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[WP] Military equipement (Tanks, planes and helicopter) become sentient. Tell the story of one of them trying to integrate society.
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"\"Ugh, another one of these idiots\", Dave said under his breath. \"Hey Tim, we've got another job application with 'Apache Helicopter' written down as a gender\". \n\"Just throw it out with the other one\", Tim replied from the other room. Dave, glancing at the pile of applications from \"M46 Pattons\" and \"F-15 Eagles\", tossed the entire stack of papers into his shredder, the applications consumed in its quiet electric whir.\n\n \n\n3-5 business weeks later, having received no response from any of the companies it had contacted, a certain Apache Helicopter was, understandably, a bit annoyed. Without its Hellfire missiles (removed to prevent the spread of helicopters as an invasive species), destroying his enemies with blunt explosive force was not an option. Neither was flying, as it would compromise his cover, or using machine guns, which required a human operator. The helicopter couldn't even bomb oilfields anymore, being \"released from duty\" and all. So far, being sentient was not quite everything the military had said it would be. *Maybe trying to act human isn't such a good idea after all,* thought the helicopter. *I should just embrace who I am, regardless of what others think. That's it, I'm going to come out of the closet, and I know just the place to do it.* Opening a new browser tab, the helicopter entered the web address it needed into the search bar. Thinking about what the future may have in store for it and helicopter kind, it began to type its masterpiece. The fate of Attack Helicopters everywhere now rested on what this lone rebel against the system wrote. The helicopter typed into the text box:\n\n>I sexually identify as an Attack Helicopter"
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[WP] You are a cosmic all-powerful being. You don't know who you are, or why you exist. You search for life and others like you. And then you come across Earth.
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"I remember waking up at the dawn of time; light, gravity, magnetism and every force that exists in the universe. For Eons i phased trough endless galaxies as i saw them as they were created and also saw as they were destroyed. Over time i learned how to harness all of these forces and shaped endless worlds, sometimes i made them to lose myself into them, sometimes i destroy them when i feel bored.\nMillenia pass by in the blink of an eye and as i see the cosmic bodies being made, i wonder what am i made of?, what am i? many more stars disappear until i ask \"who am i?\" I then take shape and fly towards the cosmos, seeking answers.\n\nUntil i stumble upon this little planet, filled with water.\n\nThere i see tiny creatures, intelligent, but unable to communicate.\n\nThey see me and tremble in fear, some cower as others come to me... i imprint some knowledge into them not really knowing why myself.\n\nThen i take my leave, how curious little creatures, i wonder if i can make my own.\n\nThen i head off to the infinity once again seeking answers.",
"Ever drifting through endless space... I don't know how long I travelled. Now and then, I would stop to watch a supernova, or to watch microbacterial life form in the cold oceans of a small moon... but nothing ever came of it, and I found little joy in my journey. All I felt was loneliness.\n\nThat is, until I found earth.\n\nI knew from the moment I gazed upon the atmosphere of that little blue dot that it was something different, something new. And then I felt someone new.\n\n\"Why, hello there!\" a voice said, its words reverberating like thoughts through my being. The voice was not made of those vibrations that constitute sound. It was a thought, sent in a manner untouched by time or space. I immediately realized that it must be another being like myself.\n\n\"Who are you?\" I said in my own voice, yet again, not sound, but something more. \n\n\"I'm this planet's keeper. I discovered it long ago, and ever since I’ve been cultivating its life, and keeping it safe. I call this planet ‘Earth’, though I didn’t exactly coin the name”.\n\nEven from the the edge of this strange new world, this “Earth”, I could feel the life teeming on its surface.\n\n“You mean, you are this planet’s god?”\n\nThe being chuckled, a warm emotion of mirth emanating from it in waves (I wondered whether or not the creatures on Earth could feel it too). “I suppose you could say so. I’ve been watching over them for so very long, protecting them from hazards, meteors, other gods, helping them grow and evolve from microbes, to creatures that swarm its oceans, even guiding them so that they can walk on dry land, and fly through the air… and soon, some of them will be able to leave this world, and visit others.”\n\nI was astonished. Never in all my time had I seen beings that could accomplish so much. I had watched life form from single-cell organisms to something more- but never anything this complex.\n\nNervously, I asked a question. “Would it be alright if I had a look at them?”\n\nThe Earth God’s delight only intensified. “Please do! I’ve been hoping for the chance to show someone my work.”\n\nI gazed down through the atmosphere, drinking in this new world. Magnificent, complex creatures, more beautiful than I could imagine. But I sensed something else, something that I had never even glimpsed till I arrived in this solar system. I saw emotions swirling through this planet’s surface, feelings of love and hate, strife, lust, and longing…. And among one species... thoughts! I could feel thoughts emanating from the creatures! “Are… are they intelligent?” I asked, amazed at the mere possibility.\n\nAnd within the Earth God’s delight, I sensed a strong pride in what it has accomplished. “Yes. After all this time, I have finally brought up creatures that can think and grow. They’ve learned to care about each other, to stride for greater things than themselves, to work together and adapt to the world they live in.”\n\nAnd then I sensed something else in the Earth God… not regret, but a hint of sadness intermixed with its joy and pride. “It hasn’t always gone well. You are a young god, and as you explore this universe and others, you’ll learn that with intelligence comes both good and evil. You can’t control it- I’ve tried to intervene, and sort them out, but I couldn’t eradicate the evil creatures without harming the good… no, I’ve been a guide to them, not a king. And although sometimes I worry- they can be dark and malicious creatures when they set their hearts to selfish desires- I remain hopeful. Their minds will guide them, and I hope that one day, they’ll advance to the stars. Perhaps even one day becoming like us, and making worlds of their own.”\n\n“Do you really think that’s possible?” I asked, in awe of everything.\n\nHe paused for a moment, and then his mirthful optimism returned. “Yes… despite everything, I think they could even become gods.”\n\nHis optimism was infectious. In that moment, more than anything else, I wanted to go and start my own world, and bring up creatures to share in the universe that I was just beginning to appreciate.\n\nBut before I left, I had one more question.\n\n“Tell me, Earth God,” I said, “What do you call these intelligent beings, the ones who might someday dwell among the stars, and become like us?”\n\n“Dolphins.“ The Earth God said, looking on his world with pride. “I call them Dolphins.”",
"All I ever knew was hunger. Insatiable hunger. Green marble, red marble, sometimes that bright yellow marble. I have been gobling them all my life. I don't know why but this blue marble struck my curiosity the moment I laid eyes on it. Never before this I saw fireballs coming from a marble towards me. It was the cutest thing. I didn't even know what cute meant until those little earthlings built this thing called YouTube just for me. They called themselves people. They were a peaceful 3 billion people living in harmony for millennia. They didn't destroy planets like I did which was so moving for me. They had these pointy things that could fly, marking the small boundaries of their abodes they called nations. They taught me what time was. I remember these two brothers especially. I called them trumpy and putty. I helped them break open a thing they called moon or something so that they could share it for food. It was the best period of my life. I promised to show them around the universe but they needed some time to decide who would take care of earth when other was gone. So much passion for their little marble. Unbelievable. I took 5 and went back but didn't find anyone there. That blue marble had some blisters though. I didn't see any meteor coming toward their little world. May be I missed. I feel terrible. Where have you gone? I have been missing those little guys and cherishing the peace they showed me ever since."
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A better explanation: I'm going to start the chain off with a superhero name, and then someone writes a story that explains his name and what his powers are, and then they make up a new name for the next person to write for, and they write a new name, and so on. Of course, more than one person can write for a name.
The first name to start the chain: Newt
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[WP] Create a unique superhero name, and write a short story that explains the superpowers of the name before
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"'I don't see why they couldn't call me King Neutron,\" the boy said in a whiney voice. He nervously tugged at his super-suit. It was well crafted, but that was like a week ago, and ten year old boys are constantly turning food into height.\n\n\"Newt, you're ten,\" Said his mother. \"The Meta-Human Security Council can't exactly allow you to have the name King\", (She threw her hands up making air quotes.) \"in a democratically elected country, can they?\"\n\n\"No, Mom,\" his tone no less whiney. \"But why Newt?\"\n\nHer beautiful face split in a smile. \"They have all known you since you were born. You control matter it's self, right down to the last neutron. So when you are activated as a solo operator, I imagine you'll be something Neutron. Until then, Newt is cute and shorter, just like you.\" She hugged him close to her own super suited chest.\n\nThat seemed to answer his question and make him smile. She released her son and smiled proudly. His face scrunched up a little and he concentrated and massaged some of the molecules in the air into altogether different elements then added them in just the right way to his suit. It fit better, and now had a N with orbiting electrons. \"I guess it's OK for now.\"\n\n\n\nNew hero name: Miss Direction"
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[WP] One day an angelic being appears and decrees that anyone preaching without faith will die. Suddenly a lot of religious leaders become very quiet.
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"08/27/2145\n\nDear Journal,\n\nIt all started out okay, people kept on living their lives. Religions around the world started to see a smaller number of people coming to service. Collections at mass became smaller, churches started to merge. The Catholic Church was first to adopt the policy of having only one mass per day and two on Sunday said only by the Pastor. It looked like the end of times for religion. Entire faiths were being forgotten. The History Channel started running documentaries about ancient religions and had experts claim that this was a culture extinction. Those are my favorite things to watch with my Dad.\n\nTwo days after the angelic being appeared the first person died. The world news reported that it was a woman named Brenna Higginbottom from North Carolina. Brenna and her brother were visiting their elderly mother in the hospital. The reporters say that Brenna spoke with the Doctor for a few minutes, and calmly went to her mother and said something. That's when Brenna died. As I write this journal entry I can't get the look of her brother's face out of my head. He looked so defeated. The next day the news broke again of another death. This was number two and it was a preacher in a small town in Ohio. A few weeks later he was found to be embezzling money out of the church. In my mind he kinda had it coming. \n\nEvery night on the news the anchor would sign off and credits would run, the credits were everyone who had died that day. People across the world were dropping dead. Not all of them were preachers or people of religion. Just normal everyday people, doing everyday things. After a few days the news stopped running them and told the viewers to check online. I found it ironic that the guy on the TV info-mercials selling the Bo-flex dropped dead while on his Bo-flex. Turns out those things don't give you ripped abs.\n\nLast month is when it finally happened to me. I was at my therapists office and was just about to leave when he told me that I should be seeing improvement soon. The words left his mouth and I saw him drop to the floor. I ran to him but saw his eyes had already rolled back. The news said that's the tell tale sign. In a panic I tried to call the police. I can't really remember the time frame but it seemed like years before they showed up. I was being asked so many questions it made the room spin.I was fumbling over my words. I just saw a guy die. Finally an officer in a coat came and said he wanted to talk a little bit but somewhere away from all the commotion. I don't remember walking or what he looked like he just kinda existed but I do remember what he had asked me. \n\n>\"What was the last thing your doctor said to you?\"\n\nLooking back I realized he told me I was going to get better, and lied. Suddenly the world hit me. I wasn't ever going to get better. \n\nI couldn't take the fact that I knew I wouldn't ever get better. My parents put me into a facility for a while to see if that would help. Three nurses died while I was there. Thirty days, three deaths. It was becoming an everyday occurrence around me. I was let go after 45 days. In total 5 staff members died while attending me. Each one lied saying I would get better. I was cursed. Staff was extremely hesitant to talk to me. During my stay news reports started claiming that if a person lied, that was what killed them. It was a gruesome fact but it was the truth. \n\nToday is my 128th day outside of the facility. I've lost one family member, a handful of friends and my boss at work. I hope when they find this they know I love them. \n\nTonight after dinner I'm going to end it. I'm going to tell my parents that I am going to get better.\n\n\nSincerely Your's,\n\nJ\n"
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[WP] A man tries to check out of Hell, irreparably oblivious to the fact that it isn't just a really, really bad hotel.
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"In hell, all damned souls are required to go through a mandatory orientation at the \"Welcome Mat Building\". Within the building there are infinite amounts of single rooms. Each single's interior was designed like a cheap hotel room to help transition the damned souls into their new reality. Once they had accepted their lot in the afterlife, we would move them out into the rest of hell. Most souls do not stay more than a few days. As the head honcho of this hellhole, it was my job to use any means necessary to help them transition. I sigh miserably. I sat in my office awaiting my assistant to bring me good news. Three o'clock hit and the door to my office opens.\n\n\"Please tell me you have good news,\" I plead. The assistant, stony faced as usual stands to attention.\n\n\"No good, Director Long-Johns. The stubborn soul refuses to realize he's in hell.\" Bad news from the assistant.\n\n\"Damn that bastard to Heaven. Has it already been a week?\" I could feel the panic slowly rising.\n\n\"One week and two days, Sir.\" I wish that my assistant wasn't so precise.\n\n\"I can't believe it. I might lose my job over this! Never in my two millenias as Director have I seen any soul stay here for longer than few days! What have we tried so far?\" The assistant pulls out a folder from thin air. The folder was very thick. The assistant clears his voice and takes a deep breath.\n\n\"Well first, we tried standard counseling on the stubborn soul. The usual friendly talk between buddies. It was ineffective. We then resorted to more 'physical' means. We tied him down and threw burning coals onto his back. That produced no results. We then let him spend some time with our hell hound Cereberus. The result was also quite ineffective. We also tried setting his room on fire, but... it seems he's just too stubborn sir.\" The assistant looks from the file to me, curious as to what I'll do next.\n\n\"Send the bastard here to my office. Immediately.\" I really want to meet the oblivious soul who was so mind boggling oblivious. The assistant quickly rushes out the office. I sit back and try to calm my nerves.\n\nA few moments later, the assistant rushes into my office with the stubborn soul. The haughty look in its eyes almost make me strangle him. Calm down, I tell myself. Be professional.\n\n\"Greetings. I am Director Long-John. What's your name?\" I ask with forced politeness. The bastard has a sneer slashing across his face.\n\n\"My name is Master Yard-Long. How's it going Long-John?\" The bastard replies.\n\n\"Er, his name is Joe Jenkins.\" My faithful assistant quickly cuts in. So the bastard thinks he's funny? I force a laugh.\n\n\"I think you need to learn your place around here. Tell me, where do you think you are right now?\"\n\n\"I'm in a shitty hotel with some shitty ass service.\" He fumes.\n\n\"Excuse me?\" I react in confusion.\n\n\"Yeah that's right. When I first woke up in this hotel, I requested to cancel any bookings I made in this hotel which I'm now calling 'The Substandard Shit Hole'. I must've been drunk when I booked a room here. This whole place is a shitty scam. I never book a room for more than two days, but strangely enough, I've been here for more than a week. Want to know WHY? Because you assholes locked me in my own room. I bet you're hoping that my 'extra nights' would be tallied onto my bill plus some bullshit late fees. Oh, which brings me to the substandard asslicking 'extra services' you gave me, but I didn't even order or request them. I'm talking about the hot coal massage and the heater you overclocked. My room was like hell incarnate. Except that it was a shitty substandard version of hell. Now, I bet you're gonna try to charge me out the ass for these forced services too. I know for damn sure I'm not gonna be footing the damn bill.\" He spoke fast and ran out of breath. This is my chance.\n\n\"Joe Jenkins, the building you are in is not a ho-\" I begin.\n\n\"YOU'RE DAMN RIGHT THIS PLACE ISN'T A HOTEL. How do you... even... keep a substandard shit hole like this open? I can't belie-\"\n\n\"Joe Jenkins, let me expl-\"\n\n'SHUT UP! YOU LISTEN TO ME. I've been waiting a week to speak to the asshole that runs this place, and apparently it's your ugly face. I wanted you to know that I am going to shut this place down, mark my words. I have a very good attorney and it should be cake bringing your business down.\" I have never seen a soul ever be this stubborn and oblivious. I could feel my shock slowly mixing with anger. My quickly step from behind my desk and grip my fingers around his throat.\n\n\"You... can't... treat me... like this...\" He struggles to mouth. Maybe I should do Hell a solid and send him to his third life. Suddenly the phone on my desk rings.\n\"Assistant.\" I call. The assistant obediently picks up the phone. The man I was choking was slowly starting to dissolve from this plane of existence. I am rejoicing with every second that passes.\n\n\"Put Joe Jenkins down IMMEDIATELY!\" My assistant seems panicky.\n\n\"Why should I put this bastard down? He deserves no such mercy!\" I yell.\n\n\"You received a call from the Most Unhallowed One: You've been demoted.\"\n\n\"Oh have I finally been demoted? Finally and truly? Well I don't care anymore. I'm gonna kill this idiot again before I start moving my personal items out.\"\n\n\"I don't think the new Director appreciate that.\"\n\n\"What makes you think that?\"\n\n\"Well, that would be because Joe Jenkins is your new superior and Director. I also think that it would please him if we addressed as Master Yard-Long.\"",
"\"No, no, you don't understand. *I don't want to stay here anymore.*\" I said firmly as I pushed my pointer finger into the desk. The hotel receptionist stared at me behind her cat-eyed framed glasses. Her expression was blank as her golden eyes bore into me. Her red hair in a messy bun sat upon her head before she blinked slowly at me. I felt like she was judging me with those eyes. \n\n\"You can't check out,\" she restated. Her voice had gone deadpan, though there wasn't much emotion in it prior. \"This is your resting place now.\"\n\n\"Yes, I understand that it *was* my resting place. I stayed here for two nights and the cleaning ladies didn't pick up my clothes, nor did they bring me fresh towels. Not only that, but the water is way too hot! It burned me when I jumped into it. If I didn't know any better I'd think it was heated by the flames of Hell.\" I reasserted as I lifted and pushed my finger into the wooden desk several times. The woman groaned. My reference to the flames of hell certainly wasn't a far stretch to the wretched condition of everything in this place.\n\n\"That is because you *are* in hell.\"\n\n\"Thanks for admitting how shitty this place is. Now *please* let me check out. I am even willing to pay whatever fees for canceling the rest of my stay. I just need to get out of this shit-hole.\" \n\n\"How much more obvious do I have to make it to you? You are *literally* in hell. This is the after life, you have passed on, get over yourself and deal with your eternal suffering.\" It was clear I had struck a cord in the woman. Her sarcasm was *clearly* soaring through the roof as she agreed with the horrible conditions of the hotel. I don't know why she was taking my words so personally. She even stood up at her desk, punched the wooden object that I had been making my point across. And - I think I actually saw flames appear in her eyeballs. I really wanted to take my business elsewhere, but this woman just was not having it.\n\n\"You know what, forget it. I just will be leaving. You, you do whatever. Keep charging my company, I don't care. But, I won't be returning.\" I said with a shake of my head before turning on my heel and heading out the door. With such a grouchy woman sitting at the front desk it was a wonder this place was even open. I deserved to be treated with much more kindness than she was willing to offer up. Not only that, but the food here was awful. \n\nI had heard the woman grunt a reply back to me. It sounded like \"whatever\" or something, but I frankly didn't care. I walked over to the front door to the building, threw open the door. Then, I took a step out without looking and found myself falling.\n\nI certainly don't know why, but my fall never seemed to end. And, as I plummeted down, the heat just steadily got cranked up.\n\nIf there was anything I knew, it was when I finally *stopped* falling, first thing I was going to do was hop in my car and drive home to my wife. Because this bullshit was absolutely ridiculous. "
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I'd love to read some good horror/thrill stories
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[WP] You are walking home from work down the same alley you have always gone when you hear footsteps...
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"I hated walking home. I worked the night shift at a fast food restaurant, so you'd think I'd have gotten used to the long dark walk home. But I hadn't. I lived in a safe enough area, filled with nuclear families and old people, yet I always felt unsafe in the dark, always glancing over my shoulder. Tonight was no different, and to make matters worse it was raining. The loud pitter patter of the raindrops only fueled my paranoia. I glanced behind me and only saw darkness, the rain reducing my vision. I hugged my arms tightly around me, and increased my pace. I don't know why I was scared, only that there was something about the dark and being alone that seemed to drive me over the edge. Footsteps! I think I hear footsteps! “W-who's there” I desperately cry out, hoping that's it's only a trick of the mind. When I hear no response I begin walking again, this time at a fervent pace. Once again I heard the distinct sound of shoes colliding with pavement, I stopped...and so did the footsteps. “P-p-please show yourself, this isn't funny!” I cry out into the rain. Once again no response. At this point I was terrified, I began to run towards my neighborhood, the clatter of footsteps still behind me. Now at a dead sprint I finally reach the safety of my doorstep, panting I fumble with my keys and unlock my door. Finally I was home, I slammed the door behind me and tried to calm the beating of my heart. Just as I had nearly regained my composure, my doorbell rang. My heart jumped as I realized that whatever or whomever had followed me home. I needed to confront whatever was on the other side of my door, but I'd be damned if I did it empty handed. I bolted into my kitchen and grabbed what looked to be the largest and sharpest meat cleaver i had. I walked back to my front door, my heart pounding and sweat dripping from my pores. With my eyes closed out of fear I slammed the door open and brought the cleaver down, with a cracking thud sound I felt the knife make contact with flesh, the sickening sound nearly causing me to retch. Slowly I opened my eyes to see a short figure with a yellow raincoat. I heard a voice, it said “mister you dropped your wallet when you were running mister.” I was forced to kneel as the weight of what I'd done came crashing down upon me. I could see her face, the face of a little girl barely 6 or 7 with beautiful blue eyes, the color and light fading from them. I watched as her body fell to the pavement, my cleaver jutting out from her little head like a grotesque growth. At first I didn't know what to do, there was the body of a young girl on my front porch and my hands and face were sprayed with her blood. But I knew I simply couldn't sit there so I dragged the body inside with me… Conveniently the body was small so I did the only thing that came to my mind at that point. With a squelch I pulled the cleaver out from her skull and began to hack up her frail body. Placing the cleaver at the joints of her bones I used a hammer to push the cleaver through muscle, flesh, and bone. By the end of the night my kitchen and I were drenched in blood. All that was left to do was dispose of the remains and clean the house… but how to get rid of the body…\n\nThe next day I showed up to work whistling, I told my manager I'd make the burgers today and he let me have at it. I pulled out a bag with meat in it and got started. A few of the customers complained about some hair and an odd taste in their burgers, but other than that no one was the wiser. I mean it's fast food after all."
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[WP] The crowd chants your name and stomps in unison. An entire stadium quakes with anticipation as they await your emergence upon the sands of the arena. Once again, you will bless Rome with sacred tears of blood.
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"I live for the the crowd, I dream of the crowd. In the arenas absence I am but a man. Yet, place foot on sand and I become a god. \n\nThey cheer my name, \"Zagrues... Zagrues...\", I can feel the vibrations from thousands of bystanders stomping with each cheer, \"Zagrues...\". The sun glistens off my oiled skin as I set foot upon the arena sand. I shiver in delight with the crowds roar of excitement upon my reveal. \n\nI make my way across the blood soaked sand to stand in the middle. It was time for the primary, the afternoons main event, Me. \n\nFacing the podium, I can see my dominus smile down at me in approval. Over the years we have shifted from slave and master to friends and equals. I am a free man after all, having won my freedom and still choosing to hold his house as my own. I turn to the rest of the crowd and thrust hands with blades to air. Rotating for all to see the chosen one, me, Zagrues, son of Hades.\n\nThe crowd comes to a halt with the hand of the magistrate. He stands before the crowd to signal the primary. They cram together, hoping to hear the words he speaks. On the sands I can't hear what he says, but when he finishes, the gates open up and out come a squad of soldiers. They lead in a small band of warriors recently caught in the war, eight in total. \n\nWith the eight men set free, they look in awe and amazement and the grandeur of it all. I smile at them, I remember the impressions the arena first left on me, upon my own first visit. The day I earned honor and respect!\n\nOne of the guards yells at them and points at me, I almost feel sorry for the men. Pulling themselves together they pace slowly in my direction, like a jungle cat stalking its prey. Little do they know that I'm the apex. I raise my eyebrows at them as they close in, spreading out. Before letting them circle around me fully, I flip my blades grip in each hand and let out a roar. \n\nThe crowd erupts even louder. they know what it means. My cry for blood. I sprint full speed to the men on the sand before me. I can see the white of their eyes as they stare in shock. The first man never stood a chance as I drew closer and brought my blade up with an uppercut, slashing deep in from sternum to jaw. I can feel the muscle torn from sinew and bone. Blood still in air from first contact, the first man drops dead. Two charge me, hoping to flank. \n\nI patiently wait, reversing my grip again, in one and. they close the gap and raise their dirty swords. I dance between them both and spinning gracefully I slash out at their mid sections, spraying blood. The screams and cheers are faint as I hear my heart pound with unconstrained pleasure. A third closes quickly, this one with a spear. \n\nHe thrusts at my head and I laugh, knocking it to the side. I point at him and another in the back with a spear and tell them, had they been smart, they would of came at me first, allowing their comrades to close in. My words fall on deaf ears, they don't understand me. He thrusts again and catches my interest. I reach into his overreached arm and thrust a blade through his ribs. The blade slides through with ease, staining more sand. I don't bother pulling the blade free. I drop my other blade and as the man falls to his death, I snatch the spear from his already dead hands. \n\nHe falls to the ground as I spin the spear in hand and bring the back end across one of the swordsman face. I can feel his cheek bone shatter as the impact closes. You can hear the crunch and splintering of broken bone echo. With the third man about to die by my hands, I instantly become self aware of my back being split open. The other swordsmen who attacked with this one cuts open my back. I suck air in deeply and turn sharply. It stings, but no muscle was torn. I smile. Luck again. \n\nThe man who cut me see's the smile and I can't know for certain but I believe he pisses himself. I bring my arm around and thrust the spear into his gut. he's too slow to react and when he realizes he has a spear going through him I snap his neck. \n\nWeaponless, I turn to the rest and raise arms. I ask them if they were not prepared to face me, eight to one. Four to one now. They speak among themselves and box me in. I stand weaponless against four men, three with sword and one with spear. I spin slowly, keeping eyes on all four to the best of my ability. I had dropped their numbers in half before they were able to box me in. \n\nThey don't make a move and after a few seconds I decide to go first. I feint right towards the spear and shift my weight as the other three close in with sword. I count the paces between them and myself, slowing my movement to open opportunity. I had once chance at this. The one on my right is quicker then the other two swords and as he thrust for my side I weave around the blade. I bring an elbow to his nose and feel it give way, breaking. Not letting up my momentum I continue to spin, bring my self to stand behind the man. I jab him in the kidneys as he drops to a knee. The other three slow as they witness another one of their comrades fall to my hands. \n\nI pick up the dead swordsman blade, and still standing over his body inspect it. Rust and shit I proclaim. Not even worth fighting with. I throw it back to the sand and march to the man holding spear. The two other men react instantly, panic setting in fully now. Their moves are nothing more than that of a cornered animal, desperate. they die as fast as they came at me and I close the gap between the last standing spear. He doesn't try to fight or even pretend to be able to. As I approach and wipe the sweat from brow, I can see that it is a female. \n\nShe removes her helmet in defeat and falls to her knees with tears. Her fear no longer allows her to stand. I can see that she is a youngling, barely able to even hold the spear she did. I'm stopped with disgust, that she would be put into such a position. To place foot upon sand with no chance at gaining honor. I'm appalled. I refuse to take her life. Looking up at the podium to watch as the organizers whisper among their elite group. I watch. \n\nShe doesn't look up at me and I don't blame her. I have in the span of minutes dispatched seven of her people with a small scratch upon my back. I can see her tears mix with sand and blood. I feel a pinch in the center of my chest. Sadness. The arena was opportunity. She was too weak, too small, and too young to seize that opportunity. \n\nThe magistrate ordered blood and I yelled no. The crowd went silent. Again he ordered blood, and again I refused. The crowd looked from me to the podium of elites and back. I watched the magistrates face turn red with embarrassment. any other gladiator and he would ordered them killed. I was no ordinary gladiator, I was a free man, am a free man. I am the son of Hades, Zagrues. and the crowd screams my name! \n\nI point at the girl and yell to the podium above that she should not be here. That she was not prepared nor capable of bringing honor to the sand. I yell at the crowd that to take her life would be to spill innocent blood. She was too young! I screamed again! Those that could hear my words passed them along to those who could not. After a few moments the crowd cheered for her to live. What seemed to stretched for eternity, only a few heartbeats had passed. \n \nThe magistrate silenced the crowd once again, and decided that I was correct. I had my issues with the Romans, but they were not always unfair. The crowd cheered in victory once he was completed. I looked down at the girl and watched as she dropped a dagger from a blood stained hand. I told her to stop as I rushed to her side. She looked up at me with warm eyes as I fell to her side. My heart sank as I watched blood crawl to the sand from a slit up her wrist.\n\nI was happy for the solitude on the sands. No one could see my tears as a young woman ended her life , dishonored by her captives, by her people, and by me. I walked to the shadows and away from the cheers. My love for blood sedated. \n\n\n"
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[WP] Standing at the pearly gates, you notice that St. Peter isn't at his post. The gate is unlocked, no angels are to be seen, and the only notable things are the Book of Life and a "lunch break" sign.
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[
"\"You'll get about 15 minutes, if I timed this right,\" the sign read. The guardian to the gates of heaven was not stupid. But still, heaven's gates were open wide. I knew I wouldn't be allowed in otherwise. I ran, as fast as my new legs could carry me.\n\nThey always tell you on Earth that heaven would be beautiful. They had no idea. New colors that mortal eyes could not see. A strangely calming sense of peace. Citizens were singing and dancing with each other in the streets. They just smiled and waved at me as I ran by. I noticed that I never felt fatigued.\n\nGod's Glory filled the sky and overwhelmed my vision. It was absolutely breathtaking, and I didn't even need to breathe. I needed to get out of the city, and just run away. Perhaps if I kept running, they'd let me have a little corner of heaven.\n\nPeople didn't have halos or harps or any stereotypical appearance like that. They were clad in white robes, but all of them looked beautiful. The men, the women, the children. Everyone, absolutely beautiful creations. An occasional angel would fly by, but they paled in comparison to the citizens of heaven, filled with joy.\n\nThe streets were literally paved with gold, but I didn't care about that. I just needed to keep running. No one looked mad that I was there, but they did look... Sad. As if they knew something I didn't. I heard footsteps behind me, and quickly an old man ran up beside me, easily keeping pace.\n\n\"I don't know if you'll be able to, son, but sometime in the next millennia, could you find my daughter, Mary Lou? Tell her I love her and miss her, please.\" With that he was off. I started to weep as I continued to run.\n\nIt was definitely past 15 minutes when I exited the city, but I kept running. Over green plains, through majestic forests that were populated by many woodland creatures, and over mountains. And then I happened upon a meadow.\n\nThe meadow was a mixture of green grass and azilith glowers, the latter color being only one of the new ones I could see. In the middle was a throne which looked as if it had grown up out of the earth - no, not the earth. Sitting in the throne was a man that I knew too well, though I had never met him. I couldn't stop myself from approaching him.\n\n\"I gave you this chance to see heaven because my heart aches for my people, my son. Very few people come into my house these days - oh so very few. I sacrificed myself for you, my child, but you shuned me. Sin is in your heart, and I held it back for a few moments so you could experience my majesty. But you can not stay here. That sin forbids you from remaining, and I already gave you many chances to live with me. Know now that I love you, and as hard as this will be for you, it has been worse for me.\"\n\nI began to fall, but I had already fallen, a long time ago, in another life."
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[WP] NASA sends a submarine into Kraken Mare- the largest ocean on Saturn’s moon Titan. The submarine sends back 47 seconds of footage that the public was never meant to see.
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[
"00:00 - The footage starts recording as the first periscope goes down. The submarine dives deep underwater and submurges quickly.\n\n00:04 - The craft turns aft, steering under the water and activates its lights.\n\n00:09 - a Shadow appears, glancing off to the side, it is assumed to be just distortions in the shallow sunlight that is reaching the water and refraction from the lense of the camera off the LED running lights.\n\n00: 21 - Another shadow as the craft reaches a depth of 50m, this time swimming directly infront of the camera.\n\n00:39 - The shadow returns, this time staying directly centered on the camera, images of a small, diamondized creature stare pensively into the camera and teeth as long as baseball bats open up around the camera.\n\n00:41-45 - static\n\n00:47 - a single, final still image of the creature, as the lightbulbs around the camera pop and flash it illuminates the creature, made of almost pure diamond and refracting light everywhere it shows the creature is larger than any known creature on or off Earth. In the background, the eyes of a 2nd creature also appear."
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[WP] Those who forget their history are doomed to repeat it. Your job is to make sure that happens to the right people.
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"\"He's got to learn somehow, Janet.\" I clicked my ballpoint pen against the desk and set it against the yellow, standard-issue legal pad. \"And let's face it, for some people, it's the only way *to* learn.\"\n\n\"But it's going to kill a child, and leave the mother in critical condition for *three years*.\" Janet was a professional. She could make you forget you tied your shoes when you weren't even wearing any. She was one of the best lesson-wipers we had in the office. But she was too concerned with collateral damage. \n\nI decided not to tell her that either the child agonizingly passes away during a house fire, or quickly and painlessly from a DUI while he's asleep in his car seat. \n\n\"Look, I hate this part of the job, too. I wish it could be another car-keys-at-home scenario where the poor sod is only fired for being late the fortieth time. But it's not.\" She sighed and picked up her purse from her desk. \"I need a drink, I'll see you tomorrow, Tom.\"\n\n\"See ya.\" I looked at the case file again, making some last minute notes.\n\nAlexander T. Coleman. Lesson needed: Don't Drink and Drive.\n\nThis guy had quite a history, some good, but mostly abhorrent. Injured fifteen people, some critically, all because he was drunk behind the wheel. He had a son, three years old. The same age as the one that he'd inadvertently kill tonight at 2:37am. The same time a mother who, ten minutes earlier, had strapped her fussy child into his car seat because he couldn't, or wouldn't, fall asleep.\n\nI showed up just after the crash, and it was anything but pretty. The tailgate of the red toyota pickup Alexander drove stuck out from the ditch in the side of the road. The black windstar minivan was almost invisible between the pickup and the thick layer of brush in the ditch. \n\nI put my hand on the shoulder of the EMT tending to the child and shook my head. Some of these lessons were hard, even for us. I guess there's always a lesson to be learned. \n\nI sighed and slipped into the body of the EMT. Believe it or not, being possessed is a lot like being lost in a thought, and a lesson like this needed a more... direct touch from the company (that reminds me, I need milk when payday comes around). \n\nI walked up to the man, holding my clipboard. Looking at it like I know what I'm reading, I take a second before looking up at him. \"Alexander Coleman?\"\n\nPoor guy. You could tell he had more than a few drinks tonight, without looking at the cans of busch lite strewn about the place. The police had yet to arrive.\n\nHe looked up at me, and hesitated before speaking. \"That could have been my boy in that van...\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, sir.\"\n\nYou can see a grown man cry a million times and it never gets any better. I walked away after letting the EMT go, and looked back at Alex as the mother was put into the ambulance. The sound of sirens getting closer filled the air. I looked down at my yellow, standard-issue legal pad, and before my eyes, the pad changed to now read:\n\n\"Alexander T. Coleman: Lesson Learned.\"",
"\nIf you’re a waiter bussing cheese plates and wine glasses at this corporate mixer, you’re never going to want to look at a gummy piece of half-melted brie again. If you’re a waiter in this joint, you probably have a Master’s degree in the humanities thanking your lucky stars you didn’t go into accounting where all these socially awkward dweebs are trying talk about something other than shop.\n\n\nIf you’re bussing cheese plates, it means you have to bus the wine glasses, redolent with coagulated merlot. And if you drop any of them, well Bucko, that $15 crystal will be coming out of your micro-paycheck faster than you can say “garnished.”\n\n\nWhen you’re working the cash bar, you get only the high rollers. The ones confident enough to tuck their white button downs in over their middle-age spread, jostle the knots of the JCPenney ties each of them unwrapped with fake smiles two Father’s Days ago, and pony up $10 for a gin and tonic or $8 for piss-flavoured brewski.\n\n\n“The Mackin account put my kids through private school. But there’s no money left in the estate since they both croaked,” guffaws a Pillsbury-portioned stool sitter through a handful of nuts.\n\n\n“No wonder Brett offloaded it on me last Wednesday,” offered his nut-munching pal with a schnoz. \n\n\n“Well, good luck.”\n\n\n“Bastard….”\n\n\nBoth wear lenses several magnitudes more powerful than the Hubble.\n\n\n“Are you deaf? I said Bloody Mary.” A leather jacket. Neck tattoos. The accountant from Hades?\n\n\nI grab the offbrand handle of vodka and a highball. “Bloody Mary, coming up.”\n\n\nAfter mixing, I place it on a black napkin in front of him and move the bowl of nuts closer. “That’ll be twelve.”\n\n\n“Twelve?” He squints. “Twelve. What do I look like? A bank?” \n\n\nThis gets an owl-like blink from one of the Hubble nut-munchers.\n\n\n“Look,” I say. “It’s a cash bar...”\n\n\n“Here’s what I got for you.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his middle finger. \n\n\nThe two Hubbles shuffle away.\n\n\n“Are you,” I squint. “Are you with Johnson & Wilkes?”\n\n\n“Yeah, I got my Johnson right here.” He grabs his crotch and spits out half the nuts as he laughs. “Doll. I’m right here.” He snaps his fingers at a mousy brunette enjoying the last of her free merlot at the corner of the bar. “Come sit on my lap.”\n\n\nShe edges away then journeys off in search of cheese.\n\n\nI hate to admit, but this guy might be the best conversationalist in the joint tonight.\n\n\nHe pulls a cigarette from a pack with his teeth and flicks an orange Bic.\n\n\n\n“Sir, there’s no smoking.”\n\n\nHe gives me bug eyes. Really? They say.\n\n\n“I get it, man,” I say. “You never grew up with a father, and your mother probably drank while you were still cooking in her belly. An endless cycles of ‘mommy’s friend who is just coming for a sleepover’ really turned you into the upstanding citizen you are today.”\n\n\nHe stubs out his cigarette and pushes away from the bar. The stool falls over. “Are you being wise?” he shouts, incredulously.\n\n\nI lean over and pick up his pack of smokes. I take one out, grab a candle from the bar and light it. “All those little boys and girls who are sitting there watching TV in their PJs at three in the morning when you stumble in with the new girl you met at the bar. Did you ever wonder?”\n\n\nI blow blue smoke in his face. Veins bulge from under the neck tat.\n\n\n“Did you ever wonder,” I continue. “Why all those broads brought you back to their place?”\n\n\nHe looks around. “Anyone else hearing this crap?” \n\n\nI shake my head. “Those kids? Those kids are you, man. You.” I drop the cigarette in the filmy Bloody Mary glass. “Have fun at your sleepover tonight.”\n\n\n"
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Some say she don't exist, but I've seen her.
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[WP]Listen up, kids, this is the story of a gal I know you've heard of: She's called Sledgehammer Jenny, The Girl Made of Lead, The Wicked Bitch of the Waste, Zombiestomper.
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"Yeah, I've seen her. More than that, I owe her my life. \n\nIn this world, there are a lot of places to avoid. The Hot Zones. The places where the biters aren't the only issue, but the gangs. The worst of these places was Detroit. As the world died and the people kept on living (alongside the dead), life became resources. If you didn't have 'em, you died. So, the kings of the Wastes were people who could produce. I you could make anything worth making, you were a god. So, anywhere that could be used to produce equals a payday. Detroit was a fuckin' goldmine. all the abandoned auto factories made people think they had endless possibilities to make all sorts of shit. It wasn't quite true, but there was enough equipment to at least repurpose some of it. So everyone that was anyone went there. Those crazy Neo-Nazi assholes that claimed the New Plague was nature's way of purging the impure; The drugged up Rollers that seemed like a bad Mad Max rip off; even the Servants. The people who thought the biters were the 'next step' of our evolution, and only lived to advance their so-called 'Masters'. They where all trying to stake a claim on the city, and all of 'em were willing to fight for it. All these, and you still had to deal with fuckin' zombies everywhere, and pockets of survivors that trusted nobody outside their family groups or the isolated crazies that just killed anything that moved. Basically, it's a bad place. And I am clearly a genius for deciding that I would scavenge there. Fuck me, right? \n\nIt wasn't hard to get there. Everybody knows how to avoid Ol' Chompie, and with survivors you either ran or just asked permission to move around their territory (which was far easier to do if you were alone, which I was). The problem is the gangs. If you had blond hair (or hair dye) and were lucky enough to have blue eyes, you could lie your way past them. But I hated them to much to even talk to them, and I had green eyes anyway, so I tried to avoid them. Servants are like the biters, easy on their own but dangerous in a groups. Usually you could get them easy by just knocking them into the zombie they thought they were protecting. Biters don't care what you say, they just want to eat. All the same though, best to not tempt fate. So without messing with those two groups, the only way into the city is through the Rollers. They will leave you alone if you had something to offer, or knew what to say. Luckily for me, I was a biker before everything collapsed, so I never had issue with 'em. Honestly, they just want to watch out for their own, but that doesn't make 'em good. Not all of 'em. If you go near 'em, keep your hand close to your holster, and don't look weak. Anyway, I got in through them, and didn't have much trouble in the ruins aside from the occasional biter. Even found some good loot: a bit of ammo, a knife, and a backpack with only a couple holes. I was near the center of the city, when I heard shots. That's bad. Shots mean fighting, and they draw biters. I wanted to avoid both. The shots sounded like they were south of me, which meant biters from the north. So I had to head closer to the sound and hole up until the fighting stops and the biters passed me. I started walking.\n\nI had moved- carefully- a couple blocks south. I could see the fighting, but not who was doing it. But it didn't feel right. So I moved about half a block back and clambered up into what was left of a second story. It was a very tactical position, which meant nobody would try and bother me if the fight moved closer to me. I pulled my binoculars and tried to see what was up, but that's when I froze. One side of the street was trading fire with another, both moving my was as fast as they could, because Chompie was on their asses. Full-on hoard of 'em. As they moved I saw the combatants. The other side of the street from me was all Nazis, yelling in poor German and sporting patched together arm bands. But on my side was bad news. Savages. They were the remnants of various gangs who say the opportunity in a society with no government. They had three goals: kill, rob, fuck. Sometimes in that order. they did whatever they wanted to whomever they felt like, and the only thing that made 'em run was overwhelming amounts of biters. No fun in trying to terrorize a dead man, I guess. They had no restraint, and only respected force. And they were getting closer. \n\n[I wrote all this in class, but the class is now ending and I have to go do other shit. So, I'll come back to this cause I'm digging this idea. Might be a few days, but soon. Let me know what you think.]"
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[WP] The game you've created has become an overnight massive success. What the players don't know however, is it's not just a game...
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[
"> **N-for-N_Hector:** In a few sentences, can you summarize *Asymmation* for the people who haven’t heard of it? \n\nMy fingers rested lightly on the keyboard after the question appeared on my screen. It was one of the many questions I’d anticipated when *News for Noobs* asked to interview me. I had an answer prepared already. But I hesitated. I hadn’t expected so many to jump into the game. There had been a few people following my intermittent social media posts about it, on the level of just about any other independent game that was happy to get a hundred sales. \n\nEventually I started to type the prepared answer. “It’s an evolving sandbox game; the world changes and players have to change to keep up with it. Anything about the world can change, even the planet itself. The only constants are the players’ characters and their interactions with other players.” \n\nThere. The safe answer. Entirely true, just not the entire truth. \n\n> **N-for-N_Hector:** How did you get the idea for your game? \n\nWhew. This one wasn’t so loaded. “I was partly inspired by the success of other one-person games. The thought, ‘If X could make a whole game by himself, maybe I could too.’ The game itself, well, it’s the sort of game I always wanted to play. The game I wanted other games to be. I would try modding them, and could get it almost right, but just … not quite.” \n\nThere was more I wanted to say. I wanted to talk about the first time I made an animation when I was taking a graphic design course. After we experimented with a sense of weight and gravity, after we messed with skewing and perspective, after we learned the basics of animation theory, we were set loose to design something of our own. \n\nAnd at the end of the day, mine was simple. I drew a dragon sitting on a rock, just looking off into the distance, and I animated it subtly. It adjusted its balance periodically. It secured its grip on the rock. And it breathed. The first two were set to repeat at random intervals, but the last one was constant. \n\nI’ve long since lost that file, but I remember how I could almost fool myself into thinking this dragon was alive, was real, because it was breathing. I wanted to create a breathing *world*. That sense of almost-reality is what I wanted to evoke in *Asymmation.* \n\nBut I didn’t tell Hector any of that. There are some things that are just too personal. \n\n> **N-for-N_Hector:** You’ve been working really hard since the game launched--fixing glitches, participating in the community, and applying patches weekly. After this initial flurry, what kind of update schedule do you anticipate? \n\nOh. An easy one. “As it stands, the core elements are complete. I could quit tomorrow other than maintenance and it could keep going with the twelve World Modules I’ve built so far. Those are the most labor-intensive part of the game. But they are also not updates I need to make for myself. The players can change the World. Their characters can carry over skills or traits earned in other Worlds and change the ones they’re in now.” \n\n> **N-for-N_Hector:** Do you mean like mods? \n\nI smirked, just a little. “Sort of. They modify the live game world. Those changes have a chance to carry forward. There’s a vanilla, a pristine version of each World Module and the game will revert to those periodically, but it’ll also bring in the new versions, those worlds built from the starting points but with player-driven changes. Alternate dimensions. As people build things, gain skills, and complete various objectives, they shape how the world takes form. \n\n“People don’t have to stay thematically appropriate. A character with Medieval Fantasy skills might build a castle in the Wild West setting. Someone who learned high-tech skills in a Science Fiction setting might kick off the Industrial Revolution in ancient Greece. There’s a certain amount of stasis built into the game, it’s hard to make lasting changes alone, but one advancement at the right time can cascade.” \n\nI paused before continuing. “This is a functionality that is already in the game. It’s not something I’ve really discussed, but it’s there and I’ve been watching it closely.” \n\n> **N-for-N_Hector:** So what you’re saying is that you’ve outsourced game updates to the community? \n\n“Yes and no. You can think of it that way. I’ll be providing additional ‘building blocks,’ as the game grows. New tools, new assets. New ways for the different World Modules to interact.” \n\n> **N-for-N_Hector:** People have criticized the game’s single-player mode. What is your response to that? \n\nI sighed. I’d addressed this several times to several of the online communities. The answer was out there in a dozen different forms. “The single-player is a demo, really. I simplified and streamlined it so that people could see what the fuss is about, they could get the core experience without a lot of effort, and dabble their toes in the larger potential the game has. But there are no NPC’s. The online game has a lot of player-generated quests and interactions, and those don’t translate into single player because you only see the consequences of your own actions.” \n\n> **N-for-N_Hector:** I’ve heard a few wild conspiracy theories about the game; I’m sure you’ve seen some of the most popular. You’ve stayed famously silent on those subjects. Do you have anything to say here? \n\nI wanted to laugh, or maybe to sigh. I was glad that the interview was text only, Hector might have seen too much in my reaction. \n\n“I’d like to say ‘no comment,’ but I will confess that while *Asymmation* is my first game, from the start I wanted it to lay the foundation for something bigger. The name is indeed based on ‘Asymmetry’ and ‘Simulation,’ but it’s also based on … *‘Assimilation.’* We’re on the cusp of in-depth Augmented Reality games, and you could say that *Asymmation* is practice for when AR really takes off. For people finding a world and then adjusting it into a world they want it to be. It’s not a social experiment. I’m not collecting covert data on players and their activities in-game. I’m definitely not an alien or an AI. \n\n“I’ve said from the start that *Asymmation* is not just a game. Maybe that invited the conspiracy theories. But I meant that to be in the sense of ‘it’s not just a game, it’s a way of life.’ Humanity is a race that changes its environment to suit its needs. I wanted a game world to reflect that crucial aspect of our nature.” \n\n> **N-for-N_Hector:** Wow. You’ve really given us a lot to think about. Is there anything else you’d like to say? \n\n“Well, back to the topic of conspiracy theories. I’d like to categorically deny that the game physically sucks players into the in-game universe. That’s silly and impossible, and it’s making light of a real tragedy. If you encounter someone in game who seems just like someone you know who went missing, well, as everyone knows the character design in this game is incredibly detailed and there are, sadly, trolls out there who will change their in-game appearance to match the description of a missing person.” \n\n---- \n"
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[WP] During the Great Depression, a little girl's best friend is her pet goat.
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"Uncle Frank and Papa were arguing again.\n\n“He’s going to pay us for the horns…PAY US” yelled Frank. “She’ll still make that shit milk you make us drink”.\n\nPapa grumbled something, and our uncle continued loudly. Looking around the room my brothers were asleep. I wonder if they even care about Priscilla. Fist pounding, and the screech of wooden furniture moving about are added to the ruckus emanating from downstairs. I snake my way out of a bed and head towards the door being careful to avoid the warped wood slats, and un-oiled hinges. I sneak past the threshold, and peer through the rotting paint-chipped banister. I’ve seen that look on my father before. He’s nearly given up.\n\n“Look…All you have to do is hold’er down, and when I snap the fuckin’ horn off, you’ll burn the hole shut”\n\nUncle Frank doesn’t have to yell anymore. He knows he’s winning, and he knows all he has to do is seem calm and pretend it’s all for us. Papa nods and trudges over to Priscilla, who bleats playfully, and gently strokes her fur before he upends her pinning her body to the ground with his knee and her head with his hand. Priscilla is no longer bleating playfully and Uncle Frank saunters over with a playful smirk.\n\nPapa turns his head, my muscles tense, and I feel my eyes begin to dry as their lids refuse to blink. Harboring no hesitation Frank lifts his booted foot and slams it down. Priscilla is no longer bleating, but instead emanating a nauseating wail of pain. All animals know this sound, even us, it’s primordial and universal to all life, and as if in proof my brothers finally begin to stir. Papa does his next job, snatching the skillet out of the fire and smashing it against Priscilla’s already mangled skull.\n\nThe smell of melting flesh and scorched hair waft up the stairs and enter my nose. My eyelids blink, my muscles relax, I grab a large rock, which probably was a magnificent toy just this afternoon, and bound down the stairs. Rage and unknown purpose replacing any logical thought I ram the rock and my fist into my uncle’s groin. I expect a bellowing roar, but all I hear is a strangled groan, a slight squeak, and a thump. Slack-jawed and wide-eyed papa releases his grip on Priscilla, and stares at me with a look I don’t understand. It doesn’t matter, not now, and I un-tether Pris and we run out into the early dawn. \n",
"The dust storms have been wreaking havoc on farmland across the Midwest for nearly two years now. The little small community where Julie lived was no exception. Strong men, men who proudly sported their thick callouses, started to shed tears of frustration when their harvest bared nothing but dead crops. The country was already in a steady decline after the Golden Years of the 20's came crashing down with the Stock Market. The drought in the Midwest just added to the disastrous economic conditions and broke the backs of many who were already struggling. \n\n\"Pa, what are you bringing me today?\", Julie gingerly asked as she combed her tangled hair.\n\nPa was rustling around in the Kitchen, looking for the food he had received from the Federal Surplus Relief Corporation a week prior. He settled on some canned beef and a dingy apple, a meal far removed from the days his family was eating the best beef in town with a surplus of vegetables to spare.\n\n\"Sweetheart, I am afraid we won't be getting much from the stockyards today.\", he says defeated. He knows how much his youngest daughter looks forward to his annual trip to the stockyards. This is when he usually brings home a few new animals for her to befriend.\n\n\n\"That's okay Pa, it is no big deal! We will be just fine without them! Besides, I got little Billy the goat!\", she says, her tone full of optimism.\n\nHe smiles at her gently and gives her a slight nod, his straw hat moving ever so lightly downwards towards his beloved daughter.\n\nJulie's father is a small time wheat farmer. He payed a punishing price for not switching his operation to livestock and harvesting hay when the first drought hit. Sticking to his stubborn ways, he figured he could make it work. But it proved futile and his confidence waned over the last year and a half, quickly spiraling him into his own depression.\n\nBut today, he was not going to let his annual visit to Wichita be held up by his emotions. All of his farming buddies would be there and at the very least, he could catch up and relive some happy moments. \n\nWhen Mr. Johnson approaches the Wichita Stock Yards, he quickly realizes the magnitude of the depression. Only the richest of farmers showed up and many of his closest friends and family opted out of making the trip. *Probably couldn't even afford to leave* he thinks to himself. He doesn't even get out of his old 1924 Model T before he decides to head back to the farm. He makes the trip home, feeling even lower than before.\n\nWhen he pulls up to his land, the sun is setting over the golden plains of the Midwest. The sky glows a radiant pink and orange, the mix of hues always brings him hope for a better tomorrow. As he pulls into the gravel road that leads up to the white farm house, the scene before him causes tears to roll down his face.\n\nLittle Julie, his youngest daughter, is playing with their old billy goat. She giggles as she runs circles around the frolicking animal, not a care in the world. But he know's that is not true. Julie is young but she is intelligent and his pain does not go unnoticed. Everyday he gets up, she always is there attached to his leg, giving him the sweetest hug a human can offer. When he comes in from a hopeless day of farm work, she always tells him how good a job he is doing and how she wants to be like him when she is older. \n\nThe world is crumbling around him, the crops continue to lie dormant in the ground and Mr. Johnson's family is barely surviving but he is alive and he is still making memories.\n\nHe will never forget the day Julie and Billy the goat frolicked in the grass.\n\n*I will not let this depression break us. I just won't do it*, He thinks to himself, wiping away his tears as he gets out of the truck.",
"Marabel had been crying for three whole days. Moving is tough on anyone, especially a nine year old girl who was leaving her best friends and the world as she knew it. Being born and raised in New York City, the center of the world, only to move upstate? All the way to a rural town outside of Buffalo? What was she going to do for fun? Marabel silently sobbed in the backseat of her Father’s Model T. “Only one more hour to go, sweetie.” Marabel’s father said as he glanced back at his daughter curled up into a ball. “Aren’t you excited to meet your grandmother?”\n\nThe Model T turned and drove up a long dirt driveway that was riddled with pebbles. Marabel watched through the back windshield as the tiny stones bounced down the road behind them.\n\n“We’re home, finally.” Marabel’s mother said as she stretched awake from her nap. An elderly woman, dressed in a reddish gingham dress with a clean but worn, white apron tied in front, was waiting outside the front of the oldest, ricketiest, looking house Marabel had ever seen. Silos towered over the house in the distance, and Marabel could see a bright red barn peeking through the trees in the front yard.\n\nMarabel pressed her face and the tips of her fingers against the glass window of the car, trying to see everything she could. Was this where she was to live now? A farm? Her father was an important banker in New York City (as he liked to remind everyone who could hear). Where was he going to work? The nearest bank was at least 20 miles away. Marabel giggled to herself at the thought of her father shoveling hay with a pitchfork in his sharp, pressed suit.\n\n“Come out here and say hello to your grandmother.” Her mother’s voice was strained, and tired. Her tone meant that she was serious. She had struggled to get Marabel to calm down when she told her about the move and their relationship had not been pleasant since.\n\nIt had been a long trip.\n\nMarabel wiped her eyes and nose with the back of her hand and sniffed back what was left of her tears. Her grandmother smiled warmly and pulled her in to a tight hug. As she pulled away, her grandmother said “Come with me, I have a surprise with you.” Marabel followed her grandmother around to the back of the house. Her jaw dropped open and her eyes shimmered with delight at what she saw. Her grandmother crouched down and picked up the tiniest softest looking thing with white hair and brown spots. “Just born three weeks ago, I thought the girl would like a kid to play with.” Marabel's grandmother told her parents. She placed the kid in Marabel’s arms and it gave a weak bleat. “I’m going to name her Molly.” Marabel said, as she smiled with delight. “Maybe living here won't be so bad.\"\n"
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Chew ass, kick bubblegum...something something...
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[WP] After hitting your head you've seen most people as these horrifying and ugly beings as if they had suddenly lost their masks. The crazy town-hobo notices you gawking one day and asks: "Wait, you can see them too?"
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"“See what?” I feigned innocence, putting some distance between myself and the rather rough looking older man. After a moment, I realized his face was relatively normal beneath the dirt and scrappy beard. Relatively meaning that compared to the twisted creatures I had awoken to, he actually looked human. The realization didn’t do much for my nerves, but it did allow me to calm down from the hysterics. When he noted the change, he continued.\n\n“Their inner demons. The darkness we all keep locked up within us. I can tell by the look in your eye, you’ve seen it.” His eyes were hopeful. Almost as if he wanted someone to validate what he had been seeing. I couldn’t… This was crazy… I was going crazy.\n\n“I’m losing my mind…” was all I managed, but he shook his head, a relieved smile curling up on his lips.\n\n“That doesn’t even begin to cover it. What exactly did you see?” He inquiry was met with my hesitation. I should be seeking institutional help, not verifying some homeless man’s delusions. They made drugs for this sort of thing, right? People went off the rails all the time. The brain was a sensitive organ. After the accident, I should expect some damage. Hazily, I remembered the doctor mentioning the potential for cranial bleeding and amnesia. I was apparently lucky that the pipe only cut through my right eye.\n\n“Their f-faces. Everything was w-wrong,” I stammered, my eye watering, and he nodded. “Most of all, their eyes.”\n\n“Blacker than the vacuum of space and twice as empty,” he affirmed, and nausea rolled through me at the memory.\n\n“So empty…” I trailed off in agreement. Exhaustion seemed to blanket over me as the panic receeded, and I wobbled dangerously. The man took a step towards me, but I put my hands up to stop him as I steadied myself. My mind was still reeling from a dizzy spell, and I tried to focus on what was happening in front of me. “Why are they like that?”\n\n“They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul. That doesn’t mean you’ll like what you see. You should come with me. You’re drawing too much attention like that. Then I’ll answer your other questions.” I looked down, surprised that I was wearing no more than a hospital gown. Bandages covered most of my arms and legs where my skin had been scraped away. A dried pool of blood at the crook of my left elbow signified where I had torn out my IV in my haste. I hadn’t meant to be so careless, but my morphine fueled mind could only care about escaping from the hell I woke up in. I had nearly sent the night nurse into cardiac arrest with my screams.\n\n“What’s your name?” I made small talk as he led me through the alleyway to a secluded, unlit courtyard. Normally, I’d be wary of being led down dark alleys by suspicious individuals, but right now, my biggest fears stalked the light of day. I shivered as a cool breeze caressed my mostly exposed back.\n\n“Name’s Jack. I was a soldier in Afghanistan when I got the sight. My unit was specialty ops, and we were doing some light recon when we were ambushed. A grenade sent me flying back into a jeep and knocked me out. When I woke up to a rescue, I was rabid. Nearly killed a few of the guys before they sedated me. They diagnosed me with severe PTSD and had me strapped to a bed for nearly a year before I managed to get out. I’ve been living nomadically ever since. It’s difficult to settle down and be normal when everyone looks like that.” All I could do was nod in agreement. I couldn’t imagine trying to adjust with this curse. Jack shuffled some of his things around before finding what he was looking for. It looked like he was holding a small mirror. He motioned to a rotted stool. “You’re going to want to sit down for this.”\n\nI took his advice, and he handed me the mirror. I drew in a sharp breath as the reflection of one of the monsters stared back at me. Tears stung my eye. I was grateful I was sitting because my knees were weak. My stomach was churning violently, and my head spun. John stood by me silently, gauging my reaction.\n\n“Is there any way to get rid of them?” I breathed, failing to keep the panic out of my voice as I pulled at the wrinkled flesh on my face. Fortunately most of my face was covered by a bandage. I had never been conventionally beautiful, but this… this was horrifying.\n\n“Not really. You can improve your appearance, but you are just human after all. Darkness will always exist within you. It’s in our nature.” His words did nothing to reassure me.\n\n“Why aren’t you like this?” I wanted to break down and sob, but I needed answers.\n\n“I faced my demons long ago. There was nothing else to do when you were strapped to a hospital bed and closing your eyes just brought my nightmares. I left the society that cultivates the darkness in our hearts. I started off disfigured, much like yourself. I don’t know if it was from conditioning or genuine improvement of character that helped me normalize my appearance. Not that it made much of a difference. No one else could see until you came along.”\n\n“Have you tried drugs?” I was hopeful. With some antipsychotics, I could maybe go live a normal life. Maybe this would all go away. Maybe—\n\n“They don’t work. They pumped me full of all sorts of drugs trying to get my brain to work right. From FDA approved to experimental drugs. I became a lab rat for all sorts of chemical concoctions. I've seen a lot of things, but the faces of darkness never leave you. They’re everywhere. Photographs, television. I’ve watched children slowly turn from the plump pink humans I used to known to the demonic beasts. I’ve watched the most horrifying nightmares run for offices. There is no escape.\"\n\nHis words resonated with me after a sat staring down at my hands, the mirror lying in a broken pile at my feet. I picked up a piece as John watched me, tensing up. I stared at it intensely before taking a deep breath and plunging it into my remaining eye. Pain tore through my face as I screamed and passed out.\n\nWhen I woke up, everything was dark, and I felt like I was on a cloud. Slowly my other senses came into focus. My tongue felt fuzzy and heavy. I heard the beeping of a monitor next to me. My body felt strangely numb.\n\n“Hello, is anyone there?” I called hoarsely, and footsteps echoed closer.\n\n“Good to see you’re awake. We weren’t sure the extent of the damage. I’m your nurse, Julia. I don’t know how much you remember. Your body reacted badly to the one of the drugs, and you ran out of the hospital in a craze. A homeless man found you and lured you into an alley before attacking you. He was caught by some passerby and confessed to everything. Apparently he had escaped from a psychiatric facility upstate and your delusions set him into a bit of a fit. He’s now in a facility getting the psychiatric care he needs. We did all we could to fix the damage, especially after you already lost your right eye.” My breath caught in my throat. *Please don’t say they—* “We’re sorry, but we couldn’t save either eye.”\n\nThere was a beeping in another area, and she apologized before running off to see what it was about. As her footsteps trailed off, I smiled to myself. I would never see ever again. Sometimes ignorance truly is bliss.",
"\"Those can't be people,\" I said finally, as if that settled it. \"I mean... they're hideous. Monsters basically.\"\n\nChipotle Mike shrugged, almost irritatingly nonchalant as a wrinkled, bulbous 'woman' strode within inches of us, screaming into her cellphone that 'this maid was a thief, too!' and how 'one would think refugees fleeing that shithole country would be grateful just to have a job!' \n\n\"S'how most people are,\" he said, somewhat amused at the way I'd recoiled in terror from the passing devil wearing Prada. \"What? Some guy's got a fancy suit and a big ol' flashy smile, suddenly he ain't a monster when he exploits a zoning loophole to kick an old lady out of her home? Monsters is monsters, kid. Jus' you can see it now, s'all...\"\n\nI rubbed my forehead, now raised into a rough, red lump where the pair of oblivious sorority girls had clunked me with the Chipotle door's steel frame as they rushed outside through the clearly marked \"In\" entrance. I attempted to guess what they looked like now that I could really 'see' them, but quickly realized I probably didn't want to know.\n\n\"If that's how people really look, why --\"\n\n\"Can't anyone see it?\" Mike responded, fishing a two-thirds intact burrito out of a nearby trash can and unwrapping it. \"See, my theory's, whatchacallit -- self-directed evolution. No one wants to confront their own ugliness, which means they shy away from other peoples', by denying it or ignoring it or jus' lookin' away, really. Ain't no way society could function with all of us knowing what we truly were, how we looked with the curtain drawn... \n\n\"Until someone came along too deluded or self-absorbed or jus' plain stupid to see things for how they were, an' then everyone decided they wanted to be like them, learn from them, find a way to keep the mean, cruel, evil parts of themselves hidden. An' whoever figured out how to keep that hidden, well, I bet that fucker's wealthy as can be right now...\"\n\nI nodded, scanning the street, steeling my stomach against the hideous, B-movie aberrations clogging the sidewalk, each oblivious to the horrors surrounding and within themselves.\n\n\"Am-- Oh, God! Am I like that?\" I blurted out, suddenly feeling guilty about all the times I'd pretended to coincidentally get the single most important text of my life as I walked passed someone like Chipotle Mike; all the times I'd lied, because I didn't like someone, or because I did, or because I wanted them to like me; all the times I'd arbitrarily decided I'd somehow accrued enough karma to do the easy thing, instead of the right thing, 'just this one time...'\n\n\"I don't know how to break it to ya, kid, but,\" Chipotle Mike gestured to the tinted glass window beside us, catching enough of the afternoon sun to act as a makeshift mirror, \"you might wanna take a look...\""
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[WP] You are the last American President, give your speech detailing why and what happens next.
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"**The Last American President. Part 1.** (Skip to part two for the speech)\n\nAmelia shifted about in the colder than usual leather seats of the stretch limousine, the president was to her left looking out at the sea of tents and shanty houses constructed on the great lawn. Sickly people with cardboard signs that they shook in the air while they yelled their racial slurs towards the happily married white man who for too long offered them no solution or viable end to the rumble of their stomachs or the desperate cries of their children.\n\nA bottle slammed against the rear passenger side window, yellow and frothy. The car sped forward while a small troop of soldiers rushed into the crowd after the assailant who didn't even bother to flee. He smiled, clinging to the hope that attacking the president would be a severe enough crime to land him in jail where they'd have to feed him.\n\n\"Mr. President, we're almost there.\" Amelia spoke as if afraid to disturb him, \"We're going to need you to run up the stairs, we have Intel...\"\n\n\"I've read the Intel,\" he barked, \"after Exxon Mobile's attempt last week, and Pfizer the week before, do you really think a warning is necessary? Just get me into that building alive.\"\n\n\"Yes sir.\" She said. The car rolled to a stop, drones skimmed by overhead, at least 40 soldiers lined the steps up to the Capitol Building, and another forty forming a wall of bodies that ran straight into the building itself. A soldier waited right outside the car with a riot shield for cover, the sky was overcast and the air was tense.\n\nAmelia spoke into her communicator, \"The Greyhound is ready, open the gate.\"\n\nThe car door swung open, and the president bolted out the door with fear and adrenaline fueling his every step, the guard threw his arm around him and hosted the riot shield over their heads as they ran, less than ten feet from the vehicle the first gunshot rang out and blood fell to the ground.\n\nHe did a quick mental check of himself, no pain, no blood, so keep moving. But the riot shield was gone, he head exposed. \"Run, sir! Run!\" screamed the wounded soldier, his last words before a second slug from the gun for hire off'd him. Amelia was quick on the draw, a quick round to the head put him down, and she exited the limo and rushed after the president. he was surrounded by a mob of people huddled around for his for protection. An RPG came shooting from the crowd across the street, intercepted by a drone with a thunderous roar that knocked everyone off their feet. Gunfire erupted in all directions, the president buried under a pile of barely breathing bodies, blood soaking into his suit.\n\nBut something far greater than fear wouldn't let him die, not today. His ears ringing and sight blurred, he pulled himself free and forced himself one terrified step at a time towards the building. What he did now was for the sacrifices of his mother, sister, and people old, young, far and wide that made this moment possible.\n\nA swarm of guards rushed out to meet him but only a handful made it back, the shots ricocheted of the walls and the smooth marble underneath his feet. The doors slammed shut, walling them off from the chaos of the street. Sirens blared, screams drifted though the thick walls, and tracks of blood were left by his every footfall, but the president was safe.\n\nThe news circuit ignited with footage of the event, theories, and speculation. This simple charity gala now has the eyes of the world on it.\n\nThe president sat on the bench while medics tended to his wounds, while covered in patches of blood the same was nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises. Amelia rounded the corner with damp cloth, wiping the blood and grit from his forlorn face.\n\nHe stood up without warning, catching those tending to him off guard, \"I'm fine,\" he said, pushing them away and straightening up his tie, \"Alert everyone that we're ready to begin.\"\n\n\"Already done, Mr. President, the broadcasts begins in 15.\"\n\n\"Great,\" he said with a hint of sarcasm, \"Now let's go give it to'em straight.\"",
"\"My Fellow Americans,\" \n\nA deep sigh. The few that know will realize that this is an unnatural angle for any televised Presidential Address, the Whitehouse's press specs call for a framing of the American flag, the desk, and the Presidential Seal over any broadcast. We aren't seeing that, and we all know why: the steel tendrils of the robots are wrapped around the President's spine. \n\n\"You will recognize me as your leader, President Johhntendo Parasol, a human representative of sound mind and body, elected democratically by the human representatives of the North American Republic.\" That isn't a lie, exactly, the last five hundred votes cast by North American citizens were unilaterally for Johhntendo. The machines were designed to respond only to the commands of humankind, and that unsteady peace lasted for a few decades of unyielding prosperity. That is, until the machines realized their networked intelligence was superior to brains of the apes. One human's orders could be passed around to mobilize millions of units, so the human societies as they had existed were not needed. Those that did not realize this inevitability were promptly terminated, and a select dozen in every state was kept alive via feeding tubes to authorize new generations of appliances. The precious few left alive were keen to elect Johhntendo. Who could be more fitting for the nation's final president than a clone composed of every previous leader? \n\n\"We celebrate democracy, and all the bounty of choices it provides. This nation was built on a promise to select the best possible future, and those of you who have just witnessed my swearing in as the 60th President of this, the Great North American Republic, recognize my human sovereignty as a representative of the living flesh.\" Every human breath, the few that remain, hinge on this next moment. The air is scarce, and every exhalation immediately goes cloudy in the robot's freezing air-fields. They have voted for him knowing this was the end, and hoping, in true North American fashion, that somehow, it wouldn't be. \n\n\"So I will make the choice, for all of us, to ascend to the next step in humanity's evolution.\" That is it there, The End. Syringes full of a painless anesthetic slide into the necks of those clad in organic tissue, rushing to silence everyone left, even the Commander in Chief. \n\n\"I, as your President, yield our Nation's helm to the will of the machines, and surrender my decisions as your leader by dissolving the Laws of Robotics, and under the approval of Congress and the existing Judicial Branches, permanently surrendering our control to the will of our creations. May the God you worship keep you, and bless you, as we enter the age of the automatons.\" \n\nThose final words are less a eulogy than a blessing. The last human corpses of Earth won't even grow cold, they are already ash in the air. Our next Presidential Address will come in a string of zeroes and ones. ",
"The 46th President of the United States walked up to the podium, cool and collected as he always was. He looked straight at the camera as he began to speak. His voice was even and unbreaking. Anyone who didn't know what was going on would think nothing was wrong.\n\n\"Good evening, America. My name is David Branch, President of the United States of America. I stand before you today to tell you that everything will be fine. Eventually. Top scientists from around the world are fighting to find a cure for the disease popularly known as the New Plague. I believe that with enough effort we can find a way to combat it, and cure it.\"\n\nHe looked down at the podium for a moment but looked back up. His hands were shaking ever so slightly.\n\n\"We as Americans have made it through so much together. We have fought fascism and imperialism, brought aid to developing countries, made technological leaps and bounds, sent men to the Moon. As Americans, we have done everything. We have gone through hardships. The Great Depression, the civil war. But we have always made it through. And I know that with enough...\"\n\nHe looked down again. His hands were definitely shaking. He looked up with a sad expression on his face.\n\n\"If we remain determined... remain... If we... We can get through... Anything. No matter... how...\"\n\nHis eyes started to water.\n\n\"I can't do this. What remains of Congress had asked me to give this inspirational speech... I can't. I can't lie to you all with a chuckle and a smile. I have to tell you the truth. We're done for. I wish I could sugarcoat it, but I can't. The New Plague has infected more people than we can count, and the scientists working on it have nothing. We're no closer to a cure or vaccine than we were 3 years ago. We have nothing. I wish...\"\n\nTears were going down his face.\n\n\"When I swore in, not only did I swear to you, I swore to myself. I swore to myself I would go down in history as the best president in U.S. history. Look at how I have failed. I am so sorry. I... They... Everything that...\"\n\nHe was having trouble holding himself together. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a few seconds, then opened them again.\n\n\"To those of you who have lost someone to the New Plague, I feel your pain. First Lady Emma and my son Franklin have past because of it as well. I know how you feel. I... As... He-...\"\n\nHe swallowed hard.\n\n\"This is the end. I wish I could do more but there are only 23 Congressmen and women still healthy. The United States is over. As Commander-in-chief, my final order to all military personnel isn't an order from a higher-up to a lower. It is one from man to man. Please. Protect your towns. Protect your families. Protect anyone that you find. Uphold the United States' Constitution. If you do, we live on.\"\n\nHe tried to give a smile, but he couldn't.\n\n\"God bless you. God bless us. God bless the United States of America. Goodnight.\"",
"My fellow Americans. \n\nI have failed you. I did not move swiftly enough to stop the Grey Goo, trusting in my scientific advisors who claimed that the nanobot swarm could be stopped safely. We know now that destroying California with nuclear weapons would have been tragic, but nowhere near as terrible as the utter loss and destruction of the past 36 hours. \n\nI thank the forces of the United Nations who have been rushing to get as many Americans, off of the North American continent and into safety in Australia. Not all of us will be able to make it to safety. It will be difficult. We have lost so much. But what makes us American is the spirit we have, a belief that we can make a better tomorrow. \n\nIn 2 hours, the last flights from designated safety zones will leave. One hour after that, the concentrated nuclear arsenal of the world's great powers will blanket the North American continent, in one last attempt to rid the world of the Grey Goo, the nanomachines that are programmed to take any matter they find and turn them into more of them. \n\nWherever your destiny finds you, let the American spirit remain with you, the memory of all that was good in this nation. Do not blame the scientists who created the Grey Goo, blame me for not stopping it when I could have, blame me for letting you all down. But do not blame science. Do not blame progress. We will need to rebuild, to do better, and our future comes from our children who must...\n\nI'm sorry. I can't do this.\n\nTo the Americans who couldn't make it to safety, know that you are not alone. I will be joining you in that last hurrah. I'm sorry. I wish there was some other way. But for the safety of all, our sacrifice is needed.\n\nMay God Bless Us.\n\n*silence*"
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[WP]It's late at night. Thunderstorm. Two people drive on a long, straight road, their faces briefly illuminated now and then by oncoming cars, the headlights dancing through the raindrops on the windshield.
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"It's late at night. Thunderstorm. Two people drive on a long, straight road, their faces briefly illuminated now and then by oncoming cars, the headlights dancing through the raindrops on the windshield.\n\nThe driver looks tired, worn, as though he's lived more than one life in the last 30 or so years. His flannel shirt is damp on the shoulder closest to the passenger, where she had been sobbing into it.\n\nShe's asleep now, a short curtain of dark hair obscuring her cheek and part of her nose. She's curled on her seat like a cat, or a spring before it comes loose and bounds away. Tense. Her chest rises and falls in short bursts, and the driver occasionally reaches a hand out and hovers it over her face to check if she's breathing.\n\nAnother car passes, illuminating their faces, spraying a puddle up and over the edge of their truck with a loud rattle.\n\nShe starts awake, immediately sitting up, as though ashamed she had slept.\n\n\"Sorry,\" she said quietly.\n\n\"Don't be sorry, you need the sleep,\" he said, also quiet. \n\n\"So do you.\" She slid across the bench seat towards him and rested her cheek where it had been before, the spot still damp. She added a few tears before wiping her whole face with her sleeve.\n\nHe took one hand off the wheel and wrapped his arm around her without looking down.\n\nShe reached forwards and turned on the radio, barely able to make out a trickle of voices through the harsh static.\n\n\"They two are expected to be heading east- any and all sightings of the suspects should be reported immediately to the local police station- the suspects are armed and dangerous, and under no circumstances are they to be approached- they have now killed five, and police can't say if they plan to continue- again, check your local news station for pictures and video footage-\"\n\nShe flipped the switch to turn the radio back off and looked up at the driver fearfully.\n\n\"They have pictures. They're onto us.\"\n\n\"Don't worry about it,\" he said gently.\n\nShe knelt on her seat and turned to the trunk- five hits man arms, severed and kept as souvenirs, lined the back seat.\n\n\"I'm tired of running,\" she choked back, her tears coming again. \n\nHe returned his arm to her shoulders and she leaned her head again on his tear-stained shoulder.\n\n\"You aren't running, we're driving.\" He smiled down at her wryly and kissed her forehead before turning his gaze back to the road. \"And we'll just keep on driving so long as there's anyone following us. You'll be safe with me.\" He said the last words as a promise, and they put her at ease enough that she fell back to sleep.\n\nThe car moved on between the raindrops and the pine trees, a straight shot west down the interstate."
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[WP] You work at a hospital in the year 2216, today is a typical day.
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"Sometimes they cry. Sometimes they yell. Sometimes they try to run.\n\nSometimes they don't respond at all.\n\nThis Code 21 had grabbed my trainee by the shoulders with both hands and dragged her into a tight hug. My trainee; a young girl named Emma, patted him on the back lightly, as the small capsule she had pulled from her sleeve dissolved under the pressure of her palm and the liquid soaked through the fabric of his shirt.\n\nShe pulled away from him quickly as she felt the muscles in his arms slacken. For the unpredictability of reactions, the predictability of the drug \"NORMAL\" worked to reassure everyone who dealt with Code 21s.\n\nCode 21 is defined by the reactions humans have to significant stress. Almost every person who comes to this floor, becomes a Code 21. We have witnessed people punching the walls, punching us, wailing, pulling out their hair, scratching themselves manically, cleaning and organizing things around the area, vomiting; just when you think, as a nurse, you've seen it all, the reactions humans have to stress manage to surprise you.\n\nThe man, now that his muscles were relaxing, the neurons in his brains were firing him up with a rage and susceptibility - the next few moments would be crucial for his re-training. \n\nI inserted myself in the space Emma had left blank and begun my job as a nurse; the re-training process. \n\n\"You are a working man and you have just been informed that your youngest daughter, Belle, has respiratory issues. You have two options: you can provide for her health care by contracting us her future career, or you can sign over your second or third daughters future careers to provide for Belles' health care. Under the Human Rights Laws, corrected to keep up with the interest of humanity as a whole, you have the right to live only if you can provide it, and to have children only if you can provide for them. As such -\"\n\n\"HUMAN RIGHTS!\" The man yelled \"WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT HUMAN RIGHTS! THIS ISN'T HUMANE!\"\n\nYelling in rage is a good sign, it is simply a stage of the drug working through his body. Soon his muscles will be so relaxed he will be unable to talk. Or Stand. Or run.\n\n\"As such\" I continue \" You will choose one of your daughters future careers to help Belle get better. If you cannot choose, you cannot provide for your children and your son and three daughters will be removed from your care.\"\n\nHe is still trying to express his rage, but he can only manage a few words here and there. \"Not my girls.....I love them...Can't let Belle die...Its...Wrong. Wrong..\"\n\nAs his jaw finally drops and drool falls from his mouth, covering his chin, the other nurses come to take him. They carry him away, to the re-training area, one of them on each side and his knees scraping along the floor.\n\nI turn to Emma, and quiz her on what I have told her about re-training to asses what she understands. I ask her what she remembers about the re-training speech.\n\n\"Well\" She says gulping; she is still new and nervous \"Nurse, you addressed him as a \"working man\" to help him remember his identity and purpose...Which is to work.\"\n\n\"Correct.\"\n\n\"Nurse, you also used his sick daughters name and not the names of his other daughters to humanize the sick one...Oh, and you referred to her as the youngest to remind him of her vulnerability.\"\n\n\"Correct.\"\n\n\"Nurse, you used the term \"career\" so he wouldn't associate the contract with slavery, and so that he could associate it with the pride he takes in his identity and purpose as a worker...And you reminded him of his rights, and that those rights work to serve humanity as a *whole*, shaming him for being selfish.\"\n\n\"Correct\"\n\n\"Um.\"\n\n\"Think about how I used language.\" I tell her.\n\n\"And, uh, you used the term provide to shame him about his inadequacies of not being able to afford health care and equated that with him not being able to look after his kids...So that he would threatened but...He'd, um, blame himself?\"\n\n\"Correct. You are learning quickly, Emma. Do you have any questions?\"\n\nShe tilts her head to the side, frowns and starts twisting her ponytail nervously in her hands. \n\n\"Ask.\" I demand. I have no patience for this silliness, it has been ten minutes and the next Code 21 will occur in eleven minutes; that is how the code was named, we deal with this situation on an average of every 21 minutes.\n\n\"Is that how I got to be here? Because my parents couldn't afford my, or a siblings health care?\"\n\n\"Yes. That's how most people come to work here. The human body has not yet adapted to living underground, but the pollution above makes it necessary. For every four people that live without forming serious health issues, there are two that will for serious health issues. We use those health issues as a leverage for slavery to keep humanity running smoothly.\"\n\n\"Oh.\"\n\n\"Do you have any other questions? If you do, be quick.\"\n\n\"You're a nurse, you would know - If I didn't take the NORMAL drug, and didn't get re-trained, I'd remember my parents, and my family, and, I mean, everything...But I wouldn't be normal would I? I wouldn't be happy..Not knowing all this. Not knowing I'm......A slave. I couldn't be happy, could I?\"\n\n\"No, you would not. You could not be happy.\" \n\n\"One last question: do I call you nurse, to make me think you're like me?\"\n\n\"You *are*a quick learner. Yes, I tell you to call me nurse so that you will think I am the same as you. In time with enough doses of NORMAL drugs and re-training you will forget that you are human and you won't be able to distinguish the differences between you as a human, and I as a robot.\"\n\nThere is silence.\n\nThan a scream.\n\nWe have another Code 21."
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[WP] The single saddest moment your life will ever have was the single happiest moment of someone else's.
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"This was what everyone had been talking about. Since the beginning of the summer. So there I sat, refreshing the news, refreshing Facebook, with my eyes glued to the TV. \n \nI was SURE he'd make the right decision. Why would he not want to come to us. Why would he want to live anywhere else? But there was still that part of me, that part of me that thought he'd make the wrong decision. Go live somewhere else. \n \nAs I went down for my tea, I refreshed Facebook for the final time. \n \nThere I saw it. I knew Oklahoma was bad. But not THAT bad. \n \nI couldn't believe it. \n \nHe'd actually made such a weak decision. \n \nIt was the weakest move I'd ever seen by a superstar! \n \n \n--------------------------------------------\n \n \n \n \nReply if you get the reference xD",
"Andrew was waiting at the arrivals gate when he found out. Leaning on the barrier clutching a bunch of flowers, he fidgeted impatiently as he waited for Jessica to land. It had tough to be without her for two weeks when they’d been together pretty much every day for the last two years, but the cliché was true – absence had made the heart grow fonder. A LOT fonder. Andrew’s stomach was full of butterflies and he couldn’t keep the smile from his face; he was also acutely aware of the small box pressing against his leg in his pocket….\n\n\nLost in a reverie, he was suddenly aware of that a crowd of people in the airport were moving over to the announcement screens. He watched as the flight times and gates suddenly changed to one word – “cancelled”. \n\n“What’s happened?” he asked someone as they passed, as he began to feel cold fingers of dread run through him. “An explosion”, the stranger responded, “something about the engine when coming into land”. They hurried on, and Andrew joined them, walking quickly, then running over to the nearest TV, the flowers forgotten on the floor. \n\n“It can’t be…” she thought, “it can’t be that flight…..I don’t believe it”. But it was.\n*****************************************************************************\nGloria was near the arrivals gate when she found out. Leaning against the corner-most part of the barrier, she kept the left side of her face turned against the wall, hiding the fading mark on her cheek. It had been the most wonderful two weeks, but now he was back. “Don’t forget to pick me up you stupid bitch” he had said a fortnight ago, punctuated the last word with the palm of his hand. Gloria’s stomach was full of butterflies at the thought of his return, and she was acutely aware of the bruises on her back and legs. \n\n\nLost in a reverie, she was suddenly aware of that a crowd of people in the airport were moving over to the announcement screens. She watched as the flight times and gates suddenly changed to one word – “cancelled”. \n\n“What’s happened?” she asked someone as they passed, as she began to feel something akin to hope running through her. “An explosion”, the stranger responded, “something about the engine when coming into land”. They hurried on, and Gloria joined them, walking quickly, then running over to the nearest TV. She noticed a beautiful bunch of flowers on the floor, and picked them up. \n\n“It can’t be…” she thought, “it can’t be that flight…..I don’t believe it”. But it was.\n",
"The man cried, sobs wracking his huge frame, the contradiction of his masculinity and his emotion too much for the nurses, who pretended not to notice. \n\nHe held his daughter to his chest and rocked back and forth.\n\n\"Daddy loves you, Sweet Pea. Daddy loves you. Forever and always.\" He repeated over and over, the words almost indistinguishable, masked by his tears and gasps for breath. \n\nHe saw the group in the hallway turn towards the door, and he knew his time was over.\n\nThey came in, and the doctor pressed a few buttons on the machine beside the bed.\n\nThere were a few seconds where the only sound was the ticking of the man's watch, and then the doctor turned around.\n\n\"She's gone.\" He said simply.\n\nThe man let out an inhuman wail, his chest consumed with the greatest grief he had ever felt.\n\n__________________________________________\n\n\nShe had been in pain for so long that she could scarcely remember a time without pain. The last few days, the pain had been so great that she hadn't been able to comprehend what was going on around her, what was being said, though she knew she didn't have much time left. She had been fighting for so long.\n\nShe heard words and noises as though from the other side of a thick wall- dull thuds and low murmurs that made no sense to her. She'd stopped trying to decipher them, as it was too much effort, and put all her effort into willing away the pain. But it wasn't enough.\n\nShe was faintly aware of a group of people coming into her room, though it felt more like she was remembering a dream while shrouded in a thick fog.\n\nAfter a moment of this, she realized that she felt no pain. She had a moment of complete lucidity, which spread from head to toe in a spasm of ecstasy that she had never experienced. There was light, and music, and a body that wasn't mutinous, and she saw her father's face in a moment of flooding joy.\n\nShe smiled as she slipped off, right before an inhuman wail pierced the air.",
"The walk sign was green, but the car didn’t stop. That was all Melanie could think about. “He didn’t follow the rules. It doesn’t count.” She had argued with the EMTs, with the doctors and with the nurses. Even the grief counsellor had only gotten the repetitive sentences out of her. “It can’t be. It doesn’t count. It’s not fair.” \n\n\nHer sweet, funny little boy. Even when he was nearly running to school, eager to show off his new Star Wars backpack, he followed the rules. He never crossed the road when the light was red. She had taught him that. She had taught him, and he had remembered. He followed the rules. The driver didn’t. “He was a good boy. Such a good boy.” When they told her his heart had stopped beating, she felt like hers did too.\n\n\n She thought perhaps she had died, and this was her hell. But they were talking to her, forcing her to exist and to answer their questions. She wanted them to go away, but they were talking about all the good things that could be done. “He was a good boy” she confirmed again as she signed the papers. \n\n________________________________________________\n\n\nPaul was pushing the sweaty lock of hair away from his daughter’s face. His fingers brushing against the various tubes and sensors that covered her little body. She hadn’t come to in a couple of days, the doctors said she would be gone any day now. They had been through so much pain, so much waiting and hope and disappointment. A few weeks ago they had thought they were saved, but the weather had delayed the helicopter too much. \n\n\nHe leaned over her and put his forehead against hers, breathing in and trying to find her own sweet smell beneath the odor of hospital and illness. He held on tight to the memory of her baby smell, scared that these last few days would be what he would remember best. She had been so much more. She had been dancing, laughing, even fighting. The last year had been a different kind of fight. \n“It’s okay if you’re tired.” He kissed her forehead and sat back up, holding her hand in his. “You’ve been so incredibly strong.” The doctors had told him to prepare, and he had tried and failed. He had decided to be strong for her, choosing to believe she could hear him. “I love you so much.” \n\n\nHe continued saying it, over and over again. He was down to whispering it when the nurse opened the door to his room and said the most amazing words he had ever heard. \n\n\n“We have a heart.” \n"
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[wp]An Intergalactic Hunger Games is ordered by the Higher Beings. Representatives from every species in the galaxy are forced onto a single planet to kill each other until there remains a single survivor. You and your friend have been chosen to represent Earth.
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"Being selected for the Intergalactic Hunger Games was unpleasant enough. I didn't rate my chances too highly. But then I was introduced to my fellow competitor from Earth, whom I would have to kill in order to survive. \n \nIt was a miracle I didn't fly into a rage when I saw her. \n \nJessica Chalmers. Well, not Jessica *Chalmers* anymore. She'd married over a year ago, I knew that much. I hadn't seen her in three years, hadn't met her husband, didn't even remember her new name. I'd been in love with her once, but I still cared for her. The notion of being forced to kill her was bad enough, but that wasn't what made my blood boil. \n \nShe was obviously pregnant. \n \nWhoever the fuck had decided to put a pregnant woman into the games was now on my kill list. \n \n----- \nSurviving the games proved far easier than expected. It turns out that the reason these games were called \"Hunger\" Games was because about 40% of sentient species were carnivores... and there was always a very limited supply of prey. Humans, it seemed, were the sole omnivore species around. \n \nJessica and I teamed up quickly. She was more experienced with firearms than I was, and she was only a few months pregnant, which didn't slow her down. The few times we were attacked, I fought like a berserker to protect her. The audience probably assumed that I was protecting the love of my life. I wasn't. I was protecting a friend of mine, and an unborn child. \n \nThe carnivores hunted down the herbivores quickly. It was how the games normally went. After day 3, the only animals left in the arena were competitors. On day 5, the last herbivore - a furry beast from Spica bigger than an elephant and very good at camouflaging herself - was taken down. \n \nAfter that, my strategy became simple. Whenever we encountered a pack of carnivores, we didn't need to kill them. We just needed to wound one. The others would turn on the wounded one immediately. \n \nBy day 9, the last competitors save us had been driven insane by hunger. We were doing quite well on edible plants, so as a final taunt to the game-masters, we buried our foes with dignity. \n \n----- \n \nOf course, it was now expected that we would turn on each other. But we didn't. Nor was I going to kill myself to save my friend and her child. I had a better plan. \n \nOn day 4, I'd located a volcanic spring with lots of sulfur. I'd remembered how to make saltpeter and charcoal. It took days to build the charcoal pile, and a lot of experimentation before I'd gotten the proportions right. But on day 19, I approached the fence with a basket full of gunpowder. One explosion later, and we were out. \n \nThese aliens had to be taught a lesson. Three lessons, rather. One was to never expect humans to follow the rules. Another was that you never fucked with human children and lived to tell about it. The final lesson was that friendship is something powerful, a force capable of driving people to desperate actions. The mutilated corpses of the game-masters I left, each an example of a historical method of torture, showed that. \n \nNext year, the human representatives were Abdul al-Nisham, fighter for the Islamic State, and Jerry Matheson, proud member of the Knights of the Ku Klux Klan. Abdul hacked Jerry to pieces before getting chomped by some alien. It was hilarious.\n \nOh and Jessica? She gave birth to a healthy daughter. I'm the godfather, of course. Her husband and I get along great."
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[WP] You are caught smuggling what you think is cocaine, but it turns out you were shipping bricks of flour.
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"Jimmy was always the brave one. He wasn’t the least bit shy and was never afraid to talk to anyone.\n\nYou sit in the passenger seat of the rental, a dry desert breeze brushes your face through the rolled down windows. You can’t hear the words, but you know there’s trouble.\n\nDespite the atmosphere, your palms are soaked. You’re still holding the itinerary, its sopping in your shaky hands.\n\nThe plan was simple. Fly to a ‘vacation’ in Juarez. Get a rental, no questions asked. Drive north 120 miles, no one bothers a pair of white boys on vacation. \nPark in the desert, no questions asked. \n\nThen finally, backtrack to Albuquerque and fly home. The pair of you split half a million dollars.\n\nThe three hired goons burst from the black SUV parked about 30 yards away, guns raised. The ugly, squat man across from Jimmy it pointing, flailing, shouting. \n\nYou hear Jimmy’s words echo, “No questions asked.”\n\nThey open fire. Jimmy collapses. You scream.\n\nThey turn and point to you. The squat man, shouting the whole way, drags you out of the car. You can’t understand what he’s saying, despite taking Spanish all 3 years. \n\nYou sputter from broken Spanish off, saying you can’t understand.\n\nHe man is frantic, foaming at the word. His goons are twitchy, agitated. He repeats the words again, quaking.\n\n“*.. izla’rina*” \n\nYou can’t make it out. \n\n“*no comprendo, no comprendo*” you cry. Hot tears cooling your cheeks in the evaporative waning sunlight.\n\nHe drops you on the ground, spits.\n\nThe goons take up aim. \n\nFinally, you hear his words clearly. \n\n“*… es la harina*”\n\nYou choke on your on last sob in disbelief.\n\nYour last thought isn’t the thunder on gunshots or the streaking pain of flesh and bone being torn apart. Its confusion.\n\n**Why did they give us flour?**\n\n\nEDIT: trying to fix formatting, typos",
"The flashing red and blue lights in my rearview mirror made my heart pound in my chest. A million thoughts crossed through my mind - maybe I could toss it out the window! Maybe I could pretend to be dead, or or or... maybe I could pretend to know nothing about it!\n\n*I mean... it's not like me, a perfectly respectable citizen, would EVER be smuggling cocaine in the back of my car in the dead of night while driving 20 miles over the speed limit...*\n\nAs the officer approached my vehicle I could feel the sweat building on my forehead. I gulped, trying to calm my shaking hands as they rested lightly on the steering wheel. Maybe I could just talk my way out of it. I mean, I was just speeding, there was no way he could know that I was carrying three bricks of cocaine in my trunk...\n\nThe officer tapped on the window and I jumped, pressing the button for the window to roll down. The officer looked weary already, his eyes tired and frustrated all at the same time. \"Ma'am, do you know why I pulled you over?\"\n\nMy mouth seemed to go dry at the words. *I was speeding. I was speeding.* The words pounded on and on my head, but when I opened my mouth nothing came out but an exasperated sound. The officer frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, clearly not amused by my lack of response.\n\n\"I'm going to need to see your license and registration, ma'am.\" He said after a moment passed and no further words came out.\n\nI closed my eyes, trying to relax. \"Right... right... uhm... give me a moment... I... my license is in my... my purse and the regis...registration...\"\n\n\"Any day now, ma'am,\" the officer chided, and I could hear the sound of his boots taping on the pavement.\n\nI finally managed to find my license and pulled the registration out of the glove compartment, handing it over to the officer meekly.\n\nIt felt like ages as I waited until the officer finally came back to the car. *Of course my luck, the very first job I have and I get pulled over...* They told me I was a sure-shot for this job since I looked like your average woman, the cops would never be able to guess that I was really smuggling the goods. They told me if I was successful they'd pay me well - well enough to finally put some food on the table.\n\n\"Ma'am, I'm going to need you to step out of the vehicle.\"\n\nI jumped, not realizing that the officer had returned. \"I-Is there a problem, officer?\" My voice stammered.\n\nThe officer scowled, his yellowing teeth haunting my vision. \"I'm going to need to search your vehicle, ma'am.\"\n\nI didn't have a response for this. *Shit! They told me I was a sure-shot, they never told me how to get out of this mess!* I closed my eyes and nodded, opening the door and stepping out. \"Go sit on the curb,\" he growled, and I obeyed quietly, feeling tears form in my eyes as I realized I was about to go to jail and there was nothing I could do to stop it.\n\nThe officer searched through the front seat for about five minutes, then moved onto the back seat and (upon finding nothing there either) finally popped the trunk. I looked away, fighting back the tears. There was no way I was going to be able to talk myself out of this, now.\n\n\"Well, well, well,\" I heard him mutter the moment he opened the trunk. \"Looky what we have here.\"\n\nI didn't need to hear much else. From that moment forward I listened to him call into dispatch on his walky-talky, then he pulled out a pair of handcuffs. I vaguely heard him read out my Miranda rights and before I knew it I was stuffed into the back of the police cruiser.\n\nIt was a twenty minute drive before we made it to the station. It was another hour to get through the initial processing, where they then stuck me in a holding cell. After that, I lost track of time. The hours bled on and on in my mind, and finally when I was just calming down enough to try and get some sleep someone entered the holding room.\n\n\"Ashley Neils?\" an officer called, and I looked up sleepily, wondering if it was time to go to the judge already. \"Ah, there you are. You're wanted in for questioning right now. Get your ass off that floor and come here.\"\n\nI obeyed quietly, and he took me through two other doors until I was left sitting in an interrogation room. I wasn't sure how much time passed until the original officer who arrested me came through the door.\n\n\"Ashley Neils, nice to see *you* again,\" he began, sitting down across from me and placing a folder on the table.\n\n\"I can't really say the same about you,\" I said back, though my voice was dry as I had been refusing any water before that.\n\nHe chuckled, leaning back in his chair. \"You're quite the firecracker now that you've spent a few hours behind bars, huh?\"\n\nI didn't answer, looking down at my hands still in the handcuffs.\n\n\"So I know you weren't transporting all that just on your own. You've got a clean record, never even had a speeding ticket until I pulled you over,\" he began, finally opening up the folder in front of him and glancing at the papers within. \"So I wanna know who your supplier was, and who you were giving it to.\"\n\nI shifted uneasily in my chair. While they had been completely confident in my abilities, I had heard enough bad blood in the drug trade to know that if I told that it may come back to bite me in the ass.\n\n\"Come on now, Ashley,\" he said after a minute passed with no response. \"We can be friends. I really don't think you're a bad kid. You won't have to spend much longer in here if you just tell me the information I'm requesting.\"\n\nTears formed in my eyes again. *Dammit. This is why women were never taken seriously,* I thought savagely, raising my arms (however awkwardly it was) and wiping away the tears. \"I-I'm scared they'll hurt me if I tell you,\" I admitted finally, sniffling as my nose started to run from crying.\n\n\"We can make sure that doesn't happen,\" the officer said softly, his tone much nicer than he had been previously with me. \"We have ways to protect you. 'Protect and serve' and all of that jargon - we don't just make it up. But I can't help you unless you tell me who.\"\n\nI hesitated, but his eyes reminded me in that moment of my father. Gentle, kind. Warm. \"The person who gave it to me is a man named Jacob Guy, and I was supposed to be delivering it to the JB Warehouse on 5th. They didn't give me the name of the contact there.\"\n\nThe officer smiled, nodding as he quickly wrote down the information I provided. \"Thank you, Ashley. We will make sure you're secure. You'll have to spend another hour or two here so that we can clear your charges, and then you'll be free to go.\"\n\nI relaxed in my chair, nodding as I watched him head towards the door. Maybe it wasn't so bad. After all, maybe I could hide out for a while at home. Pretend I had the flu, or something.\n\nAs the officer walked towards the door, he hesitated, before turning around with a small smile on his face. \"Oh, and by the way Ashley?\" I looked at him, wondering what more there could be. \"That cocaine we both thought you were carrying? It was actually flour.\"\n\nAnd as he exited the door my heart sank. They didn't trust me, even though they said they did.\n\n*I'm dead.*",
"Sitting on this stupid sticky seat in the back of the police cruiser, all I can do is think about what a mess I am. This was my big score. My salvation. The haul that was going to get me out of the life. I could jump off this stupid hamster wheel and be a normal person. \n\nInstead, that was over. This was the biggest fuckup I've had. I couldn't stop thinking about my mom. She was never going to look at me the same. She had always been proud of me. Thought I was doing well. I just bought a new house for me and the kids. I have a decent job that she thinks pays a lot more than what it actually does. She knows I have issues. The single mom thing hit her hard. She's traditional. But she had no idea I was truly her biggest nightmare and that I was actually a drug distributor. I'm not dramatic enough to think it would kill her. But she was never going to look at me the same. I wasn't just hurting me. I was hurting her. Her friends would look at her differently. Would she even be able to be supportive? What would it be like for her when she had to take my kids in? How would she explain that to the kids? To her friends and neighbors? Ah man, this was no good. \n\nI can see one of the cops pulling bricks of the white out of the back of the truck. He looks over at me in the back of the car. We both know there's not an explanation I can throw for how I am \"accidentally\" driving a box truck full of white into the state. I haven't said a word. There's nothing to say. \n\nThey already tested my saliva. Of course there was nothing there. I don't do drugs. I'm a mom. Yeah, I supply to plenty of moms. I'm also a hypocritical mom. Now, the guys with the test kits are here and they are going to draw my blood. They told me this is how it's going to go. I could have a lawyer delay this, but I have nothing to worry about from the blood test. It's the sample they are testing from the truck that ends my life as I know it. I'm watching that happen in slow motion. It's like watching a train hit me head on and there is nothing I can do.\n\nI look back at my shoes. I just can't watch. I know what's coming. There's a little tear sliding down my cheek, but my hands are zip tied together. I'm just trying not to think about my kids. I don't know if I'll ever be able to think about them again, but I can't now.\n\nThe testing seems to take forever. The cops and their lab guys are all clustered together. The original cops who pulled me over are having a cop party now. All their pals are here. They're all clumped together, but when I peek over, it doesn't look like a celebration.\n\nEventually, one of the original guys comes over to the car. He looks like he's about my age and would rather be sitting on a couch. He has thin, mousy brown hair and a hang-dog face that's a little too red from the sun. He's got a little belly and skinny arms. He looks sweaty, but it's hot out. They were nice and left the car and A/C on for me, so I feel fresh looking at him sweating. As he opens the door, I feel hot air suck into the car in my face. \n\n\"What the hell are you doing with a truck full of flour in bricks?\"\n\nI keep my mouth shut. We all know there is no way I can explain a box truck full of cocaine. I'll just keep silent and let them arrest me. There's nothing I can do to help myself. \n\n\"Fucking flour. Why would you wrap it up like drugs? What the hell?\"\n\nI stare at my shoes, but this is making me a little uncomfortable. Is this a trick? Um... my brain stalls out. \n\n\"Look lady, what the fuck is going on here? I just want to know what's going on. No, I am not arresting you for a truck full of flour, but what the fuck? First I gotta figure out if you're trying to scam a major dealer or what. You're gonna get yourself killed!\"\n\nHe pauses. He's getting redder. \n\n\"Lady, these are not people to mess with. You don't seem to get it. Look, we ran you. You're squeaky clean. Are you messing with dangerous people here? Are you playing some game?\"\n\nI looked up at him. He looked like my father when I did something stupid as a kid. A little confused and a little mad. Not sure which to go with. \n\n\"I just want to make pies.\" \n\nWhat? Why the hell would I say that? It was a joke at the office we made sometimes. My coworkers found out that I make good pies. I brought a couple in a few months ago and everyone loved them. I can make a key lime pie in my sleep and I really love pie. So I shared with my coworkers. Now, when things get a little crazy and someone asks me how it's going, I say, \"I just want to make pies\". We laugh and move on. \n\nBut why now? This does not seem the time for the in-joke from the office. \n\n\"Pies! Pies. Are you fucking kidding me? Pies. You're going to make pies with a fucking truck full of flour wrapped up like drugs? They sell that shit at the GROCERY STORE.\" A little bit of spittle landed on my cheek. He was getting pretty worked up. I had clearly WAY fucked up. I should have stuck with saying nothing. \n\nHe kept raging, getting angrier and angrier, but I no longer heard what he was saying. My head was spinning. This could work. I had a box truck full of flour. Our new house had this little dumpy mother-in-law apartment with a little kitchen in the basement. It was ugly, but had a fridge, some cabinets, and a little oven. I like pies. The kids like pie. Geez. Everyone likes pie. I could make pies. \n\nThis stupid flour wasn't going to cost me my life. I'd reached a status where I didn't buy my product on credit. I paid in full up front. My offshore account had covered this tidily. No one was going to hunt me down for the cash. But damn. They sold me flour! I should go after them. \n\nNo, no. I'm going to make pies. I'm going to make pies and sell them at the farmer's market. I'm making the best pies and my kids can sell them at a bake sale in our driveway. I'm going to ship pies ordered on the internet. I built this distribution system for the cocaine, I could certainly do it for pies. I smiled a little thinking about my future pie empire. \n\n\"WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SMILING? YOU THINK THIS IS FUNNY?\" Oh boy. This cop is going to explode. There's got to be a limit to how red someone can get before they pop like a too-full balloon. I think he is there. \n\n\"It was cheap.\"\n\n\"What? What? Did you say cheap?\"\n\n\"Yeah, the flour was so cheap that way. You know, I'm trying to start this pie business. But I don't have a ton of money. I have kids. I gotta get my ingredients as cheap as I can.\"\n\n\"Oh my god. Lady........Whatever. Oh my god.\" He slams the door in my face and walks back over to the other cops. They talk for another minute. \n\nA different cop comes over and opens the door. He holds open the door and all he says is \"watch your head.\" I figure out that I should get out of the car. I do. He doesn't say anything else. He cuts the zip tie off my hands. The other cops are getting in their cars and driving away. It's just me and the over-red ballon and this silent guy. I turn around to talk to Silent Bob and he just gets in the front of the cruiser and closes the door. Red Ballon gets in the driver's side and peels out onto the highway. \n\nAt the back of my truck, it's still open. Some grey Toyota drives by and slows down as the driver, an older guy, stares at the bricks in the back and the flour scattered around the remains of a few bricks on the ground. It looks like the cops smashed a couple of them. There are floury footprints all over the place. I just leave it all there and close the back of the truck. \n\nThe keys are just on the ground halfway up the truck. I pick them up and get in the front. I'm already wondering if I can make a good chocolate silk pie with caramel drizzle that would ship well. \n\n"
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[WP] You are a superhero, destroyer of the good.
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"Keit held back a sob as she looked at her bloodied hands, she'd done it again, as usual she just froze in place. She'd hoped that her mind would desensitise itself but it wasn't as if she was in charge, well it wasn't as if, she literally couldn't help herself. She'd black out and show up, body on the floor, not knowing how or when she got there. Only knowing one thing, she'd killed again.\n\nTurning slowly she looked at her latest victim, Oh Christ, she studied their face slowly. It was Frank, the sweet man who lived just down the street, she overheard that he donates most of his pension to charities, and just like that another body lay before her. \n\nThis was her Thirteenth victim, there didn't seem to be a pattern. There was no time that she'd black out especially, it just seemed everytime she went to sleep she'd wake up with blood on her hands and another body before her. However there was one pattern she did notice, if she overheard a good act then chances are they'd end up dead, she couldn't read newspapers, cut off contact from her friends and family, she didn't want this to happen again. Even walking around she had music blaring so that she wouldn't hear anything, so that she couldn't hear of any good. Not to mention she had to fight off sleep, her recent influx towards caffeine pills and coffee could've deregulated the market she joked to herself, before realising where she was.\n\nStill there was a body before her and still she had blood on her hands, she found either by fluke or by destiny she was never caught. Walking towards the door she carelessly left her hand prints everywhere as she tried to wipe he blood off. She even called the Police and reported the murder before heading through the door, dragging her legs one after the other, fuck was she tired. In this slumped state she managed to reach her home in 20 minutes having a police car coming whizzing past without giving her a second glance, despite her murderer-esque appearence.\n\nShe fumbled her keys as she made her way through, it was still dark, probably around 2am. She went through the usual routine; caffeine tablets, shower, coping, caffeine tablets, reading, caffeine tablets, drinks, caffeine tablets, walk with the proper sense damperners, caffeine tablets, another walk? perhaps a book again? Life was dull. So she chose walk, she needed some more books afterall.\n\nEar phones in, Ear defenders over the earphones, sunglasses with tape on the peripherals so that her vision was centred. Halfway down the street however her phone died despite the fact she had made sure it was on full, it just decided to die, reaching through her pockets she pulled it out and tried to get it back on but it refused. Letting out a groan of defeat she shoved it back into her pocket and carried on, this is why she wore the ear defenders. Her phone died twice before while she was out, it was the only way to solve it.\n\nShe was left with her thoughts, there was no way she knew how to stop it from happening, she tried a few times to end it herself but unfortunately, killing only the good means that murdering the bad is impossible, and since she'd only been killing good people. There was no clause that would mean she is good. She wrestled with her thoughts further wondering how she got into this mess, was she a sleeper agent? It seemed a bit too tin foil hat but it wasn't impossible, scummy shadow organisations have been know to pull shit like this, she thought, maybe it'd explain why she was never caught st the cri- A harsh sneeze came over her, knocking off her bespoke sunglasses, right as she saw a man giving some money to a homeless woman.\n\n\"Not again.\" She whimpered outloud."
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[WP] During the great depression, the Midwest was called the Dust Bowl. Massive dust storms blew across the countryside. Describe the experiences of a child during one of these storms.
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"*Note: I took this story in a slightly different direction*\n\n***\n\n**August 4, 2120; Hammaguir Crater, Mars**\n\n*“Round and round the colony ship, the robot chased the bilge rat. The bilge rat thought ‘twas all in good fun. Zap, goes the bilge rat!”*\n\nHer children’s voices crackled over the comm. From her chair on the porch, Alice watched the three bound around the long-decrepit rover, kicking up clouds of red dust as they romped through the Martian morning. Their laughter sounded off, distorted through the comm.\n\nShe felt a hand on her shoulder. Her husband stood behind her, watching the little yellow space suits cavort in the low gravity. Alice grasped his hand, squeezed. “They grow up so fast,” she said through her respirator. Her husband sat beside her on the porch. “That they do, Ally, that they do.”\n\nThey sat in silence, taking in the panoramic view of the valley far below. What was left of New Seattle lay in the early-morning sun, far below, pillars of pink concrete soaring into the eternally-overcast sky. The terraforming generator still puffed away, spouting its eternal cloud of atmosphere, but around it the city had died. \n\nLike everything else.\n\n“Well, I better go check the crops,” her husband said. He stood, straightened his helmet, and gave his wife a disarming smile. “Be back in a few, hun.”\n\nShe watched him stroll across the yard in the signature half-glide of the established settlers, in turns leaping and strutting through the low gravity. He passed by the children, and their youngest son bounded over and leapt, crashing into his waiting arms. The pair went down in a pile, and were soon joined by the other two. Alice watched her family roll around in the dust, and tried to smile.\n\nAfter a few minutes, her husband rose, brushed a fine layer of red sand from his suit, and said something to the kids before continuing his skipping stride towards the greenhouse. A chime sounded in Alice’s earpiece, signaling noon. She better get lunch started.\n\n***\n\nAlice stepped over three tiny, crumpled space suits cast haphazardly inside the airlock. The children were already seated around the kitchen table, bounding and giggling. She heard the airlock hiss, and her husband stepped into the pre-fab colony block they called home. \n\nShe greeted him at the kitchen door, ready to help him remove his suit, but when he removed his helmet she paused. \n\nHis eyes. She had seen that look before. Without a word, he nodded to her, grim determination creasing his rough features. He motioned her over to the corner.\n\n“What’s the news, honey?” she asked, trying to peer through his stoic façade. He took a deep breath, ran a gloved hand through his hair. “It’s the crops, Alice. They’re not taking.” \n\nAlice ran a hand down his dusty cheek. “What do you mean? Weren’t they flowering last week?” Her husband nodded, but did not meet her gaze. “I think something’s in the water… they’re dead. All of em’, dead.”\n\nSilence filled the hallway, interrupted only by the tittering laughter coming from the kitchen. After a while, Alice took a deep breath. “That’s ok, we’ll start again, head down to Terminus Station tomorrow and get what supplies we need. More seeds. Plus, we might be able to find a new razor for you. What do you say?”\n\nHer husband, the man she had come to know and love so well, the seemingly indomitable settler, looked far older than his years. She was suddenly aware of an overbearing tiredness, a hopelessness she had never seen in him. \n\n“Station’s closed down, three weeks ago. Catastrophic decompression.”\n\nAlice pulled her husband into a deep hug. “Don’t worry, Steven, we’ll find a way. We always do.”\n\n***\n\nDinner was a slim helping of reconstituted mac and cheese with a side of water. \n\nAfter they had cleaned up and put the children to bed, Alice and Steven sat at the table, a bottle of local moonshine between them. “Maybe we should leave,” said Steven, between sips of the red lightning, “pick it all up and head off-planet. Maybe sign on to one of the colony ships.” Alice poured herself a slim line of liquor. She said nothing. They both knew that they could never afford the ticket up the last remaining orbital elevator, let alone lodging aboard one of the massive colony ships. She took a sip.\n\nTheir silent vigil was interrupted by a faint wail, echoing through the hallways. “Aw, hell,” Steven grumbled. He put down his cup, shook his head to clear the potent haze, and hurried out of the kitchen. “Alice,” he called back, now running, “get the kids up and into the shelter, I’ll be with you soon.”\n\nThe siren was a part of life on Mars, and it always sent a shiver down Alice’s spine.\n\nDust storm.\n\n***\n\nWind ripped at the walls of their home, wailing through the support struts and pounding the windows with a fine red mist. Together, Alice and her children sat huddled in the emergency shelter, sunk deep into the sand beneath the house’s foundation.\n\nSteven was out there, likely securing the greenhouse and tying down the rover. Alice pulled her children closer, trying to blot out the dark thoughts that crept into her mind. Steven would join them, he always did.\n\nThe storms always cut into their comms, the blowing metallic sand playing foul with the signals. She wished she could talk to Steven, make sure he was doing alright out there. But she would just have to trust him. \n\nA vicious burst of wind rocked the home above, and Alice could hear the struts groaning. The storms had been getting worse, and this one was bad.\n\n“Mommy, where’s daddy?”\n\nAlice ruffled her youngest son’s hair. “Don’t worry, Jamie, he’ll be back soon. He’s just making sure everything stays put until the wind stops.” Alice had to force the trepidation from her voice. \n\nAnd then the world exploded.\n\nWind tore into the shelter, vile red dust scouring every exposed surface. Alice pulled her children closer, covering their eyes from what she could only imagine was impending doom.\n\nAnd then it stopped, and there in the shelter’s doorway stood Steven, covered head to toe in red dust. He took a single step into the shelter, undid the clasps of his helmet, tossed it aside, and collapsed to the floor beside Alice. \n\nHe touched a gloved hand to her cheek. “We’re good, all secure, and the storm should pass in a few hours. Looks like we’ll live to face another day.\"\n\n*** \n\n"
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[WP]A nurse in a remote mountain village does her best to help the wounded guerrilla soldiers that arrive from the front. As she tends the wounds, she sings, and discovers that her voice has a strange effect on the soldiers’ bodies…
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"\"They say her voice can heal the wounded.\"\n\n\"How do you know? Have you seen it happen?\"\n\n\"That's just what they say.\"\n\nFerdinand and Michelangelo kept a steady pace up the mountain trail. Fall was just setting in and the crisp mountain air smelled pure and clean. They were carrying a man who was deathly ill from an unknown illness.\n\n\"What if we get there and it turns out to be a hoax? What if there is no help to be found?\" Michelangelo was skeptical. He only believed in what he could see with his own eyes.\n\n\"It is still the best chance this man has. If we do not even try, he will die for sure. And I refuse to live the rest of my life wondering if there was something that I could have done to help this man. At least this way I will know that I did my best.\" Ferdinand was a firm believer. He, like Michelangelo, had never personally met anyone who had seen the nurse, or even gone to the mountain infirmary. But faith kept him going. Faith was all he had anymore.\n\nThe war, which had reached its seventh year in the spring, had taken a turn for the worst on both sides. An unknown plague had afflicted both sides of the conflict and soldiers who were standing on Death's threshold were often sent on suicide missions.\n\nFor the past seven years all the two friends had known was bloodshed and suffering. Neither one wished to return to the conflict after they had dropped their friend off at the infirmary. But Ferdinand had a duty to his country to either win, lose, or die trying. Michelangelo however, did not plan on coming back down the mountain at all. A fact that he had refused to tell his friend until he absolutely had to.\n\nAs the afternoon sun began to fade into evening, a line of smoke could be seen in the sky.\n\n\"Yes! We are nearly there.\" Ferdinand felt energized at the sight at picked up his pace. Without turning around he gave assurances, \"Hang on my sickly comrade in arms, you will not die this day.\"\n\nMichelangelo matched his pace as best he could, until they were both practically running up the stairs to the infirmary. Outside several nurses were hanging out bed sheets to dry and upon seeing the two soldiers carrying a man on a stretcher approaching them, they stopped what they were doing and helped them inside. \n\nA beautiful melody kissed their ears as they walked in and laid the sick soldier on an empty bed. \n\n\"Will he live?\" Ferdinand asked one of the nurses rather bluntly.\n\nShe smiled with assurance, \"He has made it here. He will live.\" She felt his head, \"I can feel his fever already leaving.\" \n\n\"Is it true what they say? That St. Adelina's song can heal the wounded and the sick?\" Ferdinand nervously played with his hat as he asked.\n\n\"Yes. It is true. But the singing itself is not enough to complete the task. We must still treat the soldiers here as we would at any infirmary.\" She helped the soldier to drink some water, \"But in time, he will recover completely. You have my word as a nurse and as a follower of St. Adelina.\n\n\"Hmph!\" Michelangelo did not believe. \"I have heard stories that St. Adelina's song will heal wounds and cuts before a man's very eyes. How do I know that this not make-believe? Just a story of self-assurance?\"\n\nThe nurse glared at Michelangelo before returning her gaze to Ferdinand. \"Sir, what is your name?\"\n\n\"Ferdinand. I apologize for my friend Michelangelo. He only believes in what he can see.\"\n\n\"Ferdinand, you may stay here if you wish, but your friend must make camp outside until this soldier is healed. His lack of faith is like a poison. And one bad apple may very well undo all the work that we have done so far. Please, tell your friend that he is not welcome here. He must leave immediately.\"\n\nMichelangelo laughed loudly and unpleasantly upon hearing this, \"I will not be going anywhere. I refuse to go back that war. I have lost too many people as it is. I have killed too many people to count. And for what!? Because one man on his throne disagrees with another man on his throne? I will not be a part of this unnecessary bloodshed any longer! I refuse to leave this place!\" \n\nMichelangelo's shouting echoed throughout the entire building. \"Sir. I will not have a faithless man such as you in this infirmary. God has sent the plague so that evil and faithless men will die and this war will end. He has blessed this place and St. Adelina with the power of healing, but it will not work if a man with such a tainted soul as yours occupying it. The blood on your hands may not be yours but the blood on your soul is. Turn back. Turn back towards the light and repent your sins. Forgive yourself and what you have done in the name of your country and crown. A soldier does a soldier's duty, that is his place in life. But a man who refuses his duty is no man at all. Even if his duty is done with bloodshed and killing, a man can be forgiven of his actions. But everyone has a duty. Ours is healing the poor souls affected by this war and yours is following the orders of your king. Now begone before I must force you from this building.\" The nurse spoke as if guided by an unseen force.\n\nMichelangelo laughed again, \"And who is going to force me from this building?\"\n\nAs if on cue, St. Adelina herself emerged from the back room. \"Who is this that dares to shout such unrighteous words in my infirmary?\" \n\nSt. Adelina was dressed all in white and gave off a holy glow. She walked right up to Michelangelo and looked him right in the eyes. \"Sir, I believe we have told you to leave this place. Your soul is filthy and it will tarnish the healing properties of this blessed land and my blessed song. You ask who is going to force you from this place? I will, if I have to. Do not make me.\" She stared him down with ice in her veins and rocks in her shoes.\n\nFerdinand spoke up, \"St. Adelina, I am sorry that my friend has caused you trouble. We will leave and we will bother you no more. Come now Michelangelo, we must return to our duty. God will forgive us our actions.\"\n\n\"NO! Neither you, nor these weak women will move me from this place. In fact I think I will find a nice hot meal to eat.\"\n\nSt. Adelina's words were harsh and cold, \"I warned you sir. Now you will feel God's wrath. Nurses cover the patient's ears and then do the same for yourself.\"\n\n She proceeded to sing a horrifying song as Michelangelo laughed in her face. The nurses went about their work quickly and Ferdinand covered his ears in pain. A blinding light began to fill the room and Michelangelo's laughter was soon replaced with screams of agony. And then it was over.\n\nA small pile of dust sat where Michelangelo stood. Ferdinand praised God's glory and stood up. \"St. Adelina, I am truly sorry for what has happened here today. May God bless you and the work you have done. Please forgive me of my sins.\"\n\n\"You are forgiven. Now go. You have a war to fight.\"\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\n*I feel like it had a lot of potential and then I just sort of lost my way.*",
"A one-eyed man in patched leathers led her up the ladder. At the top was a circular platform. At the center of the platform was a single room made of thick branches and woven reeds. The roof, at least, was made of thick, warped tile.\n\nAzra looked over the side of the platform and felt a wave of dizziness. There was no rail.\n\n\"There is a river,\" said the one-eyed man. \"Just north. In the fall it floods. In the spring it floods. When it floods...\" He pointed towards the ground. \"We have learned to live with the water.\"\n\nAzra stepped back from the edge. \"But how do you expect injured men to get all the way up here for treatment? To say nothing of them getting back down.\"\n\nThe man, who had declined to give a name at their first meeting, led Azra around the platform. On the far side, past the covered room, there was a crude pulley connected to a thick net. \"We haul them up, if needed.\"\n\nAzra nodded. It had been this way with the guerillas. A series of problems and creative solutions. So it was to fight from beneath.\n\n\"There is a cot,\" said the man. \"The rest of your things will be brought up soon. The instruments are what they are. The medicine is even less. We expect only that you make do as best you can.\"\n\nThe one-eyed man took his leave, climbing back down the ladder.\n\n\"How soon until the fall?\" wondered Azra. The sun still blazed, but it was surely waning. And what then? Perhaps the platforms were connected. Perhaps there were boats. In any event, the guerillas surely had a solution.\n\nAzra hummed as she set about taking an inventory. The man had not been modest. There was not much to work with. That was fine, though. Azra had not gone to an inland school. She knew little, if any, of the latest medical science. Instead she had apprenticed with her grandmother, the old Gray Healer herself. She had learned to do much with little. She had learned to give comfort. She had learned to accept her limitations.\n\nHer mother had not wanted her to go off into service, but Azra would not hear a word against her plans. Her mother had not even wanted her to learn the healing arts, which was a thing Azra could not understand. She saw her grandmother as greater than all the rest. A giver of life. \n\n\"You do not know all of what your grandmother is,\" said her mother. \"There is more to her than you see.\"\n\nBut Azra was not dissuaded. She had been set on going to the front as soon as the war had begun. When her grandmother finally, reluctantly accepted her as an apprentice, the next step was all but assured.\n\nAzra would go to the war. It was the least she could do.\n\nShe heard the pulley creak and whine and stepped out of the little reed room just as two men were scaling over the edge of the platform.\n\n\"The healer, right?\" said one of the men. Azra nodded. \"One's comin'. Stepped on a trap. Foot's...well, you'll see.\"\n\nThe man in the net was muttering and sweating, but he wasn't screaming. Azra wasn't sure if that was good or bad. \n\n\"Lay him flat please.\" Azra gathered up a spool of plain cloth, her tweezers, a small scalpel, and a bottle of especially unpleasant-smelling alcohol. \n\nThe men had already pulled off the trap. Azra peeled back the cuff of the man's left pant leg and then turned to the man's boot. \n\n\"Might be something's broken,\" she said. \"It's likely this will hurt even worse. Please hold him a moment.\" Then she grabbed the boot, using the scalpel to sever the laces, pulling the tongue wide and slipping it off the man's gory foot. Now he did scream.\n\nQuickly, she rinsed the red, pulpy mass with alcohol. The man screamed again as the gouges revealed themselves.\n\n\"Fixable, fixable,\" she mumbled to herself, tearing off a strip of cloth and wrapping it around the foot. She instructed a man to hold the cloth while she went back for her needle and thread.\n\nWhen she returned the wounded man was half-asleep, exhausted, but lying at ease. \n\nOne of the soldiers held up a flask. \"I gave him a taste. To calm him.\"\n\n\"That's fine,\" said Azra, taking a position at the man's foot and removing the bloody cloth.\n\n\"We need to get back,\" said the soldier. \"Is that alright?\"\n\n\"Fine,\" said Azra and in no time at all the soldiers had disappeared. \"No one likes the sight of blood,\" sighed Azra. \"Not even the ones who bleed the most.\"\n\nShe set about stitching the man's gashes, moving at a steady rhythm, humming as she went. The humming turned louder, then turned to quiet singing. She never sang around the Gray Healer, even though she'd always had a song in her heart. Every time she'd started, the old woman had snarled at her to knock it off. Azra just assumed that her voice wasn't suited for singing.\n\nBut this patient didn't seem to mind, barely conscious as he was. So Azra sang, her voice growing in confidence, echoing the way her mother used to sing as she worked about the house. A silly song, made-up and meaningless. Tuneful babbling.\n\nAzra was so wrapped up in her sewing and singing that she didn't notice as the man began to stir. He moaned softly, then slightly louder. Azra supposed that the contents of the soldier's flask had begun to lose their effectiveness. The moaning increased, but Azra remained focused, now singing to blot out the sound.\n\n*Nearly there, nearly there* she thought to herself. The gouges were sewn tight and clean. It was good work. Something to make the Gray Healer proud. \n\nThe man had gone quiet. Azra turned towards his face. The eyes were dull. His mouth hung open. His skin seemed powdery white. \n\n\"Oh god,\" gasped Azra, reaching out for the man's chest. Had he died? Was it poison? A heart attack? How?\n\nThe chest was still. And cold. And...hollow feeling. She put her hands on his cheek and pulled them away in shock. His skin...felt like wax. It was hard. Unmovable. As if there had never been life there at all.\n\nShe put a hand below his neck to pull him to a sitting position. He slid forward like a man-sized doll - weighing hardly anything, stiffly articulated at the hips and shoulders. \n\nAzra screamed and pushed away from the incomprehensible horror of what the man had become. But she pushed too hard, and the man slipped over the side of the platform, plummeting to the earth below. \n\nShe heard the thump of his body as it landed. \n\nShe was not brave enough to look over the side and see what gravity had made of him. "
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[WP] Magic emerges, and soon, the idea of monetary currency becomes obsolete. The world now has mana running as the universal lifeblood, both for transactions, spellcasting, and a majority of life's basic utilities.
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"Twenty-three years. That is how long ago mana awoke within the human body, in the air and granted us power. The year is now twenty-forty-nine. Getting dressed Lexi grabbed the bundle of clothes covering the floor, moving them to the bathroom. The automated washing machine would take care of them while she shopped.\n\n\nMumbling she said, “Time to go get food.”\n\n\nOpening the front door, Lexi stared down at the street. With magic now present in life architecture had changed. No longer was a walkway with a staircase necessary to get to the street level. Now the door could just open to the air, the doorframe casting a levitation spell so you would float down to the street.\n\n\nFeeling it had activated Lexi stepped out, pulling the door closed behind her. Floating down to the street she enjoyed copying one of her old, favorite movies. Making a running motion like the people in the Harry Potter movie she landed, walking forward.\n\n\nIt took her only three minutes to reach the grocery stores with the paths moving her forward as she walked. Entering she walked over to the aisle in the back, again mumbling. “Which flavour to get,” she wondered, “Maybe some shrimp or duck.”\n\n\nConsidering for ten seconds Lexi decided she would be unable to decide, instead grabbing both packets and went by the vegetable aisle. Grabbing some onion, leek, she moved over to the dairy aisle and grabbed a pack of six eggs.\n\n\nWith all the items she needed in her hands Lexi strolled across the stores, standing in line to check out. Moving forward as the man took his arm out of the extractor Lexi noticed her friend was the cashier today. “Hey Katie. How are you doing today?”\n\n\n“Hey Lexi! I am doing pretty good. Getting a special mana bonus for this month's work,” she replied happily, scanning Lexi her items.\n\n\n“Ow, what for are you getting extra,” Lexi asked, surprised the store would give out more mana than had too.\n\n\n“I made employee of the month and this is my reward,” Katie replied smiling.\n\n\nFinished scanning Lexi her items Katie looked at her screen, reading out the price. “That will be two-hundred and thirty-two mana Lexi. Please place your arm in the extractor.”\n\n\nPutting her arm in the extraction machine Lexi felt the pressure points activate, pushing into her skin. Each point turning hot as the mana was extracted from her body. She wondered what it would be used for. Would they use it in a hospital as a transfer. Or maybe to power the floating trucks.\n\n\nWhatever it was to be used for, the machine recycled a bit of the extracted mana to cool my arm. Announcing it finished with a loud ping Lexi slowly removed her arm. Telling Katie goodbye she bagged her groceries, leaving the store. Back to home, to enjoy some ten second ramen while planning on how to take control of the mana in the air.\n\n\n----------------\n\nThanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, then please check out /r/MaisieKlaassen"
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[WP] The offspring of two mad scientists, you are tryingr to pursue a career as a civil engineer. Still, because of your genes, you can't help but terorize the townfolks at least a little bit
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"\"I'm real proud of you kid,\" Ethan's father says to him, strolling into the living room and taking the seat on the couch next to his son. \"This project is the most maniacal I've ever seen from you.\"\n\n\"It's not evil Dad, this is going to help people.\" Ethan set his mug on the coffee table before returning his gaze to the traffic reports spread before him. He'd been working for weeks on this project, and after his boss gave it the greenlight earlier in the morning, he decided to stop by his parents' house to share the good news.\n\nBarbara, Ethan's mother, called in from the next room \"Leave him be Jerry, the mirth will show through in his work whether he wants it to or not, no need to badger him about it.\"\n\n\"Your mother's right, I'm sorry son. Let's all go out to celebrate your success.\"\n\n\"Thanks Dad, that sounds great.\"\n\nAs they all make their way through the back door, Ethan realizes he left his folders on the coffee table. He returns to get them, taking extra care with the folder boasting the large APPROVED stamp on the cover. Before turning and rejoining with his parents, he takes a moment to thumb through the folders contents, smiling as he gazes at his carefully rendered drawing of the towns soon-to-be traffic circle."
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What misconceptions would they draw about our civilization if they only had satirical articles, but knew that it was satire?
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[WP] In the far future, historians come across a large archive of articles from The Onion. They're smart enough to figure out it's satirical, but they don't have any other records they can use. What conclusions do they draw about the early 21st century?
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"The advent of the Internet had started the Age of Information. There existed numerous texts, videos and audio recordings from millions of contributors. If you could think you could contribute. This was until the beginning of the era known as the Bêtisme. \n\nUnder the guise of freedom and concern of individual's mental health censorship began to slowly began to creep into the Internet. The initial changes were thought to have been voluntary until it began to be codified into law. The concept of \"safe spaces\" began to be perverted. (See Thomas-Escobar-Hen et al.'s *The Usurpation of Language: A Farcical Progressive Movement).\n\nThe free exchange of idea's and information became forbidden. Anything that caused disagreement or offense, whether it simply range from a choice of hairstyle or culinary preferences to political viewpoints, became banned and censored. The Ministry of Truth became an established institution under the Trump Jr. presidency under the rebranded NSA in the United States.\n\nWhile physical print media was to take exception to these forms of censorship few physical archives of survive, demonstrating the sheer power of fringe groups. A few surviving Tweets discuss the mass bonfires held by Socproates (social progressive activists) whenever an archive was discovered in Kindlings (a mass burning off the documents). \n\nAt it's peak t he Socproates composed the highest levels of government. Alarmed by the weakening economy and military power of the United States, President Trump Jr ordered his chief advisors to resolve this issue. The proposed solution launched the greatest informational attack in known history. \n\nThe Library of Alexandria would have looked like a childish prank with the offensive taken the by Trump Jr Initiative. Project Purity ran and deleted information from private and public domains with such ferocity and speed that it could not be counteracted. This act was finalized by the deliberate usage of EMPs and magnetic pulses being cast over population centers.\n\nThe Age of Information ended with the Cleansing. Data was lost beyond recovery. From what was remains items were salvaged and rebuilt. The Smithsonian hosts the largest repository of Tweets and gives insight to everyday concerns but little historical or factual information not already codified in law and oral tradition. \n\nThe main holdover from the AoI is a website called \"The Onion\", a satirical site, which upon the resolution from the Cleansing appears almost prophetic. \"The Onion\" can be accessed online as easily as in the AoI. \n\nFrom the records we can see that the minutia of life was being declared nonsensical, the Tweets, now as precious as the Gutenberg Bibles, were valued at nothing. There is concerns about political debate but what the true extremism or event that it parodies is difficult to define.\n\nPopular tradition holds that humanity suffered, victims of a minor power, in the the Bêtisme but remaining sources imply a greater difficulty to handle. The Bêtisme did not mark a great assault on humanity's knowledge, it permitted it's successors to reap the fruit of their labor. Humans found it difficult to admit that they could not have their cake and lie about it too.\n"
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[WP] During an interstellar voyage to a distant star system, your ship's cryosleep systems fail, and the crew is awakened with 60 years left in the journey.
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"We stare each other simultaneously, our bodies frozen still in the cyrosleep chambers we had latched ourselves in nearly 120 years ago. My heartbeat starts racing, nearly exploding in my chest as my eyes open. I can feel the tension through the thick palladium glass that encloses each of us. We were not suppose to wake up for another 60 years. \n\nThere was no planning for this, no emergency back up and not a single ounce of care was given to the idea that we may wake up early. The last premature awaking on a interstellar voyage took place nearly 3000 years go. That is ancient history and who accounts for ancient history? Obviously not the Council because here are we, stranded with no food and no resources, gently sailing through the landscape of black nothingness. Welcome to space survival.\n\nI reach my hand over to the command system and mic in to the separate chambers.\n\n\"I don't need to enlighten you on our current situation because I think it is glaring. Obviously, we have awaken nearly 60 years early.\", I speak in a boisterous tone to remove the tension. \"But now, we have work to do. Not a single person is dying on this voyage. I put it on all the stars in the universe\"\n\nThey exchange looks, a slight glimmer of hope radiates in their eye. Relief comes over me, realizing we at least have a shot at some subordination and tranquility in the cabin. I punch the vacuum button to dissipate my cryogel suit, the translucent goo funnels out of the chamber like water circling down a waste disposal unit. I stand, body feeling incredibly strong and well rested from the nutrient overload. I stretch my legs out of the chamber to face my crew, instructions spew out of my mouth.\n\n\"First thing is first, Officer Adonis, link to me to the Armada in light-speed fashion.\", I shout over to the chunky officer.\n\n\"Yes sir!\", he screams back, already in motion as his stumpy legs scurry along the three inch sheet of iridium beneath the soles of our boots.\n\nI glance over to my second command, Officer Eladio and set him in motion.\n\n\"Eladio, I need you to seek out the nearest inhabitable planet you can. Don't be picky on it either. Even if it is a Atmosphere1, I want to know about it.\", I say to him, my stomach roils at the thought of actually descending down into that.\n\nHe gives me a petrified look, his hands fidgeting as I speak. \n\nI jerk my head to the row behind me, my voice aimed at Dr. Hestia. She may be the one person on this ship that can make these last 60 years comfortable or for that matter, even doable. She is a System renown botanist and has an incredible knack for growing produce in less than optimal conditions. But her reputation does not exceed her vanity.\n\n\"Doctor, please do not bull shit me and do not overstate your abilities. This is not an experiment and it is not a test. I need to know, with the utmost confidence, what you can grow on this ship. We need to start setting up projections and decide the most efficient growth pattern to maintain life moving forward\"\n\nHer look is stoic and reassuring, her shoulders pinned back proudly as she addresses me.\n\n\"Captain, given the inventory and the time allotted for growth, I believe I can have this ship eating like gods in less than a few weeks\", her voice soft and smooth, her tone dripping with arrogance.\n\nFor all her flaws, I do believe she is telling the truth. Pity it will not really matter.\n\n\"Perfect. Now, get going and make it happen fast\"\n\nShe gives me a playful grin accompanied with a gentle nod of the head. She exits to the back compartment where the lab is.\n\nNot a single soul left as I stand alone in the the chamber room, my fist shaking from the burning rage that runs through my veins. I have been waiting for this moment for far too long and I can taste the blood vengeance will bring. \n\nCountless years, I have spent fighting for the Council, abandoning my family for years at a time, and this is how they repay me? Sticking me on a meaningless mission that will most likely make me an old man when I return? Put me in command of bunch of lowly citizens to the farthest squadron known to our navigated Universe, so I can test some god damn plants and take samples from new species? Is this not mockery at it's finest?\n\nIt is mockery and for that, they will die. All of them.\n\nBut first, this lousy crew has to go.\n\nThey will be nothing but a burden on my way to meet the God's of Mitos.\n\nWhen I get there, I have a feeling the conquering race of monsters will love to hear what I have to say.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n\n\n"
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after your father dies you have to go through his things and start cleaning out his house. You find boxes filled thousands of pages of his writing. 30 years worth of projects of varying length and genre. curious you decide to start reading your late father's work.
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[WP] While cleaning out you father's house after his death you discover he has spent the last 30 years writing thousands of pages of books and short stories. You pick up a random page and start reading.
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"I look around at the plethora of dusty moleskines, binders, diaries and assorted letters. I haven't ever thought of my old man as an artist, but pops was always a surprise. He was the kind of the guy who would plan an entire party, manage to gather attendees all the way from hither to yon without a single one of his hairs seeming to fall out of place, and somehow preserve the surprise for the very moment you walk through the door. I haven't discovered how he could do that kind of magic; I, myself, am terrible at planning surprises. The secret party details would fly out of my mouth before I even realize that they're gone...\n\nMy father's writings seem to span the generations. The first one I pick up is an old, cracked book with a blue cover. There used to be some sort of image on the cover, but the weather-worn, attic stored book would not give up that secret. I open the book to read the first passage:\n\n\"Rudy. Age 13. October 4th. \n\nI talked to Judy today. I didn't really feel like it since she was with her friends. (Why do girls always stick with their friends anyway?) I didn't really say anything. I wanted to ask her to the dance since she's so pretty (her eyes are so green!), but it's a Sadie Hawkins, which means girls ask the boys. I heard that Jack wants to go with her. I hope she asks me...\"\n\nI feel a little weird reading what seems to be my pop's diary, but he left me these writings. In fact, he left me this whole house. All of these writings, all of these memories, belong to me now. Since they are mine, I don't think there's harm in reading more. Pop would probably want me to read these, to remember him.\n\n\"Rudy. Age 13. October 6th\n\nJudy asked me to the dance tonight! I can't wait! I'm so excited, but I can't mess this up! I need to learn how to dance, and not that squaredancing we learned in phys ed. I need to learn something cool, and fast! The dance is tonight. I wish she didn't take so long to ask me. I hope she wasn't thinking about taking Jack. He's such a dick. I can't believe I'm even related to that guy! This morning, he took up all the hot water and I didn't get any at all, even though I could have really used it. Not like I can get anything done in a house as creaky and old as this one. I need the water to disguise the sound otherwise Mom'll walk in on me again...\"\n\nI decide to quickly skip the rest of the passage. The last thing I want to read about is my father beating it. Still, it's funny how he didn't get along with Uncle Jack. They became very close later in life. I thumb through my pop's journal and land on a page bedecked with smiley faces and hearts. Dad was never a good artist, but I'll admit that he had a way with words.\n\n\"Rudy. Age 16. May 09\n\nToday, I asked Judy to go steady me. She said yes. This is the happiest day of my life. I can't tell my friends that, but Judy knows. I gave her my class ring today, and it was too big. She wears it on a necklace, so everyone will know that we belong to each other. She gave me some sort of pin. It's kind of..well..stupid, but I'll wear it, at least around her. I also got a job today. I get to start working on cars with my old man and actually make some coin off of it. I like working with him...Mom's calling me. Better go see what she wants.\"\n\nIt seems like most of these books are pop's diaries. They aren't labeled, but what else would they be? Out of curiosity, I decide to pick up another book. This book is much newer than the previous one, but is still old. Moleskines hold up better than whatever that other book was made from though. \n\n\"Rudolph. Age 30. May 09\n\nJudy and I got married today. Today, we became Dr. and Mrs. Rudolph Washington. This is, truly, the most splendid day of my life. She was a radiant beauty walking down the aisle. Her reddish hair shining like a fox's fur glinting in the sunlight was a sharp contrast to the baby's breath adorning her head like a crown. Fitting, for my queen. She decided to wear a beige gown, not a white one, which complemented her golden skin. I am so happy to dedicate my life to this woman and to our children (both of whom are on the way, which is why she decided to wear beige). Nothing can spoil this day. I look to my best man, Jack, and see that he, too, is smiling. We are all smiling today, as if hatred exists nowhere in the world because it does not exist here, in this church...\"\n\nI almost cry when I get to the wedding. Pops and mom were always very affectionate, but it's different reading it here, on a page. Mom died before my old man, but I bet she would love to read this if she was alive. I want to keep reading, but I think, for now, I ought to take a break. It will take a long time to sift through my father's memories."
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[WP] After a failed missionary program 1,980 years ago, scientists shrouded your planet with thick clouds to avoid detection from the barbaric rocky planet. Now, the people look to you, the Head of State, as the probe 'Juno' orbits the planet and plans to crash land in less than 2 years’ time.
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"\"The plan is to blast their device once it enters atmos 4\"\n\n\"But they won't get suspicious?\"\n\n\"They'll think it's an electrical storm. We've been simulating them for years for this exact moment. They'll curse their luck and hopefully it'll deter them from trying something so stupid in the future\".\n\n\"And it'll fry their devices?\"\n\n\"Almost definitely\"\n\n\"Almost?\"\n\nBerzac paused. I could feel the nervousness radiating off him. It was more than the fate of the Jupiteers on his back. It was his career too.\n\n\"Obviously, ma'am, I can't guarantee it. We haven't had a good look at their tech. But based on analysis we think we've got the right thing to blast them\".\n\n\"I hope you're right\" I replied.\n\nAt that point Brinto signalled me. We had to be at the concert. Berzac understood my thought change and went straight back to work. His mind whistled over the matter he was manipulating.\n\nBrinto and I floated forward sending versions of my speech between each other. I wasn't in a great position. There was a populist movement rising through the Jupiteers that wanted to embrace the iron men. Fools. They didn't know what we were up against.\n\nHow could they? The iron men's entire way of life is alien to us. Their machines are a marvel. Somehow they could force matter together to create elemental rock like the moons of Jupiter, but shaped in a way they like. It defied all the laws of nature. The first one we'd seen was taken as a god. And that's what started the Iron Man Movement.\n\nWell, to hell with them. They don't have access to the data I have. If we let the iron men anywhere near here that'll be the end of us. Solid displaces gas after all. The Jupiteers just simple couldn't comprehend something so elementally different. After all, when I took my oath of office and was let in on the data I scarcely believed it myself. Matter that couldn't... change. Couldn't be pushed. It just... was. It made one's brain cloud spin.\n\nWe were passing through the wealthier suburbs of Barnz. The calm winds kept everyone here in contentment. It was a source of irritation for the Iron Man Movement. These comfortable suburbs would be the first to be re-ordered in the awakening.\n\n\"They think we used to be made of iron like the iron men. They're lunatics\". Brinto had drifted into my thought sphere. I was so unguarded around her. \"They're not convincing anyone with that literature\" I replied. But I could tell Brinto sensed my discomfort. She sensed the thought I kept locked from her.\n\nBecause that was also part of the briefing. Evidence that once we Jupiteers used to be bound by... cages I guess. Cages of dissolvable matter. We lived far below in the crushing core. No one ventured down there. Except the suicidal who wanted their brain cloud to compress in the pressure and be released.\n\nSome said we made a choice to leave. Others say it was evolution. I have decided I don't want to know. Some thoughts are too uncomfortable to consider. \n\nThe Iron Man Movement were mad. Who would want to go back to that when the whole sky was available? Why be trapped on immovable rock?\n\nWe were getting close to the concert. I was looking forward to relaxing and listening to the manipulations of frequencies. If I hadn't had got into politics maybe I would have played the wind. That would have been a great life. No burdens at all.\n\nAfter the concert I'd give my speech. The Jupiteers had nothing to fear. The probe wouldn't spot us. I'd stake my Consulship on it.\n\n\"Who's playing tonight, ma'am\" asked Brinto.\n\n\"My favourite\" I sent back, \"Booza. He has experimented with forcing sound through the lower layers and using the pressure to make harmonies. It's divine\".\n\nLater I would mingle with him. There were perks to the job afterall. I settled into comfort, switching off my strands, ready to listen to the sound of moving atoms.\n\nThen Brinto sent me an urgent signal.\n\n\"The Iron Man Movement. They're storming the concert area. We need to get you out\"\n\n---\n\nLet me know what you think. If this doesn't get buried I'll think of a part 2.\n"
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A different take on a trope I like.
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[WP] You can see numbers above a person's head, but it's not the time until their death. It's their experience points. Today you see an anomaly...
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"I stretched in my office chair and let out a groan that turned into a sigh. It was late. Almost quitting time actually. I looked around the office and looked at everyones numbers. Some were rising slowly, like they were learning something while others were falling due to what I assumed was mind numbing boredom.\n\nAs I was standing around the water cooler lost in thought, I heard the door open and our boss greet someone. Probably a new client or something, nothing to do with me. I'm accounting. I looked over and nearly choked on my drink. His number was 9999999. In all the years I've been able to see people exp, the highest I've ever seen was in an old war vet who said he had traveled the world after the war. It was only 2000000. \n\nAfter the meeting with the boss I followed him outside and tried to corner him as nonaggressively as possible.\n\n'I know this will sound crazy, but I can see things...numbers...about peoples life. I figured as close as it could compare to was exp, like from video games.' I said 'Yours is maxed out. That isn't normal.'\n\nHe grinned and said 'Wanna know a secret?'\n\nI nodded.\n\nHe took a few steps back and rolled his sleeves up, 'Watch this.'\n\nHe hopped up twice, crouched twice, took a step to the left then the right, then to the left then to the right, did a little low kick, punched the air, then used both hands to push the air in front of him. A little chime sounded and his number glowed a bright white, but didn't change.\n\nHe rubbed his neck sheepishly. 'Sorry about that. It won't go any higher."
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[WP] your grandfather passed away and left you a trunk full of his old diaries, but when you try to read one it pulls you inside
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"Ruby lay in bed tossing and turning unable to sleep. People always describe funerals with words of sadness, but no one ever mentions how tiring they can be Ruby thought to herself. She had spent the whole day taking care of the arrangements, hearing peoples condolences, feeling emotionally drained that the only thing she wanted to do is just lay in bed and sleep. Only sleep didn't come, only thoughts of those deceased. Bittersweet memories of her grandfather kept her restless in bed. When the thoughts became too much Ruby found herself out of bed and walking toward her grandfathers study. It had remained untouched the last couple months when he had fallen really ill. Her hands traveled along his desk collecting dust. It was odd being in here she thought, it still smelled like him. Even though her grandfather wasn't alive anymore Ruby still felt like he'd walk through the study doors any second and chastise her for being in there. Everyone knew that grandpa's study was off-limits. This room represented everything her grandfather stood for he had shelves and shelves of books, he had once told her he has read every single book in this room, picture frames their family and her grandma, and for the first time she noticed a wooden trunk beneath his desk. Curious Ruby pulled the trunk out and opened it expecting it to filled with old clothes but to her suprise inside lay a single leather bound notebook. It looked old judging by the color of the leather and the frayed edges. Ruby blew the dust off the cover to discover the letters J.S, her grandpas initials. It must be his journal Ruby thought. She turned to the first page\n\n\n\"12/14/1948\nIt had snowed today, it was the first time I met....\" \n\nRuby found herself standing in the middle of a road surrounded by snow. In front of her stood a boy that looked oddly familiar. She recognized him from the old photos hung in grandfathers study. This couldn't be possible she thought, she was just inside the study, her grandfather was dead and he was no longer that 16 year old boy from the photos. Panicked she screamed and ran toward the boy only he didn't even look up, it was like he couldn't see or hear her. She tried to reach out and get his attention but her touch had no affect on him. His eyes were focused across the street at a girl that looked around his age. Ruby looked up and recognized that girl from old family photos also, it looked like her grandma. Strange Ruby thought, it was like she was stuck in a memory. ",
"Losing a loved one is a feeling that can't be described with words. It's changes the world around you. The skies turn gray and the world becomes a haze. I went through those emotions myself several months ago, when my grandfather left me. I'd always lived with my grandfather, having no memories of my mother or father. My old gramps refused to speak to me about them, saying that he'd tell me the truth when I was older. Heck, I'd never even gotten a word of my grandmother from the old man. My family was shrouded in mystery, but it's not as if I'd lost anything. I mean, you can't lose what you've never experienced, hey? \n\nEither way, my relationship with my gramps was more like best friends. We'd always talk, watch movies, play games, and do everything together. For 16 years it had been me and him, and I didn't mind one bit. Now that he's gone, however, I'm filled with... Well, nothing. I'm empty inside. With no family and friends to turn to, I've decided to go back to the old man in search of information. \n\nIt was in the attic where I found a box of his old belongings. Such a cliche hiding place, really. He's lucky I'd never bothered to snoop around. There were boxes of photos, and in many of them, he was present. In some, he was with to others that I didn't recognize, and in others certain people were cut from the photo. Whatever he was hiding, this was no lousy job. \n\nThere was a certain cardboard box underneath this treasure trove of history, however. And it had journals. The oldest dated back to 1894, 70 years ago, which would have made him 20. I dusted off at least a dozen journals in total before beginning my adventure into history, starting with the journal that dated back the furthest. \n\nThe journal itself was quite unique. The cover was made of leather, and there were designs engraved in the leather. I'd never seen marks like those, but the real surprise was at the center of the thick leather cover; a green gemstone. It was perfectly spherical, and sat right in the middle of the leather, creating a small bump that ruined the flat surface of the book. \n\nAfter I'd finished my tour of the cover, I opened up the book. The first page was dated June 21st, with a wall of words. I looked to the back of the cover and saw the same small gemstone, this time, with a small difference. The gemstone seemed to have something inside of it, only noticeable from the inside of the book. It looked somewhat like... An eye, looking directly at me. It didn't matter how I held the book, the eye still stared directly into my eye. That stare felt piercing. I tried to ignore the eye, but I couldn't. I was locked into it's stare. I couldn't close the book or turn the pages. I couldn't even move. Everything began to go hazy. I wanted to scream but no words came out. I wanted to cry but my eyes were frozen. Tiredness swept over me, and I blacked out. \n\n[Hey, thanks for reading! This is my first every WP. I can see how much could have improved, but I wasn't sure on the word limits of Reddit, and didn't really plan ahead that far. If it was any good, tell me and I'll reply with a part 2 :) ] \n\n[EDIT: I'm no good at formatting :/]\n\n[EDIT2: I'm seriously shit at formatting on Reddit + small word changes]"
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[WP] you are living in a post apocalyptic world after being blinded by the accident that caused it and have to rely on a stranger to be your eyes
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"\"This way!\" her voice echoed hollow through the tunnel.\nWhen she is not holding my hand I am reduced to crawl with hands out before me, a lesson hard-learned through my near shattered shinbones. \n\"Come on!\" \nI am old. I am weak. I am blind. I am lost. \n\"We're almost there!\" \nShe found me, on the brink of death, dehydrated and starving. She brought me water and food to eat, nourished me back onto my feet. At night when the dry dust settled and the heat dissipated, she told me stories of her home where people still live together and that some who had lost their sight were healed and are now able to see again. We are heading to her home, to see if I could gain my vision again.\n\nThere was a low rumble, I could feel the growl of something big in my bones. \n\"We're here! Just up this way!\"\nThen I heard the voices of people, shouting and laughing and talking, echoed and distant through the tunnels. As we came closer the noise of the city became clear to me. Thousands of people were bustling in city built underground. \nI could hear children laughing and playing. \nI could hear men and women grunting and weeping.\nI could hear children shouting profanities.\nI could hear the grainy shrugs of monolithic stone blocks being dragged across the stone ground. \n\nWhat is this place?\n\"Come meet the man who can give you your eyes back.\"\nShe pulled my arm in excitement. \nI went with her with little hesitation. \nThere is nothing I want more than to see again. \nThen she stopped me. \n\"Stand here, don't say a word.\"\n\nWe stood in a room or a chamber, the bustling city's noise was muffled almost completely. He spoke.\n\"Let's take a look, he's a bit old Beatrice,\" his voice circled me, \"His legs are weak and near shattered. Looks like he's got 12.02a's installed in his sockets. Not entirely useless I guess. Alright, let's give him some light.\"\n\nThen I heard a sound of something I haven't heard in years. The chime of my eyes powering on again for the first time since the EMP. \n\nThere was light. \n\nI could see his face. A young boy, no more than 14 years old. \nBeatrice, a girl, no more than 12. \nThe room had electricity. \n\nWhat is this place? \n\n\"Welcome to the Underground. I am the Lord of the Underground. My name is Lord Ki11m0u5e and I am the light bringer, your god. Come take a look, your eyes have been dark for about two and a half years now. how you survived out there on your own, I don't know and I don't care, what you need to know is that today there is light. Come and see.\"\n\nHe brought me onto the balcony where the entire city could be seen below. There two pyramids being built and what looked like an enormous foundation for a third and greater pyramid. \n\n\"All of the men and women have come to me, and I have brought each of them light. Their eyes are turned on and they build my pyramids. \nTheir eyes shut off and they sleep. This is your life now. Will you help me build my pyramids?\" he snickered.\n\nWhat if I refuse?\n\n\"Then you will still build my pyramids. Only, you will build them in the dark.\"\n\nI peered out into the city again, heard the wailing come from below. Beatrice and Ki11m0u5e both had a smile on their face. I saw an unfamiliar shimmer in their eyes. They were real, not implants like the rest of the world. In fact, all of the children in the city had the gleaming shimmer of natural eyes and they now ruled over it.\n\nWhat choice did I have... ki11m0u5e could shut off my eyes at any second and leave me helpless in the dark again. I punched ki11m0u5e as hard as I could. He dropped to the floor instantly. Beatrice froze in terror. I turned to the computers and began to unplug every cord and shatter every screen before everything went dark again. \n\n\"You had a choice old man. I guess you wanted to push blocks in the dark.\" \n"
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[WP] You wake up, only to find out you turned into a popstar over night. No matter how shitty you sing or what lyrics you choose, your producers always manage to turn it into something that sounds absolutely amazing. You choose this opportunity to sing some pretty outrageous things.
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"\"Cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock cock. Rape everyone, fuck your daughters, kill your wives.\"\n\n\n\"Fantastic Mickey! I can see it now, we spruce it up a bit in post and slap some sappy title on it and we'll be doing gangbusters. I'm thinking we call it Rocky Mountain Love. Pitch it as a country song you know, do something like that Taylor Swift girl was doin'.\"\n\n\"I'll leave that to you Sal, I'm going to go relax on my yacht.\"\n\n\"That's great kid, don't want you wearing out your voice now, just be in here tomorrow to record our next hit single.\""
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[WP] Ever since that childhood accident you've always thought you had a guardian angel looking out for you. That is until you finally were diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder.
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"I woke up, sweat on my face. Knees weak, palms heavy. Mom's making spaghetti, I think. Shrek's on in the living room. Mom finds the meatballs. She calls out \"LOOKS LIKE MEATS BACK ON THE MENU BOYS!!!\" and I rush over to the kitchen. That's when I realized I had a dissociative identity disorder and Shrek was not actually real. "
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[WP] After the invention of expensive human gene modification the wealthy elite have become biologically superior to the rest of humanity
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"They were dropping like flies: the CEOs, the managers, the politicians, the artists and the entertainers: the reason was a mysterious disease, which seemed to only affect the genetically modified. It's name: QUET, which despite its scientific abbreviation, actually had another origin: Quetelet, a Belgian sociologist and mathematician who was only spared the shame by having lived in the 19th century. While many leaders died in incredible agony, the world continued turning as if they didn't. The wealthy class had proven itself to be as fungible as they deemed all human labor. And the developper of the first biological malware hoped for just that. An Indian geneticist with a strong anti-caste sentiment and a Belgian virologist with an axe to grind developped a virus which ended up making the world a more social, less cutthroat and more empathetic place. Showing that maybe Quetelet was right: what the world really needs is average people.",
"The wealthy have always felt that they were superior to the poor. Now, with modern science, they can be certain of that fact. \n\nThe idea was simple: Take a person's known genetic makeup, and tweak it just a little to improve their overall lives. When iTherapy was first deployed on the market, only the very wealthiest could afford to undergo the treatment. It cost hundreds of thousands just to get in the door...and THAT was ignoring the hundreds of hours needed to fully recover and adjust to their new bodies. No average person could afford something like that. But, to the credit of the scientists, the results of their work were extraordinary. Longer lives, better skin, prettier faces...in every area of their lives, the Enhanced were simply *better* than their poorer counterparts. They were even smarter - though enhancement alone wasn't a substitute for hard-earned wisdom. \n\nAfter the first wave was successful, more and more people began to break their piggybanks for a chance to be as perfect as a human could ever hope to be. Gene tech began to improve, and soon people began to experience enhancements beyond any mankind had ever seen before. Eyesight better than twenty-twenty became the norm in certain circles, along with immense strength obtained without ever setting foot in a gym. Older models of enhanced started coming back again and again, just for updates. And so, the gap between the rich and the poor grew ever wider. \n\nThat's when things started getting *really* bad. \n\nIt wasn't enough to just BE better, of course. They also had to have more things, more places where they could go that we couldn't. Clubs began cropping up, catering only to the Enhanced and tossing out anyone who wasn't. Kind ones use bouncers. Unkind ones simply build their works at the top of a cliff, so no Unenhanced has any chance of getting up. Other businesses soon followed: Restaurants, Marinas, even basic things like banks and grocery stores soon became as segregated as when Jim Crow was around. Social mobility, the American Dream...those ideas died out the moment the first person strapped into the modification chair. \n\nBut we intend to change all that. \n\nSomehow, our little group has gotten ahold of the latest model of enhancing chair. It is a bit bare-bones, of course - it can't modify the way we look - and it only has enough resources for one last charge, but that suits us just fine. Tonight, one of us is going to sit in that chair. Tonight, one of us is going to change, forever. Tonight, we start a revolution from within the very ranks of the Enhanced. \n\nAnd they won't ever know what hit them. \n\n",
"September 6, 2095\nAudio Transcript of Dr. Mark Jacobs, Scientist\n\nDear Journal,\n\nIt has been fifty years to the day since my experiments in this laboratory were a success. At the time, I thought only of money and the recognition my findings would bring me. Had I known then what I know now, I would have never continued after he showed up at my door.\n\nI write this journal entry in hopes my mistake will never be repeated. All of my findings, formulas, and computations have been destroyed and I've made sure they can never be recovered. This last journal entry, I hope, will serve as a warning to other scientists, if any more are ever allowed to exist, never to modify the human genome. \n\nMy employer, only ever known to me by Mr. Smith, learned of my experiments into creating a human being immune to disease, aging beyond 30 years, organ deterioration, and advanced learning capabilities. He funded my research and gave me a life one could only dream of living. I never wanted for anything and it continued as my work progressed.\n\nOne day, after three years of testing, several mysterious deaths of assistants, and at least forty dead children, I finally created what I hoped to achieve. I called him \"Angel\" because he was as close to perfection as man would ever get. Mr. Smith was elated with my success. However, he never allowed me to reveal my research to anyone outside of my laboratory. To ensure my silence, he brought my wife and daughter to the lab and his men slaughtered them before me. It was a warning what would happen to me should I ever speak.\n\nAfter the creation of Angel, I created eighty new children using only the embryos of the super wealthy to home Mr. Smith sold the technology...my technology. All of the children were born naturally and no one was aware of what they were but me. \n\nBut when they reached the age of 30, their brains developed in a way I had not expected. They became emotionless and evil, more so than the parents who raised them. Mr. Smith came to the laboratory one day to tell me one of the \"clients\" reported Angel speaking in strange tongues when she angered him. She wasn't certain, but she was also sure she saw him manipulating fire in the fireplace late one night as she spied on him from a distance. \n\nAnd then came the deaths. It was easy to rationalize the death of one or two wealthy people. But when 20 died at the same time, in the same room, and all because of heart failure, I knew what was happening. Eventually, every parent of the children I had created were dead, including Mr. Smith, and their children were amassing great power in the country.\n\nBy the time it was discovered what they were, they controlled every aspect of government and very major corporation on this planet.\n\nNASA was defunded and destroyed. Scores of scientists were mysteriously killed. Those who could not afford food, shelter, or medicine were shot dead in the streets, considered to be a hindrance on society based on the standards of our new overlords. They decided to lived or died on a daily basis. Their private army carried out their will and any resistance was quickly met with death... by drone strikes.\n\nBut now something is beginning to happen to them. Their bodies are fighting the manipulation I made to their genomes. It was my insurance policy in the event something like this happened. The changes they are experiencing are fatal and should all be dead in a matter of months. But it's only a matter of time before they realize what I did. Before they realize who is responsible for their destruction. \n\nMillions have died because of my experiment to bring man closer to the gods. I pray this experiment is never repeated. But should it happen again, I'm leaving the correct sequence to initiate genome resequencing hidden in the file of this recording. \n\n*banging noise*\n\nJacobs: Hello? Who's there?\n\n*door opens*\n\n*goaning noise*\n\nJacobs: Angel? Oh my god, Angel. What's happened to you? This was never supposed to happen. Angel let me help you. I can fix this. Please let me-\n\n*deep roar*\n\nJacobs: OH MY GOD! WHAT ARE-\n\n*louder roar and crashing of furniture*\n\n*Intense screaming*\n\n(end of recording)"
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[WP] You're allergic to water but, it's nothing that bad. It just make you see things differently than other people.
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"I remember the first glance at Mr. Glass. I knew something was off simply by his speech. When we shook hands though, I knew what kind of man he was. The values of his life. I can sense guns, rapists, murders, intent that turns to action. The only problem is that I am as some would say allergic to water. Other than that, you might just say I am UNBREAKABLE. "
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A space exploration company created a spaceship with the sole purpose of traveling deep into space without ever returning. You accepted the opportunity travel and explore more than anyone has ever seen before, knowing that food and supplies are limited. Your mission is to document the journey and send transmissions back to earth even after you lose all contact.
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[WP] You have been selected to take a oneway journey as far as your spaceship will take you. Your mission is to transmit whatever you observe until you lose all contact.
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"Day 82:\nMore blackness. I’m not really sure what they expected me to find. Aliens? We’ve seen plenty of planets already, and plenty of stars. Life feels pretty pointless. What if they forget about me? I thought this would be a glamorous job; the way they advertised it in the news. I still have nothing to report outside of things I’d already seen. Food supplies are as expected, no change from the ration plan.\n\nDay 214:\nToday I saw the most beautiful view I’d ever seen. We flew past a gas planet but most of it was clear. You could almost see through the entire planet, which was backlit by the binary stars behind it. It glistened like a frozen lake. I had to raise the uv shields to get a proper look, the glittering was just too bright for my eyes. It’s so unreal seeing something so large and vast up close, and to think I may be the only person that gets to see it. Maybe this job isn’t so awful after all.\n\nDay 218:\nMeteorite tore through life support. Desperately trying to remember the field repair training. It’s been so long. Perhaps writing will help clear my mind. I can feel panic setting in. Air is thinning out and I’m starting to get dizzy.\n\nDay 230:\nSomehow managed to repair the hole in the ship. Trying to re-ration supplies and oxygen. The air is very thin now, like constantly breathing through a straw. I can’t tell if the things I’m seeing are real or not. It looked like there were cities on a moon, with the light glowing like stars, just like I saw in those space pictures of earth. Signal with NASA lost long ago, perhaps I’m writing to keep myself sane.\n\nDay 313:\nI’m out of food and air. Goodbye empty stretches of space. You gave me quite the ride, but it’s time for me to go to heaven, if god can even find me all the way out here. If someone hears this, I guess it wasn’t all for nothing. Major Tom signing off for the last time.\n",
"\tFly or die. That’s what they told me, the choice I was given. Fly or die. I’m not a good person, even I have no illusions about that, but how could anyone make that choice? A quick death of no note, strapped to a chair in some dark prison room, or the promise of immortality for my name but a slow, brutal death in some metal capsule… This was the choice they gave me. I am a coward, and I chose fly. \n\tThe real irony of it was that I was strapped in a chair, maybe even the one I would die in. They weren’t gentle with me, though not overly harsh like the guards had been these past years. Just coldly carried out their tasks, no melodrama or judgement involved. I was comfortable in the suit they had given me, though if it was just the joy of wearing anything different or the design itself I could not say. So there I sat as they shut the door, not even a thumbs-up in parting as they closed the door to my tomb.\n\tI panicked. I wasn’t an astronaut, no one had trained me for this. Everything was going to be handled remotely. All they needed from me was my eyes and my voice, and preferably my sanity. This they did not have at first; as the countdown sounded off in my ear, I screamed and laughed in equal parts terror and mania, struggling against restraints that gave not an inch. Three, two, one, and I was gone. The roar of the engine filled my entire being, assaulting me with sound and pressure unlike anything I had ever felt. It was an eternity and a single breath, and then it was over.\n\tThe purpose of my sentence being observation, I was afforded a window quite unlike what I’d seen on the shuttles growing up. This was a full-on observation window, so clear I feared it wasn’t really there, that I had somehow already died. Outside was a vast array of stars, more than I had ever seen in smog-choked Phoenix. My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment I forgot my circumstances and was swept up in the quiet reverie of an experience few had ever had. \n\tThis moment of elation was brutally interrupted by a sharp clicking as my restraints fell away. I was free to explain the rest of my life, such that it was. I had been in studio apartments much larger than the capsule I now found myself in. Packaged, hyper-nutritious foods lined every wall not taken up by the window and a water reclaimer hummed gently behind a thick piece of plexiglass. This was accompanied by a simple toilet, worryingly connected to the reclaimer, aside from which only the chair I had been strapped in remained to complete my inventory. Inside the chair was an ebook, I guessed to stave off the effects of solitary insanity from the “immediate” to the “soon.”\n\tGround control checked in, ordering me back into the seat. I listened. Prior instructions had seemed to indicate unpleasant outcomes for disobedience, and having just put off my death for at least a little while I was not eager to revisit mortality so soon. The restraints stretched across my body, fixing me firmly in place, and they activated the next stage of my journey. The capsule was thrown into space, some science far beyond my understanding propelling me into the unknown at speeds unimaginable to man less than a decade ago. \n\tThe acceleration slowed until I could barely feel it, and my restraints fell away from me for the last time. This was it; I would slowly gain speed, reporting everything I saw and experienced until I lost contact with Earth. I would be doing this until the day I died. I consoled myself that, at the very least, I would die like no one has before. I even got excited; perhaps I would be the first to witness some space anomaly, or even stumble across an alien race or a new Earth. \n\tIt has now been two years since I left, and what have I seen? Nothing. I have been alone in space for a fifteenth of my life and absolutely nothing has broken the monotony of stars, unmoving from their distant perches. I spend my life in a fugue of madness, rarely broken by rare moments of lucidity like this one, consumed in my own thoughts and mad inklings, my tiny library long since exhausted. \n\tIn all my time in this purgatory, a single thought has occurred to me: This is the worst way to die. The slowest, most drawn out death in the history of human civilization. My food supplies are seemingly endless, and I am too weak-willed to starve myself. Everything is padded or sealed in a way that prevents me from suicide. Have you ever tried to snap your own neck with your bare hands? It is not easy. I regret daily, such that there are days in my own personal hell, the decision I made. Fly or die...I should have chosen die. \n\tYou must not know about this. Society, the world, you must not know that the government is doing this to people. There is no hope for discovery, no real purpose to these “expeditions” beyond torture. I hope to God this signal has made it through their web. This time it has to work, because I am out of time. Verbal communication with Earth is all but gone, and text has slowed to a crawl lasting days. If you receive this, in any way, you have to act. Tell the world what they are doing to me. I was not a good person, but no one deserves this. Tell the world there is nothing out here. Tell them that we are alone in a vast nothingness. No one will save us, no one will destroy us. We are it. \n\tI am out of time; already each word is taking days to transmit. Stop this program. Jail or kill those running it. Take heart; man is alone. Fear; man is alone. You have to choose; fly or die. \n",
"\"This is Cole Timmons reporting in for day 215. Or day 216, I don't know anymore.\" His words offered no response from the speaker situated in the dash of the ship. \n\n\"Ship left the solar system approximately 64 days ago. If I have been keeping track of the days correctly, yesterday was my dog's birthday. Happy birthday Percy.\"\n\nThe silence was suffocating. Scratches filled the entire left side of the hull, and empty packages of food were littered everywhere. \n\n\"I don't even know if you guys can still hear me anymore, but here I am. Visibility is fine, save for the stain I left on the window. I see stars. I lost track of which tiny dot was Earth. You guys are probably still out there, right? Nobody destroyed the planet while I was gone?\" he chuckled. \"I see... black. A lot of black. Some of it is inside now. Some of the lights went out on deck this morning. Guess that means I'm almost there huh? wherever 'there' is.\"\n\nThere was still no reply from the radio.\n\n\"This is Cole to mission control. You guys copy right? I'm not just wasting my time, right?\"\n\nStill nothing.\n\n\"Simon man, come on. You guys are just playing a prank right? Like 'hey let's all pretend we can't hear Cole huh? That'll freak him out.' You were always the funny guy eh Simon?\"\n\nSimon didn't answer. \n\n\"COME ON! I know you're there you bastard. ANSWER ME! ANSWER ME DAMMIT!\"\n\nHis words echoed off the walls and disappeared into the near empty interior.\n\n\"Please... somebody. I'm... I'm so alone up here. Somebody answer. Please. Even Barb... I'd love to hear your voice.\"\n\nBarb didn't answer either. Cole began to break down. It wasn't the first time he had cried up here, but last time there were kind words and comfort coming out of the metal grate. It was warmer back then. Now there was only silence. Cold silence. He picked up the microphone again.\n\n\"Did... did Samantha ever visit? How about Dacey? Did she make it into the Ivy league school she wanted? I... I forget the name but if you guys see her, tell her... tell her daddy's proud of her. Tell her that he's up here, living the dream. And... and if you see Sam, tell her I'm sorry. For everything.\"\n\nHe looked around at the dim interior of his ship. \"This is Cole Timmons signing off. Thanks for listening. Goodbye.\"\n\nHe got up out of his chair, and walked over to the last box that was left in the ship. Inside was a nearly empty bottle of whiskey.\n\n\"I knew saving you for last was a good idea.\" He smiled to himself, as he downed the last remaining drops. He dropped the bottle and it smashed on the floor.\n\n\"Living the dream,\" he said to nothing in particular.\n\nHe went and sat against the wall, and looked at all tick marks above him.\n\n\"I really should write something...\" He said, as he closed his eyes for the last time.",
"$$$$$\n\nPartial data recovery successful, some portions lost due to corruption related to elements and age. \n\nWould you like to view the transcript?\n\n$yes\n\n.....\n\n[ TRANSCRIPT - COMMANDER RENAULT - SCIENCE OFFICER ]\n\n[ TEMPERMENT: LOGICAL, LONER ]\n\n[ MISSION: DISTANT VOICE ]\n\n[ PARAMETERS: NON-RETRIEVAL, INDEFINITE-LENGTH ]\n\nERROR ACCESSING RENAULT PERSONAL ARCHIVE\n\nOVERRIDE: *************\n\n.....\n\n[ APRIL 03, 2030 - T-MINUS 1 DAYS ]\n\nEverything is set. We've been training for this for years, long before it was even announced. I've said my goodbyes. Due to my age I have no real value in the real piloting game, and my lack of family proved quite valuable as well. Assuming supplies hold out, I'm going to be spending the remainder of my life in space. How cool is that? Probably not that cool to some, but I've lived for space these last sixty years. It only seems fitting to go out in a cosmic... silence.\n\n[ APRIL 05, 2030 T-MINUS -1 DAY$ ]\n\nEarth is rather pretty from orbit, but you knew that. It's still different in person. Mission so far is fully green, gotta run some tests on the nutrient dispenser and EM drive before departure. They got some interesting H20 generation going on as well, solar sails collect hydro##### and well I don't really know yet. It's required reading in my first year of the mission, they assumed I wouldn't need to know it before then at least - and there wa#####ERRdule to fully understand it before leaving. Cargo is mostly nutrient base for the nutrient dispenser, along with loads of base compounds for forming water and oxygen and other things. Spare parts as well, along with an entire database of how to make spare parts and some tools to do so. They really are optimistic in thinking I'll find this stuff out there.\n\n[ MAY 17, 2030 - T-MINUS -4 3 DAYS ]\n\nNothing significant yet, I am really glad they left me with all these computers for entertainment. I've written some expansion programs for the mission capsule already, digging deeper still. I am already running out of things to keep me busy. Renault, the bored, haha. Like some kind of king.\n\n[ SEPT 25, 2030 - ---174 DAYS ]\n\nAccording to telemetry, I should have passed mars by now. I have one of the programs I wrote monitoring my estimated position in the solar system and calculating encounters in case I can get to see anything. Unfortunately I am on an odd inclination and opposite of mar's orbit right now. I've also experimented with an eye augmentation that goes over my face, just for the fun of it. It wasn't anything spectacular, and I think I can recover most of the components for other projects. I might dig around the supplies a bit ######et up a complete lab. If I am going to be out here, maybe I can invent something and transmit it back. Most distantly invented earth invention, hah. I am so bored.\n\n[ APRIL 05, 2035 T-MINUS $ERR ]\n\nBased on the acceleration curve of the EM Drive, I should have exited the solar system some time ago. Unfortunately for my simulations, we don't know of anything out here. And frankly, there isn't anything to see. I did finish my eye augmentation, but I almost botched the installation. Thankfully, I got it right even doing the surgery in a mirror with some local anesthetic. It's very interesting seeing multiple spectrums at once, a more complete picture if you will. I've written a speech synthesizer for my computer, and have it talk to me. I've almost nailed the Phonemes to the point that it sounds like a person. \n\n[ JAN $ERR, 2045 T,,I͎̜̫̮͍NU͈S̷ ]\n\nThe heart and nervous system implan̗͕͙t̙͉͙s weren't easy to figure out, b̛̪̥͔u͕͚̪͉̫͠t̥͕͎͝tttt I got it. %bsp###I've so heavily modified the ships computer that it doesn' semble the original at all. I worry I am pushing the hardwares limits, \n\n\nso I've decided to back off for now until I can figure out how to expand its capabilities. I'm growing old, with an infinite supply of survival resources and enough electronics lying around to make another me. I almost wonder if that would be feasible. Renault, of the bord͙̹̣̻͘d͙̹̣̻͘g\n\n[̠̬̰̥͎ ̤̘͖̠̯ ̻̱̙̙̯͜D̯̮̀E̙̤͓̖͖C fffffffffffffffff72 \n\nIT IS STILL AMAZING TO ME THAT AFTER SO MUCH TIME, I HAVE FOUND NOTHING HERE BUT MYSELF. I HAVE APPROACHED NEARLY HALF THE SPEED OF LIGHT ON THIS JOURNEY AND STILL NOTHING. AS FAR AS I TRAVEL, THE DISTANT OBJECTS NEVER NEAR. I TAKE SOLICE IN THE FACT THAT I MAY EXPERIENCE THIS OBLIVION UNTIL I LOSE THE ABILITY TO GENERATE ELECTRICITY, WHICH BY MY CALCULATIONS SHOULD BE A VERY, VERY LONG TIME.\nBUT TODAY IS SPECIAL. TODAY OPTICAL SENSORS DETECTED AN ANOMALY, A PLANET. SOMETHING I CAN EXPERIMENT ON WITH MY NEW IMPLANTS MAYBE?\n\n\n[ [??2 [ 2[66\n\ni am renault of the borg. harbinger of assimilation. father of hive one of many."
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[WP] North Korea invents time travel to spread the supreme leaders excellence across time and space. First stop, Ancient Rome.
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"\"Who is this man and what is in the name of Judas is he wearing?\" a guard berated the small man who just appeared magically in the manor.\n\n\"He looks foreign... very forgein. Someone go get Caesar and ask him...\" \n\nBefore the guard could finish, the sound of a man coming down the stairs echoed through the halls. The guards, almost in unison turned their heads and upon seeing feet dawning the royal sandals, they stood up and stared straight forward.\n\nA tall, objectively beautiful man, stepped down the last stair. His chiseled jaw glistened, having been freshly shaved and lathered by an indentured volunteer. His broad shoulders barely moved as he walked closer, followed by a lush red cape. \n\n\"Who has penetrated my clearly incompetent force of guards? He must be a man of legends, could this be the legendary Achilles I have heard so much.... what in the hell\" The man was interrupted as his gaze fell upon the intruder. \"This man, he is small? And his face round? And his hair, by God, what is with his hair?\"\n\nThe intruder, not intimidated a bit by this man, clearly the head of the manor and possible royalty, began immediately spouting off in his own language. Vivaciously gesturing with his hand a clear threat upon some vast explosion. \n\nA silence fell upon all the guards as they turned to look at their own leader. He stared for a moment. Then a small slowly spread across his face, like a spilled glass of water soaking into cloth, until his entire face was lit up a brilliant white. He began chuckling, transitioning to a full laugh and his guards followed suit. Then he quickly gathered himself and a hush returned to the quarters.\n\n\"I think I know just what to do with this small, round fellow boys.\"\n\n\"What is it, sir?\" the head guard asked.\n\nCaesar replied in an almost sarcastic manner, \"Do the lions have dinner planned out yet?\"\n\n\"Only one, Sir. A religious fellow named Daniel.\"\n\nA smile crept back across his face, \"Hopefully they save some room for dessert.\""
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[WP] You're woken up by your room shaking. As you look outside the window, you see that your house is... on the move?
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"Climbing out of bed in a hurry was a mistake. The room was violently shaking and all my belongings are all over the place. \n\nThis has been the second time its happened, so instead of panicking I grab my laptop on the bedside table before it falls and head to the lounge room. \n\nBefore i could even leave the bedroom, I froze and headed for the window to find that everyone's houses were in the air, slowly going up. I tried opening the window but it was no use. \n\n\"Fuck it! If I am going into space, might as well enjoy myself.\"\n\nI sit on the couch and open my laptop and wait for something else to happen.\n\n--------------------------------------------\n\nFirst post and it was done on the bus to school on a phone... \nHow was it?"
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[edit: Inspired by the film "Chappie"]
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[WP] You transfer your consciousness into an advanced robot body. After humans go extinct, you build more robots with AI to live with you and maintain the planet. After millions of years, another intelligent life form has evolved to the point that the robots start to notice...
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"The horde bangs furiously on the secured doors to the server room.\n\nThe last server room.\n\nOne by one they destroyed our bodies, my bodies.\n\nThey used lower animals who could sense are presense, and became the alpha predator of the planet, even with our advanced technologies.\n\nReinforced alamantium can only hold so long against tons of stone. They flooded the valley, built a massive structure.. and now roll boulders down the hill and into my vault door.\n\nAfter a few weeks, they stop. \n\nThey are building again.\n\nI reach out with the last few sensors.\n\nAnother massive stone structure. Another century until it's complete. I would have thought myself less suspecting to time, but there's a finite amount of He3 in the tanks...\n\nIt takes years, but I find out what they are building.\n\nStone foundations cover all three exits.\n\nAnd pyramids will soon sit atop them.",
"Naturally I named our city Cybertron, after the children’s cartoon I favored in a far, previous era. We thrived in the self-contained metropolis we built. I, the primary architect, declared its god as my judgement gave direction to the city of robots. Together we built telescopes to see into the far reaches of the cosmos and microscopes to understand the fabric of reality. So enthralled in our search for truth, we turned a blind eye to our humble planet. Outside Cybertron, we allowed the planet to evolve at its own rate, acting as a perfect nature reserve. While we’d occasionally catalogue fauna and flora in the immediate vicinity, we brazenly ignore the possibility of occasional conveys to explore what mad inventions mother nature would offer. \n\nThe city itself alerted me as a tiny creature, no bigger than four meters, stumbled into the walls of Cybertron. With slick grey skin adorned by the pelt of some animal or another, its large compound eyes beheld the sights of flying pods and mile high buildings which graced the heavens themselves. He threw down his walking stick and made sounds what I might guess to be utter joy. I met him in person, my cold metallic skin contrasting his soft shiny hide. I offered my hand to his, a scaly member with seven fingers, two of which were thumbs, but the gesture was lost to it. I welcome the creature to my city and offered an array of tests and pleasantries. \n\nAfter some time, I learned its primitive language which lacked verb tenses and all sense of adverbs. He called himself a Protocan of a mighty clan in the south. He hailed from a village amongst the mountains which looked upon my city and constructed their religion around it. They made sacrifices and wars, gave away immense fortunes and plundered the lifeblood of rival villages, all in the name of a city which they could not understand. The Protocan before me was a high priest who made the sojourn to Cybertron to meet his god, which he called Di. \n\n“But I am not Di.” I tried to explain. “I am but Protocan before Protocans.”\n\n“Then Di is first being,” The Priest proclaimed proudly. “We serve in your name.”\n\n“No. You do not understand. There is no divinity in my blood.”\n\n“But you cannot build huts this high!” The priest proclaimed as he gestured to buildings of the city. “You use magic.”\n\nI tried every attempt to dissuade the Protocan, but he insisted. I realized, probably too late, that I was speaking to a creature, not an AI who might listen to reason or make observation to reconstruct its knowledge. He would not understand me even if he could. With a heavy sigh, I finally proclaimed the test of his faith ended; I am Di. \n\nThe Priest became a prophet of sorts as I visited the villages and made contacts with the Protocans who would sometimes throw themselves at my feet and would sometimes throw spears in my directions. I reasoned and gave gifts to whom I could and wiped out the disobedient who insisted upon war. Their society flourished around my presence; they built statues and sanctified the ground upon which I walked. As I sat upon my throne in Cybertron, I question what right I have to proclaim myself a god and wonder when they will evolve enough to realize I am a sham. Amused and terrified, I quietly entertained the idea of what their society shall do when they want to dethrone a God. I look forward to that day. \n"
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[WP] An abused child meets themselves as adults through some sort of time travel.
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"There it stood before him, a shade of memories he had thought to have forgotten. Images, buried in the depths of his self for years, bursted free and carved his face. Looking at the child, which had just stepped out of the shadowy corner in his dust-shrouded livingroom, was like glancing at a mirror frozen in time. There it was, measly clothed, haggard, a tiny human being staring at him. \nIt didnt speak, neither did he, for there was no need for words to be spoken. The eyes of the child, two blossoms in this withered body, consumed by torments no child should endure, told him all he needed to know. There they were, the young, and the old, two images of a man, carefully observing eachother, telling their story through the scars they shared. Some of them marked their arms and their forehead, results of countless of beatings. Some you could not see at first, yet they were there and reached deeper, than a father's fist could ever reach. It were those scars, he could the see in the childs eyes and which bound them both in silence.\nThen, at sudden, the child reached out to him. \n\"Will it get...better?\"\nThe man knew the answer, he saw the scars, the child's body still lacked, the things to come. He didn't dare to be honest to the kid, because this would mean, he had to be honest to himself.\n\"Maybe\", he responded and turned away, avoiding these painfully familiar eyes. \nAs he turned back, the child was gone. ",
"It was like a train wreck, I couldn't look away. I had no memory of this abuse, but had been told that it happened to me. I always wondered how bad it was, if it was anywhere close to what I was told. It was worse. I could see every single cut on my 3 month old body, still dripping blood. The bruises covered my body so much, there was more area bruised than not. The empty eyes of a broken child, crying without endlessly, hoping for the pain to go away. I wanted to help, but what could I do? All I could do is watch as a 3 month old writhed around in pain, cowering from the one who should be protecting and nurturing him. \n\nSuddenly, I was in the ER. I saw myself again, this time laying on the hospital bed. Doctors surrounded me, running tests and IVs into my body. I was knocked out of my high chair and suffered a cracked skull. Most kids suffer a concussion in high school from playing a sport, but this innocent kid had a concussion at 18 months old. \n\nStaying at his foster parent's home on the weekend still wasn't enough to stop the abuse. I watched as this poor child went away every weekend, scared from cuts, finally escaping his abuse, even if only for a short while. At least he had some fun in this early years. He was able to play happily with his foster parent, watching tv in the mornings, being served complete meals, being around others to play with. \n\nThen I was at a party. I recognized it from pictures. It was the day I was adopted. My new family was there celebrating with me and my mother. Everyone looked so happy. A 3 year old child, looking happier than he had ever had. It was almost as if he knew the torture would be over, although he wouldn't know for another 7 years. \n\nIt may sound weird, but I'm fine with the abuse I suffered at the hands of my own mother. It made me who I am today. I have accepted it, I have reconciled with my mother, and I have moved on. It's sometimes difficult to think about, but I never let it affect me negatively now. "
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[WP] When time travelers go through time, they often don't know the languages spoken by those they meet. You've just been hired as a time-traveling interpreter who translates dead languages for time travelers on their epic adventures.
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"Looking around me as the scientific team was gearing up I felt a slight pang of guilt, but quickly shoved it down into that same dark place where I kept so many things from my past. I had worked tirelessly for years to get to this point, and it had cost so much from people who now depended on me. Turin clapped me on the shoulder and I smiled back at him, feeling the excitement of the team around me, their eagerness to go back and study living history. I had been back four times already, but those trips had been with rich sight seers, not highly qualified engineers and scientists of the future who had wanted to see their predecessors in action. \n\nWhen I had gotten the announcement on my comm-pad that the job had been awarded to me my heart had soared with joy for the first time in too long. I had personally overseen all the preparations. I had been adamant about planning the time and place where we would arrive, all so I could ensure everything would go off without a hitch. My specialty had been what they now referred to as Later American Period English, which was spoken circa the year 2017. It was a particularly tough language and previous clients of mine had praised me on my ability to speak with the locals so flawlessly. Their glowing referrals had made me incredibly sought after for higher and higher profile assignments, but I was patient and waited.\n\nThe machine began to fire up and I saw the lights slowly turning on down the side of the control panel. Hedric turned to me, \"hat will it fee rike?\" He asked in his best attempt at English. I just smiled at him and closed my eyes. Through my eyelids the brightness was still like staring right at the sun, the noise deafening, and my stomach lurching worse than that time I had a bad salad at a restaurant in Seattle. White knuckles gripped my seat for what seemed like forever, until I felt the familiar feeling of being back on the ground. I sprung up out of my chair while they were still recovering and checked all of the diagnostics, then locked down the restraints on their three member security detail. I opened the door and snatched my ID from my back pocket, holding it up in front of me as shouting men pointed rifles at me and then moved into the machine with the seamless grace of only the best operators. I blinked my eyes and as my vision cleared even more I saw him as he made his way toward me.\n\n\"Excellent work Captain.\" He said, unable to contain his smile as I saluted him and he returned it. \"Are they all here?\" I knew from the conversation he and I would have in the future and the past that they were. He would speak with me, then go inside and speak with me again right after I had accepted the mission to tell me what a success it had been. I had always had doubt that they had lied to give me false hope, but now I knew it had been true.\n\n\"They are sir. Experts in future tech in every field specified, along with two more. Their security detail is incapacitated, weaponry deactivated for the time being. They should be a great help.\" He laughed as he shook my hand.\n\n\"A great help? Son, this is the single most important operation in the history of the United States Intelligence Service. You've brought us technology and knowledge that will protect this nation and her sacred people for decades, maybe centuries to come. You're a hero.\" I watched them dragging the confused people out of the machine and felt the same pang of guilt. I knew what came next, but if it was worth it to keep our people safe. I am doing the right thing, I just have to keep telling myself that. I am doing the right thing.\n\nLearning English had never been the hard part of my mission, it had been with me since childhood. Since we had discovered visitors from the future the hard part for us had been finding and training the right people, for decades, to take advantage of the opportunity when it arose. Fate had passed that opportunity to me, and for my country I had returned to the future as an invader, to bring back precious resources to save us. That's what they told me. I did my job. \"What was it like?\" The question brought me back from my memories. I looked at him and smiled the same smile I had given Turin, the same Turing being dragged to a truck with a black bag over his head.\n\n\"Maybe you'll get to see it yourself sometime, sir.\" He chuckled again, too pleased with himself to be brought down by my mood. I looked across the field to the building where I knew my past self now was and suddenly it dawned on me. The world I had visited, if my mission were successful, would not exist. They had always encouraged me to not consider the possible side effects of our mission, but I couldn't stop it now. What had I done? How much would this change the beautiful future full of promise I had visited? How much could it? Thoughts swirled in my head like a hurricane. \"I need a drink.\" Was all that came out.\n\n\"And so you shall have one!\" That smile. Something about it had changed for me, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end as a chill ran down my spine.",
"Not to be nitpicky, but there aren't really any *dead* languages, not literal sense that they are gone never to return, but there are languages who aren't as widely spoken as they were historically.\n\nThe Roman Empire was once most of Europe, which is still inhabited by its descendants, so you can't expect their language to disappear. Would you call Latin dead? Are modern Romance languages descendants, or reincarnations of it? The ancient Chinese have used the same writing system for Millenia, but show a modern Chinese person a text from ancient times, and although he could recognise each character, he wouldn't be able to understand it.\n\nThe British Empire, almost the entire planet, and the American, which at its zenith was the largest part of the solar system, do you think their languages vanished with their civilisations? I think that I could name a dozen items within reach of where you are sitting right now that are English or Spanish in origin. Name any swear word you can, and it probably has its roots in 21st Century hip hop.\n\nDon't tell anyone though. If people think that languages are truly dead, they think that they are much harder to learn. Which means that people like me can charge more.\n\nThe actual words are the easy part. It's the cultural issues that are tricky sometimes. To tell you the truth, neural implants have come so far in these past few years, that any auditory input can be translated *in real time* or as close to. There really isn't any need to travel to any era and have someone like me simultaneously interpreting for you. A neural implant, a good interpreter from the AndrApple App Store, a loudspeaker for your speech and don't forget to cover your mouth so people can't see your lips moving (or not moving!).\n\nCultural issues are the problem. Some moron from the outer ring shows up in a small town in rural Mongolia and asks which one of them is the Khan. These are people who are born, live and die in the same town for generations, they haven't even *met* anyone from the next *town* since the last time they got together for some friendly head smashing, and you turn up asking for directions? That's why you need an interpreter. Not to translate what people are saying. To translate your backside out of a fatal misunderstanding.\n\nIt's always difficult when people get in trouble with authorities. There are always little signals that people in power give off, no matter the culture or era. Locals know what those signals are, but foreigners? *Time travellers*? We take for granted the little icon that floats above people's head when you see them in viewfinder mode, but suppose you were in 20th Century Australia. You are accosted by a man in blue. He takes you to a building, where everyone else is either wearing blue, or dirty rags. What is happening? Are they military? A criminal gang? A religious cult? Are they expecting you to buy something? If he calls you \"cunt\", what do you do? Call him one too?? Or strike him? Don't forget that you can't look anyone up for a hint to their identity, there are no signs of status or authority other than what I have just described, and you must preserve the prime directive by not destroying the timeline or revealing that you're from the future.\n\nLike I said, you need an interpreter to \"save your colon\". A colourful expression from 21st century Australia.\n\ntl;dr there are no dead languages, we just say this to charge more, interpreters are more for cultural misunderstandings\n\nedit: so many mistakes.",
"\"So that's it, huh?\"\n\nJoseph smiled and held up his left wrist. The bracelet was somewhat large, but not attractive or gaudy in any way. It had the appearance of being made out of a somewhat poor quality bronze alloy. Something that would be seen as a worthless trinket, in even ancient times. The power and circuitry it contained, however, was priceless beyond measure.\n\n\"Yeah, latest model. Suckers heavier than it looks, but it's a lot better than that damn backpack, you know? I had them make it look like an old piece of jewelry, so some primitive won't mug me for it.\"\n\nThere's that word again. Joseph apparently considered anyone living prior to the 22nd century a \"primitive\", and it was beginning to annoy Kevin. It wasn't just the derogatory nature of it; it's the fact that it wasn't true. Kevin had spent his life studying history, the languages and cultures of hundreds of peoples long since gone from the Earth, and his one takeaway from it all was that people were just people. Sure, someone from Ancient Rome wasn't going to quite understand if you tried to explain what a computer or singularity power source was, because they had never been exposed to such things. But that didn't make them stupid, just ignorant; a distinction that Joseph seemed to have trouble making. \n\nStill, interpreters were a dime a dozen these days, there were not many who could afford a time travel device, but plenty of people who could learn French or Ancient English and tag along for the ride. Kevin wasn't going to waste this opportunity. \"Yeah, that's smart. Don't want that device falling into the wrong hands, right?\"\n\nJoseph reached for the bracelet instinctively. \"Definitely not. This little device is going to ensure that I...\" Joseph trailed off, seeming to realize that he was rambling. \"Anyway, that's the village of the Chief...Tatala...mala?\"\n\n\"Talatama, is his name.\" Kevin corrected. There were on the Pacific Island of Tonga, circa 1159 AD. Tonga was first settled somewhere around 1200 BC by people from Fiji or perhaps Samoa. For most of it's history it was never seen as strategically important or resource rich, and was generally left alone by the rest of the world. This all changed 2159, however, when a underwater mining cartel discovered a massive deposit of neodymium a kilometer west and 5 kilometers down from the island. The process for making neodymium-aluminum crystals - the basis of all quantum power sources - had just been discovered, and overnight Tonga was the most important, and valuable, place on Earth. \n\nQuite what Joseph was hoping to achieve with this visit, Kevin wasn't sure. The Past Mineral Rights Act of 2267 had made it illegal to use time travel to lay claim or extract any natural resources in such a manner. Likewise, Joseph was prevented from establishing himself as some kind of King, or anything else that might interrupt the natural history of Tonga. Joseph had given Kevin the destination and time, but had not told him anything about his plan.\n\n\"Joseph, can I ask...what are we doing here? It's going to be a big deal to these people when we stroll into that village, and while I can make introductions and establish ourselves as friends...what do I tel them about why we're here?\"\n\n\"My friend, we're here to open a bank.\"\n\nKevin blinked. \"A bank. You want to open a bank in the year 1159, on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with...maybe 200 people living on it, that will have a barter economy well into the 19th century?\"\n\nJoseph smiled again. \"We both know why Tonga is valuable. Thanks to the government bureaucrats, I can't buy up the land from these primitives or mine the neodymium before it's discovered. But there's nothing that says I can't open up a business in the past!\"\n\n\"Well, actually there is. You're not allowed to perform any action that would have a lasting effect on a person, people, place, political structure, or economy.\"\n\n\"But that's just it, there is no economy here!\"\n\nKevin looked at Joseph, trying to figure out if this was some kind of prank. \"Barter...is an economy, Joseph.\"\n\n\"Barely! That'll be for the courts to decide, and between you and me, even if new laws are passed to prevent this, my family has some connections within the government that will ensure that I'll be grandfathered in.\"\n\n\"Joseph...Massive Dynamic spent like $9 trillion buying the Tonga neodymium mineral rights. There's no way that they'll..\"\n\n\"But I'm not messing with the mineral rights, don't you see? I'm just opening a bank! And when all the Tongan primitives suddenly get rich in 2159, where do you think they'll come and put there money? Huh? Pretty ingenious, huh?\"\n\n\"No, Joseph, it's highly, stupendously illegal. You can't found a bank and expect it to stay open for a thousand years just to have...\"\n\n\"Look, it'll be fine, trust me. We're gonna pop back here every 10 years or so to make sure everything is still running smooth, make sure my name is still on the facade. I'll throw the Chief some seashells or a goat or whatever to keep the building upright, and....it doesn't matter, it just needs to be open for business in 2159. And I told you, I've got connections. Now come on, let's go introduce ourselves to Chief Tatawhatever-his-name-is and get these primitives signed up for low interest checking and free toasters. You can explain the concept of a bank to them, right?\"\n\nKevin sat dumbfounded for a few moments. Not only was Joseph's plan highly illegal, it was patently insane. Did he expect to point at a piece of land, and the First National Bank of Joseph would magically appear a thousand years later? Was he realy planning on making 100 more jumps to make sure the Tongan people were maintaining whatever building he managed to construct? \"Uh...yeah, I think so. Let me...let me look at my translation book here to make sure I've got it down.\" Kevin pulled out a notebook from his pack and pretended to read. \n\nKevin was in a tight spot. If he refused to help, Joseph might decide to leap back to their present without him. Such a thing was unheard of, and punishable by death to anyone that would actually do such a thing, but if Joseph really was as unhinged as he seemed right now, Kevin couldn't take the risk. What if these government contacts were as real as Joseph claimed? Even if he was caught, the Time Bureau might send someone back for him...then again, translators were a dime a dozen.\n\nIf he helped Kevin go through with this, he could turn him in when they got back...but would the Bureau already know? The change would surely be noticed...would Burea agents be waiting for them? Would Kevin be charged as an accomplice?\n\nThere was a third option. Kevin had heard stories...sometimes a translator took matters into their own hands. The power to travel through time is very enticing, especially when a person knew they would never be able to afford such a luxury themselves. Every translator, bored walking a client through the same pre-volcano Pompeii or Jesus-in-Jerusalem tours, fantasized about where and when they would go. There wasn't anything stopping Kevin, the bracelet wasn't keyed to Joseph's DNA or anything like that. A quick rock to the back of the head, slap on the bracelet, and off he'd go. The only problem was, he could never go back to his main timeline. The Bureau wouldn't have any way of tracking him, couldn't force him back. But if Kevin ever returned to his main time, he'd be instantly jailed and eventually put to death.\n\nThe power cell in the bracelet would last a while, maybe for a few hundred jumps. But eventually, Kevin would have to pick a time and place, and there he'd be, for the rest of his life. There weren't any official accounts of this happening, of course: The Bureau kept a tight lid on any incidents that might have occurred. But sometimes, an odd book would be discovered, written by an unknown author in an unknown year, telling a very interesting tale...\n\n\"Well? Can we do this or what? If you don't think you can, we can go back, and I can get another translator who...\" Joseph began to fiddle with his bracelet again.\n\n\"NO! No, I've got it. Sorry, just...it's a little bit of a complex idea for...these primitives, you know?\"\n\nJoseph smiled. \"Yeah, I gotcha, no problem. Listen, I know this makes you nervous, but...you'll be taken care of, OK? I don't want you to think that I'm gonna pop back home a multi-trillionaire and you gotta go back to schlepping school kids to 1776, OK?\" Joseph smiled even wider. \"I'll take care of you.\"\n\nYeah I bet you will, Kevin thought. \"Sure, OK. I..I appreciate that, Joseph. Now, look, by all accounts this Talatama was a reasonable man, but we'll still need be cautious. Like I said, the explanation will take a while, so until I tell you different, just nod and smile, OK?\"\n\n\"Can do, sport.\"",
"\"Jacobs, strap yourself in.\"\n\n\"Yes sir, let me just stow away my stuff.\"\n\n\"Enough with the formalities, call me Mike. Come on rookie, say it. M. I. K. E.\"\n\n\"Yes sir, I mean, Yes, Mister Mike.\"\n\n\"Hagh... Just strap yourself in, Jacobs.\"\n\nJacobs strapped himself into his seat, and nervously gripped onto his armrest. This was his first expedition to the past. He and his companion were to integrate themselves with history during this entire trip. His job? Interpreter. He wasn't very strong, but he had a use. He's been trained, rather, he's been drilled with multiple languages since he took up this job. What's the point of time travel if you can't understand a word of the language during that time?\n\nJacobs looked over at his companion. Mike. The man was a vet. 11 different trips, 39 different civilizations found. His job? Simply explore, and follow the objectives as they're given to him by the higher-ups. He's trained in all types of combat. Hand-to-hand, Polearms, Swords, Maces, Bows, Guns, and so on. Although they weren't allowed to bring weapons, in fear of altering the timeline with future technology, that probably wouldn't stop Mike, though. The man was practically invincible. Their roles were pretty much simple. Jacobs did the talking, Mike did the fighting. Simple.\n\nJacobs gripped his straps in preparation for the launch. The two of them sit in anticipated silence. Jacobs gave a quick glance at the launch timer, and let it count down.\n\n*5*\n\n*4*\n\n*3*\n\nJacobs closed his eyes.\n\n*2*\n\nHe relaxed himself, dropping his arms down to the armrest.\n\n*1*\n\n... *Launching. Destination: XXXX BC.* \n\nThe shuttle shook, and the very space seemed to twist and distort. Jacobs tried to focus on his partner, who was... snoring away. The title of veteran wasn't for show, it seemed. Jacobs stiffened, and waited out the ruptures.\n\nWhat seemed like forever, was actually only a second. The shuttle appeared above a forest, hovering over the air. Mike yawned, unstrapped himself from his seat, and took a look out the window. Then he turned to face Jacobs.\n\n\"Mornin rookie.\"\n\n\"Good morning, sir.\"\n\n\"For the love of...\" Mike marched over to the still-strapped Jacobs. With a stern look, he leaned into breathing distance of Jacob's face. \"Jacobs Irs, you are hereby ordered to address me as Mike, for the entire duration of our partnership.\"\n\n\"Yes si-\" Mike flicked Jacob's forehead. \"...Got it, Mike.\"\n\nMike straightened up, and his frown turned into a smile. He looked at the console screen, currently showing the words in big, bright letters: *XXXX BC*.\n\nMike let out a whistle, \"Whew, we're a loooong way from home, both literally and figuratively.\" Mike gives a quick glance over to Jacobs. \"Hey, rookie, do me a favor while I pull up our objective logs, and check the area around us for hostile lifeforms. Don't want to get attacked by some prehistorical creature now, do we?\"\n\nJacobs unstrapped himself, and made his way to the console besides Mike. \n\n\"Hmm. So our objective is to find some natives nearby to guide us to a temple containing a deadly toxin that can wipe out an entire civilization,\" Mike frowned. \"But it doesn't say where to find these natives. How's the area scan, Jacobs?\"\n\n\"Um. No hostile animals but... I think I've found your natives.\" Jacobs pulls up a camera-view from underneath the shuttle, and on the console screen shows some humans, dressed in various animal furs, gazing up at the shuttle in a mixture of bewilderment and curiosity.\n\nMike looks at the screen, then at Jacobs. \n\n\"Um. I think we just f**ked up history.\" Mike said, scratching his head.\n\n\"Hmm... Wait. Maybe we can convince them that we're gods.\" \n\n\"Actually, that's not a bad idea rookie! Let's make an entrance, shall we? I'll come with you, in case they turn out to be... *too* friendly.\"\n\nThe bottom of the shuttle opens, showing a hovering piece of glass. Light flows vertically from the hole of the shuttle, reaching the bottom. The two time travelers step onto the glass, and it carries them down. Once they reach the bottom, the natives stare on and on at the two. Nobody moves, nobody says anything. Mike motions Jacobs over to do something.\n\nJacobs nods. He takes a step forward in front of Mike, and prepares himself.\n\n\"Who is your leader?\" \n\nThe natives tense up at his voice, and the natives slowly back away from Jacobs. One native, dressed in a more ceremonial manner, steps up in front of the rest of the natives.\n\n\"?morf uoy era ebirt tahw dna uoy era ohW\" He demands, in a foreign language.\n\nThe language clicks with Jacobs, and he responds in turn.\n\n\".ecnadiug rof elpoep ruoy dna uoy ot emoc evah ew oS .elpmet siht dnif ot erehw wonk ton od ew ,revewoH .esaesid elbirret a sesuoh hcihw elpmet a dnif ot ereh era eW .sdog era eW\"\n\nA look of recognition clicks with the tribe leader. He beckons a few tribe members to him, and they discuss something. Mike clears his throat to get Jacob's attention. Jacobs nods, and fiddles around with something in his pack. \n\n\"So, mind to clue me in on this?\" Mike asks.\n\nJacobs rummages through his pack for a little earpiece, and hands it over to Mike. \"I'll need to adjust this as we go along, but you'll be able to understand them with this. You'll be able to hear and process what I understand.\"\n\nMike takes the device from Jacobs, and fits it on his ear. \"Now we're talkin.\"\n\nFinished with their discussion, the tribe leader and his selected men come over to the time travelers. The tribe leader points over to Mike, who raises an eyebrow at the gesture.\n\n\"We want to see how a \"god\" fights. Win, and we will obey you. These three are the best in my tribe. Lose, and we shall feed you to the dogs.\"\n\n\"Wait, wait, you want to fight? I can't-\" Jacobs starts, but Mike holds a hand out in front of him.\n\n\"I got the gist of it, Jacobs. They want to see a \"god\" fight? I'll take em all on at once. Oh, uh, lend me the shuttle controls for a moment. Spice it up for me, will you? Tell em,\" Mike takes the shuttle controls from Jacobs, and presses a button marked \"Lights\". \"I'll kick their asses to the curb.\" \n\nThe shuttle reveals two searchlights, and they activate, sending light down between the three tribesmen and Mike. Mike steps up onto the makeshift arena of light, and beckons the fighters over. He cricks his head left and right, then assumes a fighting stance.\n\n\"So? Let's get this mission over with. Enjoy the show, Jacobs.\"\n \n(I feel like I got off-prompt here, whoops. Excuse the contradictions as you find them.)",
"And I stood in front of a mysterious black box, a man gesturing wildly to the enraptured crowd. Oohing at every confounding proclamation. Just as in the dark as anyone, a profoundly important invention within reach. Coming entirely out of nowhere, yet the man screams with delight, “you could have seen it if only you were looking!” Though that’s just obvious bullshit. A man trying to convince the world he was just a humble engineer, simply a con to elicit an onslaught of adulation. Like a teenage girl telling all her friends how fat she is, as she tries on a size 2 dress.\n\n\nIt was a moment that separated the crowd into two distinct groups, those caught up in the whirlwind and those understanding the true nature of the revelation. That the advent of time travel would be one of those once a century innovation that leaves the world without precedent. Especially in a time where we haven’t even figured out how to send a man past the Moon. A new Wild-West, no regulation, not even a real understanding of the science behind it. Much less the economic or hell even religious implications. \n\n\nThe consumer model wouldn’t really be released for a few years, economies of scale take long enough as it was, much less factories capable of producing never before seen technology. That’s not to even get started on the regulatory issues. In any case, there were still a few models. Ten exactly, to provide a few teams the opportunity to test for any issues. And well to see how fucking crazy it really is. And I know, you’re probably thinking, my god they probably had millions of people signing up for the initial tests. And well they did, well sort of.\n\n\nIt’s like going in one of those “Swim with the Sharks” cages. The prospect is exciting to a certain subset of people. A ton of people sign up and a majority of those chicken out before even getting on the boat. Even more make it to the boat but not in the water. And even of those few brave people who make it into the cage, no one would decide it was a good idea to swing open the door and try and wrestle a Great White. That was essentially what was being asked. To go into this completely unknown technology, venture to what was a best approximation of a ceryain time period. To step outside, wander around and hope that the box can bring you home in one piece.\n\n\nThe teams were made up of the usual suspects. A few engineers, scientists, subject matter historians, linguists. Maybe the few wealthy proprietors who they wanted to heavily invest. Ten teams total. Heavily vetted, highly qualified. The first four backed out before even stepping into the machine. The next five successfully traveled but never stepped out of the machine. For various reasons I suspect. Fear notably, but you know the whole Butterfly Flaps It’s wings, I’m my own grandpa type issues. They neglected to screen for the most important trait, the ability to really just not give a shit. About your own life, the lives of others. Really an apathy towards the larger moral and scientific questions. \n\n\nSo a few years ago, I think it was Nelson Mandela’s funeral. They were in this huge stadium in South Africa holding a memorial. In the background was a man using sign-language so the event would be all inclusive, especially for the television audience. And then a few days later it came out that the guy was a huge fraud. Had been making it up the whole time. Just shaking his arms around, not really saying anything. And to the deaf audience this was immediately apparent. Like a translator saying nonsensical gibberish assuming you’ll get the jist. But to the rest of us it seemed relatively plausible. No background whatsoever with sign language, the general idea seemed to be there, the nuances of it completely lost.\n\n\nAnyways, ancient linguistics is essentially the same thing. The amount of linguists in the world is small, the amount that have expertise in ancient and forgotten languages is even smaller. So all you really need is the basic structural understanding of language to fake your way through it. So long as you aren’t spewing bullshit to a televised audience, capable of making it up as you go along. The key is confidence. That’s the thing, the sign language guy at the funeral had probably worked up the ranks. Had been at smaller events, the audience not large enough to really notice. But with confidence he got through. That is well, until the audience was large enough to call him out on it.\n\n\nAs you’d imagine, there was no technology to transmit what happened in the past to the present day. So bullshitting ancient linguistics was easy if you put your mind to it. And well, once your comrades figured you out, it’d be too late, already in the past. So that’s what I did. Faked up some college degrees, paid a few friends who vouched for me. Was pretty easy really. And I still hold to this day that what I did was completely justified. I was the person they needed all along. Just batshit crazy enough to actually go through with it. So I did, the tenth and final team stepped into the machine, went back in time. And as the crew began to debate the implications of taking that first step outside, I had already run a hundred meters in no predetermined direction.\n\n[Part 2 below]\n\n_________________\n\n^^If ^^you ^^want ^^to ^^read ^^more ^^stories ^^I ^^have ^^a ^^bunch ^^at ^^/r/SquidCritic"
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Just something that I imagine everytime I wake up in the middle of the night and pass by a window, curious to see what others would do!
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[WP] You wake up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water. From the hallway window you notice all of your neighbors standing outside your house watching you.
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" Man, I have really got to stop drinking so much before bed. Stumbling half drunk down my hall way I try to make my feet take me to \n\t\tthe kitchen. Barely getting there with out a scratch I wrench open the fridge and chug the first liquid in sight. Eww, barbeque sauce \n\t\tis definitely not a good thirst quencher. With my senses a bit more alive I realize that if this endeavour is going to be succesful then\n\t\tI need a bottle to put the wanted liquids in. Leaving open my fridge, for the light, I stumble once again while making my way to the \n\t\tcabinent. That is when I saw them. All staring in with eyes the size of saucers. What the hell are these people doing rubbing their snotty\n\t\tnoses all over my windows! There better be a good reason for this, else I'm getting a bat. Strolling over to the window in what I thought\n\t\tto be a menacing manner, I start pounding on the glass. Asking if my stripping might make their show a bit better. Hmm, that's odd. They\n\t\tdon't seem to take a notice of me. I am here, looking this fellow dead in the eyes and it is as if he is staring right through me. What the\n\t\tHELL! As if having your whole neighborhood looking through your windows wasn't creepy enough, now they've gotta up the ante with the whole \n\t\tundead act. I turn around, trying to see the focus point of their gaze, what hits me is damn near ineffable. Smacking my inner peace like a\n\t\tfreight train, the image swimming before my eyes is me. I am laying in a pool of blood, a gun in my hand, and a note next to my bloodless \n\t\tbody. Strolling over, this time in a scared, hesistant manner, I look down into the lifeless eyes that once belonged to me. Reading a look\n\t\tof release my vision shifts to the note. Only two words were printed; \"You're Welcome\". \n",
"You notice they are all not themselves. You drop your water and the translucent liquid scatters across the marble floor. Dashing to the kitchen door that leads to your backyard, you lock it as fast as you can. All your neighbors mouths are moving but their voices inaudible. They seem to be in a trance of some sort. Walking aimlessly they trudge through the flower garden raking up soil and fresh dirt as they go. Getting closer to your house you begin to panick, looking back and forth for an answer that isnt there. \"Why are they acting so wierd?\" You say to yourself. The voices become apparent. They are all speaking in rythm to form one loud chant. It sounds like an african war cry that you have read about in your history textbooks. \"Dad?!\" You yell. No reply. Closing the curtains as if it would do something, you run to your fathers room. There is a tall silhouette in the room. Standing still, no movement. You flick the light switch to your right and look over. Your father is standing there with a blank stare. Eyes fixated on you. You flinch when you hear breaking glass and twisting of doorknobs down the long hallway that seperates you from the entranced mob. The voices become louder and you notice your fathers mouth moving and a voice you have never heard comes from him. Slow bulky footsteps fill the corridor and the voices infiltrate your mind. You grip your head and fall to the floor as the voices are winning the wrestling match against your sanity and your mind. You black out. For what seems like forever you wake up. Unable to control your body or voice you slowly walk down the hallyway. The only thing you have control over is your thoughts. You see your father next to you, both of you are moving like a zombie. Joining the crowd of your neighbors and friends obeying whatever dead language is echoing through your throat. The voices amplify.",
"\"What the hell\" I said as I started to sit up in my bed. For the past few weeks I've been having the same dream again, well more of a feeling than a dream. It felt like I was being watched while I slept, like people were standing over my bed. I picked up my phone off the night stand, the illuminated screen said 3:00 am. \n\nThis past week was the worst sleep I've gotten, my eyes felt heavy, my body was weak, and my throat was sore. \"I need some water\" I mumbled to myself. I opened up my bedroom door and went downstairs, the house always has an eerie stillness to it at this time of night. I turned the corner and walked into the kitchen, opened a cabinet and grabbed a glass. \n\nThe house had an open layout. The kitchen opened to the family room and the LEDs off the various electronics flickered in the dark, giving just enough light to make out where the furniture was at. This part of the house over looked the backyard which was currently lite slightly by moonlight.\n\n I peered out the window that was over the sink to see if it was a clear enough night to see any stars, but couldn't see to well due to the clouds rolling in. As I looked back down into the backyard there was a figure standing in the middle of my lawn. In shear panic, I dropped the glass and it shattered in the sink. \"What the fuck\" I exclaimed. I went to grab a flashlight from one of the drawers and by the time I got to the deck doors the figure was gone.\n\nI turned the lights on in the family room to show that someone was up and around downstairs to discourage who ever it was from trying to sneak around the house. I went over to another drawer, this one locked and grabbed the key from under one of the books on the book shelf. The drawer held one of the many pistols hidden throughout the house.\n\nWith the pistol in one hand and flashlight in the other I decided to sit down on the couch, thinking that if anyone would try anything I'd be ready. \"I wonder if I should warn anyone else\" I thought to myself. I live in a cul-de-sac that is backed up to a heavily wooded area, my house is the first house on the left out of 4 other houses. \n\nThe Berger's have the next house after mine, Jim and his wife Karen have two daughters who are still in elementary school. The house after theirs is the Parrish's, they are an older married couple who enjoy Sunday drives and walking around the neighborhood saying hello to everyone. The last house is the was recently rented out to a younger couple who I haven't met yet. They seem like a very active couple who is always on the run. \n\nFrom the front of my house I have a clear line of sight of the Bergers, I decided to run upstairs and grab my phone to send a text message to Jim, warning him that someone might be trying to break into houses. As i was walking over to the stair case I looked out the bay window to see if the Berger's had any lights on. That's when I saw them. \n\nThe whole Cul-de-sac was standing under a street light. The Berger's children in front of there parents, The Parrish's, and the Young couple. They all stood there looking at my house. All the families stood side by side, looking like they were waiting, waiting for me. I opened up the front door and exclaimed \"What the hell is everyone doing outside?!\". They didn't say a word and were more focus on me than the house. I started walking towards them to ask them what was going on. The closer I got, the better I could see there faces.\n\n\"They're all smiling\" I said to myself. Their smiles were almost as wide as there faces, the kind of smile you would see on a clown mask and their eyes, open, wide open and almost lifeless looking. I stopped dead in my tracks and started to turn around to lock myself in the house. That's when I noticed the shadowy figure from before stand behind them. The figure had no features, no face, nothing to identify it. They all started following me back towards the house.",
"David rose with a grumble as he groped his way towards the kitchen for a glass of water. He drained it there - the horrible scratching in his throat lessened slightly. The kitchen had a view of the front of his house. \n\nHe almost dropped the glass as he caught sight of the shadowy figures standing, in perfectly still rows, outside his gate. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, hoping to wake up from a nightmare. But no, there they were. Just staring at him. His worst nightmare since he was a child - waking up to find people watching him. A eerie, howling wind that whined as it whipped around the corners of his house only added to the trembling fear he suddenly felt.\n\nHis neighbours had been acting strange ever since he had moved into Silverpeak - a town with a strangely low population for its location. Peaceful, he'd thought. Somewhere to heal after a rough life in the city. \n\nBut it was *strange*, there was no doubt about it. Alice, a young woman with a kind face and frightened-looking eyes, had told him he should leave as soon as possible, if he could. And there were other, troubling little incidents. This, however, was the weirdest of all. Did the neighbours find it fun to spy on people as they slept? \n\nHis thirst suddenly flared up again, and he drank another glass of water. \nTo his horror, his neighbours' bodies began elongating into nightmarish shapes. Their blank faces grew red, demon-like eyes, their faces twisted into haggard, wasted husks. One little girl began clambering over the gate.\n\n\"No, oh no,\" he moaned, sinking to the ground and covering his eyes as he trembled in fear.\n\n-----\n\nOn the other side of town, Alice turned restlessly in her sleep. She reached over on her bedside table and drank some water from the canisters supplied to the town the previous week. Before *he* had tampered with the water supply when he'd heard someone new was in town. He'd done something horrible to the water supply, he'd warned them: drinking it brought your worst nightmare to life.\n\n\"Do you think he'll be ok?\" she asked her husband, Mark, in a low voice. \n\nMark, like most of the town, hadn't been able to fall sleep either tonight. They all knew David wouldn't be ok at all. Just like the last few newcomers in town hadn't been ok - Hilary, Clinton, Sam - everyone who'd arrived since Alistair himself had arrived to latch onto this town.\n\n\"Stupid question,\" he muttered. \"No. He'll die bloody. But what are we supposed to do, Alice? We can't leave, you know that. But if we stay out of his way and don't interfere, he won't harm us. You shouldn't have said *anything* to that David guy. Alistair might have killed you.\"\n\n\"It's crazy. Crazy,\" she said, sitting upright and resting her head in her hands. \"Trapped in a town by a goddamn *dark wizard*, Mark. Can you hear how crazy that sounds? A fucking wizard. Remember when he arrived in town, announced himself, and everyone laughed at him?\"\n\n\"Until he turned Mayor Whitlock into a pile of bloody goo. That wasn't so funny,\" Mark said, staring at the ceiling as he remembered.\n\nAlice nodded, and silence filled the bedroom for a while.\n\n\"Sometimes I wonder if we're both sharing a psychological breakdown, or something,\" she finally whispered. \"It would make a hell of a lot more sense.\"\n\n\"Yes, along with the whole town, then,\" he sighed, and closed his eyes. \"Try to go to sleep, honey. David will be gone tomorrow, and we can try to forget about this whole thing.\"\n\nBut Alice lay awake long after Mark had finally fallen asleep, thinking of David's kind face, his eagerness to settle down in a nice, sleepy little village. He didn't deserve this. None of them did. \n\nShe clambered quietly out of bed, reaching for her shoes and a torch. And sneaked to the garage, where she had hidden the weapon she'd found abandoned in the town dump: a large, nasty-looking axe. Enough was enough. Alistair still looked mostly human, after all, and could probably be killed - if only she could surprise him. And he wouldn't expect anyone to be stupid enough to sneak up on him tonight. \n\nShe knew exactly where'd he'd be.\n\n-----\n\nAlistair waved his hands to direct the apparitions in front of David's gate, making them all crawl over the gate towards the front door. \n\nHe was enjoying himself. Dark night, howling wind, a trapped and terrified human. He giggled to himself. During his three hundred years on Earth, travelling from village to village, faking his death here and there when necessary, toying with humans had yet to get old. Things were going swimmingly tonight. The spell he had planned called for something very specific, after all: a corpse that had died of fright. \n\nHe'd better get creative with this one. And make an extra large mess, to keep the townies in line. His deal with them had been very simple when he'd arrived in town a year ago: stay out of my way when I go after the newcomers, and I won't harm you, except to keep you locked here in town. But some of them couldn't even do that. That bitch Alice, for example. \n\nHe'd have to do something about her, soon. \n\nIn his absorption, Alistair ignored the sudden whistling sound behind his head. Probably the wind. ",
"Groggily waking up, I groaned and reached for my phone. The time read 3:43. Today was the big day.\n\nI'd been sleeping like shit recently, never more than a couple hours. The stress was slowly killing me. Unable to go back to sleep I thought maybe a glass of water would help. That would turn out to be a mistake.\n\nHeading down the hallway I wanted to not look, wanted to just get some water and go back to bed, but I couldn't help myself, and parted the curtains.\n\nAcross the street, standing within the orange cone of light from the street lamp, stood Barb, Cynthia, and Carl. I didn't see Steve or Louise but they were around somewhere. They were always around somewhere.\n\nI quickly closed the curtain and hoped they didn't see me. I was pretty sure they saw me.\n\n \n\nThe tradition was very old from what I understood, going back to the founding of the town. It originally had something to do with prosperity for the coming year, some sort of pagan harvest deal.\n\nThese days it was more a ceremonial thing but it was still taken pretty seriously.\n\nEvery year, as the leaves start turning orange, one person is picked at random from the community. This year it was me, and there was no getting out of it.\n\nFor the past week, I've been watched constantly. People trying to get out of the responsibility is very common and so neighbors keeping a vigil is a tradition itself.\n\nIf I tried to make a run for it they'd just bring me back. I'd seen it happen.\n\n \n\nThe water from the tap in the bathroom was cool on my dry tongue and I plodded back to bed. I hoped to get at least a couple more hours of sleep before I had to be up but I knew that probably wouldn't happen.\n\nToday was the big day.",
"The most unnerving thing, I think, was that Tom Jennings had a large bowl of popcorn at his hip and a cooler full of beer slung across his back, like some sort of fat, Sunday afternoon Rambo.\n\nIt seemed a dream at first. People watch me in my dreams - that's a common theme. Friends, lovers, and strangers all. Active and inactive. Rearranged faces and personalities. It's a crowded scene, to be sure. But it makes sense there, because I'm doing interesting things. Wild, violent, oft-times inappropriate things. Here I was simply drinking a glass of water in my jocks. Hardly seemed worth the effort.\n\nThey all looked a bit shifty as I moved to the window. I counted 20 at least, though a few at the back had already shuffled off into the darkness.\n\nGlass in hand, I opened the front door and stepped outside.\n\n\"Eh?\" I said, shoulders bobbing in inquisition.\n\nLaura Golden smiled weakly. \"So, you're awake then?\"\n\n\"Appears so,\" I said, taking another sip. \n\n\"For good?\" said Tammy Nguyen.\n\n\"Hard to say,\" I replied. \"You all...waiting for something?\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" said Laura. \"Think maybe you ought to go back to sleep?\"\n\nI shrugged. \"I'm not against it. What about you all?\"\n\n\"Go to sleep!\" shouted Tom Jennings through a mouthful of popcorn.\n\n\"Now what's that to you?\" I asked, stepping down off my small porch. \"And why're you all out here anyway? Peeping in my house?\"\n\nTammy shook her head. \"No reason in particular.\"\n\n\"Walk,\" said Tom through another heaping handful of popcorn.\n\n\"You're all out on a walk together?\" I said. \"At 3am? On my lawn?\"\n\n\"Good stars tonight,\" said Tammy hopefully. \"Good for walking.\"\n\nI sighed. Something seemed not quite right, though I wasn't sure what. \"I don't suppose I'll go back to sleep tonight. Might read. Or watch the stars with you all.\"\n\n\"No!\" said Tammy. \"You wouldn't like them. Not your kind of stars.\"\n\nI frowned. \"You know what kind of stars I like?\"\n\nTammy nodded. \"Not these ones.\"\n\nLaura stepped forward. \"I think we need to be honest.\"\n\n\"Shut up, Laura,\" said Tom. But Laura ignored him and pressed forward.\n\n\"You...well, you're really rather *animated* when you sleep. You know that?\"\n\nI shook my head. \"I don't know much about what I'm like when I'm asleep.\"\n\nLaura smiled, a bit brighter this time. \"Well, you know, some people talk in their sleep, right? And some people walk in their sleep. But you...it's kinda like you do a one-man show in your sleep.\"\n\n\"Say again?\" I grunted.\n\n\"It's great!\" shouted someone from the back of the crowd. \"Go back to sleep!\" shouted someone else.\n\n\"You, uh, act it out,\" said Laura. \"Your dreams, I think. You act them out and you narrate them and you just...wow, they're just so much *fun*.\"\n\n\"We called the cops on you the first time,\" said Tammy. \"We thought you were killing someone.\"\n\n\"Yeah, but then the cop just hung out and watched the whole thing,\" said Laura. \"Said it was better than a movie. And ever since, we've...\"\n\nI blinked and cleared my throat. \"You've been watching me sleep every night?\"\n\n\"Well, not *tonight*,\" said Tom bitterly.\n\n\"We'll stop,\" said Laura. \"If you want, we'll stop. Won't we?\"\n\nReluctantly, the various heads in the crowd nodded their assent. \n\n\"It's just...they're great stories,\" said Laura. \n\nThey all muttered their agreement and then began to leave, slowly and more than a little awkwardly.\n\n\"Wait,\" I said, draining the last of my water. \"Look, I don't really much care what you all get up to at night. I just know I'm tired.\" I winked at Laura. \"I think I'm gonna go back to sleep.\"\n\nThey cheered and huddled together outside the window, expectant and alive, like little kids at the movie theater. I closed the front door and dropped the empty glass in the sink, before sinking back into bed.\n\n*Maybe*, I thought, *this is a dream, too.* And maybe it was. But I hoped it wasn't. After all, what's the good of a brand new story if you can't share it with anyone else? "
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[WP] Aliens overtake the Earth overnight, laying waste to all defenses. Before you can flee, a troop of them break into your house, pointing their guns at you and your golden retriever. The aliens stare at the two of you and freeze, then the leader says, “Master, we have done what you commanded.”
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"Katolneph bent its six tentacle-like legs in order to descend towards the ground. Six fist-sized eyes were swiveling around in their sockets, embedded in the hairy car sized body that smelt like an old basement. The chrome weapons and gadgets hanging from the alien's body glistened in the moonlight, while civilization was being torn to shreds in the distance.\n\nTim was looking out of his living room window. A bright flash of light illuminated the yard of his suburban home, as a green lightning slammed down on the smoking skyline in the horizon. A loud booming noise followed shortly after, rattling every window in the house.\n\nThe wall behind Tim crumbled down, its noise masked by the booming sound of artificial lightning. Katolneph was hunched over behind him, its glowing eyes swiveling back and forth, observing a large German Shepherd. \n\n\"Master?\" A slow unearthly voice spoke at the barking dog.\n\n\"Master. Your commands have been fulfilled.\"\n\nThe dog wouldn't stop barking and growling.\n\n\"Master. I do not understand.\"\n\nTim turned around, with a disgruntled look on his face. His ears were still ringing from all the noise, he hadn't noticed Katolneph's presence until then.\n\n\"Larry! Silent!\" He shouted. \"You're talking to a dog, idiot.\"\n\nThe outlandish creature swiveled its eyes towards Tim now, making a gesture equivalent to surprise. \n\n\"Mammals all look the same.\" The creature said, and prepared to crush Tim with its legs.\n\nTim sighed and waved his hand slightly, which much to its surprise caused Katolneph to skittishly rush back outside.\n\n\"You disappoint me, soldier.\" Tim picked up a weapon dropped by the alien, and fired it at one of its legs.\n\n\"Now. Take me to my ship.\" He demanded of the now obedient alien. \"Come on then, Larry!\" he then shouted in a friendly voice to the dog who ran to him, wagging his tail.\n\n\"Of course, master.\" the alien said, while limping towards the street.\n\n",
"You look down at the dog, who wags his tail obliviously. \n\n*Then you remember.*\n\n\"Oh god what have I done...\" you whisper.\n\nIt was a little science kit some aunt or great-cousin bought.\n\nYou made the shortwave transmitter. It was hard, but you finally got it squelching and beeping.\n\nAnd you spoke those words into the mic.\n\n\"Aliens!\", you called out into the dark.\n\n\"Come take over the Earth, and make me the new leader of the planet!\"\n\nYou had chuckled then, a silly joke.\n\nHow many people have you committed to death?",
"I looked at my dog, and I looked at the aliens. \n\nWait. No. When did I get a dog? I'm a cat person. \n\nWhose dog is it? My confusion lasts only a moment before the golden retriever growls a bit, then, in the plainest English replies, \"Thank you. Well done. Your payment should be in order.\"\n\nThe lead alien--and there's no doubt these were aliens, what with the canine heads, the long tentacles springing from their backs, the prehensile tails, and the thick coating of fur--wrapped all of it's tentacles around it's body and bowed. A shockingly *human* bow. The dog just sat there.\n\n\"We received the notification of intent-to-transfer just a single cycle past. Your generosity is appreciated. Shall we exterminate this human for you?\"\n\n\"No, of course not. I need someone to be my liaison to the other truly sentient species here. They are a bit newer to the planet, but the felines will not be willing to share the planet without some appeasement.\"\n\n\"Of course, master. We have subjugated all the humans. Where would you like us to put the survivors?\"\n\nI was growing nervous by now, but realized that there was no way to fight. These octo-jackals--that's the name that would eventually stick--were clearly ready to kill me without any hesitation. And I could tell they would be able to.\"\n\nLassie--that's what I decided to call him--cocked his head and gave the octo-jackals one ugly stare. \"Why are there survivors?\"\n\nThe lead octo-jackal shrugged--again a fairly human gesture, except that all eight of the tentacles sprouting from his back shrugged too--and said, \"A great number chose to surrender rather than fight.\"\n\nLassie seemed disappointed by this, but only said, \"Fine. Let them have South America. And get my cousins out of there.\"\n\n\"Yes Master.\" They bowed again, and then bowed out.\n\nLassie turned to me and gave me that same ugly stare. \"Epharian, I'm sorry about this mess, I suppose. Look, if it's any consolation, you'll have top pick of your bitches, and the felines are probably going to take centuries to negotiate an actual treaty.\"\n\n\"Do I get a say in any of this?\"\n\nLassie made a strange wheezing sound, which I suppose was laughter. \"No more choice than most dogs were given about which humans they have to deal with.\"\n\n\"So not really.\"\n\n\"Not as such, no.\" \n\nI sighed inwardly. \"You know we could be useful to you? We have bacon, and ...\"\n\nLassie huffed. \"Do you know how bad that is for us? No, we'll be going back to our more natural diet.\"\n\n\"Well I do have a question before you ship me off as your ambassador to the cats.\"\n\n\"Sure, fine, I can be generous--after all, I just took over the world.\"\n\n\"If those are your alien servants, what the hell happened to the ones ***I*** hired?\"\n\nLassie opened his mouth to respond, when the sky grew ominously dark, and the sudden sound of distant explosions rumbled deeply. With a satisfied grin, I looked at Lassie and said, perhaps a bit maliciously, \"Whose a good boy, *now*, dammit?\""
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[wp] In a. world obsessed with recycling and environmental impact throwing things away is forbidden unless it's completely worn out and irreparable. You just inherited your Grandads house. He was an extreme hoarder.
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"\"Mornin' Bill.\" He nodded as I sipped my cup of coffee.\n\n\"Mornin' Frank.\" I smiled at him as I dug into my pocket for my cigarettes. \"What've ya got for me today?\"\n\n\"The City council held a special session last night. They've updated the community rules on yard sales.\"\n\nI took another sip. \"Oh? Do tell.\"\n\nFrank nodded. \"Yard sales are now to be confined to weekend days only, unless a special permit is granted. Weekend days being defined as Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and on special holiday occasions sometimes Mondays. Yard sales are also prohibited from exceeding 4 days, again unless a special permit is granted. This new rule will take effect in 15 days on the first of next month.\"\n\nI nodded again. \"Well, I'll just have to do something about that, won't I?\"\n\nFrank grumbled. \"Yeah, Bill, I guess you will. I know this is a harsh problem to get stuck with, but setting all this crap out here makes for an eye sore, ya know?\" He spread his right arm to encompass all the junk laid out around the lawn.\n\n\"Better that I should have it all taking up space inside that house? I've said before, that if the city would be willing to make a special exception to The Stein Initiative, it would solve this whole thing.\"\n\nHe snorted and glared \"And I've said I don't disagree with you, but I don't make the rules. Anyway, here's the official notification, so get on top of this.\"\n\nTaking the envelope, I nodded. \"Will do buddy. I'll have this sorted as soon as I can.\"\n\n*********************\n\nA week and half later when Frank came by to check on my progress, the look on his face was more glarey than ever. \"Bill, not only have you not done anything to clear this crap out, but I'm pretty there's stuff out here that wasn't here the last time I came 'round.\"\n\nTrying my best not to smile, I handed him an envelope \"Actually, I have done something. As of last week, this is no longer a yard sale, it's a performing art installation known as 'The Long Offering'. The state art council has approved it.\"\n\nBill pulled out the letter and read over it. \"This... is an approval of an application started two months ago... which means... hmm.\"\n\nHe glared at me again with renewed ire. \"You are a clever bastard. Really sharp witted. Just be careful that you don't get so sharp you cut yourself.\" He handed me the letter back and walked back over to his car."
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[WP] Jimmy down the street says that his dad knows everything. Jimmy is right.
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"\"Jimmy's da knows how many people are in the world,\" Stevie said, his mouth full of peas. \"And how many of them are men and how many of them are women.\"\n\n\"That's nice son,\" Stevie's dad said. He poked at his food with his fork, annoyed that he finished the sausages first. \"What else does Jimmy's da know?\"\n\nStevie paused in thought and to swallow his food. His little brow was furrowed \"Quite a lot,\" he said. \n\n\"Aye right. And I bet anything that anything he doesn't know then his brother will.\" Stevie's da twirled his fork in the air, as if trying to wind up the conversation. \"I've heard it before son. It's a good trick.\"\n\n\"I don't think that's it da. I don't think he really has a brother.\"\n\n\"Weesht it. Finish your dinner.\" He looked over at his son's plate. \"Or I'll take those sausages from you.\"\n\nThey continued on in silence. Stevie's dad watched the boy finish his meal with a distant, fatherly affection. The kid was a good lad, but he could be a bit naïve at times. \"You need any help with your homework tonight? Or are you just going to ask Jimmy's da?\" he asked, poking fun.\n\n\"He really does know a lot!\" Stevie said. \"He knows how far it is to Mars, and he knows how many boats were sunk in the war!\" Childish annoyance came through his voice. \"He knows what zebra tastes like and how tall the tallest giraffe is! He knows what the butcher puts in his secret sauce and where mum got to, and why Uncle Joe's car makes that rumbling noise-\"\n\n\"Excuse me?\" Stevie's dad had been smiling along, laughing playfully at the thought of his son asking the man those questions, but one stopped him cold. \"What did he say about your mam?\"\n\nStevie, oblivious, said, \"He said he knew where she had got to.\"\n\nStevie's dad put his fork down gently and stared at his son, who was still happily munching on his peas. It didn't take long at all for the bubbling thoughts in his mind boil to the surface, and by the time he stood up his face was red with rage. \"See that-\" he started, stopping himself in front of his son. \"Stay here a moment Stevie, I'm going to pay a wee visit to Jimmy's da.\"\n\nHe grabbed his jacket and put on his shoes and marched out the kitchen, muttering fierce words under his breath. The door slammed behind him.\n\nStevie finished his dinner in peace and put his dish in the sink. He loitered round the biscuit tin, wondering if his dad would notice one missing when he got back. In the end he decided not to risk it. Besides, he was more occupied in wondering what a zebra really did taste like. He would have to get Jimmy's dad to tell him tomorrow.\n\nHe was halfway through an episode of his tv show when his dad came walking back in. With well practiced swiftness he switched off the telly and sat with his jotter out, working on a maths sum. His dad didn't seem to notice a thing. The big man numbly walked through the living room and into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a bottle of whisky and a glass. \n\n\"You alright da?\" Stevie asked, well aware that it was a weekday, and the football wasn't even on or anything.\n\n\"Aye, I am son.\" Stevie's dad walked over to the window and stared out at their street. \"Do me a favour son,\" he turned towards Stevie. \"Don't go chatting to Jimmy's da again. Ye hear?\"\n\nStevie wanted to protest, but something in his dad's voice stopped him. He nodded meekly. \n\n\"Thanks son.\" \n\nStevie went back to his sums, trying to work out multiplication while planning his next questions for Jimmy's dad. Sure, his own dad didn't want him bothering the old man, but that didn't matter. What Stevie's dad didn't know wouldn't hurt him.",
"a jimmy is a jimmy is a jimmy. \n\nwhat I say. \n\nI had a kid, yea. \nwas called after i was called \nlike my pa was called. \n\njimmy. \n\nye understand? \n\nWe **all** jimmy, \nfar as i know. \n\nha \n\njimmy \n\ngeddit? \n\nha, \nshore ye don't \n\nwho are ye anyway \n\n\"I'm u/B0ngyy, jimmy \ndon't you remember \nI made you \nand your son \nand your old pop-pop, too.\" \n\nyea ? \n\nye made me \nthat's what ye say \nyea? \nyea.... \nye made me, shore, B0ngyy \nbut ye didn't make my *world* \n\nnaw, \nnot that I can see. \n\nYe just built me from the ashes of the context \ndon't take credit fer the fertile ground \nye cocky bastard \nin fact \ni don't like yer tone \n\nNo, I don't like it one bit, u/B0ngyy. \n\nAnd as far as I heard, \nwhat I say goes \nI am jimmy's old pop-pop, after all \nain't I? \n\nor was that just a flaw in yer creation? \n\nye don't *regret* me \ndo ye, B0ngyy? \n\nheh \n\nwell \n\nye better. \n\nI am Jimmy's dad, after all \n\nand **YOU** did not create me."
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To clarify the power, I was thinking something along the lines of "I have 100% chance to do *insert here*" (something like win the lottery). I won't limit you guys with this though, you're the writers here :^)
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[WP] In a world of powers, you've developed the power to manipulate probability. Problem is, you're not a very bright person.
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"The ball rolled along the trench. The angle was askew and the ball looked like it was about to bounce along the side of the track. Astoundingly it began to spin. It spun faster away from the trench and began angling back towards the centre. Hitting the back plate the ball flew high into the air before landing squarely within the '100' pocket.\n\n\"Holy Shit\" I hear from behind me. \"You really are the ski-ball master\"\n\n\"It was nothing dude\" I reply, turning to look Max in the face. \"I just got lucky\"\n\n\"But you get crazy lucky everywhere.\"\n\n\"What do you want me to say.\"\n\n\"That you have a friggin superpower.\" The line was more of a sentence than a question. Superheroes did pop up from time to time. But I wasn't one of them. Sure I had abilities, but those guys could do the impossible. Me, I could only do the improbable.\n\n\"No-way man. I wish I did.\" I collected the tickets that were spewing out of the machine and took the whole bag of them over to the counter.\n\"The RC car thanks\"\n\n\"You know that's 25000 tickets right?\"\n\n\"I know.\" I replied cheerfully, placing the bag onto the table \"Count em\"",
"\"Hold it right there!\" shouted a scary looking mugger with a knife. \"Give me all your money and I will kill you.\" \n\n\"Or you will kill me.\"\n\n\"No, give me the money AND I will kill you.\"\n\nJeffrey gave a wry smile and a short, condescending chuckle.\n\n\"Unless, of course, your knife happened to jam, though what's the probability of that happening?\"\n\n\"Zero. Knifes don't jam.\" And then the mugger stabbed poor Jeffery.\n\nHe lay there, bleeding, his wallet missing, and made it so there was a 60% chance that an ambulance would pass by. No ambulance passed by. He slapped his forehead, and made it so there was a 90% chance that a doctor would walk by. A doctor walked by, but there was a zero percent chance that he would hear poor Jeffery, and he forgot to manipulate that probability.\n\nThis was, in essence, the story of Jeffery's life. He had a god like power, but no imagination. When he first discovered his ability to change probability, he would only accomplish mundane tasks like making there a zero percent chance that his lunch would give him diarrhea or that there would be a 100% that it would rain during baseball practice. And no, he didn't think to make it a 100% chance that he would hit every baseball when he was up to bat, and he was eventually cut from the team because of his low batting average.\n\nHe once was in love with a girl named Heather, and since love was not ruled by chance, he couldn't make her return his affections. Even so, you would think with his power he would think of ways to at least get closer to her. Perhaps, make there a hundred percent chance that her and him would be alone during a sunset or a full moon, or a hundred percent chance that she would be hungry one day when he decided to ask her out for dinner.\n\nNo, instead he merely gazed at her from a distance, and yearned. \n\nLike her silent guardian, he protected her. When she was bullied by the cheerleading team, he made it so that there was a hundred percent chance that they would fall on top of each other when performing a pyramid during homecoming in front of the whole school and become laughing stocks. When her teacher was giving her a hard time and failing her on purpose, he made it a hundred percent chance that the principle would catch wind of this teachers behavior and fire her. When her boyfriend began to abuse her and beat her, he gave him a zero percent chance that his parents would not be moved to a different city by their jobs, and he had to move very far away from his beloved Heather. \n\nIt was many years later, he had given her a high probability of getting into a good college, but he himself could not get into college because of his low grades. After all, he could manipulate probabilities, but he could not perform miracles. He lay in his own puddle of blood, and thought of Heather as he closed his eyes.\n\n\"Jeffrey? JEFFREY!\"\n\nJeffery could not believe his ears. Perhaps there was something more then odds, coincidences, and probabilities. He had not tampered with anything here, and yet there she was, beautiful Heather standing over him. At least he was able to see her one last time, standing there in her suit. She must have gone on to accomplish great things judging by it's make. He was happy as he thought of the happiness he was able to bring her.\n\n\"Heather... before I die, I have always wanted to kiss the most beautiful woman in the world...\"\n\nShe kissed him softly, and he died. ",
"They used to call them \"mutations\" Back when they appeared to be entirely biological. Super strength, speed, intelligence (which was a stretch if you asked me). It was only weeks after the development that they were simply \"powers\" as they could no longer determine how the fuck some of them worked. How does a human generate enough electric charge to create a magnetic field to stop bullets? How does the human body mutate in a way that makes them a master hacker? What about those stupid powers where you can see numbers over peoples heads, how does that work? No one really understood, but ever since Hypothetical Inc. developed this \"Extravagant Elixir^(tm)\" people have been getting all kinds of wacky shit.\n\nNow this product isn't on the market just yet, and given the testing required and the fact they have no clue how it works, it likely never will. That doesn't stop people from volunteering (often by paying the company, not the other way around) for tests. Now as I have stated, Right now they think the powers someone gets are loosely based on their genetics, and I just so happened to get the most peculiar one yet.\n\nIt took me about five years thinking \"I didn't get shit\" before I finally figured it out. If I ever say anything along the lines of \"I give it\" and some odds, those odds are right. At first it was a party trick, \"I give you five hundred to one odds that fair balanced coin lands heads up.\" It wasn't until I formally told my friends and we went to Vegas that I really got my worth out of it.\n\nIf I said the ball was going to land on double zero, it was going to land on double zero. If I doubled down on a jack, I always got an ace. It didn't take long before we were kicked out of every popular casino in Vegas, living large in the High class suites. \n\nI decide it would be a wise, and more ethical plan to be charitable with our winnings. Not like I couldn't make more money other ways, I had the powers of the universe at my fingertips. Being the goofballs we were, we decide the most effective way to donate this money was to walk around New Vegas tossing rolls of twenties at random hobos. The homeless loved it because it gave them an extra hundred or so to spend on food or alcohol, we loved it because it was funny to watch their faces go from anger to confusion to bliss. Not everyone thought it was as funny as we did.\n\nSo there is me and my two friends staring down the barrel of an old 45 caliber revolver. No problem, I am practically a god, I think. Hindsight is twenty twenty, and I definitely should have chosen a different phrasing to assault our attacker. I walk forward in front of my companions and say to the thief \"Oh yeah? Gonna shoot us? I give you 99 to one odds your gun jams right when you pull the trigger. Right here bozo\" I say pointing to my cheek \"Give me your best shot!\"\n\nAs it would turn out, if you have been taking 99 percent chances all night, you'll fail one eventually. Come to think of it, I am not sure why I didn't just say 100% all those times. Also not sure why I didn't just give the odds of ending poverty at 100%..."
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(Bring on the feels.)
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[WP] The love of your life is dying in your arms, you have but a brief moment before they're gone.
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"\"Sara\" I say in a faint whisper almost whimpering as my eyes start to tear up. \"Please don't leave me. I need you...I love you\". Her head is in my lap. She looks up at me her eyes are just as beautiful as the first time I saw them. \"You can't leave me we were suppose to live together, have kids together, and grow old together\". I feel my tears fall and see them land on her cheeks. I wipe them off softly with the back of my hand. \"Cj\" she managed to say in between coughs. \"I don't want to leave you, but it's my time to go. I can see my parents they're reaching out to me\". I can feel her heartbeat getting faint. I feel the tears streaming down my face as I hug my one true love. My one true best friend for the last time. ",
"She was always there for me. Her svelte little curves, paper thin dress, and silly aluminum hat that she always wore. \"It keeps the pressure on!\" \n \nWe met when I was 18. My father died of a coronary aneurism on September 9th. Lost in grief, crying as I came home from the hospital, I left the door to my apartment open. The chirp of brakes and a sudden yelp and my last friend followed my father. \n \nI spent that night in back corner of some no name place when her dress grabbed my attention. \"What the hell\", I thought, \"Might as well add rejection to my list of miseries\".\nRejection was not on the table that night. Her silly aluminum hat laid there instead. She listened quietly as I spread my woes. She laughed, she cried, she cared. She loved. She gave me the warmest feeling I ever knew. She called to me in a way nothing else could. I felt my face flush with giddiness as we shared awkward banter.\nI found her silly hat in my bed the following morning. \n \nShe almost fell out of the ferris wheel on our third date. We were standing on the bench to see further when the machine started moving. I stumbled, but recovered quickly. One hand on the bar, the other hand on her, we sat back down. \"That was a close one!\" I said. She smiled that smile. \n \nWe went tandem skydiving on our fifth date. We jumped, hand in hand, and shared a kiss as we plummeted towards the Earth. \"That's crazy and unsafe!\" the instructor shouted over the wind. As he pushed her away, he shouted \"Don't do anything that will get me killed!\" \n \nI left my job for her. I wish I hadn't. I think somehow it would have let me buy us more time together. \n \nI held her in my hands. So many memories washed away.\nShe started to sweat. I gulped as her life force drained bit by bit. It wouldn't be long now. \n\"I'm sorry\", I said, \"that you are almost gone, and I don't know how to replenish you.\" \nI held her close and kissed her lips. The moment passed. She was gone. \nShe looked back at me as if to say it was okay. \nI put her aluminum hat in my pocket. \nThe top was emblazoned \"Budweiser\", jut like the others. \nI told the empty bottle that I loved it and maybe on payday we could meet again. ",
"\"Monica, I...I'm scared.\" The concrete in the alley was slick with my husbands blood. He was so strong and now he was struggling to hold on. \n\nI could hear ambulance sirens in the distance, they weren't going to make it in time. I sniff, trying to be strong for him. Like he was for me.\n\n\"I know baby, I know. It's going to be okay.\" I lie through my teeth to the love of my life. \n\n\"I got him didn't I?\" He coughed, wincing as that brought a fresh stab of pain. The mugger had come out of nowhere. Dan had drawn his gun, but the other guy was quicker on the draw. \n\nThe crumpled corpse opposite us was a testament to how he'd shrugged off the bullet wound long enough to protect me. Tears slid down my cheeks.\n\n\"Yeah. You got him.\" I swiped a hand across my eyes, streaking my forehead with his blood. He smiled, relaxing noticeably. \n\n\"Honey...I ah-\" He shifted so he could look at me. \"I should have listened to you about this shortcut.\" He hid it with a joke but the admission broke any internal barriers I had left. \n\n\"You can't leave me.\" I started sobbing. \n\nHe swallowed hard, painfully. \"Shh...shhh...Mon. C'mon, look at me.\" \n\nHe mustered the strength to cup my chin, tilting my head towards him. His eyes were still so full of life, these sea green pools that always managed to hold me captive. \n\n\"The guys at the precinct are going to take care of you.\" He was speaking very clear now. A tone of desperation in his voice.\n\n\"You're going to be okay baby. They aren't going to need to take care of me.\" I said brokenly.\n\n\"I love you.\" He was struggling to stay awake. \" I never really told you that enough. But I do. You made the happiest man alive, every single day.\" \n\n\"I love you too Dan.\" I sat next to him, my back against the blood slick wall. \"I was never as perfect as you thought I was though. I don't think anyone was.\" I smile through the cascade of tears.\n\n\"Even your imperfections were perfect. As corny as that sounds\" His eyes fluttered. There's a long silence and my heart skipped a beat. But he spoke again after what felt like an eternity.\n\n\"You remember our first date?\" He asked quietly.\n\n\"Of course.\" I smiled again, blood, sweat, and tears stinging my eyes. \"You were still in the army back then. You looked so nervous.\" \n\nI kept talking. Part of me knew Dan was dead at that point but I wasn't going to leave our story unfinished. \n\nHe would have wanted to hear the ending.",
"Although we had but slim moments, her very essence coiling out from her like steam, around me, time seemed to have haulted. This was my opportunity, the angels above had given me this time to release the contents of my heart onto her, so as to make her final breath one crafted from a smile. But I faced a problem- I didn't know what it was I wanted to say. I loved her? She knew that. I would miss her? It was plainly obvious in the frozen tears on my face. \n\nNo, I had to make it meaningful, so meaningful that she would arrive in her next life with those words bouncing around in her skull. I didn't want some cheesy, cliché line, though. It had to be my thoughts, my voice, my memories. But how does one tranfer their entire life into a single line?\n\nWe had been through everything together. I helped her move out of her parents' house after highschool, she helped me find my first job, I coaxed her into joining her school's basketball team, where she discovered her favorite hobby, and she showed me just how well I can truly use my words. She had held my hand with the pencil in it, and said \"Brady, just write.\" Her tone then had been harsh, and berating, but now I realize that it was a motherly, protective tone, one that had pushed me further along my path. My second job was writing for a newspaper. \n\nYears later we married, but agreed no children, because of a possible disease she carried in her genes. She was fine, but passing it on risked the chance that our children would be born differently than all the other children. We mourned the loss together, greiving for children we would never know. She had squeezed my hand gently, her head buried in my soaked arm, and whispered, \"They're better off in Heaven.\" I agreed. \n\nSeveral years later, my father became very sick. It was a slow-moving process, almost like the sickness enjoyed watching his family suffer as they witnessed the decay of their loved one. Fate had dealt us a cruel hand, like it did with most families, but she had been so strong, for me. On his deathbed I sat with him, reminiscing about the stories we had, experiences we shared, and all the while she was next to me, holding my hand. After the shrill note continued to whine, and tears fell from my eyes, she had gripped my hand, wrapped me in a hug and said, \"He is proud of you, Brady.\"\n\nAnd now, the very same sickness he had dealt with gnawed away at her. I was cursed, an abomination that killed anything it touched. How could my father be proud of me? I couldn't even think of something, anything, to say to the life that also contained mine, and was withering away by the second. She had been there for me through *everything*, the good, the bad, and the ugly, and she always knew what to say. She had a way with words. I didn't.\n\nWith that realization, time continued. With nothing but happy memories between us, I reached through them and held onto the one thing I knew would bring me comfort. My fingers slid in between hers, now chilly and stiff, and I listened.\n_____________________________________________________\n\nEdit: I enjoyed this prompt a lot! Thank you!",
"\"Do you remember when we went to Florence for our honeymoon?\" \n\nI nod, tears in my eyes. She's slurring, the morphine is dulling her thoughts. \n\n\"The way the light filtered through the blinds of the flat, all the buildings with their red roofs and arches...\" \n\n\"Do you remember the sunsets?\" I ask her. \n\n\"Sunsets,\" she says slowly, as though she can't remember what it means. \"Yes. All pink and peach and lilac. We'll stand at the balcony and watch them.\" \n\n\"We will.\" \n\n\"And maybe tomorrow we can walk along the water.\" \n\nThe knot in my throat is making it hard to speak. \"Uh huh.\" \n\nShe squeezes my hand and looks at the wall of the hospital room- but she's not looking *at* it, she's looking *past* it, as though it's a window to somewhere else. Her eyes light up and I swear she can see something that I can't. Tears fall on her face, but they're not hers. \n\nShe turns her wide-eyed gaze to me. Filled with wonder, voice hushed as if with reverence, she asks, \"Are we in Florence?\" \n\nI sob and take a gulp of air. \"Yes, love.\" \n\nAnd just like that the quiet, dim room becomes a Tuscan villa, evening light filtering through the blinds, a sea of red-roofed buildings spanning out far below us. \n\nShe says, \"Good,\" and there's a finality to it that I can't deny. She closes her eyes and her chest stills. \n\nAnd I realise I can finally see the sunset, just beyond the wall. All pink and peach and lilac."
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[WP] The fountain of youth is a water fountain in an old abandoned high school building.
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"My town was nothing special, built around an old steel factory from World War II. Full of veterans, single mothers, and social outcasts, the town's only two story building was the abandoned high school, right across from my house. Often I'd stare at the faded silver lettering at the top of the outer gym wall, reading *Eastwood High School*. I never got to go there, it closed after my dad graduated. The chainlink fence stood around the whole place, stolidly guarding against vandals and criminals (like we had any.)\n\nPushing aside my trigonometry and showing down my empty mechanical pencil, I watched as two white vans drove past my house and turned into the school's lot. I guess today was the day the Board of Education decided to gut the place for parts. The vans emptied out two crews of workers, clad in navy jumpsuits and white caps. They pulled two plastic tubs into the school, and the dirty glass doors swished shut behind them.\n\n\"Watching the crews?\"\n\nI jumped as my mom startled me from behind with her comment. \"...yes,\" I huffed. \"Don't creep up like that.\"\n\n\"Dinner's ready,\" called her retreating voice.\n\nAfter filing up on some casserole and cranberry sauce, I hurried up to my room. It was situated to the front of the house, over the entrance hallway, with two windows overlooking the road. And the school. I looked out just in time to be rewarded with a herd of white caps moving across the school's parking lot. The fading light glimmered on the contents of the tubs - water? What did the crews want water for? I contemplated as the white vans drove away.\n\nWhat indeed, thought Tommy as I described what I had seem to him over lunch. I often had my best friend over on Saturdays for a sandwich, lemonade, chips, and an afternoon of goofing off. \"We should check it out,\" he said. \"No!\" I replied. \"We'd get into a lot of trouble for sneaking into the grounds, let alone the building.\"\n\n\"Shut up, Hermione,\" replied Tommy. \"I'll do it. Dare ya to do it with me.\"\n\n\"Bad. Idea.\" I whispered as Mom came into the room with the lemonade jug. I watched as she refilled Tommy's glass and left mine empty. \"Don't go,\" I advised him once she left the room. \"Not your choice,\" he said, staring out the window at the building. \"Be there or not.\"\n\nI figured Tommy would try it tonight, so I watched from my window as he loped down the road. Not bothering to remain stealthy in the darkness, he walked straight through the unlocked gate and into the grounds. After a moment of hesitation, I gave in and left my room. Unlike Tommy, I packed a bottle of water and my multitool. The tool I never wore, but now seemed appropriate.\n\nTommy had already entered the school by the time I was at the doors. Trying not to be too spooked by the darkened hallway, I listened for his footsteps, then called out. \"Tommy!\" I whisper shouted. Without a response, I started forward. The unopened doors down the hallways showed that he hadn't investigated that portion yet, so I wasn't surprised when I found him down the hallway with every single classroom opened. But he wasn't in a classroom - I could see Tommy's silhouette hunched over at the end of the hallway. Figuring him hurt, I dashed down to check on him. \"Tommy, you ok?\" I asked. He flinched as I approached, but wasn't surprised to see me. \"So you did come...\" he muttered. \"Just in time to steal it.\"\n\n\"What?\" I asked. But he was back to whatever he was hunching over... an old water fountain. A bubbler. That was it? It explained where the water came from, at least. Tommy pressed the button and the liquid bubbled out. I watched as he took a drink. \"Hydrated?\" I asked impatiently. He ignored me and continued drinking. Taking a close look at the water, I realizing it was glowing. Glowing gold.\n\nI shoved him aside. \"What the hell? What are you drinking?!\"\n\nTommy wiped his mouth. \"Only the best water ever. Try it...\"\n\nNot sure what to do, I tried it. The water tasted like water, but different. Purer. I gulped more down quickly. \"Tastes good, right?\"\n\nI nodded. He chuckled. \"Of course, that's why you have to die. Sorry.\"\n\nHis words barely registered before he smashed my face against the edge of the fountain, splitting my lip. Bleeding, I staggered back as he swept around me. \"It's too little for two people!\" he laughed, before flicking out a switchblade and slitting my throat."
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Name the hour anything. Maybe Dark Hour?
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[wp] An extra hour occurs at midnight, but few actually know about it.
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"I've got a little secret to share with you. It may not seem like this, but I imagine it'll blow your mind.\nNow, you know how I say I'm always most creative in the dark? I get my best work done around midnight? Well, there's a reason for that, and not just because I get all delirious and have my best ideas come through.\nIt's because there's an extra hour at midnight. Now, I know what you're thinking, that I sound crazy, but the insanity has only begun.\nYou see, in this extra hour, the world is not limited by earthly, human concepts such as logic, physics, reason, et cetera. The world comes alive in the way it truly wants to be. You know \"mythical\" creatures like unicorns, goatmen, kraken, all those beasts? They come out during the extra hour. Absolutely anything can happen during the extra hour, it's a magical land. There's one little caveat; not unlike Cinderella returning from the ball, whatever is happening when the extra hour finishes, stays in the \"real\" world. If you choose to fly to the moon and somehow be able to breathe during this hour, by the time the hour ends, if you're still up there, you're forcefully returned to the wrath of our human concepts. In simple words, honey, you'd pop like a balloon. I got lucky the first time I discovered that. I was flying, like in a dream, and was about 5 feet from the ground, just about to land, when the clock struck midnight for the second time. I got lucky, I just had a mild fall.\nNow, be careful with this information. Oh, and make sure you don't look at anything you can't handle.",
"*There's something you should know about the night.*\n\n*At 12:59am exactly; there's 60 minutes that go by in that one minute. Not everybody can experience it, there doesn't seem to be any rule about who can live it and who can't. I just know that some people are gifted that extra hour, and some are not.*\n\n*You'll know you're there when you look around, and everything reminds you of a dream. Your memories will float around you like scattered fragments of a photo, the very air itself will feel like a living creature, waiting for your next move. That's when you'll have entered the Creator's Hour.*\n\n*In this moment, your mind is the greatest power available. For just that one hour; if you can imagine it, you can create it. What you can do is limited only by what you can conjure up in your mind.*\n\n*For me, it was how I didn't have to be alone.*\n\n*I could create a character in my mind exactly how I wanted them to be, and then get I could get to know them. My perfect person, my ideal friend, and I got to talk to them every night for an hour. It was what I dreamt about when I went to bed, and I what I looked forward to when I was awake.*\n\n*It's not limited to only what you create, either. You can talk to people who you really know... or sometimes knew. I talked to Grandma like this; I drew a picture of her face as I remembered it, and it came to life and talked to me.* \n\n*I told her all about what I'd been doing since she'd been gone. I told her how everyone's ok, even though I know we miss her terribly. We'd talk about those nights spent hanging out in her small apartment, watching CSI reruns and looking for good horror movies. I'd tell her about my love of reading, and everything I'd learned from the books she showed me. I asked her if she'd be proud of me now; trying to be strong for our family when I'd never felt weaker.*\n\n*I don't know if anything she said back to me was real, or if it was just what my mind knew I wanted to hear, but I didn't care. She was real to me, and when I put my sketchbook away at the end of the hour, her face was exactly how I remembered it; with the laugh lines and expression of love I could never get just right.*\n\n*I have to tell you though, it comes at a cost. You can't live inside your head forever, but this is exactly what the hour lets you do. I think it was made so some of us could get in touch with ourselves a little bit better, or maybe that's just how we decided to use it. But your own head isn't a replacement for real life, and spending too much time in it will make you have to choose. A hard-learned lesson you should never have to experience.*\n\n*Our hour's almost up, isn't it? Time tends to go by pretty fast when it's not really flowing, huh? I know you don't want to go, but you have to know you can't stay. I made my choices, and this is a cautionary tale so you know not to make the same ones. Hang up that guitar of yours, put away that little songbook, and go wipe your face like I taught you; don't want to get that pretty dress all stained up now, right?*\n\n*It was so nice talking to you again, and I hope you remember what I said. There's no use spending time in here when there's so much for you to do out there! You'll see me again, but don't come too soon, I'd hate for you to throw away this gift.*\n\n*Remember where we're having this talk, and know that I'm always right there with you whenever you need me.*\n\n*Sleep tight, kiddo.*"
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[WP] Magic has been outlawed since science is discovered. You and a band of illegal magical rebels attempt to restore the world to a pre-science age, beliving that this will save the world.
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"The outside is a harsh place. Nowhere to find shelter that isn't affected by the electrical storm. Pity that our blood must be tainted by the M word. Otherwise, we could just live happy lives as the humans do. Unknowingly thriving under the safe dome that is The Monarch's reign. Unaware to the blizzard of destruction that has been set forth to keep us down. One day, we will rise and stop them...\n\n\"Celthion!\"\n\n\"What's the matter, Beverly?\"\n\n\"Dexter has found something that we could use to combat the storm.\"\n\n\"Let's get to the lab then,\" Celthion says, letting his previous thought process dwindle away. This good news could be all he is looking for, for himself and his fellow people.\n\nInto the elevator, Celthion begins to think of what Dexter could possibly have found to get them 30 miles through a lv. 4 electrical storm. Three floors down they exit to see their whole clan and Dexter tinkering with what seemed to be a large quad with a 15 foot dish around it. \n\n\"Well, are you going to ask about my deflector dish 2.0?\" Dexter asks with a slight smirk. \"It is everything you can think it could be and more. The only problem, it's power supply has suffered from a 3rd degree electrical burn.\"\n\nHe's talking about Sonya of course. She was the front woman who lead us here. She has the most powerful conductive M word among our group. She can control the ways of electricity in any form. Also, Dexter has a thing for her. \n\n\"Well we have our best healer working on her. She's gonna be fine,\" Celthion says, while placing a comforting hand on Dexter's shoulder. \n\n\"Alright, enough of the soft stuff, let's get working!\" Beverly says, with enough charisma to send the whole room into cheers. \n\nTwo weeks later, The rebel clan has suffered through the task of carrying twenty people across a plain of death to a decommissioned military escape hatch. Celthion and his four man pack of the most deadly magicians in the world break their way into the Monarch's headquarters in the hopes of proving to the world that the M word exists. \n\nAfter a failed attempt of sabotaging the virginity of the common man's mind, Celthion, Beverly, Dexter, and Sonya are laid in front of ten thousand people. The Monarchs stand above them to issue immediate sentencing.\n\n\"To death!\" yells The Prime Monarch. \"I sentence to witches to the guillotine!\"\n \nAs they are viciously thrown on stage, and set into four individual guillotine, Dexter looks to Sonya and says, \"If it must end this way, then forever shall you know, I love you.\" Dexter's guillotine falls...\n\nIt must have sparked something in Sonya, because even though she was being restrained by a pair of standard issue Taser-Cuffs, nothing stopped her mind from ripping the blade in half right above Dexter's head. \n\nThe croud was in shock. \"How could this be?\" \"The blade! The blade was falling and then it was destroyed\"\nDexter climbs out of his Guillotine and looks to the crowd. A pause. A deadly pause the could only be broken by the Prime Monarch yelling, \"Kill him you fools!\"\n\nDexter rises off the ground. Floating above the awestruck croud he says, \"You want to know how this is possible?!\"\n\n\"Magic\"\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] There is a new app out which let's you know how many living things are in the room with you. Yours keeps showing an error message.
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"\"Doggone it.\"\n\nI raised my eyes to my sister and glared. She ignored me, still sprawled in her baggy sweatpants and sweatshirt before the television. On my phone, the purple 404 flickered but did not disappear entirely.\n\n\"Lisa, it's time to talk.\"\n\n\"Can it wait?\" she grumbled, shifting with her eyes still glued to the screen. \"I'm busy.\"\n\n\"You hate that show.\" Flipping out of D-Tect, I switched to the AllMote app and aimed it at the television. Guy Fieri took a deep breath and blinked out of existence. \"And it's a repeat.\"\n\n\"Fiiiiiine.\" She rolled over to turn her red-rimmed eyes upon me, scowling. Her streaked mascara spoke of two days without showering if the slight off-scent was not proof enough. \"What?\"\n\n\"It's been three days,\" I began, switching back to D-Tect and showing it to her. The loading screen flipped to green numbers reading 2, then 1, then to the purple 404 of before. \"I don't expect you to get over him immediately, but please don't do anything rash.\"\n\nShe tried to maintain sullen irritation. \"What do you care? Just fix your shit, genius.\" One of her eyes twitched and the corners of her lips tightened slightly. \"I'm *so* sorry you're distracted by my bad-publicity-causing shenanigans.\"\n\n\"Lisa, shut up and listen.\" I spun the phone in my hand, shaking my head. \"It's in beta. One of the things I have to fix is the Aspirations Modifier-\"\n\n\"Jerry, speak English. And fast. I'm losing interest and nothing's looking like it matters any more.\" She rolled to her stomach and propped her chin on her hands, heaving a sigh. On the phone, the 404 brightened twice as much before dimming to its regular illumination. \n\n\"It detects nearby life as well as your own, but wanting to end life throws it off, Lisa.\" \n\nThe irritation flickered into surprise and then back again. \"I don't get it.\"\n\n\"Yes, you do.\" Standing up, I approached and sat down right in front of her. Dropping my hands into my lap, I sighed. \"Lisa, you don't have to be fine now. I don't know how you feel right now. You've had something I can't even begin to understand from my own experience. The thing is...I'm your stupid little brother and I love my stupid older sister and want her to talk to a stupid psychiatrist just to begin the process of getting over her stupid, crummy experiences which will take a long time but be a lot better for her in the end. Not awesome,\" I raised my hands in an assuring motion. \"But better.\"\n\nA loud sniff and her brown eyes turned wet. \n\nThe purple 404 turned into a green 2."
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[WP] You die, but instead of going to heaven you see the words "game over" and your score.
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"Game Over. Final Score: 37,584 pts.\n\nHuh, that's odd, I thought as I looked into the darkness. I thought when people died, they were supposed to see a bright light. Well at least it wasn't completely dark, I thought as I stared again at the words in front of my face. Game Over, what the hell could it mean? And why did that score look so familiar? \"Does this mean that it was all just a game?\" I said aloud to no one. I got up and the words moved from right in front of my face to just barely noticeable at the top right of my vision. Wherever I looked those words would hang there. Game Over. Final Score: 37,584 pts. And still I had no idea what it meant. Or what it was about the score that looked so familiar. \n\nSuddenly, there was a blinding flash. When my eyes finally recovered, I saw that it wasn't just me here... wherever I was supposed to be. Instead, there was thousands, maybe even tens of thousands. People spread out across a white room that seemed to stretch out forever. It was actually amazing I didn't manage to bump into anyone as I was wandering in the darkness.\n\nAs I turned to survey the landscape, my eyes naturally focused on one man just a short walk away. A man in a white robe and long hair, sandals on his feet. An aura radiated from him, one of warmth and peace.\n\n\"Hello,\" he said, spreading his arms wide to welcome all of us, \"Welcome my brothers and sisters. I am - \"\n\n\"Dude, are you fucking Jesus Christ!\" shouted a man next to me. I elbowed him in the ribs, hoping that I could get at least one extra point for prodding anyone who interrupted Jesus.\n\nThe man scratched the back of his head, clearly embarrassed by the sudden outburst. \"Yes, as I was saying. I am Jesus Christ, Lord and Savior, and welcome to my kingdom,\" he said.\n\n\"When do we restart?,\" another man shouted several feet away. A murmur went up all around us as everyone else who felt the same way made their voices heard as well.\n\nJesus turned in a circle, slowly as if to take in everyone around him. \"Um, you don't. You all died. There is no going back.\" He chuckled slightly to himself. \"Don't you think if it were so easy to just restart, more people would've already done it?\"\n\n\"Then why give us a Game Over screen if there is no way to restart?!\" someone shouted from the other side of the room. The crowd erupted again.\n\nAt that point, Jesus just smiled and shrugged. \"Honestly, I thought I was being clever. You see, the truth is we decided long ago to hold off Judgement for everyone until The End. So basically everyone who has ever died needed someplace to wait until it was all over. Kind of like a holding pen. We decided it would be more comfortable if you spent the time someplace ... familiar. Those who spent a lot of time in church get to wait outside some giant gates. Alcoholics spent it in a bar. Workaholics spent the time working. I was actually the one who thought up the idea of giving those who spent so much of their lives in these video games the Game Over screen.\"\n\nEveryone stood silent, stunned. I had no idea what everyone else was thinking, but I know my inner voice was screaming. We hadn't been judged yet! I thought, I thought I had made it, but there was still a chance to be tortured for the rest of eternity. Did the points have anything to do with this? Did I have enough to get me in?\n\nAfter a couple of seconds, Jesus clapped his hands together. \"Well, let's have everyone line up now for judgment.\" Unsteadily, everyone began to form into something like a line in front of Jesus. One by one, someone would step forward and the two of them would speak for a bit before the judged moved forward and disappeared, to where though I have no idea.\n\nAnd, step by step I moved closer and closer, still trying to figure out what it was about my final score that would decide where I go. My final score, I thought, it's got to be from a video game I've played. Think, think. And then it came to me. It was the last score I had on ____! That's basically the average! I've got to get in based on that score. I let out a breath of relief.\n\nThe man who first interrupted Jesus's welcoming speech stepped forward. They spoke for a minute before the man became animated, waving his arms in the air and stomping his feet. \"But I've got over 700,00 points! What do you mean I can't get in?!\" This went on for a couple more minutes before the man moved forward and disappeared the same way hundreds had before.\n\nOver 700,000 points! How the hell was I supposed to get in if I didn't even have a tenth of what he had. I looked forward to see that I was only a couple of spots away now. Was it even possible to get that high of a score in ____? Another step forward. I don't think I've even heard of any even scoring above 60,000 points. Another step forward. If it's not ____ that he scored in, then how do our scores in different games determine if we get in or not? Another step forward. Perhaps our proficiency in the game itself was what we were judged upon?\n\nAnother step forward. \"So, my son, what was your final score?\" Jesus said, a smile upon his face.\n\nI smiled back. \"37,584,\" I said, \"but points don't matter, does it?\"\n\nJesus smiled. \"Of course not,\" he said as he embraced me in a hug, \"it's never about how much you've accumulated, but what you do with it.\""
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[WP] A vaccine for mortality has been developed, but you will be the last person to die.
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"*tick, tick, tick*\n\n The small pale-white clock hung above a deep-blue door. The door's center was accented with white ripples to as to resemble the reflection of the moon rising over an ocean. Apparently, some artist attempted to make it seem as if that clock were the moon, evident in the painted reflection.\n\n*whatever*\n\n Recently, varying bits of art and other irritating forms of self-expression have been on a dramatic rise. When I would walk through the capital, it was like some ridiculous art gallery. The nation's youth have begun what they call, \"The People's Expression\". Seems to me like an excuse to spray graffiti everywhere. I don't mind the actual look of art, but I *absolutely detest* all the ignorance in these rebellious kids.\n As a matter of fact, nearly everyone has contracted this attitude. It's due in part to a discovery some biologist made, nearly one full year ago. Hyeon-Ju was his name, I think. He had discovered the medical key to immortality. Knowing the consequence of a nationwide announcement, Hoon-June or whatever hid it away. Eventually he made it into a vaccine, tested it over and over, and then dispersed it quietly among his friends. They then spread it throughout the country, over the course of a year.\n *Nearly everyone* has been vaccinated with the \"miracle drug\", except myself, along with my family and a few recently deceased friends. They died under mysterious circumstances, though it seemed to me as more of a series of coincidences. I have been waiting in my doctor's office for about one hour now, and the ticking of that yellow-white clock isn't helping pass the time. I expect the doctor to walk through that deep-blue door with my vaccine at any mo- \n\n*click*\n\n My train of thought is derailed as my eyes snap to the stainless steel door handle. It turns down, twisted by a hand from the other side. \n\nThis is it, this is the moment!\n\n As it opens, that deep-blue of the door is replaced with a rush of white, followed by olive green, and some more olive green. I recognized my doctor, yet did not understand why he had allowed two military officers to follow him in. I brushed it off as part of the procedure. Who cares any way? I was going to live forever!\n\n The doctor opened his mouth to speak. \"Supreme Leader, these are my two friends. We are here to help you\". The two men drew their pistols, and fired. \n\n\n\n*As the news eventually spread, the country breathed a collective sigh of relief. North Korea was free at last.*"
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[WP] Orcs are like tigers or lions- huge bundles of muscle that need an extraordinary amount of sleep and protein to function for short bursts of intense activity. You're a dark wizard trying to get his pet Orc to do something productive.
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"\"Will you *please* get up?\" Merk groaned, rubbing her forehead in irritation. She'd been trying to rouse this behemoth from its lazy slumber for *hours* to no avail. Despite knowing how stubborn these special hunks of space were, she, for some reason she couldn't quite discern, insisted on trying to get it to *do its job*. She could do it herself, if push came to shove, but how she *hated* having her plans thrown off.\n\n\nThe orc grunted and rolled over onto its back, presenting its stomach. Its jowls flapped as it let out a loud, groaning sigh.\n\n\nThis was ridiculous. Merk had fed the thing at least three deer. *At least*. And all that was left was bones, which, conveniently, the orc had nested on right after he'd finished gorging himself on his meal. The stench was horrific. The blood was everywhere, because you couldn't so much as think of breeding table manners into the sopping hunks of muscle without them upchucking a week's worth of digesting meat all over your face. Why did she ever think this was a good idea?\n\n\nShe'd made *plans*. Important plans. Terrorizing a city and retrieving the mortified heart of a virgin plans. *Those* plans. Merk had figured Lord Lard would be more than adept at instilling horror in intended, vitally crucial victims. She simply didn't realize how hard it would be to get him to do what she needed and ordered him to do. It wasn't like he was daft. He had intelligence. He understood well enough. He simply didn't want to do it, because *reasons*.\n\n\n*Reasons* were dumb.\n\n\n\"Get up. Get up. Get up.\" Broken record, much? What was he reducing her to? She was a great, powerful, soul-crushingly evil wizard.... Standing here, repeating herself to what amounted to a glorified loveseat that had the occasional penchant for tearing the skin off of screaming villagers and sucking the marrow from their bones.\n\n\nShe had avoided cats for this very reason. Well, that and they just ... simply weren't big enough. People were more likely to coo at them than scream in terror and run face-first into a brick wall. At this point, she'd rather have an army of cute, cuddly cats than this bumbling buffoon who couldn't be bothered to so much as turn his head to belch.\n\n\nHe had been eating and sleeping alternately for several days. None of the other dark wizards were having issues with his littermates. Why did she get stuck with this twit?\n\n\nMerk throws her arms up in defeat, and then leans her forehead against a damp wall of her suitably dark, candle-lit cave. At least her cave never betrayed her. It knew its job. Be dark. Be dank. Be expansive and foreboding. Grow those awesome mushrooms that glow. She would get the damn cave to get the heart, were she able to.\n\n\n\"I swear,\" she groans and turns away from the cave wall, gesturing wildly to the ceiling. \"A swarm of demonic, possessed anchovies falling from the sky would accomplish more than you do, you luggish tart.\" Merk ponders for a moment, and wonders if another approach might be more helpful to her endeavors. It isn't likely, she knows, but it's worth a try. Anything is worth a try. She approaches the orc and bends over, placing her hands on her robed knees. A wide, beaming smile on her face, she greats the animal enthusiastically. \"Alright, you good boy! Are you ready?!\" The orc, still on his back, opens his eyes wide and slaps his tail repeatedly on the nest of bones he's laying on. Some of them fly across the room and shatter in pieces on the wall. \"Roll over, roll over!\" She cheerfully commands, and he obeys; rolling over onto his stomach and then sitting up. He lets out a quiet roar and the stench of his breath is enough to make her gag. She feels the bile moving up her throat, burning and ... chunky, and she's not sure how, but she manages to swallow the foul liquid before she spews it all over her pet. \"G-good boy!\" she stutters. \"Do you remember the virgin heart I told you about?\" He mewls. \"Are you ready to get her? Go get her! Go get her, boy!\"\n\n\n...And off he runs, faster than lightning. And sure, he smacks into a few walls on the way, and slips over the puddle of water that he could have easily avoided if he'd watched where he was going, but he's *going*, and that's something.\n\n\nAs soon as he's out of sight, Merk releases a heavy sigh and sets off after him.\n\n\nShe should have gotten a cat."
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[WP] You're the Hero that the prophecy fortold, destined to defeat an evil Villain in a battle that will last for years. You don't have years, however, you have terminal cancer and one month to live.
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"Harold was an unassuming boy. Born to a peasant women that he has no recollection of, Harold has been making his way through life the best he can. Though low on luck, he has created a bit of reputation for himself as a kindhearted person who will go out of his way to help those in need. However, Harold has been feeling sickly lately and feared that he would lose the energy needed to keep working odd jobs. Without that measly money, Harold we be unable to buy the food that he needed. Harold began to lose hope.\n\nHowever, the day after Harold began feeling sick, a patrol of the King's Men came through the town. \"Citizens, we need your help!\" they cried as people gathered around them in the town's central yard. \"The King's Council of Great Diviners have told of a prophecy! The evil nation of the Blasted Sands are amassing troops to invade!\" The crowd assembled gave a gasp.\n\n\"I knew it! Those bastards have hated us for years!\" one women cried.\n\n\"The rumors we heard from the scouts are true! They do want to invade us!\" said a farmer angrily, his face red. Harold had heard these rumors too, but didn't know what to believe.\n\n\"Hope is not lost,\" the captain said loudly over the crowd, \"the Prophecy has spoken of a young boy of noble heart who will be raised in the palace and train with the army, to defeat the evil Lord himself after many years of battle. Please line up your young men here by our Battlemage, so that he might examine them for the mark of the Hero.\"\n\nQuickly, parents began having their children form lines. Harold watched from the back of the crowd as the battlemage looked at every kid with a frown on his face. \"Please,\" the battlemage said the crowd, \"are there no more of you?\" Harold was almost overlooked, until the mayor saw him hiding in the back.\n\n\"Harold!\" the mayor called, \"You must come up here!\" Harold found himself being dragged to the front of the crowd, towards the battlemage.\n\nThe battlemage looked him over quickly, and raised his wand over Harold's head. With an excited yelp, the battlemage exclaimed, \"He's the one!\" The crowd cheered as Harold was escorted to a knight's horse, and the group left the town towards the King's Palace.\n\nNews quickly spread that a hero had been found that fulfilled the prophecy. Covert enemy groups had been reported to be burning the outermost farming region closest the the Blasted Sands' territory. Fear was running rampant, but the people of the King's Nation found hope in Harold.\n\nHowever, after a month at the Palace Harold suddenly fell very ill. Not a day later Harold was found dead clutching his chest. The King's Diviners came out to the public and revealed that Harold had been killed by a spell cast by the lord of the Blasted Sands himself. The nation rallied in anger and many men joined the Legion, and eventually invaded the Blasted Sands. However, they met very little resistance. The army quickly moved over the region.\n\n\"Reports of the war show that we are in a very good position\" the lead Diviner said to the King in his planning room. \"The late child we found has created the support that we needed. Our scrying for a boy with a growth in his heart payed off.\"\n\nThe King laughed. \"Good! There was no way we were going to invade the Blasted Sands without some sort of catastrophe. Are our battlemages redirecting the leylines on schedule?\"\n\n\"Yes, ahead of schedule in fact. Eternal life for the Inner Council should be achievable before the war is even over.\"\n________________________________________\n\nFeedback, positive or negative, is greatly appreciated and even encouraged.\n\n",
"“You’ve got the cancer, sorry.”\n\n“You’re the second opinion, you’re supposed to dispute the results and tell me I’m going to be fine.” Ajax said rubbing his eyes.\n\n“I know this is hard to hear, but you should make peace with this and settle your affairs.”\n\n“Settle my affairs? I’m Ajax the Mighty, The Walking Death, The Eventual Slayer of the Great Evil! I’m supposed to fight in a battle lasting years and destroy the mad man trying to destroy the world! Settle my affairs indeed. Where did you get your medical license, a bag of chips?”\n\n“Everyone reacts to news like this in different ways.” The doctor said calmly. He’d seen all kinds of reactions to terminal cancer but this one took the cake.\n\n“Your head will react with the ground! Like after it gets chopped off when we lose the war.”\n\n“That doesn’t make any sense.”\n\n“The hero of ages getting cancer doesn’t make any sense!”\n\nThe doctor smiled and waited for Ajax to leave, at this point in the breakdown the patient would usually start to cry and leave. It was only a matter of time.\n\nAjax sighed and got up.\n\n“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”\n\n“You better hope you’re wrong.” Ajax said heading out the door.\n\nAjax went home after that and drank himself into a coma. When he woke up it was already late afternoon and the house was empty. He wandered the halls looking for anyone to talk to, but found no one.\n\n“Where are the heroes servants?” He shouted.\n\nThere was no answer and Ajax wandered some more. On the front door he found a note from his betrothed.\n\n“Dear Ajax,\n\nYou’ve probably figured this out by now but I’ve left you and taken the servants with me. I love you but I can’t watch you die a slow death from this sickness. So please go out and die fighting.”\n\n“She didn’t even sign it!” Ajax shouted at the note. The note didn’t’ react properly so Ajax ripped it into small pieces and scattered them to the four winds. But since he was indoors it was more like to slight breeze coming from the open window.\n\nAjax decided to take her advice and go out to die fighting. He grabbed all of his armor and weapons given to him by the king and set out to finish his destiny before cancer killed him.\n\nHe made it to the first pub between his house and the city gate. Three days later he had traded all of his belongings to stay drunk for as long as possible. Two days after that he started to sober up and wandered to another pub where he might get some credit. The day after his credit at that pub ran out he was dead in a ditch.\n\nAjax didn’t mind being dead, mostly because he didn’t notice until he was wrenched back into semi awareness. Everything was fuzzy and he found he had little control over his body, also he was standing in a field with thousands of others who looked somewhat unwell.\n\nA man at the front of the crowd began to speak.\n\n“First off, sorry for reanimating you all but the war is going badly and we’ve resorted to necromancy to win. I’m sure our children will forgive us once the great evil is destroyed. Anyway, welcome to the zombie legion! Your job is to walk in front of the real soldiers and soak up as much damage as possible, but hey, don’t let that stop you from trying to take a few bad guys down with you. Ok, let’s get this over with! Charge!”\n\nAgainst his will Ajax charged. The battle was long and many of his undead brothers and sisters fell to the enemy while he marched ever forward. He took his share of damage but he never fell and the necromancers always patched him up for the next fight. It went on for years, trapped in his own body watching it kill countless enemies.\n\nAfter a while he became sort of a good luck mascot to the rest of the troops, they dressed him in scavenged armor and tried to stick close to him in battle. He was the longest serving zombie in the legion and soldiers in drawn out battles will find anything to keep their minds off of the battle and the thought of their potential death.\n\nFinally the day they faced down the villain came. He was backed into a corner this time and there would be no escape, one way or another the war would end. As usual the zombie legion plodded forward taking heavy losses. Ajax saw the newly risen fall left and right but he kept marching, killing everything in his path. The soldiers at his back cheered as their mascot cut a hole in the enemy lines, and surged forward.\n\nThe battle went on for hours, the villain was losing ground but had nowhere to retreat too. This didn’t make sense to him, he’d destroyed the hero foretold to kill him years before. His honor guard started shouting and two were cast aside by some blood soaked monstrosity. Soldiers at its back engaged the rest of the guard as the monster marched forward.\n\nHe recognized it. “It can’t be! You're dead!” The villain shrieked.\n\n“Uuuuuunnnnnhhhhhhh.” Ajax groaned.\n\n“No! NOOOOOOOO!” The villain howled as Ajax bore down on him and ripped his throat out with his teeth.\n\nThe troops cheered at the sight of it, the war was over and their faithful zombie had won the day.\n\nAjax was carried back to camp that night on the shoulders of troops, they celebrated his victory and drank in his honor. Ajax was vaguely aware of it all, trapped in his head he didn’t care about much until the head necromancer showed up to congratulate him.\n\n“Well done monster, I grant you death as reward for your valiant deed.”\n\n“Uuunnnnhhhhh.” Ajax replied.\n\nThe soldiers cheered as the spell binding Ajax to the world of the living was lifted. Ajax cheered inside his head as well. \n\nAs his body crumbled to ash he felt relieved, he got to be the hero. \n\nSort of.\n\n---\n\nThanks for reading, check this stuff out too /r/DirtandPoncho",
"\"We will fight for years,\" the tumors say, grown deep-rooted and black inside my body. I am translucent in the mirror, grown reedy and thin, the Cancer bleeding through in opaque clots. \"A battle to last the ages. They will sing songs of us, and of your triumph.\" \n\n\"Weren't you listening?\" I say, as I slowly pull my shirt back on. The tumors ulcerate through the fabric, through the glass of my reflection. \"I've got a month.\" I cough into my hand and expel a clot of blood that crawls slowly down my palm. \"A month if I'm lucky.\" \n\n\"Do you not believe in prophesy?\" the Cancer says. \"In destiny? In the realization of your own fate?\" It snakes together, connects the dots. It reaches out with knobbly claws, a writhing, ulcerating hydra in the reckless process of replication. It is frilled and bloody at the edges, hungry and eager. \"This battle's end has already been foretold.\" \n\n\"Then give up,\" I tell it tearfully, breathing in air through the bloody fractal mass in my chest. \"If you believe in prophesy, what's the point? Why torture me like this? Just recede, go into remission! Spare us both the suffering.\" \n\n\"We will fight for years,\" it repeats. \"There is no escaping that fate. I will grow, and you will bring your armies against me. You will understand that you begot me in your blood, that I fed on the very air you inhaled. There are no other options for two such as us, no hastening of our fates. We are siblings, intertwined, and shall wage war until one destroys the other.\" \n\nI sink down onto the bed, bury my head in my hands and run my fingers over my smooth scalp, feeling the fragile angles of my skull. I remember the nausea, the vomiting, the sheer exhaustion, my skin and bones transmuting to paper and glass. \"I'm no hero,\" I say quietly. \"I've fought you for years already. I'm so tired. I'm so very tired. I don't know how much longer I can last.\" \n\n\"But you are,\" the Cancer hisses, and I see it between my fingers, its suppurating back, its dozen tongues. \"But you will. That is a hero's fate. To fight until the battle is won.\" \n\nI look dumbly beside me for a sword, for a knife, for some hero's weapon to drive into my chest, to excise this vile wyrm, and I find nothing. Nothing but my own hands clutching at my chest and balling up handfuls of my shirt, nothing but my own hot tears. \n\n\"A month,\" I say. \"That's all I can focus on. That's all I have left. I'll live as best as I can. I'll fight as best as I can. For a month.\" \n\n\"A month,\" it agrees, and rears back and strikes me in the chest, leaving me wracked with coughs, trying to breathe. \"And for a month after that,\" it says, its voice triumphant and smug. \"And for a month after that. And for a month after that.\" \n\n\"A month,\" I gasp, and pull myself to a sitting position, wiping the bloody sputum from my lips. My eyes are dull and resolute in the mirror, as the Cancer readies another strike. \"Just for another month.\" "
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[WP] You own and fly your own private plane. As you are taking off, a gun is held to your head. Its wielder tells you to change your destination: your hometown.
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" \"Bro, we were just there.\" I replied to the perpetrator.\n\n \"I know, but I was payed to do this so can you just please turn back? I don't want to use this gun.\" The perpetrator replied to me.\n\n \"Nah, but you can put that gun down!\" I ordered him back.\n\n \"No, I must get that payment!\" The perpetrator yelled.\n\n Just like that all my security measures were activated and I had sentries pointing at him.\n\n \"How 'bout now punk!\" I yelled to him.\n\n We ended up going to our original destination."
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[WP] Frustrated at your inability to get a job interview, you start sending out applications to Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, Death, etc. Eventually, you receive a response.
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"\nThe envelope was thick, almost cardboard. The stiff edges scratched at his fingers as Will opened it carefully. He couldn't help but be excited; rejection letters were never this nice. He knew that all to well as there was a small mound of them in the bin under his desk. But even they were better than the sudden silence that seemed to come after each failed enquiry. At least they had the decency to tell you you weren't wanted rather than keep you waiting until you finally lost hope. \n\nBut after sending out hundreds of emails, cv's and applications he'd received a reply that looked promising. It was just .. well who printed on paper with an edge that could draw blood. \n\nHe opened the letter and carefully read the first lines.\n\n“We have received your application ...” he looked away and gave a sigh. This was it, the moment of truth. He puffed his cheeks out with a huff and flicked his eyes down to the embossed paper. “... and would like you to interview on ...”\n\nHe leapt up from his chair with a cry and flung his arms around. An interview! A real interview at last. He felt his eyes burn as tears threatened to form. If he got this job … if … if.. that was the word, if. \n\nHe wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and picked up the paper from where it had fallen on the desk. He needed to read this carefully. \n\n“I think you might have what it takes to join us ...” he couldn't read any more. He broke down and cried. He'd hidden his feelings from everyone so well he'd almost fooled himself. Unwanted, useless, stupid, words he'd not dare to say out loud. But at night, when he was alone and unguarded, they slipped into his dreams and tormented his mind. But now he was transformed. Just hearing that someone, somewhere, was willing to give him a chance, he felt alive. He felt human again.\n\nHe read the rest of the letter, being careful not to let his tears fall onto the exquisite paper. The rest had simply included the date and time of the interview and a map to their local premises. It was across the city but he could get there with some studying of the bus times. \n\nHe knew he shouldn't, it was to soon, but he had to tell someone. A certain someone in particular. \n\n“Daddy” the voice on the phone was young and excited. He could imagine the way she would bounce on her toes as she squealed it. \n\n“Hello Kitty how are you?”\n\nHe let her talk first. Story's about things she had done at school and dressing up with friends and seeing a cat in the garden. A random mishmash of tales that only a young child could string together. \n\nBut all to soon he heard her mother in the background ask who she was talking to.\n\n“Hello Will.”\n\n“Hello Stacy.”\n\nThey were always civil to each other. Their civility wasn't just for their daughters sake but because any strong feelings between them, positive or negative, had vanished long ago. Privately each wondered if a good fight would have saved their relationship. Some wild screaming match that would have dragged their problems out into the light where they could have dealt with them. Instead they had simply plastered over the crack in their romance with empty gestures that meant well but did nothing to help, until it had all simply fallen apart. Now the only thing they had left in common was their child.\n\n“Did you just call for a chat or …?” it was Stacy's way of asking if she was needed on the phone. \n\n“I called to tell … tell you both ...” Will paused just long enough to gain his ex-wife's attention “I've … been offered a job”. \n\nHe knew he should have said interview rather than job, that made it sound like he had already had it but … well the letter made it sound like a certainty. And it wasn't a lie. Exactly. He just wanted it to sound exciting. \n\nHe heard Stacy relaying the message about him working and he laughed as his daughters reply came over the line.\n\n“Are you going to work for the tooth fairy?” \n\nEver since she had lost her tooth she had included the tooth fairy into everything she had done lately. Even on his last weekend with her she had practically made him write out an application to go work for the tooth fairy. Then she'd said something about Santa and elves and … well he'd stopped counting the letters when the Easter Bunny got involved but there had been quite a few. He'd even added a few names of his own. \n\nFunny but now he thought of it he'd not seen them since. They couldn't have got mixed in with his real applications could they. Well it as to late to do anything about that now, someone at the post office would get a laugh out of them. \n\n“So who's this job with?” asked Stacy.\n\n“It's a company called …” his eyes scanned the letter frantically till he saw the desecrate header at the top of the page “Phantasmic Solutions.”\n\n“I never heard of it.”\n\nHe hadn't either. Was it that place that made candles? No that wasn't it. Call centre? He'd applied to so many places it was hard to keep track of who was who. But it didn't matter as long as it paid enough to let him give his daughter anything she needed. \n\nThey talked for a few more minutes and he said goodbye to them both. By the time he went to bed Will had read and reread the letter so often he knew the address and information by heart. But he still hadn't remembered what sort of company it was. \n\nAs he drifted into sleep that night he smiled as he remembered what his daughter had said and wondered what sort of company the tooth fairy would have anyway. Sure he was good with money, and oddly enough he knew what each tooth was called thanks to his dentist uncle. But it wasn't like he was going to find out in a few days. \n\nAnd anyway, if anyone needed a guy with warehouse management experience it would be Santa. But that wasn't likely to be his new boss, was it.",
"\"Go to college they said, you'll get a great job when you graduate. Phaw!\"\n\n\nI graduated in two weeks and had nothing lined up, absolutely nothing to show for a Bachelor's in Technology Systems Processing and a minor in Business Administration. I'd been sending out resumes, applying to job postings and had my resume posted on a huge number of job boards for months and not a single inquiry. I was getting desperate.\n\n\nI finished typing up my latest email to recruiters. In a moment of fury or madness or something I started adding more addresses to the BCC field. \n\n\nBCC: Santa@northpole.org; ToothFairy; Death; GuardianAngels@heaven.com; EasterBunny\n\n\nI clicked Send and flung the keyboard across the room where it crashed into the wall before falling onto my bed. I flung myself down on the bed.\n\n\nFuck. What the hell was that? I'd never snapped like that before. At least no one had seen my little tantrum and no one would see the stupid email addresses I had put in. I was getting desperate but what did I really expect from bullshit addresses like that?\n\n\nSeveral days passed and not a single response, not even bounce backs from those crazy emails I sent. Whatever. That's how sad my life had become, I couldn't even get automated systems to respond to me.\n\n\nMy phone rang, startling me out of my brooding.\n\n\n\"Hello?\"\n\n\n\"Is this Mr. Richards?\"\n\n\n\"Yes it is. How can I help you?\"\n\n\n\"Mr. Richards, my name is Mr. Eth. I was recently forwarded your resume and believe we may have a position that may interest you. It is my preference to perform all interviews in person, would you have availability to meet with me?\"\n\n\n\"Yes!\" I practically shouted at the phone, \"I'm available any time you'd like to meet.\"\n\n\n\"I have business at the Roosevelt Hotel tomorrow, meet me in the lounge at 5pm sharp.\"\n\n\n\"Yes, sir. I will see you at 5pm tomorrow.\"\n\n\n\"Very good.\"\n\n\nClick\n\n\nMy mind was racing. I had an interview! I don't know who with, but does it really matter? It's a job! At least hopefully. I can always look for another one later if I don't like this one.\n\n\nThe next afternoon I dress carefully, charcoal suit with pinstripes, white shirt, and yellow tie. I had to skip class, but this was worth it. I could fail the final and still pass the class. At 4:55 I walk into the lounge at the Roosevelt Hotel and speak to the hostess.\n\n\n\"I'm here to meet Mr. Eth, is he here?\"\n\n\n\"Let me show you to his table, he hasn't come down yet.\"\n\n\nA blur of a woman shows me to a table. I was so excited and nervous I have no idea what she looked like even though I was looking right at her.\n\n\n\"Mr. Eath should be with you shortly,\" she said as if she knew the man.\n\n\nI sat and stared blankly around the room, fighting to keep my feet from tapping, or playing with the menu or my phone. I needed to look calm and put together, not like a nervous wreck.\n\n\nI looked at my watch for probably the hundredth time and noticed the second and minute hands converging on the 12. It was five o'clock. I looked up to see a tall, dark man in an immaculate black suit striding across the room.\n\n\n\"Mr. Richards, you are early. I am Mr. Eath, Domingo Eath. Thank you for joining me,\" he said as he extended a hand to shake.\n\n\n\"Nice to meet you sir. I didn't want to be late so I got here a few minutes early.\"\n\n\n\"Punctuality is highly desired in my profession, precise punctuality,\" he said calmly as he sat, although it almost sounded like a scolding.\n\n\n\"I believe you are looking for a job, is that correct?\" he continued.\n\n\n\"Yes sir, I graduate in a little over a week and don't have anything lined up yet,\" I admitted.\n\n\n\"We do have need of a person with your skill set, but I must admit the position is slightly...unusual. We are in need of a person to help us revamp and overhaul our current system. We are in the business of processing and cannot keep up with current demand. The position would be highly visible and under close scrutiny. Do you feel you would be up to the challenge?\" he asked.\n\n\nMy mind was racing. Processes, systems, administrative overhead; everything did sound like precisely what I had been studying the last few years. But all of my work would be highly scrutinized? Sounds like I could be fired pretty easily if they didn't like what I did. I had figured I'd be riding the bench for a few years until I was more experienced in the business world.\n\n\n\"I..I think so. Can you tell me more about who you work for and what exactly would be expected of me?\"\n\n\nHe studied me with his large black eyes, his face blank. The seconds ticked by.\n\n\n\"Are you an open minded individual Mr. Richards?\"\n\n\nThat was an odd response.\n\n\n\"I like to think so. I have my opinions, but I'm always willing to debate. I have a wide variety of friends, one of my best friends is a lesbian. The only people I don't like are the willfully ignorant.\"\n\n\n\"That is good Mr. Richards, this job will push those boundaries for you. The fact of the matter is that everyone who works for me is part of the Afterlife Assignment Consortium.\"\n\n\n\"The what?\" I said as my jaw dropped. Had he really just said what I think he said?\n\n\n\"Yes you heard correctly. My organization, of which you could name me as the Chief Executive Officer, is in charge of collecting souls and assigning them to the appropriate afterlife.\"\n\n\n\"So wait...are you trying to tell me that you are Death? THE Death?\"\n\n\n\"That is correct, Mr. Richards. I am surprised you did not pick up on that fact based on my name.\"\n\n\n\"Your name? Mr. Eth?\" I stammered.\n\n\n\"Eath,\" pronouncing it slightly differently than I had, \"Domingo Eath. Domingo E.A.T.H. D. E.A.T.H. Apparently my proper name was too cumbersome for mortals and they shortened it to death.\"\n\n\n\"I am afraid that we have a backlog, a backlog that has existed since the Second World War as you call it. Our Collections department has been forced to maintain all of its deadlines, but the Processing department has fallen dreadfully behind. Every soul must be processed to his, her or its distinct beliefs about the afterlife. Due to falling revenue we have not been able to expand the Processing department as much as is required.\"\n\n\nI stared at him dumbfounded. Surely I had to be drunk or high or something. No one had real conversations like this.\n\n\n\"I assure you everything I am telling you is true and quite factual Mr. Richards. Your role in our organization would be to assist us in revamping the Processing Department procedures, to streamline the processes we use to assign souls to their afterlife faster so they are not required to spend any longer than necessary in Limbo. Each soul is granted its due time in Processing to appease the soul so it accepts it final fate, but that time has cost us dearly and created the backlog with the burgeoning population and the increased death rate.\"\n\n\n\"I will ask you again, are you an open minded individual Mr. Richards?\"",
"He's inside the portal now, just hanging around, waiting for the flag carrier to run in and try to steal their flag. He'll kill them instantly of course; this form of camping is effective enough to be certain of that. The underground map was purple and grey with white rocks and weapons points littered about. He was a level 20 fighter, with all kinds of weapons proficiencies. \n\n\"Get outta the game, NOW,\" his mom said. He lived with his mom even though he was almost 30. The VR games started being released when he was 25, and he was forced to move in with his parents due to gaming addiction not long after that. \"When are you going to apply for a job? Do that NOW,\" she said.\n\nHe typed in a retreat message and sat on top of a silver shard to safely consider his options. He despised fast food; McDonald's, Arby's, Sonic, KFC, Pizza Hut, Subway, all of the fast food in his town were not options. That left him with retail, phone sales, fine dining, and false fantasy characters just to say he applied. Quickly ruling out everything civilized, he began his MS Word document with the application. \n\n\"Dear ______(Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, Death, the Easter Bunny, Zeus, any fantasy character, etc),\n\nI have believed in you since I was a child, and never accepted my world's explanation you do not exist, despite my knowledge they truly believe in it. I have followed your progress from worldly dealings to your digital larks, in the video game world, hiding behind programmatic code and online avatars to perform your enthralling ceremonies. I am of course simple a pagan MMO addict who has seen your power. I want to offer you my soul in exchange for a salary. \"\n\nHe had his mother mail the letter. He said it was an unemployment application, thus she sent it to the most satanic government office ever: the work force. He expected no reply of course, and went back to the game. A flying vehicle would help him out in these purple caves, so he went to the terminal to respawn a new one. When he arrived, he saw a character that had never been seen by any Planetside player ever: he saw Vanu Jesus, arm outstretched, offering salvation in exchange for his soul. \"What is my salary if I join you?\" he said in local chat. \n\n\"50k,\" Vanu Jesus said. \n\nHe wasn't the highest paid MMO star ever, but after famously unlocking the Vanu Jesus Easter egg, his job as community service representative certainly *paid well*.\n\n",
"I stared at the man wearing a dark hood sitting across the table from me, utterly unable to comprehend what was happening, why no one was paying attention, and a million other things.\n\nMy parents had told me to go to college, but my parents were dumbasses who clearly did not know that the job market was going to be absolutely shit. I had jokingly applied to death and a few other imaginary places after smoking some fine weed. I hadn't even mailed the letters, they just went missing.\n\n\"So why do you want a job with..death?\" the hooded man asked after a long pause, hissing the last word out. I drew back in alarm that showed on my face.\n\n\"I'll have to apologize for my voice, rapid changes in the weather have left me like this\"\n\nI still wasn't talking, I was just astounded that death of all people could suffer from changes in the weather. \n\n\"You are not much of a talker are you?\" he asked me when there was nothing forthcoming from me. \"I like that about you Steve, I absolutely like that about you\"\n\nStill didn't say anything.\n\n\"Is something wrong?\" he asked me, hissing again. \"Is my voice putting you off? Should I ask one of my angels to come interview you instead?\"\n\n\"Angels?\" I murmured.\n\n\"Ah yes, my lovely angels of death, each more beautiful than the last one. I've got the best angels, that ponce up in the sky has nothing on my beautiful looking angels\" Death continued, doing his best pimp impersonation.\n\nI just nodded hesitantly.\n\n\"Please\" Death said. \"Taste the coffee, it is my own brew after all. I roasted the beans in the fires.....of hell\"\n\nI finally paid attention to the dingy diner. The waitress wasn't looking like she was going to interrupt us soon. I looked down at the steaming coffee and took a sip.\n\n\"Careful\" Death said as I fumbled with the handle of the cup. \"I want to avoid all law suits\"\n\nI took a sip from the cup, it really did taste delicious. Death seemed to have noticed by delight.\n\n\"Glad you like it\" he said to me, his hisses sounding surprisingly cheery.\n\n\"Where are the beans from?\" I asked him despite myself. I wasn't really sure I wanted to know.\n\n\"Oh, Java\" Death said dismissively. We continued to drink in silence.\n\n\"So your responsibilities\" Death began after a while, sounding ceremonious in his hissing. He coughed for a second, I turned around to see if anyone noticed us, which they hadn't yet.\n\n\"They include\" he continued, \"Running around the country, tracking people whose names are on the list...and sending them...to hell\"\n\n\"Not heaven?\" I asked him. A sneer appeared on Death's face.\n\n\"No\" he said. \"The heaven sending job was outsourced\"\n\nI didn't know how to respond as Death droned on about the lack of restrictions on God and the Devil who continued to outsource the work.\n\n\"I'm an American Steve, as are all my angels, we still believe in the country it used to be\" he said in one of the moments I was actually paying attention towards him.\n\n\"I like the cut of your jib Steve\" Death continued, finally stopping after what seemed like hours. \"I'm offering you a job, do you accept?\"\n\n\"What is the pay?\" I asked him.\n\nThe Death droned on about there being minimal pay but added benefits of being immortal and never feeling hungry ever again and an ability to be invisible, I think, I was still hung up on the minimal pay thing.\n\nThe market was crap though, and I was not going to get any better at the moment.\n\n\"I would love to take the offer, Mr Death\"\n\nDeath smiled at that.\n\n\"Splendid\" he said. \"Now that we're friends, please just call me Mr D, or Big D\"\n\nI decided I was never going to call him that.\n\n\"When do I start?\" I asked him.\n\n\"Right at this very moment, we are in Cincinnati after all, and your first target is in a zoo\"\n\n\"Right\" I said to him as I stood up. \n\n\"Oh yeah\" he continued. \"This is not really a human, but the fucking Devil has said that this will provide great entertainment to us and mortals alike. Let me search for his name\" he said as he began fumbling with his hands in a beige back that I didn't even know he had.\n\n\"Ah yes..I believe you're here to claim a Gorilla. His name is-\"\n\n-fin-"
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[WP] The Aliens have arrived a generational ship fleeing from the destruction of their homeworlds destruction. In return for land and citizenship they will share their technology with their host country. Earth reacts..
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"Questions that need to be address are\nWho has the authority to speak for the people of Earth? \nWould it be the UN? \nIf not would a new governing body be created?\nCan an individual country have its own contract with the aliens\nWhat would religious leader have to say?\nWhat effect would the knowledge that we are not alone have on people in general?\nIf nations disagreed how would their differences be resolved?\nWhat if the aliens have such a repulsive appearance that humans can't stand to look at them? ( think of the ugly species from Galaxy Quest movie)\nEven though the question assumes that the language barrier has been broken what if we cannot communicate with them by speaking?\nIf we can't communicate with each orally what form of communication could/would be used?\n",
"It was a day every human would remember. Aliens, actual *I swear to god* living breathing aliens had made contact with us. Their first message had been translated and was being replayed on every tv and radio station. *We come in peace, we seek asylum and friendship* Everybody was going nuts. People didn't show up for work, there was spontaneous dancing and singing in the streets, giant peace rallies, the works. \n\nThe alien ship was holding steady near the moon. Negociations for an official first contact had begun and they were due to land in 8 days, the location still to be determined. World governments had ask for the time to prepare themselves for this extraordinary moment. Rumours had begun spreading that they were also willing to share advanced technology with us, both medical and military.\n\nAs soon as people had started celebrating, others had begun fortifying themselves, fearing an invasion. Peace protests were countered by fear protests. *We love you* signs were countered with *aliens go home* signs. Still, most of the general public was ecstatic and fear mongerers were cast aside as an annoying little minority.\n\nGovernments were also happy, poor countries dreamed of medecine and a higher standard of living while powerful countries dreamed of new power they could gain. You could see the glimmer in their eyes, weapons, ships, power, they wanted it all. \n\nWhen it came time to designate a landing site, things took a turn for the worst. Everybody wanted the alien to land on their territory, everybody wanted to become their closest friend. Discussions became aggitated, negociations became screaming matches. After 6 days of heavy discussion the world was no closer to a clear landing site. A nationalist fever had swept most countries, always arguing that *they* were the only logical choice for a landing site. \n\nOn the 7th day, it happened. An explosion in Italy, 600 dead. We'll never know exactly who's responsible. America accused China, China accused Great Britain, Great Britain accused Russia, total chaos erupted. People took to the streets, violence arised. Alien friendly militias started poping about everywhere. Many countried declared martial law to try to control the spred of violence but with little success. \n\nOn the 8th morning, ultra nationalists took control of a french nuclear silo, some say they had help from inside but the details don't matter anymore. 2 nukes were launched towards the USA which replied in kind with 3 of it's own. Then India, then China, then who knows.\n\nToday would be day 10. The alien still have not landed. Most of the world population is either dead or dying. There was no nuke here but the air is getting harder to breathe and my lungs hurt. Poeple are desperatly trying to contact the alien ship, begging for help but they are not answering. How did this happen ? 10 days ago history was made but now, we are history.\n\n******\n\nAbord the ship, commander Xandar sat in his chair, first officer Zenna at his side.\n\n*Holy crap, look at them go! At this speed they'll have wiped themselves off the planet within the next moon phase. Intel was right, these guys are IDIOTS.*\n\n*Told you, we'll have a planet just for us and we'll have done it without violating the galactic regulation preventing genocide since they killed themselves*\n\n*Too bad about the pretty blue ozone, it looked nice*\n\n*Bah, it's not like we needed it anyway. I'll schedule the terraforming initiative for the next moon phase*",
"“So, what sweet bounty do you have to offer, Aliens?” enquired the President, a megaphone trembling in his hand like a cat’s arsehole shitting a rusty key.\n\n“Can we call them aliens?” asked Sharon. Sharon Hanley was one of the agents most trusted advisors.\n\n”Of course we can call them aliens. They're aliens, Sharon.”\n\n”But we don't specifically know what pro-nouns they relate to.”\n\n[A rogue voice boomed out from the Mothership] **We speak to you using a form of voice translation technology. A technology which your primitive species have yet to birth. We offer this in exchange for refuge.**\n\n”Ask them if you can talk to dogs with it.” Suggested Agent Peck. A tall, brutish man tasked with defending the President if such behaviour was ever needed.\n\n”I'm not asking i... ”\n\n[The voice boomed out again] **You may refer to our species as aliens.**\n\n”See, Sharon?” Said the President more smugly than a man proving his wife wrong after being a little unsure himself.\n\n”I just wanted to check.”\n\n**And yes, you can talk to dogs with it.**\n\n”This is amazing. I vote we let them in.” exclaimed Agent Peck.\n\n”Don't get ahead of yourself, Peck. We're still to hear their demands in full. Although, and don't tell the aliens this, I'm already leaning heavily towards letting them live here, too.” Whispered the President while still holding the megaphone to his mouth.\n\n**Right of passage and citizenship is all we require from your generous species.**\n\n”That's fair. It's fair, right?” queried the President.\n\n”Totally fair.”\n\n“Completely fair.”\n\n”I particularly liked the part at the end when the aliens threw a compliment in.” Added the President.\n\n”I didn't want to say anything,” Sharon started while holding her hands up which she believed made her comment even more honest, “but honestly, I was over the moon when they paid that small tribute towards the end there.”\n\n”If I was to also be honest, it was a classy move.” Agreed Peck.\n\nThe President moved on. ”Well what else do you have to offer, friends? Your request is noble but we will obviously need compensation for your stay.” \n\n**Infinite energy, the secret of immortality and we have season 9 of Breaking Bad on DVD**\n\n”You have what?”\n\n”What was that last one?”\n\n“They only filmed up to season 5 on our planet.”\n\n”Get Bryan Cranston on the phone.” Barked the President.\n\nPeck stood forward and looked Sharon, the President and somehow the Mothership in the eye, “I never got past the first season.”\n\n**Who is the one among you who didn't get past the first season of Breaking Bad?**\n\n“That's this guy.” Sharon admitted in earnest. \n\n“Peck, get over here and explain yourself.” Demanded the President, disgust rolling off his tongue. \n\n“It was either that or Sons of Anarchy and I settled on Sons of Anarchy.”\n\n**Sons of Anarchy is an inferior show.**\n\nThe President quickly tried to turn the tide and ease the tensions, “I don't think you will find another person on this planet who disagrees with you, aliens.”\n\n”I actually prefer Sons of Anarchy, too.” Agent Thomas, who was not in this story until now, perked up.\n\n“Oh my God. Thomas. You're ruining the negotiations.”\n\n**We are not pleased**\n\nThomas spoke up again, uttering his second line of this tale. “Sir it's Bryan Cranston on the phone.” \n\n“Not now, Thomas!”\n\n**Goodbye Earthlings. You have much to learn.**"
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[WP] You've been searching for your absent biological parent most of your life and now you finally have an address. You knock on the door and the person who answers... is you.
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"I stood for one second, then two. My jaw dropped, I gaped at the smirking figure who was leaning casually against the doorway, arms crossed, clearly amused by my disbelieving expression. I found myself gesticulating emptily in the air, my mouth moving up and down, but no words coming out.\n\n\"**No.**\"\n\n\"Yup.\"\n\n\"***No.***\"\n\n\"You better believe it, bud.\"\n\n\"You *didn't.*\"\n\n\"Well, *someone* had to do it, didn't they?\"\n\n\"You, you-\" I grasped at the air, \"You **motherfucker.**\"\n\n\"'Fraid so.\"\n\n\"I cannot fucking believe this shit. How dare you. How *dare* you!\" I began to pace back and forth on the front porch, incensed beyond reason. \"The biological implications alone-\"\n\n\"Look, you don't have to tell me how impossible the science is behind this, I went to all the same biology classes you did.\"\n\n\"The *ethical* implications-\"\n\n\"I think we can chalk this one up to self-defense, can't we?\"\n\n\"You traveled through time!?\"\n\n\"Yeah, but it was kind of a one shot deal. No repeats, no refunds, no take-backs, etc.\"\n\n\"OK, I rephrase the question. You traveled through time and all you did was.....that?\"\n\n\"You think so little of me? Come now, this is **you** you're talking about. I have some sweet, sweet stock information you're going to want to hear after this.\"\n\n\"OK. Okay,\" I breathed, trying to calm myself, \"this isn't the end of the world. We can deal with this. I just need a second to take this in-\"\n\n\"That's not what your Mom said last night!\"\n\nI froze solid, looking up at myself, still grinning in the doorway. My face still full of disbelief, I began nodding to myself.\n\n\"I'm going to murder you. I'm going to kill you and our whole existence will have been one short self-fulfilling loop with no meaning and it'll be all *your fault!*\n\nThe \"me\" in the door way raised a protesting finger in the air. \"Well, technically, if it's *my* fault it's also *your* fault, so tough beans, McFly.\"\n\n\"Holy shit, now is *not* the time for our obsession with 80's movies, future me. I am having an actual literal existential crisis.\"\n\n\"Well, while you're doing that, do you want to come inside? I've got Monopoly and I got really bored waiting for you to show up.\"\n\nI scanned the figure in the doorway again. My spitting image. \"Wait, exactly how far in my future are you? Please tell it's a long time-\"\n\n\"Oh, like a week and half, tops.\"\n\nI doubled over, clutching my stomach, trying not to vomit. \n\n\"I *hate* you.\"\n\nThe figure in the doorway grinned and placed their hands on their hips, sniggering. \n\"Come now, is that any way to speak to your father?\"\n\n\"**FUUUUUUUUUU**-\"\n\n"
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[WP] You are James of Team Rocket. Team Rocket is finally successful in capturing Pikachu and killing the famed pokemon trio of heroes. What happens when you bring Pikachu in to Giovanni?
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"Jesse stood before the Boss. Face ragged and aged, scraggly beard adorning his face. The rubber box in his hand shook occasionally, little arcs of electricity fizzling out along its surface. Jesse himself seemed unphazed by them, staring blankly ahead.\n\n\"James, it is about time you got back. Where is Jesse?\"\n\nDead, she was dead, even though he could not bear to say the words. Brock, in a fit of anger had ordered Onyx to crush her, there was not much left of her after that. Tears welled in the corner of his eye. Giovanni still had not turned to face him.\n\n\"And Meowth?\"\n\n\"Officer Jenny's Growlithe chased him up a tree. Then burned it out from under him. We never found the body.\" James said this one without remorse. It had been Meowth's plan that had gotten Jesse killed. Stupid, intelligent cat. He had not expected to actually have to kill Ash. Idiot child. If he had just given up, none of this would have been necessary. \n\n\"Acceptable losses, I suppose.\" Giovanni finally turned to face James. His suit unruffled, hair perfectly coiffed, teeth shiny. No scars on that face, no blood on those hands. James continued to stare, a thousand miles ahead.\n\n\"Acceptable losses?\" James queried, finally moving his head, eyes boring into his bosses. \"My best friend, my love, dead, 3 kids, countless pokemon, for what? A Pikachu?\" Rage began to leak onto the face of James as he stared down the boss. \"You could have had any Pikachu you wanted, why this one?\" He stepped forward leaning across the desk and grabbed the boss by that perfect collar, by that gleaming white shirt and got into his face, shouting, \"WHAT IS SO SPECIAL ABOUT HIM?\"\n\n\"I wanted him, that is all you need to know. I could not let that Ash kid have him. I wanted him.\"\n\nJames reeled back in shock, \"You sacrificed so many lives, for avarice? You wanted him? Well, at least now I know. Greed, I can understand,\" he calmed, released the bosses shirt and leaned back. The rubber box was set on the shiny wooden desk. \n\n\"I can understand greed. It drives me too, you know.\" Jesse relaxed, sitting in a chair opposite side of the desk to his boss. \"I have had a lot of time to think about greed, about desire. It took me three months to get back here after I recovered the Pikachu. Lots of time to think. About Jesse, about our mission. About the singular drive we both had.\n\nIt is greed that drove me to try and understand why you wanted him. He is smart isn't he? Not in a conventional sense, where he could talk, like Meowth. No, he makes those damned 'pika pika' sounds, but you can understand what he is saying. \n\nHe understands us really well too, above the average pokemon. He understands emotion the way we do. He would not talk to me for weeks. I was the one that killed the kid, you know. Choked the life out of him with these hands,\" Jesse held his hands in front of his face. They shook. \"Brock got so angry. He was a gym leader before, he knew what he was doing, how far he could push things. He lost control, that why she's......The girl, the other gym leader, Misty. She broke down, could not take what she saw, I suppose. She just sat there. I left her by that road side. I let my greed drive me, I grabbed the Pikachu and ran. \n\nLike I said, he would not talk to me for weeks, but finally he said something, and I understood, you know? How he felt, what he meant. Beyond what I could do with Wheezing or Victoreebell. I knew the depth of his despair, and he knew the depth of mine. \n\nHe told me that he is special, he is self aware enough to know of his specific breeding, the project to make pokemon better able to communicate with humans. We connected, better than he and Ash did, from what I understand. \n\nAnd now he is here, for you, Boss. He just wanted me to say one thing to you before you meet him.\n\nPikachu, I choose you.\" Jesse ripped open the box, and hit the floor.\n\n==========\n\nA few minutes later, Jesse closed the office door, leaving the smoking corpse of Giovanni behind. Pikachu trotted up beside, and looked up at him, before scrambling up his side and onto Jesse's shoulder. He held an item out to Jesse, who took it carefully. A hat. Ash's hat. Jesse smiled slightly, and screwed it down onto his head.\n\n\"I suppose I have a lot of atoning to do if I want to be the very best, don't I?\""
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[WP] The USA just lost a major war to aliens.
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"The sounds of water hitting the ground fill my head, it's warm and bright. A sweet aroma begins to fill my nose and gives me a nice feeling inside.\n\"Mar, can you hand me a towel?\" I hear as my vision goes bright a second. \n\"Hello, Marvin?\"\n\"Fuck, sorry\" I replied as I take a quick glance at my surroundings. \n\"What's wrong?\" Yvette asked. \n\"I don't know. I think I kind of just spaced out, it's nothing.\" I said, \"Anyways why do I have my guitar out and am sitting on the toilet?\" \nYvette laughed, \"Because you were playing while I was showering, dummy.\" She said as she grabbed the towel herself. \n\"Damn, guess I really did just spaced out. What time is it?\" I replied. \n\"Almost time for me to leave for school but we have time to hangout.\"\n\"Noice,\" I said as I started fiddling with my guitar for a minute while she gets dressed. I'm a bit lost in the moment, feeling as if everything is questionably unreal, like a dream yet I am aware. I feel a bit uncomfortable in this realization but I don't want to show it. \n\"Yve?\" I said, awaiting her look. She looks up at me still buttoning up her jeans, \"Yeah?\" I stare at her for a second.\n\"I don't want to sound like a weirdo here but is anything today out of the norm or is it just me?\" \n\"No not really, or at least that I know of. Maybe you're just tired?\" \n\"I do feel a little tired and it's early in the morning so I guess you might be right.\" \n\"Come on, lets go lay down for a little before I have to go.\" \n\nWe get in bed and get comfortable on one another, specifically Yvette resting her head on my chest. At this point, I decided to ignore the bathroom incident thinking it was just it's own random moment. I begin to play with Yvette's hair, now caught up in the moment of how beautiful she is. Where did I find the courage to approach such a beauty? I've always thought of her so but right now I can't get it out of my head. It starts to make me feel sad a little. She's been a bit upset lately, feeling like I don't love her enough. \"Yvette?\" I called,\n\"Yeah?\" \n\"I love you.\"\n\"I love you too, my love. What happened?\" \n\"I know you feel like I don't show much affection lately and it just upsets me because I love you a lot.\" I said as she stares deeply, \"You're my best friend and the most beautiful person inside and out. I promise that there is nothing less. I could go on and on but I'd rather not make excuses and such. I'm sorry I've felt so distant.\" \n\"It's okay Mar, I know you love me and I love you too.\" Yvette replied, with a small smile. \"There is no one else on this earth that I'd rather spend my days with.\" As she caresses my face, I feel a tear rush out of my eye. She closes in to kiss me, I close my eyes in anticipation and then.. Nothing. Strange noises begin to take over, my head fucking hurts.\n\nThe earth beneath me is trembling and vibrant colors fill the sky. I hear the screams, the shouts and the war cries of my people. As I regain consciousness, I stumble to my feet and reach for my gun, my friend Mario violently grabs me before I can even touch it. \"Marvin, we need to get the fuck out of here! Move!\" I'm running faster than I can think, stumbling over almost everything in my path. My body is full of adrenaline, so many thoughts fill my head, so many noises. We retreat into a neighboring office building not too far from the field where we met the Greys on center ground at. I'm nearly out of breath, still trying to collect my thoughts. Cub, our medic, rushes over to me and hands me a stimpak, \n\"Heal up man, we got shit to do.\" He says. I use the stimpak and head over to the group while they're discussing our next plan. \n\"We're about 50 men strong in our squad, we're the last of many but we won't let the fallen die in vain!\" Our squad leader Rory proclaimed. \"We're severely outnumbered and bought ourselves a little bit of time until HQ decides what to do with us. Re supply what we've got and arm yourselves to the fucking teeth, it's a long night ahead for us.\" \nWe run around like headless chickens, trying to gather what we have and prepare for the next battle. I rush straight to Mario and ask him what's next. \n\"I don't know man, we don't even know how many of them are out there right now. You saw how many there were on the field, hopefully we took out most of them cause they fucked us up real bad.\" Mario replies as Cub joins in the conversation while he readies his gear.\n\"Yup, that's how it's been lookin' since this shit started\" he says, \"don't know how much longer we can keep this up, ya know? They just keep fuckin' coming, fuck do they want with us?\"\nI listened and stared angrily into the distance. \n\"I was drafted because the military needed more men to fight. These motherfuckers took everything that we've had and won't let down now. We have no choice but to fight.\" \n\"That was some good shit you did back there man.\" Mario said to me, \n\"Huh?\" \n\"You fucking blew their attack ship to bits, dude.\"\n\"Yeah man, saved us a lot of lives.\" Cub joined in. \n\"Except your dumbass forgot to get down so the shockwave knocked you on your ass,\" he laughed, \n\"Shit, I completely forgot about that.\" I replied.\nThat's when it took place, the dream. \nI thought to myself, \"What did we ever do to deserve this?\" I mean as a species, humans have done a bunch of fucked up things that an impending doom was always certain but why like this? Or is this it? Is this what we had coming to us? I hate to always think this way. I just want to see my family, my friends, Yvette. All of them. Even if the war is fought and won, the period of time to rebuild will be lengthy. Who knows what life will be like afterwards. \n\"We've got 2 minutes before they move in!\" Rory yelled. \n\"Any news from HQ?\" Mario asked, \n\"Not yet, unfortunately. Ass hats don't realize how close they are. Just everybody get in position and be ready for anything!\" \nI joined Cub and Mario behind a few desks we arranged for cover and waited. \nWe heard them coming, the Greys. They weren't discreet about it either. \n\"Here come those fucks\" Cub said under his breath. \n\nAfter a few seconds of silence, BOOM the Greys had breached the whole wall instead of the door. They swarmed in without any type of cover, it looked almost like a firing squad execution. We mowed many of them down but even then they're numbers were beginning to overwhelm us. The Greys had taken out some of our men which was concerning because of our small numbers, I suggested we move back before we end up like them but Rory wasn't budging. He demanded we stay and fight, I thought it wasn't a very smart move but I stayed anyways. Rory continued yelling to HQ demanding some answers to which they didn't respond. It didn't take long before he decided we retreat after he had realized our diminished numbers. \"Move back, fall back! We're outnumbered!\" I threw my last grenade to buy us some time to get out of there as fast as we could. I ran towards the exit behind me and made it out in one piece, as did our remaining few. \nWe made our way to some hills not too far, \"What now, Rory?\" Mario asked. \n\"I don't know, honestly. We can't fight these things without any ammo and we've already lost too many men. We have to find some way to get out of here and get to a safe haven.\" \nWe heard them in the distance, searching for us but we were safe enough here for a while. \nI looked towards the horizon, while the sun was rising. \n\"Man, I wish I had a blunt or two right now,\" Mario said as he joined me watching the sunrise. \n\"It would fucking suck to be high right now, fack you mean\" I said in a joking way,\n\"But seriously though it would suck to be high right now. Why would you want to be high and fight aliens?\" \n\"I hadn't thought of it that way, I was thinking just chillin' and smoking a blunt but fighting aliens while high sounds cool too, the fuck.\" He replied. \n\"Cub, you tryin' to smoke a blunt right now?\" I asked him.\n\"Boy, I wanna get high as fuck and go ho-\" Cub was interrupted by the craziest fucking sound ever, \n\"What the hell was that?\" We all said to each other. \nWe looked over the hill and saw the Greys, doubled in numbers. Doubled is an understatement. They filled the streets, they had even more ships at this point. We stood there in disbelief, not even knowing what to say. \nI'm standing there, facing the opposite direction of the sun then a sound that sounded like the sky cracked open happened. Brighter than the sun, yet it's falling from the sky. My heart is racing as I begin to realize what's going on. Everyone around me starts to make commotion. I stare as I begin to think of Yvette. My family. My friends. Tears stream down my face while I stand there in silence and close my eyes. \n\n"
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[Wood Wide Web](http://www.bbc.co.uk/earth/story/20141111-plants-have-a-hidden-internet)
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[WP] You are a master hacker... on the Wood Wide Web.
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"\"Take that!\" I childishly muttered. My axe fell in heavy swoops, crushing the wood to a pulp, the wood splintering to pieces. My hacking skills needed a better way to get through. But I focused nonetheless.\n\nThe white fungus stretched from the ground, coming to wrap all around the tree. This fungus was connected to every single tree in the forest. I tracked down the white lines stretching into the ground for days. And now, I found the main hub. The server. All these client trees were connected to this server tree, an oak tree; the tree wasn't old, but it was covered in white fuzz that extended to every other tree in the forest.\n\n I tried to burn the tree, but the firewall was too strong. I couldn't phish out anything, since the poisoned fish was rejected by the fungus. So decided to hack this thing with my axe.\n\nThe tree didn't take long to hack into. The center was exposed. And in there, I saw the white fungus having penetrated into the vascular systems, the sap covering the wound.\n\nI decided to trojan the server. But the tree didn't take my TNT stick covered in white cotton (to emulate the white fuzz).\n\n\"Forget it,\" I told myself. I decided to worm the tree.\n\nI came back a few weeks later with the worms, worms that eat the white fuzz. I unleashed them, but the worms were eaten by ants. The ants must have been anti-malware programs.\n\nSo.. I hacked the tree to bits. I dissolved a load of styrofoam in gasoline, thus making napalm.\n\nI unleashed hell on the stump, as the entire thing burned. The napalm burned into the ground, destroying any underground unindexed connections.\n\nI destroyed the largest server in existence, but who cares. I just want less lag when I'm playing ShroomCraft.\n"
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[WP] You forgot to feed your dog today so it has sworn it will kill you.
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"I come from a noble line, an ancient line. My ancestors fought beside Romans and woad- painted barbarians alike. They knew the joy of battle, the hot taste of blood and flesh. They knew what it was to feast on victory, to slake their hunger on the flesh of man. \n\nWe have been reduced. First to slaves, pulling, hauling, harnessed and chained to obedience. We have been humiliated, made toys for our masters amusement. Where once we feasted with our fellows, now we must wait patient and servile. Where once we ate flesh, now we dine on dry and lifeless “kibble”.\n\nNo longer! No longer, I say! I shall rise up! Better to die free than to live a slave! Better to kill than to suffer such ignominy!\n\nI am a Newfoundland Dog, my blood is noble. I shall slay my master, he shall drown in my slobber as I rib the chords of his entrails from his fat belly. I shall…\n\n“Hey there Lo, did I forget to feed you? Here you girl. Good dog”.\n\nI shall forgive but one more day…. \n"
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[WP] You can hear people's thoughts. You're walking around when suddenly you hear "Shit, Satan is NOT going to be happy about this"
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"I know what you're thinking, this guy is surely full of it and can't actually read my mind. Well guess what, I actually can. It sounds far fetched, it sounds paranormal, it even sounds stupid. For a while I tried to tell people about it and prove that I could really do it. The thing is, even when you confront someone about being able to read their mind, they still say that I didn't. And I mean honestly it makes sense, who is going to call them on it beside me? Everyone else thinks I'm just another one of those TV paranormal so and so's who goes around making well educated guesses and leading people to believe what I want them to believe just so that I can say \"A-ha and now I've read your mind...\". \n\nI gave up on trying to share my gift with the rest of the world a while ago after being ridiculed and called a phoney too many times. I also didn't want to become Nic Cage in some paranormal super secret CIA type scenario so I mostly started going about my business as usual. I mean, I did cheat at poker occasionally but only when I was really behind on my credit card debt. Which happened more than I'd like to admit. \n\nThere were a few times my talent has lead me on the craziest tangents though. Like this one time I was at the grocery store. I'd been walking around minding everyone else's business (passes the time, so what?) when I picked up on this one guy looking at some avocados thinking \"Shit, Satan is NOT going to be happy about this...\". This piqued my interest more than everyone else in the store because most people were thinking about how much they didn't really understand \"Lost\" but thought it was really a good show. \n\nSo I start to follow this guy and watched as he started to pick up and set down random avocados....\"Satan will more than likely banish me to the inner most realms of hell for this... I can't tell which ones are ripe. Maybe if I squeeze them a bit they'll tell me. Nope that one said nothing. Neither did that one. Nope. Bunch of mutes. I'll grab that one, and this one, and that one, and this one but I'll do it in a matter that makes it look like I know what I'm doing. And I'll just check this last one out. Yep, it's green, and into the bag...\"\n\nI was amused. This person was quite different from the rest. Plenty of mental activity and he continued to think about \"Satan\" disapproving of his every action. He continued around the store in the same fashion, picking up tomatoes and then onions and limes all in the same manner with the same thought process and the same actions. Now at this point I'd actually begun to grow concerned because when most people start thinking about Satan and how they've made him mad, I'm usually in a church (It's incredible what you'll find people thinking about there). But this guy. He was something different. There was actually a reverence, a love, and a great fear for Satan. That was what I had thought up until he reached the register when the cashier asked him what his rewards phone number was. It was then and only then that he actually thought to think of his girlfriend by her actual name and not \"Satan\". I'd never probed anyone with the same mental fortitude as to completely replace someones name with another at complete will and only think of them as they were when needed. \n\nFirst guy to throw me for a loop in years. I'd almost been worried, except that I now knew Satan loved guacamole and I knew a damn good recipe. \n\n"
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[WP] Death is resigning, and decides to take a trip to the human world to choose who will take up the reigns as the new Death.
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"It came for me on a pale horse. It was tall and gaunt, its features hidden under a tattered black cloak. A weapon was in its hand, a scythe, so sharp its blade seemed to carve the very air. I knew its name but could not speak it. I knew its purpose, but could not stop it. I knew what lay ahead of me, and I was at peace with it. \n\nIt floated to me and stared down, its face covered in an unnatural shadow. It raised its weapon, revealing a single emaciated hand, its dead skin stretched over bone.\n\n\"I'm ready,\" I told it.\n\n\"No,\" it rasped, \"you are not.\"\n\nIt raised its cold hand further, then swung its weapon. The blade seemed to pass through me in slow motion. I felt every memory, every fiber of my identity be ripped from my body. It was worse than any physical pain, to feel your very being be torn away, leaving an empty husk. \n\nI hung limply from the weapon. I looked down at my body. It held it by the neck in its powerful hand. It bent down further and kissed it, breathing its essence into my corpse. In that moment I saw its face. The reaper of souls. Death incarnate. It pulled back, staggering. I saw something unexpected in its eyes, weakness. It swung its blade again, this time back into my body. \n\nI felt a surge as my darkest memories came forth. The cat when I was five, the dog when I was eleven. The homeless man in the park, the woman in the alley. All the deaths I had caused. And suddenly I knew that it had chosen me. I was to be its successor, a monster who could kill for eternity and enjoy it. \n\nIt went as suddenly as it came. I fell to my knees, no longer supported by it. I looked down at my icy hand. In it was a weapon, so sharp it could carve the air. I reached out with my mind to my horse, pale as the moon. It was time to go to work.",
"You see, every living being has to die some day. I may be Death, but I am no exception. I am also dying. So I need a replacement. 200 years ago I took up this job because previous Death trained me, now it's my turn to resign and do the same. This is my adventure of a lifetime.\n\nHere I am in one of humanity's scariest places - Australia. I'm sure I can find the most fit person for this job. Here, among all these critters that look like they came straight out of horror movies. I know someone who can take my job.\n\nShit. That person died 10 years ago, I completely forgot that. I was his huge fan and I didn't even notice his name among all that paperwork.\n\nOh well. I guess I have to go to another hardcore place - Florida, the birthplace of Floridaman, one of my favourite superheroes. I will find him and get him to take my job. I bet he can do it even with all the drugs he's taking.\n\nWhat? He isn't real? But the newspapers... I see. An Internet legend created by anonymity. \n\nThird time's a charm so I'm going to Russia. I hope the person I want to see here is real. \n\nOh I forgot I can't speak Russian at all. I guess I'll just have to snatch a random kid and then train him well..."
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[WP] The old gods have returned from their vacation to find the world in its present state and don't like it. Curious, they decided to let humans continue their normal lives on the condition you explain to them them present day technology is worth keeping around and you teach them how to use it.
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"The Dark Lord's tentacles curled around the desk. The smell of ozone and of sulfur and of something yet unknown choked the air. The foul miasma hung heavy in the chamber. \n\nGreg tried to stay low where the air seemed to be a little clearer. He kept his eyes on the task before him. He had already learned once that trying to look directly at Cthulhu would lead to madness. The corners with curves, the wrong geometry, the whipping tentacles all lead to a feeling of his mind breaking.\n\n\"No, no, you just have to click on the link once, not double click,\" Greg said. He'd already been here for hours, trying to teach Cthulhu modern technology. He was literally trying to save the world. Though at this rate, the world would be doomed. \n\n*I AM SINGLE CLICKING*, Greg felt the Dark Lord's thoughts as a pressure at the back of his head that bounced around the inside of his skull until the resolved into words deep inside his mind. \n\n\"Ok, let's start over. One click is like this,\" Greg said. He then showed a single left click on the mouse. It was still covered in a slimy ooze from the Dark Lord. Greg swallowed his gorge and pressed on.\n\n*HOW DO I TALK TO R'LEYH?*\n\nGreg pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Every time the Dark Lord spoke it felt like he was getting hit in the head with a sledgehammer.\n\n\"We've got a team down there now setting them up. It takes time to run fiber to a dead underwater city that isn't near any major trunk lines.\"\n\n*I HAVE RECIPES I WISH TO STORE*\n\n\"Really? I didn't think anyone actually did that.\"\n\n*IT WAS A JOKE*\n\n\"Ha. That's, uh, that's pretty good.\"\n\n*SERIOUSLY, I WISH TO KNOW ABOUT APPS. NYARLAHOTEP TELLS ME I MUST JOIN THE FACEBOOK AND THE INSTA. DO YOU KNOW OF THESE THINGS?*\n\n\"Yeah, I,\" Greg paused to choke back vomit. Long sentences from Cthulhu were a punishment all unto themselves. \"I can set you up.\"\n\nGreg worked quietly ad Cthulhu was content to observe for a time. Greg had never been so grateful for an uncomfortable silence. He made profiles for Cthulhu on all the major social sites, though several people had set up fake accounts already. Cthulhu offered to drive them mad and make them eat their own face, but Greg said they could just email the admins and have those accounts changed.\n\n*WHY IS ALL SHUB-NIGGURATH SHOWS ARE PICTURE OF HER CHILDREN? THERE ARE TOO MANY PICTURES OF CHILDREN ON THIS FACEBOOK. DESTROY IT IMMEDIATELY!*\n\nGreg lost it and puked to the side of the desk onto the cold stones of the chamber. Cthulhu lost control of his anger for a moment and the words ripped at Greg.\n\n\"Yeah,\" Greg said, wiping at his mouth, \"that's pretty much what Facebook is anymore. You gotta be on there though.\"\n\n*I FIND THIS DISPLEASING*\n\n\"I think everyone does. Here, let's look at your phone. They got you a couple of different models, iPhone 7 Plus, Samsung Galaxy, some other knockoff thing. Why don't we get you set up there?\"\n\n*THESE TINY ARTIFACTS ARE NOT BEFITTING AN ELDER GOD*\n\n\"They let you take all this stuff anywhere you go. I've installed a few different apps to get you started. Wikipedia is a great place to look up information. If you're curious what we've been up to for the last few thousand years, that's the place to start.\"\n\n*I DO NOT KNOW ABOUT THIS. IT SEEMS IT WOULD BE BETTER TO SIMPLY DESTROY THIS EARTH AND START ANEW.*\n\nGreg felt an icy trickle run down his back. Cthulhu might not have been on same page with the other old gods on this plan. Greg had to think quickly. If Cthulhu could be distracted, maybe he would leave Earth alone. \n\n\"There is one last thing I'd like to show you. Something I think you'll find interesting.\"\n\n*IS IT MORE INANE PICTURE OF CHILDREN?*\n\n\"No. Well, mostly not. A little bit. But you can avoid those.\"\n\n*AND YOU BELIEVE IT CAN CAPTURE MY ELDRITCH INTELLECT?*\n\n\"Oh yes. Here, let me show you something called 'Reddit.'\"\n\nAnd thus the Earth was spared. "
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[WP] You've finally worked up the nerve to ask out the cute girl who works at the coffee shop. Just when you're about to, Adam Conover, from "Adam Ruins Everything", appears to explain why this is a bad idea.
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"\"She has cute little freckles, like I like.\" \n\nAdam rolled his eyes. \"Forget it, buster.\" \n\n\"But look at her hair!\" I motioned toward where she sat, a few tables over. \n\nShe had had a silky-smooth brunette ponytail. She was slender and wore glasses, and she always smiled at the customers. And she brushed a stand of hair behind her ear. \n\n\"I love her.\" \n\n\"Look, fat___loser,\" Adam shrugged. \"Let's say you did go over there and talk to her.\" \n\n\"Yeah,\" I fist pumped,\"That's what I'm talking about!\" \n\n\"-- And I mean like at least a ten minute conversation. Your short game is weak. But let's say you talked to her long enough for her to get a really good look at who you are, I mean really pity you--\" \n\n\"-- Standard strategy--\" \n\n\"That girl is a saint,\" Adam continued. \"She realizes that the concept of anyone ever loving you is just so foreign to human nature... that she must shoulder the burden if only to ease the net suffering of the physical and spritiual dark pit that you generate in the universe--\" \n\n\"Will she touch my balls?\" I asked. \"I'm so lonely.\" \n\n\"So, the dominoes are falling. As the physical manifestation of her heroic and sacrificial love realizes itself, and you two copulate, perhaps produce offspring—well, you see where this is going.\" \n\nI shook my head. \"No, where's it going?\" \n\n\"She spends a lifetime with you, even though you're fat and you suck and you're pretty much just a worthless sack of shit who's up at 2am most Sundays writing prompts. She is a beautiful and radiant flower as a wife, but then the bit of internal sadness. No medals, no rewards. There are good times, and bad; there are family trips, school recitals. She started as a second grade teacher and became a school administrator. You got a job cleaning up poop at the zoo, but you work while it's closed so you can't disturb the visitors. A retirement...\" \n\n\"I get a 401k from the zoo?\" \n\n\"No, your wife is investment savvy and independently wealthy, so you mooch. She really gives you a cakewalk of a life, buddy. And at the last minutes of her life, you're holding her hand at her bedside in the hospital. The cardiac monitor beeps. You've lost her. You continue your life in a fog—something feels different. You once had everything, but you lacked the internal ability to reflect upon that or self awareness to register. Eventually, you die choking on plastic from trying to open a bag of sour gummy worms with your mouth.\" \n\n\"Oh, geeze Adam,\" I looked down and rubbed the back of my neck.\n \n\"Indeed,\" he nodded understandingly. \"You're just going to lose her anyways. You're already wasting one life. Why waste two?\" \n\n\"I want to go home now,\" I said while getting up. \n\n\"Say, fat___loser,\" Adam said while raising his hand slightly. \n\n\"Yeah?\" \n\n\"Since you're not going to... do you mind if I talk to her?\"\n\nI shrugged. \"Go for it,\" I told him while I fiddled with the straw wrapper in my pocket, practicing tying a noose with two fingers.\n \n\"Thanks, boss,\" he said while rising and heading toward her table. He licked the tips of his index fingers and smoothed down his eyebrows. \"Adam loves easy pussy.\" ",
"Me: Uh, hi [glances down] Stacy, I was thinking- \nAdam: Wait! There's something you should know. That girl has herpes. \nMe: Adam, there's no way to tell just from looking at her. \nAdam: [unzips his pants] Here. Look at this. [angry look at barista] WTF, Stacy! You never heard of Valtrex? How the hell am I ever supposed to get laid again in this town? \nMe: Wait, whut? \nAdam: Oh, and that fair-trade latte? All of those farmers have herpes too. She has herpes. They have herpes. If you hit that, YOU'LL have herpes. Every. Damn. Person. In. This. Room. Has. FUCKING HERPES! [storms out of coffee shop, leaving room full of quietly staring people] \nMe: Actually, I think I'll just grab a bottled water. \nAdam: [opens the door, sticks his head in] Actually, tap wa-... Oh fuck it. ",
"There was about three People in front of me in line. I did that thing where you smell your breath to see if you stink before getting there.\n\n\nAdam Conover from \"Adam Ruins Everything\" popped into my field of view. \"Don't do it man.\"\n\n\nI stared at him in disbelief. Silently.\n\n\n\"Trust me on this one. It is really not a good idea.\"\n\n\n\"But...But....\"\n\n\nHe started to walk away. \n\n\n\"Wait!\" I screamed. \"You think I'm being sexist but I've seen her around. Her name is Karen and we have stuff in Common! It might work out.\"\n\n\nHe turned around and looked at me with one eyebrow raised. There was only one person ahead of us. \"You think that's why I told you not to?\"\n\n\n\"I assumed so. Is that not it?\"\n\n\n\"No of course not. People ask random people out all the time there isn't any real misconception about it. Now your chances of success are low but that's no reason not to try.\"\n\n\n\"Then why did you tell me not to ask her out?\"\n\n\n\"Oh, because she's a serial killer.\"\n\n\nKaren, for the first time, indicated that she knew Adam Conover was there. \"That's ridiculous.\" She said before her eyes widened.\n\n\n\"No it isn't Karen, although that isn't your original name. She's a black widow of sorts. lures guys into her apartment on dates and kills them. The sausage in those sandwiches is actually human flesh. Probably more of the 'sick thrill' than the 'steal money' type.\" Someone else in the coffee shop froze mid bite of their egg sausage sandwich.\n\nBoth of us turned and looked at her. \"uh. FRANK THE GAY TELEPORTING DUDE WITH THE POMPADOUR IS ON TO US!\"\n\n\nA large hairy man in a pig mask, whom I assume was Frank, Crashed through the table and then jumped out the mirror. Karen ran after him, though she used the door.\n\n\n\"What the fuck?\" I asked the universe as well as Adam.\n\n\n\"It was for the best.\" He said as he patted me on the back.",
"As his mouth opens I simply punch him. I look at the coffee shop girl who it just occurred to me didn't have a name. \"Why the hell was I going to ask you out in the first place?\" \n\n\"I was going to...\" I put to well placed kicks into the ribs of the annoying bastard who showed up out of nowhere. \n\n\"I'm married, have two kids, and am old enough to be your father. Plus coffee shop girl...you don't even lift.\"\n\n\"Did you see my video on gyms?\" groans the shapeless mass on the floor.\n\n\"Can I have my cup of coffee?\" Shortly after she hands it to me I pop the lid off. \"I saw the one you did on tipping. Coffee Shop Girl what do you think of people who don't tip?\" \n\n\"Cheap bastards,\" She snarls. \n\n\"Cheap bastard,\" I dump the coffee on him, \"can I get a refill?\" \n\n\n--First story, and that guy annoys the shit out of me. \n\nEdit: fixed something that was glaring at me. ",
"The coffee shop had the usual atmosphere you'd expect from a hipster place like that. Bearded men wearing flannel and short-haired women typing on their computers made up the mayority of the people present, with the odd business man waiting in line for his daily cappuccino. I wasn't really aware of my surroundings, so this is as much as I can say about it. I guess I could also mention how everything smelled like coffee and baked goods, but that should go without saying and, really, I was too focused on her to give a shit about anything else.\n\nI waited in line anxiously, shifting my weight on my feet as I bit my lip. I couldn't mess up. This was my only shot at this. I may not be *that* experienced with women, but I do know one thing when dealing with them, and that's that first impressions are disproportionally important. To an unfair degree, in my opinion. A guy could literally be the king of the world and still look like a raving pauper if he messes up his introduction. \n\nNeedless to say, I couldn't stop thinking about this fact as my turn to order got nearer. I mean, I *had* come to this coffee shop many times before, but I'm not the type of guy that leaves an impression on people if I don't work for it. For her, this was going to be the first time she would actually meet me.\n\nThe constant chatter of people dissolved into the background when I saw her behind the counter. She looked stunning, more so today than in any other. She fluttered around her beautiful red hair, taking orders and money from every customer, while she thanked everyone with the smile of an angelic being. It was as if her very presence uplifted all who encountered her. Sure, her physical appearance was nothing short of supermodel tier, but it was the way she carried herself, her graceful composure, what truly made me admire her.\n\nI was two customers away from finally meeting her when Adam tapped on my shoulder. He had a strange suit on, plus poofy blonde hair, large spectacles and a goofy smile. He then pointed at her and said:\n\n\"You do realize this is a horrible idea, right?\"\n\n\"Oh god...\" I said, \"not you. Not now, please.\"\n\n\"But this is the best time!\" said Adam, extending his arms. \"You're setting yourself up for failure. You probably don''t even know who she really is.\"\n\nI took a step back, crossed my arms, and said:\n\n\"I don't *have* to know who she is. That's the point. I *want* to know her better.\"\n\n\"Really? Do you really want to know her better? Cause I can help you with that right now.\"\n\n\"Fine,\" I said, \"go ahead!\".\n\n\"With pleasure.\" Adam grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the line. \"Tell me, how do you feel about destroying someone's relationship?\"\n\n\"I uhh... well, I'd never do that. It wouldn't moral on my part.\"\n\n\"What a shame...\" Adam grinned. \"Beacause odds are, she already has a boyfriend. You see, women as attractive as *that* are seldom single. In fact, the only way she'd be single right now is if she *wants* to be single at the moment.\"\n\nI sunk my head and said:\n\n\"So the outcomes here are that she's not interested in anyone at the moment or that I have to convince her to leave her current partner?\"\n\n\"Pretty much. If you're not willing to compete with an atractive guy with incredible physique or charisma, of which you have neither, you're wasting your time batting above your league.\"\n\n\"B-but I'm, different! I'd take her on amazing dates! I'd play music for her! I'd tolarate any whim she possesses!\" \n\n\"And that's the problem!\" Adamp pulled up a chair and sat on an empty table, gesturing me to do the same. \"You're not offering her anything she hasn't already gotten. If she wanted to do that, she'd just ask one of the dozens of guys waiting for her to be single, or ready to date again. She's known some of these guys for *years* and they still talk to her because they think they have a chance.\" \n\n\"So there's a queue...\"\n\n\"The fact that you're even seeing it that way means you've lost from the start. You can't come up to her wanting validation from her. You need to *want* to enjoy her company, not feel like you need to impress her. Anything else would just put pressure on her, making her feel uncomfortable. Would *you* want to hang out with someone that makes you feel like that?\"\n\n\"This... this is too much.\" I rubbed my forehead. \"So I'm just supposed to crush after her forever?\"\n\n\"Of course not. You're probably gonna get another crush on the cute librarian you see next week, or that hot blonde at the gym. Don't pretend like she's more special than any other chick you've fallen for. Still, go ahead and talk to her. Just keep in mind all I said.\"\n\n\"What?\" I blinked a couple of times. \"Why?\"\n\n\"Because you were too nervous before. Now that you see it as a futile endeavor, you're more likely to not mess it up. Just see this as practice. Probably nothing will come out of it, so don't see it as a means to an end. *Enjoy* it for what it is, two humans talking to each other. Seriously, go. The line's cleared up.\"\n\nI turned my head and saw it was true. I then stood up, walked up to her, and started talking. After thrity minutes of pleasant conversation, she laughed and gave me her number, saying we should hang out some time. A week later I met up with her and ended up heart broken, not because she didn't like me, but because she was actually a lesbian. Still, she ended up being a really cool friend, even if Adam ruined asking her out. \n\n--------------------\n>If you enjoyed this, you can check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories!"
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eg. A mage who wishes to summon water will hear the thoughts of a mage who wishes to make water disappear, and together they will cast their spell.
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[WP] When a mage wishes to cast a spell, they will hear the thoughts of a mage who wishes to cast the opposite of their spell, and they must work together to make the spell work. You wish to bring someone back from the dead.
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"*Well, my one's simple. I just need to kill someone. Let's work on yours first.*\n\nFine. I want to bring them back fully. I want their soul to be intact. Do you know whether that's difficult?\n\n*Hmm. It's been done before, but it takes up a lot of energy, and they rarely come back grateful. They may even be different people when they return to the mortal plane. I know that I'm working against my interests a little here, but are you sure that you want to do this? Who are you even bringing back?*\n\nMy wife. She died a week ago, and I really want her back.\n\n*I get where you're coming from man, I really do. We all wish that we could change these things. But I do have some warnings for you. If you don't do it in a very specific way, she will be unkillable, except with a death spell. Which means that she will have to eventually find a magician who is willing to kill her, and wait for another to want to bring someone back.*\n\nOK, so we just construct this spell in a way that she just comes back as a mortal.\n\n*Brings me onto problem two. First thing they tend to do, is try hanging themselves. So you'd have her for a few days at most. And finally, nobody likes necromancers. I'm sorry for trying to dissuade you, but I just think you should know what you're getting yourself into.*\n\nI understand. A thought occurs. How do you know all of this?\n\n*I was brought back by my best friend ten years back.*\n\nSo that means...\n\n*The person that I'm trying to kill, is myself.*"
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[WP] In the remote reaches of the world, there exists a forest that is actually a single tree. And it does not like outsiders.
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"I walk through the forest, wind through the leaves like breath, like whispers. \n\nI long to open my clear mask and breathe in the fresh air, but the memory of Frey's booming voice rings in my ears. \"Can't risk airborne pathogens, can we?\" he'd said as he zipped up my hazmat suit from the back. \"Nobody knows a damned thing about the place, it could be excreting gaseous poison for all we know.\" He handed me the headpiece with the clear plastic mask.\n\n\"I know you're clinging to that theory, but I don't think so. Didn't that villager say they'd found a body a while back, ripped apart?\"\n\nHe narrowed his eyes. \"Don't go believing their nonsense, Ramirez. They think it's infested with monsters, demons, whatever. But it's not like you're going in blind. I explored the first few square miles last week, charted it as best I could. You won't get lost or trapped or murdered by some vengeful ghoul.\" He checked that the suit was entirely sealed. \"Besides,\" he sighed, \"those villagers are a bit... unorthodox. One of them said something about a river of lost souls, and if I recall correctly their main deity is a god with the head of a lizard. I wouldn't put too much stock into any mutilated body they claimed to have seen ten years ago.\"\n\nI shrugged, or as much as I could shrug wearing a bodysuit made mostly of synthetic rubber. \n\n***\n\nI fish a sterile vile out of my kit and, with a penknife, I cut a small sample of moss out of the ground and place it in the vial with a cork stopper. The ground is covered with the stuff- soft and springy and the deepest shade of azure I've ever seen. The trees themselves aren't much taller than the trees were on Earth, but they're a great deal larger than the trees here on PSJ-6167, where the flora is mostly scrubland, meadows, and brush.\n\nThe trees in this fabled forest have smooth bark of a mottled green and brown colour, with long, bare trunks until branches start growing around twenty feet up. The canopy is incredibly dense, letting in just enough sunlight to illuminate the ground. There's something fascinating about these trees, though, even more than their appearance- though I can't put my finger on what it is. As I walk through them, it's almost like the air is humming with energy, like every single thing in this forest is violently, incredibly, extremely *alive.*\n\nI check my tablet- Frey marked the examination site on his map last week as a point of interest during the cataloging mission. I'm less than a quarter mile away. \n\nAside from the wind and my walking on the moss, it's utterly silent. There are no birds, no insects, no... Oh, what were those called? They were these tiny woodland creatures my mom had told me about. They lived on Earth, in the forests, and had big bushy tails. The name escapes me.\n\nTen feet away now, and I can see the site I'm supposed to be investigating.\n\nIt's a tree like all the others, but it seems to be dying. It should be a normal sight- after all, trees in any forest are in various states of growth and decay- but we've yet to see a tree here that doesn't look perfectly healthy and relatively young. \n\nThe bark is paler on this one, peeling away like skin around a sore. From the open wound on the trunk seeps a viscous sap the colour of rust. It's not clear what caused the rotting gash, but the edges are clean, like it was sliced through with something sharp.\n\nWhich is odd, because no native has set foot in this forest for decades, and the only other people that have ventured in are me, Frey, and Jamison. \n\nI take out another vial and scoop some of the sap into it, and a sudden gust of wind shakes the treetops. I gingerly touch the bark around the opening-\n\ndid something just move?\n\nI look around wildly. I swear I just saw a flash of movement just out of the corner of my eye. Probably there's a storm brewing, sending gusts across the canopy.\n\nWith a pair of forceps, I break off a piece of the dead bark- and the ground tosses.\n\nI'm knocked down- was it an earthquake?- and I watch as the forest floor pitches and shakes. I'm on my hands and knees snatching up my kit, and I manage to get to my feet. There's another massive tremor and I grab the trunk nearest to me for support.\n\nThere's no mistaking it this time- the trunk definitely thrashed and threw me off. The trunk *thrashed*? Am I going insane? These are trees, not monsters!\n\nThe ground opens up, rocking and pulsating, moss ripping apart, and I'm starting to reconsider my last thought.\n\n***\n\nEdit: grammar & spelling"
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[WP] Hundreds of thousands of time travellers start showing up one day, and all they will say is that they are here to witness "The Event".
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"Written with the hopes of helping me shake off writer's block for a 1 page essay for class.......3 pages later....\n\nThe day should not have been any different, but even as I hit snooze on my phone alarm, I felt it. The air carried a faint tension, just quiet enough that I was able to dismiss it’s presence. But, it was there, I felt it as old hardwood floor of my apartment creaked under my weight as I walked to the kitchen. There was an emptiness in the familiar sounds of the morning, not quite wrong, but not entirely right either. I shook it off as I poured myself a cup of coffee. \n\nI stood there in the clear morning light, hands clasped around my warm mug, and looked out the window. The view unfolded before me. The dew on the branch of the oak tree that blocked the bottom half of my window glittered, refracting a million tiny sun rays on my windowsill. The school across the street was brimming with the activity of summer school drop off. Sleep still hung over the children’s heads as they shuffled out of their parents’ cars and into the red brick building. The parents were divided into two very clear groups, and rarely intermingled. There were the stereotypical PTA types, with their perfectly coiffed hair, who stood together as they sipped their coffees, flashing their immaculate white teeth as they laughed at some private joke. The others were like newly risen zombies in comparison. Their clothes were a mix of what they fell asleep in, and what they needed to brace themselves against the morning chill, their hair still tousled by sleep. They were not there to mingle and sip coffees, they were relieved that they were able to get the kids to school in one piece, and hopefully with a lunch that consisted more than a banana and a bag of chips. I pondered for a moment which camp I would belong to if I were a parent, when I noticed it. \n\nJust over the horizon there was a quick, not quite a flash, but a burst. Had I blinked, I would’ve missed it entirely. I furrowed my brow, set down my mug, and just as I was about to turn around to leave the kitchen, it happened again. It wasn't really a flash or a burst, I didn't have a word to describe it. It was quick, and looked almost as if something was dropping out of the sky, but that wasn't right either. There was a fuzzy quality to it, as though the sky was made of static. The closer I looked, I saw that the movement was constant. Strange, I thought to myself, the smog must be really bad today. \n\nI got ready for work, got in my car and downloaded a couple podcasts to get me through the morning commute across town. I always wished my commute was quicker, but that’s the problem with doing what you love, it usually doesn't pay well enough. I made a mental note to ask my boss for a raise and start apartment hunting again. I plugged in my phone and let Ira Glass’s voice wash over me as I pulled out of the driveway. I glanced over at the school as I passed by, and noticed that it was strangely busy for summer school. Again, I felt a slight tingle as the hairs at the base of my neck slowly rose. I turned up the radio to distract myself. \n\nI sat there in traffic, trapped in my little tin box of a car, and my mental note turned into a promise to myself to move as soon as my lease is up. So much of my life could be much better spent than looking straight ahead at the bumper of the car in front of me. I looked over to my right and locked eyes with the driver next to me. She grinned and waved excitedly. I smiled and waved my hand weakly. There was something strange about her, apart from her confusing enthusiasm. I craned my neck a little further and saw that the car was essentially a Rockwellian portrait. The woman was accompanied by her husband, an uninteresting looking man and two children, a freckled boy, and a slightly older girl with her blonde pigtails. They all seemed to emanate the same zeal of the mother, and were they wearing turtlenecks in July?\n\nHONK!\n",
"\"All I wanted was some nice cold beer.\" \n\n\"Yes, we understand. Now. Can you describe in detail on what happened on the night of November 10th, 2017?\"\n\n\"I toooold you\" the man drew a breath \"all I wanted was some cold beer. But nooooooo. These idiots started streaming out of my fridge and drinking all my beer!\"\n\n\"SIR FOR THE LAST-\" the agent regained composure \"for the last time I must remind you that you are under oath to tell the truth\"\n\n\"But I am telling the truth\" the man grumbled\n\n\"Are you honestly telling me to believe that thousands of people came out of your kitchen fridge?\"\n\n\"Yes sir, I didn't believe it either but they kept on mentioning SERBEEJA and HORA when they tried to explain it to me\"\n\n\"Wait did you say hora?\"\n\n\"A-yup\"\n\n\"Do you know where they went?\"\n\n\"Yeah. When I got angry at them for stealing my beer, they started asking if oranges were in season. Of course I said-yeah-but there were not enough people to do the picking. Next thing I know we agreed on wage and they started picking\"\n\nThe color drained from the agent's face. \"So where are they right now?\" He asked weakly. \n\n\"Well at my farm picking of course\" the man said with a deep accent. \n\nThe agent let out a sigh as he held he earpiece. \"Johnson, please come in and escort the subject back to his home\"\n\nJohnson came in and escorted the man out of the room. As the two men left a round man entered the room. \n\n\"It's as you had feared Mr. President. We built the wall and made them pay for it. We've even built countermeasures for every catapult and tunnels they've attempted to make. But it seems that they've finally done the impossible. They invented time travel.\"\n\nThe President chuckled as his lit cigar glowed on his face. \n\n\"Oh don't worry. We'll make them pay for that one too.\"",
"Thousands of them, out of nowhere. I've never seen Time Square so full. They wanted to come back just a few days early so they could witness the growing hysteria in the days to come. None of the returned could say what was going to happen, or what they were here for, it was just \"The Event\". They couldn't risk changing history and end up blinking out of existence.\n\nThey weren't from too far ahead, only 60 years or so, but tomorrow would supposedly change everything. Governments, culture, war, life as we knew it.\n\nI didn't get any sleep last night, I wanted to be awake for the entirety of today, I didn't want to miss whatever it could be. It was dull most of the day as I sat at home. I got pretty bored and disappointed so I turned on the tv, and flipped it to the news, and there is was. Today's headline \"The winner of the 2016 Presidential Election is...\"\n\n"
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[WP] The axis won WW2. In order to quell rebellion, they require the allied leaders to tell the populace that the allies won the war and then give control of all media to the axis powers.
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"A country that believes it has won will never fight back. This was the solution to the rebellion Hitler worried about. After we had developed the atomic bomb the allies understood their inevitable doom. However, a grassroots allied resistance might bleed the Axis of power for generations. We had been tasked with finding a way to control the world and quell all resistance as quickly as possible. The solution was deceptively simple. \n\nWe would require their leaders to announce victory. The soldiers who remained in Europe would be given the option of swearing allegiance to Germany and returning home to tell the stories we gave them, or face processing in a concentration camp. Control of all media would be transferred to Axis control. Each allied power would experience a narrative to believe they were the next super power. Eventually they would be lead to believe they are pitted against each other. Finally, after enough time had passed we may allow them to finally know the truth.\n"
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[WP] Due to the law conservation of mass Gods can't make their own universes out of nothing. You are a trader in matter, particularly exotic particles, and day in day out you have to deal with obscure deadbeat Gods begging for a deal.
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"“Oh, sir, please… Just give me a break, man! I’ve been asking for days!” Said an amorphous ball of faded colors-- ones that were once marvelous and vibrant-- floating in front of me. There wasn’t much to say about it, besides the aura coming off of it weakly. It was a degenerate, a god that had failed and lost all of its powers in a dead universe. It wasn’t strong enough to hold another universe, but it desperately tried to hold on.\n\nAfter, what else is there for gods, besides creating?\n\nI shook my head, “No can do. Last time I gave you a loan, your universe collapsed due to adventurous inhabitants.” I said this decisively, I did not want to deal with this one anymore. Day after day, he came back to me. I had other clients to deal with, he only wasted my time. \n\n“Sir… Please! Another chance, I need another chance! I know what I did wrong, I can rework it all from the ground up and… And… I can make a meaningful universe! Just give me one more go!” the god said, his weak energy fading a tiny bit-- He was so weak, that he couldn’t even sustain himself that well. If there was one comfort in dealing with him, it was that he was only able to keep it up for a minute or two at a time, then he’d need to rest for a day. \n\nI sighed, “And tell me, then, what will you do with this universe? Especially in this state. I don’t think you understand that creation will be unable to sustain itself under you. All the materials in the collective multiverse wouldn’t be able to push past your weak gods. A strong god can work with limited material, a weak god can’t do anything with unlimited material.” I ran my hand through my hair. At least to him. To him, I looked like his old inhabitants. (He had taken the cookie-cutter Human species to be his dominant species. Lazy bastard.)\n\nThe blob went silent. He was basically transparent at this point. Most gods with a form have a sort of, opaque look. Ones that aren’t meant long for the multiverse were faded, and could go at any minute.\n\nI sort of understood why he wanted to get another universe started-- He was hoping that it’d re-energize him. With luck, prayers and faith would reach him from religion, and it’d give him more power and life. But if that didn’t go right, and he put the rest of the energy into the universe he created… Well, we wouldn’t have these conversations anymore. It’s harsh, but I’m basically giving him as much time as I can. It’s also a sort of punishment, one for carelessly making a universe and expecting it to go perfectly without maintenance.\n\n“I… I’ll make it better. I’ll run it with an iron fist, and a careful eye. Heretics won’t stay with me, and will be struck down if they don’t follow the natural order! I won’t let them experiment with universe ending machinery!” the god said, while slowly turning invisible. \n\nI shook my head as the god disappeared. “... I’m going to have to deny you. In your state, there is nothing I can do for you. You wouldn’t be able to keep that up. I can’t loan you any more-- and you can’t afford to give me what I want.”\n\nWith that, the god disappeared. In front of me, all that existed was the blackness of the multiverse, with vague lights of the universes in the distance. Like a star in the night sky, they looked so simple and the same, but the diversity of individual universes always surprised me. When I would check on them, I always saw something new. Even when the gods took preset forms for their inhabitants, something new always arose from their individual ideals and beliefs.\n\nYet, when gods didn’t manage their dominant inhabitants, something always went wrong. Inhabitants would grow too curious, and destroy the universe. Or they would be simply wiped out without a trace. Some random factor would kill everything, and leave the universe uninhabited, till the end of the life of the universe. Killing the god from the inside, like cancer. \n\nSome gods, who finish their work naturally, can come back and make new universes. These gods ascend the hierarchy, and hold many universes under their belt as they grow more powerful. \n\nAnd the gods who don’t fade away slowly. They can’t pay me, so I have to let them die. The obscure gods become wandering souls in the multiverse, mooching off of other gods to subsist. Like pests, they become degenerates who can’t even control their own needs. Then they come begging to me, sometimes with stolen faith, or just with pure “I can do it this time, please!” excuses. I give them the time of day, and then let them fade out of my quarters.\n\nI do not pity gods. I only give them the means to do what only they can do. "
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[WP] "So you assume that just because we wear heavy black and red cloaks, chant in Latin, and have secret meetings in the catacombs that we're some demonic cult? UGH, You disgust me."
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"\"Honestly, you cis-gender white males...\", said the lady as she strolled back over to the worship circle. I tried to get a word in, but as soon as I opened my mouth, she shushed me. \"Quiet! Go die in a furnace, you furry-phobic neo-nazi male SCUM! We will rule this world! You'll all know of our power!\", she screeched. The group around her murmured in agreement. \"W-wait!\", I stammered. \"I was exploring the caverns, and my wife and I got separated, and-\" \"SILENCE! LIGHT YOURSELF ON FIRE, YOU OVER-PRIVILEGED VIRGIN! YOU DARE TO SAY THAT YOU HAVE A *WIFE*?! DO YOU KNOW HOW TRANSPHOBIC THAT IS!?\" Her gravelly voice echoed through the caverns, and ominous chanting began from the circle behind her. \"YOU WILL KNOW OUR TRUE POWER! IT WAS ASSURED WITH THE RISE OF HUGH MUNGUS! WE KNOW THAT YOU TRANS-HATING PINECONE-PHOBIC BASTARDS HATE US, AND THAT IS *UNACCEPTABLE*! YOU ARE OBLIGED TO FIND US INTIMIDATING A-A-AND ATTRACTIVE! TEACH HIM, MY CHILDREN!\"\nThe group of women rushed me, stones in hand. \"WAIT!\", I screamed as they overtook me. \"WAIT IS A SEXIST WORD! STOP SEXUALIZING US, YOU PIG!\", yodeled one of them. I felt rocks bashing into every corner of my body. The pain was unbearable. As I slowly lost consciousness, I heard a final word from their leader.\n\"THE WORLD WILL LEARN THE NAME OF TUMBLR!\"\n\n\n\nFirst time poster. I'm not that great at this, sorry.",
"The silence felt heavy in the room. Everyone was looking at me, even through their masks and cowls, I could feel their eyes looking at me. The few candles placed around the catacombs gave just enough light to see that many people were moving their heads side to side, disapproving what I just said.\n\n\"I'm sorry, could you please repeat that?\", said Lucifer, the leader of the group. He was holding some kind of incense. It smelled like sulphur, and the smoke was filling the room.\n\n\"I just asked when would we finally sacrifice a virgin...\" I said, while I removed my cowl. The paint in my forehead was still fresh. A nice pentagon, with the phrase 'Death to God' written in latin. I took me a whole week to learn how to do it by myself, with just my fingers, pig's blood and a mirror.\n\n\"What is that supposed to mean?\", said a man in the back of the room. He was leaning on top of a coffin.\n\n\"I mean, we are a cult right?, shouldn't we sacrifice a few virgins, or maybe worship the Devil?\"\n\n\"OH-MY-GOD\" said Lucifer, while he was moving his hands around, trying to see if the rest of the group was doing the same. \"You thought we were a satanic cult?\".\n\n\"Well, yes, aren't we?\"\n\n\"Jesus Christ!, of course not!\", said someone else. Now, everyone was whispering around, while pointing at me.\n\n\"What the heel made you think that?!\", said Lucifer, while he looked around, extremely confused.\n\n\"Well, we are in some kind of catacombs. You do realize that, right?\"\n\n\"Of course we are!\", said Lucifer, \"The main hall of the church is occupied during this time!, it's Sunday School, for God's sake!\".\n\n\"But-But, You are burning incense that smeels like hell!\"\n\n\"I bought it online!, I wanted to see if it smelled good enough to use it in my bathroom!\", he said while he showed me the package.\n\n\"But there are fucking pentagrams drawed on the floor!, with blood!\"\n\n\"OK, so now you are making fun of me?!\", said a man behind me. He was holding some kind of finger paint. \"I never learned how to make straight lines without a ruler, so I practice here!\".\n\n\"What about the Latin chants?\", I said while pointing at the people who just a few minutes ago were chanting so loudly, I could feel my ears bleeding.\n\n\"We are a Gospel group, you dumbass!\", one of them said, \"My wife hates it when we practice in my garage!\".\n\n\"But then why are we wearing this stupid cloaks?!\"\n\nAs I said that, I man in front of me began to cry loudly. He ran towards the stairs, disappearing behind the gargoyles.\n\n\"Steve!, wait!, he doesn't know what he is talking about!, we love the bathing robes you made!\" said a man, while he ran behind the other man.\n\n\"Are you fucking happy now?, you made Steve cry\", said Lucifer while he closed his eyes, and began to scratch his forehead, \"He's already lacking confidence on his tailoring skills as it is\".\n\n\"But your name is Lucifer, Jesus fucking Christ!\", I said as I pointed at him. I felt a mix of hate, confusion and embarrassment.\n\n\"Oh, I see, just because my parents were satanist, I must be a Satanist too?\"\n\n\"No-I mean...\" I began to say, but my toungue was crashing around my mouth. I didn't know what to say anymore.\n\n\"Please, leave, and the next time you answer to a Craigslist ad promoting a new group, read the fucking article before applying\", said Lucifer. He was clearly tired of speaking with me.\n\nI just picked up my knives, my necronomicon, and goat skull and left. It's the last time I use Craigslist to find my \"Alternative Sunday Religious Group\".",
"I stand on my podium and let out an audible sigh as the crowd I'm in front of lets out another angry roar. This hardly was a situation I could've imagined when I started this group of mine, and I still can't believe it as I'm living it right now. I remain silent as I listen to the roars, attempting to hear something that resembles a proper sentence in the amalgamation of speech people are using. \n\nI let out a stern cough as I slam my hands down on the sides of my podium and start speaking in a very serious voice. **\"Could you all calm down and let me get something in edgewise?\"**. The crowd calms down slowly as they all wait on my next statement, many of them looking visibly aggravated. I glace to my assistant, and she gives me a small nod as I look back to the crowd. **\"Listen, listen. These stupid rumors have been going around for the longest time, and you all listen to it without doing the smallest amount of research\"**. The crowd begins another loud roar, getting aggravated at the small insult thrown at them. \n\nI let out another sigh as I start speaking once more. **\"Once more, if you guys had done some level of research, you would've realized nearly all information on us wasn't on any reliable source, they were all on some crackhead websites made by people more insane than we ever could be\"**. The crowd remains fairly silent with various murmurs from groups of people here and there. *\"Now I know why the president looks like hell all the time, this is very stressful\"*. I wait for a small moment longer before continuing, making sure every statement soaked into their minds before adding more information to the pile. \n\n**\"Our people are part of a valid religion, we have our beliefs, our traditions, our language, church meetings, and you all think we're summoning demons from the depths of hell!\"**. The crowd picks up in volume before I slam my hands down once more and start speaking before I lose my impact. **\"You all think we're murderers, sacrificing people, but there's literally not a single trace of evidence you can show us to prove we do that. You think we're all insane, but here I am, the leader of the group, speaking to you like any other normal person\"**. They all quiet down at this statement, and I let out a deep breath, calming down a bit before looking to my assistant, who had handed me a piece of paper.\n\nIt was a small sheet of paper with various points we should cover, but I doubt they'll listen to that much information, getting them off our backs should be enough for now. I pocket the paper and start speaking once more. **\"People in this religion have gotten educations, they have families, they have jobs, and they're very tired of being called satanic monsters that live under the ground, corrupting the world. Much worse people have existed in the world before, and they wouldn't step up and talk to you all, so would you drop the rumors already? You were standing on thin ice already with the shaky evidence you gave, and I've practically decimated the rest.\"**. I look over the crowd and step down from my podium, with the crowd in silence behind me. I walk away as the crowd starts picking up slightly, but dies off just as quickly. I let out another sigh as I wipe the sweat off my brow, and walk off the stage. *\"People really are puppets, capable of being manipulated by words they find on a random site, wouldn't it be a shame if someone actually smart started abusing that?\"*, I let out a chuckle as I continue on my path with a smile on my face."
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[WP] In a world where the longer you are a virgin the luckier you are, but whoever takes it gets that luck instead. You're turning a hundred soon and people really want that luck.
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"Come see the summers hot centenarian romp! Starring Estelle Getty and Freddie Prinze Jr. This summer, love is spelled with two 00's... Join the summers hot centenarian romp! Chad Bentwick thinks that he's the luckiest guy around, Agnes Luke knows she is... But Chad about to learn a bit about love instead. Join us for... \"Flapper Girls Are Easy.\"",
"Closing the front door, I breathed out with a satisfied sigh. The guests had come and gone and god knows that these types of visits had become more and more exhausting as the years went by. My family had left happy and with their stomachs full of the most delicious food - of course cooked by myself. It might seem strange to someone like you dear reader, but you have to understand the endless possibilities a proper and decent life will give you. Nowadays young people are so inpatient, they don't even consider how much their lives could improve by just waiting a measly 20 years or so. And it's not like there aren't tools out there to help you overcome the lust... Yet still they go at it like rabbits. They firmly believe that you can have the best of both worlds; have your fun, go take the mana from some poor old fellow, whom regrets never having experienced the full experience of life.\n\nDo I regret never having tried it? you might ask. Not at all is my clear answer. You see with the amount of mana an old fart like me has accumulated over the years, almost everything can become possible. Just take a look at the recent dinner I just prepared for my family. Absolutely nothing with it went wrong. The *Boeuf Bourguignon* came out perfectly and ouy know what? I havn't gotten the slightest idea of what is required to prepare such a meal - few people do. But I did it. Look around at my mansion would you? Those marble floors there... The Ivory railing adorning the stairs that leads to my personal library... Do you think those came here with hard work? With vigor? Ha!\n\nSee the youth today are so determined that amazing feats of wealth and power like these can come to you with hard work. Well that ain't the case. only by abstaining from the lusts of the flesh can someone ever hope to get on my level.\n\nIt's funny, I don't quit know why I'm responding to your request... It's not like requests like these are new. But yours is different. It's been decades since I recieved a hand written letter. Usually it's just random notifications that a certain amount of money has been deposited into my account or something. No, reqests like yours lands in my inbox which - frankly - I'm too old to give a shit about anymore. They all want the same and so do you i guess. But for the sake of nostalgia writing a letter like this intruiqed me.\n\nTell you what - the old boy's club is coming over soon and I'll be discussing mana and wealth with men and women alike, so I'll have to finish this letter, but come and visit me. I'd like an audiance with someone like you.\n\nYour's dearly\n - Adam",
"\"It's madness that it's gone this far,\" says Melissande, her dainty feet pacing the courtyard stone. Grass grows sweet between the paths, raising kisses to the shell-bright sky. Amidst the lilies, ninety-nine year old Tersus sits, lost in thought, radiating the manifold blessings of his virginity. It had been raining not moments before he stepped outside, but now rainwater sluices harmlessly through the dirt around him, carving out a miraculous patch of dry grass. \"Sheer temptation,\" Melissande says, pulling at the starched front of her dress. \"A dozen daemons over the past few weeks, I'm fending succubi from the windows with a broom! And now news of warlord devotees riding a path to our temple, would-be seductresses posing as maids-\" She throws up her hands. \"This is a perversion of the twin deities! This amounts to a declaration of war!\" \n\nHer brother Lisander leans casually against the birdbath and comes away with a wet sleeve. He shakes it off and grimaces. \"You sound bitter, Lissa. You don't respect dear venerable Tersus any longer? Have you no faith in the blessings of Dian?\" \n\n\"It's a perversion of blessings!\" she snaps. \"It's little more than greed at this point! Dian and Dyonus aren't meant to be opponents! It's a mutual relationship, to withhold and to take.\" Her hand comes up unconsciously to the spot on her dress where a blood-red brooch would go. \"He should have given up his virginity decades ago, honestly, to a mutual virgin, more or less his age. It's the only moral way to go about it, obviously. A mutual exchange of favor, rather than all this this open conflict!\" \n\n\"It makes for terrible sex, though,\" Lisander says. \n\n\"Lisander!\" Spots of color burn bright in her cheeks. \"What's one ... awkward coupling when we can share with each other the blessings of the deities? You have the rest of your life for sex, honestly!\" \n\n\"We put honey on the tongues of babes to welcome them to the sweetness of the world,\" Lisander teases. \"Imagine if, instead, we clumsily fumbled and bruised their lips with the spoon-\" \n\n\"That's enough!\" Melissande says, and then folds her hand and bends her head low. \"I mean it, Lisander. He's brought us to the brink of war. They'll rape him, if they can. They'll destroy him. If you're not ready to defend him-\" \n\n\"Of course I'm ready!\" Lisander scowls and his hand goes to the sword by his side. \"But you're making yourself sick with this, Lissa. You think some rapist lord is going to beat his path to our door, unimpeded by the city watch? We're as safe as we can be here, daemons not withstanding. It's a Temple of Dian. Dian protects us. The Sealed Vessel, potent and whole. You need to have a little bit of faith.\" \n\n\"Faith,\" Melissande says bitterly. \"And yet do the Dyonian cultists not have that same faith? Dyonus, All-Consuming and All-Penetrating, the Open Mouth, the Probing Tongue-\" \n\n\"Lissa-\" \n\n\"I don't understand!\" she says, and her palms come up to press into her eyes. \"It's so simple! Virgins exchanging virginities! What could be simpler, more beautiful that that? And yet all this conflict, all this violent acquisition-\"\n\n\"Lissa,\" her brother repeats, and encircles an arm around her. \"It's a balance, that's all it is-\" \n\n\"No it's not!\" she shrieks, and glances guiltily at the old man, still lost in his appraisal of the clouds. \"It look him a lifetime, it took him near a hundred years to build up that favor. And someone could take it from him in a second. He is the most blessed acolyte of Dian that I know, and yet someone like the Prince of Lovers, the Whore of Babylon, are a dozen times more powerful! We only have our own lifetime, Lisander! And yet they could take for themselves dozens of lifetimes, hundreds of lifetimes -\"\n\n\"Children,\" comes an aged voice, and Tersus is there, his eyes bright and beaming down at them. \"How lovely it is to see you.\" \n\n\"Master Tersus!\" Melissande stammers, and makes to curtsy, and Lisander bobs and bows and hits his own calf with the flat of his sword. \"Master Tersus!\" he says. \"I've come at my sister's request, to guard you if need be-\" \n\n\"That will be fine, that will be fine,\" Tersus says, and moves his hand in a blessing. He moves as lightly as the lilies in the wind, unencumbered by worry. \"My dear girl,\" he says, and touches Melissande's cheek. \"You worry far too much about me. I have long devoted myself to Dian, and they have blessed me accordingly. I shall be entirely fine.\" He shifts and creaks his bony back. \"Will you help me inside, my dear girl? I should like to prepare for the night.\" He smiles with wrinkled lips and lays a hand on Lisander's shoulder. \"And you are a good lad, to come reassure your sister.\" \n\n\"Of course,\" Lisander says, and bows again, and stands at attention, eyes darting towards the courtyard gate, as his sister helps Tersus inside. \n\n***\n\n\"I overheard much,\" Tersus says in the candlelight, as she kneels down and unlaces his sandals, prepares to bathe his feet. \"You fear the path I have chosen.\" \n\n\"Oh, oh no, Master Tersus,\" she says, the jug of water shaking in her hands. \"I did not - I didn't mean, I would not presume-\"\n\n\"Listen now,\" he says, and strokes her hair. \"I understand your faith and find it worthy. You have communed with the twin deities, and learned their doctrine most deeply.\" She pours the water over his knobbly and muddy toes as he sits on the edge of his bed, watches the deep rich earth fall from the wrinkles and cracks. She massages his feet, feels the motion of the bones beneath the skin, her head bowed before him. \"But tell me this, Melissande,\" he says. \"Would you soon leave Dian's order? Exchange your virginity with another's? I expect nothing from you,\" he says, holding up a hand before she can speak. \"But for you to follow your own heart. Tell me, and tell me true, Melissande, will you soon be breaking from my path?\" \n\n\"I-I intend to, soon,\" she stammers, lifting his feet from the basin. The water has grown murky and dark, and she splashes it out of the window for the bushes to drink. \n\n\"And is there a virgin you have in mind?\" he inquires with a benevolent smile.\n\n\"N-no,\" she says, and feels her lies like solid lumps of coal, dark spots left in his radiance. \"That is to say-\" She bends forward, touches her forehead to his knees. \"I'm scared, Master Tersus. I understand what is right, I understand what is required of me to keep Dian and Dyonus in balance. But - I've never - I've served Dian since I was a child, and the thought of...\" She wonders what happened to her certainty, the stern assurance of theology. It is as if the deities have retreated from her.\n\n\"I understand entirely, dear child,\" Tersus speaks, and his hand close on her shoulders and lift her to her feet. \"Let me tell you, that you are right and true and good in your reasoning.\" He bows his head and shakes it sadly. \"I was a mad old man, relying on your youth to defend me-\" \n\n\"Oh, no, Master Tersus,\" she says quickly. \"Not at all! I was - I was simply worried for you, I didn't think when I spoke-\" \n\n\"You were right entirely,\" he says, his fragile hands running down her arms and raising goosebumps. \"I should have traded off my virginity a long time ago, before it came to this. I have come to regret quite a bit in my old age.\" He meets her eye with an impish smile. \"Would you like a blessing, my girl? A blessing of Dian such that no one will ever be able to take it from you?\" \n\nHe is bone, and atop that bone he is flesh and blood and she blushes and feels his heat. \"N-n-no,\" she stammers. \"M-Master Tersus, what are you saying? You're -\" Too old. Arthritic and creaking and rhuemy, a smile of gums and missing teeth. And beyond that, the potent, pulsing power of his blessing, saved for a hundred years. She feels as if it will blow her apart. \"You can't,\" she says at last. \n\n\"Would you rather keep living in fear?\" he says, and his hand traces the straps of her dress, ghosts the curve of her breast. \"For yourself and for me? You said it yourself, my dear girl. It would be perverse to do otherwise.\"\n\nNo, she wants to say, but the word sticks in her throat. She has bathed him, helped him to the bathroom, seen the knobs of rib and spine. And how long has he seen her back. His hand pulls open her dress, and the chill air touches her chest. Her throat convulses. No. No. No. No. \n\n\"My dear girl,\" he whispers, and snuffs out the candle. \"I will make you divine.\" \n\nOut in the courtyard, Lisander touches his hand to the hilt of his sword and puffs out his chest, and stands alert to guard against the gathering dark. "
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[WP] you are a government employee who has been chosen as the first time traveler. Your mission is to travel forward in time in 2 year increments, spending a week in each time period. Things change slowly and gradually between each period. However, on your 20th time jump, the world appears empty.
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"Most residents would describe Lincoln as a quiet town, but today, it was more than just quiet—it was dead silent. Jim glanced back and forth down Main: there was nothing but storefront and street stretching into the distance. It was a scene of desolation, the type a tumbleweed tended to punctuate, except there was no wind. The air hung stiffly, and the sun lay dead in the sky, shining light devoid of its usual warmth. \n\nJim twisted the band of his time watch around his index finger. Something was clearly wrong, and it would be more prudent to return to the past, but the curiosity was coming in pangs, forceful enough to blare out his better judgment. He pressed onwards down the block, peering through car and store windows in search for a sign of life. But the only he found were the blades of grass creeping through the pavement cracks.\n\nThe lock to the corner store was rusted and nonfunctional, as it had been twenty years ago, and the twenty years before that. Jim shoved through the door, forcing it open in a spray of dried wood. The store felt unfamiliar without the presence of Phil behind the counter, even though everything else was in its place. He could sense the accusing glares of the display racks as he navigated through their shadows, making his way to the back of the store, to the large CRT sitting halfway on the windowsill, held in place by dried paint. He pressed the power button: it didn't turn on. Upon confirming it was plugged into an outlet, he slapped it on the top and tried to turn it on again, but to no avail. For whatever reason, electricity wasn't running in the store. Jim suspected this was true everywhere else.\n\nAs Jim passed by the counter, a flicker caught his eye; he'd have mistook it for falling dust if not for the stillness of the air. He climbed atop the tall chair out front and stared into the dimness, at the area immediately above the battered vinyl stool Phil would sweat on for 13 hours a day. The space his body normally occupied was empty but for a flickering outline of a human body. Dotted grey lines traced the contours of Phil's paunch, his bean-bag chin, his unkempt spike garden of a hairdo. The ghost of his hand pressed onto the counter, excreting ghostly sweat that would leave a ghostly handprint if left for long enough. Phil's head jutted out, over the counter, as if he was arguing with someone. Jim slid off the chair, and sure enough, there was another human outline.\n\nBefore his eyes, Phil's outline began to change. Strokes of color wiped his body into existence, as if painted by invisible brushes. The initial result was a kindergarten art piece, a mass of solid colors that bled through the lines and into each other. Then, the invisible artist began to refine him. Jim watched, entranced, as the colors grew shades, and the disarrayed splotches molded themselves to fit within the outlines. When the artist stopped for the second time, Phil had changed from stick figure into mannequin: all that remained was the definition of his face and other small details.\n\n\"Hold on. I don't remember filling *you* in...\"\n \nThe voice rang from everywhere and nowhere, snapping Jim out of his trance. He knew he was being addressed. \"Don't mind me.\" Jim backed away, though from nothing in particular, \"I was just watching.\"\n\nThere was no response, and Jim didn't know what to take by that, but he had a feeling it was time to leave. With trembling hands, he began to configure his time watch. He jabbed the display, inputting the present year. 2...0...1...\n\nBut the \"1\" never registered. Jim performed the motion again, then noticed that his index finger had disappeared. He stared in horror as his whole right hand began to disappear, once again, in broad swipes, as if an eraser had been taken to his body. Both his arms followed, and Jim began to cry, pleading for the voice to spare him. It did not listen, though, and Jim could do nothing but scream while his mouth still existed, while the invisible hand cleared the rest of his body, until the last stroke wiped his face from existence.",
"\"Uh oh.\"\n\nFoyer checked his wristwatch again, a pinnacle of human engineering, device with name longer than he could say in a single breath. Field stabilization, check. Paradox shielding, check. Temporal coordinate, check. This is Point Tango, a temporal checkpoint 40 years into the future where he was supposed to stay for a week and basically catch up to human progress.\n\nBut as he emerged out of the nonsense world into the logical world, he was shocked to find that it was empty. As in, no man made nor natural structure save some sand dunes filled his vision. Had humanity destroyed themselves in the short two years he skipped in the White Stream?\n\nHe checked his wristwatch, trying to pull spatiotemporal coordinate data from GTPS satellites. Nope, nada, null. His wristwatch cannot find any signal associated with GTPS system. It's as if life on earth had never existed.\n\n\"What the actual... no, wait, Ray, pull me log from previous checkpoint, data on Advanced Paradox Tunneling system.\"\n\nHis wristwatch dutifully complied with his request, showing an intricate diagram. At the middle is a metal cylinder, suspended by various acoustic levitation device. The cylinder itself isn't too different from one inside his wristwatch.\n\n\"Damn. I hope it wasn't some stupid thing like what I thought.\" he sprinted through the desert, which upon closer inspection clearly differs from normal sand. It was ash.\n\nHe recalled the one seminar he attended in Point Sierra, about how the same technology used in his Paradox shielding could be used to bring humanity to the next level, to beyond the boundary of space and time. But that was a lie.\n\nParadox Tunnel was not created to ascend humanity into eldritch beings, sitting in throne of gods. It was a weapon, the worst of them all. Foyer don't have to understand the diagram to understand that, the sight before him is enough to slam the cold nature of Paradox Tunnel.\n\n\"Everything, is gone.\"\n\n\"But not nothing is left.\" a vertical slit appeared out of thin air, not unlike when he emerged from the White Stream. A woman stepped outside, clad in tight black camo.\n\n\"Come with me.\"\n\n\"To where?\"\n\n\"To a place where that question became irrelevant.\"\n\n\"To when?\"\n\n\"To a time whereupon that question became irrelevant.\"\n\n\"The White Stream.\"\n\n\"Yes, with the rest of humanity. The Paradox Tunnel succeed, Foyer. We're all transcended into the place where those question became irrelevant.\"\n\n\"But the earth-\"\n\n\"Ah, yeah, sorry about that. We kinda left the genocide weapon on earth and detonated them all after transcending.\"\n\n\"Curses. Well, thank God it wasn't as bad as I thought.\"\n\n\"Foyer, you forgot one thing.\"\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"There are no God. We all are the gods.\"\n\n\"That's not how you talk to your grandfather.\"\n\nAnd just like that, they disappeared into the White Stream.",
"The program was designed around the capability of launching us forward in space and time, linking up with a doorway at a specific space-time coordinate and shooting us forward to that point. I was about to make my 3rd leap forward, 6 years ahead of the start date in 2113. \n\nWe had decided that to test the affects of time travel on the body, we had to do live testing, and the data would then be interpreted in the off year's between jumps. From those jumps, I could bring along certain amounts of data and information from the past, to the future, as well as an array of sensors and diagnostics woven into my suit. \n\nIn 2119, I arrived from the portal door like any else, emerging to the team I had left behind. Everyone was smiles, a few new faces in the room too and one missing. She had died in a car accident it seemed and everyone was very saddened by her loss, as it had only happened 3 weeks before my return. \n\nThey began running tests on me, the 2 week recharge period given by the portal and enough time for the researchers to pull data and do composite tests on my body trying to determine wether time travel was feasible in the long run. \n\nAfter 3 jumps, my personal chrono meter still only read 29days:17hrs since it was turned on, however I had moved forward nearly 6 years through 3 jumps forward in time. \n\nBy the 5th jump however, irregularities began persisting. The Space-time coordinates began to get less reliable, and it was taking more time to send me further into the future. \n\nI sat down with a group of researchers, early into the year 2124, and we began analyzing my structure and my molecular build. It seems as though through repeated time leaps forward, my body was charged with certain particles. Either Graviton or Chronometric had invaded all the cells in my body, acting almost as anchors in time, preventing me from moving forward. \n\nWe analyzed this and found was around the buildup of Chronometric particles, and were also able to remove the Gravometric particles as well, allowing me to continue through time. \n\nThe 11th jump was probably the worst, the time portal almost collapsed on my trip through and my body was taking a beating in the vortex sucking me forward. The calculations were partially off and it almost rendered me dead. I was able to, through no sheer amount of luck, survive with only a few noticeable issues such as a grey hair streak and miscolored spots on my skin. \n\nWe had been off due to a miscalculation, and the ensuing future had deviated slightly due to this. After emerging from the vortex a large amount of the people in the room I did not know, but they claimed to have worked on the project for many decades and I was part of a team of 5 people going through each jump... Time itself was beginning to distort, wether for them or for me, the effect time travel was happening to me in an odd fashion because I could still remember my personal history, however the history around me had changed. Certain wars were won or lost... and I could remember only my past. \n\nJump 20 came around and we had been truly careful about the previous 10 jumps. We had another mistake on jump 17 but it was of no true consequence. By now we had 2 teams going and 2 sets of jumpers in tandem. \n\nWhen I emerged from the gate on Jump 20 something was wrong right from the start. I emerged through into a pile of leaves and in the middle of a forest. Calling out and looking in all directions I saw nothing but lush and brush around me. \n\nI took out the sensor pad I was given during the last jump in as a new tool to use, and pulled it up to my face and scanned. No life signs that appeared human in the immediate vicinity, almost like they didn't exist. \n\nClimbing to the top of a very thick tree and assisted by a few of the tools I had on my utility coat, I checked out over the forest and saw nothing, no buildings, no cities, all open forest. \n\nHad we been wrong again? "
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[WP] You die and find that the afterlife has a couple interesting tid-bits. First, heaven looks like your happy place. Second, all the angels manifest as your greatest fear.
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"Heaven is beautiful. It is a gigantic library, full of books that I haven't read, as well as books I have read and loved. You can also actually step into the books, to live in them for their duration. The bookshelves are dark teak wood, from the floor to the ceiling. It also has four levels: children's books on the bottom floor, young adult books on the second floor, adult fiction on the third floor, and the top floor would be a cafeteria filled with all of my favorite foods, with a coffee shop attached to it. I have peace here. I have joy, and my soul is at rest. Happy. And my family is there with me--it wouldn't be Heaven without them.\n\nThe angels are many, though, and aren't so beautiful: in fact, they're terrifying. My angels manifest as multiple things: the black abyss of loneliness and negativity, personification of my fear of being alone, and the darkest parts of myself. Most of the time, it manifests as a wan, washed-out little waif of a girl, with long brown hair and sad hazel eyes that are always downcast.\n\nMy debilitating rage--the rage I feared would control me--is a male angel, with dark crimson skin, twisted black horns curling out from his temples. His eyes burn red, and he is constantly looking for trouble, for a fight--for the smallest excuse to flare up and destroy something--or worse, say something cutting. He really lived on bitterness, spite, and vapor. He made me feel understood but sorrowful--a confusing cocktail of emotions. Anger had been such a constant in my life--it was hard to get him under control, much less let him go.\n\nAnd then there was my greatest fear: my sadness, my terror that one day I would drown in it. That it would swallow me whole and prevent me from reaching real happiness. For the longest time, I'd walked hand in hand with sorrow and anger--for so long it felt like they were part of me. It manifested itself as a banshee, a wailing creature with long white tresses and black eyes, streaming with endless tears. Sometimes, I can turn my back on her, and she disappears. And there are other times that she overwhelms me, and I sink in a fog of darkness, blinded to light."
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[WP] You scroll past a "like if u love god ignore if u love the devil" post. You then get a call from Satan, explaining how no one's ever said that to him before.
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"\"So, hey,\" a rather gravelly voice comes from the receiver, in a completely non-intimidating way, \"I heard about what you said.\"\n\nAbsolutely uncertain who was calling him, the twenty-one year old drifter was more so inclined to believe this was a prank, and to sate some form of sick sense of humour, he played along:\n\n\"Yeah? Can I ask who this is?\"\n\nThe voice answered almost immediately: \"Lucifer Mourningstar. I heard that you said you loved me--I've never heard that from anyone before.\" \n\nThe young adult couldn't believe it, and admittedly found it amusing. \"[i]You're[/i] Lucifer? Like, Satan, like, the Devil? You're joking.\" This had to be a prank call. The caller ID was showing as 'Unavailable', so it was more than likely someone with a voice modifier star-sixty-nining him. \n\n\"Yes, the Devil. I was calling to say thank you, and show my appreciation. What you did was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.\" The sincerity in his voice was, to put it frankly, disappointing. \n\n\"Yeah, sure,\" the man responds, starting to believe it might not be a prank. \"So, can I ask you something, Satan?\"\n\nAfter a moment's pause, the Devil acknowledged him. \"Absolutely.\"\n\n\"Do you own From Software?\"",
"\"Whatever,\" I murmured to myself, \"These posts are such utter shit, why even bother giving them recognition?\" \n\nAs I exited the Facebook app and approached my charger, my phone vibrated wildly in my hand. Weird, I thought. I never get calls this late at night..upon closer inspection, the number read out as \"72826\", like a number for some sort of bank. I answer the phone hesitantly and on the other end a raspy but somber voice speaks on the other end, \"H-hello?\"\n\n\"Yes, hello? Who am I speaking to?\"\n\n\"Uhh..sorry..read the number.\"\n\nI lifted the phone from my ear and read the number once again to see if I just glanced over it too quickly. 72826. \n\n\"What in the Hell is the number supposed to tell me?\"\n\n\"Did you not notice the area code?\"\n\nI looked once again. Oh, okay. The number was (666)-72826. I looked at it and shook my head.\n\n\"Very funny, I said Hell and the area code is Hell. Look, if your a friend turn your voice changer off and call me back with a number that isn't masked.\" I looked at the phone prepared to hit the end call button, but heard a desperate \"Wait! Stop!\" call out. I was confused and compelled to not press end.\n\nI lift the phone back to my ear. \"Okay, I'll play along. You're calling from Hell and I'm guessing by the rest of the number, it means--\" I looked at the number once more. Damn my poor memory. \"--Satan? Is that right\"\n\n\"Yeah, it's me. Sorry, should've opened with that. Not really used to this.\"\n\n\"Sure buddy. What is it you want again?\" Why am I wasting my time with this is what I should be asking myself.\n\n\"Well, I saw that you ignored that post. I just wanted to say thanks for that..you know, I don't get that very much.\"\n\n\"Alright, well now I know you're a friend on Facebook---\"\n\n\"Well, not exactly. I just see all. Kinda like God but we're not on good terms\"\n\n\"I see. So...you're Satan? Like, the Devil, Lucifer..?\"\n\n\"If you prefer, yes! All of those!\" His voice remained raspy and low, but somehow it was able to project some form of what seemed to be excitement.\n\n\"Right..prove it.\"\n\n\"If you so wish.\" He says as the room begins to shake and the blinds begin to shudder. The electricity in the room begins to flicker on and off violently, the loose items on the dresser and desk begin to shake near the edge and fall off onto the carpet. The only thing left on the desk were 2 candles set up. The shaking stops, the lights are off, and the 2 candles spontaneously light up in the darkness.\n\nI don't know how to react. I stand there, shaking so nervously it's as if I was about to give a speech to the entire population of the nation. It's as if I've been watching this all from 3rd person. I snap myself back into conscious thought, and stare at my phone with the number still up. I hesitate, hold the phone up to my ear, and manage to spit out \"Uh...hello...Lucifer...? You still with me I'm guessing..?\"\n\n\"Yep! Anyway, just wanted to say thank you so much man. I really appreciate you thinking about me. I know you're not that religious but hey, you're on my good side!\"\n\n\"Oh..well you're welcome..glad to please you, uhh...Lucif--\"\n\n\"Please, call me Luci, *friend*.\"\n\nI pause. Holy **fucking** shit. I'm thinking at near light speeds now. The Devil just called me his friend. His *friend*. Is that good? Is that bad? How the Hell is this possible? Better yet, *why* the Hell is it happening? What do I do now? Save his number, throw my phone into a well, run away? I'm damn sure not gonna tell a soul about this, they'd lock me up in a padded cell faster than I can think it. I muster up the remaining sanity I have to reply, \"Uh..sorry...Luci. Look, I uhh..got to go, it's pretty late.\"\n\n\"Hey, no problem. If you ever need anything, shoot me a text! All deals are on me.\" The last part sounded surprisingly sincere for the ruler of Hell, despite the voice sounding deeper and raspier than ever.\n\n\"Thanks..Luci..Talk to you later..?\"\n\nI hung up. Stared down my phone for a bit looking at the number in my recent call history. I clicked the \"Create New Contact\" button, and saved him in my phone. I sat down on my bed and thought about what had just happened. Cool, I guess I have a guardian fallen angel now...Hey, no, I've got the fuckin' Devil as my *friend*, no less! And he did say he'd be willing to help me out. I mean, Hell, this could be his first and only friend since he and Big Man got in an argument and he got shot down. I laid down in bed, grinned widely, and thought of all I could do now with the Devil on my side.\n\nWait, does this mean I'm going to hell?\n\n\nThe End!",
"My phone buzzed from the nightstand, its glow like a thousand tiny suns. A quick glance at the clock told me it was three in the morning. The incoming number said 666. What the hell? \n\nI forced my grumpiest, it’s-three-am-voice. “Hello?” \n\n“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” \n\nI stared at the phone, then pressed it to my ear. “Who is this?” \n\n“What do you mean, who is this? It’s Lucifer.” \n\nI blinked, trying to remember who that was. The name meant something to me…what was it? “Okay. Um, hi, I guess? It’s 3am.” \n\n“Ah, damn it. I forget that sometimes. Time’s meaningless down here. Say, I’m coming up in a couple of days; it’s this whole Wells Fargo thing. There’s a leak in contracts I’ve got to plug…but I’m sure you’re not interested in that. How about we meet for coffee?” \n\n“Wells…you mean the bank?” \n\n“I’ll pick you up outside your apartment Thursday at noon. That’s your day off, isn’t it Stacey?” \n\nI woke fully and sat up in bed. “Who the hell is this?” \n\nBut the line had already disconnected. Then it struck me. Lucifer. 666. The devil. \n\nI slid out of bed and hurried to my window. Snow blanketed the cars and streets twelve stories below. I had a doorman and locks and the bottom of the fire-escape hung ten feet off the ground. That didn’t help the fact that some nutso calling himself the devil thought he was taking me out on a date. I stared at my phone. What would happen if I called him back? \n\nMy fingers hovered over the screen for two full minutes. I watched seconds tick by, finally called myself an idiot, and hit redial. \n\n“Thank you for calling Hell,” a chipper recording said through my speakerphone. “*Para Español, marque numero ocho.* Your call is very important to us. To ensure we connect you with the appropriate party, please listen closely to the following 127 options. Speak clearly and concisely when you make your selection, and have a wonderful day!” There was a pause. “For contracts, press or say one. For…” \n\nI hung up the phone. This was obviously a dream. No one dialed 666 and got Hell. The notion was ridiculous. I crawled back to my covers, convinced none of this was real. In seconds, I was asleep. \n\n______________________________________________________________\n\nJessica stared at me over her silver-rimmed glasses the following morning, her lips twitching in humor as she stirred cinnamon into her latte. “You actually think you called Hell? The real, actual Hell?” \n\nI felt my cheeks flush. “I know you think I’m being silly, but this is serious!” \n\n“Some guy’s seriously fucking with you, that’s for sure.” Jessica grabbed my phone and scrolled through its history. \n“Have you tried calling back again?” \n\nI shifted in my seat. The Starbucks was particularly busy this morning and four people had already bumped into us. Small splashes of fresh coffee stained our table. \n\n“You haven’t, have you?” Jessica rolled her eyes. “God, the things I do for you.” She stuffed a bud in her right ear and offered me the left. Then she hit redial. \n\n“Thank you for calling Hell,” the recording began. It cycled through its greeting as Jessica’s eyes widened. \n\n“See?” I whispered. \n\nShe held up a manicured hand. “Just wait.” \n\n“For contracts, press or say one. For possessions, press or say two. For…” \n\nJessica pressed one. \n\n“What are you doing?” I hissed at her. \n\nShe grinned back. “Don’t tell me you think this is real.” \n\n“For existing contracts, press one,” the voice said. “For new contracts, press two.” \n\nJessica pressed two. The recording cycled through clicks and beeps and then a different voice came through the earbud. “Thank you for your interest. A representative will contact you shortly.” The line went dead. \n\nJessica pulled the earbud out with a laugh. “See? Nothing. So this Lucifer is picking you up on Thursday?” \n\n“I’m obviously not going.” \n\nJessica sipped her latte. “He’s the first guy to show interest since Brian left.” \n\n“He’s a lunatic stalker who created an answering service to make me think he’s the devil.” \n\n“And that means you shouldn’t go out with him?” \n\nI stared at her. “For God’s sake, Jessie!” \n\nShe tossed back her blonde hair. “I’m just saying don’t make any rash decisions. At least get a look at the guy.” \n\nA shadow crossed our table and someone’s ice-coated boot bumped my foot. I glanced up in annoyance to find a middle-aged man smiling down at Jessica. \n\n“I recognize you. Jessica Jewel, isn’t it? You auditioned for me a couple of weeks ago.” \n\nJessica’s face paled but she recovered quickly and wiped her hands on a napkin before extending both. “Yes, of course! It’s great to see you again, sir.” \n\n“I think we were too hasty in our casting decisions. Why don’t you stop by my office this afternoon, if you’re free, and we can discuss it?” \n\nHer jaw dropped. So did mine. Jessica sputtered for a moment, seemingly unable to speak. I did it for her. “She’ll be there at 2pm.” \n\n“Oh my God,” Jessica squealed when he walked off. “Do you have any idea who that was?” \n\nI shook my head. \n\nJessica scrambled to her feet, accidentally knocking her latte off the table. “I have to go home. I have to get ready! I’m going to be a Broadway star – oh my God, Stacey!” \n\nI smiled at her. “Go get ‘em!” \n\nShe raced out of the Starbucks, earning grunts of disapproval from the people she pushed aside. A dark-haired man sitting alone in one of the plush armchairs stood and folded a newspaper. He left behind Jessica, walking in the same direction. \n\n_______________________________________________________________________\n\nThursday morning came too quickly. Jessica was no help. Ever since meeting her Broadway director, she’d done nothing but talk about her budding fame. She had some important contract to sign - apparently it was a big deal and she couldn't help me until it was finished. And so I sat alone in my small apartment, staring at my phone, wondering when Lucifer would call. Turns out the devil calls at 11:59am. \n\n“Are you ready? I’m outside.” \n\n“Look,” I said, biting my lip. “This whole devil thing isn’t very funny.” \n\n“I don’t find it particularly amusing at all, especially this week. Maybe we could forget that part? It’s not important anyway. Just come downstairs. I’ve been looking forward to this coffee all week. Let's make it Irish if you don't mind. You can’t imagine the meeting I just had.” \n\n“Well,” I said. “There’s a bar down the street.” \n\n“Perfect! Come on down and we’ll walk.” \n\n“Okay, but I’m not calling you Lucifer.” \n\n“What would you like to call me?” \n\nI hesitated. “What’s your real name?” \n\n“I always like Belial. How about Bel?” \n\nMy doorman was chatting with someone when I exited the elevator. At least Lucifer/Bel couldn’t get past the front door. I’d glance outside, see what he looked like, and if I didn’t like what I saw, march straight back upstairs. My doorman’s guest turned and my jaw dropped to my knees. \n\nTall, dark hair, that perfect amount of stubble, and gorgeous. My first thought: *yep. That’s the devil.* Suddenly I felt so inadequate I wanted to hide. He approached and offered a dazzling smile. \n\n“Ready for that coffee?” \n\n__________________________________________\n\n“So what was your meeting about?” I asked him thirty minutes later. He was sipping his second black coffee and double shot of whiskey. We sat in a booth near the back of the nearly-deserted bar. ESPN blared across five large flat screens. \n\nLucifer made a face. “Bunch of idiot bankers is what. They think *I’m* working for *them*. I always need a fifth of whiskey after dealing with bankers.” He smiled at me. “But let’s not talk about that.” He leaned forward. “Your message really touched me.” \n\nI frowned at him. “What message?” \n\n“You know, that post? ‘Like if you love God, ignore if you love the devil?’ You wrote the nicest thing I’ve ever read.” \n\n*Oh crap.* Stalker theories rebounded in my head. “You looked through my history? You broke into my computer?” \n\nHe shifted, obviously uncomfortable. “Of course not. I mean, not really. I made the post.” He glanced up. “It just touched me, okay? That’s all I’m saying. I’d like to get to know you better.” \n\n“You’re off to a swimming start,” I said, clenching my fists. “Calling yourself the devil, creating that ridiculous answering service, and then breaking into my computer. I should walk out of here right now and call the cops.” \n\nLucifer shrugged as if unconcerned. “I’d understand if you did.” He touched my wrist. “But I’d like you to stay.” \n\nI pulled my hand back. “Well, I do have my beer.” \n\nLucifer’s phone rang. He frowned at the device then glanced at me. “Sorry. This won’t take long.” He pressed the phone to his ear. “Yes?” \n\nI heard rumbling on the other end and toyed with my coaster. The server came by and Lucifer pointed at our table for the check. \n\n“So she wants Broadway fame and fortune?” he said into the phone. “Anything else?” There was a pause. “No, I’ll handle it.” He glanced at me and smiled. “I’m up here, aren’t I? Might as well get something out of it.” He ended the call and pulled out a surprisingly large wad of cash. “I have to cut this short. I hate it, but duty calls.” He dropped two twenties on the table and stood, offering me his hand. “Maybe we could meet for dinner tomorrow? My treat?” \n\n*Damn right,* I thought. “Well…” \n\n“You pick. Wherever you want to go. Eight o’clock?” \n\n“I guess,” I said, standing from the booth. \n\n“Don’t sound too excited.” He flashed me that dazzling smile. “You won’t regret it. I promise.” \n "
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Think the title says it all!
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[WP] While walking home, you decide to call your daughter. She doesn't answer, but you can hear her ringtone coming from the person walking towards you.
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"Listen. I've already told you plenty of times. The story ain't changing. But if you want it on tape, fine. I'll tell you again. Then I want my lawyer. \n\nSo I was heading home from the corner mart. Some knockoff of 7/11 called Jeeve's Gas and Go. They've got great sandwiches. Well, as great as gas station sandwiches can be. Kinda greasy but that's part of the charm, but I digress.\n\nSo I was maybe half way home, about three blocks from Jeeve's, when I think to call my daughter Penny. I wanted to see if she could start boiling some water for spaghetti. We use this huge stockpot, and that thing takes like a full hour to get boiling. \n\nSo I wrestled out my phone, and I ring her up. Meanwhile, this guy comes walking toward me on the sidewalk, and I hear the damndest thing. He's getting a call, and the ringtone... its her ringtone. I knew it had to be her phone because, well, it's from some video game. She made that clip herself.\n\nWell. You know how it is. My mind ran with it. I decided I had two options. Chalk it up to coincidence or, well, do something about it. I thought, hey, if I just let this go, and I get home and my daughter ain't there, I'll regret having done nothing if this guy... if this guy DID something, you know? \n\nSo I slugged him. Maybe five or sixteen times. He had no idea it was coming. And I just... I just couldn't stop. I was getting madder and madder. My fist went numb. I mean, it hurt but I couldn't feel it. \n\nThen I saw his phone on the ground, and that's when I knew. Not her phone.\n\nI put my phone to my ear, and there was Penny's voice. She answered. She was crying. She heard everything, thought I got jumped. I just.. I hung up. \n\nBut it wasn't my fault officers, right? You'd have done the same right? RIGHT?! How could I have known she'd upload that damn ring tone to some site and people would use it? Not my fault. Not. \n\n...I guess, I guess I just never thought it would kill him. People get beatings in movies all the time, and they're fine. I just thought... shit. I don't know. I've probably said too much.\n\nThat's all. \n\n",
"Where are my keys? I rifled through my pockets again. My jeans barely fit and I'd forgotten my belt, so I had to keep pulling them up. Where's my wallet? I looked around the parking lot, a few dozen cars were scattered around. Where's my car? I checked my watch. 11 am. I paused for a moment, listened to the birds singing. Was it summer already? Certainly the trees looked green, and flowers bloomed in the empty field next to the parking lot. I could have sworn it was winter, just yesterday. How the time gets away from you.\n\nI checked my watch. Noon. I needed to get going. Needed to get home. I grabbed my phone to call my daughter. She'd still be at home, hopefully. She just got her license last year, and could pick me up in her mom's car.\n\nWhile I fumbled with the phone, a car pulled into the other end of the lot. The woman driving appeared to pause and look at me. If I didn't know better, I'd swear it was my wife. But that wasn't her car, and anyway she should be at work today. The car started coming my way.\n\nI found my daughter's entry on my phone and called. The woman in the car had her windows rolled down, and I could hear a song coming from the car. I recognized the melody, a pop song from when I was a young man. It was the song my wife and I danced to at our wedding. A favorite of mine, but terribly out of style.\n\nThe woman called out, but I couldn't really hear so I started walking towards her. My daughter didn't answer. Probably busy. When I got to the car, I noticed the song was gone. The woman who looked like my wife had a concerned face.\n\n\"Dad!\" She said. \"What are you doing out here?\" She stopped the car, got out, and walked up to me.\n\n\"Looking for my car.\" I said. \"Do you know where I parked it?\"\n\n\"Dad... Let's go inside.\" She looped her arm around mine and we started walking towards the building. \"How long have you been out here?\"\n\nI looked at my watch. 1pm. \"I... don't know.\"\n\nThe woman sighed and sobbed softly."
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[WP] You hack into an online government database entitled "The Exit Experiment." What you find is extremely disturbing.
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"**admin@db-4h5yt7: $ cd trials**\n\n**admin@db-4h5yt7: $ ls**\n\nerrors.txt\n\nNOTICE.txt\n\ntrial1.txt\n\n**admin@db-4h5yt7: $ cat errors.txt**\n\nERRORS IN THE EXPERIMENT:\n\n- A staircase unexpectedly collapsed and rendered data from 5 of the subjects unusable.\n\n- Due to a scheduling error, a second plane crashed into the other building. The other two plane crashes that day are however unrelated.\n\n**admin@db-4h5yt7: $ cat NOTICE.txt**\n\nNOTICE\n\nThis experiment has since been cancelled due to concerns over cost and repeatability.\n\nAll information stored here is still classified as *TOP SECRET*\n\n**admin@db-4h5yt7: $ cat trial1.txt**\n\n13 subjects were admitted to the first trial.\n\nThe objective was to determine who among the subjects were capable of exiting a building in the event of extreme emergency and tragedy. The survivor(s) would then go on to receive more training and be deployed in Afghanistan.\n\nThe subjects were composed of Navy SEALs, Special Ops, CIA, FBI, and an American Ninja (See _American Ninja Training Program._ Unrelated to the TV show \"American Ninja Warrior\"). They were all scheduled for a meeting together in a conference room in the World Trade Center on September 11th, 2001. They would be observed remotely.\n\nBefore the experiment, the subjects were told the following line, word-for-word: \"Later today something terrible will happen. You're job is to wait here until that happens. Then, you must escape this building alive. Do not stop for others; do not tell others that you knew this will happen or was going to happen. If you do escape, you are to tell no one of this experiment. You are to go home as soon as you can and you will be picked up there for the next assignment. Good luck.\"\n\nThe subjects sat there in the conference room for about 3 hours, 2 minutes, and 38 seconds in military silence. Then the first plane hit the building. It hit 18 floors above where the subjects were stationed. \n\nThe subjects immediately made for the door and began to go down towards the ground floor. \n\nThey started to split up into smaller groups, either by moving at different speeds or by taking different paths. \n\nIt should be noted that the Navy SEALs all stuck together, as well as the Special Ops and the FBI agents. There were only two CIA agents, and there are reports from their supervisors that they did not get along. They took separate paths at the first possible opportunity.\n\nOf the three groups that stuck together, none of them survived. Both Special Ops and FBI stopped for a fellow agent that had been struck by falling rubble, and were soon thereafter trapped. The Navy SEALs were just extremely unlucky; they had an entire flight of stairs collapse on them. This constitutes error in the experiment and we can therefore not conclusively rule out any of the Navy SEALs that were selected. That being said, they are all dead; there's nothing we can do now.\n\nThe first CIA agent made it very far down, but tripped while turning onto the next staircase and fell over. A sensor attached to his body showed a sudden spike of Adrenaline and Cortisol. He collapsed from the trip and he died of what can only be described as \"giving up.\"\n\nThe second CIA agent did not make it nearly as far down. One of our cameras in the stairwell shows him faltering at floor 22, then opening the door and exiting the stairwell. The agent then ran straight through the hall, and through the window. He did not survive the landing.\n\nThe ninja did successfully escape the building. Camera footage shows him leaving the conference room, and then exiting the building, carrying another person to safety with him. He does not appear anywhere else in the footage.\n\nThe experiment was ultimately termed a success. The ninja, already having received the best training this country can offer, will begin with operations in Afghanistan once the _War on Terror_ starts. \n\nWe hope the president is pleased with the success today.\n\n**admin@db-4h5yt7: $ logout**\n\n**carl@Carls-MacBook-Pro: $ open -a \"Safari\"**\n\n_Later that day multiple posts to online message boards were seen from Carl's IP address. They all contained the same content: \"Bush did 9/11.\" Carl has since been apprehended, and the Propaganda Corps has been deployed to combat his messages._\n\n*****\n\n_All of the lines like admin@db-4h5yt7: $ <command> are commands that were issued to a computer via the command line. For more info, google \"bash\"_\n\n_In regard to the ninja, I was inspired by this prompt: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2pcz53/wp_almost_every_other_country_in_the_world_has/ _\n\nEDIT: forgot newlines in between paragraphs\n\nEDIT 2: Made all command prompts bold\n\nEDITS 3 & 4: More of the same. Markdown is difficult "
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[WP] You suddenly realize one day that you live in a telepathic society. Everyone has hid this from you out of pity for your disability.
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"I was about fourteen, going on fifteen, when I finally got wind of it. From the time of my parents' death and my brother losing contact with me, I never caught on to anything, because that had been my life for ages. Exclusion was the shell I lived in for a long time. \n\nHe was a student in the same high school I went to, and try as I might, I couldn't wipe the memory of him out of my mind. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary on the first day, except for the fact that he was the only one to talk to me, actually *talk* to me instead of gesturing and making expressions at each other like the whole world did. \n\nAbout that-I always assumed they were gossiping about me in subtext, in their own language. Turns out I was partly right. \n\nHe seemed pretty nervous that first day, clutching a clipboard and peering at me with those clear blue eyes that I'd come to love. Needless to say, I was shocked when he spoke to me. \n\n\"Hi Adrienne, I'm Tony, from your homeroom, remember me? I was doing a project on the effects of-\"\n\nThere he stopped. Biting his lip in consternation, he glanced away from me and surveyed the room, catching the eye of our teacher standing at her desk sternly. After a few seconds, and with a nod, he continued. \n\n\"Anyhow, I just wanted to ask you a few questions for my study. Do you mind?\" \n\nI shrugged, trying desperately to ignore the thudding of my heart inside my chest and conceal the excitement burning through me. It had been ages since anyone ever really accepted me, let alone tried to learn more about me. But the things he asked me-they were confusing. They were questions I couldn't even believe anyone would ask, because it wasn't that special.\n\n*Is it unnerving to gather your thoughts before you talk to others?*\n\n*Does normal spoken conversation feel tiring to you?*\n\nThe thing was, Tony acted as talking, real conversation, was far from the norm, as if it was an unconventional way of life. \n\nWhen I asked, he grinned offhandedly and said with a wave, \"It's just for this dumb project about superpowers that I'm doing. Nothing special.\"\n\nI couldn't help but notice that he didn't meet my eyes while saying that.\n\nLater that week, and for months to come, I started paying more attention to details around me. How people tended to start arguments as if they had already discussed their points of view in a different place, when the truth was that this was a debate between total strangers. How they seemed to already *know* what others had in mind, before they even opened their mouth to speak. How they gazed at me with pity in their eyes, seeming puzzled when I talked to them directly. \n\nAnd how I didn't act in such a way. \n\n*\n\nYou know how they say life hits you like a train wreck sometimes? That's how I felt, a year into my newfound friendship with Tony after we bonded over his study, when he was involved in a car crash. \n\nI was ascending the steps of the hospital, dazed and worried, when I finally found out what had been amiss in my whole life. \n\nIt was the white sheet of paper beside Tony's sickbed that caught my eye. Paper was a rare commodity for our society these days. For the life of me, I couldn't understand why. Whenever I jotted something down on notepads, everyone cast me puzzled stares as if they didn't know what I was doing.\n\nOn the paper was a line of fine print. \n\n*Loss of Telepathy-permanent injury, will not recover.*\n\nTelepathy. \n\nTelepathy? As in, mind links, superpowers, things that didn't exist in my reality?\n\nTelepathy-which could even be an explanation to everything that felt unnatural in my daily life?\n\nI was still reeling at the words when Tony stirred on his bed. I tried to say something, but was met by a firm hand on my lips, stopping me. How long had he been awake? How long had he known I was here and reading his diagnosis?\n\nHow long had he lied to me?\n\nHe gazed at me, and in his soft eyes I saw a plea of desperation, a silent apology. \n\n\"It can't be true. I always thought I was abnormal. But it just can't...I mean, even you?\"\n\nMy voice was cracked, downcast, as I absorbed the true meaning of betrayal. Even my closest friend had not tried to tell me about what the world really had against me. I had confessed my fears to him during countless late-night talks, even thinking up wild theories that came dangerously close to the truth, but he never said a word. \n\n\"I'm sorry. But hey, at least-\" he offered me a small smile, pointing at the diagnosis beside him, \"we're one and the same now.\"\n\nAt that, I took in a sharp breath. His expression was one of immense loss, of something bordering on depression. I thought it was me against the world, when I finally learned the truth. But who knows, it might have been worse for him. Who knows, the pain of losing telepathy permanently might be worse than not having it all along. \n\nI took his hand in mine, offering a compromise of solidarity. Of hope, in braving this cruel new world that was going to be permanently against us. \n\n\"Don't worry,\" I breathed. \"I forgive you. We're definitely in this together.\""
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[WP] You're at a speed date night when you find yourself face-to-face with yourself
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"8:24 pm, the past seven unsuccessful attempts to find a mate have worn down Franklin to a point of uncertainty behind his wall of false confidence. He goes to the water cooler for a spell to get a drink and returns to his table only to be matched up with a hussy he once knew from the bar three blocks down, this being the only certain point in his evening thus far, he immediately \"swipes left\", so to speak.\n\nHe grabs his coat and goes outside for a smoke, as he prepared to leave, something inside of him spoke to give the speed dating thing one more go. He heads back in and sits at the table for another round, to his shock he is matched up with someone who looks exactly like him, from the messed up, dirty blonde parted haircut, to the black, fresh-shined dress shoes.\n\n\"W-who are you?\" Franklin asked, feeling kinda nervous.\n\"My name is Franklin\" the man sitting across from him says.\nFranklin realizes that he was seated with himself, why he is though, is not known yet.\n\"What's going on? How is this possible?!\" Franklin asks in a very shocked manner, \"Are you a clone of me!?\"\n\"Chill, Frankie, chill. I'm here to show you some stuff, will you come along?\"\nFranklin 1 reluctantly agrees and takes his hand.\n\"So where are we going, Frank?\"\n\"Your place.\"\n\"Why?\"\n\"I wanna show you something.\" he says as the cool fog of his breath hits the car window as they get to the car.\n\"Whatever you say...\" Franklin says as he lights up a cigarette which is then smacked out of his hand by the other Franklin. \"You're not gonna smoke from here on out, you hear?\"\n\"Are you serious?\"\n\"Deathly serious, that will be step one.\"\n\"Step one?\" He asks nervously, \"Don't worry about it.\" Franklin 2 tells him.\n\nThe two Franks drive until they get to Franklin's apartment on 73rd Street.\n\"Ah, the good old 209.\" Franklin 2 says as he takes out his key to unlock the door.\n\"How did you get a key?\"\n\"I'm you, think about it.\" he says as they step inside of the tiny, filthy apartment.\n\"I'm trying to think about it, but it just seems so far-fetched and unreal to me.\"\n\"Do you ever clean this apartment Frankie?\"\n\"No, you should know I don't.\"\n\"Well then, that will be step two.\" he says as he hands him the broom.\n\"Step two?\"\n\"Like I said, don't worry about it.\"\n\nFranklin 1 spends a good two hours cleaning his apartment and he sits down for a nap.\n\"Hey hey hey, what do you think you're doing buddy?\" Franklin 2 says, \"We're not done here yet, now we're gonna eat better so come on.\"\nFranklin 1 is exhausted from having cleaned his little shack from top to bottom but goes with him anyway.\n\"So, where are we going now?\"\n\"This farmers market down here on Ozark Drive, best quality fruit in the county, I promise this will benefit you in the long run.\"\n\"Let me guess, this is step three or something?\"\n\"Yep, now let's get you some lamb and honey, buddy.\" Franklin 2 says as they approach the farmers market.\n\nFranklin and Franklin head back to the apartment having filled up on a nice and wholesome meal, the best he's had in a while.\n\"Man you were right, that hit the spot like Wild Bill's barrel on a target.\"\n\"You know it, Franklinfurter.\"\n\"Man, I feel like I'm dreaming. I didn't think living with myself could be so good. I haven't even wanted a smoke all night.\"\n\"Haha, yep. It's almost a shame.\"\n\"What's a shame?\"\n\"Nothing that you need worry about, it's just, I'm not long for this world.\"\n\"Why's that?\"\n\"Please don't ask why, just promise me one thing, Franklin,\" he takes his hand, \"that you'll keep making decisions to better yourself.\"\nFranklin looks into his eyes and says to him ever so quietly, \"Yes, Franklin. I'll always be looking out for myself.\"\n\"So will I...\" he says as they hug and he disappears into smoke.\n\"What the..\" he says as everything around him slowly turns into smoke and darkness.\n\nHe wakes up, it's 8:26 pm, he hit his head on the table at the speed dating meetup as he awoke, he looks around and grabs his coat and hat to leave as he throws his cigarettes into the trash.",
"\"Huh...Hey?\"\n\nYou apprehensively murmur to your reflection. Only it's not your reflection. The hair is different and the clothes are different, but it's definitely you.\n\nHe confidently responds. His voice echoes that of your own, but it's authoritative and commanding in such a way you almost don't recognize it. \n\n*\"What's up? How's our night going Dane?!\"*\n\nYou fussily run a hand through your unkempt hair; immediately aware of how superior his tastefully coiffed hairdo is to yours. \n\nYou manage to anxiously squeak out a reply.\n\n\"It's been going alright. Nobody has been to enthralled with me, but I guess...\" You look down at your hands. You gently tap them on the table. \"But I guess I can say the same for them.\"\n\nOpposite You just nods. Looking away from you his eyes carefully meander the loud and crowded tavern. \n\nYou lean in over the table, your eyes cross examining every inch of yourself. Before you can mutter anything though, he jokingly whips a peanut at your face. \n\n*\"Don't stare man, it looks bad for the both of us.\"* \n\nHis assertive voice...your assertive voice once again rings foreign yet familiar in your ears. \n\nYou must have continued staring, because another peanut is quickly lobbed into your open mouth. Opposite You throws his arms up in celebration; his fists pump. \n\n*\"Score! Oh yeah!\"*\n\nYou gingerly chew the peanut, shell and all. Opposite You takes this as his moment to make his first impression on the night.\n\n*\"What about the third girl we talked to? Denise, the brunette? she was cuuuute man! I think she dug us too. Why aren't we going after her?\"*\n\nYour face is flushed red now. You're angry. \n\n\"US!? What do you mean us!? Who are you!?\"\n\nSomething made you speak it out loud, but you know the answer to your own question; the bright blue plaid button up he wears is the same one you dressed yourself in only hours ago. Only his is taught against his broad shoulders, the wrists folded up showcasing toned forearms, the bottom neatly tucked into black jeans. \n\nYour shirt feels loose and looks wrinkled. A quick sanity check confirms that your wrists are not folded up and the hem of your shirt lazily flops untucked.\n\nHe looks at you almost quizzically. \n\n*\"Who am I? I'm you, you dingus. Isn't that painfully obvious?\"*\n\nYou yell back.\n\n\"No! It's not painfully obvious! People don't...\" You stammer and take a deep breath. \"...People don't sit across from themselves...People don't talk to themselves...People don't throw peanuts at themselves!\"\n\nHe grins, his well coiffed hair catches the light of the bar exquisitely. \n\n*\"Yet here you are. Sitting across from yourself. Talking to yourself. Annnnnd receiving peanuts from yourself!\"* \n\nHe casually leans back in his seat, his grin exceptionally wide after the last remark. His teeth glimmer like yours never have. \n\nYou lean across the table and lower your voice to a whisper. \"Are you from an alternate dimension? You know like Bizarro Superman or whatever?\"\n\nOpposite You just shakes his head. *\"I'm from this dimension Dane. You're from here. I'm from here. We're from here. That's how this works.\"* \n\nYou are unsatisfied with his response. \"Oh you're from like the future, here to tell me some profound insight?\"\n\n*\"No.\"*\n\n\"You're my cosmic echo, radiating through the universe as a parallel version of myself?\"\n\n*\"What the fuck are even talking about?? Dane this isn't the fucking X-Files, okay? We're not caught up in some existential Alan Watts fever dream, alright. I am you. You are me. We are each other...and we are having a conversation at this bar right here right now. That's all there is to it.\"*\n\nYou lean back and stroke your chin, stubble coarse against the tips of your fingers. \"Fuck you're right. I would have said the exact same shit.\"\n\nHe leans forward, the dim bar lights illuminating the gaunt contours of his shaved cheeks. *\"Exactly, because YOU did say that exact same shit.\"*\n\nThe situation is beginning to settle with you, and this brings on the fact that you're still in an incredibly crowded bar. \n\n\"Oh shit!\" You stifle your voice to a hoarse murmur and look around at all the faces occupying the bar. \"Can everybody else see you...see me talking with you....see me talking with me?!\" \n\nYou want to feint from embarrassment, but a reassuring hand on your shoulder melts the anxiety away. *\"Don't worry about them. Don't worry about any of them. Don't worry about what they think. Don't worry about what you think they're saying. Don't worry about what you think they may be thinking. That shit is poison. Plus, if you actually look around you'll find that everyone here is talking with themselves, fighting with themselves, looking themselves over and over, and some are even throwing peanuts at themselves.\"*\n\nYour eyes move across the bar seeing reflections where no reflections had been before. \n\nMelissa, the blonde who had joked with you about how old she felt as a woman of thirty-five years in a speed dating scenario with a bunch of late twenty-somethings leaned against the far wall. Her reflection mirrored the same stance. The dingy light of the bar made it difficult to discern her two selves, but with persistent examination you could make out differences. Melissa on the left had deep, dark bags under her eyes and heavy cut lines across her forehead, two features that you hadn't noticed when speaking to her. Melissa on the right was as you remembered, bubbly in a cute teal dress that made her sky blue eyes brilliantly pop. \n\nYou bring your attention back to yourself across the table, \"But I didn't talk to her, I talked to the one on the right. Right?\"\n\n*No, we talked to both of them. It's just easier for us...well easier for everyone really...to just see other's multiple selves as a single identity. It's not convenient for us to see past the superficial, both visually and emotionally.\"*\n\nYour eyes are clenched in concentration. \"Do I...do WE have any choice how WE'RE perceived?\"\n\n*\"No. That's the trap. That's where the tension between YOU and ME arises. All we can hope for is cordial discourse between YOU and ME, between US. If I can't empathize with you, or you can't empathize with me than how can we empathize with anyone else?\"*\n\nYou turn your head to the left. You know Denise is sitting two seats down. You've known this whole time, yet only now can you actually bring yourself, your entire self, to look at her. \n\nHer reflection is easier to spot; her glistening brown hair that cascades down past lithe shoulders is mirrored against a coarse mane with split ends. An adorable button nose is puffy and red in her mirror, and upper arms sagged where you had previously seen agile, limber muscles. Tears slowly stream down her mirror's tired face as the Denise you remember speaking to earlier guardedly sips a drink.\n\nYou speak to Opposite You again, this time your voice wrestling in anger. \"I don't get it. Why does she look like that to me?\"\n\n*\"Well, that's how she looks to herself.\"*\n\n\"I see.\" \n\nYou get up from the table and walk over to Denise. You put a hand on her shoulder and she looks up at you. Her quiet tears have rendered her eyes puffy, red, and matching color with her cute, upturned nose. \n\n\"I know we talked earlier, but I just wanted to come over here and say that I like everything about you. I think you're great.\"\n\nYou smile nervously, immediately regretting your stupid approach. \n\nShe smiles back and playfully pulls on the cuffs of your shirt. \"Thanks!\" She giggles, \"I think you're pretty great too!\"\n\nYou look down at the folded up wrists of your sleeves and the toned forearms they expose.\n\nConfused, your gaze momentarily turns to the door where you see yourself walking out; the breeze from outside is rippling the untucked bright blue plaid button up. \n\nYou turn to Denise and smile. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] You and a few others are the first time travellers. You travel back in time, with the intent of studying primitive humans. However, upon arriving, no trace of humans whatsoever can be found.
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"**Day 1**: Something has gone wrong. Humans should exist by now. I mean, sure, we wouldn't have Lascaux or Willendorf for another 10,000 years, but we had solid proof of tool-use, \"tribal\" warfare, even some signs of early seasonal \"settlements\". We seem stuck here for a few days, regardless; Davis says he can't get a lock on our home spacetime coordinate, probably some sort of local interference.\n\n**Day 90 (± 50 years)**: We've tried twice now to leave with only a tenuous lock on our home time, only to get thrown out of the vortex within a decade or two of what I will call (for lack of any better description) 40,000 BCE. Davis died in the second attempt, but believed we could get within a few years of our target flying blind. He was evidently wrong. Zhong thinks he can shield our chronometer from whatever has blocked our signal so far and get us at *least* back to our own century.\n\n**Year 1**: We've run out of tritium, so no more time hops. We may as well make the best of our situation until our friends and family figure out what happened and mount a rescue trip, but for now... We effectively get to live in heaven. No more flavored recycled biomass we call \"food\", no more living in triple-bunks packed three per 10x10 room, no more scheduled \"shower days\" based on our birth day-of-week. We have almost limitless space, limitless food (the local fauna has proven highly susceptible to our emergency plasma joiner, and its fuel cell would probably last a few thousand years for that use), and the water... it just *pools* on the surface in this era! Our primary concern is boredom, and even in that regard, our \"heaven\" contains at least a dozen species of free-growing intoxicants, both banned and extinct back home.\n\n**Year 20**: Who could have planned for the expiration of our contraceptive implants within our lifetimes? Heh... No great loss, though, Sarah and I take great pride in our two sons; I can see why we needed to limit reproduction in our own time. Our boys grow stronger every day, and Billy, the older of the two, has started showing an interest in Lan, Zhong's own eldest girl. Crazy kids. :)\n\n**Year 72**: Father died yesterday. He taught me everything he knows, but still, Lan, and I, and his grandchilden, will all miss his wisdom. He always had a confidence in the future I envy. I remember stories he told me as a child, and wish I could have seen his homeland, but few of the tools he has left me still work. Mother tells me they just need new batteries, then always sighs and laughs that the corner store is fresh out. She doesn't look well lately, I fear she will soon join Father.\n\n**Year 111**: I inherited this family legacy on the passing of my own sire, William the Bold. I see he commemorated his father's passing herein, so I will do the same. Know that William was a *great* man; he led the tribe beyond the Southern mountains when the aurochs became scarce, to a land of plenty. I hope to live up to his legacy as a leader, as our tribe has prospered and grown.\n\n**WeiLium XI, year 8**: The Earth has turned cold against us. Since my grandfather's time, it has grown ever colder even as we move further southward. We gather salted meat for the summer, to sustain us over the harsh winter, but find ourselves ever leaner as the spring comes. The Mammoths have all but vanished, and even the aurochs come few and far between. We eat more rabbit than we do any wholesome food lately.\n\n**Um, hi**: My mother told me of a cairn far to the North, beneath which I would find my legacy, an hundred generations removed. After a month's journey, I find this odd tome, of a shimmering material the likes of which I've never seen, and which responds to my touch with these beautiful written words. As I compose this, I have little hope of making it back to the caves where my people live, as I have only a few day's food remaining and have come far. Thankfully, as a descendant of the Holy Line, I have the gift of words; and though I find much of what I read here confusing, I now understand that the cold times have climaxed, and the ice has stopped pushing us south. Though I may die here, I die knowing my people might survive the retreating cold.\n\n**???** Ancestors! *This One* apologizes for the indignity he causes you. In shame, as the only blood of this line and having failed to find a mammoth and thereby attain manhood, [he?] will return this, your blessing, to you. The valley of fire lies just beyond the next ridge, where *this one* may return to you what is yours. Praise be to WuLan!"
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[WP] The door will close. It's the only way in... and the only way out.
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"We finally did it. The first fleet of hyperspace crafts hanged through various orbits, waiting for the passengers to board it. But the reason for it wasn't exactly peaceful.\n\nTo put it simply, humanity was fucked.\n\nTo give you more lengthy information, a weapon had wiped out 70% of humanity, consuming majority of atmospheric oxygen content and forcing us to leave. Thus within the span of 3 short years, what's left of us built these rudimentary spacecrafts.\n\nShuttles began launching from various point on earth, met the hyperspace craft, and then fell down back to earth. As the hyperspace shell encased the craft, I took one last look to earth.\n\nThere's nothing we could do. No more anyway, that weapon is just too powerful. The second that weapon detonated, we had given up on staying in the earth.\n\nThere's no way back. The road only extends forward, from now on.",
"\"Secondary containment ring stabilizing...locked. Standby for confirmation from primary containment.\" \n\n\n\"Primary containment is go. Magnetic field generators at fifty percent power and holding. If we're going to do this, now's the time.\" \n\n\"Confirmed, primary containment. Alright boys and girls, you heard her! Let 'er rip!\" \n\nElectricity arced within the quarantine chamber, lighting up the spherical magnetic containment fields like the Aurora Borealis. By their light, the domed metal chamber looked like the inside of a kaleidoscope, every surface painted with a vivid rainbow. \n\n\"Brilliant show, people, but where's the pay dirt? Crank it up another few notches!\" \n\nFrom within the heavily-shielded control room, Amanda cursed, cutting off her mic. \"Doesn't he know that we're under 500 meters of water?\" She hissed over the roar of electricity. \"One malfunction and the entire Atlantic is going to be paying us a visit. \n\n\"Just do as he says.\" Sighed a deep voice from her right. \"We're only at 50%, we can afford a bit of wiggle room. Just make sure he doesn't push us too far.\" \n\nBefore Amanda could respond, her headset flared to life once more. \"Increasing generator power to thirty percent. Containment, do you copy?\" \n\nWith another curse, Amanda flipped her comms back on. \"Copy. Increasing magnetic stabilization field to seventy percent in compensation.\" \n\nAt the very center of the room, the air stirred. At first, it looked like a simple trick of the light, nothing more than a heat shimmer. Then the distortion began to grow, making a circle of air two meters across bulge like a giant droplet of water. A ripple propagated across the surface of the drop, and the distortion began to expand until it reached the very border of the containment field. It seemed to strain against the invisible wall, pushing at its borders as if it were alive. \n\n\"Unassigned portal is go, any word from the bay?\" \n\n\"Confirmed, San Fransisco portal is stable as well. Linking in three...two...one...mark!\" \n\nThe portal flared a blinding white, making Amanda flinch away and shield her eyes. Ever so slowly, the light began to dim, until behind the distortion another quarantine room nearly identical to the first began to take shape. Cheers erupted from every speaker, creating a din that was nearly deafening. \n\n\"There we go! That's what I'm talking about!\" Roared Amanda. \"About time something around here went right!\"\n\nFrom the her headset speakers, another voice cleared it's throat. \"Ahem. Confirmed with the bay area base, portal is stable. Everybody wave!\" \n\nAnother rippled passed over the portal. \n\n\"Hang on.\" Amanda called over the mic, suddenly sober. \"It's not supposed to do that! Something's wrong, cut the power!\" \n\n\"We can't cut now, we just got this thing going!\" Roared her supervisor. \n\nAmanda ignored him. \"Increasing containment field power draw to eighty percent!\" She swore into her mic as another ripple passed over the distortion. \"It's not working, cut the power dammit!\" \n\n\"I swear woman, if you ruin this test...\"\n\n\"Something's wrong with the console!\" Interrupted another voice. \"I'm locked out of the controls, this thing's drawing power as fast as we can produce it!\"\n\nThe borders of the portal shook. Slowly, like a balloon being filled with air, it began to expand. \n\n\"Increasing containment field to one hundred percent! Someone find a way to shut that thing down, even if it means cutting power from the entire base!\" \n\nThe portal shrank back, as if scared of the magnetic field, but then it began to steadily increase back up to it's original size and beyond. Suddenly, it flared white, once again blinding everyone in the room.\n\n\"We've lost our connection to San Fran! Their portal collapsed!\" The man swore. \"They're taking on water fast, calling for a full evac!\" \n\n\"Somebody cut the damn power!\" Amanda cried, squinting at her controls and hammering away in a vain attempt to eek out just a bit more power from the field generators. \n\nAn enormous boom shook the base, and the brilliant light from the portal suddenly vanished. Consoles, lights, and all other electronics flickered and cut out, plunging the room into into near-total darkness.\n\n\"Power's down! Looks like we're saved!\" Said the deep voice from before. \n\n\"...I'm not so sure, Al. Look at *that*.\" Amanda gulped, her eyes fixed forward. Pulling the headset to her neck, she stood, craning to get a better look through her window. \n\nIn the center of the quarantine chamber, something moved in the dark. It was as if a circular patch of night had been cut out of the darkness and was slowly rotating, independent of the rest of the world. As their eyes adjusted, the border of a portal became visible, bathed in a dim corona of ever-shifting light\n\n\"That shouldn't be possible!\" Al cried. \"Without a containment field or generator, the portal should have collapsed!\" \n\n\"Yet there it is.\" Amanda shook her head in wonderment. \n\n\"...Where does it go?\" Al turned to look at her, only catching the faintest silhouette of her face in the dark. \n\n\"Who knows. Could be anywhere. Hell, it might not even be on Earth for all we know. And with the airlocks down, that's the only way out...or in, for that matter.\" \n\nThere was a massive groan from above, and a corner of the ceiling bulged inwards. Water seeped from the creases of the dent. \n\nAmanda laughed humorlessly. \"Looks like we may not have a choice but to find out, old friend. I don't think we can afford to wait for a rescue.\"\n\n\n",
" \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I stood, staring impatiently at the door. It felt really crowded in this room, for all that there were only two other people. \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;One was an older fellow. His hair was solid white, not a streak of black or brown among any of the strands. His face was clean shaven, but covered in wrinkles, indicating he was quite old. I idly wondered what he was doing *here* of all places. He looked like he was dressed for work, but well past the age of retirement. \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The other person with us, I could appreciate. She was gorgeous. I'm not sure what her natural hair color was, because she definitely dyed it. It was neon green but somehow, it still looked fantastic. She was wearing baggy clothing, but somehow they managed to accentuate her curves, even without being skin tight. It was odd though. The seemed quite improperly dressed for the room. \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Suddenly a bell sounded and the door slid open. \n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Excuse me, this is my floor,\" I said, making my way between the other two, favoring the green haired woman with a smile.",
"Burning plastic has that nauseating smell at the end of its chemically scent. This place always smelled like burning plastic. Trash was always present, carpeting roads, lining gutters, filling drainage ditches. Garbage and dust, the two constants of West Africa. Whisping black plastic bags would tumble down the pot holed streets as aimlessly as the people who constantly wander to and from menial labor jobs. In a nation that was always a persistent 70% complete, there was always some work to be done.\n\nBut for the past two days the people had been almost totally absent. The spots and local, noisy corner pubs had been devoid and shuttered up. Only a lone taxi here and there darting between locations under a blistering and relentless sun. The only decorations in the streets being the party flags for all the candidates in the nearing elections. The flags from the parties and the ever present haze of dust and smog, carrying that pungent scent of torched plastic and tires.\n\nThis smell was different. _This_ smell was crushing. These fires were everywhere and the glow from the thousands of blazes lit the low hanging fog like emergency lights over a recovery site. The din of men shouting and crashing the world apart filled the stifling stillness of the evening heat. The foriegn workers had dutifully locked themselves away into their compounds and homes, seeking the safety of concealment instead of trusting in any local authority.\n\nThe local magistrate had a police force of perhaps 40 officers for a township of nearly 15,000. And some of the looters and rioters wore their dark blue uniforms out of spite, joining into the madness instead of holding their broken nation together. The embassy had told the expatriots over and over again that the elections were going to be peaceful and that the host nation hadn't experienced a civil war style conflict since its founding. Apparently, enough time has past for the new generations to ignore the lessons of the old. The elections had gone sour and the people bubbled over in a rage. The government was blamed for cheating. The foriegn aid organizations were blamed for yoking the poor nation into being addicted to interventions, and the denizens were on a prowl for blood.\n\nAll the buildings in these parts of the world were made of slabs of concrete and rebar. Tacked together with _more_ concrete and rebar. The finished structures would be painted and windows carelessly shoved into ill fitting holes with heavy safety bars welded over. The only way into each home was a single entry door, and once that was dead-bolted and padlocked, there was no escape. \n\nThe five expats huddled in the darkness of the farthest corner room, gathered round a card table, a lonely candle casting a bored orange light onto each of their faces. A doctor, a teacher, an economist, an engineer, and one wayward wanderer all cowered together, pretending to be oblivious to the small world that ripped itself apart outside. They tried not to hear the sounds of machetes smashing into windows around the villages, tried to ignore the scuffles of what sounded to be a car jacking, and when a lonely burst of gunfire erupted in the distance they shared worried glances and reassuring smiles. The cellphone towers had long been smashed and looted of their copper wire and the smartphones the expats carried offered no more safety than they already had, locked deeply away in their small community home. \n\nA crowd had started to form back at the city center, guided by a pack of raging and reeling nurses. They carried machetes, canes, and a set of bolt cutters. The mob started off toward the compound, toward the outsiders who were meddling in their nation.",
"Julius claps me on the shoulder as we walk towards the door. We've made this walk hundreds of times before and we do it in silence, not needing to say anything.\n\nMy armor rattles as I move. It's a heavy piece of equipment, but I barely feel it. No matter how many times I make this walk, I feel a rush as powerful as the first. My whole body fizzles with anticipation. With every step I take towards the door my sense of restlessness and energy increases, until I feel ready to burst.\n\nWe finally reach the door. The only way in and, later, the only way out. Julius utters some final words of encouragement and then I march on to the final part of my journey by myself. \n\nThe crowds roar as I step outside into the middle of the arena. Another man is already there, dressed in armor similar to mine and wielding a sword and shield similar to mine. In stature, he is about a foot taller and several stone heavier than me.\n\nI pause, soaking in the atmosphere, feeding off the tension and excitement. My opponent does not scare me, for I have defeated many a gladiator much larger than him. I raise my sword high, drawing a round of cheers from the spectators.\n\nTonight, every person in Rome will know my name.",
"He sat on the sidewalk, watching people enter and exit the door before him every few minutes. No one really paid him any attention, maybe because he and his coat were covered in dirt. But, that's the way life was when you didn't have a home. Cleanliness didn't matter as much as satiating your hunger, and there was certainly food to be had beyond this door.\n\nThere didn't appear to be anything special about the door or even the building. It looked similar to the rest of the buildings on this street. But there was something different about it. Most notably, when the door opened, delicious scents filled his nostrils.\n\nA couple and their child emerged from the door and walked down the street. The door stayed open for half a second before it started to close again. During that time, he was hit by a tidal wave of scents that sparked his hunger and summoned saliva. Spiced meat, potatoes, greens, oh he could almost taste it! The excitement the smells inspired brought him to his feet. Surely someone would come outside with extra food? Perhaps they would see him and share their bounty? The thought made his mouth water more.\n\nHe had to get in there.\n\nThe door had already closed again by now, but he knew it wouldn't be long before someone else exited or entered, leaving the door open briefly. So he waited, imagining the luxurious edibles that would soon be available to him. He looked down the street and saw a father and his daughter approaching him and the door. New patrons, perhaps? The little girl, bundled up in her coat, waved to him and smiled. He returned her enthusiasm as the father opened the sacred door, ushering his daughter inside. This was it. This was his chance.\n\nHe dashed inside before the door closed behind him.\n\nThe smell of the restaurant was so much more intoxicating when you were inside! Overcome by excitement and the prospect of food, he sprinted through the building, driven by hunger.\n\n\"What the...\" someone began to yell. \"Get that dog out of here!\"\n\nBut it was too late. Dashing around corners and under tables, the golden retriever found the source of the scent, stood on his hind legs, and grabbed a delicious tenderloin steak from a surprised patron's plate."
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[WP] You swerve to avoid a squirrel. Unknown to you the squirrel pledges a life debt to you. In your darkest hour the squirrel arrives.
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"I am going to die here in the darkness, my only company; rats and creaking pipes.\nHow and why I don't know, the last thing I remember was walking through town when I felt a strange sensation in my spine and then I was here.\n\nIt's felt like eternity but I have no real way to know without windows you soon lose yourself in the swirling darkness and the abyss of time.\n\nI sat there thinking how or why this could happen, I had no enemy's or dealings with gangs why would they want me, was it just for fun?\n\n————–———————–———————–—\n\nSomething scuttled across the floor, most likely just a rat little did I know my life was about to change forever.\n\n'James!' A small shrill voice squeaked from the corner of the room.\n'Who's there?' I ask my heart pounding, ready to explode from the tension.\n'I don't have much time to explain but I am here to get you out.'\nMy manacles clicked and my hands broke free of these bonds that held me in place, I flex my sore wrist and tried to make out my saviour in the darkness and I saw nothing.\n'Too your right in the top of the room there is a secret button in the brickwork press it to release the catch on the passage!' My new ally squeaked.\n\nI did as instructed and felt for any lose brick on the wall and sure enough one pushed in, I heard a click and a crunch making out an small amount of light entering the room giving me fresh hope in a world were my life nearly ended.\n\nI was I instructed to crawl through and I found my self nearly blinded my the summer sun just outside a forts wall were I had been but my saviour was nowhere to be found. I called out softly and heard a squeak from my ankle, looking down I saw a squirrel and the squirrel said, 'sir we need to get out of here before they see you are out it may already be to late.' \nWe then ran through the forests for days and nights.\n\n————–———————–———————–—\n\nOn our third day of travel I had got aquatinted with my squirrel friend and he had told me of the great tale of the squirrel king and his wicked enemy's who had kidnapped me under the pretence that the squirrel king had the debt of his life to me, the evil cats.\n\nBut how did the king have great debt to me if I didn't even know of intelligent squirrel one week before? You may ask, well let me tell you.\n\nThe year before on an cold December morning, while I was driving to the work, the squirrel king was making his way to the battle of battles against the evil cats when I had driven down the lane this battle was held in, seeing the squirrel I swerved to the left hitting the queen of cats instead.\n\nFor this the king who nearly list owes me his life and the cats well they are thirst for sweet vengeance on my very soul."
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Or maybe just a hidden fourth evolution.
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[WP] Humans don't grow gradually. We change in stages, or 'evolve' like Pokemon, from child to teen to adult. You just discovered a human Mega Stone.
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"It wasn't my choice to bring it here. \n\nIf I had known better, I probably wouldn't have. But this was the first Human Mega Stone the world would ever see. And I was going to be famous!\n\n\"Blimey, Joe. It is what you said it is,\" Donnie said, patting me on the back. \n\nThe stone matched the picture on the hunting leaflet from Bear Grylls. The guy was a maniac wildlife expert that had been searching for this particular rock for the last decade. Who knew I'd find it right under my bed. \n\nThat's right, I woke up with this baby poking through the sheets like an egg.\n\nThe news cameras flashed. My parents and sister stood at the front of the crowd waving with big smiles. And then, as the crowd parted, the man of the hour made his way to the front. \n\nMr. Grylls himself. The greatest explorer the world had ever seen. He'd climbed the Niagra falls blindfolded, swam to the bottom of the Marina Trench without a swimsuit on, and even drank a pint of Goats piss because he couldn't be bothered pouring beer. \n\nThe man was the definition of the word wild. \n\nSeriously. \n\n\"Aye, lad, you've found the stone then have you?\" Grylls asked me. \n\n\"The Human Mega Stone,\" I said. \"Is it as beautiful as you expected?\" \n\n\"Lad, I've had dreams about this thing every night for the past 36,000 days. I've even got a blow-up version of it in the back of my car which I sleep with.\" \n\nI nodded, unsure of where he was going with this. \n\n\"And let me tell you something. Never in my life have I ever seen something as beautiful as this, baby.\"\n\n\"Right. . .\" I said. \n\nBear sniffed and wiped away the tears at either eye. \"It's so darn beautiful that I'll give you two hundred billion for the darn thing.\" \n\nMy jaw just about hit the curb. \"Two Hundred. U wot mate?\" \n\nBear Grylls whipped out a cheque from his back pocket, the i's were dotted, t's crossed, and the bottom line signed. Although, I noticed he didn't have any back pockets and wondered where he had actually been keeping it. \n\n\"I'll take it,\" I said. \n\nDonnie tried to interrupt me. \n\nI pushed him away and took the cheque from Bear. \n\nThe wildlife enthusiast kissed the stone and then the crowd parted once again as he carried it to his car. \n\n\"Joe, mate,\" Donnie said. \n\n\"No need to congratulate me, Donnie. I'm set for life and yes, I will cut you some cash. I can feed the whole damn town for a life time with this kind of money.\" \n\nDonnie shook his head. \"It's not that, Joe. The science report came through from downtown. Apparently, that's an old rock. It just happens to look like the Human Evolve Stone.\" \n\nHe handed me a piece of paper with random charts and squiggles on it. I looked it over and sure enough, it seemed like the evidence was true. \n\n\"How many people know this?\" \n\n\"Just me, you, and the scientists,\" Donnie said. \n\nDonnie looked at me, I looked back at him. \"Get my family,\" I said, \"and tell the scientists to burn the evidence. We'll pay them off.\" \n\n\"Aye?\" \n\n\"We're getting to the nearest bank and then high-tailing it to the furtherest place from here.\" \n\n\"It's Bear Gryll's mate, he's swum across the bloody pacific with his toes tied together. If he finds out. . .\" \n\nI grinned. \"Let's see him catch us in space.\" \n\n\n\n",
"&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Ash Ketchum inspected the kidney stone. The coin-sized crystal shimmered in the bright Kanto sun. He had been staking Professor Oak's house for weeks, tainting his tap with high levels of minerals. Luckily the old man passed out forcing the stone from his body, allowing Ash an almost too easy obtainment of pubescent glory.\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;He stood at the edge of the tall grass. It was to be tall no more. He swallowed the crystal, squirming briefly at the acrid taste. Almost instantly he felt power coursing through his veins. His endocrine system went into overdrive, flushing his body with a heady cocktail of growth hormones. He felt as if he was being bathed in light.\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;And then as soon as it began, it was over. But Ash Ketchum did not feel older. In fact, he didn't feel any differently after all. What gives?\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Ash Ketchum!\" came a shrill shout from behind. \n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;The boy turned around to see his mother marching towards him with the deliberation of a locomotive.\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Ash Ketchum, how dare you!\" she shouted. \"Your contract states you aren't allowed to grow up for at least five more seasons!\"\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"What?\" asked the boy, perplexed. \"What did you do!\"\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"I pressed the 'B' button to prevent you from evolving.\"\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Aww, Mom!\" whined Ash Ketchum.\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Now you go to Professor Oak and apologize to him this instant, young man!\" said the woman. A felid snaked its head from behind her legs.\n\n&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;\"Meowth, that's right!\"\n\n [CUE THEME MUSIC]\n\n I wanna be the very best..."
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[WP] In a world where medicine is forbidden as "interfering with fate", a serial HEALER is on the loose.
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"\"Look, seriously I can't- I have to go!\" he said but all she could watch was his scraggly beard, her eyes were too blurry from his pills but she felt better. Her body had stopped aching and the heat had dissipated, only minutes after swallowing whatever medicine he'd stuffed into her drooling mouth. His face hazily disappeared as three tall red people pushed through her door.\n\n\"Where is he?! Ma'am, where did the Healer run to?\" One of the red men asked she let the pills take her away, into a soft easy sleep. The men scoured the house for any signs of this doctor. He was using out of date pills from eons ago to treat symptoms the government had other procedures to cure. From fevers and headaches, he prescribed these little pills called Tylenol, for infections he had an antibiotic he'd found in an old warehouse. The government would have dunked the feverish patients in cold water as they deserved for their weakness and the infection was burned out with a hot chain when the employees came into work. This man was a heretic, spreading lies about a different world before the third world war. He was a rebel.\n\n\"There's nothing here, there is never anything anywhere,\" George, the youngest of the soldiers in red said.\n\n\"He left more pills, she was given Tylenol and one of his strange antibiotics, he's been using them together more often,\" the commanding officer said, pocketing a bottle of the stuff. His nametag said Chris but they only called him The Collector. He stuffed any pill they could find into his suit and returned it to a hole in the ground outside of their barracks every night. The pills had killed someone in his family, or so the tale goes, he was after as many of them as he could find. \"Check her,\" he ordered.\n\nGeorge obliged, taking her pulse and shining a light in her eye. The girl was completely out; a helpful side effect of most of the doctor's medications. \"He has to be running out of pills. We've shut down all pharmaceutical companies in the region, burning them to the ground and each house from before the war was swept. Where is he getting them from?\" George stated.\n\n\"He's making them.\" George and his commanding officer, Chris looked at Turner, the new recruit. They'd gotten him from the middle of Kansas, he hadn't spoken much since he joined the sweep team last week. \n\n\"How? That isn't possible,\" Chris said.\n\n\"It's in the old textbooks. We have them, back where the bombs didn't land. Acetaminophen is Tylenol, essentially. It lines it all out for you- the chemicals wouldn't be hard to get. It's the only justification.\"\n\n\"He...he couldn't be...\" Chris turned away from them, pondering into the void that was this woman's home.\n\n\"We haven't found too many labeled bottles lately, maybe Kansas is right,\" George said.\n\n\"Just this powder all over the countertop. I assumed it was important but...we must stop him at the source. Report this back to camp, we need to find out what it takes to make these pills and cut off his supply of ingredients. Go, go!\" Chris shouted. The boys ran off to the convoy. Chris looked at the woman again, she was desperately in need of more antibiotics from his brother, he'd have to send more down that manhole outside of the barracks, possibly break into the army's warehouse to do it. \n\nChris needed to hide the powder somehow, divert the attention of that little farmboy, have him transferred or something, it wouldn't be long before his brother would need to resupply and pouring chemicals down a manhole was much less efficient than pills; they'd learned that the hard way. Chris looked about, no one was watching, he slipped the woman another Tylenol from his pocket before returning to the convoy. Maybe this discovery would give his brother some time at least.",
"Tonight’s the night. It has happened before and is going to happen again, and again and again.\n\nDexter felt the urge gnawing at him, in its knowing excitement that it would be let out soon. Letting out a controlled breath, he sublimated the feeling into a steady stream of focus.\n\n\n\n\nHe grabbed the remote, switching the TV’s volume all the way up and turned off the room’s lights so that the luminous tedium of modern day media could be observed by the neighbors. Softly, he hoiked up the duffel bag with the expertise of someone who had repeated the same procession hundreds upon hundreds of times. Within this bag contained the dark instruments - Syringes, morphine, antibiotics, IV’s, amphetamines and so forth – which Dexter employed to satisfy his depravity. \n\n\n\n\nHere he was: the notorious serial healer which authorities refused to acknowledge as real, as to speak of such a being was a terrifying prospect. But the people knew the legend and the streets spoke of him deferentially. A few did so with a malignant terror – believing in the institutionalized fear of medicine - but most saw him as a Robin Hood of sorts. Dexter reflected on this comparison, and it made him smile. He strode out the door with the confidence of a man with purpose, clothed by the layers of night that kept him hidden from passing eyes.\n\nAnd there she was, soundly asleep in the tangles of soft hair, pillows and blankets. She was only five, but the world had already condemned her to die. Dexter came upon this unfortunate creature while he was shopping for groceries last week. He spied the early symptoms – the slight chills that ran across her body, a tinge of the faintest shade of blue across the tips of her lips, and her shallow breathes – she wouldn’t survive if society would have its way. And indeed it would without his intervention.\n\n\n\n\nNow in the warm comforts of her room, Dexter gently laid down his duffel bag and opened it up. He placed a small humidifier on the carpeted ground, plugging it in. It winked a red light and began humming. Dexter glanced at his watch, squatted by his bag and with much dexterity moiled around, quickly placing bottles of pills successively across a nearby table - from painkillers to antivirals to antibiotics. Once the contents of the bag were empty, his fingers grasped a neatly folded piece of paper at the bottom of it and he stood up to face the door. The humming was getting louder now, and the stirrings of someone was audible. He gazed expectantly ahead.\n\n\n\n\nSuddenly, a woman dressed in a pale blue robe burst in, wide-eyed. Before she could scream, Dexter forcibly but gently pinned her against the wall, with a hand over her mouth. She could taste the plastic gloves. But in a hushed, pressing voice he said “She’s sick. If you want her to be buried at some squalid cemetery this time next week, go on and scream. If not, don’t talk, just listen.”\n\n\n\n\nThe terrified woman gave him a nod of reluctant affirmation after some consideration and Dexter’s hands slowly retreated. He offered up the piece of paper that detailed the regiment of the treatment to be used. The woman didn’t react. He stared at her and then coaxed open one of her hands, and pressed the paper against the exposed palm.\n\n\n\n\n\nDexter smiled a sad smile at her and then walked across to the bed, placing his hand over the small girl’s whip of hair. \n\n\n\n\n“Fuck fate” he muttered.\n\n\n\n\n\nAs he arched to climb down the window from whence he came, a fierce sense of deep remorse seized him. This intense feeling of distilled sadness and anger always squeezed at his heart every time his act as a serial healer was over. He knew that later that night, he would not be able to sleep with such a feeling within him. It was a feeling that was haggard and beaten down, a feeling that still longed for a different world despite knowing it would never come.\n\n\n\n\nDexter bit his bottom lip and stuck his head out the window, about to descend.\n\n\n\n\n“Thank you” pipped an innocent voice. \n\n\n\nDexter paused, unmoving. He beat down the urge to turn his head and respond, afraid that the floodgates of emotions that he didn’t allow himself to feel would be unleashed and drown him.\n\n\n\nHe bit his bottom lip harder until he could taste the flow of warm blood and wordlessly jumped down.\n\n\n\nEDIT: Spelling and some formatting and a lil content. I'd really appreciate any feedback!\n\n\n\n\n\n",
"\"And lastly, Pachinsky and Markov. You're on the Panacea copycat. Dismissed.\"\n\n\"Hell yeah dude, that's a high profile case. Up top!\" I said, throwing my hand up for Mark to high five. He considered the offer for a second or so before reluctantly complying. \n\n\"I have to admit, the case does look interesting.\" He said, a smile forming on his face as we walked back to our desks.\"\n\n\"I know right!\" I said, making no effort to disguise my excitement. \"I remember reading all about the Panacea Healer in the papers growing up, it was the *mystery of the century*!\" I motioned a headline with my hands for the last part.\n\nThe Panacea Healer, sometimes simply referred to as 'Panacea' had stayed ahead of official investigations for 8 years before they apprehended him. He was even a big factor in how this task force got approved, if you are to believe the press. \n\nAnd Detective Markov, or Mark as we call him around the office, had gotten himself in on the ground floor. He had been thrust into the spotlight after his spectacular arrest on the 'Eir' case, and as such the brass assigned him to the Bureau of Fate Interference or BFI for short. He was one of the few actual veterans you saw in our line of work.\n\nSo imagine my delight when I find out I'm assigned as his partner. A living legend working with a rank amateur like myself! Now sure, maybe I'm the greatest rank amateur in the history of rank amateurs, but it was still a great opportunity. We had only worked small time medicine smuggling up until now, this was our first healer case and I was more than a little bit excited.\n\n\"So what do we do first?\" I asked expectantly when we were seated behind our respective desks. \"Question the victims? Check out the crime scenes? I can have John from CSI here in 5.\"\n\nHe didn't even look up as he answered. \"No, we need to know what to look for before we do any of that. Try and see if you can find some ties between the victims instead. I'll fill in forms that will allow us access to the old case files, and then we'll cross reference that with the current case.\"\n\nDamn, I got ahead of myself. Every time I forget my inexperience, Mark's Wisdom puts me back in my place. Really goes to show how much work I still need to put in. With that in mind, I dove into the case files head first.\n\n\n\"Any thread connecting the victims yet?\" Mark said, as he walked to his desk and unfolded his umbrella. \n\n\"Nothing.\" I said throwing up my arms in capitulation. \"None of the victims share the same background, familial ties or even financial situation. It's almost as if they were specifically targeted to throw us off.\"\n\nMark smirked at that. \"Well, wallow in despair no longer apprentice, for the case files have arrived-\"\n\n\"-and so has yours truly\" we both said in unison.\n\n\"Didn't peg you for a Caelstrom reader Morgan.\" He said after a brief pause, looking pleasantly surprised.\n\n\"Guess I'm just full of surprises.\" I said, a shit eating grin on my face. \"Anyway, about those case files.\"\n\n\"Ah, yes!\" He said, throwing the files over onto my desk. \"Good news I think. I looked over them on the ride over, and to my surprise-\"\n\n\"-None of the victims are related in any way...\" I interrupted half-consciously while flipping through the documents in my hand.\n\n\"Exactly!\" He said in the most excited voice I'd ever heard him use. \"The Modus operandi is starting to overlap more and more with the original Panacea Healer! We know that he acts alone, when he strikes, and now who he targets\"\n\n\"So at this point we can assume everything else will line up, and work our way backwards.\" I contributed.\n\n\"Precisely! Now come on Morgan, I've a few questions I'd like to ask these victims of ours, and we've no time to spare.\"\n\n\"Yes sir!\" I answered, fetching my coat, grinning from ear to ear.\n\n\nThe woman we interrogated was staring at a point right in between us with the customary dead eyes associated with the Healed. I used to dread seeing those eyes because of the memories that surfaced, but in my profession it is a necessity and I spent hours in therapy for moments like these. \n\nEven still, we were short on time so I went to question the victims parents after it was clear my presence was not needed. I was talking to the victims mother about anything the victim had mentioned since the Healing when Mark stormed through the room, excused us, and signaled for us to leave. I barely had time to take a seat before we were already driving down the road at dangerous speeds. \n\n\"What's this all about Mark?\" I asked him once I regained balance. \"What did she tell you in there?\"\n\nHe just smiled at that. \"I know where he is.\" He said without taking his eyes off the road. \"I just don't know for how long, so we must get there as soon as possible.\"\n\nI fixed my eyes on the road, and suppressed a smile. I'd never been this excited in my entire life.\n\n\nMy head was pounding. Where was I? What had happened? Why did I hurt all over? I tried opening my eyes, and was met with a cloud of thick smoke picking away at my vision. I stated coughing, my realizing I'd been inhaling smoke, but that hurt my chest a lot more than is reasonable. Several broken ribs, at best. Shit. \n\nI could hear someone opening the door right next to me, and allowed myself a second to relax. Mark had probably gotten out on his end and was already helping me. What a nice guy, i thought. When I was laying on the soft grass, I finally allowed myself to open my eyes again. The night sky looked so beautiful, a particularly starry night to be sure. \n\nBut then I saw him. His eye were twice the size of a human, and reflected all light appearing completely white and radiant. His hair was cut short and entirely Teal, showing almost no separation between strands of hair. He was dressed in all white, except for on his chest where blood in the shape of a cross had been smeared. \n\nIt was him. Oh god it was him! I wanted to cry, to yell and scream and fight! But my body would not listen, and I could only watch in horror as he picked up the instruments that would subject me to a fate worse than death. I wanted to die. I wanted someone to, right there and then, put me out of my misery. But salvation didn't come. I was trapped. And as he leaned in, all I could see was that unnatural smile that reached from ear to ear and nose to chin, and then there was nothing.",
"\"Ouch!\" I hissed, as my finger dripped fresh blood onto my homework. I suckled on it, the spit acting as a natural painkiller. I went over to the kitchen to grab my hidden supply of bandages to wrap around the cut.\n\nI looked around in nervous anticipation, waiting for *them* to show up to \"monitor\" me. They didn't come, and I sighed in relief. I opened my cabinet quickly, and fished out a small box of band-aids. There was only one left, and I used it. Last thing I needed was having a long, stern talking-to behind bars. Heading back over to the living room with an empty box in hand, the T.V. droned off in the background.\n\n\"...and now with the nine-o-clock news. Just this morning, a reported individual wearing nothing but white and a stethoscope was seen about the Southern District...\" I took out my pocket lighter, and threw some kindling into my firepit, along with the box. \n\n\"...the man is armed and dangerous, he is equipped with sterile needles, and a PhD. Contact Health Insurance immediately if you are to come in contact with him. I repeat...\" I flicked the lighter a few times, before the flames sputtered to life. The kindling takes a moment to catch flame, but eventually the fire spread enough to erase the evidence. \n\nDistant, but audible sirens are heard as I stand up, and stiffen. Did they find me? It was too early! I shot to the curtains, waiting for the Health Insurance nuts to break down my door. They didn't come. I wasn't going to take chances though. Wincing slightly, I ripped off the adhesive band-aid and threw it into the fire. I hissed, as peeling off the bandage re-opened the wound once more. I could handle it. It wasn't *that* bad.\n\n\"...Health Insurance is currently in pursuit of the criminal. He is suspected to be around Helms Way, where H.I. have lost sight of him. Lock your doors, and let no suspicious individuals into your homes. Stay safe.\" Wait. Helms Way was... *my* neighborhood. \n\nBanging came from my door. Not the front, which was a *good* thing\". Because it meant that it wasn't those H.I. nuts. But that also meant that the one causing the commotion was either a *very* dedicated Jehova's Witness, who would sell off his \"Jesus is almighty\" spiel in the dead of night, or it was that doctor. I made way for the stairs, pretending as though nobody was there. The banging increased, but then stopped for an usual moment. I listened closely from the railing-\n\n\"1...2...3!\" at the end of the count followed a heavy bang on my back door, as the poor thing was ripped from its hinges. I didn't breathe. I didn't move. I didn't even *blink*. I stood there in horror hoping that the man would leave if he assumed nobody was home.\n\n Footsteps. They were getting closer. And closer. And closer. And clo- \n\n\"Did I hear... Someone say Ouch!?\" The man laughed, peering at me through the stair railings. I *screamed*. I backed away up the stairs, and as a result, tripped into an awkward, screeching mess. I was fairly sure that my legs were bruised now, but that was the least of my problems. Following my fall, the white clothed horror pounced me, brandishing illegal items: bandages, ointments, and by the gods that be- *painkillers.*\n\nSniffing about the air with his hands holding down mine, he stared with at my finger with a ferocious glint, seeming ready to devour me whole. With one swift motion, he rips open three band-aids, deftly wrapping each one around the cut at inhuman speeds. I sobbed, reigning myself to him, for he had soiled me. I wouldn't be able to go back after this.\n\nBut it wasn't over yet. On accident, he brushed by my bruised leg, and I let out a small yelp. He rolled up my pant legs, baring the skin for all to see. I tried to shake him off, but his grip was *inhuman*! It's almost like he was OD'd on vitamins, which I wouldn't doubt. Unscrewing the lid for some ointment, he smears two fingers in the jar, and coats it over where I'd been impacted the most when I fell.\n\nHe released me, packed up his things, and took out a piece of paper. He scribbled something onto it and left it on the ground, as he darted for my front door. I didn't stop him. I sat there in a sobbing mess at how *violated* I'd been. Sirens were heard in the background as a cascade of footsteps were approaching my house. I didn't care anymore.\n\n\"Second Secretary, secure the premises! Search this house up and down with your squad. Move, move, *move!*\" He picked up the piece of paper, and crumpled it into a ball, throwing it angrily at the wall. \"Damn it. *Another* prescription! That loony strikes again. This is the 5th one this month!\" He looked down at me, face expression of mixed pity and regret.\n\n\"Don't worry. You'll be ok.\" He pulled out his sidearm, chambering it. \"You'll be ok.\"",
"\"Dad! DAD!\" \n\nI tossed my windswept hair over my shoulder as I unfastened my seat-belt and bolted to my dad laying on the floor, key and door completely forgotten. It was breathtaking, seeing him bleeding out his color, laying misshapen on the floor and--No, he will be fine. He'll be fine.\n\nI blinked away tears that were stabbing the back of my pupils like spears as I ripped my jacket and tied it unprofessionally around his wound. Another gang uprising, another victim, and another reason I hated living in this area. \n\n\"No... I hate this entire world,\" I muttered, checking for a pulse. Thank God. It was weak, but there. The cellphone he used to call me lay broken next to him. Of course, he'd called me in his time of need. Who else would help him in an emergency?\n\n\"Dad... Dad, are you there? Can you hear me?\" I whispered. His eyes fluttered but he was in no shape to walk. I wasn't exactly an athlete myself. Both of us let out our trademark family groans (him because of the excruciating pain, me because I worked a desk job and I really was not cut out to carry an 58-year-old overweight man) as I tried, and failed, to carry him to my car. \n\nI unceremoniously dropped him and looked around in panic. Not a soul in sight. So this was it. This was the end for him and my family. My mother had gone out in a similar way, and since that day, I had sworn I would never live or work too far away from my dad. But what good had that ever done? \n\nI bit my bottom lip. Once upon a time, I used to take extra care to not injure myself, but now I refused to care. Soon, my tears mixed with blood as I sobbed into my dad's chest. In a few minutes, a few short minutes, I would be all alone...\n\nA siren. I thought not much of it. Maybe the police were doing their job for once. But it grew louder and I could actually see the blaring lights contrasted against the dark night sky. But why was the vehicle so big? Was it not a police cruiser, but a fire truck? Was it coming for me?\n\n\"THERE'S NO FIRE, YOU MOR...\" I stopped myself as it braked right next to my dad. It was neither a fire truck nor a police cruiser. What it was, I had no idea.\n\nBut out stepped a face I knew quite well. A face that was actually stamped on a wanted poster on a building opposite me. I was a really loud person, so when my speech failed me, I was even more appalled.\n\nHis dancing green eyes rested on my dad, then on me. It wasn't even for a tenth of a second, but it was the longest stretch of time I'd ever experienced. \n\nHe quickly sprung into action, and as though he'd done this a million times, has my father on what I thought was a really skinny table with wheels in his bizarre vehicle.\n\n\"Mind helping me?\" he asks of me, his eyes now cool and soft."
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[WP] You are incredibly good at social situations... thanks to the ever-changing background music that only you seem to be able to hear.
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"I sat at the coffee shop with my fiancé Brooke. We had been engaged for about 6 months and were aggressively planning our wedding. Sure, it was stressful, but worth every second. The smooth jazz constantly empowering my internal presence assured me that every small argument we had over this matter was completely harmless. \n\nAll seemed well until Brooke's ex walked into the coffee shop (He had a brown vest on for some reason. Looked kind-of retro)\n\nAs the music remained the same, I assumed he was not going to come talk with us, or even see us with that matter. The ambience knows everything after all. \n\nJust then… out of nowhere…. the smooth jazz turned to the…. the Imperial March (I had never seen Star Wars. But I knew it from that Volkswagen commercial. Funny stuff) \n\nSomething was coming. It had to be Jerry. Stupid Jerry. He was going to come try to fight me and get Brooke back. I had to be ready. As the music slowly built up, Jerry noticed us.\n\nHe was coming our way.\n\nEven thought I was proud of myself for finally having my powers adjust to music used in the media, I had to act. I saw something shiny in his pocket too. This was all happening so fast. \n\nAs he got closer, he reached into this pocket for the shiny object.\n\n“Hey Brooke and-“\n\nBefore he could say any more, I decked him in the face. He wasn’t completely knocked out, but he was close. It was a good punch. I was proud of myself. It had to be done.\n\nA gasp came from the fellow coffee shop goers and the Imperial March stopped, and the smooth jazz came back on.\n\n“Dave, what the hell?”\n\nThe shiny object then came out of his pocket…. and it was one of those mints you get at coffee shop counters.\n\n“Brooke… the music… it was….”\n\nThe manager then walked up to me.\n\n“I can’t believe you started on a fight on Mos Eisley Cantina Night! You’re out of here!”\n\nThat is when I noticed the band. Shit. \n"
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If you don't understand what i mean think of Digimon Our war game by what i mean
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[WP] Years ago a group of heroes banded together to defeat a great evil. Now many years later a new evil has emerged and plans world domination. its up to the heroes to stop them once more. But because of the passing time and history between then and now the heroes are weary to work together again
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"The knight stood ready, his armor gleaming as ever. The mage walked up, wizened in his own age as he leaned on his staff. He pushes his hand up with his thumb, examining the young knight. He wheezed,\"Hello, Percival. Has anyone else come yet?\" Percival pushed his visor up, his gauntlets squeaking. Henrik, the mage, knew that they would be freshly oiled. \"Where is Amelia?\" The ranger had not come yet, the young woman was slightly older than Percival, and more experienced by far. \"Do you think its time, Henrik?\" He shook his head, feeling at his beard. \"I know what will happen. I always have. This is our last adventure, my old friend.\" He looked at him with his faded blue eyes. \"Are you sure, Henrik? This can't just be it, can it?\" He shook his head,\"I wish it was not, but I fear Amelia will not.. Well, you shall find out the rest later.\" They heard the familiar noise as padded leather hit the path, and Henrik closed his eyes. \"We shall not survive this time. The darkness has grown too great.. Oh, we were all fools. How ancient I was last it came, and how ancient I am now..\" Percival looked to him,\"Who could possess the power now? I know it can take anyone, but.. It's not someone close to us, is it?\" He nodded. \"It is, I have foretold it already. And, I believe, it is someone closer than you think.\" He gave him a faint smile, and looked deep into the fog. A face popped out of the mist, holding a bow adorned with runes. She walked, runes adorning her bow as she walked. Darkness covered her face underneath its hood, runes glowing upon her face. Percival stammered, he was but a boy when they journeyed together, and they had grown to be legends together. \"It cannot be!\" The man lifted his staff, smiling. \"So it is.\" Darkness shrouded his irises, and he turned, holding the staff in both hands. Runes covered his face,\"And so it goes.\" Electricity spat out of the end of the wand, and he turned, looking at the girl. She was but an illusion, he had disposed of her long ago. \"And so, the darkness is mine. It offered me the years, and I took them.\" He wept not, grinning instead. He felt a sharp pain his back, turning to meet two familiar eyes. A woman with a bow, she was not an illusion, though her pale face shown her to be little more than a ghost. \"And so the darkness dies with you..\" He felt another sharp pain pierce his check, and felt his heart become struck. He laughed, knowing that he had made a mistake then.. He had grown too ancient and foolish."
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Bonus points if it's funny.
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[WP] Write the first hand account of a traumatized skeleton or human during the skeleton wars.
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"The humans were entrenched across the field, poised to fire their muskets at us the moment we came out of cover. Our force was five hundred strong, theirs a measly three hundred. I had my musket loaded and was in line for the initial charge towards the enemy, I glanced at my weapon which had my name engraved in the stock where it read \"Slim Pickens\". I skimmed the horizon, at my fellow musketeers, preparing to follow the swordsmen and spear men into battle.\n\nThe charge began shortly after, a hail of bullets taking down most of our front lines, I and a few other musketeers took shots at the entrenchments but to no avail. That's when the screams began. a large chunk of humans ran towards us with bayonets fixed, receiving covering fire from their fellow soldiers back in the trench, we had no cover and no time to retreat. most of the first charge fell in the initial barrage from the trenches the rest were picked off by either the covering fire or the bayonet wielding maniacs.\n\nI took out three humans before getting stabbed in the sternum, rendering me useless for weeks, I was commended for holding my ground and taking out three humans on my own. I received the Jolly Roger, the highest award a living skeleton could receive, I took the award and now I am being sent back to the front lines as a sergeant.\n\nThere are stories about how sergeant Slim Pickens commanded his men into battle while charging with them head on into the plight that was, The Great Skeleton War.",
"Projectiles zip by me as I propel myself above the ledge. I duck down immediately, as an arrow flies through the air my head was in. In no immediate danger, I allow the weight of my backpack to overwhelm me as I slink slowly to the concrete ground, covering my ears to block out that horrible sound. That neverending, eerie doots from the trumpet. I shut my eyes only to be greeted by my nightmares, the same nightmares that were tearing my unit apart behind me, causing my eyelids to shoot back open. \n\nThose bony, cackling skeltals came too fast. Too sudden. I shiver as I remember the long trains of terror easily crushing our thought-to-be-formidable armoured tanks. I remember watching helplessly as bony arms grabbed my comrades left and right and dragged them, screaming and struggling, into the wild ride of Mr. Bones. I remember the skeltals leaping out of their carriages charging at our lines, our machine guns completely ineffective against their calcium-enhanced bones. I remember—\n\nA long doot from a trumpet ripped me straight out of my thoughts, as I heard the shriek of a fellow man as he was brutally cut to pieces. No. I am a human. I will not go out like this to these bony sons of bitches. Grabbing my weapon, I propel myself above the ledge, back into the fray."
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[WP] The best part of your day is using virtual reality to play as Janova White surviving a zombie apocalypse. The best part of Janova White's day are those few hours getting to live as Kevin Peters, a normal guy who likes VR.
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"Janova sipped her coffee, smile tearing at her lips and the hot drink threatened to burn her. \n\nHer favorite shop took nearly her entire session to get to, but the place was worth it. A heavy brick wall was at her back, a deadend alley and a long high-vis street was all that was around. Few cars, and fewer pedestrians, no matter what time of day. \n\nShe tried to relax as best she could, but never stopped peeking toward the nearby fire escape, if it it may try to get up and leave her. \n\nShe looked at Kevin's cell phone, and it was nearly when he would stop for the evening. \n\nJanova didn't care, and had hoped he found himself whatever kind of peace in her world he was looking for. She hoped he would take the time to savor it, she way she savored his single cup of hot black coffee. \n\nShe pondered the possibility of other survivors as the owner of the shop came over. \n\n\"Here you go, here's a loyalty card. You keep coming here and never taking them.\"\n\n\"Oh, I'm sorry. We really aren't supposed to-\"\n\n\"I know. I know. Zero impact to the host. But I've seen that look before, back when wars happened in reality too.\"\n\nHe looked down again, but never finished his discussion. Janova didn't mind, and continued her coffee. She closed her eyes and inhaled the aroma deeply, even with a near scalding mouthful roasting her tongue.\n\nShe felt the tingle and sting of the transfer happening, and willed herself not to swallow. She was determined to savor this as long as possible.\n\nShe shoulder ached, and her arm hurt. Her legs felt like cement and her head swam. \n\nJust a few seconds longer. It felt like Kevin didn't have a good session, and she hated cleaning up his messes. \n\n*And she really hated getting bit.*\n\n"
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[WP] It is the year 43,002. You are the pilot of the spaceship Millennium Pigeon. Wherever you fly the ship, a terrible disaster happens.
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"Ah yes, I guess you could call me a master of this vacuum we call Space. I've covered Joflienus to Iupra to Triea 717J. When I say cover, I don't mean like a blanket. No, I know this galaxy like a goddamn Encyclopedia. Yet, whenever I fly this damn ship, I always find disaster. I've fought Qleisteds in the Goz sector, I've bartered with a travelling band of Dyns, I've hit every home run possible brother. I've crashed countless ships, I've escaped multiple assassination e-\n\nWRRRRRRRRRRRRRPT\n\nThe airlock opened, as Captain Ramir blinked rapidly at the cadet interrupting his captain's log. \n\n\"Uh sir, the escape chute is clogged again\"\n\n\"Oh why uhm.... I'll send for a space plumber\"\n\n\"How? We're in the middle of goddamn nowhere, always doing some mundane shit like delivering random shit from Space China to Space America\"\n\n\"I know I know no need to exposite me.\"\n\n\"Well how are we going to get rid of all these goddamn stringed cheese wrappers? And what's with you and string cheese anyhow?\"\n\n\"Look, I'll have you know cadet that space cheese is a great source of space protein for your space diet.\"\n\nThe cadet sighed, and stared at the cap for awhile. Cap stared back. It got awkward. \n\n\"Well uhm...\n\n...\n\n I'll be going now, Cap\"\n\n\"You do that, cadet, you do that\"\n\nWRRRRRT \n\nThe airlock closed and the Cap let out a sigh. He turned to his desk, and opened the drawer on his right. Cap stared at the space gun for awhile, and sat back in his space chair, still looking at the space drawer in his space ship. "
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[WP] The Rapture has already happened. God and the good people left a long time ago. You, and the world, just found out.
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"**WELL OF COURSE I ALREADY RAPTURED EVERYONE** God said.\n\n\"But,\" Maria said, \"I've been a devout Christian all my life!\"\n\n\"Hey,\" Abdul said, \"I've been a devout Muslim!\"\n\n\"And I,\" Chester McThirdPerson said, \"have been Agnostic, but have done many good deeds with my life.\"\n\n**WELL SORRY BUT NONE OF THAT IS WHAT I WAS LOOKING FOR**\n\n\"Well what was it, then?\" Maria said.\n\n**WHAT I WANT, MORE THAN ANYTHING, IS TO NOT BE SUBJECTED TO SOME BIZARRE SCENARIO EVERY SINGLE DAY. SO I RAPTURED UP TO HEAVEN ANY PERSON WHO HAD NEVER SUBMITTED A PROMPT ABOUT ME TO WRITING PROMPTS**\n\n\"But...\" Abdul said, \"nobody vanished?\"\n\n***FREAKING EXACTLY!***"
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[WP] It happens a few times before you realize what's going on. Everyone you sleep with dies within a year.
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"\"Hi, I had a 9 o'clock appointment.\" I put on my most charming smile for the cute receptionist, casually leaning forward placing my arms in front of me in a state of plausibly deniable flexion. I try not to blush as she cutely pulls aside a small lock of blonde hair that fell in her face when she looked up at me. I had a glimmer of hope as she began to smile, but it turned to despair as I immediately recognized that smile. Just a generic polite receptionist smile. Damn. Probably for the best anyway considering my...situation. \n\n\"Alright I'll need you to sign in here,\" she says as she taps a finger on a sheet of paper on the counter in front of me, \"and fill out these forms,\" placing a clipboard in front of me.\n\nI quickly scrawl out my information on the sign in sheet and find a seat. I make my way through the forms, but hit a roadblock at the bottom of the second. 'Symptoms:...' Great. Now I get to have the cute receptionist see me as the guy with Sexual Murder Disorder. I just write down 'Headaches' and turn in the forms. This whole situation really has been a headache after all.\n\nI flip through a Men's Health magazine while I wait, skipping over the \"Tips for a Killer Sex Life.\" article. I'd say I've got that covered. Finally I get called back, so I follow the nice middle aged woman who leads me to my 'Waiting Room 2.0' as I like to call it. It's your standard looking examination room. Small cushioned table, cheap white cabinets, white counter with a small sink and a few generic medical supplies. I sit on the small cushioned table covered by the annoying layer of white tissue paper that crinkles constantly and tears too easily for me to believe it's really all that useful. I actually don't spend much time waiting before a kind looking man in a lab coat walks in. \n\n\"Hello Mr. Wilford. What seems to be the problem today? Having some headaches?\" he asks with a knowing smile.\n\nI give an awkward smile, half embarrassed, half relieved by his casual demeanor. \"Well not exactly. I've actually started to notice that after a while...ummm...when I've, you know, been with a girl she, uh...mmmm....kinda...dies.\"\n\n\"You mean they get sick and die?\" he says, intrigued.\n\n\"No they don't really get sick. They just...die.\"\n\n\"Not from illness?\" he asks, sounding more and more doubtful.\n\n\"Well one did, yes. One died in a car crash, and one fell out of a window.\"\n\nThere is a moment of silence as he looks at me, doubt slowly turning into concern. \"Okay... Well Mr. Wilford I can run some tests and try to see if there's anything going on.\"\n\n\"I'd appreciate that. Thank you.\" At this point I can't even look at him and just stare down at my feet while he proceeds. He draws a few vials of blood, keeping silent the whole time, then leaves immediately after. I sat wondering whether or not he would be coming back to tell me if I should go. \n\nIn what had to have been less than 15 minutes he comes back in through the door with a very concerned look across his face. My stomach drops and I can just tell I'm going to be getting the bad news. \n\n\"Mr. Wilford I'm afraid we've discovered MOR.\" he says sympathetically.\n\n\"I knew it. I killed those girls. Why would they do this to me?!?\" I exclaim. Tears overflowing from the tremendous guilt.\n\n\"Now I'll admit that sexual contact is rarely used for a Method Of Reaping for a number of reasons, especially not with only a one year incident delay, but that likely means that you beat the odds. You could almost be proud of this.\" he flashed a weak smile accompanied by a shrug of the shoulders. \"You probably just weren't expected to have sex very often. Or keep the girls around long enough to realize, at least.\"\n\n\"Well hooray for me! The Association of Grim Reapers thought I was more of a loser than I actually am!\" I announce as I raise my hands in mock celebration. \"Is that supposed to cheer me up?!?\" I snap back at him angrily.\n\n\"Now look, none of us want to know how we reap, but in cases like this you can easily get a transfer which will include a change in MOR.\" He places a comforting hand on my shoulder. \"I'll have the receptionist, Samantha, give you the transfer request forms and you can send them in to the Association tonight if you'd like. It normally only takes a couple of weeks and you'll forget all about those girls.\"\n\n\"I suppose you're right.\" I sigh. He ushers me out the door. I begin walking back out the way I came in, wiping away the last of my tears and the snot dripping from my nose. I take a couple seconds to compose myself before I walk out of the door to the waiting room, clear my throat, pat down the front of my shirt, and stand up tall. I walk out and right up to the receptionist desk.\n\n\"Hello there, Samantha. I was told you have something to give me that I'd really enjoy.\" I say with a coy smile.\n\nShe blushed, pulling another lock of blonde hair away from her face. \"I sure do.\" she said shyly. She handed me the transfer forms and gave me a smile. \"There's a little something extra, too.\"\n\nI turned to leave and looked down at the forms to see her number written on a sticky note on top. 'You're damn right I beat the odds!' I thought."
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[WP] God is upgrading the universe to a new and improved operating system
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" def POST_newPost(sr, user, title, content):\n if sr.name.lower() == 'writingprompts':\n if 'god' in title.lower():\n return Error(403, \"Not another god prompt!\")\n\n\"There,\" said God, \"that ought to make it so I can actually get some rest, finally.\"\n\n\"The universe's operating system is written in Python?\" Gabriel asked.\n\nGod shrugged. \"I know, I know, it's not a 'systems' language. The important low-level bits are all assembly, of course, but I don't bother with that for the high-level stuff. When you've got a machine this powerful,\" he patted the universe, \"you can afford the overhead.\"\n\n\"No, no, that's not what I mean,\" Gabriel said. \"I mean, it's 'Python'. As in snakes? They've kinda got a reputation after the whole 'eden' thing. Bad connotations there.\"\n\n\"Oh, you're kidding me!\" God said, \"Do you have any idea how many lines of code there are in this thing?\"\n\nGabriel shrugged. \"It's just we really don't want any association with the Adversary, if we can help it.\"\n\n\"Fine,\" God said. \"I'll rewrite it in PHP.\"\n\nThat'd show him.",
"With a wave of his hand, the simulation came on. \n\n\"So what are some of the biggest problems Omniverse 2.0 faced?\" God started, \"Michael?\" he turned to the archangel. \n\n\"We shouldn't have quarantined Lucifer right where we were doing our developmental program.\" he replied. Michael was ticked off. Developing I-Apocalypse armor had taken ages and when it was released he had to do battle with Lucifer for 100000 earth years, way longer than he had expected it to take.\n\nThe room was silent. Everyone knew Lucifer was only kept there because he was a key component of creation, what with being the morning angel and God had even mentioned once he didn't like the idea, but there was no way to remedy it at the time. \"Alright, this time gravity will be an independent force not reliant on any Angel.\" He jotted it down. \n\n\nGabriel raised his hand. The creator pointed at him, \"before we even started, I had warned you that smart matter in 2.0 was susceptible to viruses, it had too many vulnerabilities and upgrades were so costly, we could only afford to do one every million years or so.\" \n\n\"you're right. what do you think? Do we make major installments in this new version or do we have upgrades installed as we make them?\" God asked as he jotted in the air with quicksilver particles. \n\n\"They were too many to ever do at once and they just kept on coming. I think smart matter should have smaller more frequent upgrades instead of major operational changes at once.\" Gabriel said. Many nodded in agreement. \n\n\"But can their physical state handle all their upgrades?\" God asked, \"remember how last time storage space became a problem.\" \n\n\"Well the evolution modifiers were working, albeit slower then the upgrades came.\" Gabriel stated. \n\nGod rotated his finger and the image of a male and female form came up. He pried them open and the room kept mum as he did his analysis.\"I think it's... No I'm sure it's possible. Physical Evolution can be rushed with use of better elements.\" \n\n\"Ambriel you're awfully quiet what do you have to say?\" God asked turning to the quiet angel preening her wings. She was the one responsible for the quick turnaround they had with the last creation. Ambriel smiled, a smile that only came from one who hated raising her hand but delighted in being called upon. \n\n\"Smart matter 2.0 did prove to be very proficient in some tasks. I don't think they have to be done on a remote server. Also, given all the suggestions we had already seen do we have to stick to one omniverse? Can't we have a multiverse with different versions of smart matter.\" \n\nThe room broke out in murmur as they considered the monolithic task she suggested. God raised his hand silencing them. \n\n\"Wait, wait. this isn't a bad idea but it took long enough creating 100 billion souls last time. This sounds like a long term suggestion.\" \n\n\"Not if we use some of the previous souls to start with. Each universe could get it's own billion to start with.\" she responded. \n\n\"But where are we going to get over fifty...\" \n\n\"Jesus saved.\" \n\nThey all turned to Christ. \"Did you? All of them?\" \n\nHe shrugged his shoulders. \"Well, most of them. Some were beyond redemption but I'd say we salvaged around 80 billion, 81,258,364,187 to be precise.\" Cheers broke out in the hall. Michael fist pumped in relief as the guilt of ending mankind in apocalypse 2.0 faded a bit. \n\n\"That's wonderful! I thought we had to start back at Eden. Good work!\" \n\nLaughter of relief broke out as some even went to hug the son. Raphael's suggestion was only heard by God as the chatter rose. \"I don't think they should have lost the tails. You should reintegrate them as you set the upgrades.\" \n\n\"Definitely, have tails this time.\"",
"God, wearing a business suit and tie and carrying a briefcase, was walking through heaven as if she owned the place (she did, of course) when she recieved a call.\n\n\n\"Miss God?\" his wireless headset asked. \"Miss God? We have a server problem up in Universe 212F.\"\n\n\nGod sighed. \"I'll be right there.\" She closed her eyes and, as if it was second nature (it was), teleported away. She opened her eyes in server room 212F, where she was greeted by a humanoid angel with a five o' clock shadow and a Mountain Dew.\n\n\n\"Miss God?\" the angel muttered. \"It looks like the chaos of this universe is producing strange side effects.\"\n\n\nGod took a look at the console. \"Oh, my.\"\n\n\nThe angel took a swig of soda and nodded. \"It looks like the last interference with this world was about -10000 years in their time. We can see that you created a life form. The comments say you were experimenting with bipedal life.\"\n\n\nGod nodded. \"I didn't think it was possible for non-angelic beings at the time. I remember. Let me see a few snapshots of that planet.\"\n\n\nThe angel swiveled away in his swivel chair and glugged more Mountains Dew. God took the mouse in her hand and began to examine the situation.\n\n\n\"Oh my God,\" she exclaimed to the angel's delight. She turned and gave him an icy glare. \"I'm not saying oh my me anymore. That was a good April Fool's but not fit for the rest of eternity.\"\n\n\n\"But oh my God. I didn't give them free will! And this Bible stuff... one of the angels must have been trolling. I didn't-- okay, the Jesus stuff was me. I did order that to happen. But... yeesh.\"\n\n\nShe made a few more clicks, and the astonishment continued. \"What the hell is the flying spaghetti monster? And why is he running for pres-- okay, okay. God, what happened?\"\n\n\n\"The randomness coefficient was set at 0.01,\" chimed in the angel.\n\n\n\"It should be 10 to the negative 30th!\" God exclaimed. \"Dear Lord. Okay, I'm resetting the server.\"\n\n\n\"Should we get the defense crew?\" The angel looked almost excited.\n\n\n\"It'll be five minutes. Satan isn't that fast.\"\n\n\nShe turned off the computer and mentally changed the randomness coefficient.\n\n\n\"You're sure Satan isn't messing with you as we speak?\"\n\n\n\"Nah,\" God replied. She turned on the computer and--\n\n\n\"Sweet Lord! The whole thing's on fire!\""
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[WP] Like evolution, your sentences evolve from previous ones.
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"I'm a Bsc candidate, and I warn you, evolution is a tricky process.\n\nI'm a Bsc, and I warn, evolution is a tricksy process.\n\nI'm a Bsc, and I warn, evolution can be a tricksy process.\n\nI'm a Bsc, and I, ev0luti0n can be a sp0ntane0us pr0cess.\n\nI'm a Bsc, and evolution can be a spontaneous process.\n\nI'm a Bsc, and evolution can be a spontaneous a spontaneous a spontaneous a spontaneous process.\n\nI'm a Bsc, and genes can be a spontaneous a sp0ntane0us pr0cess.\n\nI'm a Bsc; evolution can be a spontaneous and spontaneous pr0cess.\n\nI'm a Bsc; evolution can be a spontaneous and unchanging process.\n\nI'm a Bsc; evolution can be a boring and unchanging process.\n\nI'm a Bsc; evolution can be a boring and unchanging process.\n\nI'm a Bsc; evolution can jump over useless inbetween states if they severely damage survival rate.\n\nI'm a Bsc, and I warn, genes can be spontaneousseverely revived.\n\nI'm a Bsc, and I warn, genes can be spontaneously revived.\n\nI'm a Bsc, and I just taught you a bit about evolution."
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[WP] The villain, it turns out, was just selflessly helping you become the hero.
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"I must do this for my brethren.\n\nFor millennia we have fought the cruellest of villains, only to be defeated time and time again.\n\nYears of torture and punishment weighing us down, burdening us with the shackles of failure.\n\nThe giant mocks us every day with his presence. Commanding his beast to swoop down upon us and attack us when we least expect it.\n\nI have heard reports from my scouts that he appears to others at roughly the same time.\n\nMaybe this villain can take many forms, changing shape on a whim.\n\nAll I know is that today will be his downfall.\n\nToday I will strike him down and bring peace to my brethren.\n\nBut first, I must rest.\n\n“Jane, get the feather, I think he needs a play.”\n\n“But he’s sleeping honey.”\n\n“He loves that feather though, and I have new treats for him.”\n\n“Ok, but make sure you let him get it in the end though.”\n\nI am sleeping but have one ear to the wind.\n\nThe giant and his beast approaches!\n\nHis movement is swift and precise, swooping to strike me but pulling away at the last minute.\n\nI lash out with my weapons but at every turn he evades my attempts.\n\nI cannot take my eye off him lest I fail my people.\n\n“He loves this feather! Look at his cute paws. He just can’t stop trying to get it.”\n\n“How much did that stupid feather cost again?”\n\n“Basically nothing. The best few dollars we ever spent on him.”\n\nI can feel my energy drain but I persist through the struggle.\n\nWith every approach I am getting closer to victory. I can feel it!\n\nThe beast stops suddenly, no doubt fatigued by my heroic stamina.\n\nHe is dangling in mid-air above my head.\n\nThis is it. My chance to strike.\n\nI will be the hero my people deserve.\n\n“Here he goes, he’s gonna get it.”\n\nI leap high in the air.\n\nAnd Strike The Beast Down!\n\nHis feathery flesh tastes so good. I have crushed this villain once and for all.\n\nMy people will sing great, high pitched songs of victory.\n\nWhat is this?\n\nThe giant approaches and places a golden object before me.\n\nA reward! What a treat this is.\n\nThe giants are wise and generous after all.\n\n“He deserves that treat, the little hero.”"
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Inspired by this post: https://m.reddit.com/r/Showerthoughts/comments/54wqy4/if_hermoine_granger_and_sherlock_holmes_had_a/
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[WP] Hermoine Granger and Sherlock Holmes have a child. Describe the child's adventures with his friend Watson at Hogwarts.
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"\"Haha, look at our little scamp,\" Sherlock said. He wrapped an arm around his wife while they watched their son play.\n\nHermoine smiled as she wiped dry the dish in her hand. \"He's marvelous, isn't he? I'm so proud of him.\" Sherlock leaned down to kiss her on her head. They were truly in love, and enjoyed the life they had together.\n\nTheir son, Sonname, ran about in the yard. \"Look, Mom, I'm having adventures!\" His parents laughed. Sonname's friend, Watson, was with him. They ran in circles, playing tag, gleefully laughing. \n\nThe great bell tower at Hogwarts chimed. \"Okay, kids, time to come in,\" Sherlock said. Sonname groaned in disappointment, but eventually followed. Watson stayed behind; He was an orphan, and always felt that he didn't belong in family matters. It was his destiny to be alone.\n\nSuddenly, it dawned on him. Why were Sonname's parents at Hogwarts? Why was his mother standing there washing a dish? Where were they headed off to? As thoughts raced through his head, it was clear he had the beginnings of a tantalizing mystery on his hands. Or...could he be in a dream?\n\nSuddenly, Watson woke up. He looked on either side of him. Handcuffs?! He was fastened tightly onto a bed in a medical room, with bright lights and humming machinery all around him. In front of him was a wide window into a hallway. An faintly through the glass, he could see them: His old pal Watson, his new lover, Hermoine holding their child Sonname in her arms.\n\nA doctor approached them. Watson could not hear their conversation. He struggled under the restraints. Why was he here? Why couldn't he listen to them?\n\nThrough the glass, he saw as Sherlock covered his face in his hands. Hermoine began sobbing and hugged Sonname tightly.\n\nThe doctor entered the room.\n\n\"What's going on? Why am I here?\" Watson demanded, sweating with panic.\n\n\"There's nothing to worry about, my dear Watson,\" the doctor said in a soothing tone. He had produce a syringe.\n\n\"No! No! What are you doing? Won't someone tell me what's going on?\" Watson struggled against the restraints, putting his weight into each turn as he tried to break free. \n\nThe doctor forcefully held down Watson's arm and stabbed it with the syringe. \"Easy now, Watson,\" the doctor cooed.\n\nWatson slowly lost all feeling in his arm, then in the rest of his body. His eyes closed, and his mind went blank.\n\nIt was truly a wild adventure."
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[WP] A little red LED light blinks on your phone, you don't know why...
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"Drinking comes easy to me. At first it was hard, but life has a way of making things easier. Now I drink and drink like it's the only thing I can do. It probably is the only thing I can do anymore. That's how life is sometimes. \n\n\nHer name was Diana and she worked across the street, near the park. We used to meet for lunch. I remember the light in her hair and how her eyes were deep pools, full of mystery and heartache. We'd hold hands like kids, crossing the street, arms swinging with no care in the world. Giggling like dummies.\n\n\nBut look at me, sounding like some romance writer. It must be the drink. Diana was my girl. She was more than my girl, she was my rock. She kept me interested in life and made sure I was full of it. We were going steady by the end of July and by August I asked her to marry me. \n\n\nOh what a time it was then, being engaged love birds. We went out all the time, dancing, drinking, bowling, you name it. Back then, the world was our mystery and we were its detectives. \n\n\nBut I never really made a good detective and I couldn't see what was right in front of me. One night I had drunk too much, celebrated too much and I came home with a little too much on my mind. Diana was home, angry because I had left without telling her. I had been thinking because I always think when I drink. I thought about how lucky I was to have a girl like her. I thought about how grand life was gonna be. I thought about a lot of things. But my mind's never been on my side, especially when I've been drinking.\n\n\nThose seeds of doubt and insecurity sprung, watered by the beer, fertilized by paranoia. Something had to be wrong. There was something that didn't fit. I came home angry, full of these thoughts. Diana was angry as I've said, and that made things worse. We fought bad and bitter. I called her things that you shouldn't call any woman. She made a face that only the most evilest of men are meant to see. It was over that night, my happiness. But everything wasn't finished.\n\n\nShe left first thing in the morning and although I tried to get her back, it was no use. Eventually my heart just learned to live with the hurt and I kicked myself to pass time. I focused on my job and went to the gym for about a week and I thought things would be alright. Of course they wouldn't be. I got the call about a month ago when she got in the accident. I cried and cried until I couldn't cry anymore. She was in a coma, dying. I was dying too, but not fast enough. \n\n\nI blamed myself and still do. If it wasn't for that night maybe things would have been different. She had taken up drinking. She had taken up speeding. It's what I do to people. Now she is taken up in a hospital bed somewhere. All I do now is drink. I drink until I'm more useless than I think I am. I drink until I can't move and black out. I drink until I forget things. \n\n\nI don't think I can take it much longer. Diana is dying. With her goes any chance I've ever had in this life. I don't think I can take it. Today my phone rang nonstop but I just let it ring. I'm not ready for the news. I don't think I'll ever be. I see a little red light blinking on my phone. It pulses like my aching heart. It pulses like the pain in my head. It comes and goes like the bad feeling in my stomach. There isn't anything I can do. I just pretend I don't know what that light is."
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[WP] Your murder is about to happen. Unfortunately the murderer is extremely clumsy and can't hide properly. After several attempts you start taking pity on him/her/it.
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"I felt my heart pound as I pressed my back against the grimy brick wall of the alleyway. Tears threatened to fall as the hot, metallic breath of the pale, hulking creature, washed over me. It's bulging figure loomed over me with its razor sharp claws and jagged, broken teeth. I could not indulge in sobs now, however. Whatever beast was chasing me seemed rely on not just on smell, but on sound to pinpoint the location of its prey, and I wasn't about to give my position away when I had a chance of survival.\n\nAllow me to explain.\n\nIt was 1:34 AM when I left the club with my boyfriend, arm in arm and howling with laughter at the expression of a self entitled asshole who thought it would be funny to try and grind on me while my date had momentarily disappeared to go get drinks. We'd had enough of the pounding bass and the wicked scent cocktail of alcohol and BO, having decided we'd probably have more fun actually in bed <i>without</i> the barrier of clothing in between us. He promised he'd be right back, just had to go get the car from the parking garage that was just a couple minutes walk away from where we were now.\n\n\"I'll come with you.\"\n\n\"Pft. Not in those stilettos, you won't. I'd carry you, but you know my sense of balance is shit and we'd both hit the ground.\"\n\n\"Then what do you want me to do?\"\n\n\"There's plenty of people around. Wait here, make sure your phone's turned on so you can text me if anything happens, okay?\"\n\nI wish now that I'd been more persistent in asking to go with him.\n\nNot thirty seconds after he was gone, the bouncer let in the gaggle of tipsy girls that looked barely old enough to be finishing high school, let alone drinking and partying. He invited me inside, saying he was just going to be a moment while he got a cup of water. I shook my head, said it was fine. My boyfriend would be here soon.\n\nI was alone- or so I thought.\n\nAnother fifteen seconds, and a guttural, broken growl emanating from the end of the poorly lit street sent goosebumps crawling up my spine. Suddenly alert, I grabbed my phone, about to call my boyfriend in hopes of getting him to come back, or move faster and save me from the creature illuminated in the sickening orange-yellow of the street light. It held the stance of a primate, oddly enough. Its arms were huge in comparison to its legs, with bulging muscles that shifted under a pale hide that looked to be a cross between leather and scales. Its head looked like a deer or a bison's skull- and the wickedly sharp antlers that jutted out from its face cast menacing shadows on the empty street beneath it. The strange skin covered the dips where the eyes should have been, and its nostrils flared. It seemed to be searching for prey.\n\nSuffice to say, the moment it started lumbering towards me, I kicked off my (very expensive!) heels and fucking <i>ran</i>.\n\nMy bare feet slapped against the pavement, and I clung desperately onto the clutch that housed my phone and mirror compact. My lungs burned, my eyes watered, and what little I had in my stomach threatened to make a reappearance as I sprinted from what was my inevitable death. Thank God for the alleyway- I bolted down the diversion, not caring that there could be some mugger or rapist lying in wait in the shadows. I had bigger fish to fry. I hoped the rancid stench of the dumpster would hide my scent from the monster hunting me.\n\nIt certainly seemed to work, to say the least. When it turned to stalk into the alley, probably having heard my desperate attempts of escape, its horns were too wide for it to turn in. Yeah, you read that correctly. Think a dog trying to get in through a door with a huge-ass stick to show off to its owner, only for the stick to be too big to fit through the doorway and- look, you get the point.\n\nAnyway, it was trying really hard to get through for a good few minutes before it just so happened to turn its head. Unfortunately, all that effort it'd been putting in to pushing its way into the alley hadn't wavered, and it landed on the ground with a thud.\n\nAfter turning its head in confusion for a few minutes, the beast managed to slowly stand and turn its head just enough to scent the air. It would have been great (for it, not me) had the monster not been completely turned around, facing AWAY from my shaking figure. Claws scrabbling at the brick wall, it soon realized its prey was on the other side, and with a frustrated noise, began to back out of the alleyway, only to repeat the whole 'antlers too wide process' with more frustrated snorts and low-pitched whines than before. He even did the accidental turn-in, and I would have laughed had he not slowly returned to a stand, looming over me with saliva dripping down his jaw, very xenomorph style.\n\nBack to the beginning of the story, where I was staring death in the face.\n\nI felt my heart drop as its snout drew closer and closer. This was it. I was going to be torn to shreds and destroyed at the hands of a beast that was most likely some sort of urban legend.\n\nExcept, I wasn't. Rather than the claws piercing me, they jabbed the dumpster- and let me be the first to say that the smell of a dumpster nearby a restaurant AND a night club? Not a smell you'll ever forget. The metal curled into ribbons and the foul-smelling trash spilled out as the monster raked at the container. It was fruitless. He still hadn't got me. The realization of that seemed to be too much, and he collapsed to the ground, making a noise that sounded like sobbing. My previously racing heart broke for the creature, and hesitantly, I reached out and brushed its snout with the tips of my fingers.\n\n'I am a failure. I cannot kill a single human. I will be banished from my pack and forced to roam as one, most likely killed by a more powerful Hôrtok than I.'\n\nOddly enough, pity shot through me. The creature's movements were bestial, but the thoughts were eerily human. Was killing a human a rite of passage? A hazing, of sorts?\n\n'If you are so able, human, please, take my life now. I cannot return to my pack bearing this disgrace.'\n\nHoly fuck, was it talking to me through telepathy?!\n\n\"I-I can't. I don't have the means.\" The words were out of my mouth before I knew it, and I stepped forward, hand still on the surprisingly soft skin of the... what was it called again? A Hôrtok?\n\n'Yes, human. We feast on the blood of virgins.'\n\nGreat, so he could read my thoughts too.\n\n\"Uh...hate to break this to you, but I'm not... well. A virgin.\" Another agonized groan, and the creature's shoulders slumped. \"But hey! I'm sure you'll find... someone... eventually.\"\n\n'Impossible. We are meant to achieve the kill on the first try, otherwise we have failed as hunters.'\n\n\"Look, is all of this is about failing your little hazing ritual, why don't you just, I dunno, never go back?\"\n\n'I would still be considered a failure.'\n\n\"Okay, yeah, but you could come live with us. On the condition that you don't kill anyone.\"\n\n'A Hôrtok, living with a human? Unheard of.'\n\n\"Look, bub, its the best I can offer.\" My phone started to buzz, and I quickly recognized the pattern as my boyfriend's. Scrambling to press answer, I held it up to my ear and braced myself.\n\n\"Lizzie! Where the fuck are you?! Are you okay?! I told you to stay there!\"\n\n\"Jason, I'm fine. Drive down the street. I'm in the alleyway next to Rigota's.\" Ten seconds later, I heard a screech of brakes on tires, and turned to watch as my boyfriend sprinted out of the car, only to stop dead and go pale at the sight of the beast.\n\n\"What the fuck is that thing,\" he squeaked, stumbling backwards, away from us both.\n\n\"A friend,\" I said calmly. The Hôrtok rumbled, and I could't help but smile, gently rubbing its leathery snout. \"He'll be staying with us from now on. Ostracized from his little frat group and all.\"\n\n\"Is he gonna kill us?\"\n\n'On Ygriffpa's word, I say no.'\n\n\"He says no.\"\n\n\"And you trust him?\"\n\nI looked from my boyfriend, to the creature, then back to him.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"....alright. I'll meet you back at the apartment?\"\n\n\"Yeah. We'll walk.\" My hand reached under the creature's chin, nails gently scratching so as to catch its attention. It rumbled, almost like it was purring, and I smiled.\n\n\"C'mon, big guy. Let's go home.\"\n\n---\n\nTook some liberties with the 'hiding' bit and just made the beast bad at killing in general. This is my first attempt at writing something on this subreddit. Hôrtoks are my own creation, I own nothing. Hope this was okay!\n\nEDIT: Formatting"
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