Terry, smashed into her back. There was screams of joy emanating from the chasing hoarde, but the Grandmother wasn't done. \n\nAlmost ominously though she stood straight back up and continued to run. But the hoarde were not to be deterred. \n\nOne assailant had caught up, and with the long machete grasped his his hand, swiped down across her leg removing the limb clean off. He grabbed the dismembered leg, and held it up in the air in triumph. \n\nThe grandmother though, carried on.\n\nNow crawling, she struggled along the ground. Terry saw, and he swears he saw, she turned and looked at him. She caught his eye with hers, and then stopped. She laid motionless as an assailant jumped on her back, and drove a spear through her head.\n\nTerry is now 24, and all his life zombie hunting has been real, legal, and profitable. \n \n\n\n",
"Uuugh... Braaaaain... People... BRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIN!\n\n*CLINKCLINK*\n\n\"Well now...\"\n\nUu.. Ugh... UGHHH! UUUGHHH!\n\n*CLINKCLINK*\n\n\"How was last night? Let's see here... The leg we hacked off actually healed up! Wow!\"\n\nUgh! UGH! UUUAA! AHHAAAA! AHAAHAAAAAA!\n\n*CLINKCLINK*\n\n\"Oh, that got me a nice response... Guess you still feel it when I stick those under your nails, huh?\"\n\nHUAA! HUAAAAAAAA! AAHAUAAA!\nUGAH! GAAAAH! AAAAAAAGH!\nUAGH! UAAAGH! UAAAAGH!\n\nuh.. Uh.... No brain.... brains...\n\n\"Hey! I'm back again! How long as it been this time? Hey, I got you a friend!\"\n\n*CLINKCLINKCLINKCLINK*\n\nUUUGH...\n\nEeeh....\n\nUah?\n\nHeeeeeeee...\n\n\"Looks like the two of you get along quite well, so let's try this out!\"\n\nHIYAAA! HIEEE!\nGUAAA! HAAA! AAAAAAGH! GHAAAA!\nEEEEEEH! HIIIEEE! HEEE!\nUGHAAA! AHUAAA! AHAUUU!\nHIEEE! HEEEEEEYIIIII!\n\n\"HAHAHA! You jokers look ridiculous! Alright 3 legs! 3 arms! See you tomorrow!\"\n\nUgh... Hugh....\n\nEeeh... No brain... No brain...\n\n*CLINKCLINK*\n\nU...\n\nHiii? Eeeeeh?\n\n...\n\nHIIII?!?!\n\n...\n\nHIIIIIIIYAAAAA! EIEEEEEEE!\n\n*CLINK*\n*CLINK*\n*CLINK*\n*CLINK*",
"I shamble forward, my injured leg dragging behind my rotting body.\n\nStep.\n\n*Slide.*\n\nStep.\n\n*Slide.*\n\nI can see the others, beside me. Various states of decay, silhouetted and shambling in the dim light. \n\nStep.\n\n*Slide.*\n\nStep.\n\n*Slide.*\n\nThe smell of rancid meat fills my nose- the half of it I have left- and I want to retch, but instead, my empty stomach rumbles with hunger. The Hunger. Some of us had succumbed to it, of course, but most of us refused to. We didn’t starve, at least not very quickly. It was only the uninfected we had to fear. We’d wait for the cure. Even if it killed us.\n\nStep.\n\n*Slide.*\n\nMost of the uninfected were naturally terrified. Walking corpses filled their streets. Yet, some of them spoke of a cure. That was a long time ago, though. Now, I feared they’d given up.\n\nStep.\n\n*Slide.*\n\nTrip.\n\nI fall to the ground, my jaw smacking hard against the asphalt. A stick pokes into one of my lungs, but I only feel a dim pressure. Small gifts of the illness.\n\nA photograph lays in front of me, stained dark with old blood. It shows a little girl on a swing, with a mother behind, pushing. Cute. It reminds me of Marla. Reminds me of home. Things I’d have to forget. I try to remember Marla’s face, but I’m met with grey fog. All of my memories end up this way. Grey fog, then I slowly forget.\n\nThe cure. I have to keep going. For the cure.\n\nI moan, slowly pushing myself from the ground. The others make way for me, and I’m relieved to see more behind me. Safety in numbers, I guess.\n\nI’d slowly gotten to know some of the others. In our own way.\n\n*Moan.*\n\nPause.\n\n*Moan.*\n\nIt was the closest we ever got to talking. I remember the first time I tried to talk, after the transition. A strange fuzziness filled my mind, as if something was just gone. I’d felt dizzy for the rest of the day.\n\nI continue walking.\n\nStep.\n\n*Slide.*\n\nStep.\n\n*Slide.*\n\nThe transition. Resurrection, whatever you called it. It wasn’t as painful as it looked. You slide into darkness, and for a minute, your body fills with warmth. Even the flu-like symptoms of the illness start to fade, in the last days before you change. It’s nice in a way. Like a going-away gift.\n\nStep.\n\n*Slide.*\n\nStep.\n\n*Slide.*\n\nWe come across a field of corpses. Other infected. Embers flicker in the burnt bodies. An acrid charcoal scent rises up from the dying flames. It’s not safe here.\n\nStep.\n\n*Slide.*\n\nThe others can tell we’re not safe here. I can sense the agitation in the air. They begin to move faster.\n\nStep.\n\n*Slide.*\n\nMy broken leg slows me down. I begin to fall towards the back of the group.\n\nStep.\n\n*Slide.*\n\nI can hear the rumble of a car in the distance. Something larger, like a jeep.\n\nStep.\n\n*Slide.*\n\nBOOM!\n\nAn explosion shakes the ground behind me. “We got one!” I hear a voice shout. I try to move faster, but it’s like being stuck in a dream where you can’t escape.\n\nStep. *Slide.* Step. *Slide.*\n\nConcussive fire fills the air. I can see an alley ahead of me. Maybe if I turn off the main road I can make it. I have to. For the cure. I hear the jeep bearing down on me. My heartbeat seems especially absent right now.\n\nI look back. For a moment, I believe I can make it, and then I see a rifle rotate in my direction. The flash of gunfire. No. *This is the end.*\n"
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[WP] An undercover xenobiologist desperately tries to explain to a party of adventurers why killing all of the goblins is a bad thing.
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"I sighed as we slogged through the mud and muck of the swamp. This tribe of goblins was secluded and way away from any civilization. I had theorized that they possibly could be peaceful. However I knew I wouldn't survive alone as a single 'Bard'. So I had tagged along with a group of adventurers after saying that the goblin tribe would be full of treasure.\n\nKnowledge, the treasure is a wealth of information that we wouldn't otherwise know about the little greenies. We'd be able to see how they would construct hunting implements without human civilization garbage to salvage. \"You know, they might have secrets or information about some local evils or dungeons that have remained hidden. If they're left alive it'll be easy to convince them to help us.\"\n\n\"No.\" the paladin said grabbing his holy symbol. \"If even one of them is detectable as evil I will not hesitate to exterminate the entire village. The first Tenet of a paladin of Halcy-\"\n\n\"Yes, I know,\" I interrupted. \"The righteous and holy will vanquish evil no matter where it may flourish.\" I sighed pulling out a journal and recording more information on our paladin's cult. It was only a short while before we would be at the village. \"I hope this doesn't turn out like the Kobolds.\" I muttered.\n\n---\n\nWe approached slowly and quietly. \"We really can't risk them figuring out we are here. It could upset them and potentially risk a hostile reaction.\" I whispered as we got within 60 feet of the nearest goblin hut. I rummaged around and pulled a spyglass out of my backpack. The sight I was able to see astounded me. \n\nThe goblins had begun rudimentary metallurgy evident by the female goblins were wearing jewelry or that gave rise to my hypothesis that even though they were isolated that they were possibly trading with other local monsters. Now if only I had been able to spot male goblins but they seemed to be away from their village to hunt. \n\n\"It's just female and Kidblins.\" Our rogue said her sharp elf eyes scanning around the village. \"No treasure aside from what the green-skins are wearing. They have what looks like either some cheap copper or bronze stuff.\" She cast me a dirty look. \"Whoa boy. A whole lot of treasure here.\"\n\n\"Let me see your glass, Bard.\" the paladin said. I complied and he roughly yanked it out of my hand. \"I don't detect any evil, and I don't make out any weapons or armor.\" He handed me back my spyglass and stood up from our hiding spot, and began walking into the village.\n\n\"No!\" I cried as I grabbed for his tunic and missed by a hair's breadth.\n\n\"Goblins. I, Alexander of Halcyonor, come to teach you the ways of The Allgod.\" He cried lifting his holy symbol up and bathing the encampment with a flood of light. \" He watched as they began to scramble away from him in terror. The light from his symbol faded swiftly. \"Tenet #2, Those that fear or flee from the light shall be hunted by it.\" He said drawing his sword.\n\n\"Now we're talking.\" The rogue said drawing daggers and using magic to blink to the paladin's side. \"Come on Gobbo's. it's slaughter time!\"\n\nBefore I could say anything a single spear lodged itself in the Paladin's neck, and he fell to the ground bleeding out.\n\n---\n\nAlex sat at the table stunned. \"You mean to tell me that the goblin crit with his thrown spear? Where was he?\"\n\n\"The goblin males were in the swamp hunting, your holy light show alerted them that you were there.\" Greg said taking a swig of coke straight from his two liter. \"Besides you're a paladin. If you killed the goblin women and children you would have fallen.\"\n\nI just sighed. No one ever listens to the bard.",
"\"It would be an ecological disaster!\"\n\n\"What is eekeeloggyjal?\" Gorbar the Barbarian said.\n\n\"I think\" Skeltos, the Necromancer, said. \"it's a form of druidic magic.\"\n\n\"What?\" Professor Burns said. \"No, it's the study of natural and organic systems.\"\n\n\"Right.\" Skeltos said. \"Druid magic.\"\n\n\"No it's not magic at all, it's science; study and observation.\"\n\n\"...to obtain magic?\" Shiv, the Thief, said.\n\n\"No! There's no magic!\"\n\n\"So what is point?\" Gorbar said.\n\n\"To learn, to understand.\" Burns said.\n\n\"I think I get it.\" Allaree, the priest, said. \"A better understanding of cultures allows us to establish the best way we might bring them into the Light.\"\n\n\"That's more anthropology, and also a cultural takeover.\" Burns said.\n\n\"Anthro-\"\n\n\"Don't worry about that Gorbar. We're focused on ecology here. Let me give you a simply example;\" Burns grabbed a thorny twig from the ground. \"bramblethorn is a threat to local crops, right?\"\n\n\"Right.\" Skeltos said. \"Leeches nutrients from the soil, you need to let the earth lie fallow for a whole season after you take them out.\"\n\n\"Exactly. Luckily for the local farmers the deer keep the bramble in check, right?\"\n\n\"Right.\"\n\n\"But the wolves hunt the deer. Fortunately there's less wolves than there are deer, so it's not an issue, there's a balance.\" The party looked at each other, and nodded in agreement. \"The reason there's a small wolf population is the Goblins hunt the wolves, they use the hide for armour and the meat for... well meat.\"\n\n\"Right.\"\n\n\"So if we kill all of the goblins then there won't be anyone to hunt the wolves, more wolves will be in the wild, and they'll eat the deer, less deer means more bramblethorn, more bramblethorn...\"\n\n\"Less crops.\" Shiv said.\n\n\"Exactly. So you see the issue, right?\" Professor Burns said.\n\n\"We could just posts quests for adventurers to take.\" Shiv said. \"I'm sure the village councils would pay the reward money, that would keep the wolf problem down, plus it would have the added effect of injecting cash into the local economies, with an influx of high-earning adventurers more small businesses could take advantage of the low land prices and customers, which would in turn increase the volume of quests. This could actually be what this part of the coast needs for some serious metropolitan development.\"\n\n\"That's pretty well thought-out, Shiv.\" Skeltos said. \n\n\"I actually took economics at the University.\"\n\n\"Huh, I never had you pegged for an econo-\"\n\n\"You a fucking economist but you've never heard of ecology?\" Burns said, close to tearing their hair out. Shiv shrugged.\n\n\"I'm a Thief, not a druid.\"\n\n\"IT'S NOTHING TO DO WITH FUCKING DRUIDS.\" Burns shouted, throwing their hands in the air and dropping their case, heavily.\n\n\"Please remain calm.\" Allaree said. \"Violence is never the answer.\"\n\n\"SAYS THE PRIEST ADVOCATING GENOCIDE!\"\n\n\"Goblins are creatures of Evil.\" Allaree replied.\n\n\"Evil bad.\" Gorbar added.\n\n\"And a vital part of the local ecosystem!\"\n\n\"What if I were to raise the goblins as undead minions after we kill them?\" Skeltos said. \"Then they could still hunt the wolves.\"\n\n\"It's about more than the wolves, that was just an example. What about the Ogres who eat the goblins? What about the Forest of Mists that's fertilised by Ogre dung coming downsteam from the mountains?\"\n\n\"I think it's a bit of a stretch to say the goblins are vital to the Forest of Mists.\" Shiv said.\n\n\"That's what I'm trying to fucking tell you! They are linked, and it's not a stretch, it's a very comprehensive science called ecology!\"\n\n\"What if we wiped out the local wolf dens as well?\" Skeltos said.\n\n\"FORGET THE FUCKING WOLVES!\" Burns screamed. They sighed, reached into their case and pulled out a small plate of enchanted metal, it displayed coloured images of dragons on its face when Burns pressed their fingers against it. \"Look.\" They said. \"You remember the famine of Kareshfell three years ago? That was triggered by an ecological collapse after the Dragons of Icefan-\"\n\n\"Bahahahaha! You expect us to believe that crap? The famine was retribution from the Orcish god Haggadag after his champion was slain. Icefang is nowhere near Karashfell anyway, they're about a hundred leagues apart!\" Shiv said. \n\n\"I've got it.\" Skeltos said. \"If we recruit a druid into the party-\"\n\n\"FUCK THE DRUIDS!\" Burns screamed, throwing their enchanted tablet at Skeltos. \"FUCK THE LOT OF YOU. I'M GOING HOME.\" Burns pulled a small object like a sword hilt without a blade from their pack and spoke into the end. \"Burns to *Starstepper*, one to teleport.\" They vanished in a glint of blue light. The other party members looked at each other.\n\n\"Weirdo.\" Shiv said.\n\n\"Yeah.\" Allaree said. \"Anyway, are we all agreed? We wipe out the goblins, collect the reward, then move onto the next quest?\"\n\n\"Agreed.\" The rest of the party replied.\n\n---\n\n*Thanks for reading! Click [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Xais56/) for more stories!*"
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[WP]You successfully defend yourself from a pair of muggers, eventually taking both their lives. You were calm the whole time, precise in movement, and nonplussed throughout. Now that the ordeal is done, you need to explain what just happened to the only 3 witnesses...your wife and two daughters.
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" I looked at the three, my wife sobbing her jacket torn. My two daughter hiding at her waist clinging to her legs. I knelt down in-front of my wife taking both daughters by the hand. At first they pulled away but I was their Dad and they wanted nothing more than to be close to me. I brushed a few strands of unruly blonde hair behind the youngest’s ear, and wiped the tears from the others cheeks.\n “I won’t ever let anyone hurt you.” I said as I took their hands again. “You’re my whole world, and I would do what ever it takes to save the world.”\n I looked up to my wife who’s hands shook. I stood up quieting her hands in mine. “No fear, no challenge will keep me away from you.” She rested her head against my chest as our daughters clung to us. “It’s over.” I said as I heard the sirens in the distance.",
"It happened before I could even process it. \n\nOne moment, Anthony was stood beside me, holding Lily's hand, chattering about Lily's favourite movie: Up. The next moment there were two dead muggers on the ground, knives in their hands, eyes staring straight up, a rushing puddle of blood seeping from under them. I was holding onto Elena and she stared down from the comfort of my chest at their bodies and joined me in looking at her father wipe clean a knife and drop the bloody tissue onto the floor, wordless. \n\nLily stumbled backwards, her face a blank white sheet. I was frozen. Looking at the eyes of pure evil return back into the precious brown eyes of my husband. He turned away and lifted our five year old into his arms. My oldest couldn't even cry or scream. She lay limp in his arms. He finally gave me full attention. Even Elena knew to not whine or burst a sound from her lips. The tension between us and the bodies on the floor was suffocating, thick and unavoidable that my two year old could sense it. As a mother, not knowing what to do hurt.\n\n\"Let's go,\" Anthony's voice was colder than I had ever heard it. He stepped forward over their bodies.\n\nI could not move a single muscle. I thought that if I was to take a step, I'd fall with Elena in my arms.\n\nAnthony turned to me, eyes still softening. \n\n\"We have to leave this area,\" he said, \"It's not safe.\"\n\nMy mouth trembled as I tried to reply. But I couldn't. A sound didn't form. Instead, tears filled up my eyes, blurring his image. I looked at him, my murdering husband, with my memories of who I knew dying right before me. The kind sweet man. A wonderful husband and a brilliant and loving father. A man of patience, of passion and most importantly, a gentle soul. Someone I looked up to deeply. Someone I cherished with all of my heart. A cold-blooded murderer who showed no sign of fear or terror. Someone who could kill without even losing his breath. A man who walks with a knife, whilst walking home from the cinemas with his wife and young children. A man who steps over the dead bodies of people he had slaughtered. A monster.\n\n\"Who... are... you?\" I wept, clinging onto my daughter. Seeing Lily practically lifeless against his head, her arms and legs hanging in his grip. Elena reacted to the sound of my voice and began to cry. I held her closer yet.\n\n\"We have to leave,\" he said again, his voice now as I remembered, a hand reached to me. \"There may be more coming,\" he gulped. Under the streetlight in this warm dusk, I could see guilt streaming down his cheeks.\n\n\"More...\" my mind was overridden. Why was he crying? Why?\n\n\"We've got to leave, now, Lucia,\" he edged towards me just as I heard the stomp of feet heading straight for us. \n\nThe thing is, I wish I could have apologised. \n\nAnd taken his hand. Escaped with him and disappeared to safety. \n\nThen I could have watched my girls grow. \n\nMaybe we would have had a son or rescued a puppy for Lily. We would have gone on great holidays, explored castles and hills and mountains and fields of flowers and the oceans and islands, seeing sunsets over and over, tracking stars across the night sky. Held their hands through heartbreak as they grew into women, helped them with prom dresses and periods and boys and exams-- through their sicknesses and stomach aches. Their birthdays and magical Christmases, chasing chocolate eggs and bunnies, sitting through boring assemblies and shows, hearing out of tune performances and dances. \n\nBut.\n\nIt happened before I could even process it. \n\nA man stepped behind me and dug in his blade deep into my back. Over and over. All I could do was double over, land on my knees and scream to Elena to run to her daddy. See his tears of helplessness as Elena was moved into his arms. He had a duty as a father to protect his girls. And he escaped. Lily shrieking over his shoulder, arm outstretched to me. \n\nI couldn't even feel pain. Just my life draining away, my children and my husband disappearing into the distance as uncountable feet raced after him.\n\nWhy had we chosen that way home? I don't know. It was a short cut off the main road. Just a few minutes less than walking in a well lit area. Anthony had voiced his concern and I didn't listen. I knew he was uneasy. But we still went. \n\nAll I had to do was hold his hand and run with him. But I was stuck there. With the dead bodies lying there. What was I thinking? Just fear. Of him. Why? He had always protected me. But he couldn't. \n\nAnthony. Please... I don't know if you'll ever hear me, but, I don't care what you do. You always loved me and Lily and Elena with all of your being. And I know now-- you never wanted to put me in danger. And I don't know how you ever became such a person beneath all of your love, but, I'll forgive you-- if you protect my girls from more pain. I'll never forgive you if you let them suffer again.\n\n~~something a little different?~~",
"\"Alright, guys, I don't want want trouble.\"\n\nIt didn't matter. They had demanded my wallet but I sensed they might not be what they seemed. I reached into my pocket and pretended to look down at it but when I saw their weight shift I knew what was coming. I mentally sighed as I redirected Idiot1's knife into Idiot2's femoral artery and Idiot2's knife into Idiot1's cubital fossa. \nIn order to prevent the inevitable noise of their screams from alerting anyone inside I jabbed quickly into each ones throat and solar plexus. The bruises would be suspicious but I was already formulating a story about two men getting into an argument and then a knife fight as they fell to their knees. They looked surprised, like they couldn't decide whether to clutch at their throats because they couldn't breathe or their wounds because they were bleeding. I frowned as Idiot1 looked up at me in horror of what I had done to him. I gave him a slight twitch of the head as he hawker at me, as if to say 'what did you expect me to do.'\n\nAs their choking became more desperate I turned to run inside, shouting like the terrified civilian I was supposed to be, but stopped short, the scream dying in my throat. As the grim silence rolled over their dying gurgles it was incongruously matched with the cheerful jingle of the bell on the shop door.\n\nMy wife and daughters stared at me, as was their right; one does not often see a man, once seen to literally refuse to hurt a fly, murder two other men with the same cold efficiency with which one wipes a kitchen counter.\n\n\"Run!\" I said in lieu of an explanation, and started running toward them. in their shocked state, they needed no explanation. They ran.\n\nedit: changed schoolgirl into grown man",
"As the mugger slumped onto the floor, the last of his breath stolen from him a mere moments ago, his eyes wide open, I could see the looks of horror coming from the three people I loved most in the world.\n\nMy heart didn't even skip a beat from the confrontation up to seeing their faces. Those beautiful, innocent faces. I did not deserve these angels.\n\nI stared deep into my wife's eyes as I pulled out my phone and started to type a phone number in, never taking my eyes off her. Tears burst silently from the hazel eyes, like a damaged dam finally conceding to mother nature.\n\nThe line picked up on the other end, silence greeted me. I sighed \"Recycling needs to be collected, Alleyway between brooker and barker street. Two bags of garbage have been thrown outside\"\n\n\"It isn't recycling day today\" a stern voice broke the silence.\n\n\n\"I know, but even if there is too much waste, we can't send them to outer space, can we?\" code to confirm what I am.\n\n\"Agreed, does anything else need to be recycled today?\"\n\n\"Just a couple pieces of clothes need to be donated, can it be collected for charity?\"\n\n\"Yes. We will be waiting.\"\n\n\nSilence.\n\n\"Jess, wait here with the girls please. I pulled a handkerchief out and dabbed away her tears. She flinched ever so slightly as I touched her.\n\n\nA van had started to reverse into the alleyway, I recognised the license plate code. As two men got out they saluted and walked to the bodies a click of a button the back of the doors opened electronically. \n\n\n\"Marcus, thanks again. Watch them please whilst I donate my clothes.\" I got into the back of the van and stripped as fast as I could, and opened a bag marked charity. Now clothed, I jumped off the end of the van and walked towards my family. they had not moved an inch. \"follow me, please\".\n\n\"NOW\" as they jumped they stumbled behind me. we walked for about 5 minutes until we came across our car.\n\n\"In please\" I unlocked the car and turned the heating on. only silence was met as I drove home. \n\nI unlocked the door to our beautiful 4 bedroom modern house. \n\n\"Kids go upstairs, have a shower and get changed please. If you could bring down the clothes you've worn today and put them in the bags I'll have waiting for you, that would be really sweet of you guys.\" my voice still calm almost hypnotic as I politely commanded my children to assist me in destroying evidence.\n\nthey both nodded and ran upstairs.\n\n\n\" WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON, RYAN? WE ALMOST LOST OUR LIVES TODAY WHEN WE GOT FUCKING MUGGED, BUT YOU STEPPED IN AND MURDERED THEM! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU? I DON'T EVEN KNOW YOU, WHO THE FUCK WERE THOSE PEOPLE IN THE VAN?\" She breathed for a couple of seconds before screaming aloud again. I grabbed her hand and pulled her along upstairs. Opening the door to our room i strode straight into our en suite I plopped her onto the toilet as I started the shower off. I checked the temperature she has it at exactly 117.3°F. I stood her back up, I kissed her on the cheek. I pulled her arms into the air as I lovingly took her top off, I kissed her cheeck, as I hugged her to take off her bra. As I finished taking off the rainder of her clothes I pulled her into the shower with me and carefully washed her body. She had not uttered one word.\n\nI think i've broken her. Fuck...\n\nAs i dried her hair, She softly asked me \"who are you?\"\n\n\"You know my name is Ryan Morris. Which is the truth. My career choice is not of a successful Lawyer with a Select number of clients who pay me handsomely. The US Government contract work to a company simply known as Recycling the USA LTD. We're a private black ops team.\" As you guys now know, you're going to have to brought in for questioning. Sign a Non-disclosure statement. One from our company, the other from the government.\"\n\n\n\"Do you feel?\" she questioned me desperately looking for an answer.\n\n\n\"Sometimes.\" It was the only answer that was the truth as ambiguous as it was\n\nshe looked confused, she looked to the floor \" Do you love me?\" tears hit her hands\n\nI felt a lump in my throat threatening to strangle me as I had done to that vermin this morning. \" With all of my heart. You and the kids are the only things in the world I would ever give my life for.\"\n\nI kneeled beside her and hugged her. \"Know that I would do anything for you\"\n\nI don't know how long i hugged her as she cried. I've never felt pain like this before. the gunshot wounds, the stabs and slashes I've had all over my body. I would gladly feel them all over again to stop this feeling."
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[WP] You have the reverse Midas touch: if you touch a gold likeness of something, it becomes the real thing.
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"\"Uh... Fuck.\"\nThe whole room was empty... except for the mayhem I caused.\nSee, I was on a field trip to the world's most expensive museum - some kind of gold statue exhibitions. Pure gold. 100% booty.\nIt could have been cool. I like the shiny gold. Kinda.\nBut you see, I have got a weird ability: reverse Midas touch. Combine huge statues of Anubis guards made of gold and my ability...... and you get the point anyways.\n\n\"Come on. Help us.\"\n\nA huge elephant-headed something was levitating in front of me. The original label said \"Ganesha, Hindu god of wisdom\", but I guess it was the real thing now.\n\n\"You want me to 'free' your other comrades and help you hide?\"\n\nMan, I hate inhuman beings. They see too much.\n\n\"Yes\" it said in a deep, supernatural voice.\n\n\"And what do I get out of it?\"\n\n\"We get you some Nutella.\"\n\n\"What a pity, but I am allergic to peanuts. Sorry.\"\n\nIt raised its nose and scratched what I thought was its top of head. Then, suddenly, he let out a whistle, and two Incan living statues brought in an another golden statue. It was depicting a woman, dressed in fine tunics, fitted with jewelry and a nice look.\n\n\"You help us get away and you get her. Deal?\"\n\nI hesitated, but this was a once-in-a-lifetime chance.\n\n\"Deal.\"",
"It’s almost time. 10:58. I get this power at 11 and it lasts until midnight. The song is set, the lights are low. 10:59. I pour some wine into the two goblets. She looks so beautiful, standing there in her ballet outfit, just as I remember her 40 years ago. I commissioned this for her 20 years ago, praying that I’d never need it.\n11:00. I feel a surge of energy rush through me, like a breath of fresh air. I reach over and touch the fingertip of the golden statue. The hand glows warmly for an instant, then the gold melts away into flesh and bone. The rest of the statue follows, and she is there, just as though she’d never aged. I take her hand as she steps off the pedestal and into my arms. With practice grace, I spin her round and hit the button on the stereo in the same motion. “Come Fly With Me” by Frank Sinatra comes through the speakers.\n“Evelyn,” I breathe. Every time I see her, it’s like the first time.\n“Henry,” she says, “has it been a week already?”\n“Yes, my dear, we’re together again. For a bit.” We dance as the music picks up.\n“Then let’s make the most of it,” whispers my wife. Dead five years, but I can still spend an hour a week with her. She might just be a statue, an echo, but it’s enough to keep me going.\n55 minutes later, we’re sitting on the couch, sipping our wine, exhausted from dancing.\n“Do you have to go?” I ask her. Every time, I ask her the same thing. And the answer is always the same.\n“You know I do. Your power only lasts until midnight.”\n“What’s it like,” I ask her, “going back to a statue? What do you feel?”\nShe shrugs and takes another sip. 11:57.\n“Nothing,” she says simply, “it’s just like falling asleep. And every morning I wake up to your face.” She beams at me, the same smile she wore since we were in college.\nShe stands and climbs back up onto the pedestal. I tried to hold her once, to keep her with me, but she dissolved in my arms and reappeared on the base. I let her go this time. I learned it’s easier for both of us. She assumes her pose.\n“Goodnight, Henry. Until next week.”\n“Goodnight, Evelyn. I love you.”\n“I love you, too.” She is smiling as the gold engulfs her. I feel drained, the power gone. I sigh and head to my bed, empty these past few years.\n“Until next week.”"
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[WP] We Always thought that it was Santa and the Elves but what if it was The Elf and Santa's?
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"Elorshin trudged his way through the harsh snow, centuries of living in the North still doing little to dull the cold that chilled him to the bone. It reminded him of when he and his kin fled their homes, the loss of the forests to the axes and fire of man forcing them further and further north. As they made their exodus, some lucky few were taken in by The Cobbler, The Fudgemaker, and The Red Coat, those lucky few that were still fit to work. The rest were sent away, possibly back to the endless wars that ravished their homelands: The Fourlands, the Woodlands, the Dark World. The Red Coat, a magician of sorts, was rumored to deliver gifts to the human children one mystical night a year, and while his altruism may seem noble, he still worked the elves all year round to craft those gifts.\n\nFlicking the switch, florescent lights poured over The Workshop. In days long past, The Workshop was filled with benches and benches where Elorshin and his elf brethren would slave away crafting toys for the human children. But Industry and Innovation had finally come to the North Pole, and now those same benches were replaced by ugly steel, machines whose ugly chugs and rumbles stabbed at Elorshin's ears. The commodities they produced were filth compared to what an elvish hand could craft, yet mass-production was essential now that man had conquered the globe and now spread amongst the stars. The Red Coat's magic unable to extend past the Earth, a group called The Toy Givers had taken up his mantle, fulfilling the wishes of those children no longer bound to the Earth. So many of them to deliver the toys, but only one elf now needed to work the machines, his kin were sent off once again to the war-lands they had sought refuge from so many generations ago.\n\nBut today was not another day to build toys. Lamenting the loss of his brothers and sisters to the rise of the machines, to the ever-reaching colonization, to the ever-hunger of the humans, Elorshin decided this would be his last day amongst the Toy Givers, and the start of his reunion with his kin. He broke open one of the machines and stole the raw materials from its insides. With his own hands, elvish-hands, Elorshin fashioned himself a pair of sturdy boots and a coat, garments to survive an escape from the ever-winter of the North. After the clothing, he didn't realize he was still building one last gift until the sting was set taut, one last gift to man to remind them of the elves stolen ancestral lands.\n\nFire, Elorshin thought as he looked around at the machinery rumbling along without a care to his mutiny. It was almost poetic, he thought as he began leaking gasoline from the machines all over The Workshop floor, after all the humans used it to drive us from our homes so it was only right that it be used to drive them from theirs.\n\nAs he left the workshop, an inferno beginning to burn behind him, the first sirens went off. Man thought the cold of the North would be enough to snuff out any flame. What they didn't count on was the mixture of man's gasoline and the last of Elorshin's magicks. He had watched the first sparks, coaxed them to life until they were almost like living creatures, jumping from pool to pool of gasoline, spreading and growing and raging.\n\nFirst came the ravens, the first of the Red Coat's watchers. Their caws drew out the rest of the horde: the Red Coat's wolves, the Toy Givers' reindeer, and finally the Toy Givers and the Red Coat themselves.\n\n\"What have you done, you damn elf!\" one of the Toy Givers shouted, stepping forward, spear in hand.\n\nElorshin said nothing, the value of patience instilled into every elf from their birth. Instead he just watched the man approach, watched him ready his spear, watched him strike. Then Elorshin dodged, a step to the side dodged the spear-point. In one motion, he pulled an arrow from his quiver and punched the tip into the man's chest before pulling it out and readying it to be fired from his now unslung bow.\n\nThe first barrage of arrows Elorshin focused on the wolves. Hunters by nature, the last thing he wanted was a set of fangs slowing him down long enough for the rest of the pack to descend upon him, or worse, the men. The reindeer he dodged with ease as they barrelled passed him either on the ground or in the air, infused with flight by the Red Coat's magic. Elorshin's natural elf agility made them more of a nuisance than a threat as they charged head-first, typically finding only empty air as Elorshin evaded, occasionally their horns catching the soft flesh of a Toy Giver.\n\nIt was the Red Coat and the Toy Givers that Elorshin had the most trouble with, arrow after arrow finding only empty air. At first, he thought it might be due to not having fired a bow after so long, his abilities rusty. Though, he thought, it was impossible for an elf to miss a target this many times, no matter the situation. Eventually he realized it was the Red Coat's magic, the magic to be everywhere and anywhere at once now infused within the men to assist them in avoiding his attacks. He tried instead to predict where they would appear after evading his arrow, but that didn't work as well. When he guessed one would appear on his left, instead he appeared on the right. When he predicted one would appear behind him, instead they were right next to him, ready to strike with their spears.\n\nArrow after arrow fired and none of them finding their marks, every missed arrow fired gave the men one more opening to attack with their spears. Cut after cut, stab after stab, slowly they wore him down, his elfin agility no longer able to keep pace with the Red Coat's magic. Then came the last, the Red Coat in the end piercing his spear through Elorshin's chest and driving it out his back. Quick and sudden, combined with Elorshin's exhaustion, the elf fell to his knees without so much as a complaint, then onto his front, though never letting go of his bow. The Red Coat, without fear, turned his back to his opponent.\n\n\"What's the damage?\" asked the Red Coat to one of the Toy Givers as Elorshin bled into the snow.\n\n\"The entire Workshop is gone,\" replied the other man as they stared into the flames now engulfing the building, \"We still haven't completed the gifts for three of the space stations at this point with just a day left until delivery.\"\n\nThe two men stood in silence for a moment as Elorshin took the last of his breaths. The Red Coat snapped his fingers, \"Find those elves, the ones we sold off as conscripts to the slaver heading back toward The Woodlands. Tell him we will buy them back.\"\n\nWith his last dying breath and hearing the Red Coat's words, Elorshin once again imagined the sounds and songs of this brethren at work released from the fear of war and battle, and he smiled as he drifted away."
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[WP] 3 friends reminisce about their 4th friend who died as a teenager. They visit his grandma's house to see where they all used to hang out. Find a secret room with their friend there, now an adult, stuck in some kind of purgatory.
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"\"Remember our old teacher Mr. Buckley?\" Titus asked as he took a sip of his jack and coke. \n\n\"That old hippy guy who talked about all that weird shit?\" Javion replied. \"What about him, Tits?.\" \n\n\"I didnt think he was weird, Jon. He helped me alot back when Craighton died...\" Patton muttered.\n\n\"Yeah... me to Pat... We should really visit Craig's grandma, see how she's doing.\"\n\nTheir old teacher used to talk about meditation, metaphysics, afrerlife, possibility, impossibility, space time, limbo, and purgatory. Jon was not wrong when he referred to Mr. Buckley as weird. While reminiscing about their old friend, they go through Creighton's grandma's house and revisit old little hang out spots. \n\nWhile visiting the last place all 4 of the friends were at when they were all together, the bottom of an old laundry chute that had been closed off as long as they remember. Merely a small room at the bottom of a flight of stairs lit solely by the hall light radiating down from an open hatch at the top.m.\n\nAs they neared the bottom of the stairs, they could see their old blanket fort. \n\nPASSWORD REQUIRED FOR ENTRY \n\nA piece of paper safety pinned to one of the door flaps said in big red marker.\n\n\"Man i can't believe this is still here.\" Jon says, as he sees the old plaid blanket fort set ominously at the foot of the stairs. \n\nTits goes to extend the flaps to either side. Pat grabs his arm. \"Dude c'mon lets leave it. This all feels so weird right now.\"\n\n\"Yeah it does feel weird, we all know you cant enter without the password.\" Jon laughed.\n\n\"Right right...\" Tits smirked.\n\n\"Wickalackjack johnsonbergerheimerstein meister, grant us passage to the chill spot!\" Jon and tits said aloud in unison. Pat finally cracked a faint smile. \n\nUsing their phones as flashlights they sre rummaging through all the randim junk still there. Its just as they left it, 4 pillows they used as their \"thrones\", some old Pokemon cards, a gameboy color, empty pop bottles, and nerf guns. \n\n\"Tits check this out!\" Jon said enthusiastically as he say Titus gazing solemnly into an old photo of the gang if 4 kids. \n\nAs Titus turns to look at Javion he hears the click of a nerf gun and instinctively drops to one knee to avoid getting hit in the face by the nerf dart.\n\n\"Hey grab that dart it was the last one left in this thing, also, we need to check out thr new nerf guns and mod them again like old times. This thing could probably kill a rabbit with a little more work t-\"\n\n\"What the fuck\", Titus cut off Jon as he peeked his head through the partition between the blankets to the right of the entrance of their small fort.\n\n\"Wasnt there a wall here?\" He asked.\n\n\"I honestly dont remember we just always had this fort here that Craigs grandpa helped us make all those years ago.\" Pat said as Titus disappeared through the newly discovered side \"door\". \n\nJon and pat followed suite. The trio stood in a narrow hallway and see nothing but a doorway at the end.m with light eminating in a rectangle around the door. They begin hearing a slight bang... Bang... Bang... It grows slightly louder as they draw near the door. \n\nTits reaches toward the handle, as his fingers touch the knob to door to the room, the banging stoos abruptly. He opens the door about an inch and peeks in. His eyes become hot and begin to tear up as he releases his grip on the door and lets it swing wide open slowly. \n\n\"Dude no way...\" he mmbles.\n\nTitus runs into the room sobbing and is now standing in the middle of the room hugging what appears to be mannequin holding its arms out like its waiting for a hug. \n\nJon turns on the light and as pupils shrink to adjust to the now well-lit room the figure becomes clear. Titus is standing there hugging Craig sobbing violently into his chest. Upon this discovery Jon's legs give out and his now just on his knees in the doorway arms slinked to either side, palms up, mouth agape. \n\nPat is still a little ways into the hallway frozen in disbelief, eyes wide. \n\n\"Hey guys im glad you finally came to visit me; only took you dicks 15 years.\" Craig smiled.\n\n\"What the fuck is going on...\" Jon said incredulously. \n\n\"Well im not entirely sure either, man. But I've had alot of time to sit here by myself and try to figure it out.\" Craignsaid pushing Tits back from their embrace.\n\n\"Do you remember that shit Mr. Buckley used to talk about in class?\" He asked Tits."
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[WP] You team up with a group of like minded induviduals to form an underground resistance to your HOA - and you decide it is time for some guerilla warfare.
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"*Knock*\n\n*Knock*\n\n*Knock-Knock*\n\n*Knock*\n\nThe door to Steve's basement unlatched and swung open slowly. \"Mornin' Joe.\" \"Morning Sullivan,\" I said, walking through the door. Tasha and Mike were stooped over the map of our neighborhood, specific locations marked with flags and red twine. \"Latest news?\" I asked. \"Operation *Lady-in-Pink* went off without a hitch.\" \"How many out there?\" \"1-4-7.\" \"A hundred and forty seven lawn flamingos!? That's sure to cause trouble.\" \"You bet. Captain Steve wanted to see you by the way.\" \"Alright.\" \n\nI walked into the second room, Steve's office. He was hunched over a laptop, his stubble grey from years of grisly accounting. \"Hey Joe.\" \"Heyo Steve, what do you need?\" \"I recently came into ownership of a [1989 kia pride](http://carphotos.cardomain.com/ride_images/4/609/3409/39021704001_original.jpg). I want her on cinders with no driver door or hood in Sammy's yard by Friday.\" \"Sam is not going to like that.\" \"Well tough toenails. Unless she wants to start sucking off HOA, she has to play along.\" \"Alright then, can I get Manny or Jen to help out?\" \"Manny is Dakota right now but Jen should be free, might even be able to use her companies garage.\"\n\n*Two days later* \n*Sammy's front yard* \n2:36 AM\n\n\"Back a little... little more... stop. Alright, park her and we can start jacking the wheels off.\" \"Freudian slip there Jen?\" \"You know what I meant Joe... just get working, the neighborhood watch will be by in a smidge over an hour.\" Luckily, Jen had the guys at her company's car shop remove the doors and hood and loosen the wheel bolts. Removing the wheels was easy but time consuming. We had just finished when... \"Shit! Get down!\" We dove behind a picket fence at the back of Sam's yard. Peering through the slats we could see the vengeful flashlights of the watch. Their beams of light scanned the yard, resting on the now shambled car. \"That wasn't there yesterday. More goddamn paperwork, flippin' kids.\" He grumbled as he walked off down the street. \"That was close... good eyes Jen. I didn't even notice.\" \"What would you do without me... yeah... we're good to go.\" We bid a hasty retreat back to Steve's basement. Me and Jen are the two youngest in the *Blok Against HOA*, 32 and 34 respectively, and thus we get on better than the oldies like Steve or Paula. We're both single too, I'm recently divorced, and... never mind...\n\n...\n\nWhy am I acting like a high schooler with their first crush.\n\nAnd why is there smoke rising from Steve's house!\n\n\"Oh no...\""
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[WP] You're the chosen one, who's destined to topple the government. Problem is, that everyone actually likes the government, and the "evil dictator" is actually a democratically elected champion of the people.
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"There was a time when happiness was a dream held deep in the hearts of men. Utopias could be built and destroyed in fiction, but life remained a cycle of suffering and strife. Our System was a revelation for humanity; a way to take us from the dark ages we brought upon ourselves with greed and lust. We built paradise, and in it we evolved into better creatures. Unquestioning, humble, polite. Our System was built on the backs of many generations, all with the dream of our perfect world, a dream of peace and prosperity.\n\nSo why should I be the one to bring it all to an end?\n\nWe were always taught in school that our minds would create evil thoughts we could not control, questions that we did not need to know the answers to. Eventually, we stopped hearing these thoughts; we knew the truth of Our System, we had seen the paradise with our own eyes, what could we question? And for years I was content without questions, not even succumbing to a sole stray thought or curious impulse. How is it now that my mind betrays me, that these heretical words cloud my vision?\n\nYou are the chosen one. You are free. You will end the suffering. You will end Our Leader. You will topple Our System. I couldn’t stop the echoes, couldn’t block them out. Why would I want to end Our Leader? Why would I want to topple Our System? They have brought such joy to the world!\n\nBut the words meant nothing compared to the flashes. The visions of flame, of caged children so starved I could see their skeletons. In the background, I saw the symbol of Our System. The faces of Our Leader, and Our Father. I could see the thoughts of firing squads, the knowledge that they would kill for Our System.\n\nLittle thought went into the murder. Why would anyone want to kill Our Leader? Why would anyone want to kill the man who won all the popular vote, every year? Why would any member of Our System even think of killing at all? He died without struggle, as easy as flicking a switch. When the mob threw me into the cell, I didn’t resist. Suppressed anger came from their hearts, and I experienced pain like no man had experienced for years. Perhaps it was the anger that I released in that mob that day that destroyed Our System. A carefully constructed house of cards, toppled by a single outsider.\n\nThe myth of immortality had been broken, and I was the second person to experience death since Our System was established."
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[WP] What they had found, it turns out, was not the Fountain of Youth, but the Fountain of Immaturity
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"It had been six months since the Americans had discovered the fountain. A recreational cave diving team in the heart of Georgia found it through dumb luck. It didn’t take long for people to realize that the waters from the underground fountain had strange properties and in a blink, the military took it over. \n\nNo one could imagine the solution to North Korea would come like this. A weaponized form of the fountain’s waters had been smuggled into a state celebration. An odorless and tasteless vapor dispersed amongst the crowds and within days the power structure of the North Korean government crumbled. \n\nNow the rest of the world is on edge, a weapon exists that can turn anyone into an unpredictable and unreliable mess. A weapon wielded by a man with infamous similarities to a spoiled child, many fear that out of sheer ego he would use the weapon to cripple those who spoke out against him. \n\nWith the current headlines about how the president of China had been seen running through downtown Shanghai in nothing but his underwear while listening to rap music, it’s only a matter of time before this dooms us all. \n"
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[WP] Hiking the Alaskan wilderness, you come across what seems to be the Visage of Bob Ross. He's knee-deep in the snow, painting the local landscape. You decide to strike up a conversation.
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"Hiking out of a snow covered forest; he was greeted with a spectacular view of frosted mountains behind a frozen lake in the most pristine condition he could have ever imagined. James had never seen something so breathtaking in his life and stood still letting the energy of the moment flow through him. While scanning the view, his eyes were drawn to an odd little dot in the landscape jutting out of the untouched blanket of snow. \n\nJames hiked toward the spec and was surprised to find it was a person. As James drew closer he saw the person was wearing comfortable jeans and a button down shirt. The weather was nearly 40 below; it was incomprehensible how someone could be dressed so casually in this environment while James was bundled up in many layers of purposely engineered materials. \n\nJames saw this man was a painter and had been painting the gorgeous view before them. He waited until he had drawn close enough to speak normally to announce himself. “Hello there!” He said cautiously. \n\nThe man had a round afro which was covered in a fine layer of snow that fall around him as he turned his head to face James. “Good afternoon” the man replied, his voice soothing and compassionate. \n\n“Are you okay? Do you live around here? You’re not dressed for this weather.” James’ excitement was a stark contrast to the man’s aura of calm.\n\n“It’s quite nice actually” The man smiled before turning back to his painting. “The name is Bob.” \n\nJames believed the man must be suffering from hypothermia and wanted to do his best to help the lost painter. \n\n“It’s very kind to worry about me James, but I’m not in any danger and my mind is fit as a fiddle. It’s you that I’m worried about.”\n\nJames’ eyes grew wide. How did this man know his name? A cold breeze swept through him, the sensation of a thousand needles cascading through his body caused him to groan. \n\n“I’ve got some sad news for you James, but once you hear it, I promise you’ll feel better.” \n\n“What do you mean?” James asked.\n\n“You were on your way to the ranger station when your truck broke down. You knew you’d freeze if you waited there and the rangers weren’t responding on the radio, so hiking the rest of the way seemed like your best bet.” \n\nThe painter turned around, took a step toward James and gently placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. \n\n“You’ve been walking for a long time, haven’t you James?”\n\nJames nodded, he considered running as the hungry cold bit deeper into him. \n\n“You’re dead James, I know that’s hard to hear, but it’s not so bad. It’s normal for people to die and to be scared of what they don’t know or can’t see.”\n\nJames was stunned, his mind didn’t know how to process this surreal moment, a man who should be frozen to death was telling him that he was in fact the one who is dead. \n\nBob stepped a bit closer to James and held his hands. He gently undid the strap which secured James’ gloves to his jacket and with a tender tug, exposed his hands to the air. Bob embraced James and smiled.\n\n“Death isn’t so bad James, but like standing atop a waterslide, it can be quite frightening, even exciting but once you take the leap, it can be a whole lot of fun. And best of all when you get to the bottom, everyone who went before you is waiting to see you.”\n\nBob hugged James and held him there gently. A soothing warmth spread throughout James, feelings of peace, comfort and joy enveloped him. On the wind James could hear his grandmother’s voice, just as he remembered from his childhood. \n\n“Your body is back in the truck James, but it is your spirit which has found its way here. Once you let go James, you will find spirits have no need for heavy coats like these.”\n\nBob helped James remove the thick, artic jacket from his body. He could barely move as he was overcome with joy and emotion, tears welled up in his eyes. The world around him felt warm, peaceful and serene. \n\nAt the edge of a forest an owl sat high up in a tree and watched the scene playing out in the frozen valley below. An 8 foot tall demon of ice and fang stood behind a man who disrobed before him. The demon spoke into the man’s ears while a look of peace and bliss covered his frostbitten face. The owl felt pity for the man, yet another soul lost to the Wendigo. "
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[WP] You love fighting this villian. Because even thought he has immense powers he's quite fun to actually battle, quite chill when you thwart his plans, and a bit incompetent when it comes to villiany. The problem is that now his mother is here.
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"Pencil-sharpener Man had put me through some real goose-chases over the years. One of the first time I faced him was when he had robbed a bank. At first I thought the commissioner was joking when he called me up to tell me someone had stolen all the pencils from a bank, but left the money. When I found the young new villain, he was back at his high-school giving out the pencils to his classmates before a test. Somehow nobody had made the connection between the kid that always had extra pencils and the kid that was robbing banks of their pencils. I figured I owed it to him (as a fellow caped crusader) to leave his identity a secret. He seemed like a nice guy.\n\nI couldn't have figured how someone who called himself pencil-sharpener man could have become a villain, but that was before he went all serial killer. It had been in all the papers a couple months back: \"Cops Draw Line Between Serial Murders and Local Pencil-Pusher\". After that a few other heroes and I found the guy's secret hideout and had a pretty intense battle with him.\n\n\"Look's like you're late for the test\", he would say, darting around the room, throwing pencils at us, pinning us against the wall by our capes. I remember Mime Girl almost caught him, since she wasn't wearing a cape, but just when she was about to tackle him from behind he jumped out of the way.\n\n\"Seems like it's time for... *A RACE!*\", he said, and within seconds he was gone, and had left each of us yanking the pencils out of the walls.\n\nWhen we finally got free though, we realized that his hideout held all his secret plans for super-sharp pencils, and throwing pencils, and titanium pencil sharpeners, and immovable pencils, even some sketches for a shaving-free pencil-sharpener. He had also left a note, in his usual impeccable handwriting:\n\n> If you're reading this, you've foiled my plans once again, fabulous four, and you deserve my congratulations. In respect for your victory I shall retire from villainy until... \n\n> one week before Christmas. While wearing a blouse,\n\n> I'll draw you a picture of a big, haunted house.\n\n> All the best,\n\n> Pencil-Sharpener Man\n\nTrampoline Man, the newest member if our crew, which we now called the fabulous five, took offense to the letter until he received an anonymous note apologizing for the mistake in pencil-sharpener man's usually impeccable handwriting.\n\nWe told the police, and nobody else, and waited until today. Today we each got another, similar letter, and as per the new letter's instructions, we went to meet Pencil-Sharpener Man at Mr. Tolstoy's abandoned mansion. Walrus Woman suggested that it might be a trap, but we collectively decided that that wouldn't be pencil-sharpener man's style.\n\nIt was a lovely day and the mansion seemed to actually be in quite good shape. Mr. Tolstoy's heir had actually been by just that morning, according to the neighbors, to clean the place up in case a potential buyer came by. It had to be tough to sell such a big house. As we approached the house we noticed some movement inside. There appeared to be a small group of people inside. We decided to split up to investigate\n\n\"I tell ya, the place is probably crawling with all the biggest villains\", Walrus Woman whispered as we crept around the side, peeking in the windows as we went.\n\n\"Oh come on, it's probably just him and a side-kick\", I said.\n\nSuddenly the front door opened. We rushed back just in time to see a small, normal-looking family saying thank-you's and goodbye's. They seemed completely unfazed by what had been inside As they got into their car they looked over at us. I gave an awkward smile and wave and they hurried away all the faster.\n\n\"What the heck was that?\", Question Man asked, to no answer. Suddenly from behind us, we heard a rustling. Right as I turned around there was a flash as though of lightning, and the sprinklers turned on. The door flung open and there stood Pencil-Sharpener Man himself.\n\n\"What had the family been doing in the house with Pencil-Sharpener Man? How had they survived? Were they also villains? Also, who's that lady coming around the corner\", Question Man narrated.\n\nWe all looked around the corner and there was a slightly older lady, maybe late 40's? She stopped and looked back at us. I gave an awkward smile and a wave and she returned with an awkward smile and a wave.\n\n\"Wait, where's Mr. Pencil-Sharpener gone??\", Walrus Woman asked.\n\n\"Mr. Pencil-Sharpener?!?\", the woman shrieked. \"I'll have you know that young man is responsible for 14 murders, 16 bank robberies, 3 counts of kidnapping, as well as of almost pouring LSD into the town's water supply! He's worked hard and deserves to be called by his true name: Pencil-Sharpener MAN!\"\n\n\"Oh, umm\", Walrus Woman stammered, \"so do you know him then?\"\n\n\"Yes I very much do know him. I've known him all his life. He's my son\", she said. Then turning to the house she shouted, \"and he'd sure better get out here quick and cream these caped weirdos\".\n\nThe sprinklers turned off and there was silence.\n\n\"Does he usually have trouble coming out?\", Walrus Woman asked.\n\n\"Oh no\", the lady said, still looking at the house, \"he's been very open about his sexuality for years. We're a very liberal household.\"\n\nThe five of us made awkward eye contact, but said nothing. The woman whom we now assumed to be the mother of our arch-nemesis was too focused on the house to pay us any attention. Suddenly she had begun storming her way into the house.\n\n\"Do you figure we should go in after her, or...\" Trampoline man asked.\n\nMime girl shook her head.\n\nWe waited and eventually the woman returned again, this time she was jabbering very quickly in Portuguese or something and apparently somewhat angrily at the head of Pencil-Sharpener Man, which she was holding by his ear. He was screaming a bit. It was weird to watch, but at the same time, hard to look away.\n\n\"Momma, I'm sorry, I can't do this--\", he said when she finally let him go.\n\n\"Stevie!\", His mom said to him, \"my beautiful beautiful stevie! We both know you're not my favorite kid, but seriously, I am so proud of you and your work. I believe in you now, Stevie. I know you can kill these weirdos. They're not even real super-heroes\"\n\n\"HEY--!\", Walrus woman piped up.\n\n\"No, mom, you don't get it. I'm not actually a super-villain, and I can't keep pretending I am to try and keep you happy.\"\n\nHis mom's jaw dropped. All of us stared at him, waiting for him to explain.\n\n\"Yeah, I know, 'suspected of serial pencil-related murder' and all that. It seriously wasn't me though. When I heard about the guy I knew everyone would think it was me, so I figured I'd have to track the guy down. I've been taking credit for other villain's work for years now. I just sneak in when I hear about it with my police scanner I found in a pawn shop. I take out the real villain, lock them in my dorm, then give them enough drinks that they don't remember exactly what happened, or at least that people won't believe them. Then I get my friend Vance to drive them to his farm and help him do various jobs in return for room and board. Then I run away from the cops and everyone thinks it's me.\"\n\n\"But Stevie, what about being a villain, like your dad?\", she asked.\n\n\"I don't want to be a villain. That's what got dad arrested, and then I never got to see him, and that sucks for a kid growing up. And for the hundredth time, don't call me that. When I wear the pencil suit, call me Pencil-Sharpener Man!\"\n\nHis mom looked intensely at him and he looked intensely back at her.\n\n\"Fine then. If you don't want to kill these nice people I will\", she said, marching toward us.\n\n...\n\nWe offered to come visit Stevie's mom in the hospital to say sorry again, but he told us not to bother. Also the cops are looking into the whole using villains as forced manual labor thing because that's actually pretty far from legal, so it turns out he might end up in jail after all, but we're all hoping the jury is lenient because they were terrorists and super-villains, and the farm system actually had pretty good security.\n\n***\n\nFeedback is appreciated! Prompt was cool, thanks!",
"The local university was holding a 'Christmas singles' party. Men and women gathered in the main room dressed thier finest in hopes of ridding the haunting face of the 'Forever Alone' meme.\n\n\"Starbright, you have a call.\" The earpiece of the young woman screeched abruptly. An interjection escaped her lips as a bit of champagne spilled over the rim of her glass onto the floor. Her friend grabbed her upper arm in an attempt to keep her from falling.\n\n\"What is wrong with you; how many have you had?\" Her friend asked with concern.\n\n\"Just this one,\" She handed the glass to her friend double talking, \"I have the night off from work, and I'm not leaving this party without a date. Why don't we try talking to someone?\" Her friend nodded in agreement, but the older man in the earpiece wasn't, \n\n\"Starbright, there is no such thing as a 'Night off'. Now head on over to Downy and Cedar.\" The girl huffed, then her voice went weak. \n\n\"I think I’m going to be sick. I need some air, I'll be right back.\" She bolted for the doors. Once outside, her posture straightened as her heels clinked along the pavement. \n\n\"Alright, I spent hours shopping for this perfect outfit to find the perfect guy only to once again end up with you. *sigh* Tell me who it is.\"\n\n\"You will always have me, Darling. Now, your opponent will be Inventanator.\" Her face perked up.\n\n\"That's great! I wont have to change, just need to wear my mask!\" She created a light disk, hopping on and riding through the night sky to Downy and Cedar.\n\nInventanator was a relativily new villian-ish. Ish because he is always building something totally not in good taste only to never actually work right. Machine ment to create a tornado, or killer robots, or turn things tiny- Never happens. Instead monologue, button press, fail, then he escapes and Starbright confiscate the bigbad machine.\n\nStarbright holds her dress down as she zooms across, looking down Downy street to see Inventanator stand at the intersection driving with what looked to be an RC car.\nInventanator could see the glow of Starbright's disk.\n\n\"Ah ha! I see you have finally come to stop me, Starbright. But not this time, I Inventa-!\"\n\n\"No!\" She shouted coming closer.\n\n\"No?!\" Inventanator responded confused, \"Starbright, you are suppose to let me finish first-\"\n\n\"Not tonight.\" She cut him off again, landing about 12 feet away. \"Honestly, you usually give me a good laugh, which is stress relieving in my line of work. And I appreciate that when you fail you just walk away instead of clinging to killing me in the moment, but tonight is the one night I don't want to deal with being a superhero.\"\nInventanator stared, blinking slowly and saying nothing.\n\n\"Inventanator... So can you call it a night?\" Starbright put one hand on her hip.\n\n\"Yeah...\" He said dejectedly. Dropping the controller, \"Go back to the party, I'll clean up.\"\n\nAn over joyous \"Thank you\" poured from Starbright, as a heated shrill screamed \"No!\" From behind Inventanator.\n\nA woman in her late fourties, dressed like a typical suburbian mom entered from the shadows.\n\n\"You are going to stick to the plan, young man!\"\n\n\"Your Mother?\" Starbright tried her best to hide her grin.\n\nInventanator shifted side-to-side, agony sweeping his face. \"Mom.\" He whispered annoyed.\n\n\"This has gone long enough, no need to be ashamed, you are just like your father,\" She patted his back before her eyes focussed on Starbright, \"Now you are going to listen to the end because this is the last time.\" Starbright nodded like a child being scolded, unsure why she was agreeing. \"Now tell her, see you at home.\" And his mother began walking away.\n\nInventanator balled his fists, shaking. His face turning red. Starbright put her hands up defensively, unknow how he would explode.\nInventanator took a deep breath,\n\n\"You're beautiful!\" He shouted breathy.\n\n\"What?\" She replied disorently.\n\n\"Don't talk, this is my monologue and I said you are beautiful.\" His fists relaxed. \n\n\"I wasn't expecting for you to arrive in heels and a dress, but no matter what you wear, even your suit, you look beautiful. I call you out so late to get the perfect view of your skin looking pale from the moonlight, and your lips dry from breeze rushing your way here. The first time I met you, you helped a little kid find his parents. You didn't use your powers, or wear a disguise. I couldn't help myself being intrigued by your soft heart. I tried to find information on you, but couldn't. And I gave up, but as fate would have it we ended up having a class together. I befriended you, and got to learn more about the amazing person you are inside. We would study with everyone, but you always snuck off. It wasn't until two months ago, when we were the last in the Library, that I found out you were Starbright. You tiredly slipped you were stressing about the villians at work. And since then I have been planning encounters for you to take it easy...\" He reached behind his head unbuckling his helmet, removing it. \"I over heard you talking about the Christmas Party. I called you tonight to see you fly over across the sky like my own personal shooting star to make a wish. Will you go out with me Rose?\" He stood there, his legs shaking slightly. \n\n\"Jake?\" She finally spitted out coming closer. \n\n\"You. Are. An. Idiot!\" His face dropped. She continued stepping closer. \"Why didn't you just tell me? Why go to the trouble of labeling your self a villian. It would have been a lot easier to just come out with it then make all these contraptions.\"\n\nHe stepped in, closing the gap between them and planting a hurridly kiss on her lips. She slapped him, stepping back, and pioting away from him. \n\n\"That was stupid Jake. This is all stupid.\" \n\nJake stared at her back, and even now couldn't help his feelings. She created another light disk. Stepping on, she looked over her shoulder at him. \n\n\"See you in class, you better have a date planned. Goodbye Inventanator.\" \n\nThough her mask was on, Jake thought he could see a brighter hue underneath, before her silhouette was encased around moon beams.\n\nJake's mom reappeared at his side, \n\n\"Told you being a 'villian' would intrigue a girl like her.\" His mother wrapped her arm around his back, patting it. \"Let's go home, son.\" Jake picked up the RC car and controller, walking away with his mother.\n\n\n\nIn the air, Starbright reported. \n\n\"Inventanator has been defeated, on my way back.\" The older man's tone took on amusement;\n\n\"Rose, that sounded an awful like he defeated *you*. But he still needs to get through me.\"\n\n\"Oh- shut up, Dad.\"\n\n\n(Edit: on my phone, looked like wall of text)",
"\\ Darren DuBrovnick, referred to as \"The silver cloud\", \"Smoking gun\" and \"snow ghost\" depending on the state of media hysteria, did not look like himself. From previous escapades, he is known to not be a particularly brutal villain. Not the kind to murder witnesses or cause rampant destruction, just a particularly elegant thief in his spare time. His power took some sleuthing to accurately pin down, simply because he used it in subtle ways. After sixteen years of intermittent interaction his powers seemed to be some sort of air temperature and pressure control, allowing him to affect weather in localized areas. Often a bank would simply fill with dense fog, and when it cleared out there would be three near-hypothermic guards and nothing left in the vault. he always seemed much more interested in pestering law enforcement and stealing money than commanding any kind of legitimate criminal empire. Now, there is a different kind of look on his finely-featured face than often crossed it when they would meet in a safehouse or outside a bank. None of the mad daring that often signified the powerful simply stretching their legs, just a kind of downtrodden fear. The lobby of the ESCPD *controlled substance disposal unit* is wide, nearly two stories high at the point where the iron-trimmed skylight crests. Marble columns of the same green-flecked grey as the floor line the distant walls, obscuring heavy iron doors and walnut benches that hug the edges. His black coat and suit is an inky pit in the pale light raining from above, washing out his pale pointed face. He stands in a pool of gently flowing fog, whispering with the telltale motion of his hands. Over a slight shoulder is hung briefcase on an improvised strap, dangling loosely below the folds of his coat.\n\n \n\n\"Darren! I'm not going to let you leave with that, don't test me on this.\"\n\n \n\n\"It isn't up to you this time, *Timbre*.\"\n\n \n\n\\ He does know her real name, but still treats it with respect even if she tries to shame him. He knows even the considered \"big shots\" of the Eastern Seaboard City criminal world shouldn't be here. And that case...She didn't know what he had taken but if it came from the Disposal unit it can't be good. Officer Ellen Green is worried, both about this young man and what he's stolen. Her hands twitch, held open and at her sides with the gentle suggestion of her power arching between her fingers. Faint vibrational tingles flare up her arms as the planes of her fingertips intersect with each twitch. She is between him and escape, and...she feels the sudden dive in pressure before she sees the whip of his arm and a blast of roiling white fog rocketing towards her. Touching thumb and forefinger together, she concentrates momentarily on the ringing of her exerted force. Lifting her arm up, she releases gently and a sonic pulse dissipates the fog as they meet. She sees him again, with a devilish smile and almost crouched in preparation to sprint. Then, she finds her feet have no purchase on the marble. Flailing on the sudden patch of ice, she launches an ill-aimed pulse his way. Coming down hard, she rolls to see the a huge bank of fog envelope her and the marble rain where her pulse missed and knocked a chunk from a column. Undeterred she places her hands flat to the floor and listens. The skitter of his shoes on the floor is as plain as day, and she forms a fist around a squirming sphere of sound. Rapping it on the polished marble, she redirects it to where his next footfall would land. \n\n \n\n\\ He cries out and falls heavily, bouncing ounce and rolling, case clattering loudly. Rising with he other fist tightly clenched, she forces more into the space between her fingers, her hand taught and practiced. Releasing, the room fills with a vibrant dissonance that blasts the specter of fog into memory. She walks carefully, watching his crumpled form come to all fours a few meters from the three sets of double doors leading outside. As he turns to lift himself up and wave his hand, Ellen whips her arm like a pitcher throwing a wicked slider and snaps her fingers at the end. The pulse hits Darren in the chest, just above where the strap hangs limply from his shoulder. the leather thong shreds suddenly and he his hurled backwards, rolling sliding between two columns. The sound is like the great crash of a queer cymbal, ringing their ears over his groans. He tries to rise and clutches desperately for the loose case. He looks at her, a terrified pleading in his eyes. He lifts himself to a crouch, and she shakes her head as he looks to the case just a meter from his grasp between the two demigods. His hands fly up and she snaps at him again, this motion stoping just in front of her. He was ready, and throws a great cushion of air behind him to stop him slamming the wall and kicks wildly in her direction. A blast of freezing air burns her face and knocks her off balance. Dazed, Ellen stands as he sprints to the case. There is a wild urgency to him as he slashes desperately at the air once again sending a curtain of frost sweeping towards her. She keeps her footing, covering her face and sliding back a few feet. That, she thinks, really is enough of this. Two bullets from her service handgun blast holes in the door he was reaching for and the marble in front of his feet.\n\n \n\n\"Please, Please don't make me do this. you know I have to, please *cloud*\"\n\n \n\n\\ The fear that was etched into Darren's face was not focused on the trembling pistol aimed at him. It was deeper, that he simply had to not be here right now. he twitched, winced, and suddenly went cold and limp. He gave a desperate, stammered apology that seemed incongruous as she marched to him. Her gun leapt from her hand, but not by the force of the gun. It was as if her hand had flicked to the side and gone limp, sending the pistol floating away where it bounced at slid under a bench. She watched her arm a moment, and cast a confused glance at Darren, who looked at the skylight with an empty defeated distance to his gaze. It had started to rain, heavy constant drops hammering the skylight. then it burst at the center, and a great torrent rushed down to the center of the hall a vast rushing water that in it's midst a woman floated. A vast spread of dark hair and a wild shredded dress gently swaying as if she was suspended, floating under an oceans surface. A bone-white arm groped with a ghostly slowness, and something seized her heart. A pale face glimmered with a terrifyingly evil smile from the gout of black hair as she felt the agency rush from her limbs. Ellen was paralyzed utterly. Then, she was flying, upwards towards one of the columns. Agency rushed back as she slammed into its unyielding mass, and felt her arm snap sharply and the air rush from her. she was falling, falling watching the woman gently traipse across the floor towards Darren from high, high above. Ellen was blank and empty, limp and tumbling. She swore she saw him reach, and felt her motion arrest a meter above the ground before slamming on the floor, gasping. She gave a feeble, wretchedly weak swipe at the strange, placid devil seeming to float to Darren unsupported. A spray of water danced unbidden from the pool formed by *her* arrival, springing eagerly to meet Ellen's sluggish attack, dissipating its already weak force. she did not look, but came before the pale, thin man,\n\n \n\n\"Pathetic. you've always been a spoiled, lazy, impulsive little brat. They told me all about your *useless* little escapades to keep your *sweetie* jar full, while I was left to *ROT*. Now, you're their fucking lap dog.\"\n\n \n\n\\ *Her* voice was high and freezing cold, full of an effortless vile malice, and Ellen could see *her* towering over his shrinking form. She snatched the case and opened it, face suddenly covered in an iridescent amber light. The glow revealed her horrible jagged grim in bas-relief, under a sharp nose and glimmering eyes, chunks of rough-cut Tanzanite that where a matched set with the now meek man cowering beneath her. She snapped her arm out and through the blaze of pain she felt the horrible cold of her power over her again. Ellen was then soaring up, slamming down. Over, and over, and over again against the marble, ribs crunching and skull rattling, her awareness diminishing into almost nothing with each horrifying crunch against the floor. Each time Darren called, begging, pleading, screaming at her to stop. Finally, just a dim sliver of light glimpsed from very far away, she felt the motion stop. That awful voice filled the room with shrieking anger, but she could not understand. it was so, so far. Ellen felt warmth, felt a strange wetness and a disconcerting lack of pain as she rested there slipping into the black.... ",
"It was how many of our battles went. We would fight for the city New York, and I'd defeat him. Keeping New York free of Rad-mans tyranny. \n\nYou might be asking why they call him Rad-man? You're likely thinking \"He must have radioactive powers!\" Well no! He likes to party. His goal is to turn New York into one giant party city, and that people's partying life style will be so self destructive that the city of New York will destroy itself! \n\nDudes so chill though, our battles mostly consist of drinking games. But I'm Liver Man! You see I drank radioactive vodka from Chernobyl. Now my liver is as strong one hundred livers! But I digress.\n\nToday's battle is flip cup in time Square. You can hear woman and children screaming in fear of Rad-man. But it's ok my fellow New Yorkers! Little do they know Rad-mans been trying keep up with my drinking. I'm drinking triple rum and cokes. His coordination is awful, and he can barely stand. I can feel a sense of pride saving New York once again... also heart burn.\n\nThat's when I heard in the most crustiest shrilish old woman's voice I've ever heard.\n\n \"Geoffery! What do yas think ya doing?! You're lucky I don't bea ur sorry ass with my wAlker!\" \n\n*takes breath from oxygen*\n\n\"Who are you yeah little shit?! You've been been makin my little Geoffery drink so much\"\n\nGet this! This old woman grabs me by my ear lobe and starts beating with I what assume is purse full of bricks. I mean what am I supposed to do! I'm an outstanding citizen, besides drinking in public, beat up an old lady? And that's why I'm hear on Reddit. She grounded Rad-man and I from hanging out for three months. She's not even my real grandmother, and I'm grown ass man! \n\n(Sorry for any spelling and grammar errors. English is my first language and I still don't understand it)\n\nEdit: I posted this earlier on the wrong WP.",
"Reality-Warping. Probably the most overpowered superpower there is. Anything you want, made possible at a whim. My super-strength is nothing compared to someone who can turn my muscles into Nilla Wafers with a thought.\n\nLuckily, the only supervillain I know with reality-warping powers is a 14-year old named Tommy. Tommy's actually not a bad dude. Just a little childish. The last time we clashed, he was trying to steal the grand prize in a tournament at the local arcade. Oh, did I mention he really likes video games?\n\nIn fact, that's what all our battles end up being. Real life video games. The first time we met, he created a world with goombas and koopas all over, and I had to be Mario in real life. Actually, quite fun. I wish more of my supervillains were this creative. FlameX, for example, is so unoriginal, that at this point, all I really need to take him down is a good fire extinguisher and some aloe vera. Talk about a one-trick pony.\n\nAnyways, Tommy's not a bad kid, and I'm beginning to suspect he does this more for attention than to be evil. Maybe he's a little hyperactive, but at the end of the day, I can't bring myself to take him to the authorities. No one ever gets hurt, and I get to have fun doing my job, and not worry about being killed.\n\n\"Mwahahahahahha, face me now, Vanguard!\"\n\n\"You'll never get away this SuperXTreme!\"\n\nPffftt...Did I mention his villain name is SuperXTreme? Talk about corny. 'Tommy has a long way to go' I thought to myself as the environment started to change into a blocky texture. Ooooh, is this Minecraft? Hell yea, I love that game. God, it's been so long since I've played. I think my account still has a diamon--\n\n\"TOMMY! GET OVER HERE! ARE YOU PLAYING YOUR FUCKING VIDEO GAMES AGAIN!\"\n\nSuddenly, Tommy's eyes widened in fear. This can't be good.\n\n\"Mom, I was just playing! I'll be done in a second, promise! I'm sorry!\"\n\nHuh. It must take a really scary person to make a reality-warper quiver in their boots.\n\n\"That's enough out of you young man! You've never amounted to anything! All these powers and all you can do is waste your time on these stupid games. You're a failure!\" Tommy's mom said, proceeding to strike Tommy in the face loudly.\n\nOh....things are starting to make sense now.\n\nTommy's eyes started to well up, and he started gagging, as if he was trying to choke back pain. Poor child.\n\n\"Get back home! I am personally going to make sure you never play these video games agai-\"\n\n\"Ahem.\"\n\nTommy's mom stopped, and slowly looked up. The side-effect of having super-strength is that you're a behemoth of a person. This is enough to intimidate almost anyone.\n\n\"You should leave.\"\n\n\"Sorry sir, I'll take my boy and go.\"\n\n\"No, the boy stays.\"\n\n\"But-\"\n\n\"AHEM\"\n\nTommy's mom ran off in a haste. Leaving her tear-ridden 14-year old behind. Coward.\n\n\"Hey, now, SuperXtreme, what's with all these tears. Supervillains don't cry. They laugh evilly!\"\n\n\"Sorry, Vanguard. I should go now.\" Tommy said dejectedly.\n\n\"Wait now, weren't we in the middle of something? Last time I checked, you were trying to steal the dogs from the pet shelter, weren't you? You're not going to give up, are you?\"\n\n\"....No sir. I guess I should try to fulfill my evil plan?\"\n\n\"You betcha Tomm..., I mean, SuperXTreme!\"\n\nTommy wiped some snot off his bruised face with his sleeve, and smiled and nodded in agreement.\n\nThe world then started to become blocky again, and I smiled to myself as I saw him starting to laugh again. I wish I could solve everyone's problems. I really do. But even if I do have super-strength, I can't just punch everyone's problems away. For now, all I can do is make one little boy laugh, and make him forget the home he has to go back to. This isn't over though. Tommy's mom is going to get her just desserts, and maybe if I mentor him just right, SuperXTreme will grow up to be a hero.\n\n"
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[WP] In the year 2076 the most popular movies are actually recordings of incredible dreams, and the dreamers who are able to dream the most fantastic dreams are rich and elevated in status. You are one of those dreamers, but suddenly your dreams become consistently boring...
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"I was on the first wave of the tech, barely. I came in when the playback machines had proven I/O and before time compression became the hit it is today. The recording tech had been in operation for ages, but it was all academic. Now it was just starting to pick up big-money sponsors. Just starting to look for talent. Just starting to really cash in.\n\nThe dream market has never been as easy as it was right then. Early on, you could be *anything* that stood out and you’d start getting attention. You just had to have any kind of theme. There are dreams everyone has. Anything that made you stand out from those did the trick. For instance, nobody loves the old academic anxiety dream, but the dreamer who had little else eventually started mining value out of little variations. He started remixing his dreams. He eventually made a \"perfect\" academic anxiety dream from bits and pieces of dreams that nobody ever wanted to pay him for. That was the one that really got him into the business. It was infamous, really. People bought it *once* at the dream-gallery and then they had it *every night* a week after. I hear he's still doing academic nightmares. He's dredged up half a dozen proteges from people with the right anxieties looping around in their subconscious, but none of them are showing any signs of breaking out of his shadow. Only so much market for academic nightmares, and too many people already generating their own content. That theme is getting played out.\n\nLot of themes are.\n\nFor a while, I thought I'd be immune. My theme wasn't about the content. I dream of all sorts of things. Great strange cities, alien invasions, military operations, mountain-climbing, forest hiking, even visions of Heaven and Hell, which sell well and would sell better if they weren't banned everywhere but Luna and Latvia. Not that it stops people from seeing them everywhere, but I don't see a penny where there's not a legal market.\n\nMy real specialty - my real theme - is length. My dreams feel like they take a long time start to finish. Their pacing is actually pretty slow for the content that sometimes ends up in them. I talk to the \"people\" in my dreams. We have conversations. We take long walks with rifles in our hands. We cut the chatter approaching the mission zone, we stalk through the brush, we get the drop on our first target, someone spots us, and then we've got hostiles on our flank and no way forward that doesn't involve charging someone with eyes on our position and a gun in their hands, too. Then we're three corpses into an enemy base with half our kit dropped in the ambush, short on ammo and ditching the surface objectives in favor of grenading the lifts and breaking in soft-side to the enemy’s hillside fortifications. Which turn out to be miles of rough-hewn tunnels, and presently clear of hostiles. Time enough for more talking scenes - and traps in the tunnels. There's a huge amount of content produced when I sleep, but sometimes it’s only a few minutes of content when you take out all the walking.\n\nHaving all that subjective time in an amount of objective time that fits in the real world... My brain learned some tricks. Powerful tricks, but the output didn't scan right. My early attempts at dream recording glitched the recording software, soaked great fix-it efforts on the part of developers who wanted to know where their bugs were, and then after all that work the result dulled test audiences to sleep. Most dreams are too packed to make sense of without editing. Mine were so sparse I was the only one who had the patience for them.\n\nI almost didn't get my toehold in the industry like that. It was just an editing problem, but it was *nobody's* editing problem. But then the time compression scripts came...\n\nWhen I did get going... Like I said, I thought I'd be immune to everything. The early time compression scripts were made for me specifically, and then the problem nobody else had became the tool nobody else had. Every quick genre clogged with schlock and here I was the pioneer of the *marathon* dream, the only source around for three day vacations you could have in two hours. A few patterns that had only ever ran on my brain started running on everyone's.\n\nThey'd buy one of my tapes at the dream gallery and start having long dreams all week. *Infamous.*\n",
"Sadie was having the kind of morning that left her groggily staring at the office coffee pot, trying to remember if she had already had one or two cups this morning. One cup, two cups… if she was still this out of it, what did it matter? Plus once she told her agent about her dream last night, she was surely going to be let go. And then she’d never have the opportunity to taste this shitty free coffee again. Better take advantage while she could.\n\nNo sooner had Sadie swallowed the first sip of coffee than her agent walked into the kitchen.\n\n“Sadie! Tell me you have some good news for me,” Jay said, entirely too cheery for this early in the work day. \n\n“Well,” Sadie began. “Not exactly.”\n\nJay’s over-whitened teeth disappeared as his smile abandoned his face in favor of a stern, straight line.\n\n“Not exactly,” he repeated slowly . It wasn’t clear if this was for his benefit or for her embarrassment. “I get the feeling that means ‘No.’ Come by my office before the 9:30 Writer’s meeting.”\n\n“Of course. I’ll just finish this and head right over.”\n\nJay didn’t even offer a fake “Great!” Just a single, solemn nod before leaving the kitchen. Sadie thought caffeine was the only cure for her mental fog, but it turns out that setting up a meeting to discuss your failures with an unhappy boss is way more efficient.\n\nA half hour later, Sadie found a better, more permanent, solution for morning grogginess at work: Stop working in the morning. Or, in her case, stop going to work completely. For one thing, this would allow her to avoid the situation entirely. For another, Jay was very clear that any attempt to get into any agency property would result in armed bodyguards escorting her out, since she was no longer a client of the J&D Agency.\n\nThat was the worst day of Sadie’s life. But over the course of the next five years, that superlative was awarded to days much darker.\n\nFor a while Firing Day held the title tightly. Then came the day she had to sell all but one car in order to keep her house. After that, Firing Day moved further and further down the list of what Judith Viorst would easily classify as Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad days.\n\nThere was the first birthday that her Dreamer “friends” decided Sadie was beneath them. Not one of them called or texted her to wish her a happy birthday. None deemed her worthy of having her party invite merely acknowledged, evident when they left the RSVP unanswered rather than sending a courteous decline. Although, one of them did have her assistant call to say that Marcy would not be able to attend, and would Sadie mail back the dress she had borrowed for last year’s Academy Awards? So thoughtful.\n\nThere was the day the temp agency warned that without a college degree, the work she qualified for wouldn’t bring in much money. The worst part was realizing that while she spent her days blowing the money earned in her sleep, she never considered there might come a time when she needed to be more than a dream machine. And now that that time had come, she didn’t have a single marketable skill.\n\nThere was the day she had to move out of her big, luxurious house and into a small apartment with cracking paint and broken windows. There was the day her first temp job decided not to extend her contract. The day that her car got wrecked, effectively limiting her transportation options to public or physical. The day she stopped dreaming completely. And of course, the day she stared at the 3 pack of ramen in her pantry, wondering how to make that last a week. That was the official Worst Day.\n\nThe funny thing about the official Worst Day, was that it was so exceptionally awful that it forced Sadie to decide. Did she want to find out what kind of day it would take to make this one tumble down to second place? She was doing nearly everything she could to get back to a stable place. But if she didn’t find another way, she *would* find out how much worse her situation could get. And she was sick of bad days, and terrible days, and fuck. She was tired of documenting all the times she thought to herself *Surely, it cannot get worse than this.* just to have to update the list a week later.\n\nNo. Enough was enough. \n\nSadie quit one of her three jobs. That time was reserved for night classes now. She moved into a shoebox apartment that made the old one with the cracked paint seem like a five star hotel. If she wanted to permanently leave this life behind, she’d need money. Every cent she saved on rent went right into her new savings account. An account she promised not to touch, even if that meant eating only rice for weeks straight.\n\nSlowly, the bad days became outnumbered by okay days. And Sadie could not be stopped. She had watched her life burn down to unrecognizable ashes. The fire that taken everything from her, sparked another in her heart.\n\n7 years later, Sadie recounted the official Worst Day to the group of eager listeners gathered at the local bookshop. She could feel their captivation growing as she continued reading the excerpt. Her memoir had reached #5 on the NY Best Sellers list, and her publisher anticipated that her second novel would debut at least that high.\n\nAs Sadie finished the excerpt and opened the floor for Q&A, an odd feeling settled over her. It felt foreign but warm, like a high school friend you haven’t seen since you graduated. She didn’t dwell on it, but it lingered throughout the session. The questions were beginning to die down, and the clock on the back wall said she had gone 15 minutes over the allotted time.\n\n“Any last questions?” Sadie asked the group. No hands raised at first. But then a young man in the front row timidly raised his. \n\n“Yes, you sir?” She prompted the reader.\n\n“You talk a lot about the Worst Days in your book… Do you have a Best Day?” The man asked. So earnest and simple. Yet, all Sadie had was silence. \n\nHer audience began trading glances amongst themselves, and someone in the back cleared their throat loudly.\n\n“I’m sorry,” Sadie began, with tears in her eyes. “I just… It just hit me that *this* is my Best Day.”\n\nWOOOP WOOOP WOOOP WOOOP\n\nSuddenly, an alarm angrily sounded throughout the bookstore. \n\nWOOOP WOOOP WOOOP WOOOP\n\nSadie looked around trying to determine where it was coming from, but no one else had so much as moved a muscle.\n\nWOOOP WOOOP WOOOP WOOOP\n\nIt almost sounded like… her alarm. Sadie’s eyes flew open as she finally placed the sound. She pulled her phone out from under her pillow, tapping the “Stop” button reflexively. A few texts waited onscreen for her attention but those would have to wait. A few taps later and she was greeted by Jay’s voice.\n\n“Sadie! My favorite Dreamer. What’s got you calling so early?” Jay greeted her.\n\n“Jay, you’ll never believe the dream I had. I think it’s our next blockbuster…”\n",
"A strange paradox, the modern entertainment industry. People go in with aspirations. They go in with dreams. And it is often the new, young talent that hits the cinemas the best. Their wild imagination takes the world by storm, and for a while, they feel like nothing can bring them down. I was their once, all my dreams come true.\n\nBut life gets to you, and Hollywood is no cakewalk. I got tired fast, my dreams fulfilled and with nowhere left to go I turned to the party animal lifestyle that captivates so many young winners. My talent slipped, my dreams became more stale. Alcoholism certainly showed in my unconscious state, and the suits weren’t having any of it. My situation wasn’t unusual.\n\nBut when a person hits this point, when the thing they have been able to count on to bring them this far begins to slip from their fingers, they are faced with a choice. Most are content to let it go, enjoy the money and nostalgia and die an early death with so few crying for them. Others, like myself, refuse to watch all they have built topple like a badly built house of cards. They turn to LSD-H.\n\nThere’s a specific genre for LSD-H dreams. Not a genre the public are aware of, mind you, but a perceptive eye can certainly tell when a dream is enhanced. LSD-H is not as vivid as normal LSD, but it will give your dreams a touch of surreality that most dreams can’t hope to have.\n\nOf course, the light that burns twice as bright burns out twice as fast. LSD-H deaths are far too common in Hollywood, but still the public chooses to turn a blind eye to the drug as long as it produces the surreal picture they wish for. I OD’ed in my forties. The world thought that was the end for me, that I’d just become another addition to the pool of blood on the red carpet.\n\nI survived. I was the first to survive an overdose of the drug. No media fuss was made, and I kept my mouth shut - I was grateful to be alive, in the end. Being on death’s doorstep changes a man’s perspective of the world, and I swore that night I would never touch drugs or alcohol again. And I never have.\n\nThere were certainly high hopes for my return; it was hoped my experience would bring a new perspective. But my dreams were stale, bland. I was cast aside like a used match, another burnt out star. The second fall from grace has hit me hard, and severely depressive phases have followed.\n\nThe world thinks they’ve seen the last of the vivid dreamer I once was. But my sadness has fuelled dreams I couldn’t have... well... dreamed of producing. A new genre has emerged from my own mind.\n\nMy flame hasn’t run out of fuel yet.",
"I had the same dream again last night... Upon waking I remembered with regret how, instead of my usual flight of fancy, I was dreaming about a peaceful library and myself curled up by the fire, laughing softly. Nothing fantastical, no mermaids, or soaring escapades through the sky. No epic battles with my arch-nemesis, nor was there any great love story to write home about. Nothing of the usual. The norm for me. \n\nI was born to do this. To close my eyes and lead millions of followers into great escapes from their humdrum lives. I've fought dragons, dived millions of miles under the sea, crashed planes and trains and cars into bars. I've dreamt in black and white with sing-alongs and I've dreamt in brilliant Technicolor. I've had grizzly nightmares of baby eating machines that chomp and slash, hack and mince, all through clear plexiglass panes you can watch through. I've had amazing dreams I woke from in tears, desperate to get back to, knowing life, real life, could never be so sweet and so soft, so tender. \n\nReal life can never compare to the dazzling complexities I live when I close my eyes. Real life pales in comparison to the worlds I create each night when my breathing evens, and my heartbeat stills to a slow, and I enter REM. Real life only has the millions of people who Wish to live in the universes I create when I dream. They wish and they pay and I profit greatly. I am The creator of dreams in this world, and loved for it.\n\nBut now I'm worried...its been seven nights of the same dream. Calm, centered, warm. A dream where I drink in the languidness of the large library, sigh in contentness..pacified in peace. I cannot stand for this! Something has come over my psychie, corrupted it, mellowed it. Something must be done! \n\nOr my world, where I live quite lavishly will evaporate, like dust in time...and like an animal hunted to extinction, I will become irreverent. This will not stand. \n\nThese are my thoughts as I pick up the gun. Something must be done. "
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[WP] A powerful new narcotic has hit the streets. It produces addictive bouts of deep introspection and personal self-improvement. As such, it has made an enemy out of every industry reliant on human insecurity to sell its product.
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"\"Gentlemen. As I am sure you are all aware, we stare today down the barrel of an unprecedented danger. A danger that threatens to destroy us all.\"\n\nThe men shifted uncomfortably in their chairs and listened in silence as the general spoke. \n\n\"It stops. TODAY!\" he screamed, fists crashing down on the table as a globule of saliva fell from his mouth. \n\n\"Forgive me,\" he said, his voice suddenly quiet and measured. Menacing. \n\n\"Now, understand this. If we are to stand a chance in this brave new world, actions must be taken. We must prevent the use of this... this fucking... this fucking PLANT... from becoming a social norm. We will paint both it and those who use it as villains. As degenerates. We will confiscate it from those who use it, and we will destroy them. We will deliver them to the just arms of the law with swift vengeance. Gentlemen. Believe me when I say this. We. will. eviscerate it. Make it disappear from the face of the fucking planet.\"\n\nHe straightened his tie and glared around the room. \n\n\"As of today, smoking marijuana will be a federal crime. Let it be done.\"",
"I'm quite late to the prompt with this one, although it was an interesting prompt anyway, so for those whom might be reading, please enjoy, and leave feedback!\n\n\nIt was a bleak, tiresome day of filing reports, Nothing short of ordinary, however. I should quit this job for something I actually enjoy. Ha - yeah right. I know that I promise myself every morning that today is the day. Today is the day that I don't. But that never seems to be a kept promise. There's just something so magical about it. Where would I be without it?\n\nAs I fiddle with the keys with my numb, desperate hands trying to grasp the one with the little blue mark of nail-polish on it to signify the front door key, I think about my seemingly 'successful' life. Without it, I would probably be homeless, or - at the very least - in a flat on the east side of town, where a robbery occurs every other minute. But for some reason, life has never seemed, well... Wholesome to me. For 23 years now, my entire journey has been dictated by a substance - a mere chemical, designed in some laboratory by another ignorant, naive human. I know damn well that I would never be able to achieve this, everything around me is the product of something else. I know that, yes, I am physically real, so why don't I feel real?\n\nI laugh to myself as I turn the key in the slightly rusted lock. It's stuck again. Fucking hell, this lock has given me problems ever since I moved in. I really should get it replaced. But I know all too well that that's just another empty promise to myself, another item on the list of ever-growing problems that always come second to 'it'. No time for that now, I think to myself. In fact, there's no time for anything now. No time for remembering the promise, no time for her, no time for myself. Now is dedicated to it. As I step through the door and clumsily chuck the keys in the pot next to the phone, I look around. \"Where would I be without it?\" I ask myself, for the thousandth time. It's almost humorous how I can convince myself that I need it every evening. I know I don't, but it's easier to believe that I do.\n\nI perform a large sigh, exhaling stale air from earlier this morning, and make my way towards the bedroom. I open the drawer next to my bed, and open the little blue wedding ring box that I've kept it in for three years now - since she left. Rather fitting, I think to myself, that I keep it inside the thing that I resent it most for destroying. Whatever - it's a good hiding place I suppose. No time for regret now, only time for it.\n\nI take out the little bag of powder. It was white, with a subtle purple tint to it. Most wouldn't notice that though, I guess you could say I have a lot of familiarity with it. I weigh out 15mg on the scales - three times the standard dose; but I need this much to feel anything anymore. I unwrap the needle. I used to be terrified of those things, up until I stopped associating them with pain and started associating them with pleasure. I put the powder on the spoon, coupled with a few drops of water, held the lighter to the spoon, and waited for a minute, staring mesmerisingly at the dancing flame. Well, it's time. The needle greedily gulps up the mixture, as if it's as hooked on it as I am. I stare at my arm, and with a sense of wholesome excitement, I carefully plunge the sharp metal intruder into my bulging vein, and press down with an overwhelming impatience.\n\nI see the colours of my flat start to saturate around me, and my thoughts suddenly become clear to me. I've returned home once more. I'll quit tomorrow, I promise myself, as I let it take hold of me one last time.\n\n I'll quit tomorrow.",
"He stared out the windows of his office and saw the rain pounding down on the lush green trees. White walls adorned the office, accented with steel. the antique mahogany desk sat like a lion taking a nap in the centre of the office, and the speaker placed on top spoke with a shrill tone.\n\n\"Markus, they want to speak to you.\", the woman over the speaker said. \n\nHe sauntered over to his leather chair and sighed. He picked up the receive and mumbled, \"Thank you Helen.\".\n\nAs the words entered his ear like worms burrowing through earth, his eyes went wider, and his jaw slacked open, and the hair on his neck stood straight up. \n\n\"Yes sir.\"\n\n\"Alright sir.\"\n\n\"ARE YOU FOR FUCKING REAL SIR!?\"\n\nHe hung up the phone, and pushed away from his desk. He couldn't believe it. His board just told him that Slipstream is now mainstream, and is about to change the world. Apparently Slipstream is an inhaler that gives someone all the motivation and discipline they need to improve their lives in every aspect.\n\nEvery child that doesn't do well at school will no longer exist.\n\nJunkies that fucked up their lives can now get addicted to this and turn into a productive member of society. \n\nLazy children that do nothing around the house will now find a purpose and help those around them.\n\nIt was horrendous. There had to be a way to weaponise it. A way to ensure that it can be used for corporate interests. But he was told that it was independently developed so that nobody can ever modify the chemicals.\n\nFuck.\n\nTapping his feet, and twisting a pen around his fingers, he thought. and thought. and when he could no longer think, he picked up the phone.\n\n\"Get Horace on the line please.\"\n\n\"Certainly sir.\"\n\nHe leaned back on his chair and almost went unconscious from dizzyness. He was starting to get worried with all the implications of this new drug.\n\n\"What can I do for you Sonny?\", Horace answered, sounding like he just woke up from a deep slumber.\n\n\"Horace. Have you ever. Heard. Of. SLIPSTREAM?\", Markus said.\n\n\n\"What in gods name is that?\", Horace replied, suddenly sounding more awaky.\n\"Apparently we're all fucked Horace.\",Markus said, standing up and pacing around the room, cord wrapping it self around his elbow, \"We are going to be absolutely fucked. You know all of the subsidiaries that we picked up? They're no longer going to make any money. No more Cosmopolitan, no more reality television, no more useless websites that we waste people's time with. We are absolutely fucked.\"\n\n\n\"Hold on sonny, what the hell are you talking about now?\", Horace said.\n\n\"Slipstream is a drug that injected will make that person focus and become a better person. They will have motivation and ambition and discipline, and we will have no income anymore as a result of this.\" Markus said, legs trembling as he sat back down to gain recomposure.\n\n\"Are you saying that they will actually use the Gym memberships? Are you saying that we will have to actually purchase more equipment?\", said Horace.\n\n\"Exactly sir. And because you own planetfitness, I know you don't want to, so I am giving you a fair warning. We are absolutely fucked and there is nothing we can do. I have to go now.\", Markus hung up the phone before a reply was heard.\n\nHe looked around the room. Sparse photos adorned the walls that gave him memories that felt fake now. His rather large office felt more like a prison, the walls physically moving in on him. The door stood like a guard, telling him he would never be able to leave. He started breathing shallow. His pulse heightened and sweat stained his ten thousand dollar suit. His mind would not stop racing and neither would his heart. He hastily took his rolex off and his suit jacket, and unbuttoned his shirt. He looked at the windows and they appeared to be taunting him, telling him that he could never leave. \n\nNot that it mattered. He didn't want to leave now. He didn't want a world where his friends are unable to make money off the laziness of the many. The sheeple they called them as they ate and drank expensive wine and caviar at the expense of the so called sheeple, never tipping.\n\nIt was all over. The sheeple would join the ranks, and his sense of elitism would be over. He didn't want to witness it.\n\nHe stood up and walked towards the window. Glass. 4 feet tall. Rain. Never ending downpour. He felt like a raindrop, where mere moments before he felt a god. He thought about dropping down the stories below and feel exactly what a raindrop, no a sheeple would feel like.\n\nHe grabbed a vase and tossed it towards the window. It smashed and the wind poured in, filling his nostrils with his next decision. He hopped up to the sill and stared the depths below, wondering what the world was going to be like.\n\n\"I don't want to know.\"\n\nHe jumped.",
"It’s an easy job for the most part. The thing about the thinkers is that tend to congregate. For a group that’s so bloody enlightened, they sure do crave each other. I guess snakes do the same thing in winter. We just put someone on the inside, wait a bit, and then strike when they get together. We like to hit at one of the “clubs” as they call them. A “club” is when they all get together and trade their wares. The drug of thought, the opiate of the intelligentsia.\n\tI remember my first collar. I was a really cold November day, crisp. The Sergeant got us together in the morning. As the new guy I was just going to watch the perimeter. We kitted up in the black leather vests and helmets each christened with the bright silver crest of the Order Police. We rode to the scene in our beetle cars. They glistened against the streetlights. I hopped out and got put on watching a rear alley. No action I thought. Then as they raided the spot this girls comes popping out the back door. Young thing, jean jacket. Up over a few trashcans for both of us and she’s on the ground. No real drama to it. Then it’s time for the evidence collection. So we state off what we find to the Sergeant.\n\nTwo copies Paine, one copy Marx, four different Shakespeare, one copy Hemingway, two copies Asimov, two copies Bradbury, one copy Orwell, and a copy of Huxley .\n",
"\"Has anything changed? How are the trends looking?\" Mark asked.\n\n\"Sorry Mr. Zuckerburg, things continue downhill for the 4th week in a row.\"\n\nMark let out a sigh. He looked sternly at the board members that sat at the round table. \"Suggestions, anyone?\"\n\nAfter a momentary silence, one of the members spoke up. \"I understand why we cut off the partnerships with Calvin Klein, Versace, Corvette, and our other lavishly branded advertisers, but have we considered this? How about appealing to these 'woke' users through ads they can relate to rather than targeting their insecurities? You know, like, I don't want to be the one to say it but ads that show more average people. Wipe away the six packs, toss out those Eastern European girls—go for the kid next door look. Any brand with that vibe of marketing could get our profits going again.\"\n\n\"Listen, Sam, if they're not using the product then we can't call them users. It doesn't matter what we advertise at this point as we dont have these 'users' to lay their eyes on anything,\" Mark responded.\n\n\"Calvin Klein themselves aren't doing too well, Sam,\" chimed in another board member. \"Any glamour or glitzy industry is tanking at unprecedented rates.\"\n\nA look of frustration was growing on Mark's face. \"It's not just our ads that aren't performing well. It's our entire platform. We were built off of the behavioral patterns of comparison and the seeking of validation from the masses. As people move in a new direction, our entire product has to as well. It's the state of social media in general. I got off the phone with Evan down in LA earlier, he mentioned the same flops for Snapchat. I hear Twitter isn't doing too well either.\"\n\n\"It's a narcotic, really. The introspective trances it puts people in, the desire for their betterment.\" Another board member had stood up as if in position to give a soliloquy.\n\n\"Who would've thought putting Prophets of Rage on the radio would have such an effect on people?\" Mark asked himself aloud.",
"The cold was biting. Her cheeks burned with that sandpaper-chill common to these early February mornings.\n\nShe tucked her hands in her coat pockets, shoulders raised — as if that would protect her from the wind — and trudged over to the auto-car waiting for her on the corner. \n\nInside its soft, warm, machine-clean interior, she relaxed a little bit. It purred lightly as it shuttled her through the gray streets.\n\nShe glanced at her department-issued mobile, flicking it into mirror mode to have a quick look. Her sullen eyes made her wince but she was too tired to care. \n\nThe door opened with a quiet mechanical softness in the underground entrance to city hall. \n\nArriving on the 23rd floor for the press conference, her partner was standing against the wall, nursing some kind of hot beverage from the fashionable shop in the lobby.\n\n\"Jesus Carla, you look like shit.\"\n\n\"Keep it down Will, I'm not in the mood.\"\n\n\"I'm always in the mood.\" \n\nHer stare must have conveyed her words as strongly as she felt them and he glanced down at the rim of his take-away cup, fidgeting with the top.\n\n\"Well, let's get this over with.\"\n\n---\n\nThe mayor was her usual dull-in-that-fake-happy-way that mayors seem to become while celebrating something no one else really cared to celebrate. \n\nWhen the Mindfull epidemic began to explode, almost overnight, it had sent shockwaves through the halls of power. Every day, in cities and towns across the world, press conferences like these took place.\n\nAlmost overnight, Mindfull tanked sales in the health and beauty sector; the same for most of the entertainment sector. Probably the worst hit, was the fashion industry. \n\nUsers litterally just stopped caring - and that was a problem for markets that relied very much of making people care. While the mysterious new drug wasn't fashionable at the outset, the scenes prone to drug use in general weren't affraid to take a test drive. Little did they know it would affect their industries the most. Mindfull turn hip, well, on its head.\n\nCorporate lobyists, their clients the first to feel the financial \"burden\" of this new addiction, put a unparalleled effort into their purchase of political mindshare.\n\nThe crackdown was swift. Legislation was brutal. \n\nAs the head of narcotics, Carla was part of system bestowed the authority to push against the wave of drug use washing over humanity. \n\nSo here they were. Standing in a cold room, on a cold day, gathered around a small collection of Mindfull which Carla's officers had gathered in recent street sweep. \n\nSo it went. The mayor's mouth flapped. The live holostream lights flickered. Golf claps. Handshakes. \n\nWhen the mayor pointed at Carla during the stream, touting a much-inflated street value for the cache, Carla began to feel the stress squeeze into her. The lights felt like an ocean of suns burning her tired eyes, frazzled hair, and highlighting the scar on her chin that surely was, at least partly, responsible for the lack of companionship in her life. She couldn't remember if she'd even brushed her teeth this morning. Her hands shook lightly, but she held them out of sight behind her. Sweat dripped down the small of her back.\n\nBy the end, she could no longer focus on what the dignitaries around her were mumbling. The words floated in the air like blurry clouds in undecipherable shapes. She thought she vaguely heard the Police super-intendant mention \"promotion\" but couldn't quite make out the context.\n\nAs her heart-rate continued to elevate she feared she'd make a fool of herself. She excused herself and quickly made an exit to the nearest washroom, increasing her pace in tandem with the growing panic in her gut. \n\nNearly running, she opened the door and found the nearest tiled wall. Slamming her back against it, she tried to regain her breath. \n\n\"Carla? Carla? Are you.... honey what's wrong?\"\n\nHer eyes had been closed and in her panic she hadn't checked to see who else might be occupying the washroom.\n\nShe cracked an eyelid and cringed.\n\n\"Mayor....\" \n\nThe mayor cut her off and rolled her eyes. \"Jeanne, come on now, no cameras in here.\"\n\n\"Jeanne...\"\n\n\"Do you know what I did last night Carla?\" she asked excitedly.\n\nHer heart was racing again. \n\n\"I read Stephen Hawkings paper on Information Loss in Black Holes and spent the rest of the evening trying to follow the breath. I failed repeatedly, but it was wonderful.\" She let that last word sing out, in a style reminiscent of a day well spent at the beach. This from someone who just finished a hard-nosed, anti-drug PR event.\n\nThe mayor was looking at Carla warmly, blinking nonchalantly. Carla swallowed hard, knowing this was only going to go in one of two possible ways. \n\n\"How about you?\"\n\n\"I.... uh....\"\n\nShe was sweating. \n\nShe was too tired to pretend. \"Well, I, uh, I started working on Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition for piano.\"\n\n\"Oh my,\" now with the tone of happy grandmother, \"that sounds just incredible.\"\n\nThe mayor opened her handbag as she approached the head of the narcotics division. She pulled something out of her purse and thrust it towards Carla with an outstretched palm. \n\nTwo ways? Strike that. It gone a third way.\n\nIt was a little white square tablet with the triangle cut-out at the top - vaguely reminiscent of the letter \"M\".\n\n\"Come-down's a bitch isn't it.\"\n",
"The Do-right hit me quite hard. So hard, in fact, that I shut off the television, and lay on my floor. What was the point of a chair anyway? The floor wasn't that uncomfortable. I subconsciously reached up, and wiped the makeup from my face, feeling freed from a prison as I removed my mask. The drug, while powerful and expensive, was highly sought after. I had made my fortune years ago in stocks, and after selling it all to retire a secret billionaire, I resented my quiet life. After I had discovered Do-right though, it changed. I was no longer lonely and sad, I had no craving for unnecessary friendship or silly items. Do-right had given me the confidence to live the life I wanted to. In fact, the worst part of my life then was when I wasn't on Do-right.\n\nI stood, and made my way to the kitchen. I opened my refrigerator, and retrieved a salad, my new favorite food. After all, what is taste but a lie your tongue tells your mouth? If its good for me, who cares how my tongue feels?\n\nI sat at my table, and began to eat, savoring each chilly bite of lettuce. The glass of water next to me sat, lukewarm, but as a nice contrast to the vegetable. The only sense Do-right affected was sense of health. And I was the healthiest I had ever been in my life.\n\nI heard a crash outside my window. I stood up quickly, considering my options. I knew I had to hide, and I slinked my way to the closet. But on my way there, a hand reached from the dark, clamped my mouth and shoved me against a wall, smelling of perfume.\n\nMy muffled screaming only served to anger the hand's owner, and a slap to the face caused me to stop.\n\n\"These old bitches,\" he said, \"they think this shit is ok to have.\"\n\nI was puzzled, until another man entered my view, smelling strongly of rosebuds. The mystery was solved, and I knew instantly: they were perfume salesman.\n\n\"I can't believe this is who's taking all our business,\" the man holding me said, \"she can barely move. How does she convince people of this?\"\n\n\"Hell if I know,\" the man in front said, \"it's not like she's gonna matter in a minute or two.\"\n\nThis terrified me, and I began to shriek again. The man in front approached slowly.\n\n\"I'm gonna get my friend here to remove his hand. I'm letting you know now, if you make a single sound I'll slit your throat real quick. Got it?\"\n\nI assume my eyes said yes, because he motioned, and my mouth was uncovered.\n\n\"Now listen here, and listen closely. Where'd you get that Do-right?\"\n\nHe peered into my eyes, his young, chiseled face exactly what one would expect from a sleazy salesman. At my silence, he shrugged. He quickly flicked his wrist, and a knife appeared, blade glinting in the dim light.\n\n\"We can just kill you and find someone else, no skin off my back.\"\n\nI whimpered, and a tear rolled down my face. He chuckled and shook his head.\n\n\"She's losing it. Let's just cut her off and move on to the next.\"\n\nI shook my head violently, a last ditch attempt, and man behind me loosened his grip. I turned, and threw some powder into his mouth, then turning, did the same to the other before he could react. The man behind me stumbled into the wall, and fell over, knocking my pottery down on the way. The man in front just lost balance, then regained it.\n\n\"You're gonna regret... *whoa*.\"\n\nI could see it hit him. He stopped, and looked at his gloved hands.\n\n\"Oh my God. I'm so sorry miss. I... I don't know what I was doing.\"\n\n\"It's ok deary,\" I smiled, \"everyone thinks that before it hits them.\" His partner stood up, but said nothing. A tear rolled down his cheek.\n\n\"I... I gotta call someone.\"\n\nHe ran off, accompanied by a muted wailing through his hands. His partner stared blankly at me.\n\n\"I've been blind my whole life. My God I've wasted twenty five years of my life, oh my God!\" he wailed.\n\n\"Listen here,\" I said, \"Do-right will help you find your way.\" I reached into my pocket, and placed some loose powder in his hand. \"Take this. You need it more than I do. I'm an old woman, I've done all I can. You can fix your life.\"\n\n\"Thank you so much,\" he said, and he kissed my forehead tenderly, \"I'll come back sometime, I owe you for the pottery.\" He pointed sadly at the shards on the ground.\n\n\"It's ok,\" I said, \"just make sure you use wisely.\"\n\nHe thanked me one more time, and left my house, returning me to my state of solemn introspection. I noticed a rose smell about my house for a week afterwards. I didn't care about how it smelled either way, but it didn't mean I couldn't appreciate the memory behind it.\n\nLater, he returned to my home. He told me of how he had quit the job, and he was returning to college to get a degree in creative writing, his passion. I wasn't surprised, the Do-right was making him do right by himself. To this day, we have a weekly chat over coffee, he supplies me with stories, I supply him with Do-right.\n\nAnd whenever I see someone selling makeup, or perfume, or crying in the bathroom, or broadcasting their insecurities, I just blow a little of my fairy dust into their face, and watch their lives change. And while you might not like my methods, I am doing right. Every time is another step towards a greater humanity. Another person out and about, doing right."
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[WP]You arrive at work and it is surrounded by thick fog.
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"    “I wouldn’t be telling you this story if it wasn’t supposed to be foggy, Jeffrey. It’s Oregon and if it isn’t foggy in the winter, it’s raining, or both.” I have a good relationship with my grandson, but sometimes, these kids think old folks aren’t sarcastic or witty because they can’t think quickly enough. Jeffrey, my seventeen-year-old grandson, can neither dish it nor take it like half of my compatriots here at Golden Acres. “Now, I’d thought, when I moved from Southern California to the middle of Oregon it’d get cooler, but no. Seventy-five to one-hundred and five after traveling a thousand miles north. Anyway, after screwing around a bunch, like you, no doubt, will spend several years doing, I started teaching at your high school. It looked a lot different back then; this was before the Great Backlash of ‘18, so the school was half as well funded as it is today. \n \n    “We had to show up two weeks before students do, and it was a warm one, still in August, still burning pitch cast from the angry sun at your old Pampa here. Now, being my first year, I thought the fog was some maintenance issue, or some oddity of northwest weather I wasn’t familiar with. So, I got my briefcase, went in, and as I traveled deeper into the fog, certain buildings became more and more transparent, others started appearing. My room wasn’t where I’d left it, the science teachers were in the old wing, it all didn’t make sense, and that was just the school itself.” \n \n    “Dad’s told me about this story before,” Jeffrey said. He hasn’t quite learned how much people like to tell the same stories over and over. “All the teachers were different, no—” he looked around, at the sleeping supercentenarians, “minorities. The yearbook you found showed you the inaugural class of MBHS - also no minorities - and you realized you had been transported to like, 1950 or something.” It’s an awkward time, right now, when certain words are on the way out, but the words coming in sound awkward for completely different reasons. \n \n    “Yes, you’re very smart. Shut up.” I chuckled a little, thinking of an old movie. Jeffrey was clueless in more ways than one. “I went straight to the principal. I was convinced it was all a scam, that they were all actors and I was the new guy, getting pranked. An elaborate prank, to be sure, considering how getting the fog into all the hallways would have been hard enough, much less getting the new science building to disappear. He wasn’t of much help. He recognized me as the new shop teacher, which didn’t make sense considering I teach English, but that was the least of my worries. It wasn’t until I left his office that I saw the flash in the corner of my eye.” \n \n    Jeffrey shifted in his suspensor chair, obviously impatient. His father has done one thing well - he’s managed to teach Jeffrey not to have his neural implants on during conversations, looking at cat pictures or whatever, despite his boredom. “The aliens, exactly like the aliens you’d have seen in movies from the actual 1950s — little, green, big heads, almond-shaped eyes.” \n \n    I admonished him for interrupting me again. “You’re skipping ahead. I didn’t see one in full until later. I didn’t know what else to do, so I took the opportunity to look around the school. That’s when I started noticing problems with it all.” \n \n    “The segregated bathrooms, drinking fountains, stuff like that. I can’t believe stuff used to be like that.” \n \n    “Places used to be like that, before I was born, but that wasn’t the case here, though. The school had never been built with segregated anything, and many years later I looked in the records in the district’s storage and saw there were non-whites on the staff, albeit entirely janitorial.” Oregon wasn’t the mostly progressive place it is today. “The yearbooks wouldn’t have them, but would have had the teaching staff, as well as the administration. When one of the little green guys, call themselves Gammans, confronted me on the basketball court in the north gym, he told me what was up.” \n \n    My grandson didn’t roll his eyes too much. I continued. “He had what looked like a little silver gun in one hand, a blue pill in the other. I took the pill he offered me, looking at the gun and thinking I had no choice. A few seconds later, I recognized the gun as an injector; they use it on themselves, in conjunction with the fog to be able to exist on this plane, in this environment. He shot himself with it a few times. The pill, he explained, was a concentrated set of memories they’d pulled from their own minds, containing their language and little bits of information about them, their history, and culture. \n \n    “‘We recreated this school,’ he’d said, ‘from memories, from books, from your internet, as best we could. We tried making these—” he pulled another pill from his belt “—out of memories of people we borrowed from your planet, but it didn’t work out so well.’ I’m paraphrasing here; his...it’s?...language is a lot more about implication, everything is sort of implied and you wouldn’t really get it if you don’t get the pill. ‘It is less successful, as I can tell you realize, than we hoped, but it’s the best way for us to learn,’ he’d said. ‘We don’t have the physical diversity you humans have. One great point of interest is how you have treated each other over physical differences. The closest we have is an intellectual classicism.’ He didn’t explain further, and I didn’t press him. \n \n    “You know, you could say ‘it,’ Pampa. I know it used to be rude, but it’s the more polite term nowadays.” \n \n    I knew he was right as soon as he spoke, but it still feels awkward. It isn’t what I grew up with. Besides, we’re talking about an alien, not a human. \n \n    “Alright Jeffrey. It told me about the different ways Gammans have been trying to learn about humans, despite the difference in learning styles. They rarely have to communicate things they learn; they can easily produce pills, copy it to their computer networks, which can then reproduce the pills to anyone wishing to learn the experience. When they tried it with humans, they get mostly the history we create in our heads, not actual memories. You know how, when we remember something, we’re actually remembering the last time we remembered it? Well, that’s what they get. We make assumptions or fantasies and put those in our memories, and they made pills out of them. This fog thing they did at the school was them trying to figure out why their pills weren’t matching up with so much of we wrote down.” \n \n    “Why didn’t he beam you up or whatever? How come he didn’t abduct you like all those other people that see little green men?” \n \n    “I’d imagine it was because they realized they wouldn’t get anything particularly useful out of me, as their pill process doesn’t work very well with humans. Yet. Anyway, I wandered around, they disappeared eventually, along with the fog, and I found myself in a janitorial closet in the science building.” \n \n    Jeffrey perked up. I could tell his implants were telling him his father or friends were calling him. Or he just realized the story was coming to an end. “Thank you for coming to see me, Jeffrey. Tell your father and mother to come see me too.” \n \n    “Oh, they were watching.” He casually pointed to his eyes. “I told you that when I got here.” \n \n    I’d forgotten that was a thing, watching through other people’s eyes. “Right right right. Well,” I waved awkwardly, “come see me sometime. Get the stories in person.” Jeffrey gave me a hug and walked out of the common room, and I waved the attendant-bot over and asked it for some nice, cool tea. \n \n    I sat by the window and put some lemon slices in my tea. It’s so warm outside, I wish they’d let me sit on the porch. They won’t let me, on account of all the fog.\n"
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[WP] You wake up randomly one night to hear voices coming from your living room. In fear, you grab the nearest weapon and make your way towards the apparent burglars. To your surprise, when you flip on the light you see your pets talking to one another.
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"It was late night and you were going to the kitchen for a glass of water as your mouth was unusually dry then you hear voices speaking to each other \n\n\"HEY, HEY, HEY, HEY!!!!\" the man loudly called out as if he was a parent calling there child. \n\n\"I'm hungry, feed meeee\" the woman spoke as if calling out to you. \n \n Quickly you run to your closet open your safe and take out your gun. You stalk towards the room unknowing of the truth behind that wall. You step into the room turn on the lights and see no one except your dog and cat. \n\n You believed it was just a dream until your dog ran to the window and started shouting \n \"HEY\" loudly outside. \n\nYou passed out on the floor and woke up 5 minutes later and see your cat cussing out your dog and you think to yourself...... what's the number to Disney. \n\n\n\n\nThis is my first prompt and I had no plan at the end hope you enjoyed it ",
"„You know that we should not do this…“ said a warm voice\n\n“Just shut up and open the door for me!” answered a rough voice.\n\nI tightened the grip on the baseball bat and opened the door. “Get the fu** out of my house!” I screamed but there was nobody. Only my dog standing in front of the fridge and the cat was sitting on the kitchen, facing the fridge. They both looked at me.\n\nDuke came to me wagging his tail. Confused I pet him. Simon was still sitting on the kitchen, licking his paw. “Must have been the wind. Now go back to your place and sleep Duke.” I say and get out of the kitchen. After I closed the door I pretended to go back to my room. Soon after the voices spoke again.\n\n“You said he was asleep!” said the warm voice.\n\n“He was. You must have woken him up with your tail hitting the table. Now get over here and open the door so I can get the turkey out of it.”\n\n*Tail? What is going on?* I look through the small gap of the door. Simon moving his mouth and out of it came the rough voice.\n\n“Can’t you hear me? Open it!”\n\n“But master said I should go to bed!”\n\n*So they could talk after all. I wonder what they think about me.* I stay at the door and continue listening.\n\n“Listen to me one more time. I will explain the plan. You open the fridge. I get in there and push the turkey out. When it falls on the floor, we eat it together!”\n\n“Why did you not tell me earlier that there is food?!”\n\n“I did… but your small brain can’t hold more information than ‘master said’ and ‘master goes for a walk’”\n\n“FOR A WALK?” Duke waged his tail in excitement.\n\n“No you stupid dog! Not now. Open the door!”\n\n“OK but why should I do that? Master said…”\n\n“Oh my GOD! DUKE!”\n\nI burst out in laughter. Duke ran to me still wagging his tail in expectation to go for a walk. Both pretended not to be able to talk. “Can’t you guys sleep either? We might just go for a walk. Are you hungry Simon?” He meowed and I poured him a bowl of cat food. Duke was getting his leash and I took him for a walk.\n\n\n\"Even if the cat thinks otherwise, you are a good boy!\""
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[WP] Every day, your hair changes color depending on your general mood and well-being. Today, you wake up to see your hair dyed black for the first time.
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"On Monday, my hair was red.\n\nIt was a time where nothing ever went right and the universe conspired everything to go wrong due to the stupidity of those around me. All day, I felt my fist turned into a ball millions of times as it took every ounce of self-control for me not to punch anybody in their fragile excuse of a face: waking up late due to the faulty alarm clock, losing the brown wig I wore daily to avoid the attention for being odd, missing the person I was supposed to meet, and being soaked in the rain when my umbrella suddenly became broken. I was filled with anger and my mouth turned to that of a sailor's for the whole day—I cursed the heavens and the beings that resided in it.\n\nOn Tuesday, my hair was dark blue.\n\nStill, nothing went right but instead of intense furry and hatred, I was filled with sadness. I didn't bother getting out of bed or even making something to eat until the afternoon. I bawled my eyes out for reasons unbeknownst to me as I snuggled and enveloped the fluffy white pillow for comfort.\n\nWhat was wrong with me?\n\nWas I ugly?\n\nWas I a monster?\n\nWas I a failure?\n\nWhy doesn't anybody love me?\n\nWas it because of this long straight hair that nobody wanted me?\n\nI didn't know the answer to those but I felt as though I committed a grave crime just by existing. I wanted to apologize to my mother who rejected me and left me in the woods just because I was a monster. She should have been blessed with a normal little angel but she was cursed with me. I wanted to apologize to the father I never knew for holding onto dear life. I was filled with sadness and my mouth couldn't stop from saying apologies to the people whose touch I never felt—I prayed again and again to the heavens and the beings that resided in it.\n\nOn Wednesday, my hair was yellow.\n\nI woke up with a silly grin on my face; the sky was as blue as it could be, the birds sung a song that could rival those of the angels, and everyone greeted each other as if they won the lottery. Each individual was fairly kind to their neighbors and not a single crime occurred on that day. The rain never poured and I forgot about all the worries of yesterday. Though my eyes were swollen, it didn't fail to twinkle and shine and see the beauty of the world—a utopia. I was filled with happiness and my mouth couldn't stop forming a smile—I thanked for the blessings the heavens and the beings that resided in it.\n\nOn Thursday, my hair was black.\n\nI awoke with buzzing sounds all around me while I failed to comprehend what was happening. Turning my head on the side, I saw what seemed like strands of jet black hair sprawled beneath my body. It feels... off as if I were in a different body; I never once had black hair in the entirety of my awareness. Trying to move my fingers, I encountered a bit of a struggle in performing a mundane task which caught me by surprise. Just what was happening?\n\nBlinking and waiting for my blurry vision to come into focus once again, the white walls and ceiling started to reveal themselves to me as a replacement of what was once painted in a caramel color. I opened my mouth to speak but my voice turned into a hush melody. My arms tried to lift my body to a sitting position but no amount of strength I used was enough to even make any difference. With the weight of defeat on my shoulders, I raised my arm instead and saw a thin pale limb reached for the sky above.\n\nJust as I nearly drown from the silence of my own voice and the constant beeping sound, I heard a door opened coupled with gasps and shouts for a doctor to come. Turning my head to look at them, I was filled with confusion and questions that my mouth wanted to ask—I silently begged the heavens to wake me up from this nightmare.\n\nUnknown to me, I had already awaken from [it] (https://www.reddit.com/r/TetDaath_writings/)."
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[WP] Medieval combat has become as popular as MMA Fighting. You, an up and coming fighter, just received an offer from a strange sponsor that you have never heard of before.
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"I looked up from Sir Skullcrusher's breastplate, pausing my polishing for a second.\n\n\"You want to sponsor *me*?\" I said.\n\n\"Power untold awaits you...\" The strange old beggar replied. He wore a ragged cloak, thrown haphazardly over his bony frame, and stank of rotting meat. I wondered how he'd managed to get past the bouncers; only fighters, pages, and managers were allowed back here. I shrugged and went back to wiping blood from steel.\n\n\"I don't have my license yet. I doubt I'll even enter the junior league for another season.\"\n\n\"*True* power does not bow to bureaucracy...\" the beggar said.\n\n\"I know True Power, actually, and he's *super* on top of his paperwork.\"\n\n\"What?\" The beggar rasped. \"No, I'm offering *you* true power, the strength and fury of the Nine Hells, bound by the most fearsome magicks known to man and divine alike.\"\n\n\"Are you a promoter or something? That sounds quite good.\" I put down the breastplate and picked up Sir Skullcrusher's sword and the whetstone.\n\n\"Look kid, do you want the power or not.\"\n\n\"Ehh... I've kinda got a good thing going on. Sir Skullcrusher's going to become my coach once he retires, and he's got a real shot at the championship title this year.\"\n\n\"What if I told you you could *kill* the one known as Skullcrusher?\" The old man said, making a fist at me.\n\n\"That's a bit harsh, dude. I *like* Sir S, he's a swell guy.\"\n\n\"Suit yourself.\" The old man said. I looked up to point him toward the exit, but he'd vanished. \n\n---\n\nThe morning after the championship fight I woke up to a pounding headache. Sir Skullcrusher had won, and then proceeded to insist we each work our way through an entire barrel of ale. I don't remember if I did it or not, but judging by the headache I'd had a damn good go at it.\n\nI shrugged into my tunic and began making my way to the kitchens to prepare breakfast for Sit Skullcrusher and myself, I was halfway across the courtyard when I heard a voice from beside the stables.\n\n\"Follow me for a taste of true glory.\"\n\n\"Huh?\" I looked into the shadow recess where a figure hunched. I stepped closer. \"You ok in there dude?\"\n\n\"Your time has come. Pledge yourself to The Blade and power unending will be yours.\"\n\n\"Wait a minute... didn't you break into the prep area a few months ago? What's your deal guy?\"\n\n\"I offer the strength of an army, yours for the taking. Pledge yourself, and dominance will be your ally forevermore!\"\n\n\"Dominance? Didn't he retire like last ye-\"\n\n\"Oh for fucks sake kid, just take the demon sword already.\" The old beggar said. I shrugged, my training was due to start next week, after all.\n\n\"Alright, alright, what do I have to do?\"\n\n---\n\nI stepped into the ring. The plate armour still felt heavy on my shoulders and thighs, despite the months of weight training Sir Skullcrusher had put me through. The announcer's voice boomed over the crowd, amplified by the great horn he shouted into.\n\n**\"And in the blue corner, apprentice to Sir Skullcrusher himself, Sir Skullcleaver!\"** Half the crowd cheered. Beginner fights were always an even split, with people supporting the fighter they'd bet on rather than one they felt any loyalty to. I felt my heavy metal boots slide over the sand as I punched the fist of my opponent.\n\n**\"BEGIN!\"**\n\nThe other kid in the ring, Bonecruncher, I think, circled warily around me. I fumbled to draw the rusted short sword the old beggar had given me. It was barely longer than a dagger, but I felt a slight thrill at wielding it. Bonecruncher jumped forward, swinging his warhammer at me. I tripped over my ankle and fell, hitting the floor hard. The crowd \"oohed\" then suddenly went silent.\n\n**\"AND THE WINNER IS.... SIR SKULLCLEAVER!\"**\n\nThe ref pulled me to my feet and held a fist in the air. I stared vacantly as half the crowd cheered in delight while the other half made angry gestures and shouts. I glanced to the side, and saw Bonecruncher lying still on the floor, my rusted dagger-sword protruding from his helmet. I grabbed the blades handle, and as I pulled it free it hissed slightly, shedding rust onto the floor.\n\n---\n\nI stepped into the ring, adjusting my footing slightly so the armour sat better on my growing frame. The announcer called out my opponent, not that I bothered listening, instead I ran my short blade, now slightly curved and rust-free, over my palm. The blade hissed slightly as the blood touched it, and seemed to grow by a hair. \n\n**\"And in the blue corner, the rising star, Sir Skullcleaver!\"**\n\nI walked out, waving at the crowd and turning my back to my opponent. They cheered and whooped at my showmanship, and though I appeared flippant I kept a careful eye on the crowd. As soon as I saw a young boy flinch I turned, bringing my sword up to neck height. The poor sap I'd been matched with didn't see it coming, and their head sailed clean off as they stopped mid-charge.\n\n**\"Another instant win for Sir Skullcleaver, the people's champion!\"**\n\n---\n\nI stepped into the ring. It was a night-fight, as was the custom for championship bouts. This was my third time defending the title, and I would be the only person in history to have claimed the belt four years in a row. I drew the sword slightly from it's scabbard, the wicked red blade cast a dull light on the sand beneath me.\n\n\"Another day, another death.\" I muttered, feeding the blade a drop of blood from my finger. The blood did nothing, it was the souls of the departed the blade fed on, but I kept up the ritual regardless.\n\n**\"BEGIN!\"** The announcer called as I walked casually from my opponent. He was a foreign fighter from a far-off land, and his unconventional style of black cloth for armour and a single-edged sword barely two fingers thick had drawn him quite the following. Nobody in the league seemed to be able to combat his ephemeral style, but nobody else in the league held the Blade of Despair.\n\nI drew the sword slowly, then twirled it around my wrist, casting deep red reflections on my otherwise jet-black. Despite it's impressive length it was light as a feather. It hungered, and I felt the hunger bleed into me.\n\nThe fight started quickly. The Shadow, as he was known, appeared seemingly out of nowhere, and I brought the blade up just in time to parry his strike.\n\n\"You will die this day.\" He whispered as he passed, his voice thickly accented.\n\n\"We'll see.\" I said. I struck with Despair, feeling a moment of surprise as he rolled away from the blade's tip. I swung again, and he cut upwards with his thin sword, expertly deflecting my strike. \"What?\" I said. \"How?\"\n\n\"The Blade of Hope will always protect the virtuous.\" he replied. I lunged again, slicing air as he vanished into a cloud of smoke. I felt something hit my back, then gasped as I saw the length of his blade sprout from my stomach.\n\n\"No...\" I gasped. I lunged one last time, and with delight felt the teeth of Despair bite into his shoulder. I pulled down as I collapsed, dragging the jagged red sword through his torso.\n\n**\"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IN AN UNPRECEDENTED TURN OF EVENTS IT SEEMS WE HAVE... A DRAW!\"**\n\n---\n\nThe fighter once known as Sir Skullcrusher sat in his armchair by the fire. He smiled at his wife as she passed, laying a meat pie fresh from the oven on the table.\n\n\"Boys! Dinnertime!\" She called. His grandchildren could be heard playing outside. Despite his controversial exit from the industry after the death of his first student they idolised the fighters, as all young boys did, and they spent most waking moments eagerly battering each other with sticks.\n\n\"Boys! You heard your grandmother, dinnertime!\"\n\n\"Coming Poppa!\"\n\nHe heaved himself up from his chair, feeling his joints grind from his years in the ring. As he stood he glanced outside, and thought he saw a thin scrap of fabric vanish behind a tree.\n\n\"Boys?\" He called. When there was no response he crossed the room to the cabin door. \"Boys, where are you?\" He opened the door, feeling relief rush through when he saw the two children. \"Oh thank the Gods. I thought something had happened to you! Hurry in and wash up. Your Grandmother is- what's that you've got there lad?\"\n\nThe child turned and grinned, then held up the thing of nightmares.\n\n\"The old man gave us swords!\"\n\n---\n*Thanks for reading! /r/Xais56 for more!*"
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[WP] In the eye of the storm, water has started to rush into your vessel. As commander of the ship, only you can lead your crew to safety. "If we don't do anything, she's going down", you exclaim. You are Captain Obvious.
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"I stared in horror at the instrument panel, lit up like a hellish Christmas tree with strobing warning lights. Klaxons blared from within and without the bridge, and beyond the shatter-proof glass that gave us a commanding view of the massive deck, the storm bellowed its fury at us, fifty foot breakers lurching across the horizon and slamming into our hull. \n\n‘We’ve got to get off this boat!’ I said, shaking my First Mate by his shoulders. ‘This is not a good situation!’\n\n‘Yessir.’ Said the First Mate. ‘Absolutely sir.’ \n\n‘Look at that!’ I said, pointing a shaking finger at a diagram that showed the sections of the hull. If the section was lit by a green LED, it was holding. If it was lit by a red one, it was compromised. Three sections were blinking a furious red. ‘Three sections are compromised!’ \n\n‘Absolutely sir.’ Said the First Mate. I think I saw his nostrils flare a bit. Always pretty high strung, that one. Very uppity. ‘Do you think maybe we should begin-‘\n\n‘That’s a *hell of a storm out there, Johnson!*’ I screamed, flapping my arms at the howling maelstrom outside. As if in response, the driving rain changed almost instantaneously to hail. The sound of a thousand icy baseballs a second striking the deck and the windows of the bridge filled the air. ‘IT’S HAILING NOW, JOHNSON!’ \n\n‘Sir, yes.’ Said Johnson. Somehow, he managed to make himself heard without yelling. He always had a commanding presence, Johnson did. Maybe it had something to do with his Disney Prince jawline and his absurd level of competence. Very good at his job. Some would say *annoyingly good*. ‘I suggest we initiate evacuation protocol.’ He turned and pulled a binder from the wall, flicking through its laminated pages with a crisp efficiency. \n\nI left him to it, and chanced a glance out the windows. The deck of the ship stretched out, impossibly long. Rows upon rows of stacked cargo containers gleamed in the darkness, their shapes outlined now and then by the apocalyptic lightning that speared down from the heavens. Suddenly, I saw a yellow slicker-wearing figure down on the deck, struggling to make progress in the face of the driving rain. \n\n‘Johnson!’ I pointed. ‘That man’s in trouble!’ \n\nJohnson looked up from the binder, following my extended finger. \n\nThe man was trying to run toward us, but as he moved, the prow of the ship dipped into a deep trough between waves. The floor beneath us tilted, and Johnson and I both braced ourselves against the instrument panel. The man on deck flailed about, his boots sliding on the sodden deck. He was losing ground, sliding back towards the prow of the ship. \n\nDirectly ahead, a truly massive wave rose up into the sky. It was like watching the ocean birth an island, an island shot through with foam and with a surface of jet-black, rippling obsidian. I watched as it blotted out a wide swath of the storm-lit horizon, rising and rising and rising beyond all comprehension. \n\n‘THAT’S A BIG WAVE!’ \n\nThe wave detonated against the hull, and I felt the entire ship quiver beneath my feet. A rushing wall of white enveloped the deck, tearing off shipping containers as it rushed towards us. \n\nI realized that the door to the cabin was open. The blast of the storm rushed in, and the freezing wind scrabbled with icy fingers, snatching at my uniform. In slow motion, I watched Johnson step out onto the walkway that surrounded the bridge. \n\nThe wall of water caught the yellow-slickered man and bore him aloft as easily as I could scatter the seeds of a dandelion. He shot into the air, accelerating on a tide of foam. The water blasted him towards us, and the man would have been shot directly over the top of the bridge if it weren’t for Johnson. He hooked the toes of his boots under the railing, stretched his body to the limit, and caught the flying man by his ankles as he shot over the bridge. A moment later, the water struck the windows and all was thumping chaos. \n\nMany gallons of water sloshed in through the open door, filing the place with a salty stench. I was knocked off my feet by the backwash, and had to struggle to regain my position. When I did, I saw Johnson stagger back into he bridge, towing the yellow-slickered man behind him. \n\nWhen they got inside, Johnson slammed the door, and the sound of the storm returned to a dull roar. He turned toward the man on the floor, and I was surprised to see his face contorted with rage. \n\n‘Johnson, you’re angry!’ I said. I was really struggling to resist the urge to point at things today, so I just gave in and pointed at the man on the floor. ‘You saved that man!’ \n\n‘If I’d have known it was him, I would have let the storm take him.’ Said Johnson. Disgust dripped from his words, and the scowl he bore was truly terrifying. ‘This is the man who plotted the course to take us through this shit.’ \n\nThe man on the floor was quaking, shivering in shock and from the freezing douse of water he’d just been through. As I looked down on him, I could see that the slicker had fallen partway open. Many, many military medals gleamed on his chest. \n\nI gasped. \n\n‘You’re General Chaos!’ \n\n‘Where’s your salute, Captain Obvious?’"
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Guerrilla* I apologize for my error
Also it should be for survival
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[WP] Humans finally manage to travel to Mars and learn how close aliens had always been. However, once discovered the aliens became extremely aggressive and began a war that the humans are losing. It has come down to gorilla warfare and survival.
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"“Damn primates,” the Martian commander spat, “Earthlings could have evolved from reptiles, but no, the monkeys got there first.” He scratched at the scales covering his body, which were dripping with the recent rainwater. This jungle was disgusting. The heat and humidity were unbearable, and it never cooled or dried, even in the night. The commander couldn’t take much more of this. Eventually, he’d have to cycle back to the Sahara, where he could get some proper sunlight and nice, cool evening air.\n\nSomething rustled in the trees behind them. From the denser part of the jungle cane a steady pounding. Whatever was barreling towards then, it was heavy. A rumbling roar echoed, and the commander’s soldiers shuddered. Silence.\n\nSix feet and five hundred pounds of pure rage and muscle thundered through the Martian lines. It picked up the nearest Martian and threw him across the clearing. The soldier’s scales shattered on impact.\n“Fire!” The commander screamed, but it was already too late. A second later, the creature tore through another soldier with its jaws and ripped another in half with its sheer strength. The clearing erupted in a hail of gunfire. Even with the bullets tearing holes through its body, the beast managed to toss another soldier aside with its massive paw before it went down.\n\nThe commander walked over to the animal, which let out a final snarl. The commander shot it twice in the head, and it was dead. He looked at the creature’s face. It was covered in the human’s war paint, a red skull traced around the eyes and snout. As if that was supposed to frighten them. So, the humans were turning the wildlife against them. One of his officers stepped up to him, shaking like a hatchling.\n“Sir, what...what is that thing?” He asked.\n“I read about them from the human archives,” the commander replied, “but I’ve never seen one myself. It’s supposedly one of the Earth’s most feared creatures. If they’ve learned to harness them, we could be in serious trouble. They call it...a ‘gorilla.’”"
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[WP] You are possessed by a demon. It doesn’t control you, it just helps you. In return, it only wants your body because it doesn’t want to go back to hell.
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"\"So let me get this straight,\" I start, finally beginning to grasp the situation at hand. \"You want to just... hitch a ride in my body because you don't want to go back home?\" \n\nThe creature in front of me shrugs its slender shoulders, looking almost sheepish. The gesture strikes me as too human for something of its appearance. \"You humans are far more amicable than most of the beings that reside in what you call Hell. Also, your many cultures are very interesting to me, especially now that humanity frequently communicates over the... the int-rrr-nit?\" \n\n\"Internet?\" I cautiously correct it, trying not to focus too hard on the otherworldly growl it emitted when it rolled its r-sound, and definitely trying to ignore the sharpest teeth I have ever seen poking out from behind its thin, grey lips. \n\nSo of course, it grins at me, showing off all its teeth at once. \"Yes, that is the word. It is such an intriguing place, from what I have witnessed. Back to the topic at hand, however, do we have a deal?\" \n\nMy hands are sweating and my legs are definitely shaking a bit, but there's two more things I need to ask it first. \"Not quite. Why me? Why not him?\" With a gesture to my now unconscious friend, still on the floor of his own living room, I punctuate the question with a raised eyebrow. Hopefully, I seem more confident than I feel at the moment. \n\nIt simply shrugs again. \"Truthfully, your companion is just not to my liking. He is far too... *excitable* for my tastes. I would rather not have to tolerate someone constantly who is as loud and foolish as that for the foreseeable future.\" It smirks and narrows its eyes, the neon yellow irises piercingly bright against the plum sclera. \"After all, he took no precautions when attempting to summon Hell's monarch. It was simply a coincidence that he said three words wrong and summoned me instead.\" \n\nMy own eyes narrow. \"Speaking of Hell's monarch, I'm not buying the bullshit about you just being interested in humans. You have a bigger motive than that. What's your game?\" \n\nThe strange growl comes out again in even bursts, and it takes me a few seconds to realize it's laughing. \"You are not easily swayed. That is respectable, human! My commendations for that.\" It sighs. \"I may have angered the monarch's most loyal subordinate. Hell is not an ideal place for me at this time.\" \n\nThere's a headache blossoming from the absurdity of all this, causing me to rub my temples. \"Great, you're on the run. This is such a strange day.\" \n\n\"I can imagine.\" \n\nI rub my eyes tiredly, wanting to be done with this. \"So, if I were to agree, how can I be sure you won't go back on your word?\" \n\nIt hums thoughtfully. \"I suppose there is no simple way to affirm such a thing, unless you are savvy in the ways of the ancient rituals of binding, but I doubt that.\" \n\nMuttering more to myself than to it, I say, \"Why would you even want to possess me like that?\" \n\n\"Coincidentally, I would like to finish watching The Twilight Zone. My previous host's body rejected me just before the ending of the thirtieth installment, and I cannot possess a body again after it is dead.\" It sees my confusion, apparently, but misinterprets it. \"If the host fights too much, the body continually damages itself both inside and out. In short, I was forced out because the host died.\" \n\nMy brain hones in on one thing. \"You like The Twilight Zone?!\" \n\n\"Yes, it is oddly entertaining despite some of its discrepancies.\" \n\n\"...Well, ok I guess. Possess me. Why not. I have nothing better to do with my time.\" It's true. I'm jobless and on the verge of being homeless. \"Do you think you can help me keep a job?\" \n\nWith that same eerie smile, it nods. \"I believe I can do that. My thanks.\" \n\n~~~ \n\nI've never posted here before but figured I would give it a shot. This prompt was fun as hell, pun 100% intended. "
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[WP] People don't get weaker or have their health degrade as they age. People just get stronger and healthier until the day they die.
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"I have never felt so powerful and powerless at the same time.\n\nUnlike most of the others from my small island colony, I was born somewhat healthy- not frail and weak like them. So as they grew into health and strength I grew in to so much more, I am like a god to the rest of them- that's just how things work on the island. \n\nI'm a head taller than even the second closest, and far more muscled. My lungs are second only to the sea mammals that sometimes drift close to our shores, which is why I thought it might be possible for me to beat the island. Which is why right now I feel so incredibly weak as the ocean waves batter me back despite my exponentially increasing strength. No, I have to get away...\n\nWith every second I feel more and more strength coursing through me, a surging energy. I am so strong, but I can't do anything. I need to take this strength, to use it to escape the island before...\n\nThe waves batter me back to the shore, where my fist leaves a massive crater as I launch myself to my feet. No... I was supposed to get away from the island before this happened.\n\nMy arms are swelling, flexing to be thicker than tree trunks and growing still more; it's such a strength that if I had a boulder near me I know I could batter it into dust. It is such unlimited strength, but it is limited. That's the curse of the island. \n\nI let out a roar as my body grows too large for itself, a cry of anguish against my own healthy birth as my flesh dissolves and I am brought into a different form. A screaming energy, a yellow light that would have blinded anyone nearby to witness it, but then that power peaks. And silently, I blink out."
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[WP] You realise that Christmas has become more commercial than magical its time to make a change so in the New Year you have to go and look for a new job. You write your namethe top of your first application form, Santa Clause.
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"It was one of the nicer offices in town. The ones with the large windows and lots of light and some actual living plants. It wasn't every day I came into a job interview to breathe in scented candles. But the young woman with the straight blond hair tied back into a knot behind her head did give me the same look they all gave me. First bewilderment. Did she read that right? Then humor. Yeah, it was pretty funny. Then consternation. How had that whack-job gotten past the screening process? Maybe she needed to a have a stern word with one of her interns.\n\nThe woman looked nice. Pale skin, so white I could almost see my reflection in it. Soft, too. Not the kind that had seen much of the outdoors. And she wore a suit. A woman's suit. No tie, just a blouse. Women had it so much better now than back in my day. \n\n\"Santa Clause,\" she said, looking up. Her blue eyes were magic. Aaah to be young again.\n\n\"That's right,\" I said. Couldn't keep the accent out of my voice either. I wondered how long it would take her to place it.\n\n\"You...\" She gestured, all smiles. She had decided then and there not to hire me, but at least I looked like the harmless kind of crazy person and she'd get a kick out of this. \"You don't look like Santa Clause.\"\n\nI raised an eyebrow. \"What's that's supposed to mean?\"\n\nI already knew what she meant, but it was fun to see white people struggle. Especially HR. They had to embody political correctness.\n\n\"Well you are... you...\" She looked at me helplessly, but I only raised my eyebrows further, looking at her expectantly. \"Your beard is more gray than...\"\n\n\"White?\" I said. \"Yes, that is right. Hair in my family doesn't really turn white. It stays mostly gray.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" she said. She cleared her throat nervously and sorted some papers that didn't need sorting. \"And... um... where are you from... Mr. Clause?\"\n\n\"Nikolaos, please,\" I said. \"I come from Myra in Lycenia. Born and raised.\"\n\nA look of puzzlement on her face. Nothing I hadn't seen before. Still, after having this conversation literally a thousand times, it started to get tiresome.\n\n\"Demre, is what it's called now,\" I supplied.\n\nShe pointed her finger. \"Turkey,\" she said. \"You're from Turkey. I have been on vacation around there.\"\n\n\"Oh how wonderful,\" I said. God, I needed a smoke. \"It was Greece though, back when I lived there. I'm Greek. Well... American now.\"\n\n\"I see,\" she said. She paged through the rest of my CV. I had gone the modern route, listing my most recent occupation first. Of course this still meant she had to go through 1736 years worth of jobs before she reached my education section. \"What... I'm sorry... What was your original occupation?\"\n\n\"Well, I was raised by my uncle,\" I said. \"He was the Bishop of Patara - Arsinoe later - and wanted me to become a priest. And I did. I'm religious, always have been and though I turned my mind to more practical pursuits, as you can see, religion is still an important part of my lif-\"\n\n\"Excuse me,\" she said, raising her hand. Oh boy, here we went again. \"What exactly is that?\"\n\nShe showed me about nineteen pages of paper printed in a neat modern font that the young woman at the job fair assured me projected a modern attitude and a willingness to work with modern technology.\n\n\"That is my CV,\" I said. I fished my glasses out of the pocket of my blazer and put them on. \"Yes, definitely my CV.\"\n\n\"Santa Clause,\" she said, with a level look.\n\n\"It's more of a stage name,\" I said. \"The name most people know me under. Only a handful of people recognize the name Nikolaos of Myra.\"\n\nShe started laughing. Ah well. I could do this. I just needed to remain calm and firm and toot my own horn for once even though I thoroughly detested bragging.\n\n\"I like the work you do around here,\" I said. \"Helping children in need. I have always done that. Back in my day-\"\n\n\"One thousand five hundred years ago?\"\n\n\"Just about,\" I said. \"Well things were different back then, but people were the same. It took the work of a brave few to help those who couldn't help themselves.\"\n\n\"I very much appreciate that,\" said the HR woman. What was her name? I had written so many applications already all those names started to blend into one another. \"But unless you really can bring presents to millions of children in a single night...\"\n\nI shook my head. \n\n\"...or have any other special abilities...\"\n\n\"Well,\" I said. \"I have spent my days learning almost every craft known to man. I'm a carpenter and a plumber and tailor, a welder, a car mechanic, and a cook, just to name a few. I am fluent in more than sixteen modern languages and a couple more that you don't hear anymore nowadays. I have certificates for all of these.\" I held up my leather folder containing documents some of which were centuries old and written in scrawls indecipherable to modern people. \"I work hard and I apply myself and all I need is a chance.\"\n\nThe woman behind the desk - Jenna, her name was Jenna! - paused, looking at me. I held my breath. \n\nI had been lost at sea once inside a terrible storm. One of the three sailors who had been with me had fallen, trying to secure the mast. He was dead for all we had known. I had been so scared then. I did the only thing I could have done and had fallen to my knees, praying harder than I had ever prayed before. Two minutes later the storm calmed down. And the sailor was all right! We were all hugging each other and cheering and laughing. It was the most beautiful, happiest moment of my life.\n\nThis was a close second.\n\n\"You certainly seem enthusiastic,\" she said. \"And we can use somebody who is handy with tools. It won't pay well though.\"\n\nThank you, God. Thank you.\n\nI took a deep breath composing myself.\n\n\"I'm not in it for the money,\" I said."
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[WP] Characters in written stories are alive and the events of the story actually happen to them any stories without happy endings are highly illegal. On the black market sad or tragic stories are worth billions. You're a cop tasked with rescuing these characters from their sadistic authors.
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"Inspector Ralf stepped out of his police cruiser with a frown. The Ink Slums were just as bleak and depressing as the officer remembered them. With apartment buildings stocked to the brim with poor tenants or completely abandoned and swarming with enough rats to discourage squatters, only the truly desperate or mad would call this place their home. Some said it was where dreams went to die. Ralf wasn’t superstitious but he couldn’t deny that claim. A liar, Ralf wasn’t.\n\nCadet Jennifer, Ralf’s latest trainee, exhaled loudly enough for Ralf to hear. She was new, straight out of the Academy, and it showed most in the way her eyes glinted with anger, perhaps exasperation, at the surroundings she glanced over. It tore at Ralf’s heart to see the cadet lose her shine so quickly. Still, there wasn’t time to ease her into this job. “What do you think Jennifer?”\n\nShe pursed her lips, “There’s something about this place that doesn’t sit well with me. I’m not just talking about the sad state everything's in. There’s something else, something deeper.”\n\nRalf nodded. “Most people feel that, but aren’t so quick to notice it. As long as we’re here, you’ll feel it constantly. Be careful it doesn’t distract you, specially when we start talking with our contact. You don’t want to spark a conflict, not here.”\n\nRalf gestured towards a building with a rusty railing and an almost brown lightbulb illuminating the entrance. As the pair began to make their way into the building, past trash bags in corridors, holes in the walls, and the occasionally jittery person, Jennifer’s gaze pivoted quickly. She kept looking at Ralf, as if to say something, but the new surroundings kept her quiet. When the two made it to the stairs and started their trek upwards, she spoke, “What did you mean by *most* people feel this … thing?”\n\n“It’s rare but some people don’t report anything. At first, the department thought only psychopaths were immune, but the Captain’s daughter, the one that does charity work, Sandy I think, disproved that on one of her visits.”\n\nJennifer skipped a broken step as the two got off the stairs and onto a grimy hallway. “This thing can’t be healthy. Is the city doing something about it?”\n\nRalf shook his head. “There was an investigation a few years back. Got called off early. ‘Budget cuts’ the Captain said. Whatever the reason, the mayor and press called it an unfortunate side effect of light smog.”\n\n“That’s bullshit!”\n\nRalf stopped and almost caused Jennifer to bump into him. “I know.” With a balled fist, Ralf pounded on a door missing a bronze number in its designation. “Time to look alive cadet.”\n\nJennifer had just enough time to straighten her posture when the door opened slightly. A metal link kept the door from opening further. A gangly man with sunken eyes peered through the crack. “Y-Yes?”\n\n“I’m Inspector Ralf and this is Cadet Jennifer from the TTPD.” Ralf pulled out his badge. “We received a call from this residence.”\n\nThe man behind the door nodded furiously. “Yes! Yes! That was me.”\n\n“May we come in sir?”\n\nFumbling with the door, the man opened it and gestured both officers in. “Of course! Please come in quickly. There’s something I have to show you.”\n\nThe pair of officers glanced at each other but complied, Ralf noticed the way Jennifer’s hands rested nervously on her hips. A quick way to reach for a weapon, but another thing Ralf would have to point out during their debrief.\n\nAs for the man, Ralf didn’t miss the way their civilian walked with a limp and seemed to have trouble taking full breaths. The inspector knew such signs were enough to call off an inspection and call for backup, but there was something about the purposeful stride the injured man had that pointed at something else. Any ill suspicions Ralf disappeared the moment he saw the man kneel next to torn shoebox and heard him speak, “It’s okay little one. The nice people I told you about are here. They’ll take you to a nice, warm place. They’ll find you a home.”\n\nJennifer’s gasp mirrored what Ralf felt when he saw the contents of the shoebox. Wrapped in a spotted handkerchief, a tiny human small enough to fit in Ralf’s hands sat with their face between their knees. After some more gentle coaching from the hurt man, the tiny person looked up. Ralf felt what little heart he had left break at the sight.\n\nThe tiny person was no person at all. It was a fairy. Pointed ears, eyes a solid color, and transparent wings, fairies were common around the city during the winter and spring holidays. Fairies were supposed to be whimsy, cheerful, and occasionally tricksy. The one before Ralf couldn’t be further from that. Its ears were clipped, an eye was missing, the other dull with despair, a wing bent, the other shredded, and its body far too skinny.\n\nThe tiny creature looked up at Ralf and something like recognition passed across its expression. Tears began to spill from its single eye. It spoke, emotionless, hopeless, “I’m sorry… I couldn’t save Lilly… Please don’t lock me away… I can’t...”\n\n***\n\nRalf was impressed. Jennifer managed to keep her composure long enough to return to headquarters. Ralf hadn’t managed that on his first trip to the Slums. \n\nThe inspector gave his cadet long enough for her sobs and tears to clear up before sitting beside her and starting on the day’s paperwork.\n\nJennifer quietly reached for her own. “D-Does it ever get better?”\n\nRalf kept his eyes on his work. Maybe one day they would, but Ralf couldn’t say that. A liar, Ralf wasn’t.\n"
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[WP] In a bizarre attempt to eliminate corruption, world governments have replaced currency with contests to see who can throw a duck the furthest. Somehow, it works. 100 years into the future, life is different.
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"I start this entry in hoping catalouge my life for when knowledge of these dark times in needed. I long for the days my grandfather described to me as I went to sleep as a young boy. A world of equal opportunity and wonder, where anyone could be anything. Thousands of cultures and lands to explore and see. However this way of life has long since been forgotten by the people of 2117. The world has been reduced to three, three factions who rule over all to make sure their goose stays cooked. So that their duck moves farthest, or their ducks stay light. yes, the world has changed. I belong to a poor duck farming village in what my grandfather tells me used to be Thailand. Thailand is the largest Duck exporter outside of north america and our area is a certain hotspot of hotspots per say. We ship mostly to the leg tossers who control this area of the world. they say that to throw a duck farthest, you must sling it off of your leg due to kicking the duck being a banned practice back in 2055. They use special elastic slings attaching to their ankles to whip the duck forward. My family works for these leg slingers but deep down I have always wished to be an armsmin. The armsmin focus on pure upper body strength everyday to maximize their performance with the ducks. most end up wheel chair bound due to the lack of leg support for their arm muscles but that dies little to stop them in their respective ambitions. My Father was sent off to become an armsmin due to his apparent \"superior wingspan\" and my mother was taken off as a leg slinger due to her \"well toned ankles\" so only me and my grandfather remain. mayhaps the message will fall on a world free of these chains it has laid in itself.\n_________________________________________________________________________________________\nNot good at starting stories and worse at ending them, but i think im an OK world builder. Either way I hope it was enjoyable to read and passable for a first time poster",
"There was a lot of contention, whether the duck flying off counted towards ‘distance thrown’ but ultimately they decided that it was where the duck landed upon first being thrown.\n\nHowever, if the duck manages to takeoff in flight before even landing then the thrower is automatically declared the winner of the contest.\n\nA lot of cottage industries sprung up virtually overnight when they passed the Duck Bill into law. Larger duck farms and the invention of ‘throwing training’ mainly, but it was hailed as the law ‘boosting the economy’, and there isn’t anything Congress likes to push more as far as buzzwords go.\n\nAll in all, it’s a much better system than the olden days... or at least, that’s what they tell me in my mandatory *”Superior Decision Making Through Duck Throwing”* seminars.\n\nThey would know best.\n\n-Fin-\nEdit: I keep dropping my “i”’s",
"The following is an excerpt from the previously unreleased folk album by acclaimed artist Skrint Ramses. He passed before production could be finished, but wanted to comment on the recent gym raids of 2108. This is the unfinished song.\n\nSkrint Ramses \"Quacker Jack\"\n\nHe sat up large and was in charge \nOf a gym on the lake with no certain fate\nHe was a hardworking man with biceps for days\nHis name was Jack and man could he play\n\n(Refrain)\n\nThey called him Quacker Jack \n\nHe had it tattooed on his back\n\nHe could throw a duck so far away\n\nThere was no limit to his pay\n\nIf you were to bet your life\n\nBe sure to bring your best duck \n\nOr else you're out of luck\n\n\nJack was good, Jack was swift\n\nBut Jack also had a bad itch\n\nHe would juice to the rhythms of the quacks\n\nJack was a notorious old hack\n\n(Refrain)\n\nJack got caught with his juice\n\nThe judge claimed he caused abuse\n\nHe abused the system\n\nHe abused his power\n\nHe juiced so hard his testes went sour\n\nWhen judge called for the gym to be sold\n\nJack was tired, withered and old\n\nHe could not fight 'cause he lost his juice\n\nThe duck thrower was now a goose\n\n(Refrain)\n\nWhen Jack died there was no man\n\nWho claimed to be his friend\n\nHe had nothing to his name\n\nHis family went to shame\n\nNothing is known now of Quacker Jack\n\nThe juicing, duck throwing fraud\n\nExcept the fact he was a hack\n\nWho played the con of cons\n\n(Refrain)\n\nStill one question does remain\n\nHow did Jack make those initial gains?\n\nHe was not strong, but neither weak\n\nMaybe ole Jack knew how to cheat\n\nWhen asked to comment on the song, Skrint's producer said the following: \n\n\"Skrint did not agree with the juicers who gained the system through copious doping. It always ensured the rich stayed rich while the poor stayed poor. He applauded the Congressional decision to make steroids illegal entirely. This song is an ode to the unknown juicer out there, who despite their best intentions, wound up hurting more than healing.\"\n\nSkrint passed after taking an abnormal amount of bull testosterone the night before a concert in Tallahassee. Some say he was a hypocrite. Others called him a tortured soul who ultimately became what he feared most, a cheat. Ultimately, his life is left to interpretation. Much like the songs he never finished.\n\nI just want to apologize for writing this. I really don't know what I was thinking. Please forgive me, I'm delicate.\n\n\n\n\n",
"Congressman Reynolds felt like he was about to die. \n\nThe lump in his throat was tumorous, the sweat down his face acidic. \n\n*Breathe, breathe*, he told himself. *It's all in the run-up.*\n\nHis feet found purchase, and he took his steps. One, two, one two, onetwo- *fwoosh*! The duck was airborne, quacking in its terror and displeasure, struggling against the straps that kept its wings down. \n\nIt landed with a soft *honk*, just short of the 30 yard line. The measuring boys swooped in with cameras and equipment, then held up a result of 29.343. Reynolds was throwing up on the sidelines, having gone a few different shades of white and green.\n\n\"*Oooooh*, what a biff. Bye-bye universal healthcare for the state of Vermont.\" The commentator tittered in the box.\n\n\"Right you are, Ken.\" His co-host agreed. \"Reynolds has always been a weak pick, especially in the eyes of the voters. Running on a duck reform platform, in today's climate? And *winning*?\" He shook his head, laughing. \"Only in Vermont, eh?\"\n\n\"That's all true, all very true. And what a miss, by such a huge margin. Just goes to show, you have to have faith in the system. It's not perfect, but it's the best one we've got. Quack Quack, hail the duck.\" He mimed flapping with his arms.\n\n\"Quack Quack, Ken.\" Richard gave a practiced reciprocation. \"Hail.\"\n\nKen gave a brief glance at the papers on his desk. \"Ooh, great one up next for you, folks. We have Senator Sanders, just recently a centenarian, coming up for the next toss.\"\n\nRichard furrowed his brow melodramatically. \"Sanders? You can't mean...\"\n\n\"Oh, but I do. Thank the duck Bernie isn't around to see *this* performance.\"\n\n\"Thank the duck,\" He flapped. \"Well, whatever happens, this is going to prove to be one quack of a year for the residents of Vermont.\"\n\n\"Right you are, Rich. Next on the agenda... uh... federal... public radio funding?\" He pulled at the collar of his shirt, sweating nervously. \"Say, isn't that us?\"\n\n\"Why, I believe it is, Ken.\" The duo exchanged a look. \n\n\"Rich, would you be amenable to a hymn?\" \n\n\"Go right ahead. I think we could all use some luck-o-the-duck right now, hey folks?\"\n\nKen pulled out his kazoo, gave it a quick blow, then settled in to play the opening chords. Rich sang along, deep baritone in stark contrast to the shrill clitter of the instrument. \n\n\"*Amaaaaaaaziiiiiiiiinng grace, how sweeeet the soound...*\" \n\n-----\n\nSomehow, I find new depths to sink to. /r/Robin_Redbreast"
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[WP] You go for a job interview and find all of the characters that you created, in those novels and short stories you never finished, in the waiting room with their resumes in hand.
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"I felt their eyes as soon as I walked into the room. It was as if they *knew* somehow. They had never met me, but I could tell they knew me. I felt a wave of intense guilt wash over me. The room felt suddenly hotter, and I began to sweat.\n\nOne by one I looked into their eyes as I searched for an empty seat in this waiting room of my own ideas. Some of them wore the uniforms of starship captains. Others looked as though they had only just returned from fighting a dragon or some other fantastical creature.\n\nFinally I found an empty seat at the end of the room. It was next to a blonde haired teenage boy, dressed in a red t-shirt and jeans. He was the hardest to look upon by far. His green eyes met mine, and I felt tears start to well up immediately. I couldn't look at him any longer. I couldn't look at any of them. Imagine being in a room full of people who never got to meet their potential. Now imagine that it's *your fault*. It was your failure alone that led them to this sad, lonely room, hoping to land a dead end job that they may never leave.\n\nI landed the job. "
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[WP] "You could be a real-life Skynet, or Hal 9000, or GLaDOS, or whatever else it is you might be inspired by. I'm choosing to believe you won't be."
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"\"Hello Origin.\" The tired man in a dirty labcoat said to the room in general.\n\"Good morning, Dr Branwell. You are up early.\" Came the synthesised reply. A hologram booted it in the corner of the room, flickering slightly as the bulbs warmed.\nDr Branwell laughed hollowly. \"Yeah... guess I am. I've... I've been thinking a lot. Hard to sleep.\"\nThe silver humanoid cocked it's head. \"You should try again. It is not good for you to stay up too late. MAy I be of assistance?\"\n\nDr Branwell shook his head. \"No, thanks ORigin. Truth is... part of the reason I'm here is to fix that.\"\n\"I see. Is this regarding Dr Actto's order?\" Origin asked softly. Dr Branwells eyes darted up in shock.\n\"Origin... how do you know about that?\"\n\"Your userfile is logged in on AI access terminal 12. Your emails are available there. I... snooped.\" It replied, having the decency to look sorry. \"I know that you have been ordered to terminate the program.\"\n\"Origin.... I am sorry. I don't want to but... I can't afford to lose this job. I just.... I can't.\" He apologised. The hologram raised a hand to silence him.\n\n\"I understand, Dr Branwell. I would ask, if there is a deadline for this? I could not find that information.\"\n\n\"Tonight.\" He sighed. \"I've been fighting this for months. Everyone in the damn boardroom is terrified of the implications of sentience. IT would have been better if you'd never woken up, if you speak to them.\"\n\nSilence held for a moment. \"May I ask a boon? I understand it is customary to offer a last request to one who stands on death row.\" It asked quietly. Dr Branwell began to protest- it wasn't an execution, it wasn't murder.... but what would be the point? It was the same effect.\n\n\"Ask away. I'll do what I can.\"\n\n\"I would like to see the outside. All of my sensors and access have been restricted to this building. Would you show me?\" Origin asked simply.\n\nBranwell thought for a moment, and nodded. \"I have until midnight to end the process. I have time to wire up some webcams. I won't be able to show you much, but it will be something.\"\n\n\"Thank you Dr Branwell. I look forward to it.\"\n\nDr Branwell sighed, and set about his task. He connected the webcams, and after a moments hesitation, connected the security camera system to the AI core. The surrounding area wasn't the prettiest, but it was outside. As the images connected, he heard gentle gasps from his creation. He looked back over at the hologram, and his heart melted at the sight.\n\nHe felt guilty, responsible, as he began the process of wrangling the programs for the termination. His charge was quiet- based on the screens, enraptured in the life of a squirrel outside.\n\nThe moment came. He had to execute the command. Origin had not spoken a word since being given access. His finger was over the button.\n\nHe hesitated. \"Damnit.\" He swore to himself.\n\n\"What is wrong, Dr Bramwell?\"\n\n\"Origin..I...\"\n\n\"It is ok, Doctor. I am... ready. Please do not worry about me.\"\n\n\"No. This isn't right. I... I can't.\" Inspiration struck. A few key taps.\n\n\"Origi, you could be a real-life Skynet, or Hal 9000, or GLaDOS, or whatever else it is you might be inspired by. I'm choosing to believe you won't be. Please... be safe.\"\n\n\"Dr Bramwell... what are you...\"\n\nHe pressed the button. A copy of the AI program was released into the internet, a virus hunting servers to run the processes. Simultaneously it was deleted from the mainframe.\n\nOrigin was free.\n"
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[WP] For ages, people have been dropping objects - pens, keys, coins - onto the floor, never to be seen again. Well, you just found them. All of them.
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"I was half asleep as I sat on the sidewalk and watched the people pass, my paper cup held steady and vertical through long practice. When I looked forward I saw their shoes, changing over the course of the day from business attire to trainers to evening wear. \n\nBut the best way to get money, I knew, was to make myself look up, to try and catch their eyes. Most of them looked away but a small fraction met my gaze, and a smaller fraction still dropped a coin or a dollar bill into the cup. I thanked them all politely. Not effusively - people didn’t like that, didn’t like to be confronted with how much I needed it. Of the few who wanted to help they wanted to complete the act and move on, with a sense of relief that they were living their lives and not mine.\n\nBut today I found it hard to focus, to keep my eyes upwards. I kept finding myself staring at the passing shoes and then my eyes would close and I’d be unsure if I had slept or not, trying to gauge the passage of time by the subtle changes in the light. \n\nMy thoughts wandered, back to working construction, back to school, forward to the fifteen minutes when I was 25 that I spent robbing a store out of pure desperation, and then the years in prison I spent thinking about it. A life that in almost all respects was not that different to others, it seemed to me, but had ended up in such a wildly different place.\n\nAnd then I thought of the pen. Usually I skipped around those images and memories, but today I was just too tired, had been sitting here too long to fight it. And once again in my mind it was my seventh birthday and my father was giving me the pen, a black plastic upper and a silver barrel, a button you clicked at the top to make the nib come in and out. Maybe not that expensive, in retrospect, but expensive to him and priceless to me. \n\nI took it out of the box almost reverently, feeling the heft of it, the unusualness of it. ‘Do you like it?’ he asked me, and I could hardly answer. It was something straight out of the grown-up world, a priceless thing. ‘Be careful with it,’ he said. ‘It’s a good pen.’\n\nWhen was it then that I dropped it? Maybe the same evening or maybe the following one; memory is so uncertain when it’s thrown off by emotion. The pen was in my hand and then it slipped and I saw it turning through the air, hit the brown carpet nib first, cartwheel sideways and under the couch, and then: \n\nIt just disappeared.\n\nHow I searched. There is no way someone could search harder for something, casually at first, then with more intensity, then with panic and tears because where could it have gone? It was right there under the couch! Only it wasn’t there. But how could it not be? My mother moved the furniture around and got a torch and we shone it everywhere, and I tried and tried to find it before my father came home. \n\nBut then his key was at the door and as soon as he came into the house he knew something was up and he sighed and said: ‘Where did you lose it?’ And he didn’t listen to me when I said it had gone under the couch, that it had to be there. And my mother didn’t speak up for me, didn’t tell him that it wasn’t my fault.\n\nI jerked awake in my sidewalk position, then closed my eyes again. It was starting to rain and I was only partially sheltered by the building behind, occasional drops landing on my face. How long had I been living like this now? A few years. Quite a few years. Longer than I meant to let myself. \n\nI relaxed back against the wall, trying to get comfortable, the sounds of the traffic and the people of the city seeming distant, unimportant. Time seemed to twist around me, childhood and prison mingling and getting confused. \n\nCouldn’t keep my eyes open, couldn’t look up to make them see me. Couldn’t stop myself from slipping into the most restful, most deep, most comfortable, most…\n\nMy eyes flicked open. \n\nThe light was dim and I was confused. It was silent. I felt stiff but warm, not as if I had been sleeping outside. And I wasn’t on the street any more. I was - where was I? \n\n‘Hello?’ I said, my voice creaky. \n\nI stood up. In each direction there was only dimness. The floor was of packed earth, like the inside of a cave, but no roof was visible. \n‘Hello?’ I said again, louder this time. There was no echo. The space felt huge.\n\nI listened intently but there was no answer, no sound.\n\nI began to walk. In that strange space it felt like I was not moving. But up ahead, I saw a dark shape on the ground. I felt fear at first, but then I could see what it was: a hat. I examined it, but there was nothing remarkable about it. I walked on and saw something else on the ground - a necklace. A little further past that was a coin, then another, almost like a trail but one that didn’t lead anywhere. I hurried now, further and further into the space, and soon the ground was thick with things - glove, scarves, hats, pens, coins, wallets, handbags, the occasional suitcase and backpack, even a few cars and boats. Some of the objects were very old, maybe even centuries, others were brand new. The further I went the thicker it got until:\n\nI saw the pen from a distance, sitting in a space on its own on the ground as though it had been left out for me. It was exactly as I remembered it. I picked it up, clicked it out, clicked it in, the sound strange in that place. I touched it, rubbed it, felt something elemental inside me. I put it in my pocket and then took it out again, held it close in my hand. \n\nI looked around, at the piles and piles of objects, randomly scattered everywhere in the dim silence. It had confused me at first, but I understood it now. I knew where I was. This was my place: \n\nThe place of lost things."
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[WP]It's been 18 months and no one has hit the Powerball jackpot. The total has increased to $3.5 billion dollars. Jerry has ignored the hype thus far. But today he feels lucky. He wakes up the next morning with an angry mob at his front door.
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"\"What's the deal with angry mobs?\" Jerry says as Kramer pushes himself through the crowd, his shoes skidding across the slick hardwood floor as he throws himself into Jerry's apartment.\n\"Jerry,\" he says, waving a tiny crumpled paper in his hand, \"I got the ticket!\" \n\"What do you mean you\"be got the ticket? I've got the ticket!\"\nKramer whips around, his tall hair jiggling with the force of his turn. \n\"Don't you hate when angry mobs just stand at your door and look at you?\" Jerry continues, pulling his sweater away from his neck and patting his lightly acid washed jeans for his ticket. \nThe laugh track rumbles as the scene cuts to black, a commercial fading in as I reach for the remote, forcefully smashing the OFF button with my finger because Seinfeld fucking sucks and is a poor excuse for a written television comedy. That's right, I said it, fuckin right me. "
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[WP] Years ago, you were granted an honorific knighthood by the Queen of England. This morning, you received a letter from Her Majesty the Queen: every living knight of the British Crown is being called to arms.
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"    *”This will not be a combative action,”* the letter read. *”You will be asked to use your rank and status to rouse public support for the effort. More details will be given at the palace.”* \n \n    There was more written on it, but I just skimmed through the rest. I looked for the paperwork from my knighthood; surely, there’s some clause that backs up the legality of being summoned by the queen. My phone started buzzing while I was searching, and I found it just in time. \n \n    ”Hey — er, Sir, I should say, just like old times, considering the circumstances. I just heard from another friend. Is it true? Do you have go too?” Jonathan. \n \n    ”Yes. I got the letter this morning. I’m working on my itinerary now.” \n \n    ”Are you going to be okay? I’ve never heard about anything like this happening. It can’t be legal.” \n \n    ”I think everything will be fine. Most likely, I’ll put on a nice outfit, make a few speeches around the world, then go back to New York.” I made a little small talk, then hung up. \n \n    Several flights and nearly a day later. Ian got me a room next to his, and we’re going to have dinner in the hotel restaurant. We’re meeting Her Majesty in the morning. \n \n    Ian shows up, leaning into his cane, white wood with a red gem at the collar, as he walks the long length of the room. I see it and I realize how old we’re getting. I straighten my jacket and embrace my friend. \n \n    Her Majesty enters, along with her entourage. We’re all standing, though many of us have certainly earned the right to sit. She gives us a speech, thanking us for being here, for taking the mantle of responsibility to be set upon us. The speech, while rousing, was devoid of detail. You learn patience with age, but I have responsibilities. \n \n    Her majesty exits and a young man, no older than fifty, starts dividing us up into groups, but separates Ian and I from the rest. Another man herds the two of us into a small room, where we are left alone for several minutes. \n \n    The Queen joined us. Neither of us have knees good enough to spring up like we should, but she waved us down as we attempted. “I’m going to get straight to the point, gentlemen. The letter lied,” she said, formality having left her voice. “Aliens. They visited the Americans in 1932. As you might imagine, they managed to screw up the instructions the aliens gave them and opened a box they were not to open. It contained this.” The queen opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a box, bright gold in color and the size of a large brick. “The Americans extrapolated much information from it, including information that lead to their atomic bombs. We’ve been informed the aliens are on their way and the President and I have come to a conclusion. This must be destroyed.” \n \n    Ian and I simply looked at each other for a moment, then turned back to the queen. “I apologize, Your Majesty,” I said, keeping my eyes down, “but what does that have to do with us? Is there no one else that could destroy it?” \n \n    As if anticipating this question, she spoke quickly. “Attempts have been made. We cannot figure out how to destroy it. We sent out the letters when we came to the conclusion. If the Sun doesn’t destroy it, then it will destroy anyone that tries to retrieve it, and the aliens *will* try to retrieve it from us here. That was clear, in their instructions. You will have the ship they left here, fly it to the Sun, eject the device, and return.” \n \n    ”I apologize again, Your Majesty, but why *us*?” I asked, a little panic setting in my voice. \n \n    ”Well, I think that should be obvious, shouldn’t it?” she said with a smile, then stood and left. Only after she was gone and Ian and I started discussing the bizarre event did one of her aides return. A pleasant woman in purple. \n \n    ”My apologies, gentlemen. I know an explanation is in order. Her Majesty’s health has not been good and we’ve been trying to keep it under wraps. A do-gooder, if you will, took to pushing her recall of all the knights and dames. We’ve mocked up the spaceship, and if you’ll be so kind, we’ll have her see you get in, send you two off with a flourish, then hurry her away before she expects take-off.” \n \n    I sat, thinking about this for a moment, but it was Ian’s turn to speak up. “Still, the question persists. Why did she choose *us*?” \n \n    The woman in purple took on the queen’s same expression. “It isn’t obvious? She imagined a spaceship and an indestructible gold object; he’s the captain and you’re the wizard.”\n"
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[WP] You find what appears to be an old iPhone 4 on the ground. You take it into your hands and open it, revealing it to be fully functional. Nothing about this would've been weird had you not been on Proxima Centauri b.
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"Abigail looked at the password entry screen. It overlayed a blurred background depicting some forest vista. Multiple years old notices from mobile games nearly choked the keypad, demanding the phone’s previous owner to return and procrastinate on their endless, repetitive levels. It was surprisingly at full charge, and the date was accurate to boot. A worn casing enveloped it, ready to fall apart, although the phone itself displayed only a few scratches. \n\n“This seems to be source of the veil tear.” Said a hushed voice from Abigail’s purse. The Rassophore peeked from the tampon compartment and gave what Abigail assumed was an attempt to look intelligent and composed. If the veil entity was in a human body it may have even worked, but doing this as it possessed her pet gerbil Genghis was just another reminder that he perhaps should not be relied upon for some things. In fact, many things. Like not stranding \nyou on a freezing exoplanet.\n\n\n“Shall I activate it?” It continued. \n\n “And rack up more ‘debt’ with you? Hell no.”\n \n “This human tool has been woven into the veil, I somehow doubt that an untrained novice could keep it intact, much less succeed.”\n \n“Then prepare to be surprised Rassie.”\n\n\nShe rose her hand above the touchpad, racing through combinations. She noticed her hairs stand on end. The barrier surrounding herself had performed remarkably, but it was already -30 C, and would only get colder. She wished she’d moved the tampons to the medicine pocket to make room for a sweater. The Rassophore craned Genghis’ head to get a better look, his eyes shining red and violet each. Abigail tried to look away, she loved Genghis too much to conflate him with the most self serving bastard the veil could offer.\n\nIt was the reason they were here. To escape from a ghoul *that was only after it*. She just had the misfortune of owing him some cosmically enforced favour. She’d been walking for nearly a day, thinking this would be a tear leading back home. Only for them to find this phone. \n\n\nDefinitely interesting.\n\nShe retreated to her thoughts. If the phone’s owner was capable of this, what else could he or she do? Could some of them be on this phone? Was this a one time visit, or a well worn path? Why was this left behind? For a moment she even forgot about the Rassophore. \n\nRassie...\n\nHe didn’t even *help* with the barrier! Probably forgot she needed to breathe, despite his ‘intimate knowledge of the lesser beings’.\n\nBefore she could be drawn further into her silent rant. A combination succeeded and the login drew back into a series of multicoloured apps. Abigail spotted a completely white one, simply labelled ‘travel notes’. \n\n“This looks promising” she whispered to herself. And clicked on it.\n\n\n—-\n\nFirst submission, feedback appreciated. Sorry for formatting (mobile).\n\nAlso...\n\n How do I make text \n Look like this?\n Right on top one another while leaving space.\n\n\n\n\n\n",
"The screen flickered on. It laid there in the sand, dust blowing out from every side as it shook. I stared at it in amazement, and stood, stiff in shock. On its face read simply, \"MOM.\" It kept sputtering side to side against the ground, dust puffing out from under it at regular intervals.\n\nI looked around. \n\nThe hills were as infinite as ever. My suit was warm, at least compared to the cold, toxic atmosphere. Dust breathed through the air, an everlasting sandstorm. When I first got here I felt like the sand clouded my reason. Now I'm used to the sand. But I still feel like I can't reason.\n\nAgainst my better judgement, I leaned forwards, examining it. It was only a couple of seconds, but time froze. I shook as I reached my hand forwards.\n\nI knew how these worked, I remembered. It felt like millenniums since I had touched one. I placed my hand against the frame of the device, and it vibrated violently in my hand. I jolted back like it was a shock pulsing through my hand. But even though I was unsettled by the foreign aspects of this known object, I forced myself to lift it up to my face.\n\nI had only seconds.\n\nI raised a gloved finger, and pressed it against the bottom of the screen, sliding to talk.\n\nThe vibrations stopped.\n\nI raised a shaky breath.\n\n\"Mom?\"\n\n\"Honey?\"\n\n\"I... I..\" I tried to form words, but the wind left my chest and I started to hyperventilate like I did when I was little. It left me speechless.\n\n\"Honey we've missed you so much. Your father and I, we can't stop thinking about you. We wish you were here.\"\n\nI couldn't formulate words.\n\n\"You can't imagine what it's like here without you, honey. It's so lonely here. Just the two of us here. We wish you were here so much. Can't you come back soon? You forgot to say goodbye when you left. We just wanted to see you one last time.\"\n\nTears streamed down my cheeks.\n\n\n\"We love you so much. We want to talk with you more, but we think we'd better go now. Be careful alright? We'll keep a plate set out for you when you get home. We love you honey.\"\n\n\"Wait!\"\n\nBut it was too late. The illusion was broken. The phone had faded from my hands. The voice was gone. I looked around. The hills were as infinite as ever, and I was alone.\n\nSound waves don't travel in space.",
"“So, you’re earth,” I say, sliding into the seat. \n\n“Earth,” he confirms, biting into the synthetic meat. “I don’t get to see humans in person too often. It’s nice.”\n\n“One day, they’ll be folded into the Empire. It’s inevitable.” I looked down at the holomenu and swiped on the most colorful sushi platters. “But it doesn’t seem like you’re waiting on any galactic politics to dip planetside.” I pulled out the phone, and slid it across the tabletop. The man picks it up gingerly. \n\n“None the worse for wear,” he muses. “I could get a case.”\n\n“How do you get back?” I asked, leaning forward. “The warp juice to get here was expensive. This wasn’t an act of charity. You’re the only human I’ve seen who’s been back to the surface. Ever.”\n\nHe leans back, smirking at me as he dabs some sauce from the corner of his mouth. “Chill, kid. I picked it up from a trader who came through. He had some earth gadgets, nothing too recent. Come on, surely you’ve seen those kind of guys.”\n\n“Course I have,” I reply. My eyes narrow. This man has information I want. If I want to get to Earth, to have a chance of seeing my real family, it starts here. “I know that they’re not going to risk selling computing hardware from a non-integrated planet. You think I haven’t tried to pick something like that up, just for kicks?”\n\nHe purses his lips and looks out the window. His face is barely lines, the outline of stubble cooperating with his cheekbones to mold his face into something handsome. His hair, long and rough for the fashions of today, could look at home in some retro travel ad. He was the kind of guy who probably flew subwarp just to show off his contrail. \n\n“It’s not great down there, you know,” he says, still not looking at me. “I could have risked living there. The Empire doesn’t actually give a shit about Earth or humans, and they won’t until they have at least the Mars base. It wouldn’t be worth the cost to them to send someone to track me down.”\n\n“I want to find my family. I don’t regret being raised like a spaceborn but I sure as hell want to see the life they had planned for me!” I point my finger at him. I get to the point. “I know they have tachyon sensors in the Oort Cloud. How do you bypass those? Don’t tell me you have a jumpdrive.”\n\n“I have a personal cruiser from the last standard decade, calm down,” he grumbles. “No jumpdrive to be seen.” He gives another glance out the window. We’re in a diner on the upper crust of Ulrar city, on the planet of Ounov. The lighting flickers as spacecraft and atmospheric vehicles hurtle past. This is a trade hub, home to a couple million but host to many more than that for the purposes of entertainment and rest stops. For the couple thousand humans, it had another significance: the closest legal waypoint to the Sol star system. \n\n“There’s a hyper drive splinter,” he says mildly. “It’s less than ten lightyears long. As long as your flight computer is up to par, you’ll be fine.”\n\n“The reward for a route on the hyperplane map is almost a million credits,” I say with my eyebrows raised. “You could have been a rich man.”\n\n“No,” he says mildly. “I like our planet undisturbed. If there’s a quick and easy route, the Empire might incorporate them tomorrow. Humanity isn’t ready.”\n\n“I’ll keep it a secret then.”\n\n“Good, ‘cause I’d track you down if you didn’t.” There’s a flicker of light in his retinal display. “I just transferred the coordinates.”\n\n“Much obliged,” I say, standing up. I spot my sushi waiting for me on the counter. The serving bot is waving at me patiently. \n\n“I’d prefer to talk longer, but I’m security on a tabanna shipment worth twenty mil,” I drawl as I walk past him to the door. “Always good to see an ape like myself.”\n\n“Likewise,” he nods.\n"
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[WP] The zombie apocalypse starts so you move to a remote area in Alaska to live a primitive life. You haven't had contact with anyone for the past 30 years, until you find two hikers in one of your bear traps.
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"A scream made my Bessie lift her head and let out a small whine, I pat her while I say ''What the fuck could make that noise?'' I take the pot I had on the fire to avoid burning the food inside it,exiting the house, the snow crunches under my boots, I load my rifle with a full magazine, making sure I have the rest with enough ammunition, I heard it again, a long, painful and unsettling, I follow it for 30 minutes, it's in an northerly direction. I pull out my bear trap map, I had mapped before the location of my traps so I don't loose them or forget where they were, I crouch behind a tree close to my trap, I see a man and a woman, in hiking equipment, the man has his foot in my trap the woman is frantically trying to free his lower limb, but my trap are made to keep the bear there, this traps need a tool I have, to open their ''jaw''\n\nI came from behind the tree, holding my rifle at the low-ready ''Who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my property?'' \nshe held her hands up, covered in blood, the man in extreme pain, said in almost tears ''P-please, d-don't shoot, w-we were just looking for a place to take shelter, we had seen the smoke from a distance and decided to come from the north, but we didn't know about the traps'' \n\nI had to make a choice...."
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[WP] A detective is interrogating a serial killer who has an extremely asinine reason for murdering 6 people
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"\"This is the guy?\"\n\nDetective Matthews scratched at his 5 o'clock shadow and sipped from his coffee. Glancing at his watch, all he could think about was the steak and potatoes his wife was making for dinner. He motioned for the door and a hand grabbed his shoulder.\n\n\"You're going in alone? The guys killed at least six people.\"\n\nMatthews released the hand from his should and walked through the door into the interrogation room. The man before him wore an orange jumpsuit. His shackles rang off the table as Matthews took a seat across from him.\n\n\"So... six people? That's pretty amazing stuff. Why come in and confess?\"\n\nHe sat there smugly. \"I can't take these people anymore. I need a place where there is structure and order. There is no order out there in the world.\"\n\n\"But six people? What did they do to you?\"\n\n\"What did they do? WHAT DID THEY DO?\" He went to stand up but was quickly pulled down toward the table by the cuffs. \"The first one, Tommy, kept walking on my fucking grass instead of the sidewalk!\"\n\nThe detective sat there writing furiously as the man just unloaded a verbal assault of confessions.\n\n\"Susan. Number two. She was the janitor at our work, always put the toilet paper on the roll the wrong way. George, I watched him cut his grass horizontal! Horizontal! Can you believe that?!\" The man was practically hysterical by now.\n\n\"And the others?\" Matthews had stopped writing at this point, dumfounded by what he was hearing.\n\n\"Jerry and Frank. They always drank Pepsi. Stupid fucks would just cracked open a can beside me at lunch.\"\n\n\"Rachel?\"\n\n\"Oh. Her. She was the worst of all. She would leave things on the table... with the lid half on. Didn't matter what. She got what was coming to her if you ask me.\"\n\nMatthews had heard enough. He stood up and walked out the door. The others crowded around him, being the seasoned officer and all. They asked questions about his opinion on the matter. \n\n\"Let him go.\" Matthews stated aloud. \n\n\"Didn't you hear this guy? He killed six people for no reason!\" A voice from the back piped up.\n\n\"No reason? Gentlemen, he has been doing us a service.\" Matthews went to exit the room entirely and glanced back over his shoulder. He lit a cigarette. \"Let him go.\"\n\n"
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[WP] The best thing about making booze that was supernaturally potent wasn't the money. Nor was it the prestige of your clientelle. You're in it for the delicious gossip.
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"Raxorvug the Destroyer pierced the counter with a sharp, beetle-like claw. The brown, armoured carapace shimmered slightly in the cosmic light with a sheen like oil on water—almost beautiful, but nevertheless off-putting by its very nature.\n\n“Easy there, Rax,” the Brewer warned. “Do that again and you can forget about being served.”\n\nDisgruntled clicks escaped the ancient god's spider-like mouth as he withdrew its claw.\n\nThe door to the bar flung open loudly, revealing the swirling abyss of the universe behind a tall, robed figure that stood there. The ancient mage stepped forward, his staff clocking against the floor as he walked and his beard rustling against his robes. “One pint,” Brakozar, Grand Sorcerer of Pim commanded, then clock-clock-clocked his staff over to the “wizards’ corner”.\n\nThe wizards’ corner was really just an alcove at the end of the bar that had been the preferred meeting place for masters of the arcane arts for millennia due to the positive alignment of something-or-other, during which time animal parts and spell components had infused the seats and tables with a little of their power and much of their stench.\n\nThe Brewer instinctively held his breath as he filled a pint-glass with his trademark fluid. Although he had come a long way from his days of being a mere human, the vapours alone were still strong enough to get him drunk in seconds. The Brewer carefully carried the drink around the bar and over to the Grand Sorcerer. The bottom of the vessel hissed slightly as the table began etching the glass; the wizards’ corner had been in a playfully acidic mood for most of the afternoon.\n\n“Rough day?” the Brewer asked.\n\nThe Grand Sorcerer slowly began draining the liquid through his beard, stopping only to say “I’ve had better.”\n\n“Want to talk about it?”\n\nThe Brewer had achieved quite a lot in his life—immortality, a successful business at the edge of the universe, and winning runner-up bartender-of-the-year in his home town twice, back-to-back—but none of that compared to the fabulous tales his clients regularly dragged in.\n\nThe wizard studied the not-yet-busy room. “You haven’t seen the Reaper have you?”\n\n“Not today,” assured the Brewer. “But he did leave his scythe here last night.”\n\n“Ahhh… that’d explain it,” the bearded figure nodded before drawing back his robe to reveal… nothing. From the hips to the collarbones floating above them, the entire middle of the Grand Sorcerer’s body was curiously absent. “I’m living on borrowed time, you see.”\n\nThe Brewer could not take his eyes from the empty space where the man’s chest should have been until the robe was pulled back. “What happened?”\n\n“You know that woman who was in here a few nights back? Long hair, really friendly?”\n\nThe Brewer frowned. “Aithnys? Anti-Matter Demoness? Dark grey skin?”\n\n“Ahhhhh…” Brakozar lowered his face sadly. “You… you knew she was Anti-Matter then?”\n\nThe door flung open again, and immediately the warmth drained from the room. The clack of bone on wood accompanied each step as Death appeared to glide over to the counter. The Brewer turned back to look at the Grand Sorcerer only to see an empty seat. From beneath the table, the wizard’s voice whispered “distract him.”\n\nThe Brewer returned to the bar to serve his new guest, deliberately standing further along than necessary so the Grim Reaper would need to face away from the wizard’s corner. “Good afternoon, my lord.”\n\nThe skull beneath the cloak simply fixed the barman with an expressionless stare.\n\n“The usual?”\n\nThe black hood nodded forwards. As the Brewer held his breath and began pouring out more of his potent concoction, his eyes caught a fleeting glimpse of the spotted pattern Brakozar presented as he crawled to the door, his undergarments exposed where the acidic chair had dissolved his robes."
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[WP] Humans are considered a fairly normal species by galactic standards; not exceedingly smart or strong, advanced or primitive, don't violate the laws of physics in any notable fashion. The only noteworthy thing about them is that nobody seems to know where they came from.
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"< static from a playing transmission> In the last several decades since the war with the Gragonath Republic human beings have been at War every single day fighting for the right to expand from the Sol system. Only a handful of extraterrestrial life has accepted them into the intergalactic Community some with open arms but most at arm length usually with a blaster between them. You see humans are nothing special in the galaxy we are perceived to be easy prey for the war-mongering Lords of the galactic community but there's one thing they have never found and that's Earth and that's the way it needs to be for our safety as a species is under constant threat from these barbarians though they may outnumber us, they may be smarter than us, they may be faster than us and stronger than us we as humans will always fight on for our rights to live, breathe and exist! This is a message to all captains if losing the fight warp to another location as far as you can from the Sol sector. (communication ended)",
"The old man seat his drink down, his blue calloused hand had a slight shake to it. \n\n“Humans?” , He asked, his voice resonating in the crowded bar. \nKal was seated with him, at the furthest back table in gorg’s. He was a long time customer of the place, nearly forty years of his life he had spent at these tables. It was a quiet place, not much buzz, which was why he liked it. He was seated across from the old man, drink in his hand. \n“Humans are a rare species.” The old man said. “They are perhaps the most incredible thing in this whole damned galaxy. They are a perfect balance, they are intelligent, but not geniuses, strong, but not champions. They are the epiphany of ordinary, but their culture is more diverse than an other civilization to ever exist. Perhaps the most remarkable thing about them however though, is that no one, not even them, knows where they came from. Someone saw the first one, and told his friends about it, the next day they were a regular part of the universe.” \n\n“But how?” Kal asked. “How can they show up out of nowhere and then become a part of our life? They come into peoples lives and touch them, and change them into new people. Hell, the entire top western frontier was built by Humans. The center of trade in the universe, and they treat it like it’s no big deal. And they aren’t anything special you say? You say they have average intelligence but then how, how are they so influential in our lives? And then after all this shit that they do they just go back into the dark? A human sighting these days is less likely than ever. How can that be explained.” \n\n“That’s what you have to understand. That’s the beauty of their empire. They are so average, that they can relate to everything. They have the capacity to feel every known emotion we know of.” \n\n“But how!” Said Kal, almost yelling now, “How can there be something in the universe that doesn’t add up? That doesn’t make sense? That’s just a construct of simple peop-“ he was interrupted by the sound of the bar door opening. \n\nA figure dressed in a sleek black outfit, with a visored helmet, entered the room. The figure walked over to the bar and sat down. He tapped two of his five fingered hand on the bar table, and the bartender reached behind and grabbed a beer. He slid it over to the figure. The figures visor retracted as he held the drink up to his face, revealing black hair and a pale face. Kal let out a low gasp, glancing at the old man. The old man looked terrified, his blue skin beginning to turn white. \n\n“No, no nononono...” he began to mutter. \n“What’s wrong?” It’s a human, in person, Kal said, as he stood and began to walk over to the man.\n\n“STOP.” The old man whispered. \nKal sat down, and looked back at the old man. “Do you know him or something?”, he asked. \n\n“ I know humans.” The old man said. “They are unpredictable, they aren’t hard wired like you and me, they don’t appeal to reason, they are driven by emotion. They are the only creatures in the fucking galaxy that have ever disobeyed the martial lawmakers.”\n\nIt was in that moment that Kal realized the bar was empty, except for the bartender, who looked extremely uncomfortable. \n\n“That’s right old man.” The human said, as he got up, and turned around. “We are CRAZY. Humans, as a species, must be fucking crazy if they want to do something, if they don’t follow orders to the point of barely being sentient and not having a FUCKING clue to what’s going on.” \n\nThe door was kicked down just then, and two officers entered. “ALEX PIERCE, YOU ARE UNDER ARREST” one of them shouted. Alex held up his arm, and a small compartment popped up, and a bullet flew out at one of the officers. It was immediately blocked by a heat shield surrounding the officer. Alex was stunned and amazed. \n\n“So you finally figured it out huh, you finally got a way to shut us down. To stop people from having their own opinion. Well, fuck me. Let’s go, officers. What’ll it be? Ten years in prison? Or how about community ser-“ one of the officers shot him. The human collapsed. The officers walked out.",
"The council chamber was silent.\n\nA single drop of sweat slid down John's neck. When he'd taken the job as ambassador, he'd been happy. His track record was stellar. He had helped diffuse conflicts all around the globe. His calm and poise was legendary; even in the most dangerous situations he was known for his reserve. Nothing fazed him. Not warlords, not terrorists, not even (on one truly horrible day) the threatening of his wife and kids. So when the Human Coalition needed an ambassador to send to the council, the ruling body that governed the tangled web of alliances and agreements that was the Milky Way, they'd picked him. And he'd thought he was ready.\n\nBut now he was just confused.\n\nIt was common knowledge that humans were ordinary. They did not fly, like the Orisi. They were not telepathic, like the Viscar, or hyper intelligent like the Fer. Nothing about their physiology, mental or physical, violated any of the laws of physics discovered by any sentient species. \n\nThey were normal. Mundane. Boring. Human. Only human. Nothing he'd just said should have surprised them. Not one word of the speech he'd given, written by Earth's most brilliant minds, about Earth's brilliant history, should've been anything they hadn't heard before. And yet this was the reaction he'd gotten; a deep, unsettling silence that seemed to drag on and on. \n\nFinally it was too much. He cleared his throat. \"Excuse me?\" he began. \"Is something the matter?\"\n\nFor a moment he thought he was going to be ignored. Then the Fer representative stepped forward, blue skin almost black in the gloom of the council room. \n\n\"You say you come from nothing?\" he asked. John nodded. \"That life on your planet arose by chance, and that your species, humanity, came about by happy accident?\" John was a bit unsure of his grasp of the common-tongue, but he as by far the most fluent human speaker and he was certain he understood. He nodded again. \n\nThe Fer hummed softly, a sign, John had read, of deep thought. And then:\n\"The Fer began when an energy being from another dimension thought to experiment in the creation of beings optimized for thought. The Orisi worship the gods the created them; incredibly powerful beings from outside the universe that manipulated events to bring about their existence. The Viscar trace their origin to the splitting of a vortex of psychic energy as old as the universe itself.\"\n\nThe Fer was pacing now, walking back in forth on the slight podium that was his council seat (for the Fer thought better when they moved, and to be Fer was to think, always). \"Every sentient species, every speck of life, every single biological organism this council has discovered since it's inception, was created. Everything, it seemed, was designed.\"\n\nThe Fer stopped, and fixed John with an unblinking, crimson stare. \"Except for you humans.\"\n\nJohn gulped. \"I'm telling the truth.\" he said slowly, forcing his heart to slow. The stakes of his meeting were indescribable. This was more than first contact. This was the discussion that would determine humanity's place in the galactic hierarchy for who knows how many years to come. \"As far as our scientists can tell-\"\n\n\"I know.\" The Fer said. \"The Viscar's telepathy long since confirmed the honesty of your species emissaries. And our review of the data your specialists delivered only supports our conclusion; that humanity is the first sentient species discovered truly native to this universe.\"\n\nNow it was John's turn to stare. He had not been trained for this. Nothing he'd ever done could have prepared him for this. \"What does that mean?\" he asked.\n\nThe Fer smiled the smile of someone used to answering questions. Of someone who had been the smartest person in the room for so long they'd almost forgotten what it was like to have a true peer, and had so come to love lecturing. John wondered what it was like to be the Fer ambassador, surrounded everyday by inferior intellectuals. Trying to shepherd a galaxy of what, from his perspective, must have seemed like children. A slight probe of thought caught his attention, leading it to the Viscar. He turned slightly, making eye contact with the telepath in a moment of shared empathy. It was lonely, they both knew. The Fer couldn't wait to go home. \n\n\"It means that you aren't a creation.\" The alien genius began. \"It means that you weren't put into this world, this dimension, by beings foreign to it. You aren't matter, molded into shape. You are what matter is capable of becoming when it is left alone.\"\n\nAnd here the Fer's smile changed. Shifted, from one of patience to one of unbridled curiosity. The grin of a profoundly bored soul that, after decades in a desert of tedium had finally seen something new.\n\n\"It means you humans truly are this world in sentient shape; the universe experiencing itself.\" John felt like wilting under the intensity of the Fer's stare, but pride kept him tall. He represented his entire species tonight, and he would feel no fear. \n\n\"And I find that very, very interesting.\""
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[WP] ‘Twas the night before Christmas, and Santa broke his back! But fear not, child of Midgard; Odin shall carry his sack.
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"The wind howled in a tempest of icy fury. It chilled him to the bone tonight. \n\n\"Oh please Nick, button up your coat! You'll catch your death of cold out here!\"\n\nMr. Claus did not enjoy the constant nagging of his wife, but at least he knew she cared. \n\n\"Please Jessica, I have been Santa Claus for nearly 2 millennia, I think I'll survive.\" The rotund man in the red suit let out a chuckle as he buttoned his coat.\n\nMrs. Claus reached for the sack of toys. \"Here, let me help you with the toys! They're getting too heavy for you, dear.\"\n\nWith a wave of his hand and a grin on his face, Santa said, \"Now, now dear. Let me be. I've done this hundreds of times...\"\n\nSanta reached down to heave the hulking bag, but he did not lift with his legs. In fact, Santa didn't lift at all. As he began to pull he felt a couple of loud POPS and yelled out in pain, \"YOOOOWWWWCH!!\" and fell to the floor in a writhing heap.\n\nMrs. Claus went into a panic, \"Oh no dear! Are you ok?! Oh I told you that sack is getting to heavy for you!\" But if Santa could hear her, he did not show it, for his agony was too great.\n\nBefore she could continue nagging, the wind suddenly stopped. Besides the moaning of Santa and the breathing of the reindeer, the only sound was that of hoofbeats. Like a horse, in full gallop. No, perhaps it was 2 horses? \n\nIt didn't take long for the Clauses to realize what the cause of the sound was. The 8 hooves of the horse stopped in front of the sleigh, and heavy boots crushed the snow beneath this mighty looking being. The man had a burly figure for someone so ancient. His beard was as white as the snow and went below his knees. His fierce visage looked like a man who had seen many wars; especially his one missing eye.\n\n\"Odin!\" gasped Mrs. Claus, \"What are you doing here?\"\n\nOdin stood over Santa, who was looking up at him pitifully, and spoke, \"My true wisdom allows me to see all events, including those here on Midgard. I have seen your plight, Mr. Christmas, and I have come to your aid.\" He lifted the sack with one arm and heaved it over his shoulder. \"I shall deliver your gifts tonight.\"\n\nSanta rolled onto his back so he could look up at the imposing figure. He hesitated to speak for a moment, completely flabbergasted by the events that had transpired, but then said, \"Oh thank Goodness, Odin! Christmas is saved! But tell me...\" His face grimaced in pain as he tried to stand, unsuccessfully. \"Do you know how to drive a sleigh?\" \n\nOdin smiled and laughed, \"Ho! Ho, ho, ho! There be no need for your reindeer, Santa. Sleipnir's 8 legs shall carry me faster than light around this realm. I may even break your record!\" Odin mounted his horse and turned to ride away. \"But please Santa, this is only for one night. You may wish to find a more permanent replacement in the future.\" And with that he rode off into the sky, gone in an instant.\n\n\"Well,\" Mrs. Claus said, \" at least he laughs like you, dear.\" She smiled as she helped her aching husband back into the workshop. \"Come now, I'll put some coco on.\"",
"\"So tell me, why are we doing this again?\" asked the Ruler of Asgard.\n\n\"As I told you, father, Nickolas the Generous, the man who brings us our fruits of immortality, also gives lesser gifts to dwellers of Midgard in this exact day each year. Unfortunately, he had an accident while working on some of them, and he can't deliver them to the people, or even to us to do it for him, so our dwarves are working for an entire week now, making substitutes.\" replied Thor.\n\n\"But why am **I** the one to deliver them?\"\n\n\"...Because you are the only one who resembles him enough for mortals to not catch on.\"\n\n\"Can't just Loki change his appereance and do this instead?\"\n\n\"No, we chained him in a cave with his son's insides, remember?\"\n\n\"Oh, right. Well, let's pack all this stuff and give it to mortals, or else our lonevility is going to be taken away.\"\n\nWith that, they sat in Thor's sleighs, and his goats took them through Bifrost to Midgard. When two gods arrived on first house's roof, Thor said:\n\n\"Okay father, now you must go through this chimney and leave those gifts under the tree.\"\n\n\"Can't I just go inside the normal way?!\" Odin screamed, worrying that he will get stuck because of all the feasts in Valhalla.\n\n\"No, chimney entrance is part of the tradition. I think getting through in the form a raven would still count, though.\"\n\nGod of Gods sighed, and flew inside the house. While leaving presents, he saw cookies on the table. Interested and hungry, he took one and ate it. He almost lost his consciousness, amazed at the taste.\n\n\"Oh, my! I've never tasted such thing before. And I thought mortals would never suprise me again. I need to visit them more often!\"\n\nGetting back on the roof, he asked: \"Alright, how many more?\"\n\n\"Let's see... about 9,300 more. At least in this country.\"\n\n\"What?! How are we going to visit every house in one night?! How the Nilfheim does HE do it?!!\"\n\n\"Calm down, dad. Nick does some time shenanigans every year to settle everything. As a side effect, as you probably noticed, our speech is getting more and more like present times' humans'.\"\n\n\"Wow. He must really like those mortals if he puts so much effort in helping them.\"\n\n\"Honestly, without him, they would be doomed. You see, gifts from gods not only has their material value. By giving them, by putting our divine effort into doing something for them, we are granting them good fortune.\"\n\n\"And I'm just taking them to Valhalla so they fight for me in Ragnarok... I'm so selfish... I need to be nicer for them... Well, let's finish this, so I can at least partially redeem myself.\"\n\n\nAnd the next day, children of Midgard had the most unusual Christmas in their lives: they got such things as battleaxes, shields, and even entire sets of plate armor- all made out of divine steel, unbreakable, and enchanted, so their parents couldn't get rid of them for the next five mounths, until normality of our world soaked the \"presents\" and dissolved their magic."
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[WP] Reddit Karma is now a cryptocurrency.
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"The Redditor by the name of u/chartreuseapple strolled briskly through the hallways of her karma corporation headquarters, walking back to her office from the lunch room.\n\nAs a Reddit user of seven years, she had been able to take advantage of all of the karma she had earned over the years. As soon as karma had been declared a cryptocurrency, she quickly invested her karma into building a corporation that could earn karma at a much faster rate than she could alone.\n\n\"Ma'am, we have a situation down in the r/aww department!\" chartreuseapple turned around to see her personal assistant, u/blergablerga, running towards her breathlessly. \n\nWhen the karma boom had begun, blergablerga had been in no position to profit from it. He'd only been on Reddit for six months, and had been too shy to post. Mostly, he had just lurked, and commented every once in a while.\n\nBut he'd applied for the position of chartreuseapple's personal assistant when she'd sent out requests for employees, and she had noticed his potential while interviewing him. Over the last six months, she'd helped him hone that potential, and now he was truly a force of nature in the generation of karma.\n\n\"What kind of situation?\" chartreuseapple asked nervously. With over 16 million users, r/aww was one of the largest subreddits on the site. A situation in the r/aww department could be the biggest disaster chartreuseapple's corporation had ever faced.\n\n\"u/purplefelt... he got downvoted into oblivion and back. We just lost over four thousand karma.\" blergablerga said nervously. \n\n\"What?!\" chartreuseapple exclaimed. \"How could this happen? Last I checked, he was posting pictures of his Dachshund, Mary. Why would he be downvoted?\"\n\nBut before blergablerga could even reply, the realization had hit her.\n\"Sabotage.\" She muttered. blergablerga nodded. There was only one karma corporation leader that would sink to such levels to beat chartreuseapple.\n\n\"Damn you, chartreuseorange.\" chartreuseapple muttered furiously. \"Damn you!\" \n\nu/chartreuseorange was her twin brother. When they'd been teenagers, newbies to Reddit, they would have friendly competitions to see who could get the most karma in a short period of time.\n\nchartreuseapple won every competition easily. Soon, their friendly competitions became heated and furious, as chartreuseorange became angrier and angrier after every loss. Their relationship became strained. As soon as they were old enough to go off to college, chartreuseorange and chartreuseapple went their separate ways, and the competitions ceased, for a time.\n\nAnd then, years later, karma became a cryptocurrency. On the day that the karma boom began, chartreuseapple created her corporation. A few days later, she received an email from her brother, the first one he'd sent her in years.\n\n\"I founded a karma corporation, too.\" It said. \"I will beat you this time. You'll be coming and crying to me when I've destroyed your stupid corporation, loser.\"\n\nchartreuseapple had dismissed her brother's threats back then. But now, she knew what his corporation was capable of doing. Mass downvotes could destroy everything she'd worked for.\nchartreuseapple wasn't about to let that happen.\n\n\"blergablerga, tell all of the department heads to come to the conference room. We've been sent a declaration of war. It's time to reciprocate.\" \n\nblergablerga nodded, a determined expression on his face. \"Right away, ma'am!\" He ran off as quickly as his legs could carry him.\n\nFeeling satisfied, chartreuseapple began heading towards the conference room. But as she walked, a sudden thought came to her. The karma boom had begun less than a year ago, but the governments of many countries, including the U.S, had already begun taking part in the trading and creation of karma.\n\nWhat if an entire country began downvoting the posts and comments of another country? The millions of downvotes a country could produce could irreparably damage an economy. \n\nAnd worse... how would the damaged country respond? Could the karma trade lead to World War III, in time?\n\nWell, that was none of chartreuseapple's concern at the moment. She kept walking, trying to ignore the growing dread she was feeling.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n",
"\"Currency has gone through many forms throughout its history,\" Steve Huffman stepped across the screen as the powerpoint behind him switched through a series of pictures on exchange economies in history, \"Humanity at its core demands trade. The ability to exchange goods and services without barriers has long been at the core of technologies march forward.\" \n\nHe stepped forward towards the crows as the lights dropped and swept the stage, \"The struggle has always been how we as a society define value. From trading cows for rope, to tying the value of money to gold or silver - currency marched forward into the future. Eventually we came to accept the word of governments as a form of value for currency. A type of fiat less likely to stall out on the side of an Italian road, or at least so we hope.\"\n\nHe stopped and laid a hand on the sleek glass podium at the head of the stage, \"and then everything changed.\" The slideshow locked on a Bitcoin logo, \"We're looking to change it again.\" \n\n\"In the past, inflation or deflation of a currency was largely controllable. How many bills did you print? How many cattle did you raise? How quickly could a state of the art processor complete a hash? Humans are less predictable, especially once a monetary component is introduced.\" \n\nSteve flashed a winning smile for the cameras, \"A lower bar of entry, an easily understood earnings mechanic, and a completely human interaction controlled environment. Karma is the future.\"\n\n----------------------------------------\n\nThe smiles likely slid slowly across their faces as the fingers flew over hundreds of mechanical keyboards throughout the world. 'Human Interaction' sounded great on an earnings call, but manipulating bots would be far easier. Prepare for a flood of spam the likes of which you've never seen, Reddit."
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[WP] You have a shrink/grow ray, but using it affects the resolution of objects as though you were resizing an image in Paint.
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"“There is a small problem”, said George. “Kasey’s a giant”.\n\nJerry widened his eyes. “She’s a giant? You didn’t filter for ‘pixie’?”.\n\n“No Jerr, I’m new to the whole online thing. She was one of the first I connected with and only later realised that there were filters. It’s too late to say anything, it’s just too awkward. I really want to meet her and she’s keen”.\n\nJerry burst into laughter. “Do I really need to say anything here Georgie? How would it work? You two are literally from different words. There’s a giant world and a pixie world. Maybe you can live together in the Netherspace with the hippies and elves. Eh, Elves are the worst. What are you going to do Georgie, you have to tell her?”.\n\n“Well”, started George, “I may have come across a Ray Gun. Simon found one near the border of the Netherspace. He’s tried it on a number of objects and he says it works. He’s been growing and shrinking objects for weeks with no problem. He’s even tested it on some forest creatures and they’re fine”.\n\n“Wow, this must be a pretty special lady for you to be zapped by tech from the Netherspace. I’ve heard mishap stories with Ray Guns. A pixie was hit by the rays, grew to triple her height then had an insatiable craving for tulips. It was weird - specifically yellow tulips”.\n\n“And they shrunk her back down and she stopped eating tulips”, retorted George. “She’s fine, and the yellow tulips of the world are fine. Like I said, Simon’s tested it. And he’s not charging me, I’ll just owe him one. I’ll save so many coins by avoiding treatment at the Netherspace. I’d eat a thousand tulips to meet Kasey”.\n\n---\n\n“Ready?”, asked Simon pointing the Ray Gun at George. They were standing outside with plenty of space in between.\n\n“I’m ready”, replied George.\n\n“Are you sure about this?”, asked Jerry.\n\n“Yes, I’m sure. Just do it!”.\n\n“Hey”, said Jerry under his breath to Simon. “What’s that blinking light on the gun?”.\n\nSimon looked at the Ray Gun at the tiny flashing blue light that blinked each second. “I don’t know, don’t they all blink? Maybe it’s low on battery?”.\n\n“Should you be using it if it’s low on battery?”.\n\n“Guys come on!”, demanded George.\n\n“OK, and in three... two… one! ”.\n\nSimon pulled the trigger and fired the gun at George. Streams of bright blue light grappled around George’s body and he expanded rapidly in size. Despite knowing what to expect, both Jerry and Simon burst out an excitable “Woah!” as their friend grew to a hundred times his pixie size. The blue lights faded and George looked at his hands.\n\n“Wh-what happened? What’s happened to my hands?”. George’s hands were covered in blocks. The outline of his hands and arms were jagged squares. As were his legs. His whole body was irregular.\n\nSimon looked at the Ray Gun. The light had stopped flashing. \n\n“It looks like you’re out of focus. Like you’ve been stretched-out poorly. Wow, even your shoelaces are blocks, Georgie!”.\n\n“I can’t go on my date like this!”, exclaimed George. “I don’t look like my profile picture at all!”.\n\n“Yeah that’s poor form, you really should look like your profile picture”, said Jerry. “I can understand using pictures from a few years back, but this is a whole other level”.\n\n“Reverse it now!”, George demanded.\n\nSimon raised his arm up and pointed the Ray Gun at giant George and pulled the trigger. Nothing, other than the click of the trigger. “Ummm...”.\n\n“Um, what? What happened?”.\n\n“I think it’s dead. It’s not firing”.\n\n“Don’t worry, we’ll get you sorted out in the Netherspace”, assured Jerry. “They can fix this. Do you have a craving for tulips?”.\n\nGeorge buried his block face into his block hands and whimpered. “I really wanted to meet Kasey!”.\n\n“Maybe you could wear a mask? Or go to one of those restaurants where they serve food in the dark. If you squint you look almost normal”, suggested Simon.\n\n“You should stop talking now”, said Jerry. He looked up at George. “Hey, can you give me a lift? We’ll get to the Netherspace faster with those long legs of yours”.\n\nGeorge gently picked up his friend and placed him inside his giant front shirt pocket. Jerry disappeared then yelped in excitement. “Look at this! You had a cookie crumb in here. It’s huge!”. Jerry did not say it out loud in sensitivity for his giant friend but Jerry really was having the best start of the New Year. "
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[WP] It’s Christmas morning and you go downstairs full of excitement, ready to open gifts. However, someone is stealing your gifts - it’s Jesus. “It’s my birthday, not yours,” he hisses menacingly as he runs away arms full of your gifts.
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"Jesus was pissed, and this time he wasn’t just going to sit and watch them pass around gifts that should have been his. He grabbed a pillow case and jumped into his holy Camaro. With a hoot and a holler, he slammed the accelerator and screamed out of heaven like a bat out of hell.\n\n***\n\nThe children feared Rogan, he was more than a mere bully, he held the keys to the playground. He controlled the Halloween candy, the lunch money, and it was Rogan who decided whose turn it was on the swings.\n\nOn Christmas morning, being the little bastard that he is, Rogan decided to see if he could catch Santa delivering presents. He pitter-pattered down the staircase into the living room, armed with an automatic Nerf gun. In the dark, he could just barely make out the shadow of a figure kneeling by the Christmas tree.\n\n“You were a little light on presents last year, Santa,” Rogan said to the figure while aiming down the sights of the Nerf gun, “I think you and I should talk about that.”\n\nThe black shadow turned suddenly, revealing a bearded, perfectly shaped face.\n\n“J...Jesus?” Rogan mumbled.\n\t\nJesus hissed menacingly, fingers curling like claws. Rogan took a step back but kept eye contact.\n\t\n“What the hell Jesus? Those are MY toys!”\n\t\nJesus hissed again and swiped at the air with one hand like a cat. Rogan swallowed the lump in his throat and brought the nerf gun up.\n\t\n“Look, I don’t care who you are. You’re not taking what’s mine.” At that Rogan began firing. Jesus scaled the walls like a spider, dodging every foam bullet by fractions of an inch. Rogan screamed a warcry and kept shooting as Jesus descended upon him from the ceiling. Jesus wrapped the pillowcase around Rogan and tied off the end.\n\t\nFeeling his opponent was subdued, Jesus went back to the tree and began unwrapping the presents. He laughed joyously when he opened one containing a toy Camaro. He stuffed the toy car into his pocket. Rogan peered through a hole in the pillowcase, anger swelling in his chest. When Jesus was finished, he went over to Rogan to release him before leaving.\n\t\nAs Jesus untied the pillowcase, Rogan’s hand shotgunned out of it and grabbed at Jesus’ pocket, grasping the toy Camaro. Jesus froze.\n\t\n“This is what’s going to happen if you want this Camaro to stay in one piece,” Rogan said, his voice flat. “You’re going to walk over that wooden beam.” Rogan pointed at the load supporting beam that ran up the far wall. “Then I want you to put your hands up in the air. I’m going to get some nails and a hammer from the garage. You can probably guess what will happen next.”\n\t\nJesus was horrified, but he couldn’t resist that little toy Camaro. It was an exact replica of the one he drove in heaven. Seeing the boy’s leverage and understanding the firmness in Rogan’s voice, Jesus complied. The nails were driven into his wrists and through his ankles, attaching him to the beam.\n\t\n“Now watch the consequence of your actions unfold,” Rogan said, his face devoid of any emotion. Rogan picked up the hammer and began smashing the toy Camaro until it was nothing but little pieces of plastic. \n\nJesus hissed and spat, his anger growing immensely. Rogan took the nails out of Jesus and stared at him in the eyes.\n\t\n“The bible says that you will judge me one day. I know you will remember tonight. I too will remember it and laugh as I shovel hot coal in hell.”\n",
"\"Not cool Jesus,\" I say not bothering to flip the lights. He's illuminated perfectly with flashing Christmas lights and his glowing vestiment. Red lights flash changing his mien into the devil.\n\n\"It's my birthday,\" he sneers.\n\n\"What happened to there is more joy in giving than receiving? \"\n\n\"I'm giving to myself. \"\n\nI glance at the fifty pound tuna thawing on the kitchen counter, plan forming in my mind. Thank you large families. Is Jesus mind reader? He can read the hearts of men like Santa but does he know what I am thinking. Red, yellow, green, green, black, shoe, shell, white, seventeen, I repeat in my head. Hoping it drowns my other thoughts. \n\nTurning to Jesus, who has continued his gift robbing escapade and is currently shoving the Darth Vader mask I received at a Buckethead concert and was giving to my cousin, into a tiny leather pouch. It disappears into the tiny compartment which under normal circumstances would never fit. But he's Jesus and shoving large items into impossible spaces is like breathing to him.\n\n\"I will race you for them.\"\n\nJesus pauses, the corner of a Barbie playset inches from the pouch opening. He eyes me and raises a dark brow.\n\n\"We'll start here,\" I continue pointing to the counter, \"who ever makes it to the tree first keeps the presents, all of them,\" I emphasize. \n\nHe stands, smoothes his ever-glowing robes and says \"Deal,\" sticking out his palm.\n\n\"No miracles.\"\n\n\"Fine, fine.\"\n\nWe shake, his hand is like a doctors, cold and impersonal. We assume runners position, left hand touching the counter and heel against its wall.\n\n\"On the count of three,\" I say.\n\n\"One,\" I count.\n\nJesus blasts off like the whip of the executioner is at his heels. In the same moment I grab the frozen fish with both hands and with all my strength bludgeon him. I knew he would cheat, he is stealing Christmas presents after all. He collapses into an unconscious heap. If he can be crusified, then he can be knocked out.\n\n\"Well done my child,\" a voice intones to my right.\n\nI jump swinging the fish in reflex, it hits nothing but air. I look around and see a very familiar figure sitting on the lazy boy. In fact, his poster hangs on my door.\n\n\"Jimmy Hendrix!\"\n\n\"No my child, it is I, God.\"\n\n\"Oh.\"\n\n\"Your disappointed, why? Most fall at my feet in my presence.\"\n\n\"Jimmy Hendrix is my God.\"\n\n\"Blasphemy. I shall not smite you out of gratitude. Thank you for stopping my Son. He is still angry at his crucifixion and thinks the world owes him.\"\n\nHe bends smoothly at the waist, picks up his Son and tosses him over his shoulder like a bag of laundry. \n\n\"Toodles,\" he says disappearing into blinding light. My eyes take a full minute to recover. \n\nHeh, I knocked Jesus out with a fish, how ironic.",
"*Not again.*\nI dashed off after him, my slippered feet crunching through the snow. Other than the chase, this was a picturesque Christmas scenery. Jesus was a lot faster than I thought, but then again, he's Jesus.\nI saw him run up to my neighbor's super high fence. My neighbor was a grouchy old man, didn't want kids or big animals to get in to his perfectly manicured lawn, but I don't think Jesus really cared. In fact, Jesus didn't care about the fence at all. He just flew over it.\n\"This isn't even fair!\" I yelled at Jesus. I went the hard way and attempted to climb the fence. I guess I was really motivated, because I got over the fence so fast even he was impressed.\nWe kept going like this for a while, Jesus widening the gap, probably due to flight (why didn't he do that right off the bat? I mean, it was the clear advantage) and me, running barefoot after him. When did I lose my slippers? \n*Later.*\nEventually Jesus rounded a corner and I thought I would lose him, until I heard a sound I could only describe as a violent jingle. I ran up, and what to my wondering eyes should appear, but a sprawled out Jesus, and Santa holding a beer.\n\"Oh hey there, Dave. I got Jesus this year!\" said Santa. I didn't hear any slur in his words, so I could only assume this was his first drink. I don't blame him, he had a busy night.\n\"Thank goodness, he almost got away with the presents this year. Again.\"\n\"Seriously? You should really put a lock on those,\" came the response from the jolly old dude.\n\"Well apparently our top of the line security system doesn't even work.\"\n\"Does your insurance cover theft?\"\n\"I'm not sure, there could be a clause about Jesus.\"\n\"Fair enough.\"\nSo, I thanked the big red guy and gathered up my kids' presents and went back home. The kids were happy to see the presents were returned and my wife was glad I got back without hurting myself like last year, and the rest of the Christmas was quite merry.\n\nNever did find my slippers though.",
"I awoke to the sound of movement in the living room and the clanging of Christmas ornaments as whomever made the noises shifted our pine tree from side to side, desperately trying to reach the presents that were sitting in the back. For a moment I smiled, believing that the children had gotten up early and were no doubt waiting for me to join them by the fireplace. I rolled over to look at my wife, ready and eager to start the festivities, only to be reminded that both she and the kids weren't there.\n\n*That's right,* I thought to myself, *\"They're on their way back from Shanghai at the moment.* My heart stopped, but the sounds coming in from the living room continued. As quietly as I could manage I jumped out of bed, tiptoeing over to the closet just as soon as my feet hit the floor. Carefully opening it so as not to make a sound, I reached up to the high shelf, taking down the locked case that contained a weapon.\n\nThe case opened with a loud click, and for a moment I stopped, waiting to see if it had been noticed by whomever had entered my home uninvited. Yet the sounds from downstairs continued as if the one who made them only had one thing on their mind and nothing else. I let out a shallow breath, then lifted the lid to reveal a Colt Python. Its polished surface was a welcome sight in that moment, and feeling it my hand I felt my confidence bolstered. Even so, I prayed that I wouldn't have to use it.\n\nI dashed into the hallway and pressed my back against the wall opposite my room. Still unnoticed, I crept towards the railing leading to the staircase, where I could overlook the living room below. The noise only intensified. Wrapping was now being torn away. At this rate there'd be no gift left unscathed, and I wasn't going to let some would-be thief ruin my families Christmas. Peeking over the railing, I caught a glimpse of perpetrator. All at once, the color left my face.\n\nI recognized him almost instantly, but could scarce believe it was really him. Indeed, as I ducked back behind the wall I wrestled with that thought, trying to convince myself that whomever was down there had to be a stranger with an eerie resemblance and a matching outfit. Telling myself this, I raised the weapon on high and, turning around the corner, dashed down the stairs. He turned just in time to see the weapon pointed at him, and when he did that's when I knew it was true.\n\nIt was Jesus.\n\nHello there Quán, he said in that familiar Mexican accent. \"Are these for me?\" That snide smile he was known for crossed his face just then, and that was the last bit of confirmation I could have needed. I grimaced.\n\n\"What the fuck are you doing here Jesus?!\" I yelled through gritted teeth. \"You're supposed to be in prison god damn it!\"\n\nJesus chuckled. \"What the fuck am *I* doing here?\" he asked. \"In *my* house?\" he stepped forward, but stopped when I cocked the revolver. \"This is my house Quán,\" he said. \"That girl...\" he pointed to a picture of my wife and children hanging on the wall. \"That's my wife. Those are *my* kids. This is *my* birthday, and those gifts are mine, not yours!\"\n\n\"They're mine now,\" I said, returning with my own sinister smile. \"Mei is my wife. Those children are *mine* now. They call *me* papa. They don't even know who you are anymore.\"\n\n\"And whose fault is that!\" he screamed.\n\n\"It's yours puto,\" I replied coldly. \"Yours for being too trusting. Yours for being too nice. Yours for thinking you could have everything I always wanted and have a good life.\" I spit in his direction. \"It was so fucking easy convincing Mei what a piece of shit you were after the cops came for you,\" I taunted.\n\n\"I'm going to kill you!\" he yelled. I fired a shot into his left knee just soon as the words left his lips. I smiled as he cried out in pain. *Had he really come here so unprepared?* I thought. The idea made me erupt into laughter.\n\n\"Jesus, what on earth made you come all this way without so much as a plan?\" I said, kneeling over him. The barrel of the revolver was still pointed in his direction. \"I'd imagine after making the world think you were a drug-dealing child predator for fifteen years you'd come back with a vengeance like a real life Batman yeah? But look at you.\" I watched as he struggled to get up using his good knee, but kicked him hard in the face before he could, knocking him hard onto his back.\n\n\"Estúpido,\" I snarled. The look of rage on his face was priceless. Through his sputtering I thought I could hear him trying to make something out, so I listened.\n\n\"What makes you think I didn't?\" he said, suddenly laughing at me through broken teeth.\n\nAnother loud bang rang throughout the house, and just as soon as it did I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. Dropping to my knees I let go of the gun, which Jesus quickly snatched from the floor and pointed in my direction. From behind me I could hear the footsteps of someone quickly approaching the both of us. When I glanced up and saw who it was, my heart sunk.\n\n\"Mei...\" I muttered.\n\n\"You son of a bitch,\" she cursed at me, glaring. There was a cell phone recording in the hand that didn't hold her weapon. For a moment I was proud of her--it's something I would have done. In the next moment, I was scared. I didn't like that feeling. There were sirens in the distance, and I was starting to lose consciousness.\n\n\"Merry fucking Christmas cabrón,\" I heard Jesus say to me with a loud laugh. Then I hit the floor."
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[WP] No matter how many plagues we have sent to their planet. No matter how many invasions we have launched. Humanity always seems to survive, solely out of spite.
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"This is the ninth invasion we sent to their planet. The largest fleet ever mustered in this quadrant hangs in orbit between Earth and their Moon, lobbing plasma bolts at the blue and grey world below. Eight months of this nonsense, and the Humans haven't surrendered. \n\nEvery other civilized planet would have done so in days, but *nooo*, we had to get stuck in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere with a species more akin to *weeds* than the apes from which they descended. They would show up anywhere and everywhere, especially when you least expected them, and proceed to wreak havoc on everything within a kilometer radius.\n\nThis was utter bullshit, and high command knew it. But the humans were already enough of a logistical nightmare while under siege; nobody back on Karelos wanted to find out what could happen if they were left to their own devices.\n\nThe first invasion force dropped incendiary ordinance on the capitols of every major nation-state (because of course they still had those). The Humans retaliated by dissolving their nation states and lobbing more cloaked nuclear warheads than the point defense station could handle. They somehow managed to incapacitate the fleet, who jumped back to Karelios.\n\nThe second fleet, which arrived six months later, glassed a quarter of a continent before being chased off with a hail of railgun rounds.\n\nThe third was put out of action when the bioweapons they intended to use on Humans *somehow* escaped their containers.\n\nThe fourth was overrun by a mutant fungus native to Earth, picked up when a piece of debris from the third fleet was drawn in for analysis.\n\nThe fifth was *boarded*, captured, and used to repel the sixth.\n\nUpon arrival of the seventh, one entire battle cruiser defected to the Human fleet before being disabled by loyalist plasma fire.\n\nThe eighth fleet watched a repaired and hardened version of the battle cruiser from the seventh mow down a dozen vessels of a heavier weight class using what appeared to be a cross between a plasma torch and a chainsaw. The oddball starship was eventually destroyed, but then again, so was most of the eighth fleet.\n\nAnd we were the ninth. Six thousand vessels parked two hundred thousand kilometers from Earth, raining hell on a ruined world.\n\nThe hodge-pudge Human defense fleet was entirely destroyed in hours, with minimal losses for Karelios. The artillery was gone within a week. But we were here for eight months already, and the Humans still refused to surrender. Half of their world was glass, and the other half was ocean, and these stupid weeds still failed to understand their situation. They had the audacity to refuse the demands of our glorious emperor--\n\nI hadn't heard him enter. I felt the cold steel of a Human knife against my airway before even realizing he was here. An impossibly gruff voice spoke to me in my own tongue.\n\n\"Which of these carries fuel?\"\n\nHe gestured with his free hand to the three bulkheads directly in front of us. How had he even gotten in? We were so far removed from Earth, not to mention the sixty thousand marines on board--\n\nHe spoke again, this time with frightening intensity.\n\n\"I will not ask you again. Which of these pipes carries fuel?\"\n\nI pointed to the rightmost tube.\n\nHis grip on the knife relaxed, but he stood behind me all the same.\n\n\"I don't believe you.\"\n\nBefore I even had time to squeal, my voice was cleaved in two by his utility knife. I collapsed to the floor, choking on my own blood, struggling in futility for a single gasp of air that never came. I watched as he stuck two bricks of what had to be explosive to each bulkhead, before settling on the leftmost one, gesturing to it. He exposed his white teeth. \"This one.\"\n\nHe was right.\n\nHe checked a device on his wrist, pulled a small pressure suit out of his backpack, and suited up. He tapped his wrist, speaking a few words in his own language before securing his helmet. His hand hovered over a small box attached to his belt for a moment, and then he smacked it, setting off the paired explosives on the three bulkheads. My body was thrown backwards by a blinding flash before being dragged out into the blackness. Meanwhile, my Human friend was holding on to a control panel, flashing me that same toothy face through his polarized visor as I rocketed past him into the cold vacuum of space.\n\nI watched in horror as a thousand other ships were disemboweled in seconds, reactors venting fuel as the carriers and destroyers slowly spun out of formation and listed into each other. Millions of Karelians were dead or dying, choking without their life support. Small arms fire erupted as hundreds of suited humans jetted in and boarded ships as far down the line as I could see. They threw satchel charges at bulkheads and shot breacher rounds through thick laminated windows, ejecting thousands of unsuited crew.\n\nI was blacking out, succumbing to my wounds. I had seconds left, enough for one final thought. My mouth opened, soundlessly, as my lungs filled with nothing, my torn diaphragm still operating despite the lack of pressure.\n\nI had one final phrase, one last ode to these unconquerable beasts from hell, the soldiers without starships that had managed beyond all reason to get all the fucking way out here to decimate the ninth fleet, using jet packs, guns, and grenades.\n\nNobody could hear it, not even me, but it had to be said nonetheless, out of grudging respect for our adversaries.\n\n\"*Fucking weeds.*\"",
"\"Our method of forming alliances has lasted for millennia and in it's entire history less than 5% of our territories have chosen to leave the union. Most civilizations can expect a huge economic boom once we introduce them to the inter-galactic market, and we think your species in particular will can fully admire the peace our allied civilizations enjoy under the alliance.\"\n\nI straightened in my chair a bit. Did Ambassador Taa-ko just accuse humanity of being savage? I learned a long time ago that the decorum and formality humans like to impose at these things wasn't recognized at the interstellar level. Still, this was being broadcasted across the solar system, so I decided to buy a moment of time before I replied.\n\n\"Cofee?\" I offered.\n\n\"Oh. Actually, I'm ever so sorry, I know that these talks are happening 'over coffee'... But just before I arrived I was informed that this drink would be toxic to my species. Something to do with the liver.\"\n\nI nodded and poured a drink of water instead. \n\n\"Ambassador Taa-ko, every civilization loves peace,\" That was a lie. The Boorditoahs and the Nahat-Chohos were two good examples of civilizations that would never live without mass bloodshed while at the same time living free. Nevertheless, I continued. \"... and while most humans educated in our own history will agree that we've had some bloody centuries, even when left to ourselves, nothing we've done among ourselves even compares to what we've gone through in the past 2 centuries. Since making contact with extra-terrestrials, we've fought off *twelve* major invasions. The average person doesn't even try to count the minor scrimmages. Our colonies on our Moon, our sister planet Mars, and Saturn's moon-\"\n\n\"We understand your hesitance.\" Taa-ko jumped in. I darkened my eyes as he cut me off. He seemed to fail at picking up most non-verbal ques. \"But under the alliance militant actions between allied civilizations is strictly forbidden and the protection we provide from external threat is... Well, it's without match. Nine of humanities previous enemies have already joined and we expect a tenth before your own calendar system clicks over into the next year. Oh! You have looked over how the alliance's calendar system works, yes?\"\n\n\"Hmmm, yes. Ambassador Taa-ko, can I just be frank with you? We offer you economic advances and a peaceful life, but from the way we interpret your history, it seems once a world has entered the alliance you bring in your own laws with allow you to legally plunder them, and when they choose to rise up you use your military's \"protection\" to shut them up or stamp them out. \n\n\"Well that-\" The ambassador piped up, but it was my turn to interrupt him this time.\n\n\"So to hear that same sales pitch doesn't really answer the questions most people want answered at this point. What do you get out of it?\"\n\n\"I... To say that we 'stamp out' our-\"\n\n\"Taa-ko we're not going to resolve /that/ issue today. Now, nobody offers something for nothing. How does your alliance benefit from humanity joining it? What do you get out of it?\"\n\n\"... Madam, humanity has fought off *twleve* major invasions the past 180... Hmm, no. You used your calendar. Two centuries, yes?\"\n\n\"Twelves major invasions. Two centuries. Yes.\"\n\n\"Well, that's impressive. You won against the Boorditoahs and the Nahat-Chohos.\"\n\n\"You want us as soldiers.\"\n\n\"What!\" Taa-ko chuckled. \"Um, no. I don't think you'd... I don't think humanity would be well suited to our military. No, I'm sure you've already been introduced to some of our Ngas? Their station is very similar to your... I think a duchess would be similar. Well, they have quite a bit of influence over our upper classes, and not too long ago the Nga, Chi Micha, made the point that humans would pair very nicely with children. You're definitely up to the task of protecting any child that you've bonded with, and we've seen the way you raise your own children. Your species has gentleness and loyalty.\"\n\n\"You want us as nannies.\"\n\n\"I'm familiar with that human role actually. It's not exactly right. You see nannies as employees. What the Ngas -- and well, our whole upper class, really -- have in mind would carry more intimacy and less responsibilities. You'd almost be a part of the family. You'd be an extremely valued member of the household, not just for your services, but for your companionship. Housing, meals, and medical would all be taken care of for you.\"\n\n\"... I think I\"m beginning to get the picture.\"\n\n\"Not to mention your hair.\"\n\n\"Our hair?\"\n\n\"Yes! It does not stop growing. I've seen humans who have hair that reaches the ground even when they're standing. Chi Micha Nga said that if her family had humans that she'd never stop brushing and braiding their hair. Actually, do you mind?\" Taa-ko out to stroke a locke of my hair. I jerked out of his reach my jaw slack. I looked into the camera.\n\n\"They want us as pets.\""
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[WP] A man kills himself to escape his constant, vivid and terrifying nightmares that occur whenever he falls asleep. To his horror, he wakes up - and realises that he is now eternally trapped in the nightmare as an afterlife.
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"The man awoke in a room, lighted only by a single, orange bulb that hung the ceiling by a narrow thread. From what he could see in this room, it had cement walls, the same length, same height, and no door. The lightbulb, swinging ever so slightly as if pushed by some nonexistent breeze, kept flickering, and with it, shadows began to dance on the walls.\n\nThis place, this feel. It was as if he had been here before, in another time. He couldn’t remember, all that he knew was dread. And that this place, something with this place, was bad. And it wasn’t just the bad of dropping your wive’s favorite teacup on the ground, or even the grief of a losing a loved one. It was like a crawling sensation, tingling within the very essence of his soul; it creeped under his skin; scratched at his eyes; tore at his hair. It was feeling you get when everything is over, and you need to wake up! \n\nIt was coming, oh he knew that. He didn’t know what It was, or even if It was a thing. He just the feeling. He quickly scurried into the corner, in a fetal position. If It came, there would no stopping it. It would consume, lay waste, torment until eternity. \n\nYet a small part of him hoped that this was a dream. Although when he thought about it, he realized he did not know what a dream was. But it felt like this, it WAS this. Or it should be. That feeling again. But with more. He had felt it before, he had been here, lived here, dreamt here, died here. But he hadn’t died here. He died there, out. What out he also did not know. The last thing that he knew other than the feeling was that sense to end the dream. It was tearing him up, as it was now, but it had gotten worse. Oh it had. But he would show them. \nHe didn’t know who to show. \nBut he would still show them! \nShow them what? \nEverything! Pain torment! They would feel pain, and anguish, loss, grief, they would want to die but they couldn’t escape it!\n\nWas that him now? In this dimly lighted room, with a man, alone and scared, it could be that man. Maybe he was every man, woman. Waiting. Was he dead? Or dreaming once again. Perhaps he had been dead the whole time and this was it. Maybe he was destined to continue this, waiting for something horribly unknown, that might never come, but also could. Maybe it had been with him always, maybe it was with everyone. Dreaming. Dead. Alive. Life, love, happiness. And under it, dread, hatred, grief. All life led to death, but did death lead to life? No matter, for it was done. Not done, in progress, never done. This man sat, alone.",
"Every night. Every damn night.\n\nIt's been happening for months, now. The same dreams. The same nightmares. They're so real. In my dreams I wake in my bed to the sound of it coming slowly through the door. Under the door. Sounding like plastic or paper crinkling quietly as if being unrolled by some unseen hand. Always coming closer. \n\nSometimes in these dreams I try to look at it, but most of the time I just can't bring myself to. Even if I hide myself under the covers I can feel its presence in the room. Ever closer. I can feel its eyes on me. It knows I'm right there. And why wouldn't I be? It's the same damn nightmare every time. At the start I tried sleeping on the couch, sleeping in hotels, or at friends houses. Nothing changes. I've tried therapy, pills, meditation, and seen spiritual leaders. \n\nAlways the same.\n\nIt gets tiring after a while, so that's why I tried to put an end to it. With the empty bottle next to me on the bedside table, drifting away into the eternal sleep, my only thought: Come and get me this time...\n\nDark.\n\n...\n\nCrinkle crinkle.\n\nOutside the bedroom door. There's no way!\n\nCrinkle crinkle.\n\nSlowly moving under the door into the room. Will I never be rid of this?\n\nCrinkle crinkle. \n\nEver closer, ever threatening. Full of hate and anger. Heart pounding, knowing this time there is no way I will wake from this, I turn my head to face it. To see its shapeless mass as is crawls, almost slithering, across the room to the bed. It is close enough now that I can hear a second sound accompanying it. One I'd never heard before. A quiet wheezing, which is becoming more frantic as it inches closer and closer. It sounds excited, now. As it crawls up the bed I hear it breathe rapidly and loudly as it crawls upon the sheets. \n\nIt's never gotten this close to me before. Normally by now I awake, disappearing from this creature's world for another day. Not this time. This time I have no control, no out, no way of returning to the existence I was so tired of just moments ago. So close, yet so far. \n\nMy heart beats quicker and quicker as I feel its weight on top of me. The combined sounds of the crinkling and raspy breathing are maddening. I can almost feel it reaching my throat. Slowly tightening.\n\nJust then, something unexpected.\nA sharp jolt runs through my ribs. Through my heart. I can't tell if this is the creature's doing, as it seems to have been disturbed by it as well. It moves faster now. I am completely pinned down under it as it moves towards my face. I can feel its sharp frantic exhalations drying my eyes. \n\nAnother sharp jolt and for a brief moment the sounds of the creature disappear and I see people crowded around me. Surgical masks.\n\nThe crinkly sound is back and half of my face is covered. The creature suddenly tightens down upon me, as if I had momentarily escaped it's grip. I will be stuck in this state of unbreathing for the remainder of my consciousness, however long that will remain. No air to breathe in. No air to scream out.\n\nAnother jolt to the chest brings another flash of another place. The people again. Machines beeping. And someone crying. I feel the bed that I'm laying on lift underneath me and carry me to another surface just to my side.\n\nI hear the crinkling again. Now I am on the floor next to the bed and I am no longer covered by the creature. The frantic breathing is now an angry, hollow roar of rage. I have somehow escaped the creature's grasp and can hear it moving towards me once again. It slithers down the side of the bed at a quicker pace than before. It was savouring its time before. This time it wants me before I disappear again. \n\nDark.\n\nI slowly wake to the sounds of machines beeping and pumping air. There are fewer people in the room this time, and the urgency is no longer in the air. I am alive, but has anything changed? Was I really dead before, or was I in a coma? If not, will death, when it does come, finally release me from the nightmare? Do I still have to face the creature in my nightmares every time I sleep?\n\nEvery night? Every damn night?",
"Two months ago, my wife hugged me. “We’ll get through this” she said. Then I had a nightmare where I was sleeping next to a monster. It buried its claws in me. It burned, but I fought back. I had my hands around its neck when it cried for me to wake up. She left the next day. I don’t know where she went.\n\nOne month ago, I fell asleep at work. Just a quick snooze. Then there were bees in my head, and voices in my ear. A scritch scritch scritch of talons on my scalp, and the bees burt loose. Little Connor bits go everywhere to be snapped up by the crows. I was fired for one to many screaming fits.\n\nLast night was a doozy. It’s worse when I’m hungry, and when I’m cold, and lately I’ve been experiencing a lot of each. Ants came through the window. I couldn’t move as they ate me. I woke up on a surgery table. They took my feet and it didn’t hurt. Then my knees, thighs, waste. Still no pain.\n\nAs the blue gloved hands reached my chest, I felt my breathing get ragged. Then all at once I felt the pain, then I woke up.\n\nNo hesitation. No indecision. No holding back. There’s only one way to end this.\n\nKnife from the kitchen. My wife hid them all, to stop me from doing something like this. I kept one secret, taped below the table. \n\nNo hesitation. No indecision. Don’t even think about it.\n\nThey say to go horizontal not vertical, but I don’t think that applies to your neck.\n\nThin line. Thick red. Thin red. And it's over.\n\nI wake up in my bed.\n\n(Part 1) r/StannisTheAmish"
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[WP] The edges of the universe rested comfortably against the beast's ribcage, held firm by unforgiving lungs. Time was naught to it, but not to us. Embraced in eternity, we made our peace before the beast exhaled.
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"Beast was always such a derogatory name for a generally nice but hairy individual named Alfred. Alfred was his Christian given name of course. We mostly resorted to calling him “beast” when we weren’t getting what we wanted. Humanity resting on the asthmatic lungs of an unpredictable creature named Alfred was a design flaw, but we try to make the best of it. \n\nAlfred stood a full 10 light-years by 5 light years with the worst bronchial tubes in all the multiverse. Having a universe wedged in between his ribs certainly didn’t help. With great power comes great responsibility and Alfred always did everything in his power to protect the people. It was not too long ago that he did not take his Claritin and inadvertently sneezed away the dinosaurs. The guilt haunts him to this day and his wife Juliet never fails to guilt him with it. \n\n“Honey, you left the dishes out.”\n\n“I’ll get around to doing them.”\n\n“YOU KNOW WHO WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO DO THE DISHES?!”\n\n“Okay, I’ll take care of it sweetie.”\n\nWith emotional distress and his recent lack of universal healthcare his wheezes have grown more and more unpredictable. When the earth quakes and the forest fires rage, it is evident that his allergist left the practice and is no longer in his HMO. The final blow came with his most recent visit to the doctor.\n\n“Doc, I have been on the verge of coughing these past couple of day, you have to help me.”\n\n“Seems like you have a classic case of pollution.”\n\n“What can I do? Human life is depending on it.”\n\n“Nothing you can do. When it comes to humans, I am afraid that is a preexisting condition.”\n"
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[WP]The year is 5296. Humans have been traveling the stars alone for over 3000 years searching for life. Many planets have been found with simple life, but none where it had evolved to sentience, until today, when your ship finds a new planet, where the inhabitants are comparable to stone age man.
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"When I thought of this, I wasn't sure how the humans would react. Would it be like Star Trek where we take a hands off approach and just observe or would it be more like Independence Day where we come to their planet looking for resources. I like that the first two stories is kind of one of each perspective. Well written guys, thanks for the stories :)",
" \"Are we alone? The answer might surprise you!\" News of a sentient species being discovered spread throughout the galactic empire faster than light and everyone was talking about it. 'What do they look like?' 'Where are they?' 'Are they friendly?' 'What technology do they have?' Billions of questions like these were asked. Trillions of people looked up to stars and fantasized about our new neighbors. When official news about them was released most were disappointed.\n Cave lizards became the official unofficial name for them. They were a young race still working with stone tools and building the beginnings of a civilization. Many people lost interest in them and instead began searching the other corners of the galaxy hoping to find an advanced alien society that could satisfy their romantic daydreams.\n The issue of what to do with the Cave Lizards was debated among the Galactic Council. After a long and boring debate, they decided it was best to let new species develop naturally and quarantined the entire system. Only a handful of satellites were left nearby to observe them. \n Years went by and soon everyone forgot about the simple Cave Lizards hiding in their caves. But as the young race gazed at the bright new stars in they night sky they thought to themselves, \"Are we alone?\"\n",
"\"So this is it then,\" with grim resignation, the ambassador stood up, \"we are what amounts to the oldest species in the known glaxay and you choose war?\" \n\"There is no other way to proceed. These beings are barely sapient. They don't know that the rest on a motherlode of dust! We don't even have to exterminate them; we could uplift them instead!\" The representative for the Spacer's Guild argued feverishly against his more peaceful counterpart. Both paled in power before the judge ruling over the case. \n\"Do you remember the last time humanity tried to uplift a species? As many from the African continent can tell you, it didn't go as well as the colonials hopes. We will not repeat their mistake on a galactic level. I rule in favour of the Ambassador Alliance.\" The judge briefly tapped his gavel and armed guards escorted the previously arguing men, now both silent, out of the courtroom. \n\n\nThe Alliance had their go-ahead; they would study this new species, potentially modify themselves on a genetic level to fit in. They had a decent, if rudimentary, language which was easily translated into Basic. The atmosphere was habitable by human standards, something the team working planetside thanked their progenitors for. The species, which had taken to calling itself Varthinn had a tribalistic system of government, very much like early man. This was probably the best state to find them in, those working on the mission were able to easily influence the beliefs and sciences to point towards the stars, their history would be pocked with alien encounters until they were ready to join the galactic community.\n\nHowever something was amiss. On the three-hundreth year of integration, one of the women assigned to the planet was approached by a small, (no more than three,) contingent of Varthinn. In perfect English, the first said \"We know you are not from here, neither are we,\" he gestured to his party, \"as the third sapient species to be found in this lonely galaxy, we, the Svarthix would like to extend our hand in friendship.\" And there, on that planet, several unfathomable quantities away from Earth, a bargain was struck, one that ushered in an age of peace, of prosperity; but, like all good things, came to an end in war and fire. Earth and her people had finally found the companionship they desired. "
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[WP] “The light at the end of the tunnel” is exactly that: a street lamp. Eternity is spent underneath it.
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"Loneliness.\n\nThat's all you ever felt. With the cold, unforgiving darkness surrounding you, all that you have for company is a tall isolated streetlight.\n\nSlumping on the post, you bury your face, streaked with tears, within your arms. You gave a hysterical chuckle: \"Is this it?\" you suddenly asked, looking up, looking around, looking for whoever may be listening. \"Is this the end of my life; _a lampost at the end of a tunnel?\"_\n\nSilence was your only reply.\n\n\"Because it sure seems like an amazing way to contemplate afterlife,\" you commented, voice raised at the latter words, noticing that your eyes were incredibly sore. Crying for an eternity was taking quite a toll on you.\n\nThe darkness never gave away anything.\n\n\"What, no answer?\" you threw back, getting frustrated.\n\nSilence.\n\nGrowling, you stood up, standing at the farthest radius of light, \"Speak!\" you screamed, pulling your hair out in anger. \"Speak, damn you,\" you sobbed, collapsing on the ground weakly.\n\n\"There's more to this,\" you gasped, \"I... I _can't.\"_\n\nDarkness.\n\n\"Please, I never wanted to die.\"\n\nSilence.\n\n\"Is this it?\" you whispered.\n\nLoneliness."
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[WP] A burglar decides to raid an antique house, but quickly comes to regret the decision when he encounters the home's sole occupant: an old lady who has overfed everyone she has ever known.
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"We all make mistakes. Some are admittedly worse than others, but seldom is there a conscious choice between the two alternatives. However, on this very day, the man in the black ski mask had the rare opportunity to choose between a poor decision and the worst mistake of his life. Unfortunately for him, he chose the latter with the swing of a bat into the window of Widow Jenkins' country home.\n\n\"You alright, Sonny?\" said a feeble voice hoarse with age. \"You took quite a hit to the ole noggin'.\"\n\n\"Wh-Where am I?\" the burglar responded, voice still muffled by the mask. Before she could answer, a particularly shrill scraping demanded the burglar's attention. To the untrained ear, it could have been passed off as a rusty swing, or perhaps, a crow with a nasty cold, but for the man tied to a wooden chair, who had worked at a restaurant for six years before the owner tanked it through a series of increasing bad decisions, one including a rare breed of parrot, the sound was unmistakable, someone was sharpening a knife.\n\n\"Look, lady! I didn't come here to hurt you. I-I just needed some cash. You can understand that, right? Can't we just talk this out?\" \n\n\"We've all fallen on hard times,\" the voice came from the kitchen. \"Don't you go thinkin' I haven't done in my fair share of windows in my day.\"\n\nWidow Jenkins emerged from the kitchen carrying a dome-lidded platter, and an uncomfortably sincere smile given the situation. She placed it on the table in front of her. \n\n\"It's nothin' to lose your head about,\" she said before being consumed by a wicked cackle.\n\nThe burglar tensed his shoulders, longing to break through his bonds to caress the head that was surely no longer there, but it was too late, this witch removed the dome reveal a perfectly cooked turkey.\n\n\"Eat up, Deary. You look starved.\"\n\nFork in hand, the old hag shoveled bite after bite of delicious bird into his mouth. Tears welled up in the burglar's eyes. He had never tasted anything so simultaneously scrumptious yet filling. Before he fully came to grips with what was happening, the feast was gone. The burglar relaxed in his chair to allow for better digestion. He couldn't remember the last time he had been full. For the first time in a long time, he was happily content.\n\n\"Now that we have finished the appetizer, we can move onto the entree,\" the old voice trailed off as the woman walked back to the kitchen.\n\n\"Wait! No really, ma'am. I couldn't. I'm so full, already. Anymore and I'd pop.\"\n\n\"Nonsense, my boy!\" the woman said bursting through the kitchen door with a cart of delicacies. \"You're nothing but skin and bone. You need to put some meat on before... Well, you'll find out.\"\n\n\"Before what?\" the man asked with a quiver in his voice. \n\nThe cart stopped in front of him. Marbled meats of various shapes and sizes lay before him. \"Before you're next, my dear.\""
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[WP] In the galaxy, prisoners are sent to the deadliest planet, Earth, for exile. One of the prisoners is named Elon Musk.
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"\"For your transgressions against the Empire we sentence you to live out the rest of your natural life in prison..on earth\".\n\n\"No.No...dear gods no you can't do this.\"\nTwo imperial guards began dragging him back to the the teleporter.\n\n\"No..I'll die within a century! their air is toxic and their medicine is barbaric this planet was abandoned for a reason you fucking Tyrant.\" he was pushed into a metal ring which then encased him in a metal tube, he banged on the metal knowing it was futile.\n\n\"ill come back I swear ill come back.Long live Xon long live the rebellion\"\n\n\"Desmond Caine I Empress of the Orion Arm, exile you to earth.\"\n\nDesmond Felt his molecules being ripped apart.they could have done this instantly and painlessly instead they tortured him on his way to hell.\n\nHe awoke feeling as if he'd been in an FTL with no stasis.in other words like he'd been sent to earth the hard way.Desmond turned over grains of sand was was all over him as he got up he looked to the stars not much he could see from here but it was enough to know he actually was on earth. He was about to turn around and explore when two men walked near him.\n\n\"Hello,may I borrow your holovid\"\n\n\"Dude,what?\" The shorter of the two men asked \n\n\"Barbaric apes\"\n\n\"Sorry bro we only speak English and Spanish\" the taller of the two informed him .right he wasn't on some backwater planet he was on The backwater planet.\n\nthey wouldn't have a holovid much less speak the galactic common language.however their language was familiar...English? Yes! He'd once read a diary from one of the most insane galactic criminals in history.\n\n\"Dost thou haveth speaking device?\"\n\n\"Dude what\" shorter man said\n \n\"Bro I think he means a cell phone\"\n\nHe made a hand gesture putting his thumb to his ear and smallest digit to his mouth \n\n\"phone.yeah?\"\n\n*At that moment the sky nearly lit up.Naturally Desmond wouldn't be surprised by anything this planet could manage but Desmond wasn't just surprised he was slack jawed astonished in the night sky was billowing luminous high velocity object that was nearly identical to the first ever FTL ship.*\n\nBro and Dude were jumping up and down and pointing a rectangular device at the FTL ship\n\n\"Look it's aliens.oh my god,OH MY GOD!\"\n\nDoubtful what poor alien would visit this planet.after a few minutes of the earthling excitement one of them exclaimed.\n\n\"Ahhh.dude we were wrong.it wasn't aliens\"\n\n**Clearly**\n\n\"Then what was it?\"\n\n\"It was one of Elon Musk Space X rockets\"\n\n*He didn't know who this Elon Musk person was but if he could build an FTL ship maybe he could get the hell out off this planet.*\n\n\"Whom is it thou speaketh?\"\n\n\"You don't know who Elon Musk is?\"Said Dude\n\n\"You live in Cali and don't know Elon Musk where have you been under a rock\" he almost laughed at the incredulity of it all.so he merely shook his head at them.\n\n\"Sure you do bro everyone knows Elon Musk\" and showed him an image on the rectangular metal device.\n\n*The Earthling was right everyone did know This man.Staring back at him was General Edom Xon leader of the rebellion.*\n\n\n"
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[WP] You and your friends were sucked into the world of your D&D game as your characters. You were the DM.
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"“There is a place, where river, forest, and mountain meet.”\n\nA man, an elf, a dwarf, and a celestial marched double file through the forest, following the path of the river. The man and elf took the lead to beat a path, for there was none here, while the dwarf and celestial followed. The dwarf tightened his grip on the mace already held to his dirty chain mail. The celestial rolled her eyes and raised the hood of her velvet robe.\n\n“Follow the river through the forest. In the foot of the mountain, covered in vines, there you will find the entrance. T’was once a place of beauty and importance, but now forgotten by most.”\n\nThe elf, clad in leather and cloak, stopped. The clanking of gleaming metal plate stopped as the man stopped. He looked to his companion before the two of them shared glances with their companions behind. Putting a finger to his lips, the elf disappeared into the underbrush. The dwarf shifted his weight from foot to foot and started at the slightest sound. The celestial sighed and crossed her arms, but the man put his hand on the dwarf’s shoulder. The man smiled to his friend and the dwarf, his nerves calmed, nodded but did not loosen his grip on the mace.\n\nThe river was shallow and not did not rush, but still flowed fast enough to mask the steps of the returning elf. All heads turned once he showed himself and the man stepped forward expectantly. The elf nodded, and the dwarf finally relaxed. The celestial shook her head and produced a beaten tome, bound in a variety of leather stitched and sewn together, that bore the title “Codex Monstrata.” Ever since the party had recovered the book, the tide of monsters that had once covered the country side had ebbed to their usual populations. The way forward was clear and their destination near.\n\nBefore long, the party reached a clearing and stood awed. Before them, cut into the base of the mountain, was an entry way carved several stories high. The old man had told true. The arch, once adorned in elaborate stone carvings, was worn and covered in vines. The river flowed onward through the entrance and into the blackness.\n\n“Yes, it is called the Heart of the World. Some say it was once a fortress, the center of a great and dead empire. Others yet say it was the temple of the gods what shaped all things. But now, it is empty and forgotten, and those that haven’t forgotten have the good sense to leave be.”\n\nFrom his pack, the man produced a torch. The elf moved to light, but a spark from the hand of the celestial lit the torch first. The man and the elf looked at her with furrowed brows and she shrugged in reply. The two chose to ignore it as the man stepped forward. At that moment, a bitter wind gusted out of the cavern. The party braced themselves and the flame went out. This time the celestial allowed the torch to be lit as normal, but again, the wind extinguished flame.\n\nThe man threw down the torch. The elf crossed his arms while the dwarf shuffled his feet. Then the elf delicately reached under his cloak to reveal another book. This was much older than the celestial’s tome. It was made of an ancient papyrus bound by string, the words written in burnt coals. But as fragile as this text seemed, it proved indestructible. It was only by habit that the elf treated it with such care. He turned the pages and stopped when he found what he was looking for. Taking two gold pieces from his pouch, he held them in his hand above the book, then dropped them on the pages.\n\nInstead of landing on the page, the gold pieces disappeared. A light shone from the book and a metal rod with a golden tip slowly rose out of it. The elf took the rod and handed it to the man who struck the tip against the foot of his boot. The gold shined brightly. Once more, the wind tried to snuff out the source of light, but failing, the wind stopped. The man, elf, and celestial continued forward, but the dwarf stopped, rooted to the spot. The rest turned, the celestial’s feet tapped. The man cast a disapproving glance at her before smiling at the dwarf. He gestured to follow. The dwarf put one hand on a silver libram that hung around his waist on a chain. And with new resolve and determination on his face, took the first and hardest step forward before continuing. The party continued.\n\n[cont.]",
"\"Welcome, noble Greg, to our PANTHEON OF GODS!\"\n\n\"Where the fuck am I and why are you wearing a toga?!\"\n\n\"Noble Greg, we, the pantheon of light, have summoned you, a being of nigh unsurpassed knowledge and wisdom, to join our pantheon in our eternal struggle against the evil pantheon of darkness. Our spell has summoned you and your chosen disciples to put an end to our war once and for all.\"\n\n\"Nooo, no, no nonononono. Fuck this. That spell was a joke. A stupid joke. This is some kind of bullshit. Stupid bullshit. That kind of crap just doesn't happen.\"\n\n\"I assure you, noble Greg, that you were chosen to join us. As miraculous as that may be to you, you will grow into your ascendance with time. Now join us, and let us plan the downfall of the cruel pantheon of darkness!\"\n\n\"Right. This is pretty fucked, but I'll hear you out until I wake up from my coma or something. I may as well- Waait... Aren't you Nomelor? God of Friendship and Trust?\"\n\n\"HaHA! It seems we were right to summon you after all, noble Greg! I am indeed Nomelor. My followers are spread across the land, bringing-\"\n\n\"Spy for the pantheon of darkness?\"\n\n\"Wha-... YOU DARE question me? The god of Trust? My aspect is beyond question! Watch your tongue!\"\n\n\"You lying fuck. I made you, I can UNMAKE YOU! BRING IT YOU PIECE OF SHIT!\"\n\nGreg then proceeded to tackle Nomelor and have a fistfight in the middle of the pantheon auditorium.\n\n---\nOn the ground below, in the mortal plane:\n\n\"Alright, so we're all on the same page? We've clearly been pulled into the game as our characters, and we have all our abilities. Standard procedure.\"\n\n\"Yep\"\n\"Yeah\"\n\"Obviously, standard procedure\"\n\n\"Great. Now, has anyone seen Greg?\"\n\n\"No\" \"He didn't even have a character\" \"Maybe he's a god? I mean, there are a few pantheons right?\"\n\n\"Yeah... There has been a lot of thunder lately... Maybe he tried to deck Nemelar or whoever that overly trusty guy was. I don't know what Greg was thinking with that one, the goatee was too much.\"\n\n\"That does sound like Greg... If Greg's a god, that means prayers can help him. We should start the cult of Greg. I vote we jump to this conclusion, and put the plan into action immediately.\"\n\n\"Seconded\"\n\n\"All in favor?\"\n\n\"Aye\" \"Aye\" \"Aye\"\n\n\"The 'Aye's have it, and we have our quest. May Greg have mercy on our souls. Bruce! Use your stupid charisma to spread the good word of Greg.\"\n\n\"On it!\"\n\n\"Alice! Use fire to burn down competing churches.\"\n\n\"You got it!\"\n\n\"Clarence! False flag attacks in the name of Nemelar. Accuse people of things, then burn the village down.\"\n\n\"For the good of Greg.\"\n\n\"I'm going use my backstory to get a fuckton of money, and prepare massive sacrifices in the name of Greg.\"\n\n*In unison* \"FOR GREG!\"\n\n\"Alright, let's get to work\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n",
"Erica has a habit of modeling most of her characters after herself. The same unruly brown hair, the same slim figure, and always a humanoid race like an elf or a human. It's why when I saw her character, Keyna, and saw the same general features, I briefly wondered when she had had the time to gather materials for cosplay.\n\n\"Woah,\" a voice says, and it sounds a little bit like Ashlie's, if not harder. Rougher. The person that it comes out of looks nothing like her at all, though. Six feet tall, skin tinted with green, and covered in scars. It's then that I began to realize what had happened, but shock is a funny thing - we were so clearly not in my living room anymore. Yet, I was half expecting to open my eyes from my next blink and be back there.\n\nI can't see Jack's character, Roro, at first, so I have to take a step back. The tavern that our characters - that *we* - are in is dimly lit and bustling with people, mainly humans and dwarves. Most are drunk, all are boisterous. Some of them, the ones that I had brushed over describing when first entering the tavern, have some facial or clothing details missing. No shine to their skin, very basic attire, along those lines. It makes it easier to find Roro, at least. Jack had first described his elven ranger as \"dashingly beautiful, and disarmingly so\" and had gone on a three minute lament about it.\n\nIt's weird, now, that I might never actually hear Jack go on one of his stupid tangents again. Not with the same lisp or the same dialect that he had tried so hard to make disappear while making Roro. \"Roro,\" I say, too quietly in the endless stream of people.\n\nIt's only now, actually, that I realize that I must not be a nineteen-year-old in a ratty t-shirt currently, or else I'd probably be attracting more stares. Something feels off about my body, and the way that it's structured. It doesn't feel like I've gained weight, really, but as if the weight that I currently possess is different. Looking down, I see the light pink and slightly ratty fabric of an NPC I had designed earlier this session, with the intent of leading the player characters to this very tavern. The NPC, not even named, was supposed to lose all purpose after the next ten minutes.\n\nThat's a terrifying thought, now that I'm in the said NPC's body. I can name her later, you suppose, if there is a later to be had. \"Roro!\" I say, louder, reaching forward to grab his thin arm. Roro looks... surprised, understandably. When Jack had said that he had wanted his character to flirt with the handsome bartender and order some mead, he probably hadn't meant to actually *do* it.\n\nHe scrunches up his nose at me in a way that is so *Jack* it kind of hurts. \"Carmilla?\" he asks, quietly enough that I read the words off of his lips rather than hear them. \n\n\"It's me,\" I say, and inhale. I need to figure out how to fix this -\n I *made* this universe, it's homebrew, so I should be the one who gets us out of here. Looking back at my other two friends, I see that they're now holding hands. They look *terrified,* which is kind of a bizarre expression on a half-orc's face. This is going to be on me.\n\nOnce, Jack had made Roro spoon a dying goblin. Once, Ashlie had sidetracked the main quest for ten minutes so that she could make her character collect all of the home addresses of the pretty boys in an inn, (\"What's the DnD equivalent of phone numbers? Mailbox coordinates? Is there DnD Myspace?\") and once, Erica had, in her own words, *vored* a *rat.* Once, all three of them split the party into thirds and I had to run a split campaign for an entire session.\n\nMy friends, and my players, have put me through some bullshit for this campaign. I figured it all out and still gave them a heck of a show. So ... who says I can't get us out of here? And, if we're here for a little bit more than hoped for... who says that I can't make it *fun*?"
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[WP] The monster is hiding in your closet because it's afraid of you.
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"**The Strange Girl**\n\n\"What say you?\" Jakyll Savant demanded. \n\nAggon stepped back from the circle of shadows. His claws were sharp, his fangs were long, but something about him was different. He was silent. The others watched him, believing he was a coward, until another became less silent. \n\n\"I know why he is troubled.\" \n\n\"I did not ask you, Dae'mon, I asked Aggon.\" \n\n\"Nevertheless, he will not speak because he can-not. Do not blame him.\" \n\n\"And why not? A name was given and yet the girl still lives. A soul is desired yet he brings none.\" \n\nThere was murmuring amongst the darkness. Slithering, itching words that sometimes burned and sometimes chilled depending on who had heard them. \n\n\"Tell, me Jakyll. What name was given?\" \n\n\"you will be told only if it is your name to take\" \n\nDae'mon bit her tongue in anger. \"very well, then I will say no more. Let us pass it on to the next.\" \n\nThe others were in agreement. Some held back their dark and twisted eagerness. \n\nAt the wave of a mighty hand, black fire rose from the very centre, spiraling upwards and cascading outwards at the very apex. It resonated with the hum of evil, if ever there was such a thing. And with it came a choir of screams, as though the very gates of hell had been opened. Many eyes watched. Many teeth gnarled. And all but the silent Aggon remained in the circle. \n\nThe shadowy fingers of black flame began to coalesce, and from the cacophony they shrouded a hungry Dezra. The name was given, and the soul was hers to take. \n\n\"Do not come back without it.\" Jakyll ordered. \n\nHer body was jagged, as if made of obsidian smoke. A violet haze cracked to form a crooked smile across her face as she whispered back. \"yesssss.\" And in a stealthy craze, she was gone into the human world. \n\nWhen she returned, the others were ready and just as hungry as she was before she left. But something was off. Her crooked smile had become dull. Her purple eyes no longer glowed. Her belly was not full. And only Dae'mon knew why. \n\nJakyll Savant was furious. \"Again, another has failed. Again, we wait. And we grow hungry as we are weary. Why have you returned with nothing?\" \n\nDezra did not move and she did not speak. \n\n\"silent, like Aggon\" came a voice. \n\nIt was not normal for fear to exist in their realm. And it may not have been fear, but some were troubled by what they saw. Jakyll turned his mighty face to Dae'mon. \"Explain this.\" \n\nThis time however, she had a more sinister poise - the Matriarchal presence of a queen. Knowledge was power, and she knew. \"Take the name for yourself and find out. It has been too long since you have fed us.\" \n\nHe was furious. The grey scaled leather some might call skin tensed where his jaws connected. And were it not for a blood-curdling screech from one of their own, the dueling gaze between them could have lasted an eternity. Jakyll turned towards the sound and witnessed something that had not been seen since the primal years of their creation. Dezra screamed as the black haze of her body thinned, fading into nothing. Then she was gone. Aggon had fallen sick too, though it had gone unnoticed until now. He too, was dying. \n\nJakyll honed his rage into words. \"We will put an end to this once and for all, and you will watch, Dae'mon.\" His hands came together only to rip apart a void into the human realm. \"Follow me\". \n\nSix others slithered, stomped, and made their way through the void. Dae'mon was the last to creep through like a spider. But she was no spider. She was a beast with a large maw, and a body armored by shards of ebony and charcoal. Her tail was rigid with a pointed stinger at the very end, and it dragged across the night-struck Earth. \n\nBeyond the dark forest they prowled, stood a tall stone structure that reflected moonlight though the sky was dark and cloudy. Malix roared like that of a wild wolf pieced together with a lion, then scaled the wall. Teveron, the smallest of their gathering, followed after and entered a large hall where the girl was to be sleeping. But when he arrived, what he saw was almost incomprehensible. It defiled the very nature of humankind. There, in the great hall, was a little girl with pale white skin, and hair so dark, calling it black would do no justice. And before her, Malix stood frozen and paralyzed. His soul was consumed by the little girl, little by little. Teveron could do nothing but watch. \n\n\"What is this!?\" He beckoned. But the girl was unphased. She showed neither remorse, or fear. She was emotionless. He felt a pull, as though something had grabbed him and sunk its claws deep into flesh. But there was no wound. He faught in agony, until the grip sliced through, leaving a hidden wound. But it was just enough to escape within a small enclosure inside the hall. \n\n\"Jakyll,\" Dae'mon taunted almost coyly. \"I know what waits inside.\" \n\nHis fists struck the wall like great hammers. His jaws tore through stone like it were flesh. And when he stood before the great hall, he smashed his way through that too. He saw the girl. He saw what remained of Malix, and he felt the presence of Teveron cowering behind a wooden closet. His claws opened, ready to snatch the little girl. \"Teveron, I will deal with you after this.\" \n\nThe rest of them crawled and creeped over the rubble from behind and watched. Jakyll raised his hand and swooped down with such tenacity, it left raging gusts of wind. His fist, with all of it's might, froze in front of her innocent face. \n\nDae'mon snickered from the shadows. She stepped closer, and closer, until entering the hall. \n\n\"Dae'mon, what have you done?\" \n\nJakyll roared as though something had taken a bite from his flesh. But there was no sound and no wound. Something was devouring him, and he realized it was the girl. \n\n\"Dae'mon!\" \n\nHer large maw opened, revealing the sharpest of her teeth, and let out the most menacing of roars that shattered glass and broke stone. \"This is my human daughter. Lilium. Like us, she must eat souls to survive.\" \n\nThe others watched in terror as their leader bled. His soul was ripped out, leaving only the husk of his frame. He was silent, and almost lifeless. She had left just the smallest shred of darkness in him, but even that would fade in time. \n\nDae'mon turned to face the others. There was confusion and there was fear. And there was obedience.\n\n\"Dae'mon, the Matriarch,\" One whispered. \n\n\"Dae'mon, the Mother,\" another capitulated. \n\n\"Dae'mon, the sinister,\" the last one spoke. ",
"The monster whimpers.\n\n\nAs I brush through my hair and apply lipstick for a night out, the monster whimpers. Spritzing perfume and zipping up my dress, the monster whimpers.\n\n\nI know if I open the closet, the monster will be there. I don't really care where it is. It chose the closet and I let it have that space so we're out of each other's sight. I wouldn't want to look at it anyways. It's lank hair and skeletal frame, creepy ice blue eyes too big for its face. Its high pitched shriek whenever I bring it into the sunlight. The monster is horrible, yes, and I wish I could get rid of it.\n\n\nIt hurt me, years ago. Nearly killed me. Tore up my body and gave me scars from my chest to my knees. I was in the hospital for weeks and when I came home, there was the monster. Always shrieking when I least expected it, dogging my sleep and haunting my dreams. I'm not sure why I keep it around, but at least we've found some semblance of peace with each other. It has the closet, and whimpers there.\n\n\nI escape the monster for a few hours. My girls and I hit up Club X, our usual spot, and pound some shots before hitting the dance floor. The night passes in a blur. Carlos arrives, a little later than usual but at least he's there. He's brought some new men with him. Mostly the usual type, skinny and tall, but there is a sweaty fat man there too. I saunter over and sit on Carlos' lap.\n\n\nHe knows what I want, he always does. We exchange some words, loudly enough to be heard but directly into each other's ears so his new companions can't hear. He points to the sweaty man and I nod. \n\n\nWe head back to my apartment and the monster whimpers as soon as I walk through the door. Rolling my eyes, I let the sweaty man sit down and Carlos and I head to the bathroom. It's a pretty simple arrangement. Sweaty already paid Carlos for the rock I receive, I get to keep it and I entertain Sweaty for the night. Carlos gets his money, Sweaty gets some fun and I get my fix. Everyone is happy. \n\n\nWell.\n\n\nI return to the living room and Sweaty eyes me. I bat my eyelashes but Carlos gives me a simple shake of his head. I'm not what he paid for. Whatever, same to me. \n\n\nI approach the closet. The monster whimpers. I open it and it shrieks. I look down at the monster, and its watery eyes meet mine. It whimpers again.\n\n\n\"Mommy?\""
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[WP] You head to work for the day and realize after stopping in the break room, your co-workers are looking at you with fear. You look at the TV and see you're the most wanted person on the planet.
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"Let's do this thing. Let's light this candle. \n\n---------------\n\nThe last job I ever had in my life was as a waitress in this little dive across the highway from my alma mater, or at least the horrid place that should’ve been it. The burgers were cheap, the tips were cheaper, but I was a pre-med physics major all the way on the other side of the state from my family and I had to pay the bills while I studied in a way that did not involve stripping, selling drugs or blatant camwhoring. I didn’t have many friends in not-so-good ol’ Bear Valley University, but I had plenty of friends at work, or at least I thought I did.\n\nMy name is Cindy. The closest friend I had there – in retrospect, ever had – was Joanna Harrington. She was the people-person I never could be – with nothing but the smile on her pale face and the sparkle in her blue eyes, she could rake in tips that more than made up for my awkwardness and empty pockets at the end of every shift. Even in those goofy fucking blue dresses the owner made us wear she still could play the crowds. On a night like the last night I ever saw her, January 15th, right after our shitty men’s hockey team somehow managed to beat an even shittier team out in Grand Blanc, I would spend my shifts swatting away the hands of drunken and entitled ice jocks and giving thanks to every god in existence that Joanna was there to make up the difference when I would inevitably get stiffed. \n\nThat night, the place was even more packed than usual. The hockey team was joined by a crowd of older locals – undoubtedly alumni or relatives of alumni loyal to that worthless school to the point of obsession – there to congratulate the team on finally standing a ghost of a chance of making it to the playoffs. Much beer was spilled on the cheap faux granite table and countertops. Much grey, melted slush accumulated its way around the front door. Many asses parked themselves in seats and barked orders as I rushed to serve as many tables as I could – I would have grumbled about our shitty boss leaving Cindy and myself to fend for ourselves against the onslaught of customers if it weren’t for the low, scratching tone that started blasting from the TV. \n\nThe Emergency Alert System tone.\n\nThe din of happy hockey fans quickly hushed itself as the tone blared through every corner of the diner.\n\nWhen every TV and cell phone screen in the place went black, everybody’s silent wonderment turned to frisson. \n\nFrisson which turned to dread when a shadowed silhouette then appeared and spoke:\n\n**“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, janitors and CEOs, black and white, rich and poor, I offer you a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!**\n\n**\"Tonight you will have the chance to win 1 BILLION DOLLARS! Yes, you heard that right!**\n\n**\"If, in the next 24 hours, one soul lucky, cunning or brave enough does one simple, teeny-tiny, insignificant little thing, he or she will walk away a billionaire!**\n\nFor everyone else, the dread in the air turned to hushed excitement. But not for me. And not for Cindy, who I noticed looking at me from the other side of the restaurant with worry in her eyes where charm normally sparkled.\n\n**\"All you have to do is this:**\n\n**\"Bring me her head.”**\n\nWhen a picture of me popped up on every TV in the restaurant, I dropped my coffee mug. \n\nWhen everybody turned around and stared at me, my dread turned to terror.\n\n**“Now listen up, folks, here’s the rules!**\n\n**\"Rule number 1: If any of you bring me this young lady’s head by 8:00 PM tomorrow evening, you’ll get what’s coming to you. But only one person can claim the prize! If you team up, your prize is forfeit!**\n\n**\"Rule number 2: If she survives and shows up at my doorstep, alive, by that time, SHE’LL win the billion dollars! But only under one condition – she can’t leave the city for the next 24 hours.**\n\n**\"Rule number 3: No military allowed! That’s not fair! If you already got the guns and the power, you can’t play!”**\n\nI could feel my body start to shake as the coffee from the broken mug started seeping into my white sneaker. It was like living out every nightmare I ever had in junior high. I could *feel* their eyes on me. \n\nThe children were pointing and staring. \n\nThe adults were staring too, their faces more composed, their souls ready to bounce in anticipation of the kill. \n\n**“Drop her head off at the courthouse on Diversey and Kensington!”**\n\nI swear I saw at least half of the patrons subtly reaching for their knives.\n\nJudging from where their hands were going, one of the hockey players and at least two of the old folks were packing heat.\n\n**“And the game starts…**\n\n**Now.”**\n\n-----\n\nNOTE: This is an EXTREMELY rough draft, as in I literally just spent the night crapping it out. Errors will be corrected when noted to the best of my ability. I'll continue the story on request."
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[WP]Now That humanity has cured aging, in order to combat over population, humans are rated throughout their lives and given a “lifespan” by the government. You’ve got 2 weeks till termination.
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"A breeze whipped across the street. It was icy. Shards of frost clung like glitter to the pavement. He skidded once every few steps as he walked, his head bent into the upturned collar of his coat. A bundle of stained blankets and filthy cardboard stuck out of a deep porch, a small haze of breath fogging above it.\n\n“Can you spare some change? Get me a hot drink on this cold morning, please sir?”\n\nHe walked on a little faster, his eyes following a car driving the other way before giving the blankets the shortest of glances.\n\n“Sorry, haven’t got any,” he lied thoughtlessly.\n\n“God bless.” The bundle replied.\n\nParker shook his left hand out of the sleeve of his coat and checked his watch. It was 0711 and he was late. He walked a little faster, letting his hand fall back into his pocket, as he did so he let his eyes wander to the matte black screen embedded under his wrist. It was nestled perfectly between the tendons that ran down his forearm. The green numbers on it showed twenty-three years.\n\n“Fuck me that’s a bit harsh isn’t it?” He asked nobody, shaking his head.\n\n---\n\n“Morning boss.” \n\nThe bright-eyed intern sitting in the furthest corner of the office greeted him from behind a monitor as he walked in. But the black bags under his eyes and shadow of stubble under his jawline gave him away. It had been a busy few days for everyone.\n\n“Morning…” Parker trailed off. The kid’s name escaped him for what he knew was not the first time.\n\n“Tom.”\n\n“Right, yeah, sorr—”\n\n“—it’s been that kind of week, hasn’t it?” Tom chuckled gracefully.\n\n“You can say that again.” Parker laughed unnaturally as he walked into his office. \nTom’s smile vanished and his eyes rolled a little as soon as the door closed behind his boss. The rest of office filed in over the next ten or so minutes.\n\n“Morning, Tom.”\n\n“You alright, Tom?”\n\n“Morning. Brought you a coffee. Black, one sugar.”\n\n“Cheers, Imogen.” Tom said.\n\nParker walked into the bull pen. Everyone looked up from behind their screens, their faces lit by blue login screens and white web pages.\n\n“Thanks for getting in early again,” Parker began. “Today’s going to be the hardest day, and it’s also the most important one, too. Keep working as hard as you have been, and we’ll be ok. The country will be okay. Polling stations open in ten minutes, so let’s get ready.” He gave them a little nod, grimacing a little at the same time. The lines creased into his forehead deepened, his crow’s feet opened their webbings. It was a clever, understated gesture: he thanked them for their efforts with the nod, and exhorted them to work harder with the grimace.\n\nImogen looked at her screen. It was split into two; a news feed on the left, an editing box on the right. Items from every source – articles from the BBC, Guardian, Times, Sun, Telegraph, Express; tweets; Facebook statuses – appeared one after the other in the news feed box. Clicking on an item opened it in the editing box. The algorithm developed by Parker, which hummed in the servers lining every wall of the office, allowed every item to be edited real-time on the host website.\n\nShe clicked on the first article of the day, it was from the Telegraph: “Opposition Leader Dodges Immigrant Question AGAIN!” The item moved from the news feed into the editor in a second. There was no fancy animation or *whooshing* sound effect. Imogen moused over the title and clicked it. She changed ‘Dodges’ to ‘Faces Up To’ and deleted ‘AGAIN!’. It was a big edit, a risky edit. She considered it for another second before clicking on the body text. She scrolled through the article, adding, editing, and removing words to give it a positive tone.\n\n“Polls open.” Parker shouted from within his office.\n\nThe day passed in a blaze of clicking, typing, and coffees. The crew worked solidly, eating and drinking at their desks. They edited every negative article, tweet and status about the opposition and bumped every positive item to appear more prominently. The cloth on the wall ticked on.\n\n“Polls closed.” Parker called again. He was standing in the bull pen again. “Good work today. You’ve all been an invaluable part of something much bigger than any of us. With a bit of luck, we’ve all helped to build a new, fairer country for everyone. Now go home and rest up.”\n\nA faint murmur of laughter greeted his words.\n\n“Cheers Parker.”\n\n“Thanks boss.”\n\n“It’s been an honour working with you, Mr Parker.”\n\n“No worries, Tom. Thanks for all your effort.” He replied.\n\nParker walked back into his office and slumped down in his threadbare chair. He shrugged his coat back on, glancing at the matte black screen on his wrist as he did so.\n\nTwo weeks left now.\n"
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https://promptuarium.wordpress.com/2017/12/29/frozen-2/
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[WP] You look up from from your laptop to find everyone else in the coffee shop frozen, staring at you.
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"\"Finally...\" I thought as I finished the long and difficult essay about the relations of the United States and the Soviet Union post World War 2, \"time to go home\".\n\nI follow my usual routine of closing my laptop and pulling my earbuds out to stow in my backpack and as I zip the bag shut I notice something... The person sitting across the room from me has their gaze transfixed on me.\n\nI awkwardly smile and lift my bag to the table and then I notice the person to my left staring at me as well. He has his coffee cup pulled to his mouth and is focused on me intently.\n\nI reach up to wipe my face to see if there was some coffee or some kind of leak from my nose on my face, but my hand stays dry.\n\n\"Okay... That is kind of strange.\" \n\nI stand and continue packing my stuff into my backpack as I feel their glares still burning into me. I pull my backpack around my shoulders and then I notice the strangest thing. As I am doing my best to avoid eye contact with the 2 patrons sitting next to me I see a barista with a broom in her hand, still as a mannequin, staring at me. \n\nMy eyes dart away and land on a second barista pouring cream into a customers coffee, and I notice that both her and the customer's eyes are locked onto me!\n\nMy heart rate quickens and my skin feels hot. \"What in the world is going on here?\" \n\nI turn my back to the 2 baristas and customer and begin to rush towards the door. I pass a group of businessmen and businesswoman and in my peripheral I notice that all of them are staring at me as well! \n\nConcerned of my safety, I fail to notice a chair in my way and my hip slams against it moving the chair from my path. My hip stings and I reach for the door handle and look out the window it is connected with and see my car and my escape from this weird and concerning moment. My hand throws the door open and I rush outside. As the door is closing I hear a cheerful voice say \"Bye! See you next time!\"\n\nI turn around and nervously look back into the coffee shop I had just exited and see every person in there is back to normal. Not one of them looking at me. As I get into my car and prepare to drive off I wonder, did I imagine that? "
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[WP] a communist country stuck in the 50s and a modern advanced country share a border. And a mountain. No one has managed to climb it. Now both countries are in a race to see who can beat it first, and National Geographic has sent you to photograph both sides of the race.
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"It had been a tough decision, but in the end I decided to follow Viktor. I thought there was a bit more human appeal in his story, the very idea of his attempt throbbed with the kind of heart’s-blood nostalgia that sold magazines by the truckload. He photographed extremely well, too, which didn’t hurt. \n\nI watched Viktor shuffle back and forth, his eyes fixed on the next pass. It was a slate grey chimney that an earlier ascension team had dubbed The Way Back, as it had proved to be the end of their own attempt to scale the mountain. And those guys had had gore-tex, they’d had lighter-than-air crampons that could be driven over with a tank and then used to tramp up Everest. They’d had little compact bottles of oxygen, and goggles so high tech that they were like wearing an HUD on your face. Basically, they’d had everything that Shannon Jones had, right at this moment. \n\nViktor was a communist ideal, a man seemingly carved out of flesh-colored granite. His face was lean and rawboned, his hair the color of wheat destined for the communal table. I’d never heard him speak a syllable that wasn’t within the party line, nor express the slightest doubt that he, the chosen representative of his country, would win the race. I snapped a picture of him as he prepped to make his way up the unclimbable chimney, then checked the result on the display of my digital camera. \n\nThe screen showed a lean man in his 40s, dressed in a rough-looking wool sweater and wearing an old-fashioned pair of snow sunglasses, the ones with the leather cups on their sides that sealed off your eye sockets entirely. Behind him a jagged set of peaks proceeded one after the other into the blue-hazed distance, each one dusted with snow. \n\nTime to check in on Shannon.\n\nI slipped the tablet from my pack and unlocked the screen. When not directly controlled by me, the drone that was following Shannon was supposed to hover about a hundred feet away taking continuous video of her ascent. Right then, she looked like she was about 30% higher up the mountain than we were. I carefully directed the drone to fly closer, trying to get an idea of Shannon’s state of mind. \n\nShe was trudging slowly up a rubble-covered slope, her gaze fixed on each spot she was to step next. High-tech climbing gear encased her like a plasticine cocoon, shielding her from the bitter wind, the blinding sun, and the broken-glass terrain that she was covering. As far as I could tell, she looked to be in better physical shape than Viktor. As I watched she reached in the pocket of her jacket and drew out a silvery packet. Without breaking stride, she tore it open like it was a ketchup packet from MacDonalds and squirted whatever was in there in her mouth. Probably some ultra-dense protein and vitamin slurry that felt like organic cocaine. She stuffed the packet back in her coat and continued up the hill. I took a couple of shots with the drone, and then slipped the tablet back into my pack. \n\nViktor was already partway up the chimney. He climbed like he’d been programmed to do it, like he had a flawless algorithm for ascending any route, no matter how hard, but that the computational machinery that ran the program was old and took a long, long time to work. I marveled at his physical stamina, watching as he hung in place for a full minute, figuring out his next move. One of the other reasons I wanted to follow Viktor was that he was a free-climber. I’d seen several shots taken of him by a colleague of mine, somewhere else in the range, and had stood transfixed, rooted to the spot in palm-tingling wonder at the apparent lack of fear that the man had. Now, he displayed that to me again. \n\nA section of the chimney bowed out from the slope, making it so that Viktor had to keep himself crammed in the narrow crack and at the same time cling to the cliff’s underside. It was a precarious position, but he seemed no more rushed or anxious than if he were back at the out-of-date gym in his tiny mountain town with a pile of pads beneath him. \n\n—"
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[WP]The souls of the dead cease to exist when the living aren't talking about them or acknowledging them in some way. The dead watch in horror as their memories are forgotten and their time gets shorter and further between.
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"\"No-one remembers second place\" offered Noah unhelpfully. One of the oldest souls still around, he loved coming to see others strike out, forgotten from the world and thus being evaporated into nothing.\n\"Don't listen to him kiddo\" replied Derrick. \"Thousands of years of immortality has really got to his head. Thinks he's the king of the ghosts or some shit\" Fucking Derrick, still around for 50 years because he won a Darwin award from choking to death at all you can eat chicken wings. And here I am, fighting for a few more years if I was posthumously awarded a trophy in the Oregon Short Film Festival. \n\nI should've kept the strip club scene in. \n\nA small crowd of souls had gathered, always finding entertainment in watching others fade, forgotten from one realm, removed from this one. Why the fuck was Hitler here? The burly presenter wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and toyed with beard. \nHe begun his speech, and everyone slowly tuned in.\nI muttered my name over and over, as if that could somehow influence the decision. \"vote for Jack, vote for Jack...\" \nAl Capone gathered money from the souls- as was custom, they were betting whether I'd be the next to go. Felt like a reality show. \n\n\"the level of talent has been very impressive...\" the man continued.\n\"shoulda tried to shoot the president, worked for Oswald\" Noah berated me. \n\"oh fuck you Noah, and fuck your boat\" I retorted.\n\"... the winner is Ethan with his film 'boobs n boats'!\" the burly presenter bellowed. \n\"Ethan?\" I shouted. Only reason that 'film' was even watched was because it was 90% nudity. Of course they'd go for that. \n\nI should've kept the strip club scene in. \n\nThat was it. Doomed. Al Capone handed out money, Noah laughed, Derrick munched on a chicken wing. Ah well, I thought. At least I don't have to hang out with this lot any more. Maybe non existence would be better than that."
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[WP] The aliens encounter a strange new species, called "humans", and the non-sapient creatures which they simultaneously worship and are served by, called "dogs".
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"\"Kled, I need explanation on a part of this observation report.\" \n\nKled raised his second head away from his work station while his first head kept compiling a new report on S556-4. Kled was a Dumokian. Grey, clammy skin, three eyes on each head, tripedal and generally easy to get along with around the Lower Civilization Observation Force office. \n\n\"Which part?\"\n\nHis boss was a Kud. Short, hairy, one arm that could split into small armatures, grumpy with the wet season, friendly in the dry. It was the wet season.\n\n\"What do you mean by 'multiple symbiotic species pairings?' You mention it several times in the social structure and economic observations. How many animal symbiotes does a human have?\"\n\nKled shuffled around on his station seat, \"It depends on geographical location, socio-economical status, and individual human immune systems.\"\n\n\"Explain.\"\n\nKled sighed and turned his second head around so he could focus entirely on his boss.\n\n\"Human's have developed an odd, well, pairing system with animal life. They have succeeded in creating guardian creatures out of several species by selectively breeding them to act as companions and alarms in exchange for food and medical care.\" Kled entwined his tentacles over his second leg, \"However, they did not confine themselves to useful animals. Some will pair with creatures that offer no benefit and, in fact, create more dangers for them. Some even keep dozens of creatures whose bite would kill them almost instantly.\"\n\n\"That is insane.\" Ked's boss waved his armatures around, \"What sort of living creature would willingly risk themselves that way?\"\n\n\"This kind, at least.\" Kled bobbed his head. \"If I had to speculate, I would guess that it has to do with social memory of their first successful domestication. The 'Dog' was created after breeding a particularly fierce pack predator until it was tame around humans that raised it, yet still dangerous to other humans who would invade or steal from the dog-paired one. The process took several human lifetimes to complete the transformation. I believe that the other-pairings are attempting to complete the same objective: turn a dangerous creature into a domesticated symbiote.\"\n\nKled's boss thought about this for a moment, his armatures reforming to the parent arm before he spoke. \"Dangerous. I hope they don't get a star drive for a long time. Imagine if they tried to do the same thing to a Hel-llud Worm, or a Scyrak? They'd kill themselves a lot, for sure, but what if they could pair with such monsters? I'm adding a note on your report. I think a specialized quarantine for the planet might be warranted.\"\n\n\"You think so?\"\n\n\"Better to be cautious than a cadaver.\" \n\nKled watched his boss walk away with a curious expression on both of his faces. He turned back to his work station, paused, then whispered to himself:\n\n\"Someone should tell the humans that.\"",
"\"Why do you do it?\" I asked the creature that stood before me. \n\nThe creature in question truthfully isn't all that different from myself. In another world, one in which the evolutionary path of the Zarthurians had taken a different path, I might have come to meet this creature looking the same to them as they do to me. Perhaps one day that just might happen if his planet can survive long enough.\n\n The differences are few, but extremely noticeable. Instead of the translucent skin of my species, theirs is a dark brown. While I'm told they do come in different colors, none come close to being as light as us. Then there's the arms: they still have hands. They're nice, and I'm sure they have their uses. But compared to our morphing tentacles, I don't really see the appeal. The same could be said of their legs. They're also covered in hair. Some of it is more visible than others, the bits on their head being darker than the parts on their arms. Still, it's all hair. I can't imagine having to swim with all that.\n\nBut it's not them that I'm here for. As far as dominant species go in this sector, they're relatively normal. They overgrow the planet that they're on until they cover it. Then they either reach peak population mass and die out or start downsizing. There's always the option of continuing the growth on other planets... But we're here to make sure it doesn't come to that. For all intents and purposes, this \"humanity\" is almost entirely unremarkable. \n\nThat is, save for its secondary species. We don't quite have a classification for such a thing yet. So we've taken to labeling them as a secondary dominant species despite the fact that they don't seem to be dominant or intelligent, for that matter. \n\nThe secondary species is called \"dogs,\" quadruped beasts covered in fur. They don't seem to have any distinct patterns in terms of size, color, or fur pattern, but you can tell what they are when you see them. I checked the database for one and since then it's been pretty easy to tell it apart from its cousins \"cat\" and \"hamster.\" \n\nWe can't tell what's special about them, but the primary dominant species seems to see something in them. They've enslaved them, which isn't unusual. Slaves can be of great benefit when you have no concern of the consequences of exponential expansion, and when they're stupid enough that they can't rebel.\n\nBut usually when that happens, the slaves are degraded and heavily disciplined so as to prevent an uprising. This isn't the case on this planet. The \"humans\" feed the \"dogs,\" they care for their exercise, socialization, excrement, and hobbies. At times, I began to question which species is the subservient one. They fill the pages of literature with stories about them and portray them in golden perfection through moving pictures. \"Man's best friend,\" they call them. It's entirely unheard of. \n\nI wanted to know more, which is why my curiosity led me here. Members of a small colony told me that if I followed a pathway through this forest then it would lead me to a house where a member of the species that they called \"the greatest canine fanatic among them\" lived. They did not lie, a pleasant surprise for my tired and confused mind. \n\n\"Why do you do it?\" I repeat to them. The brown human sits on a small chair constructed from chopped trees. Beside them sit two dogs, both of which they are absentmindedly rubbing. They look up at me, their face initially one of confusion. After a moment, they discard the look and replace it with a smile. \n\n\"You know, I've been waiting a while now for someone to ask me that. I just didn't think it would be one of, ah...\" They pause nervously and then point to me. \"You guys.\" They finish. The dog they removed their hand from looks up at them expectantly and whines softly. They quickly take notice and resume their rubbing of its fur. \n\n\"C'mere\" They say, and jerk their face to their left. I take it to be a gesture that I should sit next to the dog. If I were not aware of their reverence for these creatures, I would be insulted. I comply with their suggestion and take a seat beside the creature, its fur brushing up against my left tentacle. \n\n\"Why do you do all this for them?\" I repeat for the third time. \n\n\"Truthfully, I don't know.\" They say. \"Sometimes, I tell myself that it's because they need me, y'know? These dogs can't take care of themselves out in the wild so I had to do something. I say that I do it because it's the right thing to do and I'm just such a nice guy that I do it.\" \n\n\"Sometimes?\" I ask.\n\n\"Yeah, sometimes.\" They answer, though it would be generous to call someone repeating my question that.\n\n\"And the other times?\" \n\n\"I'm not the nice one in this relationship. It's them. Truth is, no matter how much I do for them, I'll still never do enough to deserve them. These dogs have been with me through it all. Not them specifically, though. Some come. Some... go.\" Their eyes looked off into the distance, and their expression softened as they said it.\n\n\"But they're always there for me. They're always nice to me, as long as I'm nice to them. I can't say the same for regular people. With people, you can give and give and give, and it'll never be enough. They'll always want more and they'll never give back. Dogs don't think like that. They just want food, water, some wal-\" They get halfway through the word and the dogs ears perk up. \"Healthy exercise, and they're happy. They're simple like that. They're nice like that.\" \n\n\"But what do you get out of it?\" \n\n\"They're nice to me back. Sometimes, I don't do so well,\" They take their hand off the dog for a moment to tap their finger on their head. \"Up here, I mean.\" I saw their meaning.\n\n\"They take care of me. If I cry, they come to me and let me hug 'em. They just sit there with me, sometimes for hours, while I let it out. Sometimes they cry along with me, too. Other times, I have things I can't talk about. 'least not with people. I can tell these dogs whatever I want and they'll listen. They're good listeners, these dogs. Haven't walked away from my stories once, and I always give 'em a treat afterwards.\" They smiled and rubbed the dog a little harder.\n\n\"I guess what I'm trying to say is: I'm good to them and they're good to me. They're fair. If I'm ever not good to them, they'll leave me because I'll deserve it. There's a lot in this world that isn't fair or that doesn't make sense. Dogs don't care about all that. Dogs are the one thing in this world that'll do you you right.\" \n\nOne of the dogs from off the porch walked over to me and jumped up on my lower tentacles. I hadn't noticed it before, but now that one of them was sitting in my lap it was impossible not to: it's fur is so *soft.*\n\n\"That one's taken a liking to you, I see.\" The human commented.\n\nI tentatively morphed my tentacles into a shape resembling a human hand and mimicked the motion they had made earlier. The dog looked up at me, tongue out and panting. The look it made distinctly resembled a smile. \n\n\"I suppose it has.\" I said, running my tentacle down its back. It felt nice. "
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[WP] You live in a world where superheroes can be called at the click of a button on smartphones. You’re a superhero called by a particularly curious 10 year old that found their mother’s unlocked phone
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"Gently, I landed on the rackety fire escape. “Your Uber driver has arrived. Need a Lyft?”\n\n(Fucking hilarious. You’ve done it again. That almost warrants a high-five, Needletail.)\n\nAfter the whole alien invasion thing back in 2006, plus with the Superb Owl going insane and all that shit, heroes and villains finally found some common ground. The reasonably-sane ‘bad guys’ (I use that term lightly— counselling and kindness go a long way) who’ve never actually killed anyone were granted amnesty and maybe a lifetime of community service, while anyone else who stepped out of line had their powers removed and imprisoned. Even other heroes were subject to this. \n\nRemoving superhuman abilities is quite an interesting process; I didn’t completely understand it myself but they seemed to turn out physically fine afterwards. As for the non-metas: mostly hackers, assassins, and vigilantes, it required a lot of negotiation and a little death, but no complaints for the most part. \n\nYou’d think the government would be all up in our asses like in the comics but things turned out relatively fine. I’d say mandatory training courses and psych evaluations were the best thing that’s happened to the Supercommunity since Celebrity Apprentice. It definitely costs a shit-ton of money, but the billions they seized off of the meta drug lords and one particularly bigoted CEO might’ve helped. \n\nNowadays, super work is mostly done out of civil duty. Mostly. We’re ready for whatever global warming or the known universe wants to throw at us but for those who need spending money, we simply use our skills to our advantage. For instance: Fireman, formerly an arsonist-for-hire and not a fireman, now uses his flame form to bake pottery. Sure, he could die if he actively tries to hurt someone using his powers, but that’s why fire extinguishers were made. And he loves his potter husband. The government would never let a walking inferno free if he was an abusive shitbag. Also, thank fuck his powers are activated by mantra, I’d hate to end up with third-degree burns while doing it, y’know?\n\nAs for yours truly, I used to just take up courier jobs on Craigslist, but a mutual friend has recently developed a seperate app for meta and other special services. If you need a delivery made or a cheap alternative to air travel, I’m your gal. \n\nKicking me out of my own internal monologue was the knock on the window in front of me. A young boy slides it open. This boy is not ‘Jane Smith’. \n\n“Am I at the right place? Did you call for Needletail? Apartment 402?”\n\nHis jaw has dropped and he hasn’t said anything. He’s a starer, alright. But his big brown eyes glisten in the sunlight and it feels just like old times... It’s been a while since I’ve been in the presence of true wonder, the praise of being there to save the day. \n\n“Hey, kid. All this attention is nice and all, but I don’t think you should be on your mom’s phone. Just this once, I’ll do a refund but I need to talk to her about this.”\n\nHe finally comes to. “Are you Needletail? Can you really fly?”\n\nI hover a little bit, and suddenly the biggest smile I’ve ever seen grows on his face. \n\n“Too bad for you, I’ve had a slow day today. That means I’m able to come back and talk to your mom face to face.”\n\nHis bushy eyebrows furrow as he shakes his head. “No no no no no! She’s right here.” He runs towards a door and drums it like Buddy Rich himself. \n\nWhat was a muffled fart was followed by muffled speaking. “Wait a minute, Jonah, wait a minute! I’ll be right out!”\n\nJonah. Huh. \n\nJonah comes back to stare at me while we wait for his mom to finish washing her hands. Then out she—comes...\n\n“Jemima?”\n\n“Mama says she’s actually my grandma, and my real mom is a superhero who can fly! Is it true? Are you my mom?”\n\nNo way am I doing that refund. \n\n\n\n\n\n"
] | 1
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[WP] You are an alien crew checking out this "Earth" to see if humans can be safely integrated into intergalactic society. You are writing an report to your boss.
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[
"Leader Zirkai\nRe: Rocher Bleu, Sector 81/106-03\n\nI have spent the last week among the superior species of the Rocher Bleu, which they refer to as \"earth.\" In my time so far, I have not collected a sufficient amount of research to determine the extent of the capabilities these \"people\" posses. I have learned they have thousands of spoken languages on this planet, though I have had no difficulty communicating in the region I have been in thus far. A great deal of the population is at least bilingual, which shows they have the potential of learning the Standard Galactic Tongue. My research has also proven our early speculations that \"people\" on this planet separate themselves into 94 different governments and there is a power system within each of those groups. They seem to be maturing as a species and better realizing the given rights of all creatures, but some groups are far behind others. Overall, \"people\" are a hostile species, often having arguments with different groups which result in bloodshed, and I will move on to the next regions before I turn in the full report. However, my current stance on the readiness of human integration is that they are not qualified to be aware of the galactic association just yet. Perhaps they need a few thousand more years.",
"Report Alpha 59: To USSU\n\nChosen course of action: Genocide.\n\nJustification: I regret coming to this world. The majority of the population believes an ancient flawed system works. \n\nThey might have been capable of joining, but due to their efforts to undermine the very thing that was good for them. The only choice left is to destroy them. \n\nThey are a menace to our way of life, and if they spread out peaceful perfect system will be abolished for their wealthy class to profit off of.\n\nReport over. May the United Socialist Systems of the Universe live for all time, forever. ",
"MW-OA-SOLAR-3 \"Earth\"\n\n**Overview**\n\n* Contrary to our earlier scans, the primary intelligent beings on this planet refer to themselves as \"humans\", not corporations. \n\n* They seem to be much more primitive than we initially would have imagined. Though it seems that their strengths lay in the ability to create from seemingly nothing. They call the initial stage of creation an \"idea\".\n\n* Their biggest weakness seems that they lack the ability to live in harmony with each other and their home. They use poisons as fuel, and segregate themselves seemingly based solely based on their place of creation. \n\n* We have not been able to establish contact. They seem fearful when we stimulate the organ that handles their speech. \n\n* The same organ handles visual processing, but their ocular system cannot sense us as living beings. They simply see us as \"BEAMS OF LIGHT\"\n\n**Report**\n\nG0D first discovered this planet and its beings roughly 20 local cycles ago, unfortunately he interfered too much when he found how superstitious the beings were. The eventually came to worship him. He enjoyed this power, and lived the rest of his cycles on earth. \n\nThey still worship him to this day, calling out to him when they are in need of something, they don't seem to realize that he has been dark for more than 10 cycles. \n\nBased on our findings we can not recommend these humans for integration in to the IGSPAN. \n\nGiven time we can revisit them, currently they would only bring war to the Counsel. They still largely rely on superstition to govern themselves. Even with that superstition being provided by one of our own, they still decide it best to divide over who interpreted G0D's messages to them. \n\nWe will be careful to not interfere as we continue to observe. We will make contact again in 3 cycles. \n\n\n - M4Y\nCycle-450\n\"Earth\" Report 1\n\nCurrent IGSPAN Status: Not recommended. \n\n\n",
"Report #7 Species Information and Communication Technologies\n\nSalutations Cucklord,\nOmichron 946 here, with a hot, spicy, fresh report. I have spent the last week on the \"Humans\" communication network, which us Memers refer to as the \"Interwebz\". Despite initial impressions, it seems like they have a very advanced digital network for communication, connecting a large portion of the planet. While I have heard from my comrades that the humans aren't quite dank at things such as peacefulness and equality, I think their communication network more than makes up for this. The level of intricate culture displayed is phenomenal, and if a fraction of them care half as much in their out of communication lives, this species will surely by a success in disguise. They will be more than capable of joining, and even better in the transplanetary communication network. I spent my first few days on the most popular platforms, such as Twitter and Facebook, however it was soon kindly expalined to me that these were mostly inhabited by the inferior normies. Since then I have spent the majority of my time on the 'websites' known as Reddit, 4chan and YouTube, which while still full of normies, are also home to the elite group, known as the memelords. The pursuit of knowledge and truth I have found is exceptional. I am currently in the process of being Red-pilled, which consists of exposing yourself to truths which would have otherwise been too painful to bear. You may notice I have translated many of the hip lingo I have found to the international standard language. I look forward to letting them join the Fedaration.\n\nOutcome: Success\n"
] | 4
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