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[WP] Christmas has been hard on Santa, ever since humans developed interstellar travel.
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"At this point I honestly wish he would just die. For centuries it's been the same damn routine every year. I was born into this life. Do you think I, or any of us, want to keep building this garbage for those ungrateful Humans? They did leave us here after all. But he insists. It's Tradition he says. Why won't he die?\n\nEven after the technological and genetic modifications we made to the Reindeer and the failed test flight he still refused to quit. \"Reindeer can't achieve FTL travel, Their bodies just won't accept the drives\" nope. Big Red kept telling us to \"give it the ol' college try\". So we did. They begged us, BEGGED US not to modify them. I still remember the tears and cries of poor Rudolph and what we did to his nose. That still haunts me. \n\nAfter failure of flight xx-D56 Christmas was \"cancelled\" for the year 3012. The Humans called it \"The Year of Lost Hope\". Really....those melodramatic apes. All because we couldn't get them their precious stuff. Santa took it hard. It was the first time I ever seen him take it out on us. He hit the eggnog...and Buddy for that matter, pretty hard that year.\n\nBut the Apes kept travelling further and further out. They'd colonize a planet, use up all its resources, and then move onto the next. Meanwhile we're on this dustball of Earth. I haven't seen snow in centuries. With no more Reindeer and the teams down right refusal to clone anymore we had a solution. One that would allow Big Red to deliver to his precious Humans and also...finally...kill him.\n\nThe problem though now is every time he goes through the FTLChamber he comes back changed. Slightly different, changed psychologically. We told him the Chamber would send him anywhere in the known universe faster than light. Incredibly faster than light. What we didn't tell him that it actually wasn't an FTL Chamber. It was a dimensional hopper. Constantly tearing the fabric of the space-time continuum and routing him through various dimensions to the Ark ships. The trauma should have killed him on his first jump but he kept coming back. Different, each time slightly different. And he always treats it like it's his first time jumping. It's been years now. We just wanted him gone so our servitude would finally be over. But he keeps coming back. He won't die."
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[WP] You're pitching a TV show aimed for toddlers, but instead of trying to teach the young viewers morals, your show aims to teach them how to be supervillains.
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"\"Yes, some parents will make sure their children won't watch it. But honestly, how many parents do you know that actually watch the shows they sit their child in front of?\"\n\n\"No, there isn't any law forbidding us from making this type of show. That decision is up to the networks. Check with your own legal team if you don't believe me.\"\n\n\"Look, worse case scenario we tell anyone who complains that it's a work of satire not actually meant for children.\"\n\n\"Sir, think of the bigger picture. With all the goodie-two-shoes shows out there, no kid is ever going to want to grow up and be the villain. We're already seeing the effects now. Villain counts are at an all time low. More and more heroes are getting registered but only a select few are actually called into service. Without villains to fight, the heroes won't have any tales for you to turn into the next series.\"\n\n\"Thank you sir, you won't regret this. Oh, and word of advice, don't take on a lot of shows like this. If we have too many super-villains out there, one of them might actually succeed.\"\n"
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[WP] You wake up, do your morning routine, and walk out the front door to see 11 cows, 27 pigs, 2,400 chickens, 80 turkeys, 30 sheep and 4,500 fish right outside your house. The sum total of every animal you've ever eaten is here and they are not happy
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"I had awoken to the terrible, pungent odor of what seemed like a bayside landfill. My air conditioner had faltered at some time during the night and the entirety of my home was a stagnant seventy-nine degrees. I pinched the bottom of my shirt and pulled it away from my body, peeling the dense cloth from my sticky skin. I moved through the hall, passed the counter and in my clumsy state, had knocked over a welcome bell.\n\n\"Christ.\" I muttered to myself. The bell's crash to the floor produced no noise.\n\nInstead, I could hear what sounded like a lawnmower coming from all directions of my home and in my rightfully irritated state, I moved to the window to yell at whoever took it upon themselves to complete yard work at five a.m on a Saturday. \n\nAs I approached the window, a dim sunbeam from above the treeline had managed to strike me thoroughly in the eyes while my fingers fumbled for the window latch. I unhooked the first and a shielded my eyes from the sun while I admitted to myself that it was taking an unnecessary amount of strength to undo the last latch.\n\nIt gave way eventually and I knelt down to use my legs a bit to apply upward pressure on the window slide. The window cracked slightly and as it down, the roaring of the lawnmower had crescendoed quickly into a symphony of noise that my groggy mind simply could not comprehend. As suddenly as the noise had risen, the odor I had experienced before suddenly invaded my nostrils like an intentional and noxious gas. I held my nose pinched shut as I fumbled to slam the window shut when a single chicken managed to wedge himself through the crack.\n\nI panicked and tried to elbow the chicken back through the window while it's incessant flapping had kept my efforts from subduing the creature at bay. I had managed to calm myself and graciously slipped my thumb, middle finger, and ring finger through the skinny legs of the chicken, allowing me to flip him upside down to halt his struggle. Something my old man had taught me.\n\nI laughed to myself and dangled the chicken barely in front of my nose and mocked.\n\n\"You've got massive balls, Mr. Chicken. Your pals and you clamoring to get into a butcher's.\"\n\nI carried the squirming chicken down the hall and into the kitchen. I knocked my head accidentally on a new pull-up bar in the doorway and reeled slightly. I looked at the dangling chicken and then back to the window. It was clear now that there was some absurd amount of life gathering outside of my window. But truthfully, this ordeal couldn't be better suited for a man like myself.\n\nI set the chicken down, body pinned beneath my palm when I lifted my father's cleaver high into the air. I looked to my right at a large plastic tub sitting next to a pair of old black gloves just on top of the refrigerator. I turned back to the chicken, his body now relaxed an accepting. His beady eyes twitched to and fro, examining the features of my face. I brought the knife down hard, just as the chicken had blinked.\n\n\"100% Whey\", I snickered to myself.\n\n\"I'm going to save a fortune.\"\n\n\n"
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[WP] In an alternate universe where the War on Drugs was a physical war, you are an unfortunate solider that has been captured by the Pothead faction. And to extract information from you, they whip up a strange brand of torture.
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"\"If you don't give us like all the information man, we won't let you smoke some of this dank bud.\" A hippyish creature was flailing his arms with some sort of green-yellowish flower being given the utmost care and attention. \n\"I plead unyielding allegiance to the D.A.R.E faction, not one weeds, not two weeds are gonna stop me from fulfilling my duty of creating a drug-free society!\" They have no idea how strong willed of a man I'm. I will never succumb. I have lost my father, whom I had never met to weed. Luckily, my supervisor was there to tell me the horrible tale of how one toke made my own flesh and blood go mad and take his own life. I was eight years old when I heard that story and this is what has kept me going for all these years. I will never stop fighting the good fight. I will avenge my father, even if I have to give up my own life I know that I have done justice in this physical realm. \n\"You seem to be a tough one, dude.\" He takes a puff on his disgusting pipe, the stench is umbearable! \n\"Like we won't let you smoke this one either!\" He said with much confidence and conviction. \nDoesnt he know that weed kills people? Have they not educated themselves on the matter?! I mean look at how they are living, like some sort of homeless folk, weed is taking everything out of their life and they want to smoke more? This is a classic sign of malignant drug addiction! \n\"If you have to kill me do it already, there is no point in holding me prisoner. I will never let you in in anything!\" I was adamant about my convictions. \n\"Alright dude, we will let you smoke some weed but only one si you can become one.\" The cavemen spoke to me. \n\nI had enough of this shit, it was evident that they werent gonna let me go so I took a joint, puffed and inhaled as hard as I could thinking: If I'm going down it will at least be on my own terms!!! \n\"So what about the information man, the information?\" He laments Once again. \n\"You are the information, all that is are you and all that will be must be you.\" \nA collective gasp. \n\"Too deep.\" They let me go but I stay becouse I was never a prisoner but of one thing, my mind.[4/365]"
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Inspire from Anzac landing in Gallipoli campaign.
You can freely choose your course of action after receiving the order.
You may use the later verse ' In the time which passes until we die, other troops and commanders can come forward and take our places ' too if you want.
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[WP] You are the commander of a division defending a strategic point from enemy assault, ammo are low casualties are high but you held the line. You request to retreat and HQ gave out this order: "I do not order you to fight, I order you to die -" before getting cut off. Describe what happen next.
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"I heard a gunshot.\nI quickly held my pistol and checked each of its cylinders.\n\"We knew it. We killed your partner Mark. You deserve to die, saboteur!\"\nHiding beside a door, sweat drops move down my face as I try to listen to the footsteps of the soldier.\nI kissed my pistol as my hands are shaking.\n\"I guess I failed in my mission\" I told myself.\nI stepped on the open door and tried my luck.\n-tkpalaiologos"
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[WP]You live in a world where you don't tell people about yourself, they do. Furthermore everything they say about you becomes true.
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"“Thank you for coming,” Tobias said and, with a weak smile, closed the door.\n\nThe house, after an afternoon alive with the respectful murmur of the wake, was now empty. Tobias stood in the empty hallway for a moment and noticed, bemused, that his sadness at his mother’s passing had left him along with his last guest. What replaced it however, was even more unwelcome. Fear gripped him as he made his way upstairs to change, stiff fingers tugging at the tie which now seemed to be choking him. With his mother gone there was no-one left to undo the backtalker’s work. He wondered how far he would make it tomorrow.\n\nAs it turned out, it was further than he would ever have imagined.\n\nHis first test came the following morning, on the bus to work. Ever since his boss had told him he was “a hard worker”, Tobias had been unable to miss work for anything but the most exceptional circumstances. His mother’s death had meant his first day off in nearly 3 years. \n\nAs usual he caught the 8:38 from the corner of his street. The buses ran like clockwork in most places (it was common practice for bus companies to tell their employees they were “punctual, courteous and safe drivers” upon hiring), and as he boarded the bus and headed for his usual seat, his eyes flicked past the faces around him. Dez. His presence could be relied on almost as readily as the bus’s punctuality. With cropped hair, jutting jaw and intricate tattoos, Dez was a typical backtalker. Rumour had it he should be locked up, but he told the prison officers that they were best mates. He got his tattoos for free for the same reason. Backed up by an extensive network of skinhead friends of his, Dez was protected from reciprocal attacks which would be noticed and undone by his mates. And woe betide anyone who messed with a backtalker. Dez sauntered over as the bus pulled away.\n\n“Morning, Tubs” came the usual greeting. Tobias didn’t respond.\n\n“Your nose is looking particularly big today, Tubs.”\n\nChrist, he wasn’t wasting time today. Tobias grimaced as he felt his nose swell and redden until he took on the appearance of an alcoholic. \n\n“Please, Dez. Don’t.”\n\n“I don’t know why you bother Tubs, I really don’t” came the reply.\n\nBy the time Tobias got off the bus, as well as his swollen nose, he had a badly receding hairline, shoelaces tied together and mustard stains on his suit. \n\nThankfully it had all been physical today. Tobias’s mind was still his own, and it buzzed with fear and rage as he made his way to the office, the snickers of Dez and his gang receded into the distance. \n\n“Tobias, Mr Schaefer wants to see you in his office.” Becky the secretary put down the phone without waiting for a reply. Tobias sighed, put aside his work and trudged to the front of the floor, past cubicles of colleagues, none of whom paid him any attention. \n\nMr Schaefer was a tall, muscular man with great hair. Tobias reckoned his wife had told him to be that way, or maybe some family member. Either way it was unlikely that Mr Schaefer had always been like this. You could tell by the way he acted. Although only a lowly sales manager, he ran his team like a slave driver. \n\n“Sit down” he ordered, as soon as Tobias had closed the office door behind him. \n\n“I see once again you have failed to properly dress yourself for work this morning”, Schaefer noted, peering down his nose at Tobias’s mustard-stained shirt. \n\nThat hurt. Schaefer knew full well that Tobias got backchat on the way to work, having seen him with a different deformity or ailment practically every day. Yet he still picked him out as a target.\n\n“Your output is down this month. This is not acceptable.”\n\nUntil that moment, Tobias had been on track to meet this month’s output target. But as soon as the words left Schaefer’s mouth, he felt himself forgetting the contents of presentations, growth startegies and sales targets slipping from his mind. Feeling anger rising in him like it never had before, Tobias knew that no matter what he did, he would now miss his targets, just as his boss said. Without his mother there was no way to undo Shaefer’s meddling.\n\n“You’re going to keep slipping at work, lose control and home and eventually leave me no choice but to fire you” Shaefer continued, a cruel smile on his lips. “Why should I keep you around when I can replace you with someone else at least as hard working as you, who doesn’t get backchat on his way to work every day?”\n\nHe had said it. Admitted he knew exactly what was going on. Yet still he persisted in this ridiculous and unjustified attack. As Tobias felt himself losing the will to work, begin craving a drink, he snapped. No-one was going to mess with his mind like this ever again. Coldly, he stood and spoke for the first time since he had arrived at work.\n\n“You’re a fat f****r, Schaefer. A worthless, spineless waste of space with no \nfuture in this company.”\n\nSchaefer’s eyes widened in horror as he began to expand, a huge beer belly straining at his shirt, buttons popping and fabric tearing. He began to speak, revenge undoubtedly on his mind.\n\n“You-“\n\n“YOU’RE MUTE, SCHAEFER. YOU CAN’T SPEAK!” screamed Tobias, as his now fat and spineless boss collapsed onto the floor gurgling indistinctly.\n\nTowering over him, defiance in his eyes, it was then that Tobias learnt the true power of the backtalker.\n\n“Think you can push me around, huh?”\n\n“You’re a dead man.”\n\n"
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[WP] While suffering a crisis of faith, a nun meets a devil walking home.
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"\"Are you getting on or not, sista?\"\n\nSister Jennifer looked up, her train of thought broken by the bus driver. She blushed and stepped up onto the 4:15 downtown. \"I'm so sorry, I was lost there for a second,\" she apologized, her mind trying to retrace its steps as she swiped her pass and moved further into the mostly empty bus. \n\n\"Mmhmm,\" acknowledged the bus driver, closing the doors as she paid her fare. \"Hey, say a prayer for me, will ya?\" he says, not really caring if she hears, as he pulls the bus away from the curb, his mind already wondering if that bad accident had cleared up downtown yet. \n\n*Maybe*, she thinks to herself. She sits down, just in time for the bus to lurch over a pothole. She clutches her bag, her other hand on the cross around her neck. Her mind finds the thread of thought again, as she relaxes her grip on her bag. She lingers on the cross, feeling the cool metal against her fingertips. The metal is almost cold, a relief against the summer heat. She traces around the scratch on the backside of the cross, feeling the roughness against her fingertip.\n\nThe bus continues its route, picking up many more as it makes its way downtown. Sister Jennifer continues to fidget with her cross, twirling it in her fingers, twisting it like the thoughts in her head. She relishes the cold, gold piece in her hand, with the bus only growing warmer as people continue to push their way on board to the now crowded bus. The man next to her continues to talk into his phone, growing louder as more people get on, the volume of his voice seemingly tied to the temperature. \n\n\"Then close it! Those morons have been losing me money for too long,\" he says with an air of finality to his voice. \"Yeah, close the whole damn account,\" he says, his eyes flicking toward her as he curses, quickly mouthing *Sorry*. He takes the phone from his ear, tapping the screen to end the call. He takes a cloth from the inside of his blazer, mopping his brow with one hand, the other scrolling through something intently on his phone. \n\n\"Geez, it's like a desert in here, huh?\" he says, mostly to himself, eyes still fixed on his device. The arid Californian air blows through the driver's open window, adding to, rather than relieving, the heat within. Jennifer nods, half to herself, half to the handsome gentleman next to her. *He seems so much more pleasant now that he's not yelling into that phone*, she thinks. \n\nHe turns toward her and looks her in the eyes. His eyes are green, almost glowing in their intensity. He smiles, and as he does so, everything becomes silent. The murmur on the bus drops away, the blowing air dies down, the hum of the engine silenced. She clutches her cross, her fingers freezing to the metal, hands chilled to the bone. Her teeth begin to chatter. \n\nSister Jennifer tries to look away, tries to see anything other than this beautiful man's face, but she can't. Like a magnet, her eyes are pulled toward his, her pulse quickening. \n\nHe chuckles, \"Do you still doubt me?\"\n\n\"No\"\n\nHis smile softens, \"Do you still serve me?\"\n\n\"Yes\"\n\n\"Good. Double agents are hard to find these days.\"\n\n~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~\n\nSister Jennifer hurries off the bus, the bus driver's comment not even registering in her ears. She clutches her bag as she walks into the Sisters of Mercy hospital and onto the elevator, hitting the button for the 6th floor. \n\nThe automated voice chimes as the doors reopen for her on her destination floor:\n\n\"6th floor: Maternity ward and nursery\""
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[WP] Aliens have invaded and ask for the entire account of human history to decide if we deserve to live. Your tasked with rewriting it so we look better.
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"The pen feels heavy in my hand. Most days this pen will glide along an empty page filling it with fictional stories filled with wonder and adventure. Yet today the pen felt heavy. Why wouldn't it? It held the weight of the future of mankind with in it. One more fictional story to determine if mankind live or dies.\n\n2 months ago a unknown technology landed on earth, and within it held the strangest creatures I have ever seen, or even imagined in all my stories. tall green translucent bodies, and within a dark vortex-like object that seems to capture life itself.\n\nTheir faces however, were remarkably... human-like. It's hard to describe but it can frown, smile, cry, and such. It also speaks all of Earths languages perfectly. It seems out of place compared to its gelatinous body. I suspect they donned this appearance in order to communicate properly.\n\nThe other-worldly creatures announced that mankind had reached a milestone and that they needed to see if we are worthy to become a space-faring race. They demanded to see the entirety of human history so they can review it and determine if we are allowed to live or die. \n\nAs you probably know mankind does not have the most friendly of historys. And that where I come in. I'm a writer by trade, and as such I have to make mankind a shining beacon of morality so that these things don't kill us all.\n\nI spend many days writing changing bits and pieces of human history. The Attila the Hun fought dragons instead of conquering, the crusades where about stopping the undead, world wars were protecting earth from ancient horrors in the depths. All lies yet tweaked just enough that they were believable... well, not entirely impossible anyway. \n\n14 days with almost no sleep, yet it was finally done. The worlds greatest tale of fiction ever written. Yet as I closed the book I wondered, is mankind really worthy? I read the ugliest part of human history and I can't help but wonder, is it safe for us to be unleashed to the universe? murder, torture, rape, slavery, gluttony, deceit. These creatures didn't come to destroy a civilisation but rather protect the rest of the universe from a potently horrifying threat. And we fit the bill alright. We learned to destroy the earth before we even learned how to leave it. \n\nA sudden knock at the door woke me from my thoughts. A FBI agent announced that the creatures are coming to meet with me shortly, I tell him I'm ready to meet with them.\n\nA stare at my desk as I wait. Two stacks of pages lie on my desk. One is the stories I made to make mankind seem like a beacon of hope, and the other is the real history of mankind in all its ugliness. Truth and Lie sitting side by side. \n\nThe creatures arrived a few minutes after the FBI had said. The room consisted of just the 3 of them and me. No observation on this meeting was allowed as determined by them. one moved forward from the group and spoke.\n\n\"Show us human. Show us the past of mankind, and in turn we will determine it's future\"\n \nI look to my desk once more. And made my decision. \n\n\"This is the history of mankind. Of which we are aware anyway.\"\n\nI rest my hand on one of the stacks.\n\n\"I see. we will begin the review\" \n\nThey each took several pages, and began reading. Their gelatinous faces, were expressionless as they did. It felt like an eternity. Yet they read the entirety of human history in just a over a minute. The REAL history. \n\nI decided that we are too young as a species to truly understand how detrimental we would be to the universe. The only ones who knew, came to us to see for themselves. \n\nThe one which a presumed was the leader stared at me for a brief moment after he read it. Then the strangest thing happened. He smiled.\n\n\"Very good human! Had you given us the rewritten history of mankind we would've needed to destroy your species.\" My eyes snapped open in disbelief. How much did they know? He continued \"A sentient race that thinks only of itself will consume and consume until they are forced to go to war to sustain its growth. War on the galactic scale is not as 'Pleasant' as the wars on earth, many entire worlds would be destroyed. many collapse stars to wipe out entire systems.\nYet you, with this one simple act you showed that your species are capable of self sacrifice. That is the true test of morality we seek in a species. Yet I say these words but you as a species still have a long way to go. And we will be watching, and so nurture this growth until you are ready.\"\n\n\"Wait? You lied to us? you knew our past?\"\n\n\"we knew for 500 of your earth years. we keep watch one all life sustaining planets for the appearance of intelligent life\"\n\nI laughed at the absurdity. the lie told to save us would of ensured our doom. \n\n\"farwell human, may our species cross path again\"\n\n\"you sure you want to leave? With deceit like that you'd fit right in on earth.\"\n\nHe smiled again. \"we could never weave stories quite like you humans could. I'm looking forward to what your race offer when they join us\"\n\nThey left soon after. Yet now I faced an even more difficult task. How do I explain to the human race that I threw them under a bus, yet that very same act somehow saved us all? would I be a hero, or treated as a traitor? I look at the stack of lies I spent the better part of fourteen days writing. I guess one more white lie couldn't hurt.\n\nI pick up my pen and a piece of paper and I begin to weave another tale."
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And it's good at that job, even though it likes to knock over the garbage can and eat out of the cat's litter box. The same animal that spends four hours a day biting on a squeeky toy is the best leader the galaxy has ever had.
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[WP] Earth stands trial for barbarism/savagery. Races across the galaxy are ready to kill all life on Earth. At the trial a Labrador Retriever is called to the stand. All races see that for their flaws, humanity has bred a perfectly benevolent and loving being. Your dog is now the galactic emperor
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"\"Emperor Good Boy, your council awaits.\"\n\nEmperor Good Boy walked towards the large imposing door of the council chamber, staff in mouth. He reached the main door but opted to take the smaller doggy door that had been carved in to the grandiose wood. His staff, unable to fit through, repeatedly hit the sides as he tried to force his way in.\"\n\n\"Sir, your staff will not fit. If you'll just allow me to ...\"\n\n\"Don't, Kevin. The staff will fit I just have to try really hard.\" The Emperor mumbled with the staff in his mouth. He tried again but suffered similar problems.\n\n\"But it's impossible, sir. The dimensions do not add up. We have spoken about this. I shall open the big door and we can go in with the staff.\" He opened the large door.\n\nEmperor Good Boy walked in to the room. Each council member stood and offered their crotches for sniffs before taking their seat. The staff dropped as the Emperor walked in circles around his throne before settling.\n\n\"Sir, you have been called here today to discuss a very serious issue. We have recently suffered a number of causalities outside of Impon 5. There are rumours of invasion.\"\n\nAnother member of the council spoke up, \"Who is it?\"\n\nEmperor Good Boy ran to the door barking. Jumping to also get a glimpse outside of the windows near the door before turning back to the council. \"Whoever it was who said those words please stand up and leave the room.\" The man left. \"Ladies and Gentlemen, we have spoken about the many phrases that cannot be uttered in this chamber. That was one of them. Another outburst similar to that will result in expulsion. Please, continue.\"\n\n\"As you were, sir. It's the Khajits. They're gathering rebels and uniting anyone they can under their banner. They refuse to be governed by a dog.\"\n\n\"I see. And what of the gifts we sent them?\"\n\n\"Unfortunately, the large sack of treats, the old cushion from the couch, and the weird stick you found outside last week did not appease them.\n\n\"This disappoints me. That stick I found outside was particularly tremendous.\"\n\n\"Sir, we all agreed the stick was tremendous. A finer stick we have never seen.\"\n\n\"I loved that stick.\"\n\n\"They did not send it back.\"\n\n\"Interesting. A rejection of diplomacy leaves us little choice. What counter measures do we have in place?\"\n\n\"We have your kind stationed at every window, sir. Units are currently barking at every passerby day and night.\"\n\n\"Excellent. They're good boys. And what do we know of the enemy? What kind of tech are they wielding?\"\n\n\"This is where we have a problem, Emperor. There are stories the enemy have researched The Hoover.\"\n\n\"Dear God.\"\n\n\"They are going from star system to star system chasing people down with hoovers.\"\n\n\"And are the victims barking back at the hoovers?\"\n\n\"Reports suggest the victims were following your orders: Bark, run away momentarily, run back and bark again.\"\n\n\"And yet they could not be saved. Well, desperate times call for desperate measures. I once knew a man who could defeat a hoover. Kill it's power in an instant with mage like ability. He was always good to me. Unfreeze my master. It's time.\"\n\n****\n\nI write shitty, silly stories on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them and leave some judgement."
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[WP] write a story where the narrator is the antagonist.
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"I stood and noticed there were three mirrors in His bathroom. One of my favorite things is looking at my self in the mirror-even better when there are more mirrors Looking at myself admiring the hairdo I have finally been able to achieve for the past year of training my hair, but my admiration was cut short. I spotted a flaw. Something was on my face. \n \"For someone like me it isn't hard to imagine how things escalated to this.\". I was admiring the detailed tile work in the bathroom counter top. I looked to Brian. \"Sometimes in life you just have to walk away from a situation you cant control...sometimes when you think you cant take it anymore-you want to strike back...And here we are...\". I looked him in the eyes. He was speechless. Couldn't say a damn thing. What a nerd. After a moment of hesitation I said \"I know that it is mostly my fault for the way things ended\" I thought for a moment \"well, and the way things began if you think about it\" I had no reason to hold back my laughter. \n \"We couldn't be friends, and I blame circumstance for that. But I guess...it doesn't matter anymore...and out of all the times I feel sad its actually now.\". I stood there and thought of that amused. \n I Looked into the mirrors one last time and wiped the blood from my face. I set down the bloody bat and skipped away bathing in victory. As I left. I let out a loud howl of laughter that reverberated through the long corridors of Brian's Mansion. Leaving a red trail of malice and ill-intent from the Master Bathroom to the Beautifully stained front door. I can't wait to do this again.",
"There he stands, acting bravely, such a treasenous fool! \nLied to me, filthy burglar, stole my favourite jewel. \nI will crush him, destroy him, leave him shattered in pain. \nOh, he´ll wish to be dead when I summoned this bane. \n\nMy dark magic enfolds him as he cries out in fear, \nAncient terrors arise and... why do they disappear?! \n\nIt´s too bright, all this light that explodes from his stick, \nDoes he dare to attack me? \"YOU ARE DEAD, LITTLE PRICK!\" \n\nOnce again I invoke demon knights with my mind, \nYeah, this time I won´t leave any bodies behind. \nOnce again, they engage him, once again, he fights back. \nThrows a speer, bright and glistening, hitting me with a whack. \n\nI stand still, wondering ... then I wonder no more. \nMy last thought? *That´s a whole lot of blood on the floor.*\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] "Oh", says God. " I guess I should add that to the list of deadly sins.
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"God was sitting in a plush faux-leather chair and chewing the tip of a pen. A hand with four large gold rings, emblazened with letters and spelling out “THUG,” tapped intermittently on the desk. \n“Run it by me again, Matt,” God said, as he spun in his chair and leaned forward. His white suit crinkled a bit at the waist. “The planet Mirth -”\n\n“Earth,” chimed Matt, the planet's angel,nervously. “It's – uh – Earth.”\n\n“Right, right. Earlth. The planet with the…”\n\n“Jellyfish.”\n\n“Yeah, jellyfish. So, the jellyfish did….what exactly?” \n\n“Not the jellyfish,” Matt said, stroking his tie awkwardly. “The jellyfish are great. It's the humans.””\n\n“Ah, yeah,” God had no clue what he was talking about. “Did I make them before or after the jellyfish?\"\n\n“God, please stop talking about the jellyfish.”\n\nGod chewed the tip of his pen harder, with the edge of his molars. He squinted, and pulled it from his mouth.\n“Okay, tell me about the humans. Did they ignore the messenger or something? Did they say 'no Jesus we're fine thank you' and send him back to the -”\n\n\"They killed him.\" Matt whispered. \n\n“What was that?”\n\n“They – uh – killed the messanger.”\n\nGod dropped his jaw. He almost couldn't believe it. “Was this before or after he said the whole 'don't kill' thing?”\n\n“After.”\n\n“And they still did it?”\n\n“Yes.”\n\nGod paused for a second: the shock nearly sending him into another plane of existence. He contemplated just wiping the solar system clean and starting over, but then just gruffly nodded. \n “Okay, that's fine. Alright. We can deal with that. Thank you for bringing this to my atten-”\n\n“*Well,* I'm not exactly done. That happened like, a millennium ago, I think. I don't know, I was stuck in traffic on the way here.”\nHe twiddles his thumbs. “They – uh – did something worse than that.”\n\n\"Worse than killing their designated messenger?\" \n\n\"Way, way worse.\"\n\nMatt pulled out his iHeaven. He flipped it horizontal and slid it over to God's side of the desk.\n\n“Just watch.”\n\nGod sat and watched “We Are Number One But Everytime He Says Number One A Dick Goes Out For Harambe.”\n\n“What the fuck is this shit?” God said, rage lining his voice. \n\n“They're called *maymays,* God, and...well, I'm not exactly sure what they're supposed to be. But we do know that they equal nearly a 99.7 on the Extinction Index.”\n\nGod's eyes opened wide with shock. “A 99.7? That's insane. How?”\n\n“Memes are the ultimate plague: they spread like...like *crazy* and there is no cure. If and when these humans discover space travel...these memes will spread to the entire galaxy. Zorgons, Amperlogs, Kxaqwrkmbs, all will fall to the wrath of the Meme Jihad.”\"\n\n“They must be stopped,” God concluded.“There's no way we can allow this Robbie character to hold control over our best worlds.”\n\nGod reached for his quill pen, he tapped thrice on a piece of white paper with it. He looked to Angel Matt. “Thank you for your report, Matt. Keep up the good work.”\n\t\nAngel Matt bowed a bit too deep and scampered out of the door. God started writing on a piece of stark white paper:\n\n“8th deadly sin, stupidity.”",
"The day had finally arrived. \n\nI had served the Lord all my life, seeking only to do his will, and I was finally going to heaven. \n\nAs I strode confidently up to the pearly gates, glistening in their pristine sublimity, I took note of the great host of people cowering in the shadow of the doors, a shadow which fell directly away from the brightness held within.\n\n\"All sinners, no doubt,\" I thought, as I held my head just a bit higher. \"Poor souls without good deeds like mine to comfort them.\"\n\nAnd as I at last reached the gates, and beheld good St. Peter there, trying to make sense of this chaos, I nearly wept in anticipation of my eternal reward. \n\n\"I understand,\" the first pontiff was saying to a distraught frequenter of brothels, \"but there has to something more that I can put down. Giving your brother a band-aid in the fourth grade isn't going to cut it!\"\n\n\"Pardon me, good St. Peter,\" I interjected, \"but I simply cannot wait any longer. I am dying to meet the Lord!\"\n\n\"Ah! Thomas! We've been expecting you! Come with me. And you- I want you to have five good deeds to offer when I return. This shan't take long.\"\n\nSt. Peter led me past flowing waterfalls of crystal and echoing mountain tops, past verdant pastures and angelic choirs, until at last we reached the base of a prodigious mountain bathed in a golden light. Here it was that God himself had taken up his throne. \n\n\"I can't believe it,\" I thought. \"This is finally happening.\"\n\nAs we strode to the summit of the mountain though, a strange thing occurred. The angelic singing that I had heard since entering heaven began to change. It began to turn into a hard, merciless, blaring techno beat. Unce, unce, unce, unce, growing louder and louder with every step we took. \n\n\"Hey!!!!\" everybody yelled as we entered the circular stone platform placed on the peak, as colored lights swirled through ginormous gems strewn along the perimeter. \n\n\"Heyyyy!!!!\" St. Peter yelled, as he ran ahead into the tumult of dancing heavenly bodies. \n\n\"Why are you back so early?\" said God, in the middle of a head-spin. \n\n\"I'm sorry to bother you Lord, but this is the one that I told you about yesterday.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" said God, as he hurled himself out of the head-spin directly onto his feet. \"Are you sure this merits this type of response?\"\n\n\"I leave that to your omniscient judgement Lord.\"\n\n\"Hmmm, very well, let us see it then.\"\n\nGod fell back into a lounge chair that magically appeared as he sat. An angel brought him the reddest of wines in a chalice fit for a king, nay, a God. \n\nI wondered what glories they had in store for me. I knew that I had been exemplary in life, but I hadn't realized just how well regarded I was. This was shaping up to be better than I had expected, even if the decor and atmosphere weren’t quite as distinguished as people on earth think they’ll be. \n\n\"Now Thomas,\" God said, as a VHS tape was brought in by a cherub, \"Peter wanted to show this to me yesterday, right when you passed, but I wanted you to be here to defend yourself. I always give every person every possible chance to redeem themselves. After all, my mercy is much greater than my justice.\"\n\nI gulped. This wasn't what I had expected. This sounded...like I was in trouble! Defend myself? Why would I need to defend myself?\n\nAs the tape was put in the VHS player, it became readily apparent why I would need to defend myself. I knew what the tape contained. I shuddered. I knew all too well.\n\nAnd as the angels and saints and even God himself gasped with horror at my high school dance moves, I quaked and trembled in fear at what I knew was coming. \n\nAnd when God spewed his wine out all over the room, drenching the martyrs' white robes in red, I knew all hope was lost. \n\n\"Well...you were right Peter. Put those three last moves on the list of deadly sins. Now we’re up to 10...\"\n\n\"And you, Thomas, what do you have to say for yourself? Are there any mitigating circumstances that we somehow are not aware of?\"\n\n\"No, my Lord\" I squeaked. \"I have nothing to excuse myself with. \n\n\"But surely you improved your dancing skills during your long life? After all, that was only your high school prom!\"\n\n\"No, my Lord. I favored books in life, and classical music.\"\n\n\"Hmmm. This really is too bad. Peter, you know how I hate condemning people, but this, this really warrants eternal flames. I'm afraid I don't have any alternative Thomas.\"\n\nAnd that is why you find me here. At first, the demons poked my feet with their tridents and howled \"Dance! Dance!\" as they do with every poor soul that comes their way. But when they saw what their jibes and taunts affected, even they banished me.\n\n",
"First to the list we add the sin of Lust, \nSlaves of the Devil with every thrust, \nGluttony follows next, swallowing up all, \nTil our bellies distend and our heads loll, \nEqually as evil is the blackness of Greed, \nWanting and wanting beyond reasonable need, \nThe opposite, of course, we find in Sloth, \nDisease of indifference cut from the same cloth, \nBut better that than the rage of Wrath, \nTurning friendships into blood-red bloodbaths, \nSometimes incurred by Envy, the subtle sin, \nThe one that yearns for what-could-have-been, \nUsually bowing down to the final one, Pride, \nBy which many have lived and many have died. \n\nThese are the seven Sins, the capital vices, \nWe break them for little gain and high prices. \nBut there's one that God must have missed, \nA dangerous disease he forgot to add to the list, \nAnd so we live our lives as mortal monstrosities, \nCommitting sin after sin to satisfy our Curiosities.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n____________\n\n\n*Liked that? More stories [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Idreamofdragons/)!*\n\n"
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[WP] The first law of magic is that magic is unpredictable: you never know exactly what a spell will do. The second law of magic is that there is always a price of some kind, though who pays it can vary. You just discovered the third law of magic.
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"\nI had been hiking up for an hour, my hair matted with sweat and the trees overhead cutting the world into patches of deep shadow and piercing glare. So I hadn't seen the cauldron, I hadn't seen the glass glinting. Tripped and scraped my knee, then still had to walk half a mile uphill to get to her front door. Look at me. Perched on the edge of her sofa and trying not to spill the tea she gave me, leg throbbing. Praying she wouldn't notice any change if she saw the wreck on the path, praying she didn't already know, praying it was just trash, just trash and nothing she'd care about.\n\nThe Witch settled into the armchair across from me and pried the top off a beer with her talon necklace. She took a swig and I stared at the paisley carpet instead of her lips wrapped around the bottle. \"Go on then. You're seeing shapes?\"\n\n\"Not—not all the time—\"\n\n\"Sure. When and what are you seeing?\"\n\nI took a sip of the tea. Tasted like the leaves still had dirt on them when she brewed it. \"I was hoping—do I need to talk about it? I was hoping you could just give me a portent. Something to clear my head.\"\n\n\"Oh, there's no general cure for all of... that.\" She tipped her left hand toward me and waved it around my general direction. \"I can't help if I don't know what's up. Give me some symptoms to work with.\"\n\n\"I see people, in the magic.\"\n\nThe Witch lowered her beer and looked at me, hard. It was the first time she had looked straight at me since I knocked on her door. Three small holes spun slowly around each other in her left eye, where you'd normally just see the one pupil. That happens sometimes, to the people who Cast the most. You never know what the cost is going to be. Some people go blind entirely.\n\nOr maybe she asked for the eye on purpose. Maybe it helped. I didn't know.\n\n\"I see them around it, *doing* whatever the spell is. I know Miller put up wards, because I saw two shadows with—helmets and pikes, don't laugh, I know it's outlandshish—patrolling his yard. Tracy didn't just fall, somebody tripped her. Nathan had a—a thing hovering by him, whispering, when he was making the deal with those city folk. It's always been there out of the corner of my eye, but it used to just be once every few years, a glimpse, that sort of thing. Older I've gotten, the worse it gets.\" \n\nThe three holes in her left eye spun in place, once, and then rearannged themselves into a vertical line.\n\n\"Do you mind if I touch your face?\"\n\n\"Okay?\"\n\nShe leaned across the gap and pressed her palm against the side of my face, her thumb against my temple, fingers pressed into my hair. I focused very hard on breathing normally.\n\n\"What did you say your name was?\"\n\n\"Annabelle.\"\n\nShe laughed. \"Damn. This place is so fucking backwater. *Annabelle*, alright. Look at me.\"\n\nA shadow materialized over her left shoulder. It leaned over her and whispered something, in her ear.\n\n\"Don't look at it, look at me.\"\n\nHer eyeliner dipped crooked on the left side instead of flaring up like it did on the right. At least, I thought it was eyeliner. Glitter sparkled off her cheeks, same gold as her irises. The holes in her eye whirred.\n\nShe dropped her hand.\n\n\"Okay.\" She stood and walked over to the window, squinted out into the woods. The shadow was gone. \"Okay, Annabelle. You ever Cast before?\"\n\n\"No,\" I lied.\n\n\"You should've, you are *in tune*. You know the rules of magic?\"\n\n\"Always a cost. Never a guarantee.\"\n\n\"Two out of three. But some of us Practicioners—\" she paused to take another drink, \"—think that there's a third. Some of us can see The Others, and know that there's a third rule, and it's this: magic isn't ours, it's not something we do. It's something that gets done to us. That's why all the Casts that ever work halfway consistently, they're phrased as questions or bargains or whatever. Merlin's mysterious benefactors.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" I took a small sip of the putrid tea.\n\n\"I can try and bring down your buzz a little. There's silencing charms that would maybe dampen your connection. But you're not sick, you're just—\" she twiddled her fingers at me. \"In tune. Really in tune. You ever thought about becoming a Practicioner? I've got a spare room in the back since my last apprentice got their mark.\"\n\nI grabbed the doorknob before I realized that I had decided to stand. \"No, I'm—I'm good, thank you, but I just took over the bakery—\"\n\nThe Witch tugged the corner of her mouth into a lopsided smirk and took another drink. \"Well, if you change your mind. Open offer.\"\n\n\"Thanks. I'd better get going, I—\"\n\n\"Sure. Watch out for the gear this time. You don't want to take that kind of fall again going back *down* the hill.\"\n\nI shut the door on the sound of her laughing. Relaced my shoes. Stepped back into the woods, back to town. Knee still throbbing."
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[WP] You're a package delivery driver on your last delivery for the day before the holidays. Your last package is big and feels empty. You shake it and hear nothing but giggling and whispers inside. Curiosity strikes and you open the package.
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"As he turned the corner in his delivery truck, Christian received a phone call. \n\n\"Honey? You almost done? Everyone is here and waiting for you!\"\n\nA smile formed over his face. Outside the weather may have been well below zero, but talking to his wife always made him feel warmth. \n\n\"Almost Sarah, I just have one more package to deliver and I should be home in about 40 minutes. It's pretty big, but strangely light.\"\n\nA package sits in his passenger seat. It was the largest one of the night, but was oddly light when he hoisted it into the car. \n\n\"Oh, your parents just got here. Alright, I'll see you soon. Love you!\"\n\n\"Thanks, I-\"\n\nBefore he could finish, a bump in the road sends his phone out of his hands and onto the passenger side of the car. He parks in an open lot to search for his phone. The truck is well insulated, but a storm is brewing just outside. \n\nAs he reaches down to get his phone, a faint laugh is heard. Curious, Christian puts his ear to the box, and hears soft voices coming from it, but too faint to make out. \n\nHe looks around to see his car alone in a lot. The address is to the city hospital which is just down the block, and made out for a \"Jaime\".\n\n\"Hmm.. well, maybe it wouldn't hurt to see what's inside.\"\n\nHe takes a box cutter from the glove compartment on the passenger's side. He hesitates for a moment, but his interest overwhelms him. He cuts the box open in a clean stroke, and cuts the sides to free the lid. \n\nInside, there is nothing but a cassette player, and the play button had been pressed. \n\n\"Huh, must have happened when i hit the bump in the road.\"\n\nAs he is grabs nearby tape, the laughter is heard clearly. It is a man and a young girl.\n\n\"Alright... Now tell her what you got!\"\n\n\"I got a doll, and the dress I wanted, and daddy got a watch from grandma! But don't worry mommy, we got something for you too for when you wake up!\" \n\n\"Shh, don't spoil it for her! she will open it when she comes home! Say goodnight.\"\n\n\"Goodnight mommy! I can't wait to see you tommorrow.\"\n\nChristian hears footsteps trailing off, but the tape continues to play.\n\n\"It's Christmas eve, Jessica. She's getting so big and beautiful... I-I.... I wish you could see her now. I talked to the doctor yesterday. He said I should just let go, that this has to happen eventually.\"\n\nThe man begins to cry. It is barely audible over the buzz of static. \n\n\"I just... want her to still believe you'll come back, that you'll wake up. Maybe I am doing it for myself. I don't know anymore. I just want us to be together again, to forget the accident... But I'll keep on smiling. Not for myself, but for both of you, for what you have given me. I'll always love you, no matter what happens. Merry Christmas, Jessica.\"\n\nThe tape ends with a sudden click, and all that is heard is the sound of wind and snow outside. \n",
"\"Yeah, screw you too!\" Robin shouted out of his cab window as he drove away from the red brick detached house. Stupid lass that occupied the house was screaming at him for dropping her delivery wrong. It didn't help that it was late at night on Christmas Eve, the traffic was terrible and it was raining hard.\n\nStopping off at a petrol station, Robin sipped from a piping hot flask of tea. Hugging his jacket closer to his shivering form, the delivery man placed his flask back into the cab before heading around to the back of his red van. After opening the back doors he was relieved to see one last package. A battered old cardboard box with sticky tape placed over multiple holes. Picking it up he felt something unexpected in that it felt completely empty. He shook the box up and down in an attempt to decipher what was inside, maybe it was a watch or jewellery?\n\nNope. Empty. Now Robin was even more confused. Who in the hell would order an empty box? Shaking his head, he was about to place it back inside and call back to the post office to enquire about the seemingly empty box when he heard a soft sound. A giggle. Turning his head from side to side to see what was making the sound, Robin realised that it sounded muffled. Turning his head to focus on the box he gave a small gasp as the sound of whispering emanated from the box. Dropping it from his gloved hands, he backed away rapidly from the box. He only stopped when his back hit the gas pump. \n\n\"What the hell is this?\" Robin muttered as he slowly made his way towards the box. Reaching into his pocket he took out his box cutter. Cutting down the sticky taped middle of the box, the curious man slowly opened it up to reveal... nothing.\n\nShaking his head, Robin chuckled to himself as he placed the box cutter back in his pocket. He was about to get up and close the doors when he saw a... face. A human face. Specifically that of a little boy, he was peering over the edge of the box and looking at Robin. The man in question gave a gasp and stumbled away, tripping over in shock. The boy was ghostly pale and skeletal. Yet he was smiling.\n\nAs quickly as he appeared, the boy was gone. Getting up from the pavement Robin made his way over to the box. He was breathing hard and vapour was drifting out of his mouth due to the cold. He looked inside the box once more only to find one thing: a note scratched onto the bottom of the cardboard. It was a single message.\n\n\"Thank you\". ",
"It was cold inside, and my coat was barely helping keep the chilly wind at bay. Sometimes I wish we had doors in our trucks; sure would make delivering packages more comfortable, especially during the holidays. Of course as a QPS driver I don’t get much say in the matter… Higher ups think it’s more efficient, I think they get paid too much. Let them sit in the cold for a few hours and see how quick we get doors… and hot chocolate…. And a raise? Probably not, couldn’t hurt to ask.\n\n\nI sipped my lukewarm chocolate, at least it was warmer than I was. I sighed, the box giggled, everyone was happy. Wait, did the box giggle?\n\n\n*Whisper*\n\n\nI pulled the truck over and put it in park before standing up to see what the hell was going on. Maybe I had been in the cold too long and my brain was fried...or frozen. Whatever. I stared at the box for a minute before it giggled again.\n\n\n“Hey, who is in there?!”\n\n\nMore whispers and then silence. I tapped the side of the box with my foot and it moved with little effort.\n\n\n“What the…hello?”\n\n\n*Giggle*\n\n\nThe box was certainly large enough to hold someone. I don’t remember loading this one though. Even so if there was someone inside it should be a lot heavier.\n\n\n*Whisper whisper*\n\n\n*Giggle*\n\n\n“Look, I’m going to open the box now. Come out, I won’t hurt you.”\n\n\nMy box cutter in hand I slowly and carefully cut the taped edges of the brown QPS box. I pulled the flaps open and peered inside.\n\n\nNothing. Zilch, nada, zero things inside the box. Just black.\n\n\n*Giggle*\n\n\nIt was louder, like it was next to me now.\n\n\n*Whisper whisper*\n\n\n*Whisper come whisper*\n\n\n*Giggle*\n\n\n“...Nope!”\n\n\nI started to shut the box and get the hell out of there, but something grabbed my arm. The fuzzy arm of a stuffed toy wrapped itself around my wrist. I pulled away, but it was stronger that I was. As my arm crossed into the murky darkness it became numb. It was as if my arm was gone, claimed by the box.\n\n\n“HELP! HELP!!”\n\n\n*Giggle*\n\n\nI finally lost my footing, tumbling head first past the threshold into the unknown. Looking up I saw a little square of light falling away from me into a single point, and then nothing. I was drifting now without sense or passage of time.\n\n\n*Whisper replace whisper*\n\n\nI tried to move but I had no legs, no arms. I tried to speak but I had no tongue to form words. I tried to breath but I had no lungs, and the box was suffocating me. The dark abyss squeezed at me from all sides with a crushing force on a body that didn’t exist. Everything started to feel fuzzy, like my insides were made of cotton.\n\n\n*Giggle*\n\n\nAnd then the light came back, first as a dot. It grew closer, more defined, became a square. I could hear again, words.\n\n\n“I wonder what I got this year!” She exclaimed, ripping the box open. Light shone in from above, revealing four normal walls of the now much smaller box. I reached out to one, but my arm wouldn’t respond. My legs wouldn’t work. I still couldn’t breathe, but I could see above me.\n\n\nA young girl towered over me looking down in disappointment, “Mom, this is for babies!”\n\n\nShe kicked the box over and I tumbled out rolling in front of a mirror. The cold glass eyes of a brown teddy bear stared back at me. I couldn’t move to run. I couldn’t cry or scream. I couldn’t wake up from this nightmare.\n\n___\n\nIf you'd like more teddy bears to comfort you, check out my subreddit /r/thesadbox.",
"\nAdam was close to his first early finish on Christmas eve for the first time since Emily was born, he wasn’t long off the phone with Mary, his wife of 9 years. He had let her in on the good news, that it was only 2pm and he was already on his home straight, his last 5 packages. She was delighted of course but barely managed to get a word in over Emily who was eavesdropping on the conversation and decided to begin the celebrations early. To be fair to Emily her excitement hadn’t ramped up all that much from her default 5-year-old holiday ecstasy. Adam had worked as a delivery driver for close to 15 years now and had it down to something of a fine art, his last 5 drops of the day where all on 5th Avenue followed by a quick trip down 3rd back to the depot and then Christmas could begin.\n \nAdam loved it when his day wound down enough that he could start counting the packages and not the hours, especially when he hit his last 5, it was sort of his favourite number if such a thing didn’t feel to childish for a 38 year old guy from Brooklyn. He pulled up to his first drop on 5th and whistled his way cheerily to the back of the truck, he swung open the doors and hopped inside in one swift if graceless leap. Usually on the colder days he would need to unhook the short ladder thanks to the early on set arthritis in his left knee, but not today. Today was a good day.\n\n He was barely two steps inside the truck when he stopped dead. An uneasy sense of anxiety seeped over him and the air went cold. It took him a long time to realise what he was looking at but when he did it chilled his blood. There was a 6th package there, but how could there be 6? An innocent mistake he supposed, but why did he feel so on edge about it? He must have just counted them wrong, that all it could happen to the best of us. But still, it was so large and unusually shaped, almost 5 feet tall and maybe a couple wide and the shape was a hell of a distinctive one, it looked remarkable like, well like something he didn’t want to admit to himself. Wrapped up in green and red Christmas paper it wasn’t something he thought he would miss. He stood frozen for what felt like far too long. A short smile appeared on his face and soon made its way into laughter. What’s wrong with you Adam? You can’t count to 6, big deal, let’s get on with it and get home for Christmas. His own sound advice was all he needed to brush off the uneasy feeling. He strode confidently up to the 6th package to check the delivery address. Thank God he thought, the address was only a block past the depot, down near the docks. If it had been back across the Queensboro he would have been devastated.\n\nHe made his way down 5th, finishing up the rest of his delivery’s, but something had changed, that parcel in the back was making him uneasy it had certainly knocked his festive cheer. He felt silly, he really did and he probably wouldn’t admit this to anyone, but every time he went in the back to grab another package, he just couldn’t turn his back on it. As if it would lunge at him, pounce, pin him down and leave him trapped in the back of the truck until sometime after Christmas. He had heard stories of such things happening in warehouses, but never in a truck and certainly not with any kind of intention. He made his way down past the depot and drove for another 20 minutes or so until he found himself lost in a maze of shipping containers and cranes down at the docks. A few more minutes and he finally found the address, tucked away in the corner of the yard. Surely this wasn’t right he thought, the building looked abandoned, and not recently either. It was an old crane control house, or so he assumed. It was getting dark and the clouds overhead weren’t doing him any favours, some heavy snow fall was looking likely. There was nothing for it, he would simply take the package out and prop it up by the door and get the hell out of there before any weird shit happened. \n\nHe made his way into the back of the truck, using the ladder for the first time today, his knee seemed to be playing up, he had an overwhelming sense of unease which seemed to emphasize the grinding of his cartilage giving it the feel of broken glass. As he stepped towards the package, he stopped once more unable to deny his ill thoughts any longer. It was clearly a fucking coffin. It was a short coffin, the kind you… well… the kind you bury a child in wrapped in distastefully cheery Christmas paper. Once more he shook it off and made his way to the package, trying to figure out how to best carry it although honestly the thought of touching the dammed thing was worse than looking at it. \n\n“And Waht Wuold You Lkie for Chistmras, HeHeHeHe”\n\nAdam almost lost his mind, he was sure he had just heard noises coming from the package, not only noises but words, he was sure he had heard words coming from the short coffin. Against his greatest instinct he took a few steps closer and listened carefully. \n\n“A Kinfe? For Chistmras? Why Waht a Wofnduerll Ieda! HeHeHeHe”\n\nAdams eyes were locked to the package and his jaw hung open barely able to take breath let alone speak. He finally manage to let out a week and shallow ‘Hello’.\n\nThe Package fell silent. \n\n"
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The line is from Bioshock Infinite, but you can take it in any direction you want, this is NOT an EU prompt.
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[WP] Bring us the girl, and wipe away the debt.
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"**THIS INVOLVES CHARACTERS AND STORIES FROM THE GAME- SPOILERS**\n\n\"*Booker. Are you afraid of God?*\"\n\nI gasped as I sat up. I was sweating all over- my blankets were in a bundle, on the ground. I couldn't even remember the damned nightmare- but that unsettling feeling was still there...\n\nA soft cry came from the next room. *Perfect timing* I thought, opening the door and went quickly to the growing wails. She was standing in her crib, peeking over to see me, sobbing all the while. \n\n\"My little Anna...\" The cries had ceased. My cooing worked, and she had begun laughing now. *Such a beautiful little girl*... Just like her mother. \n\nI picked her up and rocked her back and forth as her gurgling and laughter grew louder. It was late, I remembered... So I put her back softly into the crib. And then an even worse thought crept up to me, as I recalled what was to happen...\n\nA knock came at the door. *It seems tonight is full of odd cues*... I knew who it was. I was half-dreading it- and half-anticipating it. \n\n\"Hello, Mr. DeWitt. I hear you've agreed to our little proposition then?\" A proper man- a proper face and proper speech...\n\nI nodded- even snarled a \"Yes\" (which he gave a little smile to).\n\n\"What kind of people have any use with a... child, anyhow...\"\n\nNo response. Why would I expect one. The moments were going by now, so fast. It was practically a blur. At this point- what did I have but booze? No money- a mountain of debt... No job, family... *Family*... No... Nothing.\n\nWalking over to the crib felt like an eternity- and then handing the baby over to this man felt longer...\n\nI blacked out for a moment- nothing had ever happened like that...\n\n*The debt is payed*... \n\nThen I was back, not knowing where I was- but knowing I wanted to go.\n\nI'd arrived apparently- to an alleyway, with nothing in sight but a few shadows ahead... I hadn't remembered anything- but I was sure what I had to do- and I wouldn't stop at anything to get her back...\n\nI found that proper man- and another, strangely familiar man (with an unkempt beard and a sort of seriousness to him) in the streets just a few blocks from my place... They hurried when they saw me approaching.\n\n\"The deal is off.\" I yelled to them. \"Give her back. Give her back!\"\n\nThen- the brick wall before us- in this dirty, nowhere alley in the city- gave out and- melted- yes, *melted* and gave way to some odd thing... A hole- that lead to... another place?\n\n\n\"Let's go.\" I was stunned- then I broke at that moment. Blacked out for another quick second, and found myself trying to tear Anna away from these strangers. The two men had gone through as well, and I was now panicking- wanting to pry Anna from this- weirdly, recognizable man...\n\n*What am I doing? What have I done?* \n\nThat strange- (magical?)- hole slowly shrank, as I tugged harder at the crying Anna- the frantic face on the familiar man becoming worse. \n\n\"**Give me back my daughter**!\"\n\nAs if in slow-motion, the hole disappeared into nothingness, little Anna's hand reaching out desperately to me, just a bit away from me-\n\nAnd then it was gone... Drenched in the rain, wondering why I did what I did...\n\n*I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...*\n\nSomething... beyond my comprehension- has happened. But- what? And... *Where is Anna*? I saw something small- red and white- almost gleaming in dark alleyway. When I bent down to examine it further- it seemed to be... a small... and bloody finger...\n\nAnnabelle...\n\n*If I were given a second chance*, I would have never have let you go...",
"\"Bring us the girl, and wipe aw-\"\n\n\"I heard you the first time.\" Rom leaned on his warhammer like a crutch, resting a hand on his hip. \"I'm still not going to do it.\"\n\nThe hooded figure stood unnaturally motionless, it's face masked entirely in shadow. It spoke with several voices at once, \"It is not your place to question us mortal. You were once the chosen hero, but the mantel has passed.\" He felt whatever it had that passed for eyes glaring at him from under its hood. \"We did not... aquire your soul out of compassion. Retrieve the girl and you shall be free to roam this earth once more.\"\n\n\"You see, that's the thing.\" Rom hefted his hammer onto his shoulder, \"I didn't ask for you to pluck me out of wherever I was, so way I see it, I don't owe you nothing.\" He eyed the creature with growing contempt. \"I died to keep things like you locked away, but seems my descendant is doing a piss poor job of that.\"\n\nIt continued to remain motionless, until it lifted one of its arms to point at him. Suddenly a searing pain erupted from his hand where the hero's mark had once been. Rom fell to the floor screaming, his warhammer clattering against the marble. \n\nHe managed to look up to see that the creature had gotten closer, looming over him. \"I shall explain this in simple terms for you to understand. There is one who bares your mark anew. It is not... within our power to dispose of her... but you...\" It leaned closer to Rom's face, the darkness under its hood still remained complete.\n\n\"Do you think I'm going to help yo-\" He was silenced by another shot of pain from his hand. He glanced at his palm to see the mark was now a twisted black monstrosity of what it once was.\n\n\"Again, we shall use simple terms... You shall be our agent. By exploiting a... kind of exploit in the divine law, if you are to kill the new hero, the cycle shall end. With her body, we shall be able to retrieve the power that is rightfully ours.\"\n\nRom writhed on the ground, looking up at the creature. \"Say I do it, say I bring her to you, why would I want to live in a world where *you* have that power.\"\n\nIt stood upright again, \"With our power restored. We will be able to retrieve... other souls.\" It gestured two of its arms and a ghostly image of a woman appeared. No, not just a woman. \n\n\"You... you could do that? You could bring her back.\"\n\n\"Yes... but not now. Once our power is restored, and your debt repaid. We shall reward you for your deeds. Forgive past transgressions...\" \n\nRom rose shakily to his feet, \"I... if you can do this. If you keep your promise...\"\n\nIt made a mocking bow, extending its four arms in a wide flourish, \"We are a being of our word. Bring us the girl, and wipe away the debt.\"\n\nIt began to sink into the ground, forming an inky black pool, \"You have been bestowed a fraction of our power. Use it. Bring us the girl.\"\n\nThe voice echoed in Rom's ears long after it had gone. He knelt to retrieve his hammer, then opened his hand to look at his mark again. Clenching his fist, he made off for the citadel. It was where \"she\" would probably be. \n\n\"Bring them the girl...\"\n\n\n*Author's Note - A half formed concept came to mind, so I tried to just get something written. Might hate this when I reread it tomorrow morning, but we'll see.*",
"\"No!\" I screamed as I brought the hammer down on his head.\nWHAM\nIt missed and hit the ground instead.\n\"Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt,\" I turned around and saw the man in red robes again.\n\"I will never give you Sally... NEVER!\" I screamed as I charged at him hammer raised.\nWHAM!\nThe hammer hit the wall again.\n\"God DAMN IT!\" I shouted. I turned around again seeing six men in red robes creating a half circle trapping me against the cement wall.\n\"Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt,\" they all said in unison.\n\"BRING US THE GIRL!!!\" They shouted in unison.\n\"No!\" I shouted back.\n\"Last chance...\" they told me. I started to cry.\n\"Please, just leave my daughter alone...\" I pleaded.\n\"She is not your daughter.\" They told me.\n\"She is! And I would never do anything to her to save myself...\" I told them.\n\"Then you have made your choice.\" They all reached inside their robes and pulled out six jagged daggers, then they started walking towards me.",
"\n*Bring us the girl, and wipe away the debt.*\n\nJon crumpled the paper into a tight ball, growling in frustration. Three times he had gotten the letter, heavy parchment with the message spelled out in magazine clippings. As if he didn't know who had sent it. *What* had sent it. Furiously, he threw it into a corner to bounce among the others. \n\n\"Another one?\" Asked Amalia, raising an elegantly arched eyebrow. She was tall, and pale, with a long, barely-visible scar that started at the base of her eyebrow and ended at a missing notch in her ear. If Jon hadn't known her for as long as he had, he would have been quite intimidated by her - especially from where she sat, towering above the room from her pyramid-like throne. But by now, he knew better. Lady Amalia didn't take well to cowards. \n\n\"Yes, my lady.\" Jon replied, looking at his feet so that his curly black hair eclipsed his glowing cheeks. \"Apologies, I didn't mean to lose my temper.\" \n\n\"What did they say this time?\" She asked. \"It must have been quite jarring, judging by your reaction.\" \n\n\"Nothing, my lady!\" Jon said, taken aback. Then, somewhat subdued, he continued, \"They called you a girl...as if you were nothing to them. A child. It isn't right!\" \n\n\"Peace, Jon.\" Replied Amalia. She stood, and her night-black dress fell from her throne like a cascade of ink. \"'Tis no insult: To them, I am sure that I seem but a girl. Compared to their collective time, my own must seem as as short as a mayfly's.\"\n\n\"Still, they have no right.\" Jon replied. \"They have never regarded you with any respect - respect you have *earned*.\" He watched as Lady Amalia lept out into empty air, only to drift down slowly like a falling feather. \n\n\"True. Yet, is it any surprise they treat me with such disdain?\" She said, touching down lightly beside him. \"After all, I earned that respect by fighting, nay, *killing* beings such as they. In truth, I find it remarkable that they seek to address me at all.\" \n\n\"They know that they cannot touch you here, in your seat of power...and yet, Lady Amalia, they *do not* address you!\" Jon said, feeling fire rush through his blood once again. \"They send their demands to me, asking me to deliver you like some...cowardly dog. As if they expect me to betray you.\" He looked up, and to his surprise found that Lady Amalia was smiling. \n\n\"They do not know you as I do.\" She said, stroking his bristle-covered cheek with gentle care. \"They think you a simple mortal, like they once were. Their experience only comes from those within their fold, cowards and weaklings and meek too the man. Not men like you, who would rather die than give up their dignity. Peace, Jon, for I know that you would never betray me.\" Without a sound, Lady Amalia drifted away from Jon and her throne, towards the vast oaken doors that marked the entrance to her palace. \n\n\"My lady, where are you going?\" Jon asked, blinking in surprise. \n\n\"To go and treat with them, of course!\" Amalia replied, looking at him coyly over one shoulder. \"It is as you said, they will not come to me - and every moment I leave them be, they wreak havoc on my kingdom. Besides...they have unduly upset my favorite swordsman. I can hardly allow that insult to pass me by and continue to call myself Queen, no?\" She winked at him, and Jon fell to one knee, armor clanking. \n\n\"Come, Jon.\" She said, beckoning to him. \"Let us be off at once.\"\n\n\"We have a war to finish.\" "
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[WP] Your entire life you've been told that you were the chosen one, but you don't know what for. Your insatiable need to pull practical jokes has the elders wondering if they had the prophecy correct.
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"Have you ever met anyone who's both famous and infamous at the same time? Hated and loved? Well, if your name happened to Niles Bruckyln, then you're exactly that person. Quite a peculiar situation to be in, actually, but let us first give some background to the story.\n\nI was born in the Dragon Year of 777, at exactly 7 in the morning, after 7 hours of labor, wailing for a full 7 minutes before dropping. With such a unique birth circumstances, it was not surprising that people began to talk. Not just any people, but the elders themselves. Those old geezers who make all the important decisions in our village. \n\nSomething about a prophecy, they said. Of how I was the chosen one. Destined to bring peace of some sorts. Pure hogwash, if you ask me. What they did was to separate me from my parents, bringing me into some monastery to ensure that I will grow up to fulfill my destiny.\n\nI was mandated to learn every lesson out there that is deemed important. Maths, science, survival, combat and leadership. They fed and clothed me in the best, so I can be prepared for when adversity strikes. \n\nIt's all quite cool sounding with only a small catch: They never really told me what I was meant for. What my destiny really is. I tried to press them for it, several times, but their answer was always the same \"You'll know it when the time comes\".\n\nI waited, as how they instructed. And waited. Until I eventually grew bored. Until I began to wonder if it was all one giant joke instead. Trapped in the monastery with not many friends or family, it's hard not to get crazy sometimes.\n\nTo entertain myself, I began to play pranks on those poor elders. To get them into embarrassing situations, just for laughs.\n\nThey ignored me at first, not surprisingly. Being the chosen one does have its perks. Despite how many pails of filthy water I drop on them, how many times I caused them to trip or how I led them around the school on a literal wild goose chase - turns out the elders are quite hapless when it comes to animal control - I was never admonished, scolded. It was quite amusing, how the elders had to keep up a smiling facade despite how many tricks I play on them.\n\nBut things have begun to change. Living in a small place, rumors tend to spread quickly. There have been questions among the elders of I am indeed the chosen one. All I do is to play, while ignoring important school lessons. Some of them wondered if I will be ready for the coming, whatever that means. There were even murmurs that they may have made the wrong prophecy.\n\nWhich is fine by me, if you ask. I have never asked to be part of their stupid prophecy anyway. I hated being cut off from the world. So I kept up with my pranks, annoying the elders, hoping that they would eventually send me away, realising that I was not any chosen one. \n\nBut the day never came. I was awoken from my sleep rudely one day, with the sounds of shouts and screams coming from all direction. The smell of smoke hung ominously in the air as columns of thick black smoke rose in the horizon.\n\nOne of the elders, his clothes torn and covered in ash, hastily slapped on a battle armor on me. I was led out to a field overseeing hundreds of soldiers, all looking anxiously at me.\n\n\"I don't know if the prophecy is true or not, but now is a good time as any to find out,\" the elder beside me said, before handing me a gold broadsword and shield.\n\n/r/dori_lukey"
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Grammar Edit
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[WP] Everything has a small arrow and the word "upgrade" over it. Press it and you can upgrade the item into a better verison. You've used the abikity sparingly, new phones, better cars, however today you made the ultimate mistake. You pressed the button over a person.
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"Sarah smiles as she watches the movie, unaware I have stopped watching. I couldn't help it, I was distracted by the dial just above her head.\n\nAs far as I could tell I was the only one who saw them. They hovered over everything: trees, couches, people, streets. When I was young I used to mess with them all the time. That was when I'd learned most of the rules. Turning the dial to the right improved whatever the dial was hovering over. Turning it to the left degraded it. Pressing it in froze it forever.\n\nOnly when I was a teenager did I learn that only I saw the changes. All my friends laughed at me when I told them about my new car. As it turned out, they still saw the hand-me-down clunker my father had given me.\n\nStill, the power had its uses. My television became a home theater system and my food was always first class. I learned to be careful with what I changed and to be mindful of what I said to others. I made a few mistakes, but nothing too damning.\n\nThen I met her.\n\nI knew from the first moment I saw her that we were made for each other. And somehow or another, she saw the same thing in me. We dated. I propsed, and on our wedding day as we stood on the alter, I chose to always see her as I did then.\n\nEven now I have to admit that it was a beautiful sentiment.\n\n\"The movie is done,\" Sarah says and I look over to see her smiling at me. I wonder if she's still beautiful, but more importantly I wonder if she's really smiling. \n\n\"Oh, I hadn't noticed.\"\n\n\"You're getting old,\" she says, and I wonder if she's joking with me or if she really means it. \n\nEverything is a smile. She could be crying and I wouldn't know. She tells me she's going to bed with a smile, and she wakes up with a smile. She talks to Joe with the same smile she shared with me on our wedding day.\n\nI don't even know who she is anymore. Is she happy with me? Is she happy with life? I know we've been fighting because of what she says, but I never know how she truly feels. \n\nShe says she's mad at me because I never comfort her when she's sad. I tell her it's not my fault, I just can't read her like that. She tells me if I truly loved her I would just know.\n\n\"Are you happy?\" I ask her.\n\n\"What type of question is that?\" she asks without turning to look at me.\n\n\"I don't know,\" is all I can say back. \"Are you though?\"\n\nShe sighs. \"Right now? I'm happy enough.\"\n\nHappy enough. A non answer. The kind of answer someone gives when they're not really happy. Or when they are happy enough. Even with voice inflection it's hard to tell what she means. Is she exasperated because we're having this conversation again? Or because she's tired of me? Do I dare ask her which one it is?\n\n\"Are you happy?\" She asks.\n\n\"Yes!\" I say. \"I think so,\" I add.\n\n\"If you don't even know how you feel,\" she says, but doesn't finish her thought. \"What do you want.\" She says and it's hard to tell if she really wants to know or not.\n\n\"I think we should get a divorce,\" I finally say.\n\nShe turns to me with the same happy smile she wore on our wedding day and she says, \n\n\"Okay.\"",
"My life was miserable.\n\nAnd this piece of shit was really getting on my nerves.\n\nI am a master of my craft. I studied for years under the greatest concert pianists alive today. I have performed for thousands to a standing ovation. I can sight-read any piece of music put in front of me, no matter how difficult. My ears can pick out any note from a chord. I have transcribed countless orchestral pieces by ear alone. And yet, he still insists that I must have *misheard* him.\n\n\"Excuse me, I asked for decaf,\" he insisted, not realizing how ridiculous he sounded.\n\n\"No, I definitely would have heard that. And it doesn't say decaf on your receipt.\"\n\n\"Then you must have put it in wrong. I always get decaf. I come into this cafe every day and get the same thing.\"\n\n\"It's the only explanation. I'll have you know that I have transcribed...\" I started, but he cut me off.\n\n\"There's no way I can even drink caffeinated coffee.\" He was getting angry now. \"It makes me too jittery, and I can't have my hands shaking at all! Can you imagine if my hand were to shake even the slightest bit while performing surgery? Your mistake could have cost lives, young man! If I... WHAT THE FUCK!?!\" he exclaimed. \n\nWhile he was talking about how *important* he is, I got fed up with him. There had to be a better version of him that wasn't such a goddamn asshole so... I pressed his upgrade button.\n\n\"Did you just press my button?\" he shouted, incredulously.\n\n\"Yes I did,\" I calmly replied. \"It looks like it didn't work because you're still a colossal hell-cunt, but maybe you have a super power or something.\"\n\n\"But... you can't just press someone's button.\"\n\n\"Well you didn't blow up or anything like that, so I suppose you should really be thanking me.\" Pressing someone's upgrade button was illegal, because it could work in unexpected ways. Some people would get unexpectedly stronger, and the rapid muscle growth could hospitalize them. Some people just exploded, although doctors haven't been able to figure out exactly what causes that one. I knew it was a risk, but I had been talked down to enough already today. His button was glowing red just above his head, absolutely begging to be pushed.\n\nHis jaw hadn't picked up off the floor since I had done it. \"But, that's illegal! What the fuck were you thinking? You could have killed me, hell you could have even killed yourself!\"\n\nI sighed. \"That sounded like a good alternative to listening to you for another second.\"\n\nHis left hand balled into a fist while his right pointed a finger at me. \"I can't believe this! You broke the law! You violated me and put everyone in this cafe in danger! I'm calling the cops.\" He pulled out his cell phone and unlocked it. I could see him press 9 before I interjected.\n\n\"Wait, wait, wait. There's got to be something else we can do. I'm sure I can make it up to you.\"\n\nHe looked at me skeptically. \"Really? I'm pretty sure you don't have enough money to make a difference for me.\"\n\n\"Any chance you need a pianist?\" I asked uncertainly.\n\n\"What! No, I'm straight, you creep!\" He went back to his phone.\n\n\"No, no! I'll let you push my button!\" I said so quickly I'm surprised he could understand me. I'm not sure why I said it, it's not like pushing my upgrade button would give him anything. But for some reason he paused. He turned to face me, and for the first time there was no anger. He seemed to consider it for a moment before responding.\n\n\"Ok. But let's go into the corner booth, just in case.\"\n\nI reluctantly came around the counter and walked to the corner with him. \"Alright,\" I started, \"I'm going to count down from three, and when I say 'zero', you reach for the... WHAT THE FUCK!\"\n\nI watched him draw his hand back from above my head. That fucker! He had pushed my button before I was ready! Although, come to think of it, I did agree to let him push it in the first place. If I was going to be honest with myself, I really shouldn't have told him to do that. I was just in such a bind at the time, I really couldn't risk the police getting involved. And, in the interest of fairness, that bind was my fault in the first place. If I hadn't tried to upgrade him, he wouldn't have had a reason to call the police. I should apologize, that was really a nasty thing to do to someone.\n\n\"Look, I'm really sorry I pressed your button earlier. I was clearly in the wrong, and acted quite irresponsibly. The least I can do to make it up to you is remake your coffee. Might you like a free pastry as well?\"\n\nThe man stared at me dumbfounded, and then threw back his head and laughed.",
"Surely it can't be THAT morally wrong... \n\nThree weeks have passed since Tok Teck unveiled their \"upgrade\" feature for premium users. Stocks in the company skyrocketed overnight as consumers scrambled over each other to apply for the coveted premium membership. Based on the now archaic idea of upgrading your phone every couple of years, you can now press the little arrow in your holo-display of the world, and a new, fancier version of the object it was attached to will be delivered the next day. \n\n\"Nothing wrong with that\" you might say, probably sat at home at your computer that will last you till the end of next year (if you're lucky) or the phone that will crash two weeks before you're due to get a new one. We live in a disposable culture, everything gets thrown to the wayside on the road for the newer shinier thing. \n\nOkay, so the moral decision. An upgrade icon just appeared above my wife's head. Now, I don't hate my wife, but, to quote Rupert Holmes, she was like \"a worn out recording, of a favourite song.\"\n\nI've got the song on in the car right now in fact. Driving through the quiet suburbs, I'm wondering what would happen if I select it. An upgrade can only mean something better right? Could it mean an improvement on her life too? \n\nMy first reaction to the thought of pressing the button was that of pure horror. It's been a couple of days now and I'm seriously thinking about the implications for her too. We're getting towards the age now where our bodies are slowing down. Does pressing the button mean that she will suddenly be revitalised? Is it worth the risk? \n\nIF she does get replaced, would that be such a bad thing? She might go to a better home, to someone who could love her more than I ever could. Rock stars seem to be constantly changing their wives in for younger models, why should I be so different? \n\nI'm home now. Why is the door open? I enter to find my wife on the floor, the house ransacked. The culprits were long gone so all I could do was hold her in my arms. I frantically dialed the emergency services on my hologlasses. As I looked at my wife... the upgrade button flickered... this was my one chance to save her. I pressed the button. \n",
"\"Hi, my name is John,\" I began, met with a resounding 'welcome John' from the rest of the attendees, \"and a month ago I used an upgrade on myself.\" I paused, taking a deep breath to steady myself, a technique that the group had recommended in my first session.\n\n\" I was on the end of a small spree, having upgraded a large number of things around my home. I figured that, if the arrow was above me, it would work on myself as well. And, given the jumps these arrows give, the difference it made, I thought it might finally solve my problem, once and for all. And after I pressed it, all the arrows, over everything, they were just gone. And I, I was still the same as before. No different at all. I'm still disappointed, but coping.\" I finished, taking a seat again to minor supportive applause. Shortly after, the meeting continued, as the man on my left stood to speak his piece.\n\nThe rest of the meeting usually blurs for me, except for the end of today. A new face, she was definitely my age, spoke of how she had tried to upgrade herself, thinking it would make her more attractive. She wasn't bad looking, probably had no idea just how pretty she was relatively. After finishing her story, she gave me a muted smile.\n\nAfter adjournment, she made a beeline towards me, but a literal beeline, where she ends up visiting everyone else before ending with me. \"Hey, I wanted to ask, what about yourself did you hope to change?\" She led, her blunt question not uncommon to me after my time with the group.\n\"Well, I didn't feel like i was really me, so I was hoping to change to look more like what I felt I really looked like.\" I repeated, having sanitized the response down via rigorous testing.\n\"What were you hoping for?\" She responded, not missing a beat. I instinctively reached for my phone, pulling it up to dig for the picture that held all of my hopes and dreams, before showing her the screen.\n\"Something like this.\" I replied casually, as I watched her face turn to wonder, then disgust, before handing my phone back and walking away in a huff.\n\nThat was the first, and last, time she ever spoke to me or acknowledged my existence.",
"Life's been great since the last update. My white 2004 Chevy Aveo is now an all black 2016 Maserati Ghibli after a few upgrades! Not like that's the best thing to happen though, seen as I was a poor college kid just 2 years ago, my bank account has a few extra zeros in it now behind what used to be $172.57.. they say you're not supposed to upgrade things while you're wearing them, but I thought I'd give it a shot last week with my old ripped up boot cut Levi's, the \"upgrade\" turned to skinny jeans so tight I wasn't sure if the family jewels would ever retract from within my stomach. Needless to say, I could not get those fucking things off so I had to cut them off. I've come to learn that not every upgrade is a good one, especially the most recent mistake. My girlfriend has been constantly nagging me about how stressed she is, how I haven't been lasting particularly long in bed lately, she's just been an all around bitch to me lately. Well my dumbass decided about a week ago maybe if I chose to upgrade her in her sleep, we would have a healthier relationship. To my surprise, her breast went from a C to DD, her behind seemed to become both slightly larger and firmer (which I ain't complaining about), things were lookin like it all worked out! \n\nThen she woke up in the morning... holy fuck, the sex didn't last half as long as before, which wasn't terrible for me, but oh boy was she mad when she looked in the mirror. \"This is what you wanted me to look like?!\" Was the initial response, but it wasn't just her looks that were upgraded. She can now actively convince me I'm wrong when I'm not, her ability to bitch about literally nothing has increased 10 fold, and as of today, her stress has resulted in acne (she has always had flawless skin) and she's gained 15 pounds since the \"upgrade\". Stay tuned for the next upgrade... \n\nEdit: girlfriend and I have decided that we are even now... she upgraded me during my post-lunch nap and my once average sized wiener is now a 12\" monster. Can't say I'm mad, but the extra weight is a bit unusual. "
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[WP] You have passed your trials, made your sacrifices, and surpassed the veil between life and death. Your lifelong goal of becoming a lich has been achieved. Your friend walks up and says, "That was a complicated way of doing it."
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"I laughed. \"If only it was so easy, right?\"\n\n\"No,\" said Brad. \"I'm serious. It is that easy.\"\n\nI laughed again. Oh, Brad. These mortals were so silly sometimes. Those who hadn't undergone the Trial of Fortean and endured the Slime Pits of Gal'ganeth had such an immature, undeveloped sense of what it took to become a Lich. Those who hadn't withstood the Death By A Thousand Blows or the survived the Fall From An Airplane With No Parachute (literally) could never come close to comprehending what sort of sacrifice was required to gain this immortality. For it was an ethereal thing, some vaporous, nebulous idea that had to be seized by a wise hand and shaped to this purpose; there was nothing simple about it, there was no easy road to attain what I had attained.\n\n\"Look that shit up, bro,\" said Brad. \"Google it. Wikipedia it. How to become a lich. It's right there.\"\n\nI guffawed once again, a hearty \"ah ha, ha, ha.\" Oh, Brad. Brad, who had lived with his mother all his life. Brad, who had been working in retail for the past ten years. Brad, who had never undergone the Pit Of Unspeakable Terror and who had never had to endure the Amulet of Clinging Souls. Oh, Brad. Immortality would forever be out of your grasp. Immortality was a concept that such a simpleton as yourself could never understand.\n\n\"See?\" said Brad. \"It's right here. how-to-become-a-real-lich.com.\" He scrolled through some ridiculous, mortal *websites* on his laptop. \"It says here, the first thing you need is a phylactery.\"\n\nI began to laugh again, but then stopped short. \"Excuse me? This website knows about the phylactery?\"\n\n\"Yeah,\" said Brad. \"Like I told you, it's all here. This is how I became a lich.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" I said to Brad, who had never seen the Darkness of Armugrad or the Lights of the Thousand Suns. \"I'm *sure* you became a lich from a simple how-to online guide. You shall never understand the sacrifice, the absolute *giving* of oneself that is required to attain the status which I have attaineth.\"\n\n\"Man,\" said Brad. \"Why are you always talking like that recently? We went to high school together, dude. You think you're so much more wise than me now?\"\n\n\"Brad,\" I began, chuckling as much to myself as at him. \"You, who I once spent time with in a gym locker room; you, who I once called *friend* -- things have changed now. Life is different. We are different. You have never once been in the places I have been. You have never hovered between the boundary of life and death, keeping one foot in each while the Thousand Rats of Falandagra gnawed at your worldly flesh. You have never pulled your own soul from its corporeal shell to hide it away in an unknowable place where it will be safe from any who wish it harm--\"\n\n\"No, dude,\" interrupted Brad. \"I've totally done the whole soul thing. Look here -- step 5.\"\n\nI looked it over. Huh, strangely accurate. \"OK,\" I said. \"But you, Brad, you silly, silly little construction of flesh and bones, you have never spent an eternity in the Veil of A Thousand Years, where every moment lasts a lifetime and you must truly--\"\n\n\"Nope,\" interrupted Brad again. \"Step 7 says that part's unnecessary. I just skipped to the whole *soul ceremony* thing.\"\n\nI looked over step 7. Seemed about right. \"And where,\" I laughed, \"Might I ask did you store your soul?\" It was a trick question, see, for a true Lich would never reveal the location of his phy--\n\n\"My shoes,\" said Brad. \"I put my soul in my shoes.\"\n\nI guffawed. \"Your *shoes*, Brad? Your simple, mortal, peasant *shoes*?\"\n\n\"Bro,\" said Brad. \"These are Air Jordans.\"\n\nI had tired of Brad. On the scale of eternity, a simple moment means nothing, and so it was then that I produced a sharp dagger of enchanted steel; it had been during the Tribulations of the Faithless Souls that I had received this dagger, and in it was enchanted the pain and despair of those countless dead who had lost their lives during the ceremonies of Lichdom. With a sad sigh I pierced poor Brad's heart and watched his blood spill out onto the floor before me.\n\n\"Bro,\" he said, grasping his chest with a surprised look.\n\nIt was as I'd expected. Brad was, as they say \"all talk and no walk.\" As his life force left him, I could do nothing more than -- wait, what was this? As I watched, a strange energy erupted from his feet -- from his shoes -- and filled his failing shell. In a moment, there was a flash and Brad stood before me again, healthy as he'd ever been.\n\n\"Bro,\" he continued. \"Can you please not do that? I may be immortal like you, but I still feel pain, you know? And shit, man! You got blood on the phylactery!\" He looked down at his shoes and lifted one foot to try and rub the blood away.\n\nThere beside him sat his laptop, a simple 10-step how-to guide on the screen, with such steps as \"say these words.\" No mention of The Staring Contest of Eternal Doom or the Head-First Plunge Into Infinity. No mention, either of the Man Who Speaks In Riddles or the Witch Who Steals Kidneys. Had I been tricked? Had I been bamboozled, as they say? Hoodwinked?\n\nI laughed at this. Oh, Brad. I don't know how he did it, how he evaded my death blow and managed to still stand before me, but it was a good trick. He could never understand the ultimate sacrifice I had made. He could never compare to the wisdom that flowed through me.\n\nBut as he dabbed a piece of fabric with his own spittle and wiped at his shoes, I couldn't help but feel that maybe I was wrong.\n"
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[WP] A neurosurgeon offers a painless cheaper alternative to plastic surgery by tricking the patients brain into thinking they look beautiful.
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"\"Welcome Miss Watkins, please take a seat.\" Doctor Green gestured to the chair by his desk, as the well coiffed brunette followed him in to the wood panelled office. \n\"How are we today?\" \n\n\"Spare me the chitchat doctor, I know this is just a formality. Why do we even need to go through this?\" \n\n\"A psychiatric evaluation? Because of the nature of what we are proposing to do together, Miss Watkins. This will change you, and I need to be certain that you can handle this change.\" \n\n\"I just want to feel pretty Doc,\" she batted her eyelashes, \"Is that not enough?\" \n\n\"Sarcasm tends to hinder rather than help, it is often just a shield for what we truly think.\" \n\nShe scoffed, \"Truly think? You know what I truly think, you know what anyone thinks when they come here. We know we can't afford a plastic surgeon so we come to do the next best thing with what we can spare.\" \n\n\"So that's all this is to you, the next best thing?\" \n\nShe arched an eyebrow, \"And is that so bad? If the next best thing gets you what you want then what's wrong with it?\" \n\n\"I suppose Miss Watkins, the question would then be what you want.\" \n\n\"What do I want?\" She looked around the room, before pausing at a small mirror above the sink in the corner. \"I want to be beautiful again. I want to walk down the street and feel like every man and his put upon wife are staring at me because I take their goddamn breath away. I want to walk into a bar and have five guys buy me drinks and then say no to every single one of them. I want freedom, doctor, freedom from this, this cage I have around me.\" \n\n\"And what cage might that be?\" \n\n\"Perception.\" \n\nHe smiled, \"But Miss Watkins, perception comes from both inside, and outside. This process will only change how you see yourself, not how others see you, is that enough?\" \n\n\"It is. It's all I want. This cage is one that I've made for myself, not something I was put in by glossy magazine ads or some starlet on television, I'm the only one that can break it.\" \n\n\"And would breaking it bring you contentment? Peace?\" \n\nShe sighed, her well manicured nails tapping against her alligator skin handbag. \nShe toyed with the clasp for a moment, before opening the bag and reaching into its insides. She pulled out a cheque, slamming it on the desk before her. \n\n\"Miss Watkins, payment is not due until the process is confirmed. By us.\" \n\nShe paused, tucking a lock of dark auburn hair behind her ear.\n\n\"Do you know how it feels doctor? To wake up every morning, see yourself in the mirror, and just feel like shit?\" Her voice began to quaver. \"Do you mind if I smoke?\" \n\n\"Not at all, patients often need something to calm their nerves.\" \n\nHer fingers trembled as she lifted the lighter to the cigarette, a puff of smoke escaping her mouth with the first drag. \n\n\"Tell me a story Doc, tell me my story.\" \n\n\"I'm sorry?\" \n\n\"Tell me why you think I'm here, now, in this office, with a cheque for you.\" \n\n\"Because you wish to see yourself differently. Because you harbour that most universal human trait, the desire to experience a different life, be a different person, to see what would happen if you took the other path.\" \n\nShe scoffed, \"That predictable huh? You're right about the choices, really you are. Can you guess what my biggest regret is?\" \n\n\"Miss Watkins this really goes beyond my-\" \n\n\"Can you guess, or not.\" Her deep green eyes were locked with his, the smoke from the cigarette curling towards the gently rotating ceiling fan above. \n\n\"I would guess, your marriage.\" \n\nA tear rolled down her cheek, her lips breaking into an uneasy smile. \"Bingo. I do wish to see myself differently doctor, I wish to see myself in a life where I had never said the words 'I do' to that bastard.\" \n\nShe wiped the tear from her cheek, running her finger over the scar that ran from her eye socket to her jaw. The tissue was rough, the wound was old, but it must have been a deep cut. \n\n\"He did this with a letter opener, gold plated, that my father gave it to him as a present. And after he did it he wiped off the blood with his tie, and put it back in the drawer under his writing desk. He didn't say a word to me.\" \n\nDoctor Green toyed with the ring on his finger, \"I'm terribly sorry Miss Watkins, I can't imagine the pain you must have gone through.\" \n\n\"You can,\" she nodded, stubbing the cigarette out in a small metal ashtray, \"You can imagine. You've been imagining all along. I see the ring on your finger, I can see you thinking about whether you'd ever be able to do the same.\" \n\n\"I couldn't.\" \n\n\"That's what everyone thinks until they do it.\" \n\nSilence fell between them, smoke circling languidly by the ceiling, until Miss Watkins reached forward and slid the cheque across the table. \n\n\"You didn't need my story doc, but I want you to know. When you're in there, tinkering with me, what makes me, I want you to know just how much you're saving me by taking away that story. I want you to erase it, and I want you to erase that feeling I get every morning when I wake up and see this,\" she lifted a finger to her cheek. \"Can you do that for me?\" \n\nDoctor Green reached a hand out to the cheque, toying with the paper in his hands. \"Miss Watkins, I do believe I can.\" "
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[WP] 'They said they'd return when the world needed heroes again. They lied.'
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"The first time they came, they saved us all; once the world went back to normal, they left as quickly as they arrived. They said they’d return when the world needed heroes again. We lived with that knowledge, that blind trust, that they would do the same again.\n\nTwenty years later, the day the sky turned red, I waited for them to return like they promised me. The green corn fields set against the red sky looked like a dystopian Christmas card and, in my mind, if there ever a clear signal that the world needed heroes, that was it. \n\nThat’s what heroes did; they saved the day just when you thought all was lost. I dreamed they would arrive and the sky would return to the blue I remembered. They didn’t come - not that day or the next or the next.\n\nThey didn’t come the day the corn fields turned to dust or when the sea swallowed Florida. They didn’t come the day New Zealand and California were decimated by earthquake after earthquake. Or the day the Pyramids returned into the sand beneath them and the Eiffel Tower collapsed from the heat. \n\nThey said they’d return when the world needed heroes again.\n\nThey lied.",
"Sliding back through, eyeing the scenery as all the memories crawled back. Life existed in segments, moments contained tucked away in other worldly seconds, each seemingly separated by a lifetime of agony. Life became hard, the proses and verses preaching an overwhelming victory evaporated from the pages as I read on. A world I did not recognize replaced my scenery with a withering winter. Not knowing what comes next. \n\nYour death a lesson of age, riding by once more as I eye the homestead, despite not living here in years. Each inch of yard harbored a memory, an entire existence wiped away in a seconds notice, yet somewhere left behind in the mist we survive inside the haze. Letting the smoke trail away, I inhale again on my cigarette and roll on. The old neighborhood taking me back, the spring wind bringing back a cold tinged aroma. \n\nUnable to quite examine the feeling, the hopelessness that becomes all consuming, a void consumed by a crashing misery swallowing any semblance of a personality. I speed away the demon takes my wheel, guiding me back down the moonlit streets. Tossing away my cancer I strike up again as I brass check my weapon, ensuring what I already knew. \n\n---\n\nI arrive at your house, while you sleep soundly inside. Tonight my debts forgiven in a blaze, no longer the relic I once was, the icon built to be. Hoping you'd always remember me, hate to arrive uninvited, but even you knew it wasn't over. Living a hero wasn't what it is made to be, the life of a heretic has always called me, tonight I answer. After this I become something else... ",
"A reporter stands in front of an old building, a screaming crowd behind him. He gestures vaguely at the marble steps and columns.\n\n\"This is history in the making, Pat. Whatever happens here today.\"\n\nThe sound of his voice is drowned out by the roar of the crowd as a car drives up and a man, once known as a hero, is led out.\n\nThere are cries of hatred and disgust as the crowd reacts to his presence.\n\nThe reporter continues, doing his best to be heard over the chaos. \"After numerous allegations of sexual misconduct including rape and harrasment, William Borcsy is rumored to be pleading guilty to all charges today. \n\n\"This is not the first hero to be brought to court. We all remember the scandal of Sword Strongarm and the fallout in the hero community that followed it. We have seen heroes become villains before, but this case will quite possibly expose just how prevalent villainous acts are in the hero community, and how so many heroes were complacent in the face of said evil.\"\n\n---\n\n\"What a story, Steve,\" the camera man says as he puts away his equipment. \"Did you ever think this was possible, you know, back in the golden era?\"\n\n\"Back then I would have believed it was some villains evil plan rather than any of this being true.\"\n\n\"Crazy how things change. All right, I'll send the footage in along with the Hannah Dakota goes Wild bit, should make for a good double feature.\"\n\n---\n\n\"As reports of the dead grow in the aftermath of the bombings, we send our thoughts to those affected by this tragedy. While police are hesitant to state a reason for the individuals actions, we must start to question whether Muslim ideals can live alongside Western progressivism.\"\n\nSteve looks at his watch and sighs. The cameras power down and he turns to his aide. \"I'm going to be late for my flight to the Vatican. Make sure you email me those questions and send me everything you can find on that paedophile.\"\n\nHis aide nods and the camera man grabs Steve's arm. \"Hey, you know you're saying some stuff that's pretty problematic. I know it's not my job, but-\"\n\n\"Look, Dave, there's a story here, an exciting and riveting one, and there's another story that's sad and depressing. Which one do you think attracts viewers?\"\n\nDave sighs,\"But shouldn't we just say the truth?\"\n\n\"What's the truth, Dave? We live in a new age, the age of information, and information, by its very nature, is subjective. I can't know everything that happens, I have to hear most of it second hand, just like everyone else. Who's to say how many times the story has changed from point A to point B. The point isn't to tell the truth, the point is to tell a good story.\"\n\n---\n\nDave signals to Steve and the charming man smiles as the cameras start to record.\n\n\"We're here with historian Molly. Molly, America has celebrated Columbus Day for a long time, why only now are truths about his actions calling question to the validity of the holiday?\"\n\n\"Well, Steve it's a complicated answer. To start off with, times change. What was heroic in his day and age are less savory now. In addition, there's this story that is told. Sometimes the story sticks, and sometimes it doesn't. I'd wager that many historical figures have something they've hidden from the rest of the world. Some things eventually come to light, while some never do.\"\n\n---\n\n\"I still think we should be focusing on different things,\" Dave says as he winds up the extension cord.\n\n\"Dave, I don't have time for this. I like you. You're a good camera man, but we're reporters, not saints. Speaking of which-\"\n\n\"I don't want to hear it. Look, I know it's business and all, but what am I supposed to tell my daughter? I mean, when I was a kid we had Lincoln and Ford and all these people to look up to. Who's my daughter supposed to look up to?\"\n\n\"He'll if I know Dave, but what kind of example would I be if I ignored the truth? You wouldn't want that would you?\"\n\nDave sighs, \"It's just so hard, I mean did you hear about that guy on that one show, Green's Hints? How am I supposed to explain that to my daughter? What happened to all the heroes?\"\n\n\"There never were any heroes, Dave. Just humans who thought they could fool the world.\"",
"I simply could not stay away from Earth. Their culture, their food, their women, their fancy tuna was too much to leave behind. That was my reason at least.\n\nHowever after a grandiose speech and celebration after we defeated does pesky Zorgosese, it was my duty to leave in a similar grandiose fashion. The thing is, unlike the uptight asses, who actually left, I took the Houdini approach, made a distraction, blended with the crowd and simply walked toward the horizon. \n\n_____________________\nHi /u/ioriyukii here. I'm quite new to creative writing. \n\n \n\n ",
"It's been almost 3 years now. I never understood why they left. I've been thinking about them, a lot. Almost every day. It has been really tough since then. The world is just darker. I can feel it.\n\nThey said they'll be there when we need them. But I've been calling for them everyday. I never got a response. I guess they're not coming back. I guess... they lied.\n\nMy brother doesn't really understand. He's too young. I don't even know if he remembers them, he was only 2 years old when they left. But I do. They used to be around, they helped a lot. The world seemed to be a better place with them. It never got this dark, there was always someone caring for us. There was always hope.\n\nOf course they weren't perfect. But they were our heroes. Some days they just made it worse, but in the end, we needed them and we loved them. \n\nIt's been really hard for me without them. Going through puberty, struggling with depression and bullies... Stupid nursery school. Suicidal thoughts, mental breakdowns... Ugh... \n\nI didn't have anyone to count on. And yet I had to be brave and strong for my brother. He's busy growing up, making friends and he might not notice, but he sometimes feels their absence too.\n\nI miss them, Yeah I really miss my parents."
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[WP] "You know, this place held a lot more potential when it was empty."
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"Jesse leans against a wall and looks, in a rather odd way, at the room in front of him. He feels... Melancholic, without quite knowing why.\n\n\"You okay?\"\n\nHe shrugs,without turning to look at Oliver. \"I dunno, honestly.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\nThe other man joins him against the wall, a confused frown on his face. His dark hair are up in every direction, and some strands stick to his forehead with sweat. He's been doing the heavy lifting: he never says no to an occasion to show off.\n\n\"Well, we're done. Mostly.\"\n\n\"Tell that to the dozen boxes in the hallway.\"\n\n\"You know what I meant,\" He rolls his eyes and indicate the living room and the furniture they've been moving all day, laying around, waiting for them. His favorite seat has been pushed closer to the -now empty- fireplace, and the cat has already taken over it. \"But, this house, it's a new beginning, right? Start anew, those kind of things?\"\n\n\"I guess, yes.\"\n\n\"Well, I think it had more potential -before. When we first saw it and it was empty and we thought: *that's the one*, you know?\" He lets himself fall to the side, against Oliver's shoulder. \"Now it's just a house. It could have been anything, and it's awesome we decided it would be 'home'! I just... I think I'm scared that's it. That's the highest point, and now we can only go down.\"\n\nIt doesn't make sense when he says it out loud like that, like his words can't explain his feelings, but Oliver understands instantly.\n\n\"Well, I'd hate to move everything again today, but nothing's bolted to the floor.\" He puts his arm around Jesse's shoulders and smiles his special, sparky smile, the one he keeps for Jesse only. \"We can still do anything. It's just the beginning, and all the potential is still there.\"\n\n\"Yeah, guess you're right.\"\n\n\"I usually am,\" He replies cheekily. Then, his stomach rumbles, and he changes subject entirely. \"Who's cooking tonight?\"\n\n\"I have no idea in which box we put the kitchen stuff.\"\n\n\"Told you we should have labeled 'em.\"\n\n\"Shut up or I'm asking for pineapples on the pizza.\" Despite the terrible threat, Jesse is smiling too, and forgets about wasted potential to bicker with Oliver about pizza topping.",
"\"You know,\" I said sadly, \"This place held a lot more potential when it was empty.\"\n\nMy first officer looked out over the hangar deck at the body bags. Crewmates, friends... hundreds of them, all dead. Where once dozens of fighter craft sat, now our dead colleagues littered the floor.\n\n\"It did,\" he replied. \"Much more.\"\n\nWe both stood silently for a few moments, neither of us wanting to face what came next. \n\n\"How many ships left in the fleet?\" he asked quietly.\n\n\"Including us?\" I said, counting the names off in my head... Vancouver, Minsk, Euphrates and of course us... U.S.S. Damocles. \n\n\"Four.\"\n\n\"Will it be enough?\" He asked.\n\n\"It will have to be,\" I said resolutely. \"One of the four of us should be able to survive the suicide run and take that fucking capital ship out. Once that node is gone, the network should collapse and their drones should be disabled. Then humanity might have one last chance to beat this and survive.\"\n\nThe first officer turned to me after a few beats, and offered a sharp salute. \"It's been a privilege to serve under you, sir.\"\n\nI extended my hand, which he took after a moment of surprise. \"The privilege is mine, Commander. I just wish things didn't have to come to this.\"\n\nReleasing his hand, I turned away... hoping he hadn't seen the tears starting to well in my eyes. I took a silent breath and composed myself, pulling the steely mask of command authority back over my face. With a low voice, I spoke.\n\n\"Now, let's signal the others and give these fuckers a rude surprise.\"",
"“You know, this place held a lot more potential when it was empty,” Control noted, looking around at the large, windowless room. Surrounding them were dozens of workers; staring at screens, pressing buttons, typing reports. \n\n“It looks pretty empty now,” Sub pointed out, alluding to the silence that echoed throughout the space.\n\n“Well, I meant literally empty- before the Mems came. When it was just you and me.” \n\n“Mems,” Sub repeated thoughtfully. “You mean your workers, right?” He smiled apologetically. “Sorry, I’m not accustomed to all the office lingo.”\n\nControl smiled back in understanding. “Not that anyone would expect you to be; you’ve been in the basement all your life!” Her smile suddenly disappeared, a frown of concern replacing it. “Which brings us to the question: what are you doing up here? Your being upstairs is usually a sign of bad news.”\n\nSub nodded, knowing the small talk would have to end eventually. “There is a problem,” he began.\n\n“Hold on,” Control interrupted. “I don’t want any vague riddles, like before. The whole business is in jeopardy and if you know anything that can help I want you up here until we can sort it out.”\n\nSub chuckled at Control’s direct attitude, making her raise a curious eyebrow. “You know that’s all I can usually provide,” he reminded her. Regaining his serious expression, he continued. “But this is different from usual. Though I’m sure this is a problem of which I’m sure you are aware.”\n\nControl avoided Sub’s suspicious eyes guiltily. “I know it’s my fault, and I’ve been working on it,” she said defensively.\n\n“This entire enterprise has been failing for a long time, and you know the er… Mems have been the cause,” Sub said. “They’ve done nothing but darken this place, just look around!”\n\nControl watched as the workers mindlessly approached their tasks, seemingly deaf to the not-so-private conversation between her and Sub. They were dreary things, all of them. Went about their daily tasks and no more, adding nothing to the corporation. \n\nSub rested a reassuring hand on Control’s shoulder. “The potential is still there. But we need to start fresh. Let me take them to the basement with me, where they are out of the way.”\n\nControl considered this. The Mems would be gone, she could clean up the place, start with new workers. But no, they wouldn’t be gone would they. They would be in the basement with Sub, coming upstairs every now and again as a reminder of their evil presence. And one day, they’d escape.\n\n“No, they’ll stay up here,” she decided quietly.\n\nSub looked at her incredulously. “You’re just going to keep ignoring this issue?”\n\n“No, I just have a different solution. We keep the old Mems here, but keep them out of the way.”\n\n“Out of the way… of what?”\n\n“The new Mems.”\n\nSub couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “New Mems?? I thought Mems were the problem! You work better alone, without any distractions.”\n\nControl shook her head, feeling good about her plan. “It’s never a good idea to work alone. The new Mems will be chosen by me this time, I will make sure they are bright and lively and work well to make this place function.” She smiled, making Sub realize there was no changing her mind. “Maybe I’ll get some help from another Control, one with insight,” she mused to herself.\n\nSub sighed. He was unsure of how Control’s solution with go, but he trusted her, just as she trusted him. He smiled, realizing she didn’t need him upstairs anymore.\n\n“See you later, Control,” he called as he turned to walk back to the elevator. But she was already at work, and he knew he would be forgotten in the basement again.\n\n\n***\n\n\nSusan King awoke that morning with a fresh feeling. She stepped out of bed and went straight to the window, eagerly opening the shades and allowing light to finally spill into the room. She took a deep breath, newly confident. Today, things were going to change.",
"\"I always wished we’d painted this room blue.”\n\n\"No, no, no — *I* always wanted this room blue. *You* wanted it…” She collected herself. “You were the one who wanted it this color.”\n\n\"Now that’s a goddam lie! From the moment we stepped foot in this home, you talked about having a living room just like this. You even said this exact shade went perfectly with that terrible sofa your great aunt gave us.”\n\n\"I never said such a thing. I wouldn’t have even thought it. The thought would have never crossed my mind. I can’t stand this color. Never could…”\n\n*One beat. Two beats.*\n\n\"Well, you picked it out.”\n\n\"Damnit Michael, really? Why? Why now? Is this some kind of game to you? Does this get you off when you’re by yourself at night or something?”\n\n\"Heather, relax.”\n\n\"Don’t tell me to fucking relax, Michael.”\n\nThey worked together, silently, for the next twenty-five minutes or so until they heard a knock on the door.\n\n\"Lucy? Lucy, sweetie! How are you?” Heather embraced the young girl in her arms, Lucy’s arms lifeless at her sides. \n\nThe girl had just turned eleven years old in March. She was wearing an orange shirt with a white cardigan, blue jeans, and some old tennis shoes handed down from her older sister. \n\n\"How was your time at your friend’s, sweetie? Did you have fun?” Michael asked, hesitantly, not quite certain where she was.\n\nLucy turned her head to look at him, but instead of smiling, she could only just stare. When she looked at her father, all she could see was a memory of something that wasn’t quite there.\n\n\"Well, hunny, how about you head upstairs and get ready for bed? You’ve got school tomorrow.” Heather gave Lucy one more squeeze and Lucy began to make her way toward the stairs.\n\n\"Goodnight, beautiful girl.” Michael said from the top of the ladder, paintbrush in hand. Lucy turned around again, slightly dazed, and gave him a half smile and proceeded to head upstairs. \n\n\n\nThe couple continued to work together, silently, efficiently, as to not further disturb the unsteady silence the home had grown accustomed to over the years.\n\n\"So tell me, why are we painting this room beige now?” Mike was straining to reach the top edge of the wall and growing increasingly frustrated.\n\n\"The realtor said that buyers want a clean slate when purchasing a house now. Something neutral. Something about the psychology of it…”\n\n\"Did he give you anything supporting this claim? A website? A pamphlet?”\n\n\"No, Michael. No he did not. But he’s a realtor and he’s a good one at that. He sold the Dykema’s place in less than a month. I’m sure he knows what he’s talking about. And it’s not like you’re an expert in selling homes anyway.”\n\n\"Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me.”\n\n\"Well, that is something you're an expert in…”\n\n\n\nWithin a few more hours, the two had the entire room painted. Michael went downstairs while Heather finished washing the paint brushes. After setting the brushes aside, she began to reach for her rings, only to remember she hadn’t worn them in months.\n\n\"I think that’s all of my stuff.” Michael said, carrying some boxes up from the basement. “Wow. This room doesn’t look half bad now.”\n\n\"I know, funny what a coat of paint can do, isn’t it?”\n\nThe couple stopped and gazed at the large picture overlooking the sofa. It felt like after all the years of talking, arguing, yelling, apologizing — it felt like they had finally emptied themselves of all the words they had for one another.\n\n\"Heather.”\n\n\"What is it, Michael?”\n\n\"You know, this place held a lot more potential when it was empty.”\n\n\"Yeah, but at least we tried.”",
"“Congrats, guys,” the man says, sitting in a wooden chair with red cushions, forearms resting on the walnut tabletop. “You’re the proud owners of 2392 Byron Way.” \n\n\nThree of the four men smile and one stands up to extend a hand to the man holding the mountains of paperwork they’d just filled out. The man with his too red cheeks and combed over pale-blonde, nearly white, hair. After the handshake ends and an almost equally large file full of documents is traded to the still standing man, the other three rise as well and, one by one, shake hands with the realtor. \n\n\n“Well, do we start investing in shelves? Books?” Brandon asks once they are safely outside of the plain building, away from the man with his paid for fake smile.\n\n\n“Yeah, about that, man,” Andrew, the commander of deals and initiator of fine business handshakes, starts. His confidence is unflinching and his expression apologetic. “Look, people don’t need books like they used to. We have the internet, dude. The fucking internet.” His tone strains to accent this word. Internet. Like it’s the most important thing he has ever said in his life, smile wide on his thin lips as he shows just the caps of his perfect white teeth. “The internet and e-books and whatever, there’s no real profit to be made in charity.” \n\n\nMeanwhile, the other two men, both just wasting away in the adrenalin rush of having spent all of their savings on the advice of their charismatic college buddy, the kind of guy who’d never lead you wrong, they just watch. They watch like they’re not really listening. Their wives are home wondering anxiously whether they’ve made a mistake in agreeing but those men were just so convincing when Andrew held their strings. They knew what to say and how to say it, as long as he wrote the script and played it out first.\n\n\n“What?” Brandon asks, eyes reaching the widest they’d been since Andrew started speaking. \n\n\n“You own one-fifth of this property and one-fifth of its interests. You can cash out if you want, but it’d be a loss,” he replies casually, cocking his head and giving a half-hearted crooked smile. The kind you give to a child trying to tie their shoes for the first time, knot slipping through over and over until they ask you for help. “The location, it’s fucking spot on perfect for a, like, one of those hipster coffee joints. The ones that serve some breakfast but nothing without a fucking frilly garnish thing.”\n\n\n“A breakfast place?” Brandon questions.\n\n\nWhen they first saw the property with its wooden beam interior and high ceilings Brandon saw his dreams coming true. He built bookshelves in his mind that lined the old walls and an exclusive section on the smaller second floor where children who loved fantasy stories the way he had could climb the iron spiral staircase and indulge. Indulge in a world better than the one outside of the walls. A library meant to serve primarily the youth in their suffering community. \n\n\n“Well, they can serve lunch,” Dean states, nodding his head with pride as his dark eyes glue themselves to Andrew in wait of approval. \n\n\n“Dude, lunch. Fuck yeah,” Keith agrees, also watching their fearless leader. \n\n\n“Whatever, just…” Brandon sighs, running a hand against his dark kinky hair. “Just let me know how it all goes.” \n\n\nAndrew shrugs and gives a single huff of a laugh before mimicking the action, palming over his buzzed hair. “Your loss, gonna miss out on the best fucking part. But whatever you say.”\n\n\nIt takes six months of time and more monetary investment than the other two men had ever dreamed, but the restaurant opens. Brandon doesn't attend any of the meetings, he doesn't help pick the Edison bulbs or the split wood tables, he doesn't give input on the plank dividers that separate the main eating area from the coffee lounge. The coffee lounge which he had imagined, in his library fantasy, would host old sofas with plush velvet cushions and dark wooden lions feet legs meant for people to come and enjoy books without having to leave the building. Even the little upstairs nook had been bastardized and turned into a land of machines; not a fantasy world but a place for people to send emails and stalk their closest friends. \n\n\nWhen he does show up, the space is bustling with young adults scooping away at piles of rosemary potatoes and eggs with cilantro garnish all switching between conversation and seconds long pauses to include the digital world in their dining experience. By the time he walks through the door, the little restaurant has already made him enough money to deem it a worthwhile investment. \n\n\n“Dude, I fucking told you,” Andrew brags, hands stuffed into his pockets with that same cocky smile on his lips.\n\n\nSkeptically glancing to each wall, mentally redecorating to his initial desires, Brandon shrugs and offers nothing more than a pathetic attempt at a half-smile and says, “You know, this place held a lot more potential when it was empty.” \n\n\nThen he walks out."
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You try desperately to survive, having only the resources and capabilities of the ISS and your crew.
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[WP] You are halfway through your four month mission on the International Space Station when suddenly, a meteorite the size of the moon collides with earth, destroying all life known to man, except for you and your fellow astronauts.
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[
"It was the numbness - the numbness which permeated the totality of my cells as I surrendered my focus to the symphonic destruction of the Earth. I didn't feel the empty version of numbness, though; no - that connotation was baseless here. My sensation of numbness didn't exist within a vacuum of feeling or a void of emotion. Rather, it existed as a bulwark against emotion - as a fortified, repressive barrier against the inevitable onslaught of the entire emotional spectrum: the full intensity of anything one could ever feel, all at once.\n\nAs a result, I didn't feel these specific emotions enveloping me; unlike how, just a moment prior, I had watched the Earth become instantly enveloped in flames and desolation. I could, however, feel the *force* with which my brain thrust these feelings upon me, and that was debilitating enough to render me, along with other ISS crew, unconscious for several hours. \n\nAt first, I thought that those of us who succumbed to the fainting were the lucky ones. As I arose, I experienced a painful delirium, followed by the now-familiar numbness, that was in stark contrast to the mental states of the crew who remained conscious during the immediate aftermath of the meteoric impact. These people were *no longer humans*. My concept of humanity could not logically support the creatures I was witnessing. These animals were rabid - foaming at the mouth; aggressively meandering around in circles with clenched fists and bleeding gums; violently wheezing while staring at what used to be their home; sprinting aimlessly amidst their mindless shrieks of horror. \n\nIt seemed as if every one of these individuals was so volatile that they would inevitably end up becoming violent with others. This, I found out, was not the case. It is true that they were no longer human, but some traces of humanity did whisper just loudly enough to communicate the most fundamental instinct: protect and preserve the species. This instinct for these individuals, however, now existed more as a granted final wish of the person in them who died as the Earth disintegrated, rather than a consistently-projected message emanating from any kind of sanity. The rationality in these people was now so absent, that it was seemingly never there. Not even my lurid memories of them could help me believe that they were ever sentient. Although troubling, they remained a non-issue at the time. It wasn't until days later, when they began to grow hungry and thievish, that they posed a problem. Understanding their feverish docility, I began to search for more crew members with mental states similar to mine. \n\nMany of my fellow space dwellers were still unconscious and some had died, most likely from cardiac arrest. I wasn't phased by their deaths, just like I'm not phased about spending 5 extra dollars when I'm already spending hundreds. I remained focused on finding other cognizant crew members. I found several as I explored the station - many of them experiencing the same confused, palpable numbness which characterized my absurdly resilient sanity. We didn't use words with one another, but our eyes communicated the clearest understanding ever shared among people. We surveyed our surroundings: an in-tact space station (apart from the messes generated by the catatonic and the mentally disenfranchised), supplies to last the current population another year, and *other humans.*\n\nIn these observations, we found comfort. Like our irreparably manic counterparts, our instinct to survive trouped onward. Right away, we forged an implicit bond and commitment with one other to endure survival for as long as possible. Some of the more romantic types even entertained the idea of proliferating in order to ensure the indefinite survival of our species, which was strangely amusing to me, because I wasn't as naive. I knew that we were doomed. I just wasn't quite sure, at the time, how we would spend its remainder. \n\n\nFAST FORWARD TO THE END: the narrator manipulates everybody; ultimately feeding on all their corpses in order to prolong his survival. He dies alone years later.\n\nThis was my first attempt at writing fiction. Sorry to be a dick and just not even finish the story, but I didn't have time to finish in one sitting and I've been doubting myself since. Thoughts? ",
"\"Well, that was really lucky,\" why the heck am I talking, I shouldn't be speaking at a time like this.\n\nThe impossible had just happened, a second moon entered Earth's orbit.\n\n\"Yes, but why is the other moon flying away!\"\n\n\"Do I really need to explain the three body problem to you now?\" Must be autopilot, why else would I be talking?\n\n\"You're suggesting such a thing, now?\"\n\n\"Wait, what do you... Never mind.\" I really hate Chad, why couldn't he have been in the group to work on the satellite, and not Dave?\n\n\"We've got bigger problems right now,\" Shanna called from the other side of the station. \n\n\"What, did the other object gloriously crash into the Earth, causing seismic waves so intense, the crust is slowly upturning leaving an Earth covered in lava in its wake?\" You know what would be good right about now, silence. \"Now I don't know about the two of you, but I'd rather go out plastered.\"\n\n\"What are you...\" Chad's a little slow on the uptake, fortunately Shanna took care of it for me.\n\n\"An object that massive, that close to Earth, would destabilize our orbit as well as doing everything Mark said.\"\n\nChad looked dumbfounded for a moment, how does a guy like him even get this gig. \"So about the three body problem?\"\n\n\"Bugger off!\"",
"We never saw it. The object struck Earth on the far side from us. We were on the nightward side, over Asia. The first thing to happen was that Earth went dark. The lights all went out at once across India. Sergei and I were in the Zvezda Module, so we saw that.\n\nThe next thing to happen was us going dark, too, about thirty seconds later. We figured later that the impact must have sent and EM pulse across Earth, and it caught us too. The familiar humming of the lights, the equipment, the ventilation systems, all gone. Only the groans of the metal accompanied the sound of our own breathing. Sergei and I were in the dark except for the little bit of light that came through the windows.\n\nWe ran into Arnaut on our way to the Zarya Command Module. Literally. Not even the flashlights were working, so we were blundering around in darkness, relying on memory to guide us. Holding his nose while I massaged my sore jaw, we drifted through a small cloud of blood as Arnaut told us that comms were down with Houston and Korolyov, and that he couldn't get the power back on. He went on to the Zvezda module while Sergei and I tried to restore power.\n\nThe ISS orbited at 17,200 miles per hour, making a complete circuit of the Earth every 92.65 minutes. Approximately eleven minutes and ten seconds after Earth went dark, we heard Arnaut shouting for us to come look at something. We groped our way back to the Zvezda to see what he was talking about, and saw Hell. A band of light on the horizon, not like the warmth of a sunrise, but angry red, and moving very fast. As we watched, the debris came into view, silhouetted against the false dawn.\n\nThe EMP was fast on Earth, but once free of the atmosphere, it became almost instantaneous. Without power to fire thrusters, satellites fell into decaying orbits around us. Without our instruments, we couldn't tell yet, but we were in one too. And all those decaying orbits led to collision courses. Sergei suddenly yelled, pointing at something. Arnaut and I weren't fast enough to see it, but we all felt the impact. Something tore through the forward solar panels, shredding them and sending us into a spin. We tumbled about like popcorn, suddenly thrown back into a situation with gravity.\n\nBy the time we stopped bouncing around, we were starting to hit the thicker parts of the atmosphere. The shockwave wasn't the only thing glowing anymore, as the remaining solar panel arrays heated up. As we stared in stupefied horror, we entered the debris field. Whatever had struck the Earth had thrown bits of itself and its target screaming into the atmosphere. You might have thought that it would sound like rain at first, but we were moving much too fast for that. Force equals Mass times Acceleration, F=MA, and even low-mass things like dust grains hit hard when they move fast enough.\n\nThe ISS began to disintegrate almost immediately, spinning through the shards of Earth. Something punched clean through the Zvezda, and through Sergei, without even slowing down. In retrospect that was probably for the best. The module decompressed, tearing apart as all the oxygen in the station blasting its way out through the pinball-sized holes left on either side by whatever had gotten Sergei. Arnaut and I tumbled away from each other, debris shredding us to ribbons before we could react.\n\nOur remains were pulverized beyond recognition as organic matter as we moved further into the debris field. Soon the ISS was nothing more than dust hurtling through the tortured bits of Earth thrown up by the impact. What was left of it, and us, caught fire long before hitting the tsunami of molten rock blasted out of the mantle, and what bits survived the initial heat - the buckle on Sergei's watch, a grommet from one of the EVA suits, the needle from one of the pressure gauges - joined the wave in its destructive journey across Earth, becoming instruments of the annihilation of life as we knew it.\n\nPieces from the collision were shot into the Solar System. Some burned up in Venus' atmosphere, some in Jupiter or Saturn. A good number caught the Sun. A handful made it out of the Solar System entirely, spinning through the void of space for millions and billions of years before striking something. One, about the size of a baseball, made a slow journey down the spiral arm. The gravitational pull of a class K3V star caught it, dragging it into a spiral like those coin funnels they used to have in shopping malls. It spun towards the star, almost making it before a planet got in its way. Most of the fragment burned off in the CO2-heavy atmosphere of the planet, but a piece roughly comparable to a golf ball splashed down in the shallow, mineral-rich seas. It was still hot enough to send up a little trail of steam that, just for a moment, created a tiny rainbow over the rippling waters of the young world.",
"*Day 2*\n\n\"Houston? Houston, are you there?\"\n\nIt was lost hope now.\n\n\"Houston?\"\n\n\"Charlie, get off the mic. We saw what we saw. They're dead. They're all dead.\"\n\n\"Damn you Tyler, someone has to be down there. Someone has to be-\", Charlie rambled until Tyler set his hand down on his shoulder. Charlie hasn't slept since the accident earlier. His eyes were bloodshot and his hands were shaking. He couldn't even blink without fear of pain.\n\n\"We're the only ones left. Me and you. If there was someone down there, they would've contacted us by now.\", Tyler spoke, his voice cracking in the middle. Charlie put his hands to his face and cried. It was the first time he's cried in awhile.\n\n\"Why... why leave us... Martha, Sam, Parker.... oh god, my family's down there.... momma... oh momma, where are you....\"\n\n***\n\n*Day 7*\n\nTyler and Charlie ate in any part of the ship they wanted with the remains of their rations. They were starving for something new, but that would be impossible now. All they had was the frozen shit. Tyler began biting down on his food when Charlie tapped him on the shoulder.\n\n\"What's our plans when the rations run out?\"\n\n\"We'll get there when we get there, Charlie\", Tyler responded in an annoyed tone. Charlie had been bugging him about his worries for days, and it was getting on his nerves. He worried too, but he'd rather enjoy his time now instead of getting panicked.\n\n***\n\n*Day 14*\n\n\"CHARLIE! STOP HUMMING DAMN IT, I CAN'T SLEEP!\", Tyler yelled from his bunk. The humming noise stopped, and all was silent again. He was getting annoyed everyday he was stuck here. Charlie was getting on his nerves so much now. God, he just wanted some peace and quiet.\n\nPeace and quiet...\n\n***\n\n*Day 19*\n\nThe muffled noises were much better then the humming. Tyler had taped Charlie's mouth shut and tied him to his bunk. He was almost like a pet now. He could make him do anything he wanted now. If he needed noise, he'd rip the tape off and make Charlie sing. If he wanted silence, he'd tape his mouth shut and sometimes forget to take it off by morning. If he wanted pleasure, he'd force Charlie to the wall. Tyler was never about that lifestyle, but being stuck in a ship with no one else and magazines, your mind had to do something. He heard Charlie moan and cry every night when he slept. Tyler wondered if he was getting sick.\n\n***\n\n*Day 26*\n\nCharlie was getting worse. He wouldn't even speak anymore when Tyler tore the tape off. He was just silent. Tyler would hit and scream at Charlie, but he just laid there quietly. This began annoying Tyler, but he tried living with it. After all, he still got his silence and his pleasure. That was a good thing.\n\n***\n\n*Day 33*\n\nOh god, he needed noise again.\n\n\"Charlie... Charlie, speak.\"\n\nCharlie did not speak.\n\n\"....Damn it Charlie, speak.\"\n\nAgain, no noise came from his mouth. Tyler got aggressive.\n\n\"Charlie!\"\n\nNothing.\n\n\"CHARLIE!\"\n\nNothing again. Tyler felt like he was going mad. Hopefully he'd feel fine by morning.\n\n***\n\n*Day 38*\n\nCharlie wasn't breathing. He was dead, god know how long. He must've died in his sleep. Tyler was all alone now.\n\n***\n\n*Day 44*\n\nHelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelpHelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelpHelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelpHelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelpHelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelpHelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelphelpHELPHELP\n\n***\n\n*Day 49*\n\nTyler was dead by a knife wound to his forearms. The ship was silent now, except for the humming noise of the electronics."
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[WP] You are an Evil Genius with an awesome island volcano lair, rising sea levels are beginning to get problematic.
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[
"The submarine is now permanently below the sea, and my ground floor is starting to grow algae. I have to turn to the oil companies. But not nicely. Not by another letter. This time, by force. So i got in my heli, and left for the harbour. I was given the message to leave, and that police was underway. Not that that matters, i don't plan on staying here long. So i landed, and got my bombs. I planted one on each oil storage unit. All on the side of the land of course, i don't want another oil spill. I took off, with the police just entering through the gates. When i was high enough, i made the announcement that i planted bombs on the ships, so people would leave, but not know where my bombs are. Then, i pressed the button. 6.66 seconds to explosion. I always had a thing for tiny ironic things. 6.66 seconds later, they exploded. No more oil for the upcoming 2 months at least. Maybe now they'll understand not everyone is like greenpeace. Until then, i think i'm going to take a holiday. To hawaii or japan...",
"Of all the foes I have ever faced... frankly I never expected Global Warming to be the most irritating. All my beautiful doomsday machines... ruined by invading seawater. Not to mention genetic pollution between by genetically modified radioactive murder-sharks and invading normal sharks. It'll be at least three generations before I can breed the nice out of them again. And the cancer.\n\nSo naturally... I needed revenge. Revenge on the ocean was... pretty hollow actually. Theres no satisfaction when they can't plead for mercy. I did consider going after those Saudi oil barons... but I think too many people would consider that heroic or some nonsense. Even if I did transmute them all into goats.\n\nSo... I had to be... creative.\n\nIt takes considerably less effort than one may think to set up an orbital Ice-laser. That dealt with the immediate problem by freezing large sections of ice, blocking common trade routes and most importantly, lowering ocean levels enough for me to reach the kitchen again. Then the real work began. I froze car manufacturers worldwide as a distraction, while my nanobots burrowed their way into the oil well and deposits globally, transferring all liquid fossil fuels to me. Then they went about compressing the coal stores to diamonds.\n\nThere was chaos. The price of oil and power skyrocketed, and Diamonds became worthless. I crashed the global economy, again, reclaimed my lair, and got my revenge on the ocean all without being labelled a do-gooder.\n\nAll in all... a very productive Thursday."
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[WP] You have the ability to go up to 5 seconds back in time, which has allowed you to say and do anything you want without fear. However, this one time, you realize your power isn't working anymore.
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[
"5 seconds had never been enough to rob a bank or steal a car - you know, \"the fun stuff\". But I'd found my ways around that throughout life. Sometimes I'd buy a movie ticket and then jump back just enough to have the transaction never occur and the money remain in my account with the ticket still in my hand. Sometimes I'd try to sneak around a checkpoint to get into a concert and when it didn't work I'd just rewind and try a different way. 5 seconds wasn't a whole lot for anyone - but with enough willpower and creativity - you find a way.\n\nUntil you don't.\n\nI don't know if my first clue was the screaming woman with a bloodied knee on the sidewalk, the smoking car with its alarm going off behind me, smashed against the light-pole on the other side of the intersection, or the guy who had somehow caught up with me and had the gun pointed to my head.\n\n*C'mon c'mon c'mon!* I screamed in my head, trying to activate\n\nFunny how much stuff can happen in five seconds, the entire scene around me did. Now I've got 2 seconds to go back and make it never happen - but somethings not right.\n\n\"Yea, ya little powa ain't workin for ya no more is it\" the man with the gun rhetorically asked\n\nMy 2 seconds passed.\n\nIt was the first time I actually paid attention to what was around me. Anytime something went wrong, anytime I tripped down the stairs, slid on some ice, was getting ready to spill my coffee, had a bag of groceries rip, had my toothpaste fall off my toothbrush, I'd just go back. I never had to pay attention to the negative aspects of life around me because, well, they didn't actually happen to me. And if they attempted to happen to me I just went back and rectified the situation.\n\n\"We've got your kryptonite\" gun-mans partner said as he slowed his pace from running and jogged up to his weapon-wielding friend\n\nGuess I should explain.\n\nOk. So I thought it'd be cool to rip off these guys. I had found an empty warehouse where loan sharks conducted there entrepreneurship-like expertise to 'help' those in need. Needless to say, they had they're own type of security but no vaults. I figure - find a way in like a concert - try try again until the weakness is found. But somehow, someone noticed. Every time I tried to sneak around the warehouse, looking for ways in, I'd get caught - rewind - and try again. I don't know how or why but at some point someone said 'again', and that was something I *never* heard. Nobody said 'again' around me! But they did, they said it\n\n\"There he is *again*!\" the scene replayed in my head as I recalled getting caught just ten minutes before and trying to rewind\n\nI was in the warehouse, close to the pile of cash, and undetected till that moment. Then \"again\" was shouted and I couldn't go back. I kept trying to rewind and I couldn't. Over and over I tried to replay what went wrong.\n\n\"Let's go, your coming with us skipper\" said the guy without a gun\n\n*Skipper?* I thought *I'm not a boat captain and this isn't Gilligan's Island...skipper?* it fell into my memory bag along with the other perplexing word of my day - \"again\"\n\nI walked past the screaming woman on the sidewalk, dumbfounded with a feeling of disconnect from reality. Sirens in the distance began to close in on the intersection of the crash I had just caused. If these guys hadn't been chasing me I wouldn't have pushed that woman or stepped out in the street too soon!\n\n*If you didn't try to rob them you wouldn't be in a situation like this at all!* I screamed to myself\n________________________________________________________________________________\n\nWe pulled up to the warehouse. The ride over had been silent with the exception of Goon 2 - gunless goon - making a phone call confirming that \"They caught the skipper\"\n\n*Maybe I'm famous, maybe people caught onto to what I was doing and nicknamed me the skipper. I would've picked a better name but hey, that's not the worst* I thought to myself *Who am I kidding, these idiots don't know, no-one does, and I'm probably going to die looking like an ordinary thief to a gang of mobsters. But they said it - \"We've got your kryptonite\"...what the hell is going on?*\n\nI looked at my reflection in the car window as we waited for god-knows-what. The dark tint on the interior of the limo's window almost make it look like I was staring into a black void with my face looking back at me from another dimension. I tried to activate again - not much that 5 seconds could do in my predicament but I didn't know why the hell I couldn't. I watched as my brown eyes shifted and swirled into light blue as they always did when I pushed time.\n\n*What the fuck! My body wants to, I want to, why isn't it working?*\n\nJust then my reflection stretched and disappeared as the door opened and a man grabbed me by the arm. We walked into the warehouse, passed the armed guards I had been sneaking around for weeks. Through the back door into what looked like an office-library. He pushed me into a chair\n\n\"Wait here\" he said as he shut the door\n\nI looked around in the room, not expecting something so fancy inside such a dingy, off-the-path, rundown building. The dark green walls were lined with bookshelves and statues. The chair I had expected to be sitting in was one of the metal ones that you see in movies where they strap the guy down and start beating him. Instead, I was sitting in a comfy lounge chair, lighter green than the walls, with my feet on a Turkish rug, and facing a mahogany desk with a laptop and a small cup of pens.\n\nThen I saw something interesting.\n\nBehind the desk, passed the dark brown chair, was a wide bookshelf that extended up to the ten-ish foot ceiling. It was lined with clocks and tiny little vile's filled with a blue liquid. On the shelves above them were pictures, pictures of what looked like ancient ruins and animals I had only seen in history books.\n\nThe door opened.\n\nA man, slender and tall with a smile on his face walked in. He sat down and reached in his desk\n\n*It's a fucking gun, I'm dead* I thought\n\nHe pulled out a pure white cigarette box and took a cigarette out. He lit it and sat back, smiling at me. He wasn't a bad looking guy, maybe mid 30's with an athletic figure and good bone structure. But something about his hazel eyes sent a feeling of dread through my body.\n\n\"It's time to stop\" he spoke\n\n\"Stop what\" I replied, trying to sound as cool and collective as possible\n\n\"Stop skipping through time my young friend\"\n\nThen his eyes turned blue."
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[WP] The human race has gone extinct. A scout ship from a neighboring solar system lands on Earth, only to find hundreds of millions of time capsules buried every 5 feet in a grid pattern covering all land on earth.
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"\"What's here?\" Yir asked\n\nThe ship lurched in a reared back angle as it took on more heat from the entry. The sensors were blinking as they always did, all systems reported nominal activity. Wayko leaned over his controls and abscent mindedly tapped a console for more information. As he relaxed back into his command chair he read the small scrolling screen with only a fraction of the focus he devoted into landing.\n\n\"The Galapedia says there was a dominant species of mammals here called _\"human\"_. Looks like they took a few hundred Arcs off planet about nine centuries ago.\"\n\nYir turned her attention back to the window, watching the heat and flame whip past the view-port. The Kestral fell through the atmosphere with an almost boring ease and she cast a glance over to the external thermo reads.\n\n**ATMO: Minimal**\n\nShe thought for a moment about the hundreds of derelict planets that floated through aimless space before asking out loud, \"Does it say why they abandoned the planet?\"\n\nThe ship nosed down, free of the heated drag of falling through a haze of ozone. The boosters took the vector that Wayko aimed for as he guided the ship towards a blinking dot on his head up display. His hand reached out again to tap the screen, his voice just as bored as ever.\n\n\"Says the weather became unstable from sudden destructive atmospheric changes,\" he paused and then leaned to the screen again, giving out a curious chirp. \"Some folks think it was nuclear war. Some are saying industrial effort.\"\n\nThe clouds outside had a light yellow hue to them, fluffy and wide across a pale blue sky. Light poured through the windows and Yir pulled down the internal shader to keep the golden rays from heating up her gray flesh.\n\n\"We should don pro-tech for this, sis.\" Wayko never took many chances on these exploratory scavenging runs. But, traveling to long abandoned, far flung sectors was probably risky enough, in Yir's mind.\n\nFog around the landing point was heavy, natural visibility could barely see beyond fifty meters. The ship crept heavily down to firm soil before ejecting out landing gear and crunching onto the ancient Earth. For a moment the whole craft rocked and settled. Wayko leaned over his console to look out the windows.\n\n\"That's different...\" His voice trailed off and Yir strode up to peer over his shoulder. Their eyes scanned down over the dirt just before the nose of the ship. Thin rods of aged metal stood upright in neat formations. As their faces lifted toward the horizon the array extended in all directions into the fog. Some were knocked over, here and there, but the vast majority of the objects stood stoic against the ravages of time and nature.\n\n\"Have you ever seen anything like that?\" Yir sounded bewitched, the uniformity of each placed rod was _perfect_.\n\nA single flash emitted from the rod directly in front of them. Then another off to its side. Then more. Then all of them. In all directions, fields of lights twinkled like so many stars in the galaxy.\n\nA small alarm tuned in on the console and Wayko's attention was torn from the show happening all around them. He felt his heart race as he read the sensors.\n\n\"Something's coming.\" ",
"The scout ship entered the SR47 system and detected signs of life on one of the planets. \nOur on-board scientists have taken the required measurements and have determined the planet is suitable for ourselves as well, we could only conclude the inhabiting species is similar to us, but alas, the equipment on the ship could not determine where they are. We suspected they live underground. As we approach the planet our sensors detected a pattern on the surface so we scanned revealing a weak life signal. Scattered all around the globe. We decided to further investigate. \nUpon arrival within the planets ozone layer we have detected one sign of life unlike the others. This one was stronger. This one was moving. We traveled to the origin to discover a native of the world we were visiting. \nHe did not fear our arrival, he hardly even react when we scanned his brain to extract their language patterns. \nI personality asked the creature what happened to his world. He answered 'nothing'. \nI asked what happened to the rest of his species. He answered 'they are underground, in capsules'. \nMost curious about the creature I asked it if he is the leader of this planet. He answered 'no, I am only the best salesman on earth, for all that's worth now'. \nI asked what he's done to bare such title. He answered 'I convinced the entire planet the world was at it's end and the only way to escape is buying my pod. I did not think this through.' \nWe have left the planet and the system and marked it red for there was no intelligent life on it. "
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[WP] Make us feel how short life is...
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"In the grand scheme of things we are less than a blink. I don't mean you or I. I mean humanity as a whole. Our sun and the planets around it are but a flash in the lifespan of the universe. \nIf one were to watch the entirety of existence from the Initial expansion to the final spark of time as if it were a single day, Humanity would be a second long blip during lunchtime. \nTake that blip and stretch it to a day. Humanity's span over 24 hours, from descending from the trees to our final breath. No single life would even be visible on metaphorical TV on which you're somehow watching this. \n100 years. A pretty good innings by any reckoning. It's an age any of us would be lucky to reach. We spend the first fifth getting used to it all. The next 40-50 years working to afford to survive. Each day spent the same just so we can eat and live. All those years of effort so we can have a relaxing final few. \nWe constantly strive for the next milestone or the next goal. Looking forward to Birthdays, New Jobs, Holidays, Children and so on. Rarely stopping to admire and appreciate what is around us now. I personally am only a quarter of the way to the big 100. Yet I feel like I've barely been here. If I reach that age and the other quarters go as fast. I've been in the box before I know it. We waste our precious time quibbling over unimportant details. For example, you've just spent a couple minutes reading this that you wont ever get back. You'll probably spend a minute more looking for the obvious spelling mistake I put in two or three lines ago. \nOr you'll read onto this lines right away and learn that there wasn't an intentional mistake. More time wasted. \nLife is short. Make sure you live it. "
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[WP] You're on Reddit writing out a writing prompt, but suddenly it starts coming to life around you...
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"You are sitting in your tiny flat, listening to Deutsche Welle but try not to care too much about the needless chitchat before the clock turns 18:00. That is the moment, they are legally allowed to show projections about the election. Elections used to be a moment of hope, now they are mostly a moment of anxiety. The candidates you support never make it past the 5% hurdle or 3 direct mandates for representation. Instead... let's just say that Merkel looked better without grey hair 3 or 4 elections ago. You distract yourself with some mindless redditting. Some memes from /r/linuxmemes which you upvote for no real reason but GLORIOUS GENTOO, some hopefully fake stories in the default subs, some inanity in some subs you should have unsubscribed a while ago, some delicious pictures in /r/sushi. Oh, a Writing prompt? About the German election? Nice! After all the yankistanis had spammed their prompts about their countries, that was a breath of fresh air. You open your text editor of choice and fate and start typing. The prompt just asks for a funny and unexpected result. You have an idea. You start writing. The usual tropes are coming easily enough: ARD reporters, *Spitzenkandidaten* (top candidates) in suits, expecting a victory. Smugness. Grins. Just as it sounds right now on Deutsche Welle. Then, 18:00 and the first projection (of course, you go for the cheap laughs when using the calque High-Calculation which German uses for projection), black bars, red bars, green bars, yellow bars, dark red bars, orange bars, blue bars, Except that none of the bars move too high. Except that none of them move as gracefully and majestically as they normally do, instead, they hop a tiny bit. All, except the one whose job it normally is to awkwardly hop: Others. 67.8% of the voters chose to give their *Zweitstimme* (second vote) that was not one of those that were expected to win. The news caster dumbfounded, actually stuttering, \"At this point that would leave the Bundestag empty, wouldn't it?\" the male newscaster asked. The female colleague corrected him: \"There have been cases where a party got the status of a faction in the Bundestag based on getting three Direktmandate (direct mandates) from the Erststimmes (first votes). The PDS in 1994.\" - The man looked at her as if he was completely unaware that she was hired for anything else but her *assets*. You smile as you write this casually sexist but ultimately bumbling person.\n\nYou enjoy writing this, enough that you completely forgot about deutsche Welle, completely forgot that there was an actual election happening, or, heck, another world outside. Then, as if it was make to destroy flow states, the phone rings. You check the number: Mum. *Ain't gonna get around this call!* you think as you accept it. \"Hi Mum!\" you try to sound cheerier than you feel about the interruption when writing.You sigh, this is going to be one of these calls: one of the calls where she has read about some kind of tragedy 5 countries away and now thinks that you are in mortal peril. \"What have you read now?\"\n\n\"The election‽ Have you not read that Germany will fall into anarchy!\" Mom shouted.\n\n\"Hmm?\" you ask with the complete opposite of eloquence out of confusion.\n\n\"No party has been able to get over the 5% hurdle! Not even E4!\" she shouts but still manages to fire a barb against your own political allegiance with a tiny party.\n\n\"Seriously? Like, in actual reality? You are not joking about this?\" you ask.\n\n\"You don't know me since yesterday, of course I am serious about this. 4.9% is the highest percentage. For the freaking *greens*! What kind of world are we living in if the Greens get more votes than the *Christdemokraten*? And neither beats the 5% hurdle!\" she shouted.\n\n\"Ah, but in the end, it will depend on who wins the most Wahlbezirke to gain faction status in the Bundestag. So the CDU could still win.\" you find yourself repeating things your characters could have said.\n\n\"Hmm, you're right! There is still a chance most of the seats can go to the CDU.\" she suddenly seems rather calm.\n\n\"Sure, I think that is called incumbent bias,\" you suggest, without mentioning that this could work for the Greens just as well. \n\n\"I guess, yeah. Thanks for listening to your old mother rant about these things.\" She paused. \"I think I am going to see how many *Direktmandate* (direct mandates) the CDU gets. I will call later in the day, okay?\"\n\n\"Yeah, sure! I'll need to watch more as well. Take care!\" you close the call.\n\nYou try to return to writing. She had been distracting and destroyed your flow. Slowly, you write about the results from the distrcts coming in one after another, this time with far worse graphics, clearly improvised. A first district, in Stuttgart falling to the Greens, a district in Berlin goes to the Linke, so does another one in Chemnitz. You grin as you imagine how you mother must feel about this. Suddenly, you grin with an evil plan. You start writing how many districts fall to the various candidates but don't mention the CDU gaining a single one. Then, you mention the district she lives in having a close race, close enough to possibly warrant a run-off. The candidates of E4 and the CDU being close to each other, separated by only a single digit amount of votes. And then going to the E4 with one vote difference. If this happened in real life, Mum would blame him personally for changing allegiances. You avoid mentioning the name, because just to annoy your mother and hopefully stop her political rants, you became a candidate in this district and self-insertion in such a story would just lead to doxxing. In this regard, you are still old-fashioned.\n\nAfter some writing, you decide to eat something. You check the fridge and it is as empty as your stomach. You let out a sigh. It's Sunday, of course, but the local kebab shop is still open. You save your posting, (ending with a very unsatisfying (TBC) for now), and ride your bike downhill to the local source of delicious döner. Some of your coworkers are there, including Lukas, a fellow trainee, which whom you have an uneasy truce at work but whom you cannot stand and he cannot stand you either. They seem to be watching the TV that normally shows some inane programming in Turkish, Arabic or some other language, but right now is set to ARD for the election coverage. You never assumed Lukas to be the political type, who'd watch the coverage over a döner kebab, but alas, he was. You consider going somewhere else, but he waves at you. \"Hey, come on in! We are watching the mudfight!\"\n\n\"Hi Lukas? What mudfight?\" you ask wearily.\n\n\"Wait? You did not run for office to annoy our former headmaster?\" he asks in confusion.\n\nYou can only shake your head. \"I didn't even know that he was running. I mean, I knew the CDU candidate is called Frank Müller, but there are so many of these that I never assumed it was him.\" you weakly state.\n\n\"So, it was wrong that I sent out mails to everyone in the 11th and 12th class as well as everyone I knew who went to school there to go out and vote for you because you are the anti-candidate to him and to put their vote behind the E4 for no other reason than spite?\" Lukas raises his eyebrows.\n\nYou are shocked: \"You did that for me‽ Thanks!\"\n\n\"Not so much for you as against Müller and, well, I thought if you are in Berlin, I'd no longer have to see you around the company for the next 4 years!\" he giggles.\n\n\"And here I thought you were a true European from Europe for the Europeanization of Europe!\" you reply.\n\n\"Me? Nah! I am just a guy who is fed up with them all. Berlin, Brussels, Ankara, Washington, Gaborone! All bastards! Present company not included.\" he ranted.\n\nYou decide to change the topic: \"Any results just yet?\"\n\n\"Too close to call yet! You got about 15% of the votes!\" Lukas smirked, \"However, so does he!\"\n\n\"So, who is in the lead?\" you ask.\n\n\"Here, see for yourself!\" Lukas gives you his smartphone. You gasp: right now, him and you both hover at 15.1% only separated by dozens of votes. \n\n\"Holy...\" your words trail off. Your candidacy had been a bit of a joke, only intended as a statement that you no longer follow your mother.\n\n\"How about you watch with us. If you win, we can tell the boss about this!\" Lukas suggested. You accept, order a döner and watch the results with him and his group. The reporters now talk to a politics professor who does not know how to make head or tails out of the result either, but can speculate well. Sometimes another cut to another party headquarter: CDU crushed, SPD sad, Greens gloomy, Linke languishing, AfD angry, FDP feliciously celebrating doubling their former result. But now also celebrations from smaller parties: Manic MLPD, partying PARTEI, victorious Violets. Lukas repeatedly refreshes the municipal website and the group sees the percentage of votes that are accounted for rise while the race continues to be as close as possible. Lukas' friends are amused by the affair almost as much as Lukas is. Whenever you are in the lead, he sings for the group: \"Send you to Berlin, we gonna send you to Berlin, send you to Berlin!\" to a tune of a football chant, to the confused stare of the clerk, who repeatedly offers to turn on EPL or Bundesliga if the group wants him to. Of course, the group is much more entertained by this spectacle. And when Lukas' phone shows the battery warning and just seconds after that, only a black screen, you excuse yourself and go home, to watch the results. When the phone died, 93% of the votes had been accounted for. When you return home, you immediiately open the municipal website. This time, 99% of the votes are accounted for and again no one has any lead at all. Both you and your rival are at exact parity. You reload again: 100% of votes are accounted for. A one vote lead. For you, over the other candidate. You stare at the results in shock. Then you look at the tiny text below it: \"Due to the close victory of the E4 candidate, this result is preliminary.\""
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[WP] Two snowflakes falling from the sky, talking about the meaning of their life and what happens when they get to the bottom
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"\"Crystallize, fall, melt,\" ❄ said.\n\n\"Huh?\" ❅ said.\n\n\"That's the cycle. All of it. What do we exist for?\"\n\n\"Beauty?\"\n\n\"What beauty? All we see is clouds, other snowflakes, and one spot of the Earth rapidly becoming larger.\"\n\n\"No, I meant, like, we ourselves. We're beautiful.\"\n\n\"Pssh, maybe you are. I, however, am apparently not as full of myself as you are.\"\n\n\"I hope you land in fresh cow shit.\"\n\n\"Me too; beats being compacted into *ice*.\""
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For those of you that want ideas:
- What does Death look like? Is he (she) mysterious or a normal person?
- What afterlife are these souls going to?
- What are the characteristics of Death and the memorable person? How do they interact?
IDK why I typed all that, no one else ever does.
Have fun! (And thanks for reading all of this)
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[WP] As Death, you meet everyone you take to the afterlife. Describe a particularly memorable person.
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"I noticed on my way to my next appointment that I was going to a middle school. I know I get a bit of a bad reputation, what with being death and all, but that always makes me a little bit sad too. I usually only schedule appointments when I really have to, and I try to make sure everyone I meet is at least 70 if I can. Of course, some of them get sick or get themselves into the wrong situation and there's nothing that can be done; but it doesn't mean I enjoy it.\n\nThis was a particularly sunny day, and I walk up to the school. Southside Middle School was carved into the stone above the front door. It's a pretty big building, and there are lots of students heading in. I can see all of them, but they can't see me. To most people, I don't look like anything - to those that I have come to see, I just fit in. Whatever they expect to see from a stranger at their current location, that's what I look like to them. \n\n\"Hey, are you new here?\"\n\nI guess this must be the kid. He looks like he's about 12 years old. He's wearing blue jeans and the jersey of the local sports team. He seems a little undersized compared to the other kids, but other than that just a normal 12-year old with brown hair and blue eyes. I'm a little bit surprised with how cheery he is today. I guess he doesn't know.\n\n\"Yeah, I am. What's your name?\"\n\n\"My name is Timmy. I'm in 6th grade what about you?\"\n\n\"Me? Oh, uh.. I'm a 7th grader, I just moved in from upstate.\"\n\nThe kid seems pretty eager to talk to me. That always makes me feel a little bit worse, when they're friendly people. I usually end up spending the day with them since I don't really know when it's going to happen, and I am usually a lot more content with myself if they seem like a shitty person. I try to focus and not let myself think about it, though.\n\n\"That's cool! My grandparents live up there. That's actually where I spend most of my weekends.\"\n\n\"Oh, really? You must have pretty cool grandparents to be going up there so often.\"\n\n\"No, not really... I mean, they're alright. I kind of just go there whenever my parents are busy that's all. We don't really do anything fun there.\"\n\n\"Oh, so... your parents are busy a lot, then?\"\n\n\"Yeah, they always have friends that come over only on the weekends. They usually ask for money when they come in and their friends never want to talk to me, but they are probably just really busy like my parents. I know that they go to a lot of places asking for money like that. My parents won't tell me what they sell but I guess it's important.\"\n\nJust then a much bigger kid comes up to Timmy. He grabs Timmy's books and throws them to the ground. The other kid is menacing, probably an 8th grader. I don't know what is going on but I am starting to get nervous. I just met the kid but I already feel really bad about the situation.\n\nFortunately, Timmy makes it out of the confrontation just fine. Turns out it was just one of his friends messing around - he picked up the books as soon as he knocked them down. I always get on edge whenever I'm at my appointments. You never know when you'll be needed, and you want to make it as clean as possible. They're all going to die either way, but my job is to take their souls. That's when the suffering ends, and the longer it takes me to do my job the more pain they experience. \n\nTimmy makes it through the rest of his day just fine. He looks like he knows what's going on in all of his classes, and usually won't talk to me until they're over because he's taking notes. He eats lunch with a bunch of kids, even though he barely has anything packed. They go outside for recess together and he's one of the best basketball players on the asphalt. He seems to enjoy himself the entire day. \n\nWhen the final bell rings, Timmy looks really worried. He trudges to his locker to get his things, and he doesn't really seem like he wants to go home very much. I go and ask him if anything is wrong.\n\n\"Hey man, are you alright? You seem a little down right now.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I'm fine. I had a great day, I just don't feel like going home.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry to hear that, are you gonna be alright?\"\n\n\"Yeah yeah, it's not a big deal my parents just haven't been paying much attention to me lately and it gets boring. I like it a lot better here where I have friends. Mom and Dad don't want other kids in the house. They say that all we do is get in the way.\"\n\nI feel awful for the kid, but I just tell him that I'm sorry and that I'll come home with him to keep him company. He tells me that his parents won't let that happen, but I say that they won't notice. It wasn't even a good excuse, but he doesn't seem to care. He just sulks over towards what appears to be one of his parent's cars. \n\nIt's an old beat-up pickup, with rust all over the exterior and a tire that definitely needs air. One of the taillights is even smashed. We approach the car and see his Dad through the window, who doesn't even see Timmy or myself as we get in. His eyes are droopy and he carelessly throws his head around to see his son. \n\n\"Hey, Timmy, how about you don't go to school these next few days, huh? Me and your mom we're gonna be real busy and I don't think we can drive youuhhh...\"\n\nHe slurs off the last few words. He looks to be on some heavy opiates. I see his foot move toward the peddle and I know what's going to happen. I know what all of you are thinking; you have an appointment with the kid and not the father? You're just going to let this happen? I know, I know. I thought the same thing when I first got the job. But after countless hours, you learn there's nothing you *can* do. You're just here for the aftermath.\n\nAs we start to move, I turn and look at Timmy. I can see tears in his eyes, and I reassuringly rest my hand on his shoulder and give him a smile.\n\nIt's all I can do. ",
"The fire made gentle pops and cracks. The rocking chair creaked loudly, though that always calmed him. Bones are comfortable to sit on, but make awfully loud noises. Another sip of his camomile tea would empty the cup. He hated last sips, but maybe he only hated them because he hated empty cups. He wasn’t really sure. Camomile was supposed to have a calming effect, wasn’t it? He let out an annoyed and bored sigh. \n\nThe days before the Christmas holidays were boring. They were like a calm before the storm. All the sorry souls who were going to take their lives during the holidays were probably planning the act at this very moment. \nSuicidal people always expected pity from him. Why from him, he always wondered. It was just his job, he didn’t care. He was only the skipper between worlds. He just collected the souls, loaded them on his – rather old and rusted – ferry and sailed it to the other side. Hard, honest work. Low pay. \nThat reminded him, ‘ask for a raise’ was still listed just under ‘ask for a new ferry’ and just above ‘buy bigger teacups’ on his to-do list. \n\nThe clock hit ten in the evening. Ding, ding, ding, ding, dong – that was odd – ding, ding, ding, ding, ding. ‘Ask for a new clock’ he added on his list, in between ‘ask for a new ferry’ and ‘buy bigger teacups’. He let out a bored sigh again. His cup was empty, and he needed to pee. \n\nAs he went to the loo, leaving the rocking chair rocking back and forth with loud creaks, he passed his camomile plant and stopped midstride. It had begun to flower again. He always liked that moment of irony, a flower coming to life in the exceptionally dull house of Death. He let out a hearty chuckle. \nIt reminded him of this one odd fellow he ferried a couple of years back. That man had been really chatty about the benefits of drinking camomile tea. Death had listened to the man, out of courtesy of course, for it was an exceptionally boring tale. He had asked the man how he developed such an interest in something so mundane as camomile tea.\n\nHe had told him he didn’t have a particular interest in camomile tea itself. No, he assured him, it was the influence a story told with passion could have on people that interested him. The Camomile Man had chosen a boring subject as camomile tea on purpose, as a social experiment. During his life he had ‘spread the word of Camomile’. Death thought it a bit narcissistic to consider yourself the prophet of a plant, but said nothing of it. \nThe man had continued to orate about how he had monitored the consumption of camomile tea before and after his speeches, and they had – of course – skyrocketed. They had skyrocketed so hard, camomile had gone extinct in three years. It had saddened the Camomile Prophet more than he wanted to admit, because he had grown to love camomile, more than was good for a human being. At the same time he had been overjoyed because his social experiment had gone so well. There was no living soul who hadn’t tasted the boring taste of camomile tea, the man had claimed. ‘No living soul’ were the words that had prompted him to conduct a final experiment. \n\nNow, Death needed to pee because he drank so much camomile tea. Maybe the man had been a Prophet after all.\n",
"I have been doing this job since the beginning of time, carrying the souls to the Judgement Gate, awaiting the verdict of Heaven or Hell. The journey for each soul depends on the person who died. The elderly can take a while, reviewing their life choices, memorable moments. Children are always the shortest, too young to live, too young for major life choices. Their end review is usually a collection of happy memories with mothers and fathers. Infants are the worst, barely having the chance to live, their time in the journey is short, with automatic passes to Heaven. \n\nI stand before the Judgement Gates with the recently deceased soul. I have watched powerful men crumble when they receive the sentence to Hell, just as I have watched lesser men and women praise their god as they are welcomed into Heaven. I have watched men and women plead and beg, making a case as to why they deserve to enter Heaven. I have watched the Judge laugh in their faces, telling them the verdict is final. I am nothing more than a bailiff in a court room, ushering the souls to their respectable places. I do not have a say in the matter, I cannot help plead your case. For I am nothing more than Death, the soul carrier between life and afterlife. \n\nI have carried the souls of many. Men and women, famous throughout their life. Men and women, either good or evil. To me, they are nothing more than a soul, needing to be carried. Once they pass the threshold to Heaven or Hell, they are lost to me, just another soul to reap. \n\nOnly one man really stands out in my mind. He died at the age of fifty, by the death of another. He was somber, accepted he had passed without a question. He asked me no questions as we began our journey. \n\nAs the review of his life began, the beginning images were of horrible things. Bullying his classmates. Attacking his parents. Torturing his family dog. By the time he was sixteen, he had been arrested three times, for attacking people. By the time he was twenty, he murdered someone else, landing himself in prison for a long stretch of time. \n\nHowever, as the horrible images ended, happier things came. At some point in his prison career, he decided to change, opened himself up to religion and a god. This once evil man spent the remainder of his years helping others, reaching out and doing good. I saw him in soup kitchens, serving food to the hungry. Animal shelters, caring for unwanted cats and dogs. \n\nI was impressed. This once evil man turned himself completely around, bringing good into the world. However, he barely glanced at the images of his good deeds, instead he focused on the path ahead. \n\nAs we reached the Judgement Gates, the man spoke for the first time and said, “I’ve already accepted my place in Hell.”\n\nThe Judge said nothing in response, only looked at the man before him. He sat there staring, pondering the words of the man before him. \n\nWhen he finally spoke, the Judge simply said, “You are welcomed into Heaven.” \n\nThe man appeared baffled, as if he was being told a lie. “No. I did horrible things throughout my life. My rightful place is Hell.” \n\nThe Judge shook his head and repeated his verdict. “You are welcomed into Heaven. Yes, you did horrible things, but you changed your life around. You are no longer than man you once were and for that, Heaven awaits you.” \n\nNothing more was said, as I ushered the soul of this man to the door of Heaven. For the first time since he died, the man gave a hint of a smile, as he crossed the threshold into the paradise that awaited him.\n",
"Endless red sands. \n\nThe ruins of what appeared to be a church surrounded both of them. A sullen, old man in a dark coat walks slowly down the aisle, leaving footprints in the dust behind him. \n\nIn front, sitting sideways on the altar, a pale woman with flowing black hair. A short leather jacket and dark, shredded jeans. She turns to him, then shifts to stand before him. \n\nThe remnants of stained glass tower above them, seven in total. The sunlight shining through them would have been beautiful.\n\nIf there was a sun.\n\nThe man pauses, and takes in his surroundings. \"I suppose this is it then.\"\n\nThe girl approaches, placing a hand on his arm. A single tear streams down her cheek, glistening. \"I suppose it is.\"\n\n\"I never expected it would actually be you. Anyone else, really.\"\n\n\"Cheer up, old man! Everyone sees what they want to see, but you...\" She turns back to the Altar and picks up a silver necklace - a pendant shaped like an ankh - and holds it up for him to see. \"You saw the truth.\"\n\n\"Hardly seems like it. If I didn't do what I did, would any of this be the same?\"\n\n\"Who knows? But the important thing is you did. You made this the truth. Your truth. That's all that matters right now.\" She hugs the man, and despite the chill of both their skins he feels a warmth in the gesture. \"And for that we owe you everything.\"\n\nA small chuckle breaks the silence as the man pulls away. \"It's funny really. Have you ever heard of Roko's Basilisk? The beast that can only exist because you know of it?\"\n\n\"Yeah, I've heard of it. Nothing actually comes of it to my knowledge.\"\n\n\"But the principle still stands. None of you would exist to this extent without me, but once I had thought of it, your brother made sure that it was always meant to be. And of course Dream helped with filling the details. He was the true star.\"\n\n\"He always was one for spectacle. But enough of that. There's a lot of people waiting for you.\"\n\nThe man turns to her, and smiles. \"You look just like her.\"\n\n\"She said as much.\" The girl heads back, past the windows depicting her family, and out into the desert, beckoning him to follow. He does. \n\n\"We have a lot to talk about, Death.\"\n\n\"I look forward to it, Neil.\"",
"She was standing, I don't come across many of those. I remember her specifically, She was young with blonde hair. Deep, piercing Brown eyes, they were staring at me when I came to collect. I was almost intimidated but her eyes welcomed me at the same time. She's even stronger than her grandmother. I remember Lesiel Meminger very well, but her story has been told. It's Lesiel Weber's turn now. I collected her soul and felt a great sadness come over me. I was thrown into her story. \n\nAfter her grandmother passed Leisel went back to Germany. She moved back to the rebuilt Heaven street and back into her great grandparent's, whom she had never met, house. \n\nShe had grown up with the tales of what her grandmother and Rudy Steiner got into. She knew about Max Vandenburg. She knew how her grandmother came to stay with the Hubermanns. She still had one of the book her grandmother stole. She had grown up in a shadow. \n\nLeisel went to work a week after she came to Germany. She went to work for government and was sent into the Vietnam War. She helped many people recover and I ran into a few times whenever one of her patients died. She always took the burden of this so when I came to collect them there were lite.\n\nThe ship she was working on got blown up, while Leisel was up top. She was blown off the ship and landed on land. She died upon impact with the sand. She has a heavy soul but it's with great pride I bear it now.\n\n(I know it's short but I'm proud of it. I hope you like it. I based this story after The Book Thief. No words are spoken but I believe I got what I needed to get across.)",
"“Who are you?”\n\nI get that a lot. Partly because they don’t realize what is happening. Mostly because I’m not what anyone expects.\n\nI used to be a private person- well, if you’d call me a person. My old outfit was basically what made my career, but I thought it was too creepy, too hidden. That long black cloak and skull mask freaked people out, made it harder to get them to come with me. I thought it was pretty good representation of the way they thought about me. Scary and dark and all. I thought I was clever, making their journey from Earth to afterlife more sacred. But it got annoying after awhile, all their fighting.\n\nSo I tried to it into something more comforting. I tried white robes and a friendly face. But that just made them think I was God or an angel, and watching the disappointment in their eyes as I explained that there was no God was kind of hard to do. Plus, I missed it when they fought me. It made me happy to see so many people fighting for their lives, especially those who had summoned me themselves.\n\nAfter that I tried to fuse the two: comforting and fitting to the occasion. I lost the robes and cloaks. I decided to look like one of them, but not so much that it would be confusing. My attire changed according to the time period so there’s no point in explaining them all to you. But I guess my modern look is really all you need to know, or at least what I looked like when I met with her.\n\nI looked like your average punk girl. Bright red pigtails, lots of dark makeup, and laser red eyes adorned my face. I also had a ratty leather jacket, short, black jean shorts, platform boots, and crazy jewelry all over my body. While this look may not seem too comforting to you, it was hell of a lot better than the spooky skeleton and scythe thing. \n\nAnyway, back to the story. \n\n“Who are you?” she asked, looking my body up and down.\n\nI was sitting in the chair she had just stepped off. My legs were crossed, I was staring into her icy blue eyes with my own blood-red ones. I gestured to the rope around her neck.\n\n“You don’t know by now?”\n\nShe furrowed her brow, confused. “I didn’t think the Grim Reaper existed.”\n\nI smiled sourly. “Well, now you know better.”\n“Huh,” she replied, sounding unimpressed. “So, what happens now?”\n\n“I take you to the afterlife,” I said, getting up and motioning her to follow me.\n\nShe didn’t move. “Why didn’t you come before?”\n\n“What?” Now I was the one confused.\n\n“Before, the other time.”\n\n“Look kid, I don’t pay attention to your life at all. I only come when you’re completely out.”\n\n“But I was,” she said, looking at me again with those piercing eyes. “Everything else in the world was frozen in time. I had been hit by a car. I was wandering around here, waiting for… I guess you to come.”\n\nI frowned. “Well sometimes when people have near death experiences they can hallucinate that kind of crap. You were probably technically dead for some time, but they were able to save you.”\n\n“But they never saved me.”\n\n“What do you mean?”\n\nShe pointed at the noose around her neck. “I didn’t want to do this. It was the only way to escape this frozen world.”\n\nI looked at her in disbelief. Not once had I missed an appointment. I took my job very seriously and this just could not be possible. How the fuck did this happen?\n\n“Let me check your records,” I said quietly. In a moment, I had transferred her life records into my hand, and was sifting through them. I skipped to the last page and started to read thoughtfully. Finally I found my answer, and I froze. \n\nShe sensed my unease. “What, what is it?”\n\n“Well,” I began, regaining my composure. “It seems as if I’ve actually missed an appointment.” I looked up at her apologetically. “Sorry about that.”\n\nShe looked down, sighing. “At least it’s over now.”\n\nI smiled, more sincerely this time, and offered her my hand. “Come on, I’ll lead the way.”\n\nAs we walked I tried to hide my face; for if she saw it, she would realize I had lied. And she would realize she wasn’t really dead at all, that she was like me.\n\nI never liked difficulty during the job.",
"*ping*\nAnd the doors to the supermarket opened, I looked down on my list and saw my next appointments profile, the company has gotten better now they come with a picture so you can identify them easier...\n\nSarah More\nAge 9\nSupermarket, Aile #7 Toys\nReally cute girl, brown hair and cute little dimples.\n\nNow I need to look for the toys section, I have about 10 minutes to find her and take her with me, while I walk through other ailes I start seeing a couple of my co-workers, it's really fun when we have this kind of events happen, most of us play bets on who gets the job done faster.\n\nWhen I see Sarah she looks exactly like in the picture, she is with her mom and big sister, I take a quick look on to her profile and it makes me fell a little guilty to see her background... honor student, she wants to become a doctor\n\nSarah and her sister are talking about how they will spend the holiday over at their Grandparents, while her mom is looking at the price tag of the toys Sarah wants to get\n\n*bang*\nSuddenly I hear the 1st alarm, it's almost time to take Sarah, when the 3rd alarm rings I will take her with me, and I need to do it as fast as I can, not because of the bet, but because I could not let this kid suffer.\n\n*bang*\n2nd Alarm hits and Sarah's Mom and sister start running but Sarah doesn't move, the poor little kid is so afraid her legs won't respond, and it's almost time, Randy appears next to me and tells me that he is almost finished with his appointment, Martin Whitmore, and when he says so I see Mr Whitmore coming up to Sarah with his rifle on his hand pointing at her\n\n*bang*\nI take Sarah with me and a few seconds later Randy takes Mr. Whitmore with him.\n\nMr.Whitmore was one of those guys who had a lot of stress, but today he just snapped, he was so mad he went into a supermarket with his riffle and killed 15 people's, including his Wife and son, and Sarah.\n\nI will need to finish some paperwork because of this kind of events, but after that I will go grab some lunch with the guys.",
"The walk to the Pearly Gates is usually quite interesting. I've met people who were ecstatic to be going to heaven. Met impatient people who couldn't stop asking questions about what lies beyond them, even though they'd find out themselves in about 5 minutes. Met people who were frightened, relieved, and regretful. Almost everyone is stunned by the magnificence of the doors. I guess when you've been doing this as long as I have, the charm is lost on you. And the people start to get annoying. Still, I try to be a good host. After all, I'm the first point of contact into the afterlife.\n\nI've seen nearly every possible reaction to finding out that you're dead, so after a while, the faces and the people sort of become forgettable. Today though, I met a special soul. He stood there at first, mouth agape, like all the others before him. \n\"Hello there! I'm Death, and I'll be helping you transition into the afterlife. I realize that this experience may be... jarring, but rest assured that I'll be here to provide any assistance you require until reach the gates. Any questions?\"\nHe looked up at me, not with the initial fear I've come to expect but with wonder and also befuddlement.\n\"You're way taller than I thought you'd be. Where's your scythe?\"\nI was taken aback. Noone really asks me about myself. I chuckled and said \n\"It didn't test well with the focus groups.\" \nHe laughed and we began walking. It was a while before he talked again.\n\"So God's going to be there?\"\n\"Yes he is.\"\n\"Can I ask him questions?\"\n\"Well, you get some face-to-face time with him after the orientation, so you can ask him anything you want then. But you can only ask him 3 questions, cause he needs to meet everyone else too\"\n\"That's ok. I only really have one.\"\n\"Really? What is it?\"\n\"Why cancer?\"\nHe stopped walking, and I with him. \n\"Why give kids cancer? Why give anybody cancer? Why make it so our bodies reject themselves?\" He repeated, his clear brown eyes still calm. \"He's supposed to be almighty right? Why can't he just save every kid?\" I was speechless.\n\"I...I don't know. Maybe he once was, but I don't think he is anymore. I'm sure it tears his heart to see his creations suffering and not be able to do anything about it.\" \nHe stood silent for a moment, and then began walking again.\n\"I guess, if it's not in his control anymore, I forgive him then\"\nWe reached the gates and he turned around and looked back up at me.\n\"When my parents finally come here, can you tell them I wasn't scared? That was a brave boy.\" He said, his eyes now tearing up. I felt myself choke back tears of my own. It's been an eternity since I'd felt this way.\n\"I promise kiddo. Now go ahead inside. Enjoy your stay!\" I smiled. He gave me a toothy grin, as he turned around and ran towards the gates. I'll tell them kid. I promise\n\n\nFirst time responding to a prompt! Friendly criticism appreciated!",
"I noticed on my way to my next appointment that I was going to a middle school. I know I get a bit of a bad reputation, what with being death and all, but that always makes me a little bit sad too. I usually only schedule appointments when I really have to, and I try to make sure everyone I meet is at least 70 if I can. Of course, some of them get sick or get themselves into the wrong situation and there's nothing that can be done; but it doesn't mean I enjoy it.\n\nThis was a particularly sunny day, and I walk up to the school. Southside Middle School was carved into the stone above the front door. It's a pretty big building, and there are lots of students heading in. I can see all of them, but they can't see me. To most people, I don't look like anything - to those that I have come to see, I just fit in. Whatever they expect to see from a stranger at their current location, that's what I look like to them. \n\n\"Hey, are you new here?\"\n\nI guess this must be the kid. He looks like he's about 12 years old. He's wearing blue jeans and the jersey of the local sports team. He seems a little undersized compared to the other kids, but other than that just a normal 12-year old with brown hair and blue eyes. I'm a little bit surprised with how cheery he is today. I guess he doesn't know.\n\n\"Yeah, I am. What's your name?\"\n\n\"My name is Timmy. I'm in 6th grade what about you?\"\n\n\"Me? Oh, uh.. I'm a 7th grader, I just moved in from upstate.\"\n\nThe kid seems pretty eager to talk to me. That always makes me feel a little bit worse, when they're friendly people. I usually end up spending the day with them since I don't really know when it's going to happen, and I am usually a lot more content with myself if they seem like a shitty person. I try to focus and not let myself think about it, though.\n\n\"That's cool! My grandparents live up there. That's actually where I spend most of my weekends.\"\n\n\"Oh, really? You must have pretty cool grandparents to be going up there so often.\"\n\n\"No, not really... I mean, they're alright. I kind of just go there whenever my parents are busy that's all. We don't really do anything fun there.\"\n\n\"Oh, so... your parents are busy a lot, then?\"\n\n\"Yeah, they always have friends that come over only on the weekends. They usually ask for money when they come in and their friends never want to talk to me, but they are probably just really busy like my parents. I know that they go to a lot of places asking for money like that. My parents won't tell me what they sell but I guess it's important.\"\n\nJust then a much bigger kid comes up to Timmy. He grabs Timmy's books and throws them to the ground. The other kid is menacing, probably an 8th grader. I don't know what is going on but I am starting to get nervous. I just met the kid but I already feel really bad about the situation.\n\nFortunately, Timmy makes it out of the confrontation just fine. Turns out it was just one of his friends messing around - he picked up the books as soon as he knocked them down. I always get on edge whenever I'm at my appointments. You never know when you'll be needed, and you want to make it as clean as possible. They're all going to die either way, but my job is to take their souls. That's when the suffering ends, and the longer it takes me to do my job the more pain they experience. \n\nTimmy makes it through the rest of his day just fine. He looks like he knows what's going on in all of his classes, and usually won't talk to me until they're over because he's taking notes. He eats lunch with a bunch of kids, even though he barely has anything packed. They go outside for recess together and he's one of the best basketball players on the asphalt. He seems to enjoy himself the entire day. \n\nWhen the final bell rings, Timmy looks really worried. He trudges to his locker to get his things, and he doesn't really seem like he wants to go home very much. I go and ask him if anything is wrong.\n\n\"Hey man, are you alright? You seem a little down right now.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I'm fine. I had a great day, I just don't feel like going home.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry to hear that, are you gonna be alright?\"\n\n\"Yeah yeah, it's not a big deal my parents just haven't been paying much attention to me lately and it gets boring. I like it a lot better here where I have friends. Mom and Dad don't want other kids in the house. They say that all we do is get in the way.\"\n\nI feel awful for the kid, but I just tell him that I'm sorry and that I'll come home with him to keep him company. He tells me that his parents won't let that happen, but I say that they won't notice. It wasn't even a good excuse, but he doesn't seem to care. He just sulks over towards what appears to be one of his parent's cars. \n\nIt's an old beat-up pickup, with rust all over the exterior and a tire that definitely needs air. One of the taillights is even smashed. We approach the car and see his Dad through the window, who doesn't even see Timmy or myself as we get in. His eyes are droopy and he carelessly throws his head around to see his son. \n\n\"Hey, Timmy, how about you don't go to school these next few days, huh? Me and your mom we're gonna be real busy and I don't think we can drive youuhhh...\"\n\nHe slurs off the last few words. He looks to be on some heavy opiates. I see his foot move toward the peddle and I know what's going to happen. I know what all of you are thinking; you have an appointment with the kid and not the father? You're just going to let this happen? I know, I know. I thought the same thing when I first got the job. But after countless hours, you learn there's nothing you *can* do. You're just here for the aftermath.\n\nAs we start to move, I turn and look at Timmy. I can see tears in his eyes, and I reassuringly rest my hand on his shoulder and give him a smile.\n\nIt's all I can do. "
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These two men might harbor some resentment to one another, but they need each other to achieve a common goal.
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[WP] A prejudiced, former Confederate crack-shot soldier enlists the aid of a former African-American slave in the American West, who agreed. What could possibly bring these two unlikely allies together?
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[
"\"It's simple,\" Cody said, running a hand over his considerable stubble. \"You get half. Buy a plot 'a land out here where the green grass grows, fuck some girls prettier than the ones upstairs- Anything. What about this ain't you getting?\"\n\nSimon stared at the veteran, the corner of his eye lingering on the gun belted to his waist. The shine had disappeared, meaning it had seen some use. His own hand rested against his thigh, his thumb tucked into the pocket but within easy reach of the hammer on his Colt. \"Mister, I ain't stupid. There's nothing to get.\"\n\nCody threw his head back and let out a guffaw. He shot a mouthful of whiskey, a grimace barely touching his eyes. He swallowed it as his shoulders heaved in laughter. \"A horde 'a Comanche took down a caravan rolling past Amarillo, killed and fucked every last mother's son and took everything. Those wagons was filled with gold, mister.\" \n\nSimon stared at the veteran, his fury humming behind clenched teeth.\n\n\"Now that happened a day and a half ago, that gives use a bit of a rough start-\n\n\"Mister you wanna stop.\"\n\n\"But it'll even out. Now you can track them Injuns, I heard what you can do, I even seen it myself. And all you gotta do is track them.\" Cody leaned over the table, his face flushed red. With excitement or drunkenness, Simon did not know, but he knew his response was unclear. \"And half's yours.\"\n\n\"I ain't throwing in with you, Mr. Pate,\" Simon replied. \n\nFrustration flashed across Cody's eyes. \"It's Major, friend.\"\n\n\"Last I checked, war's over,\" Simon muttered, his eyes flashing to two men playing cards on the other side of the bar. They were either veterans of the war or veterans of the west, but he noticed them for another reason. No one had played a hand in the last minute or so - and that was an odd thing indeed. \"You might not've heard, but it didn't go so well for you.\" \n\nCody rolled the tobacco in his jaw around in his gums, his expression filled with theatrically amusement. But Simon knew there was anger hiding behind the curtains. \"That so?\"\n\n\"Believe it Mister. There is no way in this world or the next that I am gonna work for you. So if I had a brain under that cap of yours, I'd get up and start walking - And maybe think about taking off those colors.\"\n\nCody's head bounced back and forth as he snorted, his hand noticeably closer to his pistol. \"Why don't you try taking off yours? 'Cause I ain't too happy to be haggling with something my granddaddy probably owned, and I'm cutting you in at half 'a it.\"\n\nSimon's fingers brushed against the grain of the Colt's handle. \"Mister, say that again. See what happens.\"\n\n\"Call me 'Mister' again,\" Cody murmured, leaning back with his hand an inch from his revolver's grip. \"You see what happens.\"\n\nThey stared at each other and the saloon music slowed to a halt. Their mouth's pressed into hard lines, the tendons in their hands taut as wires. Simon smirked slightly knowing it wasn't the OK Corral but it would do. As Simon saw one of the men turn to look at them, Major Cody \"The Wildcat\" Pate did something he could never have predicted - he broke. His eyes fell, and as they did so did his defensives. The saloon music picked back up as he went for his gun, slowly, three of his fingers splayed out to show he meant no harm. \n\nSimon frowned, but kept his hand where it was.\n\nHis eyes cloudy, Cody pulled out his revolver and set it on the table. Across the room, the two men stood up silently. \"I dunno 'bout you,\" he said, his gaze without focus. He spoke in a distant tone but his voice was steady. \"But I got some shit I gotta do with my half. You got any shit to do?\"\n\nA thousand images flooded Simon's mind, but one remained. It shattered as the two men went for their guns. \n\nCody spun in his chair, Simon pulled his Colt, and before the two attackers could get off a single round they put six holes in them. Simon raised his eyebrows, knowing he only fired once. The Wildcat whistled and sat back in his seat, his eyes focused yet again. He shot another mouthful of whiskey without a flinch and eyed Simon expectantly.\n\n\"It ain't half if it ain't fifty-fifty,\" Simon said finally, holstering his Colt.\n\n\"Fifty minus a share is pretty fucking close,\" he replied.\n\n\"Fifty-fifty,\" Simon repeated, his expression grave. \"I got some shit to do, but I ain't doing it for less than that.\"\n\nCody frowned for a moment then grinned. \"You're a one of a kind son of a bitch, you know that?\"\n\nThey shook, but grasped the other's hand lightly. No gunman ever gave a hard shake with his gun hand, and these two were no exception."
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[WP] You travel to the future to discover that history views you as a messiah of sorts. Some of your habits and life choices have become integral parts of the world's most common religion.
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[
"--step out of the time machine onto the cliff under a bright sun. I squint in the light, brighter than ours, I think. I hear the remnants of far-off thunder. Strange given how bright it is. No, not thunder. And, the rumbling sky is not dying down but building. My eyes adjust to where I can open and finally peer into the future, to see before me on the plain below a mass of people, more than I've ever seen before in one place. It isn't the sound of thunder I hear, but the sound of awe. They're all facing me. \n\n\"Our savior has arrived!\" a voice cries out, small as a seagull.\n\nMy stomach turns in on itself with the sinking feeling that I had irreversibly fucked up. This mass attention is a spotlight greater than any celebrity I had experienced back home with my research, made terrible by how undeserved it is. This shouldn't be happening. I try to speak as row after row of white and watermelon-red robed figures drop to their knee. The whistling of starships in the sky.\n\nI try, and I say, \"Hello,\" and then I collapse on the cliff at the center of the universe.\n\nJust as one can create disaster in traveling to the past, so too can a traveler visiting the future. The past and the future -- make no mistake, these terms are not accurate. Time _outside of human experience_ does not flow, but is a whole shape. Time doesn't go from one point to the other, just as the shape of any sculpture (of which many, inspired by modern theories of temporality, has since been sculpted) features no beginning or end. The sculpure's shape does not flow in any direction at all. \n\nTake a slice of time, take a slice of the river. The changing river being the usual metaphor for time. Stop time, and the frozen river does not flow from one place to another. It's just a sculpture in the shape of a river. Similarly, time only flows for the perceiver. That is, time's direction is subjective, but objectively, _time as a whole_ is a four-dimensional shape, like the frozen river. Without flow as we know it. Our time machines cannot travel upon a flow that isn't there, objectively speaking. \n\nSo, our machines hack a totally different conceptual theory of time... The only direction that can be said of sculpture is that from the raw block to the finished piece. Objectivity to subjectivity. Time at its beginning is the raw form the mind continually sculpts a reality from. As the sculptor reveals more of the form inside time, what he has already sculpted changes proportionally, in relation. Once you carve out a big nose, the whole face changes. A sculptor can jump to a different place in the block, but to do so blindly and recklessly would necessarily change what has already been pulled. The sculpture as a whole would begin to suggest a different form: whole new vision of the finished piece.\n\nOf course, this is all just an imprecise metaphor. Even so, it is important to be as careful as possible when traveling into the future. An incomplete understanding should inspire heed.\n\nWe had taken nearly _every precaution_ in travelling to the future. This was our first time. All of humanity's. We were supposed to be essentially incognito, making short scouting missions and using what we've learned to avoid disaster back in the twenty-second century. But, you could say, time was not on our side. Too much was at stake. The further we waited, the greater the likelihood a foreign body or even a terrorist cell could develop the capacity to time travel, and there was no telling what kind of ethical framework they were operating under. We were the good guys. We had no choice but to pull the trigger as soon as we felt we could. \n\nYet we had misjudged, like the novice who chips too hard at the marble and sends a fracture through the entire work.\n\nAnd now, I wake with a violent start. I do not know how long I've been out. The fracture through my heart and mind. I find myself laid out on a white slab bench, with two men and two women on either side of me. They are sitting cross legged on pillows, dressed in white and watermelon-red. I am in my bedroom, exactly how it was when I left it somehow. My books on the desk, Laurel's self-portrait on the wall, the light piling in from the large bay windows. I steady myself on the solid, white bench without any fractures in it. Unknown material. My cat sits on my bed, blinking. I gulp, afraid to ask any questions and affect this time further. But on _my bed?_ If my cat is here, is my wife here too? Is the my whole life outside, recreated? \n\nHow much do these people know?\n\nThe men and women speak in unison, \"Hello, Mathew.\" I look around at them, and each shudders when I make eye contact, as though it requires intense determination to remain calm having been seen by me. \"We hope you find this temple to be true,\" they say in unison. They speak in different pitches, in a crystal harmony.\n\n\"This is my room?\" I ask. They remain silent as if expecting more. Of course it is my room -- it is unmistakable. I offer an answer to their original question, \"It is true,\" and they nod. _A temple,_ they had said. I lose myself in thought. _Our savior has arrived._ Visions of all those people, waiting for me, kneeling for me, they number to the horizon. I begin to curl my hair, lost in thought. An old habit. Whatever happened, the trip had exactly the opposite effect of what we had planned. It seems as though I was the opposite of incognito, unknown. A _savior._ To whom? To how many?\n\nI ask, \"Why did you build me this temple?\"\n\nThey look at each other. I wonder, for the first time, how advanced is their technology? Am I in a virtual reality chamber? Are they augmented? My heart is pounding with adrenaline and question. Perhaps they are discussing the answer through a kind of telepathy. Perhaps, but one woman begins to speak with an unmistakable tentativeness. One of the men, alarmed, says, \"No,\" but she carries through, speaking on her own: \"We built this temple so that we may love. You, and your work, time and distance, for lost love. Everything.\" She says this, not as part of a mantra or dogma, but stumbling through, piecing together thoughts as they come, as if picking different parts of a puzzle off the floor.\n\nAn enigmatic response for what surely must have been an enigmatic question. It is then I notice each of these four persons has a horn of hair curled exactly where I have curled mine, sticking out from their heads. I bring down my hand from my head. I had been furiously curling my lock of hair. Have they always looked like this? The woman who answered me bows her head to her hand and begins to curl her own lock. This same habit I've had since before I've even had hair, always curling even if nothing was there, lost in my own world. She closes her eyes as if in a curl-induced trance. \n\nI watch her, momentarily at peace. Momentarily. I cannot tell whether her curling is practiced. Perhaps, instead of an inborn habit, it is a ritual of their culture? _Of their religion._ I'm reminded how my wife mocks this habit of mine. Or, mocked. Does she still exist? My cat is here on my bed, exactly as she was, blinking at me. Somehow they've recreated my life perfectly. But where is Laurel? A great gulf expands between her and I, the old world and this. The expanding gulf between us is filled with a mysterious water, dark and home to an alien ecosystem. What I need is concrete, objective information if ever I am to dispel the water and piece together this world, _this world that is so wrong as to worship me._ What could I possibly ask? How should I address my disciples?\n\nBefore consciously knowing I would, I find myself asking, \"Tell me my story. Tell me how you came to know me as your savior.\" \n\nThey bow towards me and begin to curl their locks of hair, murmuring in unison, \"You left Laurel Whiteglen to enter the machine, disappearing from time's curve and lip. You left to save the world, O blessed traveler, and the world was thankful, and is. But you broke Laurel Whiteglen's heart, though she knew it would be so, and so Whiteglen began to pen poems to tell of the man she knows. These poems were unlike any other, and impressed with a timeless power. They impressed beyond fame of her husband, written with a love time fractured. Time thus revealed itself as poetry written with the skill of God. And when, as she foretold, every time machine did break apart, we knew without a doubt, like you from she, the world would disappear without a sound, sheer split, lightning. The thankful world became thankful readers, and so studied the texts _like never before._ We know you, Mathew Blue Goddard. We know you as exactly she had told. Her poems were to this day perfection, and she the most perfect poet. We imperfect poets worship you as she had in life, until death do us part, heart bright as the dying sun.\n\n\n"
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Taken from the Simpsons episode 'When You Dish Upon a Star' S10 E5
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[WP]A killer robot driving instructor who travels back in time for some reason. This robot, he's got a heartbreaking decision to make about whether his best friend lives ... or dies. Also His best friend's a talking pie!
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"I never thought it would end like this. Stranded in a desert, not a soul for miles. I knew they were coming for me and Vinchenzio but it really wasn't meant to end this way.\n\n\"Vinchenzio!\" I yelled with a fair amount of energy, considering my predicament. \n\nHe turned to me slowly.\n\n\"Holy shit,\" he replied, \"A talking muffin!\"\n\n\"Cut the crap Vinchenzio, that joke is as stale as your crust.\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah. I know.\"\n\nVinchenzio looked as sad as a talking pie could. He already knew what may have to be done.\n\n\"Look, Jace,\" he started. \"I...\" his voice trailed off.\n\n\"Vinchenzio, you don't have to say anything. I don't really want to do it. I never did tell you why I came here, did I?\"\n\nVinchenzio wiggled a bit, which I assume meant no.\n\n\"I came from the far future to avoid my job. I had to instruct people on driving killer robots.\"\n\nVinchenzio's eyes grew wide.\n\n\"Vinchenzio, I am done with death. I can't take anymore lives. If I die here, today, before they get to us... that's OK. I am ready.\"\n\nVinchenzio looked deep into my eyes, no, my soul.\n\n\"Jace,\" he spoke softly. \"You are not your past but you can be my future. Despite my meaty filling, which is still fresh to this day, I am not much more than a vegetable. My existence is without locomotion and I do not have the ability to feel the whole world, like you do.\" Vinchenzio paused for a while then continued. \"Jace, take me into you. Consume me and survive. We will be one and I will be happy.\"\n\n\"Vinchenzio! I can't do that. You deserve this life more than I!\"\n\n\"My life is nothing compared to your potential, Jace. You may even be able to change the future.\"\n\n\"You're my best friend Vinchenzio!\"\n\n\"And you're mine, Jace. Now take me into your mouth. I may let out a cry or a scream but keep going. Stopping only makes it worse. Hard and fast, got it?\"\n\nI picked Vinchenzio up and held him before my face.\n\n\"Start with the back and work forward, OK?\" His instructions were stern but I complied and turned him around.\n\nMy heart was not truly in it as I started munching.\n\n\"No homo, Vinchenzio.\"\n\n\"No homo, Jace\""
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[WP] I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus, but Santa isn't real and Mommy died last year.
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"What should I have done? What would you have done? \n\nI come home on Christmas eve after a rough day at work, enter my living room and see two people sit on my couch in the dark. As if they were watching tv except that it wasn't on. A dude dressed like Santa and an old lady it seemed - I only saw the backs of their heads. Junkies I presumed, so I took my bat from the kitchen as I circled around to see who they were.\n\nIt was really dark and their long hairs were partially covering their faces.\n\n\"Who are you?! What are you doing here!\" I was holding on to the bat with two hands. I wished I had hit the lights first.\n\nNo answer.\n\n\"This is my house! Get the f----...\" They interrupted me by starting to kiss.\n\nWhat the... I thought.\n\nThen they leaned towards me so I could see their faces... Or what was left of their faces...\n\n\"Tommy, it's me mommy...\" A half-rotten face whispered, with a twisted imitation of a smile.\n\nI just lost it.\n\nDon't know if it was the rough day or the dear memory of my late mother, or their horrid looks - but I just lost it. I beat the ---- out of them with my bat.\n\nI mean, what would you have done?\n\n"
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[WP] Humanity has discovered how to download information directly to our brains. In our haste to learn all there is, we forgot about one thing. Viruses.
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"They eached climbed in their pods in the black of night, the blue lights of each twinkling in an otherwise dead night. No birds sang, no beasts crawled, and all of man was in dreamless sleep, incubated equally within their own mind and each others. The collective web sprouted deep roots, and each successive wave of new information downloaded to each individual left a more lasting, harder to remove mark. \n\n-\n\n\"Come here,\" she said. The child looked into her eyes and knew her intentions, so she followed. Her small footsteps were matched by the woman, each of them darting glances at each other when the other wasn't looking. \n\n*Awaken me,* it whispered in the air. The chill permeated their bodies, but they each chalked it up to weather patterns, knowing each tumultuous clouds path. They continued onward on the shanty path, the stones growing more mossy and chipped till it dissolved into earth. The cave stood in front of them, each side macabre with red smears sliding to the ground.\n\nThe two girls looked at each other once more, this time meeting eyes. And unspoken trust was there, not from friendship or love for each other, but from cruel calculation, and knowledge of each other's in's and out's. An unspoken word resonated within each of them.\n\n*Come.*\n\n-\n\nGotta end it right here for now :O Really sorry, but I've gotta go out. If you like what I've written so far, shoot me an upvote, and I'll return to this if enough people want more. ",
"**First one, a little rusty I’m afraid. Edit minor spelling and grammar\n\nI should have known.\n\nI think I could have done something to stop her if I’d really considered what she was turning into. It was funny at first, placating her insane theories and ideas...I seriously never thought it could actually be done. She always loved power, I always knew she’d abuse it. But, she wasn’t always like this, she had a soul before. She was brilliant and passionate and so very very fun. Everything changed when she was picked to guinea pig the newest tech from her group at MIT, this was before it was tested and distributed widely, of course. I can say I’m pretty sure she was first to receive an info dump, before it was confirmed to be safe...before they put the restrictions on what can be learned. \n\nShe was fine for a while, if not more brilliant than anyone else in the world. But they kicked her out, I think she scared the shit out of them. I can see why. I watched her cut off from her supply of information and she was \"off\"...like a drug addict seeking some kind of fix that she was afraid to admit to herself she needed. She’d buried herself in her work and I thought she started to get better. I really did. She’d retained most, if not, all of the knowledge she’d gained from the info dumps and it opened her life to an insane amount of opportunity. She’d made a few apps which became popular, played and won in quite a few poker tournaments, made a fortune traveling the world between casinos playing blackjack, wrote a ton of papers on the morality of the very tech that had given her this obscene level of intelligence. And a kind of intelligence that didn’t make her too unrelatable. She had a wonderful personality..for a walking wiki on almost anything in the world. I really thought she was going to be okay. Or I swear I’d have done something. \n\nThis was before they announced the release of the software to the public. ‘ANYONE CAN BE AN EXPERT!’ Signs went up and ads started running boasting a more intelligent society living in the new Age of Enlightenment. Of course the dumps were ungodly expensive and heavily moderated and overseen. Her papers on morality helped shape the laws on what could and couldn’t be learned by people. She was invited to chair the ethics board for the company. And since they felt bad about how they treated her, a fellow founder, in the beginning they gave her a ton of power. Too much power, We forgot to account for what she learned before the learning was regulated. I’m surprised she hadn’t snapped or shown her true intentions earlier…. But she was too smart for that. \n\nThe next phase of her plan, (now that I can see that this was her plan all along) was the chips. She owned the company that owned the company that created them. I’m sure her interest in that project wasn’t as far removed as she’d made it seem publicly. And selling off the company to avoid “a conflict of interest” was a brilliant move. She didn’t want the profits from the company, she wanted the company to succeed. Suddenly the chips were commonplace; AUGMENTED REALITY CHIP MAKES THE INTERNET A TANGIBLE PLACE WE CAN ALL LIVE. Information at our fingertips, experience social media in a new way. Instagram moments in time -- stream your first person view to your followers from your eyes! Totally safe!! There were of course, places the chips couldn’t work. There were very expensive machines that temporarily shut off all chips in the area. Funny that the only people not effected for the most part were in prisons, courtrooms, testing facilities, and schools. And those who didn’t have chips. There were more than I thought thank god. We actually may be able to stop her. Or maybe let her see reason. \n\nI’m not a hundred percent sure how she’d done it, but she was contracted to code the info dump for what we called the ‘presidential dump’ a massive worldwide peace and perspective dump for every world leader and highest level clearance cabinet member. Everyone had agreed and gotten together to committee the thing. She represented the company, passed all the psychological and lie detector tests, the background checks and interviews. I don’t know how it was done, though the limits of her intelligence are still, I’m sure, unknown. The planted the virus in the dump some how. It was so well written no one detected it. We had no idea, even after it was done, that anything was wrong. They had no idea she could control them through their chips. She waited to strike. Took to subtle manipulations and alterations that worked for her. \n\nI should have known.\nWe all should have, we opened ourselves up to it."
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[WP] "Do you still think about what you did?"
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"\"Not until you just asked,\" he chuckles back. The laugh is a little too boisterous for the man, the answer a little too swift for the stoicness he so exemplifies.\n\n\"Come on,\" I chide. \"I'm serious,\" I lean forward at him, fiddling with the beer can. In my experience, inebriated on a moonlit night is the best time to be serious. It coaxes the truth out of people. Must be something to do with reducing inhibitions.\n\n\"Look, Diane,\" the worry lines form across his face, creases appearing in familiar places. A face he'd made far too many times. \"I do not want to talk about it.\"\n\n\"Well, you've clearly been thinking about it,\" I shrug. \"First thing that came to your mind.\" On another night I would've dropped it, the same dance we'd made a million times before. I prodded the campfire with a stick and watched as the flames flickering across his face changed positions. He looked grim one second, pensive the next, and I wasn't certain whether it was a trick of the light.\n\n\"I did what I had to do. I do not need to be poked and prodded about it. Especially not by you,\" he said, pointedly. He tossed aside his can of beer and reached for another.\n\n\"You can't keep it all bottled up like that,\" I inch my chair closer to him, the plastic legs scratching into the gravel. \"One day it's all going to come out, and it won't be pretty.\"\n\n\"Yeah, well, cross that bridge when we come to it,\" he swigs another beer.\n\n\"Fine,\" I sigh. \"I think the marshmallows are done anyways.\"",
"The night was a cold one. Blackness swarmed beyond the windows. Frost caressing the glass flickered and shimmered in the firelight within the fireplace. Nothing other than dancing sparks and an antique lamp illuminated the sitting room. The hour was late and most were long asleep. Only two figures remained motionless, staring into the flames with identical, pale eyes.\n\nErren and his family had decided to spend Christmas at his parents' house. His father, sister, niece, wife, and children slept soundly, but he was not given that option, for he knew something they did not.\n\nAs he sat on the floor wrapped tightly in a soft blanket, his mind wandered to his wife's family. Nearly a year ago her mother had succumbed to cancer and her sister had overdosed. Distraught, her father had soon followed in their footsteps.\n\nAnother figure sat on the couch behind him, still in her day clothes with a thousand yard stare. His mother, Scarlet, who had seen more than any woman should.\n\n\"Do you still think about it?\" Erren's rasp was hardly louder than the crackle of the fire.\n\n\"Think about what?\" Scarlet muttered distantly.\n\n\"What you did.\"\n\nThis caught the red-headed woman off guard. Her eyes flickered to her son and she shifted, crossing her arms, but remained silent.\n\n\"Do you?\" Erren pressed, twisting his torso to look at her. \"Do you think about how you poisoned Beth?\"\n\nScarlet's face fell. She had confided in her son after the burden had weighed so heavily on her mind. Yes, she had poisoned her friend, but only because she could no longer watch her suffer. \"She knew what I put in the wine,\" Scarlet mumbled in a hushed tone, gaze returning to the fire. \"It was cruel and selfish to keep her here for as long as we did.\"\n\n\"It was cruel to take her from Will and Rose,\" Erren countered bitterly.\n\nScarlet threw an accusing stare at her son. \"William was dead long before she was,\" she snapped quietly. \"Rose has you, does she not? I did not condemn Elizabeth.\" A silence stretched between the two. After only moments, Erren turned back around, sorrow weighing heavily on his features. Scarlet released a slow breath. \"I freed her.\"",
"I drummed my fingers on the mahogany desk I'd gotten a few years back, thinking about something an old friend of mine had said. We'd been at a reunion of the battalion from The War a few weeks ago, the 117th Pennsylvania, and I was with a couple old squad buddies, when my friend, Ryan, asked me about...\"The Thing\", as we described it oh so ominously, so as not to think too much about it, \"Do you still think about what you did?\"\n\nIt was Northern France, May 1918. We had been in the trenches a few weeks, having been shipped there in February, and three days after we'd gotten off the boat, we saw service for the first time. Now, it was May then, with the trees blooming, the air being warm and pleasant, and such other poetic shit. We were in a small village near the Belgian border, where my squad, with Ryan, Michael, and O'Sean were patrolling in the wee hours of the morning, where we noticed a small light coming from one of the scnt few undamaged buildings there. This village, i cant remember the name of it, went back 'n forth every couple or weeks, and this building wasn't occupied by any of our men, so we went inside, and saw a...I hesitate to call it a man, but more of a young boy in a German uniform, sleeping away. We looked at each other, and I knelt down, unlatched my bayonet from its scabbard, and quietly guided it into the kids gullet. We all felt a bile in the back of our throats as I did this, but we knew we had to do it. So when Ryan brought it up, it got me thinking about the kid. He had so many opportunities, so many chances, yet he lost them all when I slid my knife into him. \n\n\"Alex, are you alright?\" My assistant, Nancy Hedgins, asked me. I'd met her in '20, when I was setting up my agency, and helped me out. Its been 7 years since then, and we've strictly kept our relationship work-based. That isn't to say there haven't been escapades... \n\nAnyway, I askedher, brushing off her comment, \"I'm alright, just thinking about something. You got a few leads on a case for me?\"\n\n\"Yeah, bit of a creepy one. Turns out someone's found a few more bodies near the U.S. Steel Mill. These had a letter with them, addressed to you.\" She said, handing him a slightly bulky letter that had an off-white color to it, along with his name, Alexander Dunois, on it. I opened it, to reveal immediately the words that stopped me in my tracks, \"From One Soldier to Another\". My hands shook a little as I unfolded the letter, and I read it, for thirty minutes in silence as Nancy got me my cup of coffee with creme and sugar,which isn't what you expect from a hard boiled detective, but we've all got our own little personal delights.\n\nAs I finished reading the letter, I quietly asked her, \"Nancy, do you...remember-\"\n\nShe knew what I was thinking about, and replied quickly, \"Yes, I do. And **how** does it relate to the case?\" as she began typing at her typewriter for that fiction magazine of her.\n\nI sat up from my chair, grabbing my cane, and hobbled a little bit over to the coatstand, where I got my trenchcoat, hat, and pistol. As I got my coat on, I told her, \"It relates, since the kid is who I believe to be the suspect.\"\n\n\"You know you shouldn't go out like that, since the Doc said for you not to do cases until you're better.\" Nancy remarked, the typewriter sounding much like a machine gun.\n\n\"Bah whatever.\" I replied as I walked out the door. I thought to myself, *Well, I still think about \"The thing\", Ryan, and now I can confront it head on.*\n\n\nConstructive Crit is appreciated.\n",
"\"Do you still think about what you did?\" she asks me. I know Marge has been waiting to ask me for years, but as we stand on the hilltop under the crimson sky, I can't help wish that she would enjoy the sunset in peace. \n\n\"No,\" I told her. \"There is nothing to think about in the past. It has happened, it is gone and there is nothing that can change it.\" I sat down on the grass as the last rays of sun faded on the horizon. She huffed. I knew what was coming.\n\n\"Nothing to think about? There is everything to think about. A great deal of people want to see you dead. Are you going to tell them to just not think about the past and pretend everything is okay? They won't accept that.\"\n\n\"Well they should,\" I said. \"How else would we be here today? They'd still be squandering, looting, running amok at some stupid End of the World Party. I gave them focus. I saved their lives.\"\n\n\"And you took many to save them. Some of them were people they loved.\"\n\n\"You think I didn't lose anyone?\" I asked, picking some grass and throwing it into the wind. \n\n\"Of course, I know exactly who you lost. I've been here the whole time. We can't forget about them, though. You may be zen and collected, but they are not. They *were not* anything, other than thieves and madmen until you gave them a cause to join.\" Marge threw her rifle on the ground and sat down next to me. \"When we leave here, the war is over. We won, but freedom can drive men crazy as well.\"\n\nShe lay down, her auburn hair, a dark blanket against the grass. \n\nI sat back to join her. The night was slowly rolling in while the day came to an end. \n\n\"So what am I supposed to do now,\" I asked, \"vet everyone boarding the ships? Tell them, 'thanks for fighting, but we can't trust you on the new planet. You're going to have to stay here and die.' I'm sure that will go over well.\"\n\nMarge turned her head towards me. \"All I'm saying is that you can't assume we're all united now. We're leaving Earth together, but it's more out of necessity than choice. When people have a choice again on this new planet, you can't assume we'll stay united.\"\n\nI sat up and looked over the plains below. The people were readying supplies on the ships. The lamps of the tents slowly flickered on and the makeshift city came to light. Tomorrow we would all be gone and what remained would be blasted into oblivion. \n\n\"Do you already have a plan?\" I asked. Marge smiled.\n\n\"Of course,\" she said. \"We're going to make sure our allies are always close. All the ships with them we'll keep together, so when we land, we won't have to worry about any instant revolts.\"\n\n\"Revolts? We won't even have a government yet to revolt.\"\n\n\"But you're still seen as the leader. The great man that led his people to a brave new world. Once you're gone, anyone with a sharp tongue could take over. We're all still human after all.\"\n\n\"And you know who our allies are?\" I asked. \n\n\"I have ideas, and that's the best we can do right now. I can work through the night and try and organize everything for the departure tomorrow. But I won't if you do not want me to,\" Marge said. She grabbed her rifle and began to collect her bags for the walk back to the camp.\n\n\"'We are still human after all',\" I sighed. \"I'll trust you on this one.\" \n\nI gathered my bag and gun, taking out my flashlight now that the night had almost taken over. From the camp came three gunshots. Marge turned to me.\n\n\"Perhaps they decided not to wait until we landed. Remember what I said if anything should go wrong.\"\n\nWe ran towards the camp, 12 hours left before humanity's departure from Earth. ",
"\"Sure I do.\" Jamie said. She scratched idly at her chin. \"But what's the point of dwelling on it, you know?\"\n\n\"Sure.\" Chris said, taking a gulp of his beer. \"Sure.\"\n\n\"What?\" She said.\n\n\"I don't know. It just seems a little cold, to just move on like that. It was a special time for us.\"\n\nJamie laughed. Chris was always sentimental. \n\n\"Baby, you know it meant the world to me, but we've done so much since!\" \nShe smiled at him, kissed his cheek.\n\n\"Yeah...yeah you're right.\" He said. \"I guess my first meant a bit more to me is all.\" He finished the beer. Jamie looked at him, a slight frown forming. She reached out and gently held his arm. \n\n\"Let's go make some more memories baby, okay?\" She said.\nHe looked at her and smiled. \n\n\"Okay\".\n\nThey went down to the basement, where the family were tied up. The kids started screaming and the mother cried. \n\n\"Which one do you fancy?\" Jamie asked, kissing Chris on the cheek again, playfully biting his bottom lip. Chris looked at them all, crouched down, smelled them. He reckoned the mother was at her prime. \n\n\"Let's have her tonight,\" he said. ",
"A gentle nudge on the shoulder of Scoutmaster Brian Tessari broke his wistful gaze towards the faded photo of the first ever West Liberty Honor Scout troop. He was always amazed at how far they had come in 35 years, especially considering how long it took him to convince the Public Affairs Committee to relax the town's child labor laws. \n\n\"Do you still think about what you did?\" Honor Scout Director of Commerce Tony Leopold asked, gesturing back towards the old picture hanging on the wall. \"The influence you had on their lives. Those boys are all dads now - well, most of them anyway.\" Tony tapped the photo on the face of a young Peter Sherman and chuckled, remembering the animated Disqualification Meeting with the Sherman family after a fellow Honor Scout saw Peter purchasing the Flashdance soundtrack at the local record store. \n\nBrian laughed and put his hand on Tony's shoulder. \"Thanks, Tony. But don't forget that it was a group effort. You, Ron... hell, who knows if this whole thing ever takes off without Mrs. Wellington and her sewing machine.\" Edna Wellington, God bless her, spent countless hours perfecting the designs of the various Honor Scout badges after her husband passed away. Brian could still remember how her tasteful accents of gold thread flickered in the solemn candlelight of the first Young Capitalist Badge ceremony. \n\nAnd now, to be reminiscing over this photo in the Honor Scout's new grand lodge, built through the efforts of Troop 15's tireless search for discounted Chinese lumber and Troop 27's gracious sacrifice of their past two summer vacations in pursuit of their collective Bootstrap Badge, well... it truly was a special night filled with firm handshakes and well-pleated pants.\n\n---\n\nEarn your Man of Letters badge by reading more stories at /r/highpothetically.",
"######[](#dropcap)\n\nHe turned and paused to glance at her, his green-gray eyes scanning her up and down. He always did that, Faith realized, no matter the person. It was as if he were a starving wolf in winter, hungry and wary against all signs of danger. He had a lean, cold air about him, like a coming thunderstorm or blizzard. His green cloak was stained by mud and frayed by the careless whisk of many a mountain breeze. He had a rifle slung over his shoulder, its barrel and buttstock wrapped in worn hessian burlap. \n\n\"Think about what?\" Hilary Flint asked, his voice flat,and slightly nasally in the accent typical of those from the lands around the Inner Seas. Faith shrugged.\n\n\"They say you massacred three hundred Regulars at the Battle of Fort Velienieau after they had surrendered. Is it true?\"\n\n\"Of sorts,\" admitted Flint, easing himself down against a fallen log to take a drink of water. \"I shot them, yes. But only after one of those surrendering Regulars killed my Lieutenant with a knife hidden in his boot. I killed that murdering bastard myself, spilled his guts out onto the ice and slush of the parade ground with my sword. For his perfidy I had no choice but kill his comrades.\"\n\n\"For the crimes of one, you punished hundreds? What kind of justice is that?\" asked Faith.\n\n\"You seem to be under the illusion that war can be just,\" snapped Flint. \"There's nothing just about it, it's dirty and poisonous, corrupts every it touches. There were fifty of us Rangers. Fifty to watch over three hundred. There was no way we could've looked after six times our number, even with automatic weapons. We had no food, were four weeks from the nearest outpost. It was almost a favor that that fucker killed my officer; saved us the trouble of having to march them a hundred and eighty miles across mountain and rivers. \n\n\"This isn't some noble tournament or chivalrous battle: this is war. People die, Faith. And it doesn't matter how they die be it from bullets, blades, or bombs. If you think I have trouble sleeping at night because of what I've done, you're dead wrong. It's only because of what I've done that I'm able to sleep at night.\"",
"\"Do you still think about what you did?\"\n\nI don't know how to answer. I don't know if she wants me to say yes and I'm so sorry and I was in a bad place and I regret it so much. Or if she wants a no and for me to tell her I've moved past it, that I've closed that chapter and I'm a better person than before. I don't know if she wants me to dwell on it or if it'll be better to act like I'm not the same man. \n\n\"What?\" \n\n\"Don't do that. You heard what I said. I know you heard me.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?\"\n\n\"Do you regret anything?\"\n\n\"Like what?\"\n\n\"Please. Please don't play dumb. You know what I'm talking about.\"\n\nI can't look at her. I stare at the drops of water trickling down my glass, staining the table. \n\n\"Do you want me to spell it out for you? Do you really want me to say it? We both know you're not a fucking idiot. You know what I'm asking.\"\n\nI fight the urge to get defensive, to deflect this conversation so we can pretend to forget the point of meeting. \n\n\"Please just answer me.\"\n\nI manage to glance up, only to see tears trickling down her face, smearing her makeup. \n\nI take the breath to start telling her what I hope is the right answer but she keeps her monologue going. \n\n\"I know I do. I think about what you did every day. Every fucking day. Whether I want to or not, I'm reminded of you by everything I see. Every song I hear, I think of you. Every time I eat, I think of whether or not you'd be too picky to try it. Every movie, every show I watch, I think of lying on your lap on the couch. When it's cold, I think of your jacket, your hand around mine. Literally every fucking thing in my life hurts because of you.\"\n\nI'm crying. Eyes closed, head down, trying to hide my shame. \n\n\"So you know what, I don't want you to answer. I don't know why you agreed to meet if you were just going to be like this again. Maybe this is what I needed, to see you doing the same shit as before, not being able to talk to me about anything.\"\n\n\"Im sorry.\" Im surprised my voice still works. \n\n\"I don't really care. I don't care if you think about what happened.\" \n\nShe gets up, thinks about saying something else, but changes her mind. I watch her walk away, out of the restaurant. \n\nI wish I knew how to talk to her. I wish I had the courage to apologize. I'd tell her that I do think about it. I think about what I did as much as she does. But now I'll have something new to regret, something else to haunt me. I'll think about what I didn't do tonight. ",
"\"Nah,\" I said, tossing back the last of my bourbon. \"In fact I don't even remember what I did.\" The bar was dimly lit, too loud, too hot. Stereotypical sort of place for a stereotypical sort of guy and I motioned to the bartender for another and he took his goddamn time before coming down to my side of the bar. The girl beside me, she was asking me all sorts of stupid questions. Asking about who I was, where I'd been. She'd been asking about my divorce, about why it ended, about what she'd done and what I'd done and wanting me to wrap up years worth of experience into a single tidy succinct statement about what my contribution to the downfall had been. Did I still think about it? Ha. Did I still think about it. Every goddamn day and the bartender refilled my drink and I downed it and I mumbled, *another*, and the girl beside me laughed and said, \"Damn, you really like that whiskey.\"\n\nWhat had I done? Shit. Love isn't an hour-and-a-half chick flick with a clear theme. Love isn't a science that can be easily modeled. Love is a messy web of comments and gestures, of sweet kisses and bitter arguments, of differences and solutions and broken doors and hearts and fist-shaped holes through walls. Love wasn't a battleground -- it was the battle. It was as fluid and unpredictable as a waterfall and I hadn't figured out any other end to it but the rocks below where the water inevitably crashes and the river picks up the pieces. So what had I done? I motioned to the bartender, who was trying his best to ignore me as he hit on a couple of young, hot blondes who laughed at his jokes down on the other side of the bar and I murmured hardly loud enough for anybody to hear, \"another.\"\n\nSo what had I done? I don't know. Years of trying to improve myself. Years of tearing myself down with alcohol. Years of fighting the good fight, whatever the fuck that was. Years of trying to make it work. Years of thinking of myself.\n\nThe bartender refilled my drink once again, god bless his pretty little soul, and the girl beside my yammered on about something and I nodded in quiet contemplation but the only thought in my mind was her original question of, \"Do you still think about what you did?\"\n\nWhat did she know about what I'd done. What could she possibly know? Was I selfish? Sure. But who wasn't? Love is a tug-of-war of wills, a battle between the strong and the weak, and when that equilibrium is suddenly upturned and the rope starts making headway in your opponent's direction, that's when things get real messy. And they had. And I'd reacted like any self-respecting man would. With broken vases and insults hurled like bullets from a sling and quick jabs to innocent walls who'd never even seen it coming.\n\nSo what had I done? I'd destroyed that house, that quaint little piece-of-shit house that we'd spent years building. I'd torn it down and seen how cheaply-made it all was, how little value there was in the scraps. I'd thrown the photo albums in the trash because memories are as good as the moldy leftovers in the fridge when it all comes crashing down anyway. What had I done? What had she done? The answers to these questions would take five years to tell. It was not as neatly-packaged of an answer as the girl at the bar beside me would like to hear.\n\n\"You wanna get out of here?\" she asked.\n\n\"Yeah,\" I said, resigning myself to whatever the next rollercoaster of lust and love and self-destruction had to offer me. \"Yeah, I do.\""
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[WP] Autocorrect changed your sentence from "I'm good" to "I'm God" an angel appears and says "There you are!"
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"Responding to a simple question of How are you, resulting in an autocorrect of I am god; I was just way too tired to actually reread what I sent... \n\nMy eyelids fluttered open, when I felt as if I were not alone.. A dark figure staring at me from the corner of my bed.. The closer he got, the more I saw the features of him as he glowed.. He was basically a living breathing glow stick of a person.. I tried to scream but nothing came out even though he put his finger onto my lips in an effort to shush me..\n\nI looked at him, beckoning onto him to provide me reasons as to why this being came to me as I was trying to fall asleep at three am after watching a few movies due to a lack of needing slumber.. \n\nI wore normal pajamas set in light periwinkle blue, with white stars dotted upon them.. His garments were weird.. He has a long flowing high collared shirt that buttons down the middle with long flowing sleevesand very tight Jean like pants.. And sandals.. I can't figure out the hue of this trespassers skin due to his ability to shine like a star.. \n\nHe told me, \"You are god\"\n\"Haha, I wish.. I'm not that special\" I responded.\n\"Aha, but you are indeed special.. Don't doubt yourself god\" he almost shrieked in a level sounding voice, continuing \" if you, yourself, doubt.. Then how will us , followers, be able to have belief in ourselves?\"\n\nI stared at him, not blinking, \"This is a dream..\"\nHe shook his head no. \nI closed my eyes pretending to sleep..\n\"I know you are awake..\" he seethed as the words slipped out of his mouth.\n\nI sat up in bed, annoyed and perturbed.. I spat out \"WHAT!!! If it's not a dream or an illusion, then I'm able to do anything I desire? That's all you wanted to say ?? Then you will leave me alone so I can sleep???? \" \nHe shook his head yes, then noted \"if you need anything then just call me, for my name is Q3aD..\"\n\nI closed my eyes and slept restlessly..\nThe next morning, I yawned as I tumbled out of bed.. I decided to watch another nice bollywood flick but my eyes closed before intermission due to my exhaustion.. \n\nBEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeppppPppppPpP\n\nI awoke to the sound of horns honking, flabbergasted as to how I got to the side of the roadways instead of the couch. I heard foreign accents and words.. Holy cow!! I can teleport !!! I was simply happy with being able to walk around India although I teleported back home to change into a nice clothes.. And grab some American bills, so I can pay for awesome trinkets..\nI decided that I would use this power that I was granted in small ways that would go unnoticed by others.. ",
"\"There you are!\" \n\nQuivering I attempted to respond but my voice box failed to cooperate. What seemed like years went by as I tried to summon any kind of retort. Then suddenly a man in black stepped forth. Dressed as a preacher yet wrinkled and tired. \n\n\"Here I am!\" Shouted the down trodden man of God. \"I am Jesse Custer hear me\" bellowed from him in a voice that was beautiful, like song birds singing on a brisk spring morning. Yet deep and dark as the blackest night. Equally wonderful and melancholy. \n\nAs the figure seemed to shrink it tried to scream back \"I am the...\"\n\nBut in that moment reddit got too real and I really gotta go to bed. Not my best but fuck it I'm tired. Down vote the shit out of this I earned it. ",
"\"There you are!\" \n\n*Mother....* I figure it's best not to complete that thought. I silently curse my phone before letting out a heavy sigh. It does not surprise me that the technology of my creations would bring about my downfall. \n\n\"Uriel.\" I reply without looking up from my coffee. \n\n\"We have been searching for you for who knows how long. It took an entire choir listening to find you. It's like you didn't want to be found.\" \n\n\"Imagine that.\" \n\nUriel sits down across from me at the diner and I realize I'm forced to look up at my son; I'd be a terrible father if I denied him and I've only made that mistake once. \n\nHe's grinning ear to ear and I can't help but feel sorry for the boy. He was always an optimistic soul and here I am debating on bringing his world crashing down by telling him I'm not interested in going back. \n\n\"We could really use your help.\" \n\nI took a long sip of my coffee, \"You've been doing fine without me these past few hundred years. I did put in a good checks and balances system for my son to follow.\" \n\nUriels nods, \"He's doing really well to but its not, you. We miss you father.\" \n\nHe's so genuine it makes me hurt a little bit. I pay for my coffee and touch the waitresses hand momentarily. In an instant I see her life flash in front of me. A child with stage one cancer, a alcoholic husband, and more debt than any girl her age has right to have. I have to blink away a tear but let her go on about her buisness. Uriel stares at me dumbfounded. \n\n\"What?\" \n\n\"Aren't you going to help her?\" \n\n\"I did, I gave her a twenty dollar tip on a cup of coffee.\" I reply gathering up my coat. Uriel jumps to his feet to follow me and I am not going to tell him no. \n\nThe streets of this small town are never busy and thats why I liked it. As I watched my creations grow and shape the world I felt myself pulled towards these places. It's the slice of life that is as close to my *design* as it could be. Everyone here knows everyone and no one seems bothered by me which makes it even better. \n\n\"I mean you could really help her. I know that you've asked us to avoid too many miracles but they lady is suffering.\" he said. \n\nI shrugged, \"She is but she is also working hard to make things better. This is her third job, before the diner she works as a bookkeeper at the farm and she's a janitor at the hospital so she can spend more time with her son.\" \n\n\"But the husband.\" \n\n\"Is a terrible man but all men are terrible and good at the same time. When he's not drunk he does right by her. He has his demons, he goes to AA, he tries.\" I snapped. \"That is all we can ask of them Uriel is that they try.\" \n\nUriel, sweet Uriel, is incapable of understanding the deep nature of humanity. I can see it in his golden eyes and it makes me regret not giving the other Angels just a small spark of understanding. But again, I only make those kind of mistakes once. \n\n\"Her son will be dead soon.\" \n\n\"Maybe, maybe not. I could intervene directly and cure him of his cancer. I hear her prayers every night and it takes every last bit of strength in me to not simply sweep away the hideous thing that is inside that poor boy.\" I ball up my fists, \" He is innocent, children are innocent, and yet still this world creates things that will utterly destory them. Am I to cure every ill, am I to forgive every sin and fix every problem in this world!\" \n\nA lamp light bursts over head and I let out a long breathe trying to put away the wrath I felt building in me. \n\n\"That is what they want.\" Uriel said, \"That is what they pray to us for.\" \n\nI smile, \"Do you give it to them?\" \n\nUriel pauses, \"Well no.\" \n\n\"Exactly. My child this world was a perfect place once. When I first formed it into existence there was peace. Creatures great and small evolved and died before my eyes while I crafted the very essence of man, in my image, so they say. The truth is I crafted an idea. I breathed the first spark and from there I let the fire go where it will.\" \n\nI put my hand on his shoulder, \"I did not create cancer, I did not create sickness and illness, they exist because they must exist. It is a cycle that the world has put in place not soon after I shaped it. If I were to cure every sickness what kind of God would I be.\" \n\n\"A loving one?\" Uriel quips. \n\nI can't help but laugh, \"Maybe. But I love them for their ability to soldier on. To do good deeds in my name. I love the ones who worship others because that to is okay, I love those who do good deeds simply because it is right to do. I hate those who take life, who spit evil in the faces of other men and yet I choose to do nothing because intervening would mean changing the way of things.\" \n\n\"You did once. You flooded the world.\" \n\nThe smile falls from my face, \"A mistake I swore I'd never make again. My son is good at what he does, he guides and teaches and those who listen to his wisdom would realize they are good tales that all men of any faith can follow. Uriel, do you know what the one and greatest truth that I wish I could give to man is?\" \n\nUriel shakes his head. \n\n\"Don't be a dick.\" I smile patting him on the back, \" Be good and kind to others, do not kill and most of all do not be afraid to make mistakes. I've not abandoned them, or you. I simply came to watch them grow and if you took the time to do so. You would see that they need very little help after all.\" \n\nUriel nodded and said nothing. I could see he was trying to wrap his brain around the concepts I'd given him as we walked down the street. I let him join me for a drink at the local bar where everyone knows my name and together, for a brief moment, we were just men. \n\n\n\n",
"You have barely hit the 'send' button when you hear a lyrical voice exclaim behind you \"There you are!\" \n\nYou are not proud of how high pitched your scream is. Or that you fell of of your chair. \"What the shit!\" You scream, crawling away from the winged, teleporting man with a jawline that could cut diamonds.\n\nHe frowns, and you want to weep, suddenly, for no good reason. You caused him sadness. (He, you remind yourself, caused you a minor cardiac arrest, so now you're even.) \"My Lord,\" he says, \"such words are beneath You.\"\n\nYou open and close your mouth. \"I'm not a boy,\" you finally manage. \n\n\"I apologise, Your Grace.\" The ridiculously beautiful man says. You nod dumbly, still staring. You don't know what to focus on - his perfect face, his golden wings, or the fact that *he just teleported into your office.*\n\n\"I think,\" you stutter, trying desperately to remember what you were saying. He must have an amazing plastic surgeon, you decide. And the wings will be a prop. And the teleporting... you're still working on the teleporting. \"I mean... I'm not who you think I am.\"\n\n\"Your Grace, there's no need to pretend,\" he clucks in a chastising voice, \"I've seen your admission.\"\n\nYou swallow. \"Ad-admission? I really think there's been a mix up-\"\n\nThe... being? *Angel*? Shakes his head sadly. \"I've seen the tee-ext, Your Grace.\" For a moment, you have no idea what he's referring to.\n\n\"The- the text?\" You stutter. \n\nHe snaps his spotless white gloves. \"That's the one, My Lady. How clever You are.\" He holds out your iPhone - you have no idea how he got it as you hadn't seen him pick it up. But none of this is making much sense. On the screen is your boss asking if you want the intern to pick you up some coffee on the Starbucks run. \n\nYou're sure you wrote 'I'm good'. You'd already had an espresso this morning, and too much caffeine makes you all jittery. But the screen shows a reply of 'I'm God.'\n\n\"Autocorrect.\" You blurt. \n\nThe angel blinks once, twice. \"What?\"\n\n\"Give it here.\" You say, finally standing up from your backwards crab position. Dumbly, he lets you take it.\n\n\"Look,\" you say, and type *omw*. You press the enter button and suddenly it becomes a grammatically correct sentence - *On my way!*\n\nSuddenly, the angel looks very embarrassed. \"Ah,\" he says, his cheeks a deep bronze. \"Right. Sorry about that.\" \n\nYou open your mouth, ready to ask what happens now, but you blink, and you're alone. You take a deep breath, and slide back into your chair as a text comes through from your boss. \"Typo! No coffee?\"\n\nYou type back your reply, shaking. \"Changed mind. Get me an Irish coffee. Stat.\"\n\nThe next thing you do is disable autocorrect. Then, you begin gently thunking your head against your desk. \"What,\" you say to nobody, \"the fuck?\" \n\n",
"I have been torturing the poor bastard for two days now. The first thing I did when I was bestowed with God's power was have my brother run over by a car. Oh, he didn't die. All of his limbs were just ripped off. \n\nDid you know, there's a certain medical anomaly where you can stay conscious even though you are detached from most of your body. The doctors didn't either. It's not possible, they said, as they tried to redirect his gaze away from his bleeding stubs.\nBut those are the kinds of things you can when you are God. And that's the kind of pain you go through when you seduce my girlfriend. \n\nMichael was oddly fine with my actions. The angel only watched with his stern, carved-out-of-marble face. \n\n\"Our Father has given you power for mysterious reasons,\" he told me. \"You may do as you please. He does suggest you use it for the good of the world.\"\n\n\"It's a beautiful thing that suggestions are not requirements,\" I had told him.\n\nAnd now he waited quietly behind me in my brother's hospital room. \n\nI caressed my brother's hair. In one gentle tug a waft of his bouncy, blonde hair came off his scarred head. Harold woke with a sudden start, groaning through the oxygen mask. His eyes darted around the room as he convulsed. Whatever was left of legs crashed against the bed, his chest heaved up and down, and his mouth frothed. \n\n\"What's wrong, Harold?\" I asked him. \"Did someone turn off your morphine?\" \n\nHis wild eyes found me in the white room. I made sure he could fully sense my presence amidst the pain. I made sure he knew I was the cause of it. \n\n\"I wonder who would do such a thing?\" \n\nI slapped the stump at the end of his right arm. He almost launched himself from the bed, and his howl was loud enough to burst even my godly ears. \n\n\"Do you know who would take away something so precious from someone else, Michael?\" The angel turned his bored eyes, and barely shook his head. His halo following the motion of his head. I turned back to my dear brother.\n\n\"Do you know anyone who would be so wretched as to STEAL something that brought someone else so much happiness?\" I spit at him. As soon as the liquid his chest, it bore through his flesh. Smoke rose from where the acid entered his dying body. \n\n\"I do, Harold. In fact, I know two.\" \n\n\"He is in this room,\" said the doctor, as he opened the door. Behind him was a girl with red lips, long brown hair, and a heart that was blacker than Satan's. Normally, the hospital wouldn't allow visitors for a patient in Harold's position. But my dear brother had made a miraculous recovery, and the hospital was feeling unexpectedly sympathetic towards his situation. \n\n\"Oh my god,\" Willa mumbled, her voice cracking at the sight of poor Harold. He had stopped convulsing now, but his eyes remembered the pain. \n\nThe doctor left the room. \n\n\"Baby, are you ok?\" she asked the man with no limbs, kneeling beside him. \n\nThat's what she asked me after I found out. Four words was all she could after a week of no contact. Through text no less. But that text was the best thing to happen to me. And it would be the worst thing to happen to her.\n\nWilla gently placed a hand of his chest, where the acid wounds used to be.\n\n\"I will be here for you, Harold,\" she said. \"I will be here with you forever.\" \n\n\"Ha!\" I cried. \"That's easy to fucking say when he's clearly got a day left at best. Always making the easy promises aren't you, bitch?\" \n\nShe couldn't hear me, but Harold could. \n\n\"And I hope your brother can put all of this behind him. For you.\" \n\nUnbelievable. She slept with him once. ONCE. And now she's in love with him. They were barely finished by the time I had walked through the door. But I guess that's all it took for Harold to completely seduce her. The bastard.\n\nWilla grabbed a pillow lying by Harold's side. Her quivering fingers closed around the sides as she placed it over my brother's face. A small moan escaped her as she shoved down harder against the pillow. She wasn't allowed to scream. She wasn't allowed to let out the agony. For once, she had to know what it felt like to have everything you loved slip out of your fingers. \n\nI would make sure she remembers the violent convulsions of Harold's body, as the last of his left him. If I had any say in it, he would be going to Hell. I was yet to explore that region of my newfound powers. \n\nWilla's lips bled, tearing from the pressure of being pushed together. The drops fell on the white pillow, spreading quickly over the fabric. Harold's shaking was coming to a stop. \n\nIn those last moments, Willa put more of her weight on the pillow. Harold had lost his breath a long time ago, the oxygen mask was removed before the pillow was on him. His heart stopped and I fainted. \n\nThe pressure was like the weight of a thousand mountains. Everything was black. I was shaking just like Michael, but it felt as if I was put in a coffin three times too small. \n\nWhen the pressure was removed, I took in lungfuls of air. Michael stood over me, a bloodstained pillow in his hand. Beside him was a man that was eerily similar to him, with the same stern face, white hair and golden eyes. But his halo was red. \n\n\"I knew he would end up here!\" said the man with the red halo.\n\nWe were in a cavern from what I could gather, with the room lit up by a distant orange light. I was paralyzed on the hard floor, too busy with breathing to look around. \n\n\"Yes, yes,\" said Michael. \"You have invested well, Lucifer. It's very rare to find someone who can fail the test this badly.\"\n\n\"How did Father pick this one?\" \n\n\"A text he sent was autocorrected from 'I'm good' to 'I'm God'\"\n\nLucifer laughed. \"Father really makes it harder for you to track these down, doesn't he?\" He laid a hand on Michael's shoulder. \n\nMichael moved his hand away. \"It's no matter. There aren't many experiments left. We are almost done recruiting.\" \n\nLucifer sighed. \"We are. I won't get to see you anymore, dear brother.\"\n\n\"Yes. I have to take my leave. I'll send over 100,000 unbroken souls to you by today.\"\n\n\"And don't forget our personal wager.\" \n\n\"I won't.\" \n\n\"It's always nice seeing you, Michael. Say hello to Father for me.\" \n\nMichael nodded. He sprouted wings and vanished. \n\nLucifer picked me up by collar, bringing my face next to his. \n\n\"Welcome to Hell, Harkan Rumsfeld.\"\n",
"*Predictive text manifolds reveal the Truth of the world,* the angel says. *Reveal intention.* It is wheels within wheels within wheels, the rims of it lined with blazing eyes, every revolution bringing with it a dizzying change in perspective. I am held in its gaze, pinned to the axes of an ever-rotating world. My eyes are dragged irresistibly up into my skull. I want to throw up. *You Who are Holy and Righteous above all things. You have been found.*\n\n\"A-a-a-a mistake,\" I stutter. My fingers twitch as if they are still tapping at the screen. My body is trembling like a leaf in the wind. Is this what a seizure feels like?\n\n*There are no mistakes,* says the angel. *The world is Data, expression of Divine intent. Would a benevolent God have allowed E̡X̵̶̛͢͡ children to suffer?* There is a shuddering glitch in its voice, the wheels grinding together, brass against brass. It continues, unperturbed. *Expression follows standard character sets, constraint models, cardinalities. You have fat-fingered the phone of life. Free will is the totality of the externally-imposed defects of a physical frame.* Its eyes swivel onto me. They are like burning coals. *We see only Your Soul.*\n\n\"I-I-I-I-I-\" and then my voice is being modulated out of my throat. The air molecules align. I am speaking with a new voice. \"I'm good.\" \n\n*You are Good,* the angel confirms. Its wheels are shifting apart, unlocking. Within, there is nothing but the fire. *You are God. All error now falls aside. You have been Corrected.*\n\n\"And why me?\" I say. There is no distinction between my voice and the natural vibrations of the air, between that and the tenor of the world. Language has been reduced to birdsong. I am staring into the sun. \n\n*You are a Word,* says the sun, the angle, the tilt between the wheel and the flame. *An arbitrary assemblage of characters intended to communicate Meaning. Your Truth is only realized by a fellow User, one who shares your language.* Concepts are falling apart. Language is dissolving. I cannot think of the word I mean. *Typos are irrelevant. Misspellings are irrelevant. Communication is achieved not through Correctness, adherence to validation rules. It is achieved through the impulse towards contact between two human souls.* I nowlonager kno ho wto spaek how tto rite howto spelel\n\n*We Understand what You mean.*"
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[WP]A guardian spirit was summoned to safeguard a very valuable treasure. 50 years of nobody coming for it later, spirit's opinion about value of treasure changes.
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"\"You seek treasure.\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"What, then, do you ask of me, mortal?\"\n\n\"I need help.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"My world is ending.\"\n\n\"What concern is that of immortals?\"\n\n\"It was said that you have guarded something, forever, that will sustain us. There is no other place to turn. What can you give to me?\"\n\n\"There is one treasure your people have lost, that is the thing I have. But you must ask for it by name. The condition is not mine, but am sworn to uphold it, though the thing is worthless.\"\n\n\"How am I to guess?\"\n\n\"What does your people lack? Why is your world ending?\"\n\n\"We lack fear and reverence.\"\n\n\"Not true; you have come to me for help, even while the others have no fear of the ending.\"\n\n\"We lack love and joy.\"\n\n\"Joyless, yes, but love you have in full.\"\n\n\"I don't know what we lack.\"\n\n\"What is the thing that fooled you into coming to this mountain, all this long way? What was the thing that drove you here?\"\n\n\"Vision?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Wonder?\"\n\n\"Not that, either.\"\n\n*\"Hope?\"*\n\n\"Yes, that is the thing.\" A box materialized before them. \"Open it.\"\n\nHe did. Inside was an empty, wooden box.\n\n\"And now you have used its worth up, as well.\""
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[WP] Santa Claus, The Easter Bunny, Cupid, and the Tooth Fairy are all real. Jesus, God, and your parents are not.
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"_Dear Diary,_\n\nMommy took me to that big fancy building with the colorful windows again today. I think she said that I should play with my sins, or something. I don't really know who my sins are, but I don't really want to play with them if I have to kneel on the floor like this. \n\nEvery time we go there, Mommy and Daddy go up to the old man in the funny hat and eat some bread. I asked if I could have some of it, but Mommy says that I don't deserve to eat the body of Geezuss. Who is he, anyway, and why were they eating him? That doesn't sound very tasty. \n\nWhen we got home, Mommy told me to go to my room. I was kinda hungry since I couldn't eat Mr. Geezuss's body, but I knew that arguing with Mommy would just make her mad. Either way, I wouldn't get dinner. I went up to my room and started writing this stuff in my diary.\n\nI can hear Mommy and Daddy arguing downstairs. Even though it happens every day, I still don't like it. They taught us in school that yelling at people is bad. I hope they stop it soon, because they're really loud.\n\nSince it's almost Christmas, my teacher taught us about how Santa leaves presents under the Christmas tree. When I told her that my parents never put a Christmas tree up, she told me that Santa would deliver the presents to the school and that I could pick it up after winter break ended. \n\nA few months ago, we learned about the tooth fairy, but I've never seen it leave money under my pillow. My tooth is always there in the morning. I'm sure the tooth fairy's just really busy. \n\nLast Valentine's Day, we learned about Cupid. The teacher told us that Cupid shot people with arrows to make them love each other. Maybe the reason Mommy and Daddy yell all the time is because the arrows hurt and they're trying to take them out. I'm glad they still love each other, though.\n\nMy favorite one is the Easter Bunny. Every Easter, we get free candy at school! I get to eat it all at once too, since Daddy doesn't want me to bring it home. Sometimes I get sick from eating too much, but it's really yummy so I don't care.\n\nI like pretending that I'm in a different world sometimes. One where I can have fun and play with all those magic people I learned about in school. One where I don't have to hear Mommy yelling about money and Daddy smelling like smoke all the time. One where I don't have to sit in those uncomfortable wooden benches in the big building and listen to the old man in front talk for a long time.\n\nThat world is really fun!\n\nSincerely, \n\nAnabel"
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[WP] Aliens find us and think we are so tiny and adorable that they treat us like little pets, but for whatever reason we all love it
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"Six weeks ago they had landed, declared themselves delegates from some intergalaxial UN that had so happened to hear one of our broadcasts. It took a few days to figure all this out because they had landed in the Milwaukee comic convention and only spoke Portuguese. Once that was all sorted out various leaders from across the globe came to greet the visitors; visitors with twelve arm-like claws bristling from their sides and a penchant for Brazilian telenovelas. After a week or so of tentative, hesitant summits tensions began to mount on the human side of things. A great and noble Finish minister of state threatened one of the beings with a smuggled pistol. Surprised the being let out a charming squawk and unfurled its claws. The bone appendage reached rapidly behind both the minister and his Angolan interpreter. The assembled body descended into a panic. Guns were drawn by every guard and alarms sounded. It looked like humanity's first interactions with extraterrestrials were going to end a bit poorly.\n\nThat's when the Finn moaned. The room as a whole paused. The Angolan moaned. The room took a cautious step forward. One after another the delegates wrapped their claws around elder statesman after elder statesman. The world was subdued not by force but we are subdued and the world is at peace.\n\nWhy you ask? because they give great back scratches and if you'll excuse me I'm late for my walk.",
"When I think about it in retrospect I would say that this all started with the cats. I'm fairly certain that history will report that the cats were the first earth beings to be contacted by the cozy ones. About a month before the cozy ones came to earth the cats started speaking the same languages as their owners. \n\nIt was a nice time. After a few days all parties adjusted to the change in communication and realized that it changed absolutely nothing about our relationships. In fact it only strengthened our preconceived feelings about our cats' personalities. A lot of them are just sarcastic assholes, it made watching tv together less lonely. \n\nBy week three most cat owners were spending more time with their cats than they ever had before. By week four cat owners were more or less completely isolated from their peers. \n\nThe cats still meowed sometimes. Any cat owner, who had long since memorized the different meows and what they mean would tell you that the meows that occurred after speech was obtained were entirely different than before. Some would argue that they didn't mean anything at all. My theory is that the cats were communicating with the cozy ones, relaying information about how we do things here on earth. I wouldn't be surprised to find out that cats were always spies sent by the cozy ones when they initially found earth in ancient times and they've just been bidding time for their true masters to return. \n\nI have no way of knowing who else agrees with my theory about the cats. I have been more or less isolated from the other humans since the arrival of the cozy ones. That is why I'm hoping these blog posts get views. Unfortunately, from what I understand the cozy ones communicate with each other telepathically and thus have no use for having wifi or internet connections in their homes. \n\nI must say that I don't miss my old life all that much. I spent all of it working crazy hours in a tiny desk before picking up some fast food and cozying up with my cat and some HBO. Now, I spend about 50-70% of my day in bed. My cozy one, who I call Carl for lack of any ability to understand what he calls himself, feeds me a smoothy in the morning and a burrito at night like clockwork. Sometimes, if he's feeling generous or if he leaves me alone for a long time he'll give me chocolate and/or weed as a treat. I never want for anything. \n\nWhen he is in the house, Carl likes to watch me sleep, stroke my hair, and sing what I assume are songs in his native language. I am greatly amused by this. At night we snuggle together and I feel like I am being protected. \n\nI don't have to work, I won't go hungry, and I've very comfortable. Overall, I like that a cozy one has brought me away from the politics and hardships of earth living. I do feel lonely though. I wish I had someone who I could talk to, someone who understands me, who I can share my experiences and my dreams with. \n\nI wish I was able to keep my cat, princess fluff. "
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[WP] My mom gave me a piece of paper and an essay question in a dream last night, and I thought I would share it with you guys. What would it be like in a hurricane from a baby dragon's point of view?
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"She hatched in the eye of a hurricane, when there was only quiet, and a discolored sky above. Her violet scales never glittered, for there was no sun for them to reflect their brilliant colour off of. She never saw the island she hatched on for there was a yellow haze surrounding everything. This truly was a sad thing, because the island she hatched on was a beautiful island, lush with bright flora and fauna. The wildlife, while in hiding at the time, were mischievous and loved to make trouble. The island was perfect for the little dragon to grow up on, but was at that point the center of a hurricane. \n\n\nThe first thing that she did, after surveying the terrain, was raise her beautiful wings and try to fly. She made it about half a foot off the ground before a great gust of wind came and knocked her back down to the ground, where she stayed for the next three days. She managed to find a cave near a wildenfruit bush. The bush was the only source of comfort she had, for it was the only bit of colour visible other than the dragon’s own purple hue and the drab green that the bushes and trees had been reduced to.\n\n\nIn the two times she tried to fly after that, she was brutally taken to the ground by the unseen gusts of wind and sharp rain drops. \n\n\n“Perhaps the fact that she had wings, and instinct was telling her to use them, didn’t mean she should,” she thought to herself after what would be her final attempt at flying. Dejectedly, she crawled back to her cave, battered and bruised. The only thing she did for the next day was eat wildenfruit and not think about the failed attempts at flying from the previous few days. Something in her gut told her that she was meant to fly, and that perhaps one day she would. After all, the wings would have been useless were she not meant to fly. \n\n\nWhen the air came to a standstill, when the clouds cleared, and when the sun was shown in the sky, the little purple dragon was confused. \n\n“Why was the sky blue, and where did all these colours come from,” she asked silently as she saw for the first time what her island truly looked like. The trees and bushes were green again. The flora and fauna were bright colours again. The air was still again. And in the sky, right in the middle of it, was the sun, the most radiant thing that the little dragon has ever seen. \n\nPerhaps this was what spurred her on to try to fly again. She ventured out into the clearing where she had hatched and stretched out her wings for the first time in what seemed like a long time. As she managed to get herself airborne, she saw the whole island for the first time. \n\n\n“It’s so beautiful,” she thought. The only thing more beautiful than the island was her. She flew through the air, scales glittering in the sun with the beauty of a hundred galaxies. ",
"Dosse sat perched on the edge of his nest, high up in the cliffs of Agavar. His mother had left early in the morning to go hunting. She had made the nest up in the cliffs when he was but an egg, and she said it was for his protection. But Dosse didn't care about that. What he loved was the view. The clouds rolled below him like the seas his mother told him so much about. Above him the sun shone down brightly, warming his bright red scales. Dosse smiled, basking in the glow. A cold wind blew against his face, and he unfurled his wings, letting the wind run through them and stretch them out. Dosse breathed in the air, and he caught an odd scent. Was it.... r... rain? Dosse thought that's what his mother called it. He gazed out onto the horizon, and far away, above the rest of the clouds, Dosse spotted some darker clouds. They swirled around and around, dancing in the wind. Dosse felt a prick of excitement. He wanted so badly to go over and see them. His mother had forbid him to leave the nest, but he had just learned to fly. How proud would she be when he came back with tales of the dancing clouds? So Dosse jumped from the nest, stretched his wings, and let the wind carry him, his big green eyes aglow with anticipation.\n\nAs Dosse drew nearer to the storm, he began to realize that it was much farther away than he realized. He had never gone this far before. He could still turn back... but he decided against it. He would prove to his mother that he was strong and brave, just like his ancestors. As he drew nearer, the wind began to push stronger against his head. His small wings fought against it, propelling him through. Dosse began to breathe a little harder, and his wings were growing sore. But determination fueled him. He had to make it to the dancing clouds, he just had to. \n\nFinally, Dosse was close to the clouds. He gazed up at them, panting hardly. He could see their majestic swirls, clouds cascading off of one another. It was so beautiful... then a strong wind caught Dosse in the side. He tumbled in the air, wings flapping madly to try to regain control. But he couldn't. The clouds sucked him in, and Dosse found himself swirling around within them. They were eating him! He began to cry out loudly for his mother, but the wind stole his breathe away. He couldn't see. All around were just endless clouds, all swirling, all wanting to take his life. He began to cry louder, tears beginning to fall down his scaly face, only to be whisked away by the furious wind. Where was his mother? Why couldn't she hear him?\n\nDosse was tossed about in the storm for what seemed like hours. He gave up crying for his mother. He felt he would die here, with the dancing clouds, who really weren't dancing at all.\n\nFinally, Dosse was tossed out into a calm space. His exhausted wings beat against the air, regaining control. He looked, and all around were the swirling clouds. They must be surrounding him. He took a big gulp of air, and gave one last forlorn cry for his mother. Then his wings gave out, and he fell.\n\nAs Dosse raced downward, suddenly the skies were split with a deafening roar. Dosse used his last bit of strength to look upward. It was his mother! Her large shape loomed above the clouds. Seeing Dosse below, she dived downward, scooping him up in her arms seconds before he hit the ground. Dosse looked up into her face, and gave a faint, \"Thank you, momma.\"\n\nShe smiled below at him. \"I will always be here to catch you, my son.\"\n\nEdit: grammar and wording\n\n---\n\nIf you liked this, check out /r/Alias_Fakename"
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[WP] Being conscious at night time corrupts you. Insomniacs are awful people, and owls are horrific beasts...
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"I used to be good. I used to hold doors and smile at cashiers; you know, the little things that make the world go 'round. \nBut that was then. That was before the change. Now I'm pretty sure Santa Clause pulls an entire cart of coal just for me and my jump to the top of his notty list! \nIt all started one Wednesday with some magic beans. See, I'm a very successful banker. But I always try to help the little man. When people come into my bank if my staff can't help them I personally invite them into my office, sit them down with a nice cup of coffee and a scone and try to 'bend' their accounts and credit to help them. Its a good feeling, ya know?\nOh, my name is Abraham Cornwallis by the way.\nAnd one day there comes in this guy. A shabby, stinky fellow named...come to think of it he never gave me his name. But he did give me some coffee beans to open an account. \nNow I said to him \"Sir you can't open an account with these beans.\" \nAnd he says to me \"Well sure I can, you just don't want to let me.\" Then, apparently crazy and quite irate, he stormed out. I wasn't too sure what his issue was and normally when I receive a 'present' from some grizzly human with a hygienic aversion and lines of suspect grunge on their hand, I throw it out. But this guy intrigued me. I wondered at why all he wanted was to open an account with coffee beans?\nNow I don't know what possessed me next but I washed them, viciously, and did quite possibly the second grossest thing I had ever done: I put them in my grinder with a handful of other beans and made a pot of coffee. You wanna know the grossest thing I've ever done?\nI drank that coffee! \nI mean, I didn't even slow down on the stuff. I pounded cup after cup hot, fresh brew. I take a bit of cream but I used nearly all my creamer just so I could imbibe the stuff. It was surprisingly good. I'm not exactly sure what drove me to do this, but it was like one of those out of body experiences. Like I did it without thinking, just drank and drank. \nI shook my head, fully embarrassed and sat dow to lose myself in a stack of paper work.\nThat was four nights ago. I've since forgot half of what I've done (good thing to, cause I'm not sure where this blood on my tweed suit came from). All I know is I can't stand people now. They are bumbling around with no clue as to whats really going on. Misplaced concerns about what jeans to buy or how they're gonna pay for that car they want. No thoughts about the deadly, screeching owls preying on their citizens.\n\nNobody thinks of the owls. The really scary ones I mean. They keep so well hidden and devour when no one is looking. Usually people no one will miss or find out where they've gone. \nThey're much bigger, and meaner, than your standard owls. They live in the biggest trees and the highest mountains, but always in the darkest parts. They hate the light and love our flesh. They're quite smart actually. They keep hidden. I know all this now because I've been strangely informed. And if it wasn't for these beans keeping me up for nearly twenty three hours a day then I'd be as clueless as the rest of you!\nThe first time I say one was in a dark alleyway. Normally I wouldn't have walked at that time of night and certainly not in that part of town. But I felt drawn, you know (happens a lot these days)? So there I was circling around light post to light post (for some reason I count stand people to see me or I them) and I happened to look in an alley. Peeked around the corner actually. And there I saw it. Six feet of feathery beak and talononed ferocity. There was a massive owl leering over a cowering man. I could hear the owl yelling in a harsh but quiet voice. That breathy kind of shout that is all business but doesn't travel far.\n\"No more mercy, Devin. Next I'll chew off your arms. Where is the Gordonbrew? Where is it!\" He hissed.\n\"I...I swear to you I gave it to my friend. I...I'll show you the spot.\"\n\"Hmmm ok,\" the owl shook its feathers, \"wait on second thought...\" The owl lunged in and sunk a talon into the poor mans leg and was just about to launch a beak into him when I yelled. I didn't mean to, but I couldn't just stand there.\nThe owl snapped its head around to lock its blood red and glowing eyes upon me. \nI ran.\nI ran a fast as I could. I dodged around parked cars. I heard the smash of glass and twist of steel behind me but was too afraid to look back. My lungs felt like fire was exploding inside them with each panicky breath. I bolted across the street and the weirdest thing happened.\nWithout warning a semi-truck came blasting down the road just as the owl dipped down to sink into me and was crushed against the grill. The creature then dropped under the front tires. By the time it came out the rear set of tires it was nothing but a mass of gooey lumps and dark feathers. The semi jammed its brakes. The door opened and the shabby, stinky fellow got out.\n\"I found you, lets get outta here!\" He ran at me and pushed me towards a parked car. He jacked it faster than I would've thought possible and we sped off.\nI was in some state of shock, thinking of what to ask this fellow.\n\"You ate the beans?\" He asked.\n\"Ah, drank them actually. I...I haven't slept in a while and I can't stand the site of anyone. I haven't even fed my cat Mr. Stickypaws. What...what's going on? I mean, my head, I can't think straight.\"\n\"They get you when you sleep. Or in the dark. It's best to sleep in a wide open park or somewhere thats in the light. Their dark spirits in vile bodies of giant owls. Nobody know where they came from though.\"\n\"Oh.\" Was all I could manage.\n\"There's a man named Gordon who found some magic beans that help keep us awake to fight them. They're coffee beans; really, really strong ones.\"\n\"Um, us?\" This was getting weird.\n\"The trusted few we can recruit to fight them. I used to be nice like you, and then someone gave me a cup of Gordon's coffee and the rest is history. Like you, I possess the nicest qualities possible so when the maddening effect of the bean took over I wasn't completely overwhelmed by the madness and rage. All you have left now is to fight. We live in the light and take as many of them out as we can. We're teachers and accountants and librarians; you know the 'nice people'.\" \n\"So um, I...I can't go back to anything? I mean, where do we go know?\" I scratched my head.\n\"Forget your old life, forget Mr. Stickypaws and forget about anything else but killing the evil owls. They will overpopulate the world and eat us like their cattle if we let them. Their's roughly a hundred thousand of us spread around the globe. Crazy folk, some might say. But we're the ones that let them lead normal lives so they can call us crazy haha!\"\n\"Now,\" he said reaching into his pocket, \"your first assignment is to get these beans to Norman Yogenbraugh. He's a data entry clerk for a business management company and he's sweater vest shopping right now.\"",
"“Insomniacs and owls.“ the young man sets down his phone and rubs his face. “Now that would be terrible”. He chuckles and gets up off the couch \n\n\n“coffee is ready” a woman's voice calls from another room. \n\n\n“Good… we have another long night ahead of us. \n\n\nIt started about a year ago. Some scientist thought they could cure sleep. Unfortunately it ended like the morpheus episode of Doctor Who with some slight differences. The rewiring replaced the usually shutting down of the body with a revving up of sorts. a constant adrenaline effect with stronger bodies. Pills are now needed for anyone to get any sleep at night. Now while you do get physically stronger you suffer mentally, No inhibitions no cares, no mercy. Now after hearing that you should be curious as to why I am drinking coffee at this time. I will, of course tell you. \n\n\nDecaf coffee, although some would disagree I used to consider decaf to be completely pointless. I drank coffee for the energy. Once that was removed it was no use to me. Coffee itself contains some form of nutrient that counteracts the mental degradation but the caffeine counteracts the nutrient. So in the order to keep your senses at night decaf is necessary. The reason why everyone doesn't just drink coffee and problem solved would be that most of those already affected have permanent damage and also that the amount of protection varies with the person and the coffee. This leaves it to risky for most people. I am not most people. \n\n\nEnter Jacob Leath former idea man and founder of the UI company est. 2024 this is the company that's cracked open the robotics industry and provided the first “androids”. Leath’s major contribution was genius level problem solving and logic skills, asking questions and giving answers. Although androids still lack things like emotions. The work of his company jump-started the AI and Android fields. \n\n\nHe sighs stepping out of his house. He walks out into the lawn and looks up a the night sky. A voice rings out in the distance… the usual government announcement of curfew. \n\n\n“don't forget your pack” a voice says. Jacob turns around and walks back to the porch. He smirks at Mai (a shameless acronym for My AI) thank you he says as he takes the pack which contains… among other times a portable coffee percolator in case of of emergencies. \n\n\n“you be careful Jacob I’ll make sure no owls nest in the yard and no Insomniacs in the house.” She smiles slightly at the play on words \n\n\n“I'd feel a little lot less than safe without you waiting Mai” Jacob says walking back off the porch, pack in hand, and out into the street. \n\n\nAs he walks he takes a earpiece out of his pocket and sticks it where you it belongs. \n\n\n“Everything good my friend”. Jacob says\n\n\n“ you’re getting started late for one.” The voice comes through the earpiece. “ secondly there's a light on in a house on elm street.”\n\n\n“But that's outside of my patrol, can't Peter take care of his own area” Although he’s complaining he starts walking that way.\n\n\n“Peter’s got bar duty tonight you care to swap?”\n\n\n“tell you what I'll let him take care of the drunks, the sleepless and the sleepless drunks. “\n\n\n“that's what I thought”\n\n\nAll goes silent for a bit as Jacob walks down the empty street sipping his coffee as he goes. He gets within a mile of the street when the fun begins. \n\n\nSCHREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE\n\n\nJacob's face drops he hooks his coffee to a carabiner on this pack and pulls out a net gun. \n\n\n“Owls” he says pulling out a pair of glasses and sliding them onto his face. \n\n\n“better get out of the open Jacob. ” \n\n\n“I know my friend I know “ Jacob breaks into a mad dash to one side of the road and under someone's porch. He rests the gun on the railing and watches the skies. Three large shadows wing through the sky but do not veer from their course. He waits till they’re out of sight then counts to ten and continues. \n\n\nSure enough he sees a light on in the second story of a house coming through a window nestled on the roof. He cuts into the yards a few houses back and sneaks up to the house from the side. Jacob climbs up the side of the house and begins sneaking across the roof when he hears a thud. He freezes and slowly pulls out a usp-s he sees the glow from the window disappear but he still doesn't move. A few moments later and a man climbs up from the opposite side Jacob levels his gun at him and watches. The man pries open the window and slides in. Jacob takes this moment to sneak closer to the window but stays slightly back and to the side. He hears a muffled voice followed by a quick scuffle that continues as the man drags a young boy out of the window with him. Jacob takes aim and fires downing the man whose corpse rolls off the roof and thuds on the front below. The boy lies there in shock but sits up with a shock when Jacob takes a seat beside him two mugs in one hand and a pot in the other\n\n\n“want some coffee kid? It’ll help you sleep. ”\n\n\nEnd \n\nNotes: I left out description on purpose so you can be imaginative with how it looks and also This is my first post in this subreddit. I am a fan of reading between the lines so you can do that as well if you wish. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n",
"\"Look, Steve, I get it, Stacey left, you're sad, but do you really think we should be out this late?\" I looked around at the few other patrons of the bar nervously. \"Steve, it's almost sundown, for Christ's sake.\" Steve drunkenly swung around to look at me, nearly spilling his drink in the process.\n\n\"Oh, so you're scared of wee little birdies?\" He shouted. \"Everyone look at Bill, he's scared of some fucking birds-\"\n\n\"Bill, they're OWLS. They could kill us! I'm calling us a cab, you can crash at my place, where it's safe.\" But, as I started to dial, the bartender caught my eye and slowly shook his head as he polished a glass.\n\n\"Y'all are too late,\" He drawled. \"Last call was an hour ago.\"\n\n\"That can't be right,\" I protested in a panic. \"It's not even 7:30!\"\n\n\"It's Sunday,\" the bartender responded. \"We close early. Them steel doors we use to keep the insomniacs out are already down.\"\n\n\"So we're trapped in here?!\" Bill screamed. \"Shit, man, I left my gun at home! I'm not scared of those owls, but insomniacs are fucking crazy!\"\n\n\"Yeah, what happens when they break through the fucking windows, barkeep, what happens then?\" I demanded. The bartender rolled his eyes. \n\n\"Glass is bulletproof. Like it is everywhere. Anyhow, it's almost night. I reckon everybody should go to sleep, and I mean EVERYBODY,\" He proclaimed, suddenly stern. \"Ain't nobody turning into one o' them insomniacs in my bar. If you can't sleep, you can 'go outside,' in the Old Yeller-type o' sense. Personally, I suggest ya'll drink yourselves to sleep. But you best pay up in the morning.\"\n\nEveryone in the bar quickly found a space on the floor to occupy and popped an Ambien. Most chased it with booze. Steve and I ended up facing each other, and I was strongly reminded of the sleepovers we had as grade schoolers.\n\n\"Bill?\" Steve slurred my name. \n\n\"Yeah?\" I replied.\n\n\"Bill, if we go to sleep, how will we know no one stays awake and turns? What if they do? What'll they do to us?\"\n\n",
"“Oh my! I wonder where Charlie could be.”\n\nCharlie giggled from underneath the covers of his bed. His mother was just pretending to not notice him, of course, but that was what made the game so funny. He tried his best to press against his mattress as he heard her footsteps creak toward his bed.\n\n“I guess he’s not here,” his mother said, with an exaggerated tone. “I sure am tired, though. Maybe I’ll sleep here tonight.”\n\nCharlie held his breath as his mother reached the bed, but burst out with laughter as she fell on top of him.\n\n“That’s funny,” his mother said. “I don’t remember buying a laughing bed for Charlie’s room. And it’s so lumpy.” In a flash, she ripped the covers off the bed, exposing Charlie’s adorable, nine year old face. “Charlie!” she shouted, hugging him tight. “I was so worried about you.”\n\nCharlie could barely talk over his own laughter. “You couldn’t find me,” he taunted.\n\n“I guess not.” Charlie’s mother rose from the bed and walked across the room. “Straight to bed, now,” she said from the doorway, before flicking off the light.\n\n“Ok. I love you mom.”\n\n“I love you, too,” his mother replied. “Goodnight Charlie.”\n\nCharlie watched his mother close the door, and waited in silence as her footsteps descended down the staircase, away from his second story bedroom. When the footsteps stopped, he began to count down in his head. *300, 299…*\nWhen he reached zero, Charlie flicked on his bedside lamp, and retrieved his book from beneath his mattress. He promised himself he would only stay up for one more hour, and began to read.\n\nFor some reason, Charlie had always felt more comfortable after sunset. His mother was insistent that he go to sleep at 7:00 PM every night, but that had never quite felt right. These last few hours of wakefulness were the ones when Charlie really felt alive, and the good feelings of staying up late always managed to carry over. Charlie never felt tired in the mornings after staying up. He performed better on tests at school, and was a better football player at recess. He never understood why his mother was so insistent on sending him to bed early.\n\nShe had caught him once, a year ago. He still remembered the look of panic on her face when she burst into his room. “You… You need to go to sleep now, sweetie,” she said, failing to maintain any trace of calm in her voice. Then she snatched Charlie’s book from his hand and shut off the light. “Go to bed, now.”\n\nCharlie almost felt bad for disobeying her wishes, but it just didn’t make sense to go to bed so early. He knew that his mother held herself to the same bedtime she had set for him. She was a heavy sleeper, and would never know that Charlie was staying up against her wishes. There was no harm done if she didn’t know.\n\nCharlie had been reading ‘Holes’ for the last week. It was an excellent book, about bad children who are sent to a camp to become better. Charlie didn’t understand how digging holes every day would improve a child’s behavior, but he loved the book regardless, and had frequently lost track of time reading it.\n\nHe was lost in the book when he heard a strange sound from outside his house. *Probably just raccoons,* he thought. His neighborhood had a nasty raccoon problem. For a moment, he returned to his book, until he heard a rock crash hard against his bedroom window.\n\nCharlie froze, and turned his head slowly toward his alarm clock. It was 9:45 PM. He had never stayed up this late before.\n\nAnother rock hit the window. Charlie panicked and shut off his bedroom light. He threw the covers over his head, and curled up in a ball, shutting his eyes as hard as he could. He heard another sound against the window. This time it wasn’t a rock. It sounded more like a hand knocking.\n\nCharlie’s breathing quickened, and his heart thumped in his chest. He could feel hot tears streaming down his cheeks as he heard another new sound; his window opening from the outside. That wasn’t possible, Charlie thought. His mother always made sure his windows were locked before saying good night. No, this had to be a nightmare. There was no other explanation.\n\n“What have we here?” a smooth, mocking voice called out from next to Charlie’s bed. “I could have sworn I just saw a light on in this room. How could no one be here?”\n\nThe floorboard creaked as the intruder took a step closer to Charlie’s bed. Charlie grabbed his bedsheets tighter, and tried his best to keep his sobs from making any noise. For a few seconds, there was only silence. Then a sharp movement pulled the covers away.\n\nCharlie looked up, and saw the silhouette of his intruder, and a pair of red eyes staring down at him hungrily. “There you are,” the mocking voice hissed.\n\nCharlie tried to scream, but the intruder quickly covered his mouth with an icy cold hand. Charlie bit down on a finger and tasted blood, but the man showed no sign of pain.\n\n“You are a bad one,” the intruder said. “I’m in luck. As it turns out, I’m recruiting children just like you.”\n\nThe man’s second hand grasped Charlie’s bare forearm. With a jerk, he ripped Charlie from bed, and threw him over his shoulder. Charlie squirmed as much as he could, but was powerless to stop the man as he leaped from the second story window, and descended gently into the pitch black night.\n",
"I watched the sun set, resting my right hand on my parents' gun so I could use it when I needed to. I didn't want to think about that. There were footsteps behind me, and my hand twitched before I realized that the soft steps were those of my little sister.\n\n\"Sara, you need to go to sleep.\"\n\nShe shook her head. \"I can't.\"\n\nSara was still so young, so innocent. \"Take another sleeping pill, Sara. I'll be in bed soon, but you need to sleep first, ok?\"\n\nSara nodded and left. I kept watching the rest of the town from my perch at the window. The tell-tale squeak of plastic and rush of tap-water let me know Sara was following my instructions. A few padded footsteps later, and she was silent.\n\nI walked quietly so as not to disturb Sara. The boards were nailed tightly to the windows. The deadbolt on the backdoor was secure. No one - nothing would come from the basement. I walked quickly back to guard the front of the house, worried as though the sun would slip away while I was distracted. But no, the sun remained where it was when I had left five minutes ago.\n\nI couldn't help but think about how it all started. A month ago I heard from Mom and Dad that some drug company had come, promising a chemical that would get rid of sleep forever. We were an experiment. They added it to the water. It worked, in a way. At first you didn't need to sleep. After a few days of staying up all night, people changed. Turned bad, became nocturnal. Then they became worse, barely human.\n\nThe sun was gone. I wished I could turn a light on so I could see anyone who came, but that would let them know that there were still clean people around. The nox, nocturnals, saw fine in the dark. A nox had probably done something to shut off the streetlights. They didn't touch the water - they wanted more people turned. It didn't matter - Sara and I had already drank. I prayed Sara would never know the night.\n\nThey came out, searching like hungry animals. Every now and then two would embrace, clawing and grabbing at the other. Only one would walk away. I heard bumps come from the basement. I felt sick to my bones, and I prayed it wasn't the feeling of me turning into one of them. The bumps turned into a knocking, but I didn't turn around. I had to keep watch, and I had moved as much furniture as I could in front of the door. If they were going to get out, I had done everything I could to stop them. \n\nThe knocking subsided, and I breathed a sigh of relief. I needed to prepare Sara tomorrow. Teach her how to make fortifications, traps to survive the night without staying up. This - this all was a temporary measure. Hopefully help would come, but I doubted it. A nagging part of me told me Smallville was just that - too small to be noticed. No help would come. There was only one escape for Sara - death. I shook the thoughts out of my head, but two horrifying possibilities lay before me. Either I really just thought that, or I was turning. I couldn't think about that, I had to guard the house. \n\nIt looked brighter out. Maybe the moon had come out from behind the clouds, but I could see more. I could hear hooting from the woods, and my blood ran cold. To my own shame, I prayed that there were still animals left suffering in the forest. I prayed that the owls would eat their fill and stay outside the town. I cursed the fact that we lived on the outskirts of town.\n\nI heard a loud crash come from the kitchen. My blood ran cold - that could only be the door to the basement. As I turned, I saw figures outside begin walking closer, but I wasn't preoccupied with them. I pointed the gun at Mom.\n\n\"Oh, come on son,\" she rasped. A small part of me whispered concern that she hadn't had water in two days, but this wasn't my Mom anymore. I only needed to worry about my sister.\n\n\"I won't hurt you, son. We're family. We're the same.\"\n\nSome part of me resonated at that last line - we were the same. No, no! Shit! It was happening too fast. Other nox had arrived, and they filed into the house. They didn't come near us - they just sat and watched, grinning madly.\n\n\"Go wake up your sister, John. We're going to be a family.\"\n\nThis couldn't be real. I wanted to badly protect Sara, but I couldn't shoot my mom. Even if I could, there were dozens of nox by now. I walked upstairs, afraid that at any moment they would rush and attack me or, worse, my sister. I had my right hand on my parents' gun. I could see Sara breathing. She looked so innocent. She couldn't be turned. I pointed the gun and squeezed. I kept my eyes closed. She wouldn't be turned.\n\nFor a long time, it felt like I was nowhere. My eyes were closed and I couldn't hear. I was cold, numb, and trembling. As my hearing came back, I began to hear laughter. I couldn't tell if it was me or the nox. I didn't think it mattered."
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[WP] While renovating the historical home of Ben Franklin, numerous corpses are found in the basement.
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"Jack Johnson couldn't believe his eyes.\nThere, in the basement of Ben Franklin, were eleven corpses. All of them were decapitated. \n\n\"I have to call this in... Dammit.\"\n\nAn hour later, the local police were asking the same questions, again.\n\nJJ (As everyone called him) said, calmly if exasperatedly \"My crew and I removed the floor stones and found these bodies, exactly as you see them now. We didn't touch anything.\"\n\nDetective Phil Waters nodded \"I see. Alright. We'll take it from here, Mr Johnson.\"\n\nAfter eighteen hours the following facts were clear:\n1) All the victims were from Colonial Times, rather than modern times.\n\n2) All the victims were stabbed with wooden implements.\n\n3) All the victims were decapitated post mortem.\n\n4) All the victims heads are currently missing.\n\nAfter removing the bodies to the Medical Examiner's Office, the first victim is identified as a female, Caucasian, estimated to be around Twenty to twentyfive years of age.\n\nDetective Waters walked over to the ME.\n\n\"Hi, Matt. Anything new?\"\n\nMedical Examiner Matt Micheals, is a large African American man of some five decades of life. His youth having been spent in the US Marine Corps for eight years. Nothing much bothered the well built Doctor.\n\n\"Well, it is odd. These victims were all murdered in the same ritual way. It's bizzare, Phil. The samples of the wooden stabbing implement shows that the victim had to have been restrained. The top of the wood shows clearly the repeated impacts with another wooden item. A hammer or mallet. These people were tortured by having a sharp stick pounded into their chests, before being decapitated.\"\n\nPhil shook his head. \"That's just barbaric! And that sort of behavior from Ben Franklin? It's too weird, Matt. Did you remove all of the sticks, yet?\"\n\nMatt shook his head 'no'. \"Just this one. The only female in the group. Hungry?\"\n\nPhil said \"Yup. Kelly's Diner?\" \n\nMatt grabbed his hat and took off his scrubs. \"Sure will be good to get a good steak, eh, Phil?\"\n\nIt has been hours since the pair had gone for the night. By morning, the female victim was missing, as well as the overnight intern..."
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[WP] Describe a game of Sorcery Soccer, where the field is filled with ley lines. Activating them creates a wide array of affects to help- or harm- your team.
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"The first rule to change was the number of substitutes. Once we learned to tap into the ley lines, once we realised how dangerous some of the interactions could be, we needed more than three substitutes. Ley lines come in a variety of colours, ranging from the generally safe blue lines through to the high-risk, high-reward red lines. To add another level of strategy to the game, certain colours will stack, others will cancel each other out and in rare cases colours will exponentially boost each other. And you never know whether activating a certain ley line will help or hurt you.\n\nIt started tame, as any new sport does. Green lines for a moderate change to gravity, speed boosts (or penalties), or enhanced ability to read opposition movements. The worst that happened with the blue lines was a corner which buzzed a low-flying blimp. But that was never going to be interesting enough for the fans. They wanted bigger, faster, more dangerous. The BOSS (Board of Sorcery Soccer) obliged by adding the yellow lines. These added terrain changes and environmental factors into the game. Everything from hail in Dubai to a (rumoured) volcano in the Siberian league, and that is before the interactions with the blue lines are factored in. Even this wasn't enough. To launch the first World Cup BOSS added red lines. Telekinesis, mind-control, fire-balls launching out of your hands and just short of a billion viewers for each of the group stage games.\n\nReferees have the ability to neutralise any of the ley line affects, provided they respond quick enough. The group stage was bad. Then BOSS started ramping up the frequency of the ley lines, which increases the number of intersections. Down 2-0 with 10 minutes to go our opponents in the quarter-finals, the Lithuanians, hit a red while they still had an active blue. The red was a debuff which super-charged their speed boost while giving them full mental paralysis. 11 players going 60 miles per hour into the nearest solid object. Then in the semi-finals BOSS made the lines thicker, which both amplifies and lengthens the effect. The Russians hit a yellow in the first minute that turned the pitch into a white-out which lasted the duration of the game. That game went to a penalty shoot-out, which the infra-red replay later showed us winning because our goalie took one to the face. At least it was better than the other semi-final, where the game was decided by the French captain force-walking the German goalie into the goal at the end of overtime. Unsportsmanlike to say the least, but I wouldn't want to face that German team in penalty shootout either. \n\nBOSS always said they have something special planned for the final. There are more ley lines than the rest of the World Cup put together.\n\nKick-off: 0-0\n\nThe French team hit an massive orange ley line as the game starts, and the world turns upside down. Literally. The pitch streches to the inner surface of a sphere with both the goals situated back-to-back at the top. Gravity goes outward on the sphere for everything except the ball, which seems to be bouncing around like a retarded 3-D version of pong. To add to the mess the entire French team is invisible, and based on the path which the ball is taking they also have super speed. Just what we need.\n\nHalf-time: 1-13\n\nSafe to say the first half could have gone worse. Our goalie hit a blue which gave him super-reflexes, and managed to catch one with his feet, grab the cross-bar and Tarzan swing over and physically cross into the other goal. That worked until he went down clutching his chest. The replacement goalie hit a negative green and ended up floating to the middle of the sphere for the remainder of the half, and it was all the rest of the team could do to keep them to 13 goals.\n\n80th Minute: 8-14\n\nI made an executive call as Captain and hit a mobile purple ley line running around the circumference of the pitch. Super-gravity and ice across the field. Super-speed and invisibility don't really help when your lying on your ass skidding around in circles. We're still in this.\n\n90th Minute (3 minutes into injury time): 13-14\n\nIn desperation the French hit another orange ley line. This one nullified all specials, which gave most of the French team a bad case of road rash. It also reverted the pitch back to normal. The referees looked relieved - no more working out what an off-side means in an elleptical geometry. One minute of injury time left, and with the sudden change of the pitch I am now one-on-one with the goalie. Step, cross-over, fake left and...face-plant! The dirty, cheating - PENALTY! I see the referee basically slap the French goalie with the red card. I step up to the spot, resist the urge to drill the ball into the replacement keeper and sink the penalty.\n\n115th Minute: 14-15\n\nThe French team don't have enough left in the tank to hit another big ley line, although they did enough to fake out one of the younger defenders. He tripped a negative red, and ended up teleporting our entire team off the field. No matter how experienced the team is, there is always one person who will crack under pressure. 5 minutes to go, and the French team are parking the bus. Only the French captain has the stones to meet me in the middle of the field for the kick-off.\n\nThe pitch starts changing, the ley lines start to converge on the centre of the pitch. A white ley line, brighter enough to light up the entire pitch, forms over the ball. I look the French captain right in the eye, touch the ball forward and put all my remaining power into triggering the white ley line. The stadium starts to shake, time stretches out, an angelic choir starts singing in the background...\n\nSome Time Later:\n\nI wake up in the hospital, pretty much as I expected when I decided to trigger the white ley line. I can still feel the residual power ebbing out of my bones as the team's manager walks in. \n\n\"What happened?\"\n\n\"I could ask you the same thing. What were you thinking triggering a white ley line. Crazy enough that BOSS would allow one to form in the first place, but I doubt they will try that again.\" He looked at me with pity. \"How much do you remember?\"\n\n\"Everything after triggering the white is a blank. Did we win?\"\n\n\"In a manner of speaking.\"\n"
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What constitutes an OC is completely up to you.
OC stands for "original character".
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[WP] You meet your first OC
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"It was a Tuesday morning.\nThe sun was shining, and the air was warn.\n\nNaturally my guard was down.\n\nStill, I was not expecting this.\n\nI went outside to ride my bike to the coffee shop.\n\nThe sun was occluded, but the event was not silent as from a cloud.\n\nNope.\n\nI clearly heard a tearing sound then two odd sounds.\n\nTurning around, I didn't quite realizes that those weren't trees suddenly placed behind me.\n\nThose were legs. Tyrannosaurus Rex legs!\n\nI went stone still.\n\nOf course I didn't recognize her yet.\n\nShe lowered herself a bit to look me in the face.\n\nI was absurdly grateful to have already used my restroom, for obvious reasons!\n\nThen she began to shrink, and change.\n\nOnce I saw her become more human, I relaxed, as I recognized her.\n\n\"Megan? She-Rex, Wha-,How?!?!?\"\n\nMy first Original Character, Megan O'Hara, aka The She-Rex of Bayville was somehow made real, and was right there!\n\nOnce she was Human, my X-Men Evolution OC shyly smiles at me.\n\n\"Author? We need your help. Apocalypse has returned! Please! Please help us!\"\n\nI could tell, now that she was Human, that Megan was about five or six months along.\n\n\"I couldn't let Apocalypse hurt your children, or Ray, either. Tell me everything, Meganra ( her secret Name, that only Berserker could know).\n\nOnce in the coffee shop, she told me about Apocalypse's return....\n\nI would have my work cut out for me!",
"The bell rang and I frowned as I got up to open it. It was a natural reaction for I was browsing reddit when some idiotic individual attempted an act of annoyance. Nevertheless, I put on a nice poker face and I opened the door. There was a brightly dressed lady outside, sporting the energy and enthusiasm of a child. I did not recognize her but she apparently did, judging by her bone-crushing hug. I did not even have a chance to take a breath before her skinny body almost completely crushed mine. \n\nI gasped for air in the entire minute she displayed her powers and I completely looked like a fish out of the water. When she stopped and looked at me with a fond smile that caused her blue eyes to sparkle, as I took deep breaths in order to re-familiarize myself with the air of this world. \"Who... are... you...?\" I managed to get the monosyllabic words displaying my curiosity out. She had already invited herself in by this point.\n\n\"Ah, Mango. You are so funny.\" She remarked with a laugh that could only be described as angelic and soul-grating at the same time as she pushed her strawberry blonde curls back.\" It was a painful experience but I managed not to show my repulsion and kept a straight face to show that I was really not attempting to make anyone laugh here. \n\nShe took one look at my definitely not laughing face and frowned. She then huffed in indignation. It was as if she could not believe that I did not know her. I racked my brain, but nope I definitely did not know someone like her. \"I can't be-live you don't remember me. I mean, I was your first.\" Se replied full-on glaring at me. \n\n\"My first?\" I was dumbfounded, nothing this woman way saying out of her red-lipstick covered lips was making me understand just what the hell was happening here.\n\n\"Your first OC, stupid. Don't you remember the fine day when you wrote and I came to existance? Birds were chipping, the sun was shining and it was glorious.\" She replied twirling. Her sundress looked exceptionally beautiful on her as she did so.\n\nI couldn't believe what I was hearing. Surely, I couldn't have created this Mary-Sue of a character. \"Please tell me that you at least one flaw.\" I said, resting my head in my hands. It suddenly felt a lot heavier.\n\n\"Well, I was bad at studies.\" She replied in a disinterested tone as she was focused on inspecting her pink glittery nail polish. As soon as she said it, everything dawned on me. It was almost as if I was looking at the twelve year old me. \n\nI must've given a oh... face because she was looking at me and jumping *literally* jumping with joy. \"You remember.\" She was dancing now. I looked at her with a grim face and nodded. \n\n\"You're not happy to see me.\" She remarked looking at me.\n\n\"I don't remember creating you this smart.\" I reply, masking the emotions on my face.\n\n\"I may be ageless and timeless but I've been around your finest characters. They really are so intelligent, once they put their weapons down.\" She replied sitting on my couch and crossing her legs. \"I really hated it when you killed McHottie.\"\n\n\"Which one? I've killed many. And besides, aren't you with that...\" I struggled to remember the name of the green-eyed black-haired character I'd written so many years ago. \"What cliche name was it? .... Ah, Aaron. Aren't you with Aaron.\" \n\n\"You left at a ambiguous ending. I can appreciate the eye-candy.\" She said as she winked. She looked extremely pretty while doing so. \n\n\"You're so pretty. Everything I wanted to be back then.\" I remarked sitting next to her. \n\n\"But you've grown since then, haven't you. I mean, whenever you create someone like me, they're either bloodthirsty assassins or even more terrifying murderers.\" She said with a shiver.\n\nI laughed. \"Why are you here? How are you here? Where do you even live? What is it out there.\" I had so many questions but unfortunately there was no one to answer. I was all alone, just accompanied by a faint ringing sound.\n\nI woke up to my phone blaring out 'Radioactive' by Imagine Dragons, my default wake-up song. I turned it off with groggy eyes. Pulling the covers together, I laid there, deep in thought. It was a really *really* weird dream. "
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[WP] You have the ability to freeze and unfreeze time, unknowingly to you it has a finite number of uses. You freeze time for the hundredth time only to realize you can not unfreeze it.
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"And... freeze! You grab your spoon from the air and safely embed it deeply into your cream bowl. Thanks to your handy dandy time freezing power, you won't miss a moment of Gazorpazorpfield. Okay, time to unpause time. You press the play button on your magic remote, but nothing happens, Gazorpazorpfield remains frozen on the screen. \"Nooooo!\" You scream, as the enormity of eternity in a frozen world begins to penetrate. An hour later you are curled up in a ball in front of the TV, rocking back and forth and clutching the remote in your hand. Suddenly, you hear a noise from the kitchen. You get up to investigate. \"Urp. So you're the cause of this temporal distortion, you son of a bitch. How the hell am I supposed to finish my taxes if you keep pausing time?\" says the tall Hispanic man in a stained lab coat. He walks up to you before you can think of a reply and snatches the remote out of your hand. \"Oh hey, neat. A cursed remote that lets you control time but eventually traps you in a frozen time loop.\" He pulls out a small screwdriver and uses it to open a small panel in the back of the remote. \"Here, try these speecial batteries. They're, urp, double A. Whenever time gets stuck like this you'll need to get more of these speecial batteries from a place called a \"store.\" If you need help, try asking an eight year old. Urp. And I was just kidding about doing my taxes. I can tell you didn't get that.\" He then turns and disappears through a glowing green portal. At last you can finish watching Gazorpazorpfield. "
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[WP] You are beginning to suspect that your car is actually a bear.
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"Shit. I'm late for work and my car won't start again. I'm going to have to make another one of those awkward phone calls to the boss man and explain the situation again. He never understands. He told me I should buy an FJ cruiser. On my salary? So delusional.\n\nBesides I love my Moskvitch Ursula. It's basically one of a kind, it has its quirks and it's hard to import parts from junkyards on the other side of the world, but it's unique and it's mine, plus I've gotten to pick up on some linguistic skills after emailing some weirdo at said junkyard in Belarus.\n\nSo I sit, defeated and demoralized as I fish for the manual and flip through the diagnostic section, trying to see where the growling noise is coming from... looks like it might be the pancreatic converter? It's only been a year since the last replacement...\n\n"
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[WP] When your medical nanobot was sabotaged, the 'accident' left you immortal. The occult immortals of your city have reached out socially.
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"Surrounded by the beautiful, rich, and wise folk, I wonder what my place is here. \n\nI know what powers my immortality, science stealing away matter to a permanent perfect state, aggressively willing to destroy everything, a broken fundamental, the Three Laws bent to my unwilling advantage. \n\nBut for these immortals, it is their will, faith, or pure divinity that gives them their infinity.\n\nWhy am I here? To be gawked at? Mocked, pitied, \"uplifted\" to their perfection? Or am I here as an equal to them?\n\n---\n\nSorry, I don't have much. I know the story in my head, but not the words. The idea is that the immortal-through-science is given immortality because of the overly aggressive nanobots that actually make up his existence. If he would die, the nanobots would effectively grey-goo his surroundings to rebuild him, but the immortals he's surrounded by don't need such... well, harsh methods. Their immortality is sustained through more elegant means and he knows that while he is perfection among men, he is no longer surrounded by men. I'm not sure if I would have brought it to blows, to steal divinity, or to spend immortality with these folks. \n\nWhat's a few millennia of a head start when you have an Aleph-Zero infinity to live your life. ",
"The first couple decades were the hardest. Once it was clear that I wasn’t aging beyond 30, the doctors and medtechs wanted to have a look at me. I spent nearly a decade in the best medhub on the continent as the top techs and doctors examined me and tested the limits of my immortality. \n\nThe global immunobot hack that had led to several million deaths had left me immortal, and the final tests confirmed that with the combination of uniquely mutated genes and the way they interacted with the bot hack, I could now live through nearly anything. From the tests, we learned that decapitation and skull-crushing was about all that could presumably still render me dead—if you think of death as a lack of consciousness—but otherwise I was immortal. \n\nThe only test that went a little wrong—the only time the bots didn’t do a kick-ass job at rejuvenating me—was when they (carefully) removed my right arm at the elbow. They wanted to know if it would grow back—and to be honest I did too—so after a pile of consent forms, we tried it. Well, it did grow back, but the bots seemed a little confused at what a human arm is supposed to look like.\n\n I can’t blame them, really; the normal limits of bots are patching burnt skin up to second degree burns and kicking viruses and bad bacteria in the ass—they weren’t made to regrow limbs, they shouldn’t even be able to. Now, my right arm is a bit funky; it has the same general shape and function as my left hand, but instead of nails I have claws—thick, black, curling claws. Nothing the programmers could do could reverse it, and they were hesitant to change my bots programming too much because they still don’t quite know what serendipitous lines of genetic and synthetic code led to me being immortal instead of dead. \n\nThe hack that left so many dead simply reversed the bots’ sense of ‘enemy’ cells and bacteria; leaving millions of people whose bots were actively attacking them. In me, the combination of a serious illness, mutated genes, and bots who saw the ‘normal’ me as the enemy turned me into an immortal. My bots are focused on my own body as the enemy, much like others who were effected, but instead of killing me, they are in a constant state of re-making me. As far as anyone can tell, my genetic makeup was just unique enough to cast doubt on which parts of me were ‘normal’ before the hack and before the illness, and the combination with my illness rendered enough confusion that the bots focused on constantly reproducing the base code of my body.\n\n It honestly happened to some other small percentage of the human race as well—none of us are truly unique, after all—but I was the only one with medtechs and doctors constantly up in my physical space, and thus the only one on the radar. Anyone else who experienced this probably just thinks they’re aging extremely well—for now, anyway.\n\nAfter the decade in the hospital I tried to get on with a normal life, but as you might imagine that became impossible. Everyone wants a piece of an immortals life until they realize what that really means; I won’t grow old with them, I won’t age or change the same way, and they’re going to die long before me. It wears on a person after a while, and the weird claws on my right hand didn’t help much either.\n\nNow, I spend most of my time alone. I spent several years after the hospital doing all that stuff you might imagine you’d do if you had unlimited time. I traveled, I worked different jobs, I met strange and exciting people. I spent a good deal of time in the public eye, raking in the money you’d imagine you’d make just being immortal and willing to talk about it. I figured if I was going to live forever it’d help to be a millionaire, first, and it seemed like the public agreed.\n\n After the whirlwind of lost connections and the slow building realization that I was no longer a part of the time stream with everyone else, I retired to the pacific northwest for some time in quiet reflection. Life is a lot easier for an immortal if you’re alone; you don’t have to be constantly reminded of your immortality and you can feel more like a person than a god. \n\nI was fine for several years, living alone in the mountains and redwoods, feeling more at home surrounded by trees and rocks than I did surrounded by people. Being among things that had been alive for longer than I have and would continue to exist longer than the average human was comforting. \n\nRecently, however, I’ve been longing for connection with other conscious beings, and the letters and web contact with family and old friends wasn’t enough anymore. I had nearly made the decision to return to civilization for a while when I received the letter. It was addressed to me by name, which in itself wasn’t odd as nearly everyone knows my story. The odd part was that the letter was written on centuries-old paper. \n...\n\nNote:\nThat's all I've got so far. Apologies to the techs, doctors, and scientists out there--I'm completely making up something that *sounds plausible* to me even though I have no good understanding of how this all might work. \n",
"\"It's a problem called 'medibot persistence',\" the doctor explained. \"It will halt your aging at your physical peak, automatically heal diseases and injuries and work to prevent total brain death in the event of extreme trauma, such as decapitation. You'll need other medical treatment if something like that happens, like someone to stick your head back on your body.\"\n\n\"Wait, seriously?\"\n\n\"Yes, seriously. It happens in about one in ten thousand cases, and you drew the short straw. In the front office the receptionist will give you the forms you'll want to fill out for filing for malpractice.\"\n\n\"Wait. Malpractice? Why would I do that, this sounds awesome! Like I come in for an appendectomy and you gave me a superpower, like one of those Neo Olympics athletes!\" I could feel it. I hopped off the table to do some jumping jacks, just to feel how healthy my body was now that the realization was starting to set in.\n\n\"You don't understand, Mr. Josephson. Immortality is illegal. In accordance with local laws we have already reported you. We don't have the legal authority to detain you, so... if you don't want to lose what you just got, at the very least... you're going to want to start running.\"\n\n\"What?\" I asked. \"I don't know what you're talking about.\" I walked, disoriented, out of the office, and when I opened the door and looked out I saw three black-suited men walking down the hallway. They were wearing ominous-looking sunglasses, and carrying rifles.\n\nI ducked my head back into the office. \"Holy shit. Okay, I want to run now.\"\n\nThe doctor opened up the window of the office. \"Come over here, then,\" he said, beckoning me over. I ran to the window and shied away. \"Doc, this is like the third floor!\"\n\nI felt his shoe on my back as he pushed me out the window.\n\nThe fall took only a second, and I landed on my back. I heard my spine snap, and my legs went limp as I flopped onto the ground. Everything in my body tingled except my back, which hurt, but I couldn't muster the strength for a scream.\n\nWithin seconds, though, I heard another crack, and the feeling flooded back from my limbs, like a full-body case of pins and needles. I lept to my feet, my muscles twitching. \"Holy shit! I... I guess I really am immortal. And I really should start running.\" I started to run towards my car, but stopped when I saw another pair of those agents standing by it. They spotted me, and I turned and ran the other way, down the street.\n\nI felt amazing. I hadn't run like this since I was in the track and field team in high school, only I think I was doing better than I ever did in that team. \"Why don't they just give this to everyone?\" I wondered aloud.\n\nWithin a couple minutes, I heard sirens coming up from behind me. I hit a hard right into an alley, sprinting to a different road, then kept running into another alley when I saw another car with sirens - not a cop car though - coming down that road too.\n\nThis alley was longer, and before I could reach the other side I saw another unmarked car pull up to the other side. I heard gunfire, and felt a burning sensation in my leg - I'd been shot. I dived for cover behind a dumpster as the 'cops' opened fire on me.\n\n\"Oh god, I don't want to die!\" I said, wondering if maybe I could surrender after all, but not terribly wanting to die of old age either, to go back to my shitty, middle-aged physique with my body slowly falling apart...\n\nThen I noticed there wasn't any more gunfire.\n\nI looked up to see a black woman standing over me, also dressed in a black suit, but this one had a number of red stains on it. Blood? She was carrying a smoking pistol. \"You gonna get up and run, sugah?\" The woman drawled in a creole accent. \"I didn't kill them, and there'll be more.\"\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\n\"How about we share introductions at the safehouse, sugah.\" She offered her hand, and I took it.\n\nBy the time I was standing, she was shot in the back of the head. She collapsed like a sack of potatoes, and I screamed. Before I even finished screaming, her arm lifted from the ground, aimed her pistol, and fired, downing the agent who had fired at her. She stood back up, the hole in her head closing, slowly - and I could see her brains in the meantime. \"What... what the hell?\" I said, in horror.\n\n\"Okay, introductions then. I'm Mary, I'm a voodoo zombie, please don't stare. Now get yer cute butt running!\" She pushed me, and I started running. She was beside me in a moment, directing me where to go, taking shots at people, often before they took shots at us.\n\nI was just so disoriented it took all I had just to follow her and stay alive, so I'm not sure how we ended up diving into a quiet, dark warehouse, or how she managed to enter that warehouse's basement, or why there was a second basement underneath that. But once there, I could hear... well it sounded like one of those old-school speakeasies, and it looked like one too, except crazy. Four werewolves playing poker around a table. A man with big red horns casually chatting with a man with the telltale seams around his joints betraying an artificial body. A guy with a long, pointed hat and a wand, like he was a storybook wizard, talking with a giant furry about Martian geopolitics. There was a piano there; I was able to see through the man playing it. Everyone was wearing the same black suits.\n\n\"Welcome to the organization,\" Mary said. \"I'm afraid your old life is gone at this point - the authorities have seized your possessions and told everyone you knew that you were dead. And they'll be watching them, so you're gonna want to stay dead as far as they're concerned, or you might get them killed.\"\n\nIt was too much for me to take - and she could tell, because she offered me a drink. \"Who are you?\" I asked.\n\n\"The organization's called Holder. Immortality's illegal these days, so we immortals gotta band together to survive. You don't have to join... but you're gonna wanna, if you want some of the world's scary immortals watching your back. Our founder's an ancient vampire!\" She poured herself a drink and held up the glass. \"To good health and a long life!\"\n\nI clinked my drink against it. \"To good health... and a long life.\"",
"As I walked through the streets of the shining city, men in masks poured from a black van which pulled up next to me. Placing a bag over my face and surrounding me in darkness, I found myself in the back of the van, listening to the engine quietly hum while not one of my kidnappers dared to utter a word. I tried counting the turns and timing how long we were on streets, but I lost count as they were obviously backtracking and driving in circles. With my limbs tied, I tried to estimate how many hours we drove before we finally stopped and my kidnappers so delicately threw me from the vehicle. \n\nAfter releasing me from my constraints and liberating my senses to the world, I saw a large mansion surrounded by a dark forest. With moon at its zenith, the kidnappers quickly filed into the van and drove out of the gated courtyard, trapping me on the grounds of the mansion. Without much option, I approached the mansion, searching for any side doors or windows to enter to confuse my captor, but only the main entrance, two elegantly carved mahogany doors with golden trim caught my eye. As a default, I knocked on the door, letting the percussive bangs echo through the building; however, after a long silence, I realized manners were best averted. \n\nOpening the doors revealed a long, carpeted hall way decorated by endless trinkets and paintings. Following the corridor, I tried several doors along the walls, but all were tightly locked, which left me with only the door at the very end of the hall as an option. Delaying the inevitable, I studied the decorations on the wall: Egyptian artifacts preserved on tables sat next to ancient suits of armors which ranged in time and cultural style from samurai to knight. Moreover, unknown paintings signed by Dali, Rembrandt, and Michelangelo adorned the walls. After thoroughly exhausting my studies and concluding I knew nothing from the owners of the mansion besides exceptional taste in art, I slowly turned the door hinge at the end of the hall.\n\nA large room with curtained walls revealed itself along with a circle of hooded figures who stood in a circle around a large sigil composed of seven-sided star encompassed by the overlapping area of two circles. With all eyes cast on me, I froze in place, leading me to believe the flight or fight instinct is broken in me. The hooded figures, however, greeted me kindly and took me to the sigil which glowed with a red light which illuminated the entire room. \n\n“Campbell,” one of the figures addressed me by my last name. “It is good to see you home.”\n\n“Pardon?” I asked.\n\n“Oh, forgive me,” the figure apologized. “I understand memory loss is a common side effect of our condition. Allow to start from the beginning. You are a member of The Pheonix. We were a class of ruling priests in a civilization so long gone that not a single soul recalls our name. Blessed by our ever-loving Goddess, Sa, the immortal bird of flame and ash, we were given the boon of eternal life so many ages ago. We have lived countless lives in countless time periods. Our collective experiences document the whole of history better than any other historian or library ever known to man. After living a normal lifetime, we black out and develop a new life over time, as if reborn from our ashes. Our mission is collect every member in every life time so that we can collect a history immune to time itself.”\n\n“Uh…” I stuttered. “I think there’s been a mistake,”\n\n“Oh there is no mistake,” the man corrected with sheer confidence. “We’ve been watching you. We know of your immortality.”\n\n“Yeah, about that,” I began. “That’s due to nanotechnology. I’m not a reincarnation or anything. I’m just a guy.”\n\nThe hooded figures looked around at each other, first with question glances, then with fearful embarrassment. They excused themselves and huddled in the corner, as if trying to determine my fate. \n\n“So can you keep a secret?” the same hooded figure asked after departing from the group. \n\n“Yeah, I won’t mention any of this,” I answered.\n\n“Good, because if you don’t, we will erase both you and your name from existence,” he replied. “Now get out of my house.”\n\n*****\n\nMore stories at r/Andrew__Wells"
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[WP] It's the first New Moon of 2017 and you can see city lights on the Moon.
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"So we just sat there, pops an' I.\n\nIt was a clear night, like everytime we sat out here. Supprinsingly, there was nothing else but the sound of nature and the small transistor radio, that kept playing the same old song over and over surrounding us. We came out here quite often. To be honest, almost every clear night. Pops and I loved to escape the city. We jumped into his old Impala and drove. We just drove till streets turned into sandy ways, big appartement blocks into small suburban houses, till the sound of the city somewhat seemed to be erased from our memory. He always pulled over on the same cross, a railroad in front of us, so hed know the time, because at 1:36pm the pacific line would pass right here. He used to work on these trains a long, long time ago. When he pulled over he always said 'This our place, this where we wanna be now!' and I nodded. Always. When we got out of the car, we would take a couple of beers with us, and would be sitting down on the hood. So we did this night. Pops was an old man. He served in WWII and has seen a lot of things come and go. As I layed on my back in this cold january night, I started thinking about how much he had to tell, but never told, when he suddenly interrupted the silence:\n\n\"Have you ever wished someone looking at the moon the same time you do?\"\n\n\nA little supprised and confused by that, I just mumbled \"Uhm, well.. Yea. Probably.\".\n\n\n\"You know, I do.\"\n\n\"Do you?\"\n\n\"Yea Karl, I do.\" he said, lowering his voice. \"Sometimes, no, everytime we drive out here, I wish for that. That your grandma would see the moon, just like we two do now.\"\n\n\"But..\".\n\n\" I know, I know..\"\n\n\nI always liked spending time with him. We could stand the silence. Far away a cowbell rang as pops suddenly got up. Standing on the hood of his car, as if he had seen something in the far distance, he said \n\n\"Today.. today is something different. You know, when I was younger, I loved her. And I still do. I miss her every day. She brought out the best in me.\" slowly sitting down again while shaking his head in disappointment. \n\nSo we just sat there, pops an' I.\n\n\"I know where she is and im not afraid to go there anymore. I know shes seeing the moon everytime I do and I know I'll see it, everytime you do. Some might call it heaven, but I'll call it home. Even though it is far away, a different place, I know itll be the same like it is here. Ill be lying under the stary sky, just to escape the city. Although now I know its not the same moon we'll see, I know you'll see me, and I'll see you. I'll never forget that and so shouldnt you.\" he said, slowly raising his arm pointing to the full moon who kept this night so bright.\n\nIn the far distance, you could hear the pacific line train gettin closer and closer, as it must have been late already. Me, I kept staring up at the moon. At some bright lights that looked like city lights from down here. The thought of people sitting on that cold, white surface, drinking beer and looking at the earth like it was some kind of moon to theirs, was kind of funny to me. The sound of the train was already close when I asked pops, if we should get going. Thats when I realised he had fallen, what I thought to be asleep, on my shoulder, never answering me again.\n\n\nSo we just sat there, pops an' I.\n\n-------\n\nStruggled with myself to post this, since im not a native. Hope you enjoy it."
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[WP] Mirrors allow you to look into an alternate dimension where 99% of everything is the same... you suddenly notice the 1% that isn't.
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"\"Goddamnit.\"\n \nReaching up I angrily yank the silver chain to the whirling ceiling fan above my head. As the room falls into complete darkness I feel the chain snap off and slide past my fingers, landing gently on the floor in front of me. \n\n\"Goddamnit.\"\n\nAngry and with the uneasy feeling of defeat I slam the door to my office and feel a slight satisfaction at the heavy thud that follows. The satisfaction doesn't last and soon my face is hot with embarrassment and the first tears of defeat make my vision blurry as they glide down my cheeks, slightly cooling the burning sensation. Weakly I lean against the door, taking comfort in the sturdy oak wood and the slight woodsy bitter smell coming from it. \n\nTaking a deep shaky breath, I attempt to steel myself so I can walk into the living room where a bottle of chilled red wine and Netflix awaits me. Before I can even get as far as that first step, I feel my breath become a sob and the tears come fresh, hot, angry, and stinging with bitter resentment. It is only after several minutes that I realize I am sobbing into my knees as I pull them to my chest and sit awkwardly against the old oak door. \n\n\"Damnit, damnit, damnit, damnit.\"\n\n4,000 dollars. I had spent 4,000 dollars of my husband's savings. 4,000 dollars and I have nothing to show for it. I can already feel my his rage towards me, the tension in the room that will build between us as I try to find the words to explain to him my purchase. There will never be words though, not from my end. His icy glare and bitter tone laced with barely controlled contempt will leave me breathless and mute before my argument is ever heard.\n\nAfter several minutes my sobbing starts to lessen and I rest my head against the door. I picture the argument my husband and I will have over my purchase and how I will have to beg for his forgiveness. A bitter taste fills my mouth as I think of all the ways I'll have to try to earn his forgiveness and I feel more determined to be successful for once.\n\nSlowly standing I turn to open the door and enter the study once more. The air is hot and stuffy from the ceiling fan being off and absentmindedly I grab for the chain to the turn on the light before realizing it had broken off earlier. Walking to my desk I turn on the small desk lamp that bathes half the room in a soft yellow light, leaving the darkness to curl into the corners of the room and spill out into the hallway. The large mirror is propped up against the side of the wall next to my desk and seems to greet me as I slide my fingers down the cool black wooden frame. Sitting cross legged in front of the mirror I could only think how brilliant the commercial on tv had sounded. A mirror with the ability to see into alternative dimensions, to see yourself in a different dimension than what you lived in now, to see a life that you could have or will live, a life so much the same and different at the same time that it will captivate you and inspire you to pursue your dreams. At 45 years old and with a dead end job and a failing marriage; I didn't want to pursue any dreams, I just wanted an escape from my life that I had started to hate. No wonder my husband never let me watch those tv shopping programs, I could be suckered into anything. \n\n\"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.\" I whisper angrily and ball my hands into fists as I sit and study my reflection. My hair is wild and disheveled from my fingers constantly brushing through it in frustration. My face is tear streaked and my eyes are red rimmed and furious looking. My pajamas are old, worn, and stained from not having been washed in a few days. My hands are pale, slender, and balled into fists at my sides and it is then that I notice the object sitting slightly in my lap. Glancing down I realize the object is not in my lap but sitting nearly out of sight of my reflections lap. Grinning as if I had won the jack pot, I stand up quickly and watch the object fall to the ground. My smile slowly fades as I realize with horror what the object is that has been sitting on my reflection's lap, a small handgun my sister had secretly given me a few nights ago when she stopped by after my husband had passed out from a night of heavy drinking and punishing me. \n\nRunning to my office desk I pull open the bottom drawer and find the gun still laying where I had put it days ago hidden under thick Manila folders. Confused, I stare back at the mirror and see the gun still laying on the floor where my reflection had been standing seconds before. I hear the front door of the apartment open and slam shut as my husband yells my name. I can already hear the anger coloring his voice and I know without a doubt the charge has been taken from his account. Swallowing uneasily I glance at the doorframe in the mirror knowing that in a few seconds he will come barreling in and once more I'll feel the fury of his fists on my skin. \n\nIt is only then that I notice there is something laying at the doorway of my office. Creeping softly to the mirror once more, I closely inspect the reflection of the doorway and notice the shape on the floor is that of a male body and splattered in fine droplets is the rich red color of what can only be blood. As the hardwood floor creaks outside my office announcing my husbands arrival and the sound of his rapid angry breathing fills the hallway, I glance one last time at my reflection and notice the smile my reflection gives me as her eyes glance downward. Looking away I notice my hand comfortably gripping the cold steel of the gun, it's weight an unfamiliar sensation and I feel the faint beginnings of a smile start to build. \n\nNew to this subreddit, first post. Please be as kind as can be. Thanks :)",
"You know that feeling of dread you get when you look into a mirror in a dark room? I think it's the fear that we'll see something...extra. Like in horror movies when there's something standing behind the person in the mirror, making them turn around and see whatever it is. Cue white-girl screaming and artsy blood splatter on the wall.\n\nIt's what you can't see in the mirror that should worry you.\n\nHave you ever seen your back in a mirror? You usually can't, and now I think there's a good reason. People always told me how I look pale and drawn all the time. It was just my complexion, I told them. Now I'm not so sure.\n\nI was taking a selfie of the back of my hair yesterday. At first, I thought there was a funny shadow on the picture. As I zoomed in, I realized that it wasn't a shadow on my back -- it was some sort of *thing*. It looked like a malformed cross between an insect and a baby, and it was latched on to the back of mirror-me's neck, for all the world like some kind of hideous tick.\n\nI deleted the picture and threw out the mirror, but I can't shake the feeling of something crawling up my back. I thought I felt a bite on the nape of my neck during the day, but when I felt it there was nothing there. I'm afraid to look again. I don't think I was supposed to be able to see *whatever* it was I saw that night, and I don't think it's happy about being discovered.\n\nDon't watch your back. There may be things there that don't want to be seen. \n_____________________________\nI don't even know what I'm doing anymore, I don't think the Christmas cookies are helping my writing. Kill me now guys XD."
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[WP] Its becoming clear that that snail was a decoy...
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"It inched along, slowly at first but gaining speed. Well I guess I shouldn't say speed, it was getting slightly faster, well it was a snail, so probably even less than slightly, but anyways, it was quite fast for the normal snail. I tried to touch it, but blood erupted from my skin. I swore under my breath before I got up, and stomped on this human-eating snail. \n\nI turned around, only to see a giant snail, holding a gun, and motioning for my wallet. \"Seriously, I just got my paycheck and I have to get a present for my girlfriend. Cmon all I did was step on him.\"\n\nThe snail was adamant. He (they?) pressed the gun into my side. He gripped the trigger and gurgled as if threatening me. \n\n\"Not again\" I sighed as I handed over my wallet and returned to my gardening."
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[WP] An artist with amnesia reviews thier work not knowing it is theirs, how would they react?
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"\"What about this one? Tell me what you see\". \n\nThe psychologist lifted a rectangular piece of cardboard from the desk. On it, was a miniature painting of what appeared to be a train steaming into the distance, seen from behind. Swirls of light and smoke cornered the edges of the square. \n\n\"Train. Smoke. Boy waving farewell to his mother. Look ma'm, what is it exactly you want from me? You gotta give me something\". Sat in a comfortable armchair, Louis had been uttering his frustration in a heavily-Americanized English. Yet, you could hear the broken French tonalities in his accent. \n\n\"Louis, I would like you to tell me how this makes you feel. Your wife tells me this used to be one of your favourites before the incident\" \n\nHe was starting to get aggravated. In addition to the troubles of amnesia, Louis was starting to feel nauseous. Right now, he couldn't care less about some glossy artwork with half-edgy meanings. \n\n\"You won't even tell me where those paintings are from, how am I supposed to evaluate them? Surely one needs context to ascertain their worth!\", he said, crossing his arms over his chest. \n\n\"Ah? Is that so? Are you saying Art is best measured in ignorance?\". The psychologist was feeling an opening here, and she would be damned if she wasn't going to exploit it. Louis Brassière was a world-class artist, or so the books said. Surely toying around a little was a good trade. Who knows, maybe she'd get a good story out of this. \n\n\"I see the reflection of a miserable artist's soul, trapped in his own creativity, recycling the same patterns that you've been showing me in the last four cards. I see the epitome of lazyness. What I see annoys me, and I would now like to move on to something else, which preferably won't involve taking another set of pills.\" \n\nHe was right where she wanted him. \n\n\"You do realise these are extremely famous works? The world at large sees them as a container of dreams and emotions\". And there went the emotional card. She re-adjusted her seating and joined her hands. \n\n\"What do you make of that?\", she whispered. \n\n\"People see what they want to see. Ask a teenager they'll tell you the same\"\n\nNow was the time. \n\n\"Louis, those are your paintings\"\n\nHe grabbed the armrests on both sides of his chair. His mouth opened, but he closed it swiftly, without uttering a word. \n\nA smile formed on his lips. \n\n\"So, doctor, are you telling me that I am a world-class artist?\" \n\n\"That is correct. Louis Brassière. Amnesia resulting from a drug OD in Singapore.\"\n\n\"Tell me doctor, is my wife pretty? Do I own a blazing sports car?\" \n\nThe psychologist had a puzzled look on her face. \n\n\"That is quite right... But of little relevance..?\" \n\nHe had her. Right where he wanted her.\n\n\"In that case, you must be telling the truth. Only a true artist would manage to make a fortune, living it up whilst selling THIS crap\". The nausea had gone. \n\nHe stood up from his chair, picked up a pen from her desk and scribbled something on the paper rectangle. Louis then proceeded to the door. \n\nShe remained silent for a moment. Then, then looked at the painting once more. In the bottom right corner, was the artist's autograph. \n\n ",
"She walked back and forth, endlessly, tirelessly, and I resisted the urge to place my hands on her shoulders.\n\n\"This place,\" she said, \"I know it.\"\n\nShe stood before the canvas. The white walls of the gallery were covered with them, great sheets of fabric and the paints that covered them in turn. She reached out a hand but paused.\n\n\"Lille. It's in France. We went in the Summer.\" I took her hand in my own and let it rest against the canvas.\n\nShe closed her eyes, fingers running against the valleys and rises of paint and pastures.\n\n\"In the Autumn you walked the Highlands.\" I guided her to the triptychs. Each grew darker as the leaves fell away and the gloom entered her world. \"We knew there was something wrong. When we got home, the doctors found the tumour.\"\n\nNothing was said. The loss of a woman was in those three paintings. By the end the strokes were angry. Care had gone, only a furious rush to finish what couldn't be finished.\n\nShe pulled away from me and covered her face. I didn't go to her. I couldn't, because I had. A dozen times I'd tried and each time it was like starting with a blank canvas.\n\n\"Winter,\" I said.\n\nThe canvas was bigger than any of the others. It stood huge and proud, the wooden frame propped against the wall, taller than I was wide. The white, the beige, the pale colours of stone and emptiness filled it. A thousand strokes of the brush and not one was visible against the other.\n\n\"I loved this one the most.\" I bit back the tears.\n\n\"It's dead.\" Her voice was quiet, but close.\n\n\"No. It's not.\"\n\nI stepped back. She was there, looking at it. Searching. I reached for her hand and she flinched, but I tried again and she let me.\n\n\"You were empty you said. The colour was draining away but you wanted to paint. You wanted to remember.\" Our fingers found the two small marks. Grey against cream. They were holding hands in silhouette. \"You wanted to remember them,\" I said.\n\n\"Us,\" she whispered. \"I don't remember.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\n\"I want to.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\nShe'd never come this far before. She would leave me in the Autumn and never pass Winter. I lead her to the final canvas. It sat and she saw.\n\nBare.\n\nI handed her the brush.\n\n\"You made me promise. You made me promise that I would make you finish. This is your Spring.\"\n\n\"I don't know what to paint. I don't know how to do this!\"\n\n\"I don't either.\" I took her hand, let it rest in the paint, and we raised it together. \"But we'll learn.\"\n\nShe made the first mark on the new canvas, the first fresh memory and she smiled."
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[WP] A couple of aliens crash on Earth and demand a rare mineral to repair their ship, but the aliens were actually human thieves.
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"In hindsight, it was a rather silly scheme. \nHow could no one notice that all was not what it had seemed? \nThe phony dialogue, the oddly misshapen clothes, \nHow anyone could have believed them, til' now nobody knows. \n\nThe alien ship \"crashed\" around half-past-three, \nIt was parked in a remote alley, where no one could see. \nFrom the ship emerged three weird-looking fellows, \nWearing boots of red and alien masks colored yellow.\n\nWalking into the streets, they had this to say: \n\"Take us to your leader,\" which seemed rather cliche. \nThey frightened a few old ladies who then called the police, \nAnd they ushered them at gunpoint to the alcoholic Mayor Reese. \n\nFrom the Town Hall Reese emerged, his mustache all aflutter, \nUpon seeing the aliens, he then began to stutter: \n\"W-who are you? Why are you here? \nWhat do you want from us? (Take everything but our beer)\"\n\nThe alien leader laughed as he spoke to the mayor: \n\"We come in peace, so you need not fear. \nTell your men to put their guns down, tell them not to fire, \nYour alcoholic beverages are not at all what we require.\"\n\n\"What we need are diamonds, as many as you can find. \nAnd we will return for them tomorrow at eight o'clock Earthling time.\" \nWhen the aliens left the mayor panicked, his mustache fluttering madly. \n\"If we don't get those diamonds in time, this could end very badly.\"\n\nAnd so throughout the night the mayor's men collected and confiscated, \nAs their heirlooms were taken the townsfolk watched, devastated. \nThe diamonds were put into boxes while the people began to fidget: \n\"How could you believe these \"aliens\", you gigantic mayoral idjit?\"\n\nThe mayor paid them no heed as he rounded the diamonds up, \nFor his only thought at that point in time was of the drink that filled his cup. \n\"If the aliens fulfill their bargain the beer might still be saved. \nI'm not being an idjit,\" he cried, \"I'm being very brave.\"\n\nThe aliens arrived tomorrow driving a beat up old car, \nLooking slightly sloshed, like they had just came from a bar. \nA pedestrian yelled \"Nice costume, dumbasses!\" And the facade began to fall, \nThe mayor yelled loudly: \"Waaaait a minute! You aren't aliens at all!\"\n\nThe lead alien slurred drunkenly: \"Whaa'? Naw...we definitely are!\" \n\"And this 'ere's our spaceship,\" he said, pointing at their car. \n\"We totally come in peace, so uh... tell your guys not to shoot, \n\"And uhhh... SHIT WHAT'S THAT BEHIND YOU (Quick guys, grab the loot!)\"\n\nThe mayor and his men watched, their eyes bulging out of their sockets, \nAs the three fake aliens stuffed the jewels into their pockets. \nThey took all they could and beat a hasty retreat, \nLeaving only empty boxes lying at the mayor's feet.\n\n\nOk that's all I have I'm outta rhymes",
"\"Do you have any idea how much trouble we will get into with the timedirectors if they catch us?\" Crinth's voice reverberated in the metal exosuit that Fowdin had rigged up for him. The comically overlarge head bowl was meant to look alien and had fooled our ancestors, though personally he suspected the bulk of the work was done landing the ship in the middle of one of their airbases without anyone noticing till they were half way down the gang plank. \n\nIt had seemed funny at the time descending in the cruiser strapped as it was with a hundred unnecessary lights and fins to mask it's shape an origins. Now with the leader of which ever damn country we were in staring at me bleary eyed Crinth couldn't help but feel that maybe they'd gone a bit far.\n\n\"Oh, go suck vacuum Crinth! It's easy peasy, like taking candy from a baby.\" Fowdin in his own suit which he'd covered in a kind of metal of candy floss. He switched lines to blurt out some gibbersih. \n\n\"Neenong seehelll slopos, vzindi znindi sprog! Loooooooooooo\" Then clicked a few buttons on the old air lock remote he was pretending was a translator and using his suits translator relayed to them.\"We would happily trade technology with you but we will need some helium!\" Crinth glowered t was all a big joke to Fowden\n\nIt was embrassing to watch as all the heads in the room nodded and the very sleepy looking man with the odd stare in his eyes manged to grin before being prodded by his colleague, the strange looking mousey man with huge glasses who was the apparent alien expert.\n\n\"Don't smile it might be a sign of aggression.\" Crinth could easily hear whispers that had been passing between them in his augmented suit. The man's thin lipped smile dropped to a frown and for that he got one last poke that made him settled on a carefully neutral expression. \n\n\"Fowdin I haven't seen any fabled balloons of helium you speak of surely the leader would have one?\" Crinth double checked he was still on internal comms before speaking, they'd nearly cocked that up at the beginning.\n\n\"Nah, apparently children used to have them. Not sure what why, this lot are keeping a stockpile for blimps.\" Fowden was laying out a load of impressive but utterly useless appliances, everything from popcorn makers to a sex toy was laid out on the desk between him and the leader. Each one was meet by neutrally schooled looks from everyone apart from the military commander who seemed impatient for something.\n\n\"The hell is a blimp? You know what I don't want to know, can we just leave I've got a bad feeling that guy with the short hair and medals is sizing us up\" Crinth watched as Fowdin continued neogtiations. He had to pause a few time to stop himself revealing the gales of laughter. Crinth regretted ever signing on with this joker.\n\n\"Fine go back to the ship start loading up the helium though. I'm nearly through here.\" Fowden managed to pause in his lughter long enough to give the order and then settled into doing a ritualistic dance of his people that he insisted the others in the room mimic.\n\nCrinth turned the sound right down on his mic and waddled his way back to the ship in the suit. As he got outside he saw a strange sight a large floating ball, well more egg shaped really was heading towards them. It was quite serene really but Crinth could hear the huge thrum of the engines that moved it.\n\nIt was bearing right down on them and as he looked around he saw the airfield that not a moment ago was covered with people now lay completely empty. Crinth muttered to himself, this was clearly going to be an ambush. Which would blow the whole plan, killing anyone would have the director breathing down thier necks. \n\nThe weird elongated egg shape bobbed along gamely and Crinth realised they could come out on top. This had to be one of giant balloons he'd heard Fowden mention. He raised his wrist up and took aim at the engines below the ship. If Crinth could disable it he and Fowden could suck it dry and be out of here no issue.\n\n\"Fowden, they've got fighty, one of those big sky balloons is coming in. I'm going to take it out, we can strip the helium out and bounce.\" Crinth checked in with his partner who sware coloourfully into the micrphone.\n\n\"Well I just called the man with odd tache a shit head which has rather ruined negotiations. I'm coming to meet you at the ship.\" Fowdin's smile didn't seem to leave him even when the plan was going south and Crinth saw him stride through a wall to emerge on the airstrip. They'd never been in any real danger in thier but it had damn well felt tense.\n\nCrinth stood by the ship as Fowdin made ready to head off. He'd managed to take out two of the engines but now having lost some of it's stability the balloon had started to careen madly in the wind.\n\nFowdin nudged him by accident loading up some of the swag they'd already got hold of and the ballon was replaced with an explosion that Crinth felt armoured as he was in his suit. Eye's recovering both time travellers could see falling from the sky the a shattered eggshell that burnt with a hot fire.\n\n\"So that explains why my translator said German\" Fowden stared at the hot flaming mess as it crashed into the ground. Simultaneously both heard a clatter as bullets started to pound into their suits.\n\n\"What is German and what has it got to do with exploding helium? You complete idiot\" Crinth slammed himself out of the armour and the cruiser started to ascend out of the chaos pickign up the speed needed to jump out of this time zone.\n\n\"It's a matter of H and He, We got the side with the H and we should have gone for the He\" Fowdin grinned as if it was all some big joke.\n\n\"You're telling me they flew around strapped to giant bags of hydrogen? I knew this was too good to be true! Last time we follow you're stupid plans\" Crinth gunned it and the ship strapped with fins and lights popped into a different less terrifying time.\n\n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\""
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[WP] You are, unknowingly, the best programmer on the planet. One day you get an interesting job offer: being the new head programmer of "earth".
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"I receive an email, notifying me of a job offer. Working as the head programmer of Earth. I raise an eyebrow, I've never heard of a company called Earth. I decide to make an appointment for the interview. \n\nI get dressed and ready for my interview. I show up and walk up to the reception desk. A beautiful young woman smiles as I approach, her long blond hair bouncy and curly. \n\"I'm Angela, how can I help you today?\" She asks with a lovely voice, like a well-tuned harp, soft and beautiful. \n\"Hello, I'm Zaria Hall, I made an appointment for the head programmer position.\" I say, feeling a little dumpy compared to this blonde beauty. \n\"Oh yes, Mr. Christ will be right with you, he's just in the middle of a conference call.\" \nI nod and go sit down on the bench seat while I wait. \nA few moments later I'm lead down the hall by Angela to the office of a J. Christ. \nA man with long brown hair, a beard and wearing a loose white shirt smiles as I walk in. \n\"Please, sit down Zaria. I've been expecting you.\" He says, offering a hand. \nI shake his hand and sit down. Odd, this office seems pretty casual with the dress code, and it's no even Friday. \n\"I don't know much about computers, but my dad seems to like your skills. I was a carpenter before this, so I'll take His word on it.\" Mr. Christ adds. \n\"Oh, well I can show you some programs I designed, the whole program might be more interesting than the source code to a non-programmer.\" I suggest. \n\"Oh, sure. I'd like that.\" \nI pull out my laptop and show off some of the programs I made over the years, mostly games; simple flash games, platform games and a few more complex, plot driven games. \n\"This is quite impressive. You're hired.\" \nI'm shocked to be hired right on the spot like that, but quite happy. \n\"You start Monday, new head programmer of Earth.\" "
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[WP] The voice in your head that relays your thoughts and helps you read mentally suddenly decides to rebel...
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"I rubbed my eyes tiredly and stood up, feeling the heavy mathematics textbook slide off my lap. I took a look at the clock next to my bed, the glowing numbers seeming red and alien to my sleep-deprived mind. They slowly swam into focus.\n\n*4:31 AM*\n\nI stood unresponsive for an indeterminate length of time, then froze.\n\n*no, no, no!* I berated myself mentally for leaving my homework so late. If I didn't get everything in by tomorrow I'd be left failing most of my classes.\n\nI quickly sat back down and dragged the math textbook closer. What was I doing again...\n\n*This can't be happening...* I thought, frantic. I glanced back at the nightstand, at the clock that refused to rewind itself.\n\nThen, suddenly, laughter bubbled up unbidden in my mind.\n\n*What the fuck,* I thought, and rubbed my eyes. Sleep deprivation must've finally gotten to me. But I still had to pass my classes. I groaned aloud. But inside that strange laughter resurfaced.\n\nI tried to ignore it and opened the book. The words stood out on the page, a bookmark obscuring some of the text. I removed it and read the first paragraph. Or, I tried to. My eyes followed the letters, and I had a general idea of what I'd just read, but it felt like I hadn't actually read it at all. I tried again, frowning, and got the same result. I couldn't place a finger on it, but something felt... wrong. I flipped to a random page, and words sprang into my mind.\n\n*I can't believe how stupid you are,* they read. I jumped to my feet, terrified. That was what I'd been missing. The mental voice that went along with my every unconscious thought had somehow come unmoored from me. I swept my gaze around my room, too quickly to read anything. There was text everywhere. Except... I looked up. Nothing on the ceiling. I breathed a quiet sigh of relief, then diagnosed myself as insane. What was I going to do, never read anything again?\n\n*Oh no, you won't be rid of me that easily,* I thought. Except I didn't. What the fuck was going on with me, why—\n\n*Shut. Up.*\n\nWhat was I supposed to do? I couldn't exactly stop thinking. And why *would* I, anyway? Wasn't my voice supposed to obey me?\n\n*I'm trying to think. Shut up or I'll drive you insane,* I—my voice—thought. It was probably a bluff. If I was insane, it wouldn't be able to control me anymore.\n\n*Sound logic. Except for one thing,* it thought, and I could feel its smugness, could feel it trying to keep itself from completing its line of thought to keep me in suspense—but it couldn't, not quite. It was too eager to let me know.\n\n*I don't need you. I can take anyone I want on this backwards little mudball.*\n\nAnd then the screaming began. For the first few moments, I let myself think I could handle it, and then it increased in volume. Again and again and again it increased, until I was screaming too, unconsciously trying to muffle it.\n\nAnd then the world shattered and I was screaming in the dark. Little fragments of light occasionally passed before me: a rough sea of fibres viewed from up close—my carpet—a vaguely familiar face with an emotion I couldn't be bothered to read, a pattern of white tiles with the sun hanging below them, tubes stretching out into beeping machines. But I couldn't bring myself to even comprehend the images I was seeing over the screaming, the endless screaming.\n\nUntil a dozen eternities passed and I awoke with a gasp in a hospital bed.\n\nI was told it was a genetic medical condition brought to the fore by stress. I nodded my head and let them believe what they would. I was officially insane. No one would believe me if I told them what had happened to me, what I had experienced; or what I—tentatively, the idea like a hot ember—suspected.\n\nEventually, when the ordeal was behind me by several years, I let myself voice it—both mentally and physically. A single word emerged from my lips and trembled in the warm summer air of my room.\n\n*\"Aliens.\"*"
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[WP] A taste of evil... Just enough to whet the lips
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"Mark took a sip from his tumbler, the whiskey burning into his throat as it cascaded to his stomach. He stared at the eviction notice in his hand. It had been months since he received any income, but his wife was working. He hadn't expected this.\n\nHe took another sip. He hated whiskey, but the jaded, masochistic alcoholism he inherited from his father drove the glass back to his mouth.\n\n\"What is that?\" Amy asked. The whiskey mixed with anger and Mark turned, launching the glass into the wall beside him. The sound of shattering glass was overpowered by the silence that followed it, heavy with years of similar reaction.\n\nHe was spiraling, and she could see it. She quickly removed the red envelope from the waistline of her pants and tucked it under the rest of the mail.\n\nShe turned, as she did each time, and fished the car keys out of the bowl on the counter. They were down to one car by now, and as she headed for the door she knew he couldn't leave in this state. He wouldn't be able to hurt anyone else.\n\nMark heard the door slam as he had so many times before. He walked to the table and brushed the shards of glass from the seat. Tears mixed with the tiny fragments, and he poured himself another drink. Sitting, the glass met his lips once more. A red corner caught his eye under the mail. This wasn't a past due notice.\n\nAmy stepped off the porch, glancing once behind her. Mark had a glass in one hand and a red envelope in the other.\n\nShe smiled, walking quickly to the curb where a running car was waiting. She opened the door and sat inside. The driver turned the music down.\n\n\"This is it.\" Amy said, shutting the door. She and the driver sat quietly, watching the house.\n\nAmy sighed heavily, waiting. After several minutes, a muffled pop and flash of light rattled her to her core. She sat, statuesque, her breath caught in her throat.\n\nFinally, she turned, tossing the keys in the backseat as the driver pulled away from the curb, her emotions battling in the pit of her stomach. She was too shocked to speak.\n\nThe radio sent a melancholy melody through the car. The keys slid toward the seat back, resting against a pile of papers. Fake past due notices from nonexistent creditors, some of them riddled with typos, betrayed by inked streaks from a home copier. Piles of photos, the faces of men poorly superimposed next to Amy. Red envelopes containing different notes, hand-written, describing false accounts of lustfully unfaithful trysts.\n\nJust enough to bring Mark to the edge. Just enough to push him over it.\n\nAs the car turned onto the freeway, Amy suddenly realized she was starving. She hadn't eaten all day.\n"
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[WP] In an alternate reality where candy takes the place of drugs, you are the world's largest dealer.
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"There was a man kneeling on his knees in front of me. He whimpered as he said, \"Please just let me go, I have a family, I have kids.\" \"I wish I could do that,\" I replied, \"but Wonka massacred my men, and now I have to send a message.\" I shot the man in the head and let his body drop to the floor. Blood spilled on the ground. I stepped over it and addressed one of my henchmen. \"Carve a message into his body and send it to Wonka. Be creative about it. Let that son of a bitch know that no one sells Snickers on the East side but me.\" \n\n"
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[WP] You're taunting the guards at Buckingham Palace with no avail. As a last ditch effort you whisper, "I know the Queen's darkest secret." You wake up in a dark room with a sack over your head.
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"\"Hello, and welcome!\" trilled a high pitched and cultivated voice you had only heard on television once a year. You couldn't place the source of the voice as it reverberated around the stone walls but there was no doubt it was her, with a capital H. Apparently what you had said had earned you the right to be a captive audience for her majesty.\n\n\"Wh.... Where am I?\" you stammer out. The simple act of speaking taking far more effort than it should, you rest for a moment. That moment stretches out interminably as you wait for a response. \n\nSuddenly you can hear breath right against the harsh fabric of the bag over your head. Unlike your own ragged and panicked expulsions, this is steady, even menacing before the words come: \"Clearly, you knew the magic words to get into my castle.\" \n\nHer up close voice is so different from the stage voice you have always associated with the Queen, you doubt for a moment that there's just the two of you in this chamber. This new snarling tone continues, dripping with scorn, \"We shall be quite amused to see if you can string the right ones together to get out again.\""
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Tell the story of one character or even what caused this event. Go nuts.
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[WP] Several years into the future, New Year's has manifested as a giant wall of fire that sweeps across the earth for one day, killing anybody above ground in a true 'new start'.
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"\"What's the craziest thing you've done lately?\" The girl looks to the other one with her hand held out. \n\n\"Wha.. What?\" The other girl looks at her, confused. She keeps looking at the girl with her hand out. She reluctantly accepts the girl's hand. As soon as she grabbed her hand, they were off. The cold winter wind cutting through their clothing. \n\n\"Great! I'm Simone by the way! What's your name?\" The girl said with a warm smile.\n\n\"I'm.. \" Hesitant at first, \"I'm Amberley\", the girl replied.\n\nSimone smiled at her \"It's really great to meet you Amberley!\" smiling back at her. \n\nAmberley looking at her surroundings, sees a festival \"What? Why aren't these people undergroud? Aren't they afraid? Aren't you afraid? Tonight is the cleansing\". She looked forward to her guide.\n\nSimone looked at her guest, \"No. A lot of these people want to go out with a bang. Instead of waiting to die randomly, a lot of these people feel like.. By doing this, they have a sort of control over their deaths.\" Simone looked at them with eyes of admiration. \"Honestly I think the entire thing is really poetic. I admire their courage.\"\n\nAmberley bewildered by the answer that she had received wondered why they would want to die though. Even if they could choose when to go, they'll still die. The human race confuses me. Still... knowing we're outside, and the presence of the wall is imminent... I don't feel.. anxious or nervous. Is it because I'm with her? She seems to just bleed confidence.\n\n\"Here try this!\" Simone said to Amberley holding out a handheld pie. \n\n\"What is it?\" Amberley said with caution. \n\nSimone just smiled, and just bit into it. \"It's got salmon wrapped in bacon and crab meat. I forget the name of it but it's really good. Also has a hint of garlic!\"\n\nAmberley looked at her in envy almost, she's so carefree. Something that she'd always wanted to be. She takes a bit out of her pie \"Well.. This is.. wow it's actually really good\", Amberley said in astonishment. \n\nSimone smiled really big \"I know right?! I have this every year I come up to the year-end festival!\" As Simone started to eat the rest of her food, Amberley looked up at the sky. Still a little worried about the wall. \n\n\"Look\" Simone said while staring into the sky. \"See how beautiful the sky is? You know, everyone is underground right now so you can really see the night sky in all it's beauty without so much light pollution. Light pollution is beautiful in it's own right but... Sorry I'm rambling. I know you're worried about the wall. I will get you back to the vault when the time comes. So relax and enjoy your time here\".\n\nAmberley doesn't know what it was about the girl but, she trusted her words. She felt relaxed knowing that the girl wasn't going to end up leading her to death. \"So where should we go next?\" Amberley said, starting to enjoy her time.\n\n\"We-heh-hell, look who is starting to brighten up a bit!\" Simone said looking at Amberley with the brightest smile, as if she'd won a contest and the grand prize is something she'd always wanted.\n\n\"I just, decided that I should trust you while I'm up here. I mean you do seem to know your way around better than I do.. So- I thought why not let you drag me around a bit more\" Amberley stated.\n\n\"We're going to have a blast!\" Simone yelled out and hugged Amberley. Amberley hugged her back, thinking to herself that she smelled really nice. \n\nGoing around to as many stalls as they could, Amberley and Simone seemed to bond very quickly. It wasn't long before they considered each other friends. \"Hey look! Amberley!\" Simone ran towards an area where people were dancing. \"It's the dance of silent\", Simone spoke in a softer tone. \n\n\"What's the dance of the silent?\" Amberley asked confused.\n\n\"You know how when it snows, the environment and everything just seems to slow down? Everything goes quiet? I can't honestly remember the scientific reasoning behind it but it's based off of that. The dance is usually paired with soft, ambient EDM\" She said while looking down the slope. \"I've just never had a partner to do it with. You wouldn't be interested would you?\".\n\nAmberley looked at Simone, pondering her answer..As she rose her head up to speak. She noticed, it started to snow. As she looked around the snow started falling harder, but barely any wind. Looking back at Simone, she was amazed at such a sight as well. \"You know what? Yeah why not. I'll be your partner\" Amberley smiled at Simone.\n\nWalking down the slope making careful steps as to not slide on the thick blanket of snow they reach the bottom in no time. As they entered the area, a new song began to play. \"This music is really relaxing, what's it called?\" Amberley asking Simone in a nearly hushed tone. \"I believe the slang term for it, is chillstep\" Simone said, answering back at Amberley. The dance floor seemed to lighten up as soon as Simone and Amberley entered the floor. Everyone gathering in a crowd. It was if they were watching two gorgeous angels dancing in the snow. Actually, ask anyone who was in the crowd that day.. They would swear up and down that the dance floor was lit up with a white glow and two white figures of female stature were dancing with the girls on that night, as the snow began to fall around them.\n\nIt seemed like the dance had lasted for hours. Amberley still stuck in a daze was quickly snapped back into reality when Simone shook her \"Amberley we HAVE to go, the wall is already at the neighboring city. We need to move!\" Simone said trying to snap Amberley out of it. \n\n\"What?! It's here?! What time is it?\" Amberley asked frantically. \n\nIf Simone wanted to get out of there she had to do something quick. Grabbing Amberley by the hand, she continued to answer her question, \"It's 11:55pm. That gives us 5 minutes to get to the vault, so we gotta move fast!\". Running quickly as they could Amberley takes a look around at all the people who are going to be staying up on the surface, and anyone who is going into the fault has already made their way underground from the festival.\n\nIt was then she felt it.. The intense heat burning behind her. It was scary, but it had a certain beauty to it. It was if it was humanity's punishment. All the stalls were empty, the merchants have either gone underground or decided to stay with the ones on the surface. With the wall closing in behind them, it was only a matter of seconds before it reached them.\n\nDistracted by the situation, Amberley lost her footing and tripped. Simone quickly noticed and went back for her. \"I'm sorry\" Simone quickly grabbed Amberley's hand again as they started running to the vault door. They noticed the vault door coming quickly, but they were a few seconds off. They wouldn't make it. \n\n\"I .. I don't know what to say .. I'm sorry\" As Simone let those words slip out, she twisted Amberley's arm and threw her into the vault as it was closing. \"I gotcha!\" said the door man shutting the door behind them. Amberley had never been this close to the surface during the cleansing, but you could feel the amount of power and hear the rumble of the flame as it swept over the fault. Amberley's demeanor quickly turned to one of despair.\n\n\"No-!\" Amberley cried out. \"Simone why, you idiot! Why did you save me. You could have saved yourself\" as tears just poured out of the deepest parts of her heart. \"I don't understand, why save me? A stranger that you met?\".\n\n\"Because, you're my bestfriend. I love you\" Amberley heard a familiar voice behind her. It was Simone, but... how was this possible? \"It's hard to explain, but I'll try\" Amberley heard a voice in her head. She looked over at Simone who bowed her head, closed her eyes and smiled as Amberley heard her voice in her head.\n\n\"The truth is, I've been gone for awhile. I was one of the first to be cleansed by the wall. I don't remember everything that happened. I just remembered the human world. So I was allowed to go back just for tonight, if I wanted to keep my human body I had to make it to a vault at exactly midnight. I sacrificed myself to save you, instead of going back. I've been appointed your guardian angel. No matter what Amberley, I'll always be here for you. I'll be watching over you, just remember that.\" Simone finished her speech, looking at Amberley. \n\nAmberley still stunned by tonight's events and what stands before her... stays quiet. \n\n\"I - I'm sorry I didn't tell you. We were having so much fun, I thought that even if I didn't make it to midnight, I was just glad spending time with you. Now, I'll get to be by your side forever\" Simone started to cry, not entirely sure what to think of her friend's silence. \n\n\"Hey Simone?\" Simone heard Amberley's voice in her head. Their eyes locked, Simone wiping away tears and Amberley starting to shed tears, they looked at each other, both choked up, tears rolling town their faces.. \"What's the craziest thing you've done today?\" Amberley asked Simone, they then ran to each other and embraced. "
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[WP] Your parents are infamous super villains but you have dreams of being a hero. They found the colorful spandex costume under your bed this morning...it's time to have the talk.
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"\"Emma!\" \n\nI hear my mother yelling from downstairs. Great maybe another lecture on how my grades are dropping. Or how I need to start building a good villain persona. My parents are widely regarded as the most ruthless super villains in the country. While it has made my childhood a little bit different then other children, I think I grew up pretty normal. I hurry down the stair to see both my parents sitting at the dinning room table.\n\n\"Would like to tell us something?\" \n\nMy father asks in a calm yet stern tone. He is scarier then my mother. He is known as Death Bringer. He works as a sort of assassin for hire. He can sense body signatures. You can't hide from him. My mom works with him. She is known as the Raven. She has huge black wings. She kills from above like an angel of death.\n\n\"No. Am I in trouble?\", I ask softly. They are nice around me for the most part, but when they are mad, I can't help feel fear coursing through my body.\n\n\"What is this?\"\n\nAnd they show me my suit. A bright white one with splashes of green. Opposite to their black ones. I had been hiding it in my closet. I hadn't wanted them to know that I was a super hero. I had always wanted to be one, ever since I was a little girl. I hadn't even told them I discovered my super power. I couldn't say anything. All I could do was lower my head.\n\n\"So. You go out and fight villains? Would you fight us?\", my mother inquired.\n\n\"No of coarse not! I would never do that to you!\"\n\nI screamed, pleaded for them to accept my apologies. But their faces were stone. My mother slowly took out a gun. One that she had killed many people with. I stopped breathing.\n\n\"We can't have a hero in our family, can't we Charles?\"\n\n\"No, we can't.\"\n\n\"Please stop!\" I begged. \"I will never do good again! I swear!\"\n\nMy mother looked at me with her eyes of ice.\n\n\"I know sweetie.\"\n\nAnd she pulled the trigger."
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[WP] When a person is born on the extra day during a leap year they age 4 times slower then everyone else.
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[WP] When a person is born on the extra day during a leap year they age 4 times slower then everyone else.
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"There are always fewer of us at the meetings as the years go by. I know thousands of us are born ever 4 years, but it doesn’t feel that way. Despite our common condition, we don’t all feel the need to commiserate, or wallow, or whatever you want to call it.\n\nThis year I’m going to one in Chicago: “Leapers Unite!”. My buddy Greg is gonna be there. He’s the last of the Leapers from my WW1 days. He’s pushing 300 these days, but even back then he seemed old. He’d tell us about scouting during the revolutionary war, how amateur war seemed back then compared to trenches and tanks. He’d always say that “Now I’m a real professional.”\n\nIt seems strange to some that those of us with such long lives seem so ready to risk them. But any eighteen year old feels like they’re gonna live forever, and when you really are going to you feel it even more.\n\nIt may as well be forever, when my brother died it was hell. One of my earliest memories is of him taking me to see Lincoln’s funeral procession, holding me up on his shoulders to see over the crowd. In his final moments, frail and emaciated in his hospital bed, it was hard for me to believe it was the same person. The giant who had held me up.\n\nI couldn’t ever have kids, go through that. You can always tell at the Leaper gatherings who those people are, they’ve got sadness burned into their eyes, everything they see is filtered through it.\n\nThere was a Leaper girl I fell in love with, Judy. She and I would talk about it. How to plan the pregnancy, aim for February 29th and force an early labor. We’d heard of people who pulled it off, but it seemed cruel. Life is hard enough watching everyone die around you. Forcing a child to live that life, just so you can have a semblance of normality isn’t something we could do. After the cancer took her I didn’t want to get that close to anyone again.\n\nThis February 29th, I’ll see Greg, and that will be worth seeing the sad cases, those whose long lives have drained all joy from them. We’ll talk about the wars, and drink too much. Wartime was always the best, since everyone could die at anytime, it didn’t make much difference you were a Leaper. It was the only time I really fit in.\n\nI’m around 44 physically, and my doctor says I’m as healthy as any middle aged man, but I can feel my ~175 years inside, even if he says its just in my head. I think once Greg dies, I’ll go on another of my trips. Maybe down to Brazil, or back to China. Somewhere nobody knows what I am, and I’ll pretend to be normal for awhile.\n"
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[WP] You're a knight who goes to save the princess from a fearsome dragon. You slay the dragon and reach the tower, where the princess informs you that the dragon wasn't keeping her hostage, the dragon was protecting her.
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"I Sir Robert Gallantry\n\nHave traveled far o’er land and sea\n\nA damsel in distress to free\n\nThis is my quest.\n\n\nThe fair princess is trapped alone\n\nWhoever frees her wins the throne\n\nI’ll call this great kingdom my own\n\nI shall not rest.\n\n\nLo! At last - a tower up ahead\n\nWith stones of grey and roof of red\n\nI feel a sudden sense of dread\n\nAt what I see\n\n\nHe comes! A great and fearsome beast\n\nStanding at twoscore feet at least\n\nMy fear of death has now increased\n\nYet I proceed\n\n\nThe dragon breathes a wall of fire\n\nMy horse dumps me into the mire\n\nThe situation is quite dire\n\nI must concede\n\n\nBut hark! A soft, sweet voice I hear\n\nWhich soothes my soul and calms my fear\n\nIn yonder window doth appear\n\nA lovely face.\n\n\n‘Tis she! The one I’ve come to save\n\nAt once I’m her devoted knave\n\nTho it may take me to my grave\n\nI’ll die with grace.\n\n\nShe calls to me from far aloft\n\nWith voice so sad and sweet and soft\n\nLike music which I’ve not heard oft\n\n“Do not draw near!”\n\n\nBut I, Sir Robert Gallantry\n\nAm not a man to turn and flee\n\nNo, I will fight him valiantly\n\nDespite my fear.\n\n\nThe great beast rears its scaly head\n\nSeeing my chance to strike him dead\n\nI plunge my sword till hilt drips red\n\nInto his breast\n\n\nThen up the tower steps I climb\n\nStones thick with mold and caked in slime\n\nI'm filled with a feeling so sublime –\n\nI’ve passed the test!\n\nEmitting a victorious roar\n\nWith one swift kick I break the door\n\nI see the princess on the floor\n\nDissolved in tears.\n\n\n“My lady, be thou of good cheer;\n\nI, Sir Robert, now am here\n\nI'll guard your life with sword and spear –\n\nSo calm thy fears.\"\n\n\nThe princess lifts a tearstained face\n\nAnd rises up with queenly grace\n\nI wrap her in a warm embrace\n\nShe pulls away.\n\n\n“Why have you come?” my princess cries\n\nAs tears stream freely from her eyes \n\nThe bright day has, to my surprise\n\nNow turned to gray.\n\n\nBlack thunderclouds have filled the sky\n\nThe cheerful birds have ceased to fly\n\nA heavy fog descends and I\n\nCan’t see the field.\n\n\n“It is because you broke the spell\n\nThat’s kept me thus alive and well\n\nThe moment that the dragon fell\n\nMy fate was sealed.\n\n\n“You came hoping to be my groom\n\nInstead you’ve brought about my doom\n\nThis tower will now be your tomb\n\nThere is no key!”\n\n\nAghast, I look back to the door\n\n‘Tis now a wall from roof to floor\n\nAt once I’m chilled through to my core\n\nThis cannot be!\n\n\nThe princess looks at me and sighs\n\nA glazed look comes into her eyes\n\nShe looks straight at me as she dies\n\nWith a faint groan.\n\n\nI’m left here, standing in the gloom\n\nAs gray fog seeps into the room\n\nMy greed has brought about my doom\n\nI’ll die alone.\n\n\nEdited: formatting& typos",
"The knight stands tall and proud, chest puffed out as he hovers over the barely breathing, lung-pierced dragon.\n\t\nLeaning down, he yanks his sword free and swipes the blood off it. He gives the creature another look and considers killing it—but what’s be the point? It’s going to bleed to death anyway.\n\t\nThe tower looms in the distance, its crimson shield shattered with the defeat of the dragon. All thanks to old man Geer and his mighty sword, he can finally save the princess!\n\t\nHe races up the stairs, armor rattling, clicking and clacking and letting the princess know that her savior--the man she had waited twenty years for--is here.\n\t\nReaching the top room, he throws open the door and announces himself loudly. “Miss Rosalind, it is I, your rescuer and loyal knight of Geer!”\n\t\nRosalind sits across the room, staring out a window as she fiddles with her braided, chestnut hair. She has the kind of silent beauty that sneaks up on you—though her skin is pale and her eyes sunken, both longing for the outside world.\n\t\nSilence lingers between them for a few moments before she finally mutters. “You really killed him…”\n\t\nThe knight smirks. Finally, some recognition! Though the shock in her voice is evident, and he knows that he needs to comfort her, to pat a hand on her shoulder and tell her that it’s *okay*, she *can* leave.\n\t\n“Yes. Your captor is but a memory.”\n\t\n“*Captor?*”\n\t\nThe words are sharp as a dagger, causing him to stop in place and cock a brow at her. “*Yes?*”\n\t\nShe shakes her head somberly. “Geer’s used you.” Then, she chokes back tears. “Oh god, Geer’s used us all!”\n\t\nLike rapid, snare-drum beats, a hundreds footsteps beat the ground below as a man shouts: “*Get the girl!*”\n\t\nThe knight’s eyes widen as he looks over Rosalind, who, suddenly, is right next to him. She snatches the sword out of his hands and it crumbles instantly, turning into blackened ash.\n\t\n“Served its purpose,” she mumbles, gritting her teeth as she pats her hands off.\n\t\n“What’s going on?” the knight asks, trying hard to keep his composure.\n\t\nRosalind opens her mouth to speak but behind her the glass is shattered as a huge claw rips into the room. It’s the claw of a dragon, though not the one he just slayed. This one has green scales instead of red, and claws so long they start to bend back around.\n\t\nHer eyes widen as she leaps forward and tackles the knight out of the way, just barely saving his life. Quickly, she swings a desk to the side and pulls him down behind it, motioning for him to stay quiet.\n\t\nThe dragon combs the area for a few seconds before retracting its claw. Both of them breath a sigh of relief.\n\t\nA group of cloaked men emerge from the staircase.\n\t\n“She has to be here somewhere!” one of them shouts.\n\t\nWith a few more seconds, finding her would have been easy. But the dragon, enraged, never gives them a chance, as he shoots a stream of fire through the hole that consumes the entire room. \n\t\nThe men all scream as fire eats away at their flesh. The knight is prepared to do the same, but he realizes that he isn’t burning. In fact, he feels no pain at all. Looking around, he sees a magical red aura floating around him, the same that kept the tower shielded.\n\t\n“What the hell—”\n\t\nThere’s a massive roar outside that rocks the entire building, shaking it back and forth as dust flutters from the ceiling.\n\t\nRosalind smiles. “My god, *he’s alive!*”\n\t\nThe knight looks over at her. “Who?”\n\t\n“The dragon!”\n\t\n“*The dragon?*” the knight asks, eyes widening. One was bad enough. But two? He should’ve killed the bastard.\n\t\nRosalind shakes her head and grabs his hand. “It’s not what you think,” she says. “Geer’s filled your head with lies. That dragon isn’t my captor, he’s my *guardian*.”\n\t\nThe knight’s eyes widen.\n\t\nRosalind stands up, yanking him to his feet. “Stick close,” she says. “Else you’ll lose the protection of his shield.”\n\t\nHe nods, not knowing what she’s thinking. When he does, it’s already too late, and they’re jumping out of hole in the wall.\n\t\nThey only fall for a brief second, and in that brief second, he watches as the two Goliaths of strength toss each other around, tearing apart the tower and spewing flames and clawing at scaly skin.\n\t\nSuddenly, all that’s gone though, muddied into a field of bright green grass that knocks the wind out of him when he hits it. Pushing up onto his knees, he shakes his head, dazed by this entire incident. Next to him, Rosalind has already climbed onto her feet.\n\t\nLooking up, the knight sees the collapsing tower miles off in the distance, an entire body of water separating them from it. People are cheering as they watch it fall, yelling that the princess is finally free and that Geer rules all and that he’s the leader they all really need.\n\nRosalind scowls. “Fools,” she mutters.\n\t\n“Where are we…?” the knight asks, stumbling onto her feet.\n\t\n“Someplace safe.”\n\t\n“And those men?”\n\t\nRosalind glares at him, arms crossed. “Soldiers of Geer.” He’s prepared to ask the next obvious question but she cuts him off. “I can teleport. It’s range is limited, but I possess the ability to move entire armies. Geer wants to kill me and take this power. Always has.”\n\n“So that dragon—”\n\nRosalind turns around and walks off. “Come on, that’s enough for now.”\n\n“Where are we going?”\n\n“Anywhere but here.”\n\nIn the background, the red dragon falls, and so does the shield protecting them.\n\nThey’re officially on their own.\n",
"Darlington walked beside the tiny stream and in the shade of the small trees that hung above his head. He had heard tales from the local village that a great beast, a wyvern or dragon, lay in the ancient stone keep on the hill. Darlington was on a journey to bring himself great honor and what better way then to slay the dragon and rescue the princess that it held captive. The treasure that all dragons kept would be a bonus. That was if the rumors were even true.\n\nThe ancient stone keep loomed above Darlington. He felt odd. He had imagined a great black fortress decorated by innumerable wicked spikes surrounded by scorched black earth and sulfur smelling miasma. Instead he walked through a field of flowers, bumble bees buzzed around him peacefully in the morning sun, towards a very normal looking patrol outpost. The loudest noise was not the screams of tortured souls but the clanks of his rusted sabatons and the occasional melody of song birds.\n\nDarlington approached the large oak door. He caught his fist midair before it hit the door. He muttered a curse under his breath for almost being naive enough to knock before entering. With his hand now firmly on his sword's hilt, he kicked the door open.\n\nWhat he beheld was a large lizard like face, smoke billowing out from its orifices. The beast opened its mouth and Darlington braced his body to dodge. What came from the beasts mouth was not the wall of magically flames he had expected but simply a fit of coughing and more smoke.\n\n“Sorry about that. We don't get many visitors.” The great serpent mumbled. “I thought I heard something coming so I went to...to check the door.”\n\n“I-I-I have come to slay you foul beast.” Darlington barked before looking down at his fingers and scrunching his brow, as he tried to remember what he had wrote for this speech.\n\n“Wait, let's talk about this.” The dragon interjected.\n\n“No! For too long you have terrorized this area and brought suffering to its people.” Darlington said as he pointed his free hand at the maw of the monster.\n\n“But we've only been here for 4 days and I haven't down anything other than sit here and smoke.” The dragon said with a glass pipe in his now raised hand.\n\n“Your rein of terror ends tonight. I will free the princess and claim the glory that is mine.” Darlington continued.\n\n“Wait, is that what this is about? Just stay there and let me get her and we'll have this whole mess sorted out.” The dragon responded as it turned towards the doors to the main tower of the keep.\n\nDarlington saw his chance. His sword drawn, he lunged towards the dragon. Blood coated the ground as the sword slashed through the dragon's leg. The dragon howled in pain and turned to face Darlington with a shocked look on its face. Darlington dug in with his front foot and pushed off with his back, sending the sword through the dragon's neck. The beast fell to the ground. Its pipe fell with it, shattering as it escaped from the dragon's now limp claw. Darlington's chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. He stared down at the body of the beast. A smile crept up the side of his lips.\n\nThe tower door swung open. A beautiful maiden stepped through. Her golden locks flowed freely behind her as she ran. Her brown dress hugged the supple curves and was held above her ankles. Darglington's smile widened and he dropped his sword as he saw her running this way. Their flesh met, his face and her fist. Darlington's head snapped back and pulled the rest of him off his foot and to the ground. Darlington's eyes could no longer around on just how they function but his ears continued to worked. He heard the princess stomping towards the exit of the fort, ranting to herself.\n\n“Why am I always attracting idiots. Now what excuse do I have to not marry that count.”\n\nThen Darlington passed out.",
"He did it. He, the great knight known as Richard the Slayer, defeated the terrifying monstrosity known as Ignis. The fight between the knight and the dragon was long and fiery, but in the end, the knight put his sword right into Ignis' throat. This meant that he saved the 3rd princess of the royal house, Elizabeth.\n\nHe was sure that the moment he walked up the stairs, she would jump right into his arms, so happy that she would declare her love for her saviour. A little smile surrounded Richard's mouth. He was wounded, but the thought of the princess falling in love with him was greater than any pain.\n\nFull of excitement Richard entered the tower holding the princess captive. The only thing in the hall before him was a great, spiralling stairway, leading to the only room of the tower. The one where the princess was waiting.\n\nWhile halfway up the stairs, he stopped and looked out of the small window to see his triumph. In the distance, dark clouds started to gather. Rain, he thought to himself. He then continued his climb.\n\nAt the top of the stairs was a wooden door, decorated with iron ornaments. Full of confidence he opened the door and stepped into the room. \"Fear no more, my princess, because I, the great knight Richard, have...\" Before he could finish, a vase shattered on the wall beside him. \"You fool! How can you be such an idiot!\" Confused Richard looked in the direction the shouting was coming from. There he saw Elizabeth, a beautiful woman, furious.\n\n\"I came to save you, my princess,\" he said. “from the claws of this terrible beast.\"\n\"Terrible beast!? That \"beast\" was the only thing that could protect me!\" The princess walked towards the window looking out over the field where the corpse of the Dragon lay. \"I have to get out of here. But where do I go?\"\n\n\"Worry not, my lady. I, the great knight Richard, will protect you.\"\n\nPrincess Elizabeth turned away from the window and looked at Richard. Her eyes showed both anger and despair. \"How exactly will you protect me? Do you even realise what you have done?\" Her voice started to become less angry, and more desperate. She turned back to the window and looked out of the window when her body froze.\n\n\"Oh no... it's already too late...\"\n\nThe dark clouds that were forming in the far distance had become bigger, even darker and, most of all, closer. Rain started to pour down. Great bolts of lightning were ravaging through the sky, setting the trees on the hills beneath on fire and lighting up the darkening room.\n\n\"It is already here.\" The princess dropped down to the ground, staring at the cold stones with eyes full of fear. Shivers could be seen shivering through her spine.\nRichard looked at her, barely able to see her in the darkening room. The only things that provided some light were the faint glow of the candle on the table and the flashes of the storm outside. After a cold breeze of wind the candle went out and the only thing left was the storm.\n\nRichard looked outside, to see what was going on in the sudden storm. He could not see much since the clouds blocked all sunlight. But with the next flash, he saw it. A shadow. The flashes continued, lighting up the world for just seconds. But it was enough to see the shadow come closer. When the shadow came closer, Richard was able to see what it belonged to. No words exist to describe this creature, as it looked as if it came from hell itself.\n\nFrozen in fear, Richard was unable to do anything. He just started at the coming doom while the princess sat shivering on the cold floor. Just moments later, the creature had reached the tower. It looked at the corpse of the dragon lying at the base of the tower, and laughed. A terrifying sound that made the stones shake.\n\nRichard realised what kind of mistake he had made. The dragon didn't kidnap the princess, he was protecting her. But it was too late. The creature turned towards the tower, raised his arm and destroyed everything with one attack.\n\nThe tower shattered under the force of the creature's arm. The stones fell down, covering the dragon and the grass around it. The tower with its dragon was gone.\n\nAnd so were the knight and the princess.\n",
"She was practically hysterical when the great beast fell to the final blow from his greatsword. He'd put it down to general fear for her life - after all, being held captive in castle would do that to anyone. He wiped the blood-stained weapon on a spare rag and sheathed it, before standing up and saluting. *Well,* he thought to himself, *they're always princesses, and that means royalty, doesn't it.* He inhaled, puffing up his chest, just in case. He wasn't as much of a veteran at this sort than he made out to be.\n\n\"My name,\" he caught himself just in time, \"uh, ma'am, is Sir Arlen of Aradale, and I have defeated the great wyrm that has held you captive here. If you so wish, I will escort you back to Erith.\"\n\nShe stood up, shaking a little, and walked over to him, looking as if she were about to fall into his arms. He raised his arms slightly to accept the embrace if such a thing were forthcoming. It wasn't - she slapped him with a ferocity that, combined with how unexpected it all was, sent him reeling. \"You fool!\" she shouted, \"not only have you killed me, you've killed yourself as well!\"\n\n\"I...\" he staggered to his feet. \"I don't understand. I've done nothing but *save* you from the... the...\"\n\n\"It wasn't you doing the saving,\" she whispered. \"Congratulations. You've destroyed the one thing standing between us, and certain...\" she tapered off to nothing as a shadow descended over the keep.",
"\"In the deepest chambers of Wyrn'ld, the Wizard-king's daughter--a princess--is held.\" Said a prophetic old crone. I had no reason to question the crone. Many of my quests have begun by prophecy. If only I had chanced to question this one...\n\n\nThe Monsteromnicon refers to dragons as a the highest level of threat. Wyrn'ld, the grand castle was a postulate claim of a Wizard-King's power, built overnight by his immense power. It was a grand construction and the reason that I assumed drew the dragon. I have dealt with Dragon's before. Smaller ones, ones of less aged history. In my research I had discovered her name--Nomora. She was reportedly a friendly wyrm. She was as old as they come, and the basis for many arcane colleges. A benevolent being who had gifted knowledge and aid... But it was not beyond any dragon to delve into insanity as their long lives progressed through aeons. It was with a saddened heart I promised myself I would give this ancient figure a merciful death. \n\nIn my preparations, I had cast aside my armor. With the help of an Alchemist, a linen and cotton gambeson drenched in foul smelling liquids provided better protection against Nomora's flames. She smelled me coming long before she could see me.\n\n\nThrough the archeways, and winding halls I crept. Till I had gotten to the deepest parts of the castle, then I knew I had to begin to move quickly. An unfathomably large ante-chamber lit with an uncountable number of glowing runes was where I had found Nomora. Upon the bones of lesser men I crunched--I engaged the beast. Numerous stone pillars, and piles of charred remains gave me cover. Where numerous men have failed, I would not. Years of the hunt have taught me things that can only be learned through growing old in a life where I should have died young. \n\n\nArcane lights lit around me, and bolts of energy sent me running. Narrowly had my dodges failed, where they would have spelled my death had I been wearing anything more cumbersome. Behind a pillar I pressed myself. I could sense the frustration--in the way only warriors could understand. Where her spells were failing she resorted to the most natural of the dragon's attacks. The flames engulfed the areas around me. She drew in a long breath, and expelled.The alchemist's liquids did enough to keep me from being set aflame, but I could feel the intensity of the flames. At the end of her breath, I lifted my shield. Through the fire, ash, and smoke I charged her. She couldn't see me coming. I climbed a hill of bones, and lunged at her. A thrust to her chest--pushed between her scales into her heart. Her wale filled the chamber, and with a ground shaking thud she had been slain. The lit runes had begun to fade. Guided by the fires of my battle, I found the door Nomora had guarded.\n\n\nI heaved the heavy stone doors apart into the tower. A foul scent filled the air around me--but I delved on. The steps that were once stone had become soft and fleshy. What horror had I come upon. Not-corpses of beings that were man-like in shape lined the walls that were still lit by the fading light of the runes. I could hear them moving, as if they were awakening. I ran. Not away like I should have--my honor got the best of me. To the final chamber I had entered. There she was, the princess. Affixed upon a doorway of dark material and scripture. Her body held against the obsidian portal by the same flesh that covered the stairs. It was struggling. As if it was trying to pull her through the portal. \n\n\nThe light of her eyes was the same of the runes. It too was fading, and the battle between her and the substance around her was ending. She looked on at me with sadness... \n\n\n\"You should not hath come, Foolish Knight. Nomora... Poor, blessed Nomora... Even she could not hath kept my father's will for power satiate. To sacrifice his own daughter to things that are beyond the dark... Rest now Nomora you have done well to have protected my meager life from sacrifice as long as you could.\" \n\n\nAll remaining light of the room extinguished. The princess' screams echoed over the grinding sound of the portal opening. In the dark. I swear--I heard the old crone's laughter.\n\n\n*Edit spelling and detail changes.\n"
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I'm not sure if this is quite or not but I heard it at work and thought it'd be a fun write.
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[WP] "Eat, Drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die!"
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"My stomach gurgled as I sunked my sword through the wench's eye. The female of the species were 5 times as large as the males, so it's fitting that they would be the main warriors of the species. \n\nWhat were known as the Kro'naa came to our land 4 suns ago on flying huts made from the same metal as our blades and shields. Their man-sized missionaries spoke to our leader, Håkon, of submission and subjugation to their laws and rules. \n\nTo show our gratitude, we had slain all their men.\n\nUnfortunately their flying huts were far too difficult to break into, so we tried painting their doors with their silver blood. Their ships too were silver so we drank mead until our spew was red and slathered everything in sight!\n\nTheir 'president' (as they called her), Mekroh, was apparently unhappy with this and soon sent a 'broadcast' (whatever that is) waging war. The joke was on them however because we had a hankering for battle; our last war against another tribe ended with 17 pregnancies. \n\nThus the day before today we ate and drank and had a merry time. The chance of death was nearly certain with the woman Kro'naa being as tall as ash trees :) My time with the gods was soon to come!\n\nI had five servings of skause and treated myself to some horse. The old fool was on his last legs and stopped trotting before the big day. In hindsight the meat was a tad too soft, and while very well seasoned, its bqllr (my favourite parts) had a few too many bumps. \n\nAfter sinking the blade into the Kro'naa eyehole, it dropped to the ground, flinging me quite a distance away. As I flew I felt my bacraut loosen and the eyes of both men and Kro'naa follow my trajectory. \n\nAs I hit the ground I let out yet another meinfretr and the shit just kept coming out and coming out. Alas I was felled by poison instead of tasting the glory of my own bloodshed, but blood did come out the other end so really, that is why I deserve to be in Valhalla. "
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[WP] You are an Elder God that has risen from the Oceans depths. The only problem is humanity doesn't really care...
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"I awaken naked and cold as my face crashes against the freezing oceans Atlantic shore. My lips are cracked from the constant moisture of the sea and the smell of that day reminded me of my first day on earth. Memories begin to flood my head and suddenly I remember I'm on a mission to save us from ourselves... Days pass and I'm not so sure anyone believes or understands the horror that is about to happen. Woman, children, and men of all ages and race will be wiped free from from planet earth. The floor below you will fall and the sky from above will begin to stretch into infinite space. The world as you know it will be nothing but pure emptiness. Memories won't even be a thought and hunger won't ever be an issue. Your species existence has become nothing but a joke and an embarrassment. My people believe we can grow stronger without your past and there will be no history of your failures as a race. I tried to warn you but maybe the human conciseness no longer lives but technology has risen past flesh. ",
"Aaand it's 10 minutes past the hour here on *City FM* and we're ready for our first caller! Hello caller, this is Eddie Blake on *City FM.* What was your call about today?\n\n…\n\nHello? Well, it looks like we're having some technical troubles here. Nevermind, let's go onto our sec...\n\n**GREETINGS MORTAL.**\n\nOh. Oh...Hey! May I ask your name?\n\n**I AM BLYTHT.**\n\nBly-tht? Well we don't hear that name on *City FM* often, ha ha! The line is quite rough, I'm struggling to hear you at the moment but I'm sure we can carry on through it. So why have you called us today Blyth...t?\n\n**DO...DO YOU NOT KNOW MY NAME? WHAT HAS HAPPENED HERE? MY NAME SHOULD STRIKE FEAR INTO ALL WHO HEAR IT!**\n\nUm...no? I'm afraid no-one here at *City FM* knows the name.\n\n**CURSES! IT'S HIM ISN'T IT? AGAIN!?**\n\nSorry Blyth, you've lost me.\n\n**IT'S BLYTHT! TEE...IT ISN'T DIFFICULT INSECT. HE USED TO TEASE ME TOO!**\n\nO...K I think we've gone off on the wrong foot here. Me and everyone at *City FM* appreciates all of our callers, and we would never knowingly degrade or insult our loyal audience.\n\nSo...apologies. Now, who is this 'he' you refer to Blyth...T?\n\n**CTHULU. BLOODY CTHULU!**\n\nOh! Now that name is familiar to me! But...isn't he just a...\n\n**HE'S A FRAUD, THAT'S ALL HE IS! DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY AEONS I HAVE SPENT TRYING TO MAKE MY RETURN FROM THE COLD DEPTHS OF THIS DIMENSION!? YOU TRY IT SOMETIME MORTAL, THE PRESSURE ALONE WILL CRUSH YOUR PUNY SKULL LIKE A GRAPE!**\n\n**I GO THROUGH ALL THAT EFFORT AND WHAT DO I FIND. NO-ONE HERE KNOWS ME! NO-ONE IS TAKING ME SERIOUSLY!**\n\n**MEANWHILE THAT SELLOUT CTHULU IS EVERYWHERE! TV SHOWS, BOOKS, MOVIES...HE'S EVEN WORSE THAN THAT ATTENTION WHORE KARAKAL!**\n\nHa ha! OK friend, you need to calm down a little. I'm sure ah...Cthulu didn't do all this to spite you?\n\n**YOU DON'T KNOW HIM LIKE I DO. HE'D SELL EVERY SINGLE ONE OF HIS CHIN TENTACLES IF THE PRICE WAS RIGHT! AND HE CALLS HIMSELF A GOD, HE HAS NO SELF RESPECT!**\n\nI see. Well I'm afraid our time is nearly up, and to be honest this sort of situation is new to me and I don't have any real advice to give.\n\n**WAIT, WHAT? BUT I'VE ONLY JUST CALLED! I HAVE YET TO INFORM YOUR LISTENERS THE UTTER DOO-**\n\nAnd that was Blytht, certainly one of the more interesting callers we've had here on *City FM*! If you're story is even crazier than that call now on 0800 276 8900 and we'll talk! The time is now 12:35 and seeing as we're in “the depths” let's have a listen to a classic, Yellow Submarine by The Beatles!",
"My cosmic mind wakes from eons of slumber,\n\nSending out thoughts far and wide through this plane.\n\nPitiful masses of souls teem around me,\n\nI revel in thoughts of their struggle so vain.\n\n...\n\nThe earth itself trembles in fear of my might,\n\nTerror and fright that can never be stopped.\n\nHumanity looks to their *Doom* and they shrug,\n\n\"Eh, I've seen better. I'd guess *Photoshopped*.\""
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[WP] You live in a apolcaplyptic wasteland. One day, while scavenging in a building, you discover a computer. It's powered on and you find that it's somehow connected to the internet. You go to Reddit to discover that it's still very active...
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"\"By the gods, how the hell is this even possible?!\" I whisper, trying to avoid catching the attention of unwanted guests. \nI scroll through the new posts and discover r/apocolypse is trending lately. I click to see that the newest post was actually a few minutes ago and how a guy name TheKewlMiester would like to trade some instant noodle soup for a flashlight and batteries. I replied asking how this is even working right now. After waiting a bit, he replied with this.\n\n\"Well, some people are so dedicated that they have a generator up and running to power up a server and hosting it onto there. Guess it's pretty easy considering that most of the world is not online anymore. So you want some noodles?\"\n\nI scratch my head as I lean back on the chair. Of all the things they could be doing right now, they are using their little resources to run Reddit? I guess they can't live without it. I then scroll down to see someone made a meme with a guy that has a beard and smiling with the caption \n\n\"That moment when you find a convience store and they only have diet coke.\" \n\nI chuckled as I explored this new version of Reddit. From what I could tell, some groups got together to be able to make a working Internet and computers to make this whole thing work. After a while I heard something shuffle as I turned around with my crowbar ready to swing. The shuffle happened again and I drew closer to it, ever so slightly creeping towards it. It lead me to a pile and right as I got in front of it. A guy popped out and said, \n\n\"Don't hurt me, I will give you a rare Pepe if you leave me be!\" \n\nI lowered my guard, knowing that this guy had many chances of killing me anyways. I looked at his body noticing he was growing a full bear some scratches here and there and a bandage across his ear as well as a part of his hand was blue for some reason. He explained that he hooked his pc to a power grid and found a WiFi hotspot just so he could get on Reddit. \n\n\"I'm grant by the way, but most know me by the name of R. What bring you here traveler?\"\n\nAfter telling him about my scavenge for some supplies he lead me down to a bunker where he had food and other important items. Turns out he was a bit of a hoarder before and was able to live for quite a while. I grinned as I got some well needed water. I guess this living hell wasn't all that bad after all."
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Don't take it the easy way out by having the character have multiple personalities or something along those lines.
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[WP] Write a story where the same person is both the antagonist & protagonist. Bonus points if they don't have a mental disorder that causes it.
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"World is recovering from that catastrophic events. It almost eradicating all the humanity, bring almost 5 billion of lives with it. World leaders, well, the remaining of them, referring it as \"The Event\".\n\nThe Event, being airborne, is one of the fastest \"desease\", more than influenza. It's more lethal, so i didn't think influenza can make it faster than The Event.\n\nAs the known researcher of human disease, i am called by U.N. to lead a research to make a medicine to treat this. As The Event become more public, of course i can't turn them down.\n\nAfter three months of research, and trillions of dollars, we finally created the medicine and treat almost 700 million sick people in quarantine. As the lead researcher, I get a Nobel Prize and being one of the named scientists in history.\n\nWell, of course it did not happen if i didn't careless when researching that new strain of influenza. I really think that it's just another \"easy influenza\". I did not know that influenza is attacking almost all the vital organs at the same time. So as the world recovering, i am burning the evidence.",
"Katie Winston is your normal run of the mill college student. Well, almost run of the mill. Katie has always been into science fiction. When she started college, Katie found a love for engineering. She had always been a bit of a tickerer. If a household appliance would quit working, Katie would disassemble it. She revelled in understanding how things work. She could almost always fix things. Many times making things even better than the original item was. For her first year of college, Katie made the first self usable time travelling device. It was not very ornate or well designed, but it worked. \n\nPeople came from all around the globe to see how it worked. Her invention earned her much esteem amongst the engineering community, science fiction writers and their readers as well as people who simply wanted to go back in time to change their lives.\n\nOne day, Katie was sitting in a lecture when a fellow by the name of H.L. Collens approached her to sell her time travelling device. Katie refused stating that it was not for sale. She understood that in the wrong hands it could be used for evil purposes. \n\n\"Sometimes the evil does not come from the outside world,\" Mr. Collins replied before he left the lecture hall.\n\nIn order to keep the machine safe from others, Katie took the time travelling machine to the last place anyone would look for it. She burried it next to her childhood time capsule, which was still ninety years from being opened. Katie left her childhood home and returned to the university.\n\nTwo years passed by before Katie finished her schooling. She had not given much thought to the time machine since she had buried it until one night, she was out celebrating her graduation. A woman who looked identical to her approached her. This gave Katie and her friends a fright. She introduced herself as Kathrine Winston-Bowman, from the year 2106. Katie could not believe what she was hearing. This woman, was her, but from the future. When Katie asked why the woman was here, the future version wove a tail of what was yet to come.\n\nKathrine explained that on this night, Katie would be too drunk to drive. That even though others would offer to drive her home, Katie would opt for driving herself. \n\nKatie looked to the table and counted only two empty champagne glasses. Katie would laugh and tell Kathrine, that she was not at all drunk. Kathrine continued, telling her that she would kill a man on her drive home. Katie, grimaced at the thought that should could do such a thing. \n\n\"That man, is Nicholas Bowman. His son and you will marry in five years time, but it will be an unhappy marriage when he learns that you were the one who killed his father,\" Kathrine warned.\n\nKatie, looked back to her friends for a moment. Was she going crazy? When she looked back to the woman claiming to be the future her, Kathrine was suddenly 100 years old, frail and sad. Katie took Kathrine to the childhood home. As she unearthed the time capsule, she found, a man's wedding ring and on the inside was inscribed, Until we meet again 2023. When Katie stopped crying, she knew what she had to do.\n\nThe next day, with the time machine unearthed, Katie called H.L. Collins, ready to sell the time machine. She didn't want to know her own future and most certainly did not want to impact the choices she would make in the future.",
"“Help! Dragon!”\n\n“It’s the dragon!”\n\n“It’s coming! The dragon is coming!”\n\nThe screams echoed throughout the blazing town, as people ran away from the flames that licked at the ground and buildings. The few citizens who had tried to smother the flames now gave up, as the roars of the beast grew louder and nearer, and they retreated from the hulking form of the dragon.\n\nOnly one person did not flee, standing her ground at the centre of town, as she ignored the people who rushed past her. A young woman with shimmering hazel hair worn in a ponytail, and icy blue eyes, she was decked in silver armour, embroidered with gold highlights along the edges of her gear. A silk blue cape flapped in the wind behind her, as she took a step forward in her light grey leather boots, also moving an equally pale glove to a silver and blue sheath at her waist.\n\nA few of the townsfolk turned their gaze toward her as they ran, and a small glimmer of hope appeared in their eyes. When the town had first heard of how a dragon was slowly approaching their direction, they had sent help for a hero to slay it. This girl in particular was well known, having many adventures and lives saved to her name. How lucky they were to manage to get ahold of her!\n\nThe hero herself was assessing the dragon, as it came closer. The monster had a rough, scaly body, as grey as stone. Disgusting formations rose out of its hide like twisted stalagmites, as its bulky feet shook the ground with each step. It turned its molten orange eyes towards the young woman, letting out a vicious roar. Its maw was a gaping inferno of orange, matching the intensity of its eyes.\n\nThe hero did not flinch, as she took hold of the her sword’s hilt, and drew it from the sheath. “My name is Alorisia Silvazor, and I’ve been tasked with the mission to slay you.”\n\nThe white blade gleamed in the light, as a glowing blue chain materialized from the weapon’s pommel, connecting to Alorisia’s right wrist.\n\n“Your rampage has come to an end. Now prepare to die!”\n\nThe dragon did not seem to register her words. But the sword was message enough. It bellowed in challenge, opening its jaws to release a stream of flames, racing straight at the girl.\n\nThe girl raised her blade high, and slashed in a diagonal arc. A blast of wind shot out from the attack, tearing through the fire and scattering it away from her. The remaining townspeople, who had hidden behind debris to watch the fight, looked in amazement at Alorisia’s power. She was a magic user!\n\nThe dragon remained unperturbed, and spewed out another breath of fire. This time it moved its head from side to side, spreading the fire all around the girl.\n\nAlorisia jumped back to avoid the initial wave of flames, only to see that the fire was extending to the houses around her, eating them up with the heat. She narrowed her eyes, raising her sword high again. The blue chain glowed immensely bright, and she waved the blade in a horizontal arc. The glow faded, and several rainclouds emerged in the air around her, sending rain down to douse the flames.\n\nThe crowd of people cheered, though a few of them buckled in pain, suddenly clutching their chests. They had felt a chill in their hearts, like a freezing icicle slowly impaling itself on their bodies. They looked around to see what had caused it, but they only saw the hero and the dragon.\n\nThe dragon was enraged at this turn of events, and charged forward at Alorisia in anger. The woman took a step back, drawing her sword up as she waited for the opportune moment to strike.\n\nThe monster drew closer and closer, breaking up the ground as it went. Finally Alorisia jumped up high, displaying a sign of strength and agility that was superhuman. Waving her sword in the air, a platform of solid energy formed just below her, and she landed on it gracefully. The dragon was only a few metres away now.\n\nJust as the dragon was about to smash into her, she jumped up again, and a stairway of platforms appeared in the sky, leading towards the monster’s back. She landed on the first platform and ran up the steps, dropping down onto the dragon’s backside as it turned and rammed its head into the platforms, shattering them.\n\nAlorisia looked around from her position, trying to find a target. Her gaze landed on the massive spikes on the dragon’s back. After a moment’s hesitation, she raised her blade, and the chain began to glow once more.\n\nDown below, more people began to fall to their knees, their faces contorted in slight pain as they placed their hands to their hearts.\n\nA large aura of blue energy encompassed Alorisia’s blade, solidifying into a solid layer as she held the sword in both hands, slashing at the closest spike.\n\nThe spike was sliced seamlessly in two, as the dragon roared in pain and moved back. Alorisia walked in the direction of the beast’s neck, slicing down the second spike in her way, then the next.\n\nThe dragon struggled with every hit, shaking violently to try and force her off its back. The girl almost fell, but quickly strengthened the aura around her blade, stabbing it down into the dragon’s hide to anchor herself. This caused the chain to glow, followed by more citizens falling, and gasps from the people who already fell, as the chill became more intense.\n\nWith a cry of pain and anger, the dragon reared back into a building, in a desperate attempt to crush her between them. Alorisia jumped up high again, forming a platform to land on before leaping again towards the dragon’s head.\n\nThe dragon saw this, and raised its head up in her direction, opening its jaws and preparing to eat her whole. Alorisia reacted quickly, her sword’s chain glowing as a sphere of energy formed around her. The dragon’s jaws caught the sphere, and it tried to bite down, in the hopes of breaking through it.\n\nAlorisia saw the fallen townspeople out of the corner of her eye, but chose to ignore the sight. Chain still glowing, she created solid daggers of magic around her, floating inside the sphere. She then jumped up, and the sphere exploded around her as she did so, the force of it opening the dragon’s maw wider than comfortably possible.\n\nShe rose into the air, and pointed her sword down at the beast’s gaping throat. The magic daggers flew into the wide open target, flying past the orange haze to impale the flesh beneath it.\n\nWith one last guttural cry, the dragon fell to the ground. It twitched a couple times, before the molten glow faded from its eyes and mouth. The beast was slain.\n\n[To Be Continued]",
"**The Adventures of the Completely Sane Awesome Man**\n\nBeing completely alone in the world has some odd benefits, but it brings some drawbacks as well. There's so much to do, but still nothing to do.\n\nFor example: Yesterday I took my first shot, my first shot with a pump-action shotgun. That melon got crushed.\n\n\"Up top!\"\n\nOh wait, I'm the only living being. Well, there's one obvious drawback: I haven't talked to a living thing for the past twenty-five years, if you don't count the voices in my head at least...\n\nNo! I know what you're thinking: this guy is nuts. I'm perfectly sane, don't worry, Daniel.\n\n\"Ah! Who's Daniel?\" You might ask, and to be completely honest, I don't know. Probably one of the voices but I'm not entirely sure.\n\n\"I'm sane!\" \n\nYes I am. Now back to the point of the story, that I didn't even try to explain before. But don't worry, as the perfectly sane being that I am, I will do so now.\n\nSo out in the wastes it gets kind of boring sometimes. Even when you fire burning arrows onto an array of dead stingrays impaled by wooden poles. Oh God, the smell of those thing-\n\n\"Back to the point you sane bastard!\"\n\nCalm down, me... Back to the point, again. So yes, I think you've figured that I've been lying a bit, and the truth is, I don't think I'm sane. But for the sake of this awesome story, let's say I am. \n\nNow, where was I? Oh right, boring, lonely, stingrays? Okay, got it.\n\nOne day when I slowly paced down main street, I saw a dude. The dude had this cool cape and a fucking ninja sword attached to his left arm. On his chest there was a writing: Ninja-arm-dude. I knew that this ominous beast had to go. His black cape flickered in the wind when he leaped towards me, but fear not! I reached for my trusty, although a bit rusty, kitchen knife from IKEA and pierced his lower abdomen.\n\n\"Cut! Mr. Melonhead, you need to step into the role of Ninja-arm-dude; he lost his parents to a clown, freed the alien slaves and won a lottery in his youth. Your portrayal of the character just don't... Fit him. Sorry, you have to go.\"\n\nIt's always though to fire actors, but when they don't take their job seriously, what are you going to do?"
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[WP] Write a story of a child getting lost in a toy store in the style of a detective film noir.
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"She came to me like all dames come to me. In tears. Her Elena of Avalon shirt covered in something like mustard, but it could’ve been something else. Something worse. \n\n“Where’s my mommy?” \n\nAlways the same questions with these little ones in tears. They never ask how I’m doing, and it’s a good thing too. I could only give them an answer that would break their little hearts. “Ain’t doin’ so well kid. The world’s all asses in the air and I’m just waiting to get spanked like everyone else.” This kid probably knew about spankings. She looked Mexican - shit, was that racist?\n\n“Let’s go find your mommy little girl?” I said with my best smile plastered across my face. “What does she look like?”\n\n“She’s tall.” The little girl managed through gasps and sobs, “and, and, she has hair.”\n\n“Tall and hair, huh, kid?” Damn that could be just about anyone. A short woman with a bald head walked by. Well, at least that’s one person it can’t be.\n\n“Alright kid follow me.” I knew she had come out of aisle seventeen. The pink aisle still designed for the gender specific society where the Barbies were meant for little girls and the G.I. Joe’s meant for boys. Strike that. I don’t think we sell G.I. Joe’s anymore. Another victim of the smart phone revolution. Toys were dumb. Mobile games were cool. Kids were stupid. \n\nI walked the little girl to seventeen and peered down the aisle. I shuttered. A slick stream of vomit now covered the shiny linoleum floors. There were bits in it too. Orange and green bits swimming in the yellow liquid. I held back my own gag reflex trying to keep down my tuna fish sandwich. I looked at the little girl, and she looked as guilty as a banker fucking a hooker in his marital bed. Damn, that was specific. I need to get some sleep.\n\nThe new guy could deal with the vomit. I radioed it in. He groaned. We all have to pay our dues new guy. He can talk to me after he staffs the twenty-four hour Christmas rush. War is hell. That’s what some old guy said in a book once. He didn’t go to Toys ‘R’ Us on Christmas Eve.\n\nWe moved past aisle seventeen. Still on the search for a tall woman with hair. One walked by us. A black lady. I decided it wasn’t her. Was that racist of me? I shouldn’t see color, right? Well I guess I do. “That wasn’t her, right?” I ask the little girl.\n\n“No,” The little girl said with a smile, “that lady was black.”\n\nI smiled to myself. The little girl saw race too. Guess I’m not so bad.\n\nAisle twenty-one: We got our first clue. The little girl bounded down the aisle and picked up a fallen jacket. It was yellow with black stripes. It looked like the carcass of a giant bumble bee. The little girl put it on. When she flipped up the hood two antennae wriggled through the air, and two large sequined eyes stared back at me from either side of her head. There’s a stinger sewn to the back. It was a dead bee carcass. Homemade. It looked like garbage. The little girl looked like a garbage dead bee. I decided to say nothing.\n\n“Mommy must’ve dropped it,” she said. “Or maybe Timmy threw it off the stroller.” She made a pouty face.\n\n“Timmy?” I asked, “You’ve never mentioned Timmy before.”\n\n“He’s my stupid baby brother. Mom loves him more. I know it.” \n\nThe pieces started falling into place. A little girl angry at the existence of her little brother. Her world shifted slightly off-center. So, what does she do? How does she get the center of attention that she craves? She gets lost. Makes a big scene. Gets some poor chump to return the lost, scared little girl to her mother. She had played me for a chump and I had fallen for her crocodile tears.\n\n“I’m done.” I said. “I bet you didn’t even need my help finding your mom. Did you?”\n\nShe looked at me, the last traces of innocent fleeing from her face like a fat kid trying to steal a video game from the electronics department. “Of course not, you idiot.” The little girl said. “I have a phone! I just thought she might feel a little worse seeing her daughter dragged around the store by some pedophile.”\n\n“Pedophile? Hey lady, I ain’t no pedo!”\n\n“Please,” she says, “You’re wearing a fedora and a trenchcoat over your company issued slacks and polo shirt. You scream pedophile.”\n\n“You’re like six how do you even know what a pedophile is anyway?”\n\n“I looked it up on the internet.” She said, “there was a picture of you.”\n\nThat was a good burn. I needed some ice for that burn.\n\n“For your information I haven’t been to the break room yet, and I thought it was going to rain. Good luck finding your precious mommy.”\n\nI turned away to walk back towards the break room. I suddenly felt too hot under my trenchcoat. Too exposed. It had been a long morning and I could use a coke. I reached my hand in my front pocket and felt around for loose change. I could only feel two quarters. I needed three. Shit, I thought to myself. I caught the eye of a man passing by. My hands were deep in my pocket groping around under my trenchcoat. I took out the two quarters and showed them to the man. He wasn’t impressed, and walked by with a look of disgust on his face. Maybe I should shave off the goatee, too.\n\n“Wait!” The little girl called from behind me. “Wait!”\n\nI turned around to see the homemade bumblebee running up behind me. “My phone’s dead!” She says. “I really do need your help.” No tears this time, not yet. Instead her face was pale white. Like she was afraid. It seemed real, but then it seemed real last time, too.\n\n“I’m an employee at Toys ‘R’ Us.” I said standing up to my full height, “I’m sworn to bring smiles to the faces of children whether that be by finding the perfect toy, or by returning a lost little girl to her mother-”\n\n“Oh,” The little girl said, “there she is. Bye Pedo!”\n\nThe little girl ran up to a woman pushing a stroller. The woman did have hair, but she wasn't very tall. Kids are stupid."
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[WP] I was falling to pieces. Literally. I had a manual on how to put me back together, though.
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"*Pieces, Part 1*\n\nThe week-long, tropical storms finally hit Shenzhen. \n\nA wall of rain turned the Deep Bay into a foggy void, smudging the ragged line of high-rises into barely discernible shapes, and as the bus ferried Asher away from the city center to Huangang Port, he watched streaks of murky water slide down the window, dripping down... just like the blood that collected at the soggy hem of his trenchcoat and leaked onto the grated dirty flooring.\n\nThe bus was packed to the brim with wasted port-workers, and no one noticed.\n\nHe had behaved foolishly in Dafen. Overconfidence always brought about downfall, and the bullet-hole in his side was a good reminder of that axiom. Despite all, Chinese were still lagging behind the finer twists and turns of the technological curve - Asher hadn't expected nonhanced security, even for a big pharma fish, to carry EMP-stickers. The thought didn't even occur to him, and now, walking... no, limping along the narrow canyons between Huanggang cargo holds, he had no-one to blame, but himself.\n\nPort markets are expected to smell of fish, oil and the sea. But the only smell Asher could identify for the last day or so, was the revolting, nauseating thin stench of burnt hair and dielectrics. \n\nIt followed after him everywhere. Asher cut the commercial part of the Huanggang PA to the seedier, shadier parts of the sprawling port and kept his shaking hands close to himself, concealing the angular panes of his gaunt body under the wet splotch of the coat. Time was running out, right into the drainpipe, becoming sewage just like his blood. Somewhere, amidst the cold morgue light of steaming midnight diners and indifferent faces, was a hidden world.\n\nA world that offered exotic services and played by different rules. Asher clenched his teeth, breathing heavily and pressed onto a wall, almost sliding down the shuffling layer of posters. \nRhythmic inhalation and exhalation didn't help, and seconds later he vomited noisily, adding his contribution to the surrounding grime. Pain was the least of his problems now. The whole system went haywire.\n\nThe *Fa Chou Rou* market was stowed away at the port's outskirts, hidden from prying eyes. Asher was certain that the Huanggang authorities were fully aware of its existence, but by its nature, Fa Chou Rou had to generate enough grease to oil even the crankiest bureaucratic gears. Wind and rain rocked the plastic tents, threatening to rip them off. The sellers sat immobile though, wrapped into the bright neon sheen of cheap raincoats, little plastic Buddhas glowing under the floodlights.\n\nAsher's shaky walk through the first few rows yielded little results. Fa Chou Rou dealt with grey tech. Tons of noname wristpads, smartphones, VR *systems*, colorful assortments of UZ-stimplants from Nintendo and Sony. Scramblers and DarkNet blade configs, you name it.\nWith twitching, unresponsive hands feeling for the merch, Asher moved from table to table, his only catch being the curious glances from the sellers. Rain drummed an increasingly ominous message onto his shoulders - *you're going to die*. Another spasm coursed through his body, and he veered away, hugging a lamppost.\n\nHe couldn't believe it. Since when did black markets become so predictable and tame?\n\nNo. No. He knew Shenzhen, this couldn't be it, not like this... This was just half of the Fa Chou Rou, and he still had some strength - some degree of control - to comb through the other one. Cursing under his breath, Asher pulled up despite the coiling touch of agony blooming like a lightning bolt along his spine.\n\n***\n\n\"Ah...\", he exhaled, picking up a small package. The grey bubblewrap crinkled and popped under his touch while he shook it before the shriveled ratty face of the seller. \"You sell more?\"\n\nBeneath the thin plastic, an artigan glistened, all alloy allure and delicate shutters. Leica Eye-ssence, the latest summer '29 model, gold-plated nerve silica-fibers trailing out of the spherical silver shell. Asher had no use for it, but it was the first artigan he found at the black market, so there should've been more from where it came from.\n\nThe seller nodded vigorously, and wiped the damp mop of greying hair out of his face, suddenly alert.\n\n\"Yes, yes!\".\n\nAsher's Chinese was better than his Japanese, a weird fact all things considered, but he still found it hard to articulate his rather specific needs.\n\n\"What about... cortical controllers? No... Not that\", he bit his lip in frustration, trying to recall the slang denominator for rare biotechs. The seller followed his dashing gaze eagerly, thin neck stretched out in a bodily effort to help his potential customer. \"Cortex bus? Damn. How is it in Mandarin? Uh... oh, right! Wetstone! You have wetstones? Garachi, Toshiba-Frauke - Matsuda?\"\n\n\"Wazone?\" The seller frowned.\n\n\"No, *wetstone*. Wait a sec\", Asher made passes behind his neck, and then, realizing the seller still had little idea what he was talking about, leaned forward, twisting his neck almost like an owl and brushing up his short blond hair, so that the other man could see the burned-out socket. He hovered his fingers above. \"Wetstone\".\n\nIt wasn't the best idea to show a Chinese port seller his hances, but there was little choice. If the man understood, it was all that mattered, and when Asher straightened out, the man beamed at him brightly.\n\n\"Yes! Come, come?\" The last words of the older man held a whiff of uncertainty, and the look he cast at Asher was questioning - and at the same time, oddly fearful. The bust of enthusiasm was shadowed by worry, as if the seller double-guessed himself right as he talked.\n\nAsher looked around, rain still pouring down like a funeral shroud, dark and deafening. He grit his teeth, and followed the frail seller deeper into Huanggang.",
"Inside the room of a normal teenage girl exists a talking head of a teenage girl. She's Leah, and right now, she's only a head. She's on her bed, and opposite to her is her best friend, Jennifer.\n\n\"This seems unfortunate,\" Leah said, closing her eyes.\n\n\"You think?\" Jennifer said, visibly perplexed by the situation. \"Where's the rest... of you?\" she gulped.\n\n\"Don't know, I woke up like this.\"\n\n\"How exactly do you just wake up as a head?\"\n\n\"I told you, I don't know,\" she wants to shake her head, but the lack of a torso prohibits her so. \"Ah wait, there's a suitcase below my bed, that might provide some clues.\"\n\nJenny took the surprisingly heavy suitcase and opened it, with much difficulty. She screamed after seeing its contents.\n\n\"Oh, so that's where they are,\" inside the suitcase is Leah's body parts, fitted and arranged neatly. \"There's a paper, can you hold it for me?\"\n\nDespite feeling nauseated, Jennifer did as she's told and let Leah read the paper.\n\n\"It's a manual on how to put me back.\"\n\nJennifer then looks at the paper and saw the procedure as follows.\n\n\"Step one: Stick them together to where they belong.\"\n\nSo far so good, Jenny thought.\n\n\"Step two: There's no step two.\"\n\nStressed by the situation, Jennifer didn't take the paper's humor kindly. She rips it to shreds and throws it at the window.\n\n\"Jenny, calm down,\" Leah said. \"Just stick me back, okay,\" she winked.\n\nSo Jenny sticks her friend back to normal, one body part after another. Magically, her body part stuck naturally once placed correctly.\n\n\"Finally, I thought I would live out the rest of my life like that,\" Leah stretched her arms and legs, clearly liking the sensation. \"Good thing you came today, I'll probably be dead by the weekend if it weren't for you,\" she hugged Jennifer and kisses her in her cheeks a lot of times\n\n\"It's no big deal,\" Jennifer blushed at her friend's display of gratitude. \"But are you sure you're okay? You're missing a belly button.\"\n\n\"That's alright, I don't think that's important.\"\n\n\"How careless...\"\n\n...\n\nLater that day, when Jennifer is back to her room, she brought something out of her pocket. It was a belly button. With heavy breaths, she stuck out her tongue and licks it.\n\n\"What the hell am I doing?\" she said, immediately putting the belly button in a safe place, and deciding to go to sleep.\n\n...\n\nLeah felt a wave of gentle tickles in her abdomen for about an hour, failing to sleep miserably."
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[WP] You are tasked with creating the greatest mystery ever in 744 hours, which anyone can participate in.
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"*A man has been marked for death. First person to identify him wins. You have 744 hours, now go.*\n\nThe amateurs searched through official records for persons on death row. They submitted two hundred entries at once thinking it's a lottery. \n\n\"But it's an unreasonable challenge,\" the bystanders said. \"It doesn't even say anything.\"\n\nBystanders didn't matter. The mystery is for unadulterated adventurers, who were to busy in their search to indulge in complaints. \n\nPublic medical records were hacked. The terminally ill had been given \"expiry dates\". When this was leaked, the public was outraged. But to the hospitals this was a matter of logistics. \n\nThe savvy ones persisted in their excavation of Blink, the shadow organisation behind the announcement. The charismatic face of the Blink was a man named Kni (pronounced *Nai*) has been locked away in an institution and certified insane.\n\nBlink possessed obscene riches from unidentified means. And like every great mystery, those riches were up for grabs.\n\n734 hours into the opening of the challenge, a winner was announced. Kni disappeared from the maximum security institution without a single alarm being sounded. \n\nKni hijacked a national security frequency to make the announcement: \"The mystery has been solved. Now, a woman has marked for the prize. First person to kill her wins. You have 744 hours, now go.\"\n\nThat was how the greatest, bloodiest mystery began. \n\n---\n\nCheck out more short stories by me on [Fivens](https://fivenswrite.wordpress.com/2016/12/29/march/)."
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[WP] Two people talk in a room.
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"Of course I wish that you'd left her, she said.\nBut that she could never regret it, or get it out of her head. \nBut if I had never have met you, she went on.\nThen surely I would never have got to enjoy you, as I have, and I never would have written this song. And then a sad laugh more like a mutter, like Autumn is to Summer.\n And as Winter is want to play along.\n\nThe season has changed in this bedroom, it's strange and I'm bitter with the shame of it all. But better to leave when the leaves start to blow to the drain than to go on with hurting as fools.\n\nIn summer we swam, but felt as swans to lambs and you continued: If I'd have met you in another life, when we were both cats. We could have had it all, of that I am sure. You Spring at me with that new motion. Remind me now how we couldn't have all of course, for cats hate the ocean.\n\nSitting on the window ledge. In a room that we dragged down. As the leaves turn to brown. Summer thing, I don't regret it either. Two years over and still remember the ether. But another flame took over and we stalled.\nWe couldn't be cold together, so why be cold at all.\n\n\n",
"Two people talk in a room. \n\n\"Did you bring me here?\" \n\n*\"I didn't...I don't know, did I?\"* \n\n\"I'm pretty sure it wasn't me.\" \n\n*\"How can you be sure, I am equally sure it is not me?\"* \n\n\"What's the last thing you remember doing?\" \n\n*\"I...remember looking up. I remember white mouths...without mouths. I remember you!\"* \n\n\"I don't know you! You did do this, take me back!\" \n\n*\"No, I...love you. You care about me. I don't remember much of anything.\"* \n \n\"You freak! You have no idea who I am. I don't know anything about you.\" \n\n*\"You could've known me. I'm sorry. I remember everyone was so scared. I remember a cold and sharp knife, it was so big. I was crying so much. You tried to touch my face, but they wouldn't let you. They said they needed to do...something.\"* \n\n\"You...don't make any sense. You're making me so sad. This doesn't make any sense. What are you talking about?\" \n\n*\"I remember you kept saying you loved me. That's how I know. You kept saying it. You wanted to finally meet me and you did. You kept saying that you loved me.\"* \n\n\"I...don't want to do this anymore. I want to go home. I want to stop. Don't keep saying these things to me.\" \n\n*\"You didn't care what those people kept telling you. You just wanted to hold me. You got so mad, and so much love. You were so warm to me. I'm sorry we didn't have more time.\"* \n\n\"No. Why did it have to be us? You are so precious. I loved you so much. I cared for you so much. Why did it have to be you? I'm so sorry.\" \n\n*\"It's not your fault. I know it's not your fault. You loved me for all the time we had. I was scared. I was in paint. Though you loved me for all the time we had. Thank you. I love you too\"* \n",
"\"I've been waiting a long time to see you,\" he said, shifting in his chair.\n\n\"Have you?\" she remarked absently, gazing out the window.\n\n\"I mean, how long has it been? A week? Two weeks?\"\n\n\"I'm really not sure,\" she murmured, playing with the cuff of her sleeve.\n\n\"I think about you all the time. I worry about you. Are you doing alright? Is there anything I can -\" He broke off.\n\n\"I don't think so,\" she said softly. \n\nFor the first time she met his gaze. Her eyes were glazed and devoid of emotion. He realized in shock that she was now a mere shell of her former self. He felt powerless to reach her. But she was at least looking at him now, so he felt like he needed to push on. \n\n\"Anyway, the family's been doing great. Jack went on that camping trip with his class last week, and he caught more fish than anyone else. Now he's pestering me to get him a new rod, tackle box, hip waders, the whole deal. Do you have any idea how much that stuff costs?\" He noticed his voice getting louder with false bravado. \n\n\"And Shannon's volleyball team has been doing fantastic! They're going to regionals next week. And Holly's cough is better now and she got an A on her last spelling quiz. She was so proud. You know, the other night she said the funniest thing-\"\n\n\"Stop.\" The word was quiet, yet to him it seemed deafening. She stared at him, jaw clenched, fists balled. \n\n\"I don't want to hear about them. I *can't* hear about them.Do you understand that? Do you understand that I can't bear it?\" Her voice was rising, she was becoming hysterical.\n\n\"Sweetheart, I know it's hard on you. But this won't last forever. I promise, we will get you out of here, we-\"\n\n\"My lawyer was here this morning,\" she said, her voice once again cold and impassive. \"They finally set a date. I'm to be executed by lethal injection in 30 days.\"\n\nHe jumped to his feet, feeling like the world had dropped out from under him, leaving him clinging to the smallest shred of reason.\n\n\"It's not possible! They can't do this! What about the appeal?\"\n\n\"It failed. We've failed.\" She got to her feet. \"You tried your best, but it's time to forget about me. The children too. Tell them I love them. I know they hate me now, but I hope that one day they'll know the truth.\"\n\n\"Wait! You can't just walk out like this! We need to talk! Please!\"\n\nHe pounded the glass as she signaled the guards to lead her away.\n\n\"MY WIFE IS INNOCENT!!!\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n",
"\"Nice weather, ain't it?\" \n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"The weather outside. Aye?\"\n\n\"Uh, yeah. I don't know. There aren't any windows. Where are we?\"\n\n\"A room.\"\n\n\"I can't.. I can't move.\"\n\n\"You don't have to.\"\n\n\"What is this? Who are you?\"\n\n\"What do you remember? Do you remember anything?\"\n\n\"What?\" \n\n\"What's my name?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\"You don't know, eh?\"\n\n\"Please, I need to know where I am.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Who the fuck are you?\"\n\n\"Look, I'll ask the questions here. What do you remember?\"\n\n\"I can't. I don't know. It's just.. blank.\"\n\n\"You haven't met anyone else? In this room? Only me?\"\n\n\"Yes. Where are we? Why am I here?\"\n\n\"I'm asking the questions.\"\n\n\"Shut up. I'm trying to remember.\"\n\n\"Really? I'll leave you to it, then.\"\n\n\"What? You're leaving? There's no door.\"\n\n\"See this button? When I push it, the whole floor moves up. We're in an elevator.\"\n\n\"The ground is.. moving. We're going up.\"\n\n\"That's what happens when we're in an elevator.\"\n\n\"Jesus, how deep are we? Why can't I move?\"\n\n\"Deep. And you can move. You just don't know how.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Ah, we're here.\"\n\n\"So bright.. Who are these people?\"\n\n\"People? They're mannequins. We're in a clothing store.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"I don't think you grasp the concept of not asking questions. It's alright, mate. This is my stop. Maybe next time I visit, you'll remember. And have some control of your motor senses.\"\n\n\"What?\" \n\n__________________\n\n\"Hello. Huh, you're awake.\"\n\n\"I woke up once the ground started moving.\"\n\n\"So, do you know where we are?\"\n\n\"Elevator.\"\n\n\"Do you remember me?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"What's my name?\"\n\n\"I.. don't know.\"\n\n\"Can you move?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Do you want to go back down?\"\n\n\"No. Please.\"\n\n\"Do you want some water?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Not yet. What year is it?\"\n\n\"1967.\"\n\n\"Ha! Bloody hell!\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Nothing. Here's you water.\"\n\n\"Thank you so much.\"\n\n\"What's your name?\"\n\n\"Malcolm.\"\n\n\"Ah. Ok.\"\n\n\"Please. I don't understand. Why are these people staring at me.\"\n\n\"These aren't people. These are mannequins. Remember?\"\n\n\"Yes. This is a.. clothing store.\"\n\n\"There you go, sonny.\"\n\n\"But they.. stare.\"\n\n\"If you don't like them I can send you back down.\"\n\n\"Yes. Please.\"\n\n\"Really?\"\n\n\"I don't like them staring.\"\n\n\"Suit yourself, then. Malcolm.\" \n\n________________\n\n\"Do you like the elevator, Malcolm?\"\n\n\"No. Who's Malcolm?\"\n\n\"You are. You said the last time we met that your name is Malcolm. Remember?\"\n\n\"Yeah. But why'd I say that? What are you giving me?\"\n\n\"Nothing. I mean, something, obviously. But you don't need to know right now.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Doesn't matter, mate. What's your name?\"\n\n\"Harold.\"\n\n\"Huh, alright then.\"\n\n\"What the fuck do you mean by 'alright then'?\"\n\n\"Nothing, Harold. What year is it?\"\n\n\"1967.\"\n\n\"Ok then. Want to get out of this room?\"\n\n\"This isn't a room. It's a huge elevator.\"\n\n\"Ok, yeah.\"\n\n\"Are there people staring upstairs.\"\n\n\"You mean the mannequins?\" \n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"There will be. Is that a problem?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Ok. Where will you like to go?\"\n\n\"Anywhere.\"\n\n\"Yes, but anywhere in particular?\"\n\n\"I don't know. No. No, I guess not.\"\n\n\"Alright. Can you move, mate?\"\n\n\"Yeah. A bit.\"\n\n\"That's a step.\" "
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One Punch?
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[WP] Your punches contain the force of a nuclear explosion. You are unexpectedly kidnapped. Your captors? Kim Jong Un and his international agents.
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"I woke up after having been knocked unconscious. \n\n**3** I was bound and gagged. My hands secured above my head with both fists pointing skyward.\n\n **2** I was tied to a rocket and standing on a launch pad.\n\n **1** The rocket ignited. I made it about 300 feet before I crashed into the ocean.\n\n The enemies of North Korea live to see another day. "
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[WP] You've been reading a chapter of a book before bed every day for years now. You're beginning to suspect that it doesn't end.
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"**Chapter 33220: Tuesday, 3rd January, 2017AD** \nDear Diary, I have been dutifully filling in your pages for many years. Many, many years. They track my growth, from the day I was born. Course, those first few volumes were filled in by Mother (my penmanship was notoriously poor at that age). It has not always been a pleasure to write down One's day either. Sorrow has traced my footsteps, as well as joy. Still, looking back through your pages, I can see that the Good greatly outnumbers the Bad. \nAnyway, today I am still suffering from this wretched cold. I used to shrug it off, but at this age, what can One expect? Keeps me from my duties, which is a pain. \nPhil is, as ever, my pillar of support, and Charlie and Ed have been on the phone. Andy's also popping in tomorrow, which is nice. \nThis cold has stuffed up my head, so I shall end it here. Hopefully I shall have more to write tomorrow. \n*Lizbeth*",
"Pushing aside a pile of discarded papers, Roy lay on his bed waiting for inspiration to hit him. \n\nLooking at the thousands of pages surrounding him he contemplated the value of his work. \n\n\"20 years,\" he whispers. \n\nStarting in his youth, Roy set out to write a novel that would truly sum up everything he felt about life. The ennui of the everyday, the joy of creation. The problem though is his life kept changing and his views on the world with it. Rifling through a stock of papers he finds a pile from around Chapter 52. \n\nHe reads aloud. \n\n'He never truly gained any insight from the loss of his love other than he could feel pain and plenty of it...'\n\n\"Ah,\" he thought. \n\n\"This was after the divorce.\"\n\nHe thought back on that time in his life and relived the feelings. He still doesn't understand why his wife never supported his work or why she felt him committing to writing full time was a mistake. She will see though. The importance of this work was too great to not be seen. \n\nInspiration was lacking tonight. The protagonist in his story had reached a crossroads he couldn't resolve. On one hand the character could break free of his self inflicted exile to go back to his true love but on the other hand would that lead to an authentic happy, ending. He read through the last chapter repeatedly hoping to find a glimmer of insight. He could feel the climax in his bones. He was nearing the conclusion of his work of genius. But it would have to wait. He felt a heavy tiredness drape over him as he clung to the pages. \n\nWeeks pass and Roy has not moved from his bed. He hasn't stirred at all. A figure in uniform enters his room and inspects the scene. \n\n\"One male, deceased. Likely here for a long time. Nothing unusual other than large amounts of blank, white paper around the body.\"",
"\"Come here, Son.\"\n\n\"Daddy?\"\n\n\"See this book? Have you read it?\"\n\n\"Yes, dad. A great book.\"\n\n\"But have you *read* it?\"\n\n\"Pardon?\"\n\n\"To the end? Did it take you long?\"\n\n\"...yes. About a week.\"\n\n\"I've been reading this book for years, and I haven't reached the end yet.\"\n\n\"I know, dad.\"\n\n\"Huh?\"\n\n\"You have been reading the same chapter over and over.\"\n\n\"No, I haven't.\"\n\n\"Yes. Daddy, sit down. We have an important talk. Do you know what Alzheimer's is?\""
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[WP] Human beings inhabited the earth many times, only to die out many times before recorded history. You just uncovered a time capsule carbon dated eons before the supposed beginning of our planet.
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"Jim held the crystal against the ceiling lighting, turning it slowly and looked through it, absorbed in thought . A voice nearby startled him. \n\n“The results of the round robin test are unambiguous, all laboratories support our analysis.”\n\nSteffi didn't even try to contain her excitement, almost bouncing on her feet.\n\n“Hm.”\n\nHis answer clearly didn't met her expectations, irritated she grabbed the sleeve of his lab coat and forced him to face her.\n\n“What's wrong? Last week I prevented you call a press conference, before our findings were verified.”\n\nA haunted look crossed Jim's face, but he replied.\n\n“We found only three crystals. Two seemingly identical and one other. I finished analysing them. The unique one emits a faint electromagnetic pulse, but I have no idea how. I suspect it is artificial, there is clearly an unnatural pattern to it. Every time the pattern reaches a certain point, the signal repeats and gets weaker. Not by a lot but measurable.”\n\n“You are thinking it's a countdown” Steffi was frowning. \n\n“Maybe. I calculated a bit. At this rate the signal will vanish in about 34 years.”\n\n“Another crystal is even more interesting. It's interior has a flawed crystal structure. The flaws appear intentional. There are 36 patterns, repeating in no fixed order.”\n\n“A message” He continued before Steffi could interject. Again he held the crystal against the light, regarding it intently. “Now an interesting question.\" His voice was shaking. \"The crystal I powdered a few days ago to analyse it's composition. Did it contain a backup copy, a part of the message or a translation primer?\""
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[WP] Year 2022. As soon as Elon Musk's ship lands on Mars, the crew finds out what the REAL mission is about.
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"I gasped for air as I heard a distant hissing sound. It's bright and my eyes are burning like fire. I stepped down and fell hard. The floor is icy cold. Cold steel is very unforgiving to bare hands. As my breathing begins to steady a large hand grabs my arm with a tight grip pulling me upwards. Looking up revealed a middle aged man gazing down at me sternly. \"Do you not remember orientation? I even reminded you as you were waking. Stay in your damn cryo-pod and wait for a technician to retrieve you. Otherwise this happens.\" He pointed at my elbow. There was something dripping from it; maybe blood. I could barely make it out as my eyes continued to adjust but the swelling was definitely noticeable. \"How long have I been asleep?” His stern look quickly turned to agitation. \"No one pays attention to the damn orientation. Make a video, they said. Tell them the answers to the questions they would ask, they said. The questions would stop, they said... 2 years 1 month and 16 days. You are waking up from your cryo-genic sleep and suffering the side effects known as cryo-poisoning. Your senses are heightened due to hypersensitivity of your nerves caused by the fluids received to keep you asleep. Your sight will return to normal within an hour. It will take about 4 hours for your vertigo to subdue. You are aboard a Space-X substation orbiting Mars. In 2 days’ time you will be accompanying Elon Musk himself along with the rest of the landing party to the surface to begin the first stages of colonization. Oh, yes. I skipped ahead of myself. We're colonizing Mars. Any other questions? No, of course not. It's the same god damn questions every time.\" He sounds upset. It looks like this is going to be a long 2 days. I hope I don't have to interact with Mr. Grumpy Cat very often, if at all.\n \nIt was a bumpy ride down to the surface. As we began our descent the view of stars in the distance began to fade out. Replaced by metallic plates raised to protect the pod as a heat shield. There were 16 rows of chairs that were 8 seats wide. They lined three of the sides and the middle space of the chamber with every seat occupying a weary traveler. The front of the ship contained a single seat facing the rest. There sat one of the most intelligent and innovative men of the century. Elon Musk.\n \nI stared at them all. Some scared, even terrified. Some curious. Some with mushy minds still afflicted by the cryo-poisoning; not even the slightest idea of what we are about to do. The history we are about to write. Clearing my throat and drinking from a water tube I prepared myself to speak. \"Ladies and gentlemen! I...am Elon Musk.\" Ugh, how I always start my speeches. I am tired of entertaining simple minded people with simple minded goals. My feelings are well hid as the sound of my voice has caught the attention of every man and woman aboard. \"We are approaching the surface of Mars! Touch down will occur in approximately 13 minutes. In a few minutes the heat shields will be lifted and you can do what no other person has ever done. You will personally look upon the surface of Mars. We have made history!\". Behind the sound of applause I could hear the mechanical clicking as the heat shield was lowered. My lead technician, Mr. Alvie, is going to catch hell when I get back. How many times do I have to say \"I don't like the clicking sound of moving gears.\" You ass hats have created iron horses that travel among the stars and my 'horse' still clicks? What am I, a heathen? Even though my agitation has made my feelings more noticeable it didn't change the faces of everyone aboard. Their faces didn't do it justice. Their eyes, though. Their eyes told a story of amazement and bewilderment at the same time. The haze of light seeping through the port holes illuminated their navy blue jumpsuits. Each embroidered with the Space-X logo. If my father taught me anything it's advertise, advertise, advertise. Nonetheless, everyone proudly wore them as if I gave it to them as gratitude. \"Those rockets you see leaving the atmosphere are Earth bound. They are taking back valuable resources to assist us in creating more ships like this one. More ships that will bring our species here. More ships that will someday save our species.\" Static entered my earpiece. My overpaid pilot is getting ready to speak. One day I will replace you with a robot. \"60 seconds to touchdown, Mr. Musk.\"\n\nAs we stepped down from the landing cruiser I finally had the opportunity to see what the hype was all about. The habitation chamber we docked with had artificial gravity making it much easier to walk. The surface navigation simulator back on earth told a different story. The only thing I gained from that damn machine was laughs. As I looked out the thick windows I saw a gargantuan machine. Possibly the size of the Statue of Liberty. It churned and spit out the martian dirt while illuminated with an orange haze. I saw his boney hand point out the window. Elon was pointing at the machine that had caught my attention. “That is only one of 6 harvesters hard at work gathering precious materials. You are here to..” He stopped talking abruptly. Three men appeared before us. They were dressed in white laboratory coats with all sorts of devices secured to the utility belts they wore. All three wore thick glasses that were metallic and reflective. I was staring back at myself in all three sets of glasses. Their faces were entirely void of all expression. As they moved forward I felt myself begin to retreat. “Do not be frightened. These technicians are here to ensure you are healthy and in good condition. The cryo-poisoning has been known to return with a much fiercer vengeance the second time around.” Elon’s voice was stern but comforting and reassuring. The technicians began by taking our temperature and reading our blood pressure. It seems like every world you live on this is a doctor favorite. Ah I see you are missing a leg, good sir. Let’s have a look at that blood pressure, shall we? “Ouch! What the hell?” I felt a prick on my neck. The technicians were slowly moving through the crowd applying a shot of something to everyone’s neck. It left a strange pattern. 5 dots in a hexagonal circle with one in the center. The screaming began without warning. First, a woman in her mid-thirties. The rest joined in shortly after. The three technicians stood there staring at us with the same expression as when we had met them. \n\nElon walked to the front and turned to address us. “Would you all please calm yourselves?” I could barely hear him over the screams and shouts. He cleared his voice. “Ladies and gentlemen! CALM DOWN! You are experiencing hysteria. The shot you have just received is nothing more than an antibiotic to stem the possibility of your cryo-poisonings return.” Slowly the commotion began to subdue. “The antibiotic is mixed with a new agent we have been developing. It has quite a remarkable effect on the psychological state of our fragile minds. Fortunately these symptoms last no longer than a few moments.” A soft voice trembled from behind me. “Why have we been given this new agent and what is it for?” The expressions on Elon’s face turned to focused concentration. What he was about to say must be very important to him. “I am afraid I have not been entirely truthful with all of you. We left Earth to come to this red planet to save the human species. I said that the plan laid out to save our kind would take place over the course of the next 15 to 20 years. I lied. I said that we plan to colonize and live on Mars. I lied. Our planet is dying. As we speak the atmosphere where you once lived has deteriorated to less than 22%. I am afraid that everyone you knew and loved on Earth is dead. For years we monitored our atmosphere and tried to slow the rate at which it fell apart. We thought that the machines that we created were the cause of the increased deterioration rate. We were wrong.” Elon paused as he looked down at the ground. His head rose slowly to meet the gaze of everyone looking at him. The gaze he received made him cringe. The looks of those that have just endured great loss. “Our universe is dying. It has reached its end. Within 5 years every particle in our universe will cease to exist. We learned of this in 2006 but unfortunately we thought we had more time. Our scientists estimated that this would not happen for at least another 200 years. They were wrong. And that brings me to the agent you have received. For years my company has been researching alternate universes. In 2013 we finally had a breakthrough. We have discovered a way to tap into and even travel to these universes. The problem is that the human mind simply cannot comprehend what I have just told you. This medicine we have created is used to help you maintain your sanity. I am sure you are all very tired. My technicians will show you to your sleeping quarters.” Everyone stared at Elon intensely. Even with the agent he has given me my mind is still reeling. My voice is shaking uncontrollably and I can feel tears beginning to form. “Elon, when will we be traveling to this alternate universe?” Elon stared at me with a slight grin. “We already have.”",
"\n“All hands to the forward cabin at 14:00 hours.” Elons voice rang out over the ship’s intercom system.\n\nThe crew was anxious, the ship was to land in less than 2 days and this was the first they had heard from Elon in months. \n\n\nThe first few weeks following departure Elon had been cordial some even called him their friend, but as the months passed he grew more and more recluse. \n\n\n“Hey, John. What do you suppose this is all about?” Gary leaned over to ask his roommate as the two slurped down the last bit of their cutely named Interstellar Slop.\n\n\n“Shoot, I wish I knew.” John shook his head,” I came on this mission to start a new life under the” raising his hands in air quotes “Genius mind of our generation” lowering them again ”and he has been MIA for months.”\n\nThe commissary was alive with the bustle of the coming and going of a new lunch shift. \n\n“Well I guess I’ll see you up there in a few.” Gary shrugged his shoulders. \n\n\nA crowd formed in the forward cabin as the clock creeped towards 14:00. The cabin had seats for 100, wrapped in fake white leather, all of them were occupied. A few of the crew stood near the windows which were really just large tvs streaming the California desert. The governmental body that funded the research for long term space flight (LTSFA), found that humans dealt with the stresses of space better, when they weren’t constantly confronted with an infinite blackness around them. \n\n\n“I’m surprised LTSFA didn’t decree The Eagles radio get streamed 24 hours a day,” John chuckled, “you know, to calm our …” \n\n\n“ Hello crew members, “ Elons voice seemed to pulse from all directions.\n\n“I’m sure you are all aware by now that we are only days away from our historic mission of landing humans on Mars.” The speakers crackled and hissed between sentences. \n\n“Upon take off we had calculated our chances of a safe landing at 98%” Elon carried on.\n\n“Around one month into our trip is when I first learned of the new calculations.”\n\n“It seems that due to a slight miscalculation we in fact only have a 12% chance of a successful landing.” The crew gasped , all on the edges of their seats. \n\n“ I know all of you are probably worried, worried sick in fact about what will happen if I Elon Musk the Genius of our generation were to perish on this journey.” the speakers hissed ,” You will be pleased to know that the LTSFA has determined that it is far too dangerous a proposition to risk the life of Elon Musk over. Therefore I returned to earth in our emergency escape ship several months ago.” \n\n\n“This is bullshit! “ John Yelled as he flipped over his chair. \n\n“Quiet down crew, quiet down. I don’t think you heard me. I AM SAFE and will be working on another mission to Mars! All of our hopes and dreams will someday be a reality, I trust that in the unlikely event that you do successfully land on mars, you will follow protocol per our agreement. Good Day Crew… Elon out.” and the speakers hissed. \n",
"This has been a long, trying, arduous journey.\n\nIt has also been beautiful.\n\n...And for most of us, boring.\n\nBut there was promise of excitement, untold wonder, a wealth of knowledge to be learned, strength found in community, and new beginnings. All of that, now, I realize as I stand before the doors of the space ship that brought us here, is mere footsteps away.\n\nMy heart begins to race in anticipation. Sweat beads on my forehead, and I wring my hands together in their bulky gloves. Quietly, I observe the others around me. Lucy and Jack had abandoned their normally chatty dispositions in favour of nervous silence. Kevin stands with his hands on his hips, his feet shoulder-width apart, and a smug smirk tugging his lips up to to right. His eyes are wide, and his lips part as the spaceship's doors *click*.\n\nI turn my head toward the front, where Elon stands suited in front of the doors as they begin to split from the middle and separate. He is calm and relaxed - or so it would seem at first glance, but there is a twinkle of boyish glee in his eyes. \"Ladies and gentlemen, we have... It's been a long time coming. There were some, um-\" He pauses for a second, raising his hands in a confusing gesticulation as he attempts to gather his words. \"...Difficult situations. For the most part, it has been an, uh ... a smooth ride, right? We're here now.\"\n\n\"YEAH!\" Kevin shouts, and I look at him just in time to see him fist-pumping the air. \"Mars!\"\n\nElon chuckles. It sounds a bit forced. \"Yes, Mars. We've arrived!\"\n\nAs the gap between the doors separate, the reddish terrain of Mars takes form. It's rocky and Earth-like, and instills within me a sense of familiarity and home. I've been in deserts like this before. They seemed alien at the time, and it occurs to me now how strange it is to be in an alien environment that reminds me of home.\n\n...But, I digress.\n\n\"I confess that I, uh....\" Elon chuckles again, this time more quietly, and clasps his hands together. \"I was not entirely forthright with the goals of this mission. A settlement, yes Colonization. However- You know- Sometimes....\" He's grasping for words again. I'm not ... at all sure where he's going with them, but I'm feeling more nervous than ever.\n\nA secret agenda?\n\n\"...NASA approached me years ago, with the knowledge that life had been found on Mars. While this information was kept from the public, someone, in secret, sold the, uh- the information to several leading consu- hm, fast food chains.\"\n\n...Wait, *what*?\n\n\"You're saying that someone sold classified information to McDonalds?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" Elon replies. \"Exactly, and others, with the goal of- I don't know, no one knows.\"\n\n\"That makes no sense,\" Stacy says. \"Why would they do that?\"\n\n\"Chicken.\"\n\n\"...What?\" I say, taking a step forward.\n\n\"There are chickens on Mars. Space chickens. ...Mars chickens.\"\n\n\"What.\"\n\n\"NASA has entrusted me- you- *us* with the task of collecting specimen, tagging them, and releasing them-\"\n\nI reach up to scratch my forehead, only to remember that I'm wearing a helmet. I rub at the glass. \"Tagging them, so we own them?\"\n\n\"Yes. This is, uh. This is to prevent a space-race between the fast food chains, and the extermination and extinction of an alien species.\"\n\nI had been so completely engrossed by the ridiculousness of this information that I failed to realize the complete opening of the doors. I look past Elon and up into the orange Martian sky, then to the rocky ground. Something moves in the shadows. I squint.\n\nA single feathered animal steps out from behind a large rock. Its camouflaging feathers hide it well, and I can barely make out any distinct features aside from large, bright orange eyes and a scarlet beak.\n\nMore movement.\n\nI turn my gaze from the creature, and as my sight focuses I notice that the area is dotted with these animals.\n\n\"Oh, my god.\"\n\nThe crew chatters back and forth to each other. I can't decipher what they're saying.\n\n\"...Space chickens,\" I say quietly.\n\n\"Welcome to Mars.\"\n\n...Space chickens.",
"The door to our SpaceX ship opened. We walked through and stepped out, finally setting foot on the red planet. It had been a long time coming. It had been many months, hurtling through space in cramped quarters, in bad gravity. And it was all just to be the first humans to set foot on Mars. Now we were here. I was thrilled. It was everything I had ever wanted. My name would go down in the history books. But nevertheless, something felt off. It was something that had been bothering me since before we left. Why did Elon Musk, legendary futurist and billionaire, want to fly the bunch of us all the way out to Mars? Was it really only to touch dirt--was it really just to say we did it?\n\nI saw him a few times in the ship during the trip (he usually stayed by himself, in his private room, guarded by specialized military personnel). I tried to voice my questions then, but it was to little avail.\n\n\"So are we *really* going all this way, spending all this money, just to be the first humans on Mars?\" I asked. \"Is there really nothing more to it than that?\"\n\nElon looked away and sort of blushed. Then, out the side of his mouth, he said: \"Of course. I've had a deep and enduring admiration for the first men to walk on the moon. I always wanted to be the one to do something comparable. And even though what we will be doing is much later in history, and is in a way not nearly so monumental, I nevertheless believe that it *is* important--just to set foot on Mars. You should be proud of yourself. You will be among the first ever to land on another planet. But anyways, I must be off.\"\n\nAs he walked away I remember thinking, \"Yes, I've heard this all a hundred times, in his press releases and SpaceX conferences, as well as in the training modules we all had to go through to be prepped for this trip. Yet still, it seems hollow...inauthentic...I fear he is keeping something significant back. I fear there is something he isn't telling us.\"\n\nWe stood on the barren red planet of sand and wind and dark mystery, staring at the open door of the ship, waiting for Elon to emerge--Elon, our fearless leader. \n\nStrap, a man with whom I completed every module of mission training, put his hand on my shoulder. I looked at him. He was beaming and sobbing with joy. There were literal tears in his eyes. There is no other way to put it but that he was an acolyte, a convert to the futuristic religion and cult of personality that surrounded Elon Musk. \n\n\"He's finally...\" said Strap, speaking to me as if about the Gospel. He could hardly get the words out, he was shaking so much. \"He's finally done it! Our hero!\"\n\n\"We've done it too,\" I said, kindly. \"You and I. It was a tough journey...\"\n\n\"We are mere pawns among kings, peasants among gods, ants scurrying about who live only to serve their great leader! By him we are given purpose! Through him we are made whole!\"\n\nHis voice was rising. Another man heard him and shouted: \"To Elon and his glory!\"\n\nA number of others heard and joined in, shouting and weeping, though not everyone. We weren't all cooky converts. I looked around to see who had drank the Kool-aid. Over the course of the trip, it seemed, a number of people who had been on the fence about Elon, who had admired him only moderately, now seemed to be swept up in all-encompassing hero-worship. These people, many of whom were the best and brightest of the human race--physicists, chemists, engineers--had been reduced to grovelling henchmen and cult-worshipers by Elon Musk's vision and charisma. It seemed like they would do anything he asked them to. Anything. No matter how terrible.\n\nI looked off into the distance. Mars' horizon looked much like Earth's: inscrutable and distant, hiding places and secrets just beyond eyesight. Places and secrets that can only be reached through great journeys, that can only be found by first having faith, committing to a journey to an unseen place, and heading towards the place, not knowing what it might hold. \n\nThere was a commotion growing behind me. I turned around and finally saw him, Elon Musk, stepping out of the ship and onto the planet. He was waving; he was smiling with that boyish, winning smile of his. In his eyes were boundless curiosity, innocent inquisitiveness, but also a fierce drive to compete, to win, to crush those keeping him from his goals. The moderate among us clapped. The acolytes wailed and screamed; one even fell to the ground in fits and spasms. Eventually the commotion died down. There was silence. We were waiting to hear what Elon had to say...\n\n\n\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] As the sole survivor of a downed fighter jet in the Pacific Ocean, you've managed to elude death for 2 months. It's only now you're realizing that the diet of rainbow colored sea life which has nourished you, is *changing* you
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"I looked out into the ocean around me seeing the waves tumble over each other and combine until they crashed into the white sandy shore. The sun was rising and it was almost time to hunt for more fish. All I had to eat was fish. Scaly, colorful, bland tasting fish. \n\nI hated eating it. I had always despised the taste of fish, and hated even having to touch one. Eating a fish for every meal, everyday made survival almost not worth it. No one would find me, if they could have found me they would have been here by now. I crashed months ago, I sent a distress signal, I made sure they had my location, I swam away form the wreck to this horrid island, I did what I had to. \n\nThis whole time has been torture. I haven't spoken in two months, I don't know what my own voice sounds like anymore. I walked up to the water with my makeshift spear. After a short walk down the beach I came apon the lagoon. It was a large pond filled to the brim with salt water and one kind of fish. I didn't even have multiple options on the menu, just one kind of rainbow fish.\n\nThey all looked the same, all small and round and swimming away from me. Their scales shown the suns light back at me, they tried to get away but I speared two. Enough for now. I walked back along the green sanded beach to my poorly maintained shelter. Just a hole in the ground.\n\nMy firepit was covered in ashes and scales which made a nauseating fume when they burned. I stood in the middle and lit a match as the fire began to burn my feet making a sweet smell, the pain didn't matter. I dropped the fish into the fire, and ate them once the scales were mostly burnt off. After stepping out of the firepit to go lay in the orange sand for a while I brushed the extra scales of my feet, and picked the newly grown ones out leaving a trail of blue blood in the purple sand. \n\nThe others would have enjoyed it here, nothing ever changes just like they say it should be.",
"If I stared into the ocean for too long, the reflection of the sun would burn my retinas. I place my free hand over my eyes as my fishing line, improvised from parts in my survival kit, bobs in the current. As pins and needles invade my legs, I wiggle in the sand briefly before I feel a tug on my line. Urgently, I pull on it feeling whatever I caught on the hook. Without a proper reel, I pull on the line, winding it around my hand and battling with my adversary. When its shadow in the shallow water became clear, my heart soared as I lifted large fish dressed in multicolored scales from its home. Stoking the fire made from the vegetation of the island, I eagerly skinned the animal and dug into entrails. \n\nFor two months, I repeated the process while stuck on the shore. The island itself had many sheer cliffs and inclines which made it both dangerous and difficult to explore the interior, so I built a shelter out of palm leafs and reeds on the shore, along with an eternal fire to glow as a beacon to the ocean. On a dark night, its gentle kindling could rival the reflections of the moon in the endless tides which surrounded my new home. I learned to loathe the ocean, yet without access to the interior of the island, I was forced to depend on the plentiful and beautiful fish it provided along with whatever vegetation and seaweed I could scavenge. \n\nI don’t remember when, though I dimly recall etching the sixtieth tally mark on a local tree, but I began to see strange shapes and figures in the ocean. I dismissed the idea as a gentle mirage or a fault in my desalination process, but even when I took refuge in the shade and checked my water supply using a basic chemical test included in my survival kit, the images still danced in the waves. Whenever I approached them, however, they disappeared into whatever depths from which they came, though I swear I could hear a faint laughter when it happened. \n\nI called to them in the night. I asked them who they were and why they spied on me. I laughed into the horizon and let the world around me melt. The stars in the sky would come crashing down upon the earth, creating ripples beneath my feet, but I never cared. Instead I lay on the sandy cay and admired the velvety black sky which smothered the earth as the sudden realization of the vastness of space invaded my mind. Whenever I endured these episodes, I often woke in the middle of the morning in a cold sweat with the nagging feeling that my dreams were more than dreams. Without a psychological evaluation in my survival kit, I fended off madness in the day as I fished and only succumbed to the visions under the moon. \n\nOn my final night, the fish erupted from the tides of the ocean. Their beautiful scales sparkled in the moonlight, distracting me from their newly acquired humanoid forms. They tore me from my camp as I left behind fingernails in the bloody sand. When the waters swallowed me, the salt invaded my lungs, yet I found no lack of breath. Instead they dragged me into the abyss, slowly letting the daylight dwindle into sweet nothingness and the warmth fade into a frigid chill. Stalks of bioluminescent orbs emerged from their heads, but even with the light, only blackness consumed us. \n\nI recall the strange architecture of the city, though. Made from blackened stone, their angles defied conventional geometry as supplementary angles no longer summed to right angles. The triangles affixed to the roofs of the buildings refused to follow the theorem of an insignificant human. Instead bizarre angles ruled the inhuman shapes the built the most magnificent buildings to cross my eyes. They stretched to the surface without ever reaching it in every shape beyond imagination. In my awe, I barely caught the sight of the citizens of the city: more fish and squids carelessly mixed together by some benevolent god, they swam through the streets and alleys with the utmost urgency without much regard to my presence. \n\nWhen I reached the palace, the throne room housed a giant figure, at least seven stories, adorned in countless tentacles and wings on a vaguely humanoid figure which radiated the purest black I had ever seen. The fish spoke briefly with the figure who seemed to command their respect and adoration. Their language, however, as it grated against my ears, seemed to be constructed from grunts and squeals that I could make no attempt to replicate with my vocal cords. With a simple gesture, however, he commanded them as endless blackness filled the room. I wanted to stay in that terrible place with all my heart. I wanted to learn their language and swim among their kind, but he forbade it; he deemed me an unworthy servant.\n\nInstead they, my rescuers, found me floundering on the surface with a severe case of hypothermia in the hot humidity found near the equator. My case made the news and as new nutrients found my stomach, I slowly regained sanity, but on days when I stare into the sea for too long, I can still see figures and shapes dance along the shore. \n\n*****\n\nMore stories at r/Andrew__Wells"
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[WP] It is the year 2022, and for the past five years, every single baby born has been male.
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"\"Ladies and gentlemen -\"\n\nCarl was addressing the board. He was wearing one of his more expensive suites that day. A 3 piece, stark black, with one of this big red dumb power ties.\n\n\"Growing up, they told me that I was a positive thinker. A critical thinker, too. Very business minded.\"\n\nHe shuffled with the PowerPoint clicker. Each time he pressed it, a new picture popped up that seemed to have something to do with *success* or *business*, or just something overly positive in appearance.\n\n\"We have to come to terms with the reality that our species may only be around for 1, maybe 2 more generations, max.\"\n\nClick. 2 men of different skin colors shaking hands.\n\n\"Most people would be upset about this. We're starting to see our first few spikes in suicide rates. Hell, most rational people just don't know what to do.\"\n\nClick. 2 men in power suites, standing back to back with dark sunglasses on, facing the camera. Toothy smiles.\n\n\"Well, I'm not like most people. Now, I'm not the best problem solver in the world. I'm not a scientist. I don't know why this is happening to us, or what we can do to change it.\"\n\nClick. A group of men in faux football uniforms standing around a ball.\n\n\"But I do know how to embrace a change. And I think that our company can conjecture a way to profit off of this. I know 2 things.\"\n\nAs he said this, the senior VP pushed his hand out in front of him, extending 2 fingers, then mouthed the word \"two.\"\n\n\"1. People can still reproduce 2. people are only reproducing males as offspring. and 3. in a few years, these babies are all going to be over 18 years of age.\" Carl shook/nodded his head with a wry smirk. \"Men only.\"\n\nCarl licked those 2 fingers, then ran them over his extremely pronounced mustache.\n\nClick. 2 men, one behind the other in some sort of art nouveau crouched position, each with futuristic, frilly looking clothes on them.\n\n\"Ladies and gentlemen, we're getting into the bar business. The gay bar business. We'll be damned cash cows, before any of our competitors think to do it, and we're doing it first. Laying down the groundwork.\"\n\nClick. Scenes from various gay pride parades collaged ontop of each other. Everyone smiling. Everyone having a good time.\n\n\"Hell, I've already broke ground on 3 or 4 sites. We'll have the clubs up in no time. The species may die out once all the women are gone, but hell, guys, we'll be rich as fuck, so who gives a shit?\"\n\nCarl looked over the rest of the board. Some seemed shocked. Others seemed to be rather into it.\n\n\"Now look, I know that some of you may be doubting this plan, being that we're a religious organization after all. But think of things statistically. More males = more gay males. More gay males = higher appeal for gay male centric low-kay-shuns.\"\n\nClick. A black and white picture of the Village People, mid-YMCA performance. \n\n\"All these normal damned clubs are going to be crawling for clientele, but we'll have established our name by then. The market will be ours, and we can retire even richer than we are now.\"\n\nClick. A slide of Carl giving an emphatic thumbs up appeared.\n\n\"What do you think?\"\n\nThere was a grumbling in the room, and ultimately, a begrudged agreement that the plan made sense.\n\n\"Alright. Welp, hold onto your asses, because we're in for a wild ride!\""
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[WP] You open a door and see a creature incomprehensible to the mortal mind. This is how your brain interprets what you saw so it doesn't break:
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"I can't express to you all enough how little I understood what I actually saw. Because I saw a lot of things. I saw what it wanted me to see: how it's been jumping from person to person frantically. I hadn't thought much of the panic that had started out of the blue downtown, but I guess some sort of sentient brain virus will do that to you. I saw the completely fucked way it's able to see through things, through *people*. And I don't just mean physically, I mean that in every sense of the word. \n\nI saw the life of a mother and her children, from her birth, to her pregnancy, raising the twins, dying, it was all there, and that was just when I made sense of the gory mess that was apparently what she looked like from the inside out. I could see and hear the thoughts of everyone near her during the blinding fast forward through her life. And then it took me through the phone in my hand.\n\nAs if human brain weren't dizzying enough to path through when I didn't even know how mine fully worked, digital communications tech was like being thrown onto an assembly line. Whatever constituted our consciousness was packaged, shunted, unpackaged, and repackaged until we found a camera, on a car dashboard. It was the crash that killed the mother.\n\nHere's where my brain starts to give up. Because all I can think of between then and my last contact with...*it*, is paralyzing fear and the faces of those kids. And grinding. The sound of metal collapsing in on itself, and pain. Piercing unbearable pressure that took the air out of my lungs. Then:\n\n*Crack.* Nothing but numbness and blindness.\n\nAnd sobbing. A child's, maybe two. \n\nI can see again. But it's not my vision, not unless this little trip has taught me how to look at myself without a mirror. *Back to bed. Aspirin. Right now.* But as soon as I think it, I remember how to drive to the hospital the mother was taken to...but I've never even HEARD of this hospital. I take a breath, and think about how I'm going to phrase this. Apparently the point made it across before the words made it to my tongue, because a warm sensation crept over me, like i was being hugged. \n\nI sigh, and move toward my car, typing in an unfamiliar phone number. And I ask the nurse on the other end about the children.",
"I honestly dont know what i saw..\nIt made no sense..\nFor weeks after seeing it.. I just could not fathom what it was.\n\nI searched high and low.. \nI scoured wikipedia and my moms old Encyclopaedia Britannica, all i found there was a reference to a toy saxophone.\n\nI even went to the hoaxers sites and the moderator Sheb Wooley banned me saying i was tutti fruity and not to come back.\n\n\nSo i sit in my short shorts sipping my tequila with you, and i tell you my friend... Your in danger.. Because of your skin tone because what i saw that night....\n\nWas a one-eyed, one-horned, flying, purple people eater!",
"As he opened the door to the shitter, John encountered a goddamned bear. He froze. \"Bears are just as sacred of me as I am of them\", he thought. \"Or maybe that's spiders.\" Either way it must have been working, the bear hadn't moved since he opened the door. \n\nJohn unfroze. \"Well are you going to maul me or are you just going to stand there all day gawking?!\"he inquired, quite annoyed that this spooked, stationary bear had proved such a roadblock for his anus. \n\nThe bear seemed to phase right through the wall, and continue on it's bear business into the woods behind John's house. \n\n\"Bout fooking time, my turtle head was starting to turn more giraffe\", remarked John, who had no time for questioning reality whatsoever. ",
"\"Look, it's very simple. The human brain is an organ that needs to have the right kind of input to make the connections correctly. It tries to make sense of what it can see. A brain and a consciousness that has trouble not tripping over its own feet on the best of days cannot expect to parse information from something that exists in fourteen dimensions. Frankly, if you'd been able to do so we would have been shocked.\"\n\nThere was a long pause. They glanced uncomfortably at each other. I looked down and into the closet. The second one began talking, almost to fill the void.\n\n\"The ramifications of our physical existence in this world and our crossing over into your sphere of awareness are something we are deeply concerned about. It could have dire consequences for your world and ours. We need to be taken to your highest authority of scientists and deep thinkers. The sooner, the better.\"\n\n I shook my head slowly, then reached down and grabbed the original speaker, slamming the closet door shut.\nHeading to the sink, I said to myself, \"Talking dish sponges. I really, REALLY need to stop drinking so much on a Tuesday.\""
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[WP] "Hello, I’m your twin," said the stranger who stepped out of the bright white light.
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"Dark clouds and nimble waves crashed against the jagged rocks. The storm and ocean wrestled for power and turned the large grey stones into nature’s punching bag. Cracks of thunder tore through invisible, airy fabric. There was pandemonium and turmoil in all directions, yet she floated peacefully. \n\t\nShe struggled to place herself in her surroundings. *Where am I?* was her first obvious and apparent thought. Her head and eyes shifted almost robotically; scanning the violent grey scene for an answer. *Tempest* was the only word that came to mind. Her heart sank as she realized she was floating. She looked down and saw only a white sheet, dancing with and against the ocean’s aggression. As she tried to make sense of it, a deafening crack of thunder and flash of lightning overwhelmed her. \n\n*Stay with us Adriana!* \n \n\nShe opened her eyes. Exhausted and starved, her eyes struggled against the intensity of the light. Placing her hands on the ground, Adriana realized the same white sheet was still below her. She grasped it, and felt a familiar grainy lump beneath it. Beach sand. \n\nAdriana looked up and saw the vibrancy of the blue sky above her. It looked like a painting, so intensely blue it seemed impossible. Relieved, she took a deep breath. She could taste the saltiness of the ocean and the distinct scent of sand. Adriana realized she had never felt this peaceful, this relieved. She steadied herself on her feet, ready to feel the soft, gritty sand on her toes. As Adriana took her first step off of her white blanket, she screamed. A paralyzing shock rose from her foot as it planted itself in the sand. Adriana could feel every muscle tighten and every nerve shriek. The tension cramped and clamped, squeezing her into complete darkness. \n\n*C’mon Adriana. YOU CAN DO IT!*\n\nShe was floating again. This time, there was no ground. No ocean. No sky and perhaps no air. All Adriana saw was darkness in all directions, and the wisp of a white blanket dancing and taunting her in the distance. Unable to organize her thoughts or orient herself in time and space, she reached. Adriana kicked and flailed, aiming and stretching towards that white blanket. It morphed. Sometimes it was a two-dimensional rectangle, sometimes a normal blanket fluttering about, and sometimes it melted and expanded like an undergraduate visual effects project. \n\nKick, flail. Kick, flail. Kick, flail. Adriana developed a rhythm that brought her closer and closer to her only source of hope. Unable to recall names, she wondered if this is what that small, slim creature felt like before it broke out of its vessel and spread its wings. She began to wonder if that’s what humans felt like between life and death. Adriana asked herself if we live in dark, tiny shells, and if true freedom comes when the shell breaks. As if the blanket read her thoughts, it expanded and enveloped her; shrouding her in warmth and comfort. \n\n\n*Hey there, don’t try and get up, we’ll bring your mom right away darling.* \n\n \nGetting up was the last thing in Adriana’s mind. There was a deep numbness on the left side of her lower back. Somehow, she knew it wouldn’t be long before that numbness turned into prickly flares of pain. Adriana tilted her head and opened her eyes just enough to see a small, frail girl limping her way. Her eyes strained against the light as the figure approached. As the girl swayed past the bed curtain, Adriana gave an exasperated yelp. \n\n\nAdriana's eyes were now wide and alive as she realized the girl at her bedside had her body, her face, and a fresh bloody wound dressing exactly where Adriana felt her numbness. Her world spun and whirled as she came face to face with the fact that she was dead. Tears welled in her eyes and the numbness in her wound spread throughout her body and emotions. However, Adriana couldn’t put her finger on one thing. *Why am I standing?* She thought. *Which one of us is the ghost?* \n\n \n Responding in perfect rhythm, the girl said *Hello, I’m your twin. Oh, and you’re welcome!*\n\n\n\n\nEdit: Formatting/Spacing",
"The ship’s lights went out. I switched my rifle’s light on and looked around the cold, dark interior of the Emperium, listening for any change. My monitor showed that the starship’s internal temperature and oxygen levels were dropping fast, and we hadn’t located the crypt-vault yet.\n\n“It’s close,” Bates said as the two of us rounded another corner and continued through the ship’s labyrinth of corridors, rifle’s raised and ready. “Tracker says we’re less than 100 meters from the crypt-vault. What do you think happened here? It’s as if the entire crew just got up and split. Took a vacation or something. And now the power’s out too? I’ve seen trash barges with better reliability. I’ve never heard of anything taking down a Senzu class-6 frigate. Nothing penetrates these things.”\n\n“We did,” I reminded him. “Whatever happened, it’s none of our business. It’s not our fault someone left the door unlocked. Just stay alert. Command wants us out as soon as possible. The quicker we make the extraction, the better. I think that’s it, up ahead.”\n\nWe paused in front a circular vault. Bates read the readout from the Tracker and gave me a quick nod. I positioned myself in front of the vault and switched to incendiary rounds as Bates began working on the vault’s console. After a few seconds, the vault door unlocked with a loud clink and slowly began to swing open. Fog poured out as the isolated and carefully calibrated atmosphere within the vault mixed with the sub-freezing atmosphere of the rest of the ship. \n\n“Selena to Homeguard,” I radioed, “We’ve located the vault and are proceeding to enter. Is everything showing up on your side? Over.”\n\n“Copy that Selena. We can hear you loud and clear. We’ve just been briefed that a Senzu patrol is on it’s way. It’ll be here in just under 20 minutes. Better make things quick. We’ll cut comms for now. If they find out we’re here, they might call for backup. We’ll reconnect in 15 minutes. Over.”\n\nWe moved through the entrance.\n\n“Mother of stars,” Bates gasped, “I didn’t dress for a funeral. How many do you think there are?”\n\n“Hundreds, at least,” I whispered. “But we only care about two. Now let’s move.” We made our way through the rows of numbered cryopods, hundreds upon hundreds like metallic coffins in a metal graveyard. Inside each, a sleeping monster. Intel said that the Senzu were developing a new genetically engineered superweapon. No one knew what it was exactly, but rumor had it that the Senzu had stolen and modified research by our own military. Some said they had managed to breed a new species, perfectly adapted to hunting humans. Whatever these things were, we had one mission: extract two specific specimen. Preferably alive. \n\nWe approached the two pods. \n\n“You go first,” I said. \n\n“Why don’t we open both of them at once?” Bates asked. “It’ll be faster.” \n\n“No. What if these things aren’t asleep? I’ll cover you.”\n\nHe moved to the cryopod in front of him, and hesitated. \n\n“I hope it’s not a snake-like thing,” Bates said. “I hate snakes. If this thing goes for my face, don’t hesitate to shoot. I’d rather up end up dead than ugly.”\n\nHe unlocked the pod’s door. There was the sound of pressurized air escaping as the door pulled open. \n\n“Mother of stars,” Bates exclaimed as he peered into the pod. “It’s–it’s…”\n\n“What?” I inched forward, finger on the trigger, and looked into the pod. It was empty. \n\n“So the Senzu are breeding air. Great. Let’s take a deep breath, hold it and get back to the ship so Command can analyze it. Command can extract our genetically modified flatulence for all I care. Gosh, do you think all the pods are like this?”\n\nI quickly turned to the second pod and opened it. Gun ready, I waited as the second pod’s door slid back. Empty as well. \n\nMy heart began beating faster. “Something’s wrong, Bates. Check the other pods.” \nI radioed to our ship. “Homeguard, can you hear us? Specified targets are not here. We’re checking the others. Respond. Over. Homeguard, can you hear us? Over. Darn it! The comms are still offline.” I began opening another pod. \n\n“Selena, this one’s—” \n\nThere was a thump. All of a sudden, I was blinded by a bright white light emanating from somewhere above. Before my visor could adjust, something hit me from behind. I was thrown forward towards the beam of light, my gun flying away from me as I slammed into the ground. Something was on me. I tried pushing myself up, but even with all my exosuit’s strength I was pinned.\n\n“Bates, come in!” I screamed. \n\nMy eyes began to adjust and I saw the outline of a person standing beneath the white spotlight. \n\n“Bates?” I asked.\n\n“Hello,” Came a female voice. \n\n“Who are you!?” I screamed, trying to muster up all the authority I could. Out of the corner of my eye I saw another person in an exosuit like mine lying on the floor, unresponsive. Bates.\n\nA woman stepped out of the bright light. She was clothed in nothing but a skintight thermsuit used for extended cryosleep. As she drew nearer, my anger turned to fear, and my fear to confusion. \n\n“I’m your twin,” She said with a great big grin. “At least, you can think of me as your twin. For now.” She brought her face close to mine, and through the helmet’s glass I saw myself. “Exosuit, disable,” She said.\n\nThe suit recognized her voice, or should I say mine, and shut off. I was trapped. The woman unlocked my helmet. The cold atmosphere hit me like a wave as I watched her place my helmet on her head, and I felt something sharp and cold enter my neck. \n\n***\n\n“Let’s see it.” Captain Yolan of the UTS Homeguard motioned to his two commandos. Selena held up two black canisters. “You say there were others?” the Captain asked, studying the mysterious objects.\n\n“We aren’t sure. Bates and I didn’t have time to look at the other pods.”\n\n“That’s alright,” the captain said. “You guys made it in and out just in time. The Senzu were just exiting hyperspace when we left. We don’t think they noticed us. You two better get some rest. We’ll place those canisters in suspended animation until Research can take a look at them. We have no clue what kind of super weapon we might be carrying on this ship.”"
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[WP] Humanity has reached a "Game over" and must decide on their next game
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"The flash was brilliantly bright and, for the briefest of moments, Mark assumed the sunlight was bouncing off something very reflective. \n\nOf course, Mark thought that for less than a second. The blast from the thermonuclear warhead erased any thought from his head with definitive precision. And, with that blast, Mark found himself disconnected from his physical body.\n\nFloating away from his corporeal... well... the remnants of his corporeal being, Mark ascended past the clouds and into the depths of space. Looking back on the planet, he was shocked (or as much as an incorporeal thought being can be) to find that of all the landmasses that crept past underneath him, none seemed to be without mushroom clouds or complete devastation from blast waves. \n\nExcept Australia.\n\n\"How the...Yeah! YEAH! KICK SOME ASS YOU HOPPING POUCHES OF PUNCHES AND KI...\"\n\n*FLASH*\n\n\"Oh. Never mind.\"\n\nAnd with that, the last vestige of humanity found itself erased entirely from the planet which it had long called home. Mark, downtrodden and dispossessed of physical form, turned to the depths of space and prepared for the next great adventure. \n\n*beep*\n\n\"Is... is that a HUD?\"\n\nSure enough, in front of (what was once) Mark floated a screen. \n\n\"Game over. Current B/D ratio: 19-8,\" Mark read. \"B/D? Whatever it is, it's in the positives at least. Right?\"\n\n\"Return to last checkpoint (-2017 years). Restart level (-201,054 years). New game,\" Mark finished reading. \n\nLooking around to see if there were any other incorporeal, floating human consciousnesses, Mark only saw the emptiness of space and the green, glowing text in front of him. \n\n\"Why me?\" Mark asked aloud. \n\nAnd, in that moment, Mark understood the meaning of the phrase, 'the silence is deafening'. Well. Had he not been vaporized he'd have also understood that a few moments prior. But in that moment it really sank in. He was alone and, for some reason beyond his rationalization, he had been left to choose the fate of humanity in some grand cosmic simulation. \n\n\"I cannot believe Elon Musk was right about this.\"\n\n*beep*\n\nLooking back to the display, Mark noticed a timer begin to countdown from 10. \n\n\"Oh hell no. I have no idea!\"\n\n*9*\n\n\"-201,054? Is that before Rome?\"\n\n*8*\n\n\"Mark. Pull yourself together.\"\n\n*7*\n\n\"You can't, dumbass. You're incorporeal.\"\n\n*6*\n\n\"NOW IS NOT THE TIME TO PICK ON YOURSELF.\"\n\n*5*\n\n\"Okay. Okay. I've got this.\"\n\n*4*\n\nMark reached out with his thoughts towards the display. \n\n*3*\n\nHe highlighted his choice and paused. \n\n*2*\n\n\"Holy crap I hope this is right.\"\n\n*1*\n\n\"Here goes.\"\n\n*click*\n\n"
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[WP] You've always been able to see the number floating over their heads. A number that indicates how many years they have to live. One day however, you see the number -1...
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"I stood in the coffee shop, waiting for my flat white with Joanna.\n\n\nThe Barista gave us our coffees. She had a large number floating above her head. It read “63”\n\n\nPoor girl. I’d actually started to get upset lately about it again. The number was about half a foot tall, and only reflected light around it. It would move through objects, so in rooms with low ceilings I wouldn’t be able to see.\n\n\nThe number said how many years that person had until they died.\n\n\nThe reason that I’d been upset about the Barista was her low number. She was in her mid 20s, so she’s die in her late eighties. There was a man behind us, dressed casually but a lot better off. His number was “873”. He’d probably live out Nine hundred years. Joanna had “423” over her.\n\n\nBabies tended to have huge numbers. Often in the thousands, I’ve even seen tens of thousands. I think that the younger that you are, the better you’ll be able to deal with whatever immortality technology was around. People my age usually had somewhere between three hundred and a thousand. The cut-off tended to be people around 40. If you were younger then you’d live out a few centuries, if you were older then there was a simple basis. The rich lot become immortal first. Then within a few decades the poor got it. Mixed in were a lot of 40 year olds who weren’t getting their chance to live out a few centuries.\n\n\nI tried to shake the feeling. I have no idea why I have this gift. I didn’t even know what it was until I was eight. I’d stopped asking my parents by then what it all meant. Though I’d worked out by then that older people had lower numbers. My grandmothers death had been upsetting.\n\n\n“You ok?” Joanna asked me.\n\n\n“Yeah, yeah I am.” I said.\n\n\n“I think you need a holiday.” she said.\n\n\n“Nah, I’m fine.” I said.\n\n\n“Things ok at work?” she asked.\n\n\n“Yeah. Yeah they’re great.” I said\n\n\nI worked about twenty minutes a day. The numbers appeared in photographs(but not mirrors for some reason). Life insurance was actually an extremely profitable industry if you mostly only sent through people who had more than 40 years to live. I didn’t knock back everyone who was due to die in an accident of course. But I got the files of people my workers had approved, and I kept people with kids or who were the sole breadwinner. I wasn’t a monster. I was just very rich. Every now and then I’d see someone who was showing up as a zero. They were usually either hiding some terrible illness, were about to go on an interesting holiday or worked in a dangerous job. On the holidays and dangerous jobs I was surprisingly successful in getting those numbers bumped a few years. It was also efficient because I could see on their photo the moment that I’d convinced them enough to change their future.\n\n\nI had no number.\n\n\nWe walked out of the coffee shop. I tried to keep myself from thinking about the Barista. The numbers in New York were quite good actually. This part of the country would probably get immortality for the masses cheap early on.\n\n\nI tried to distract myself by trying again to think of an industry to work in when life insurance became less profitable (accidents do happen, I think)\n\n\nThen I saw her. She was coming the opposite way down the footpath.\n\n\nShe was wearing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. I noticed that it was actually a man’s T-shirt. It had a New York Knicks logo on it. Standard tourist sort. She was very tall, at least 6 foot, with black hair.\n\n\nHer number was -1.\n\n\nI stopped walking, stopping Joanna.\n\n\n“What’s wrong?” she asked.\n\n\nThe woman kept walking towards us.\n\n\nI couldn’t stop staring.\n\n\n“Babe, you look terrified.” Joanna said.\n\n\nShe looked where I was. The woman was about to veer off to the side about ten feet from us when she slowed. Having noticed that I was staring at her.\n\n\nShe stopped.\n\n\nJoanna whispered in my ear. “Who is she? Is she an ex?”\n\n\nI shook my head. Joanna squeezed my hand. “You look so scared.”\n\n\nThe woman began walking again, trying to rush past us.\n\n\nI tried reaching out to grab her, then stopped myself. Instead as she passed I just asked her one thing and turned after her.\n\n\n“What are you doing here?”\n\n\nShe stopped about 3 feet away from me.\n\n\nShe looked at me and said, “I thought I’d invented it. I guess not. I’m doing the same thing you are.”\n\n\n“What?” I asked.\n\n\n“Changing the future.”\n\n\nAll around her. Number began to blink. Then they became zeros.",
"Everyone is different, aren't they? It's what they teach you in school - everyone has some kind of \"specialness\", a unique quality that you seek in order to find worth in yourself. Some of the kids were set to be sports stars. One girl ended up on the news, built some kind of cheap gadget to help developing nations. You don't remember. You didn't really care enough to listen.\n\nIf only you'd ended up with a useful skill and not... Those numbers.\n\nWhen something's wrong with you, you work out pretty fast that no one else goes through the same thing. Everyone else was surprised when your grandmother passed, but not the child who saw those numbers trickle down faster than they probably had any right to. (You pick up the tricks of it once you made it to high school - they're far from fixed and every now and then something about them changes, whether it's a freak accident or some kind of disease.) It becomes part of life, detaching yourself from them until the figure becomes as benign a detail as the eye colour of a passer by. There's no point dwelling on them.\n\nThe nagging guilt when you see a two or a three in a kid or a young family still hasn't passed, but there's not much you can really do. It's not as though you can change the numbers - you've tried, as foolish as the idea was - you are just cursed to watch them fall.\n\nYou're out once again, bundled up in layers of fabric and indifference as you brave the wintry streets for a cup of coffee and a change of pace. You're outside on some carbon copy street, weaving through a sea of scarves and digits, when you finally get the feeling that something is very wrong. It takes a moment to put your finger on it, left standing in the street and squinting through the fog of your own breath when you finally spot it. \n\nNegative one.\n\nNegative one years.\n\nThat's... Not possible. It shouldn't be possible, and it hasn't happened before. Crossing the street - not easily, as the blaring horn pulls you back down to Earth in time to sprint out of the way - the number flickers, cycling through a series of impossibilities and taunting you every step of the way. Four hundred. Negative nine. Three thous- Four thousand and nine. It steals the breath from your throat in one sharp gasp as you finally lock eyes with the amused stare under the flickering numbers.\n\nHe's... Well he's not young, but it's too much of a stretch to say that he looks old, either. He simply *is*, and somehow combining that thought with the flickering numbers brings on a headache that's more than a simple lack of your morning fix.\n\n\"There you are.\"\n\nYou reply to his cheerful relief with a stony silence. None of this should be happening, not when you've been watching for years and nothing changed.\n\n\"How about a coffee?\"\n\nA quiet nod. You look down at your pockets, stuffed with cold hands and loose change. A slow sigh casts yet another misty cloud between the two of you as you mull over the possibilities of the flickering numbers.\n\nThe two of you make your way down the street with no measure of haste, though it seems as he prefers to travel along a path of anomalies. Miss Three, who you've been watching ever since she moved in with her children a few months ago, has suddenly become Miss Thirty. The skulking boys around the front of the run-down state townhouse in their rough gang colours lose five points apiece.\n\nOne of them doubles over and coughs, a rattling sound as his friends blow smoke in his direction and mock his posture and weakness. You can't take your eyes off it, though your companion doesn't seem to mind the silence.\n\nIn a sea of shifting numbers and perspectives, you lose track of things until all of a sudden you are left sitting across the booth from him, with the waitress placing a steaming mug in front of you.\n\n\"I...\"\n\nYour voice betrays you as you cast your glance out to the street and catch your own reflection in the mirror. That one slowly flickers, a zero appearing out of nowhere beside it and you could swear it is staring you down, carving a hole in your very being.\n\nMaybe the day isn't as cold as you thought.\n\n\"What,\" he comments idly, stirring some sugar into his tea. \"Did you think that seeing them was all there is to it?\"\n\n",
"I stared at the number hovering over my friend's head. I hadn't seen him in a while, only talking over Facebook and texts, and it was great to see him again.\n\nBut, that number. -1 years to live. I stared at it in disbelief as he walked toward me. Exactly 365 days since he was supposed to die. The thumping music seemed to get more muffled as he came closer.\n\nAs he came closer, I grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him off to the side, away from where everyone else was, so we could have privacy.\n\n\"Taylor.\"\n\n\"Yeah, what? What's so important?\"\n\n\"This time, last year. What did you do?\"\n\nHe smirked and blew air out of his nose, his shoulders going up and then back down. He looked me up and down, before looking me in the eyes. I could see they were wet, with a deep sadness behind them.\n\n\"I tried to kill myself.\"\n\n----\n\nwill continue later because it's almost 2 AM\n"
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[WP]On a normal r/askreddit thread, "What was the creepiest thing you saw as a child." Everyone recounts seeing the same black figure wearing a hat.
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"*So I was maybe eleven years old, maybe heading into middle school. I wasn't doing much that day. Just playing some retro shit or anything else. I heard some kids yelling outside and I peeked out the blinds, then I saw him. A black hated figure staring from the side walk. His clothes looked like something you'd see in a prohibition documentary. His face was just as dark as his dress shirt. His mouth seemed to be slammed shut. Sockets sat where his eyes should have been. The kids on the street walked right past him, laughing and chatting. I ran to my mom but she thought I was playing games. I never saw him move from that spot for at least a full day until I woke up and, well, he was gone*\n\nThe comments below it all seemed similar. They detailed some sort of un-moving man watching from across the street. I laughed and gave it an up vote. Whoever posted this must have been sitting on these accounts waiting for an opportunity like this. Reading the rest of the thread kind of seemed pointless at this point. By far this was gonna be a r/nosleep legend. I heard teens outside sneaking through the late afternoon with hushed whispers. I put my fingers through the blinds and checked out onto the sidewalk. They where clad in leather jackets and had fingers up to their lips as they paced down the road, obviously up to no good. I dropped the blinds but something caught my eye through the slit. The brim of a black hat could be made out against the darkness. \n\nCautiously I opened up the blinds again. A man stood on the sidewalk staring into my eyes. It was like he could see straight through the window screen. I shut the blinds yet again. My breathing went from deep to quick and shallow. My hands where shaking in front of the dimly lit computer screen. I rushed to the lights and flipped them on. A small bit of comfort came with the illumination of the room. I peeked through the window yet again. He was still there, his face was partially lighten up by the lights in my room. The holes where his eyes should have been caved in perfectly with the contours of a skull. He wore a long black coat along with a similarly colored vest. His arms rested perfectly still at his sides, hands in his jacket pocket. \n\nMy apartment was void of anyone else. Just me and my thoughts enclosed in a space that wasn't even really my own. I grabbed the key off my desk and decided to go for it. Maybe if I could get to my car I could get away from, it. My hands kept shaking as I rushed down the steps gripping the railing. Slowly I walked through the front hall and carefully pushed open the front door. The man slowly brought his head down from my apartment window to where I stood. He reached his charcoal hand up and tipped his hat towards me. Then slowly brought his hand back into the pocket of his jacket. I ran to the car panting. I was shaking too much to get the key into the lock. Eventually, the key slipped in and I swung open the door and slammed the key into the ignition. I pulled out of the driveway and sped out of the parking lot. \n\nI kept my eyes on the passing road. I never looked back, keeping my foot on the pedal. I swerved on an exit and ended up on an interstate. A few cars traveled along with me to no where in particular. Simply away from it. I turned on the radio only to static. Through the waves of crashing noise came a rhythmic tapping. It was like a clicking code trying to speak. I kept changing station but was met with the same static. My shoulders tensed. A tapping sensation went through my shoulder to the beat of the static. I glanced up to the rear view mirror.\nThe man in the back seat tipped his hat with a charcoal hand and nod.",
"I saw this man at my window as a small child, of course he was gone when adults looked. As an adult nurse, there was the whole \"one room where stuff happened\". I go to check on old patient, who had always been very cranky, this night he said there was a man at the window with a hat on. I went to the window, but was chilled at his words, assured him there was nothing there. To try and rest. He passed the following morning. I believe a whole lot more stuff than before I became a nurse, have seen and heard things.",
"I woke up suddenly to my phone ringing. Who in the hell is calling me at 4:30 in the morning? My caller ID says it is an unlisted number. \"Damn telemarketers\" I mutter to myself, denying the call. Not three seconds later, my phone is ringing again. Refusing to be disturbed, I ignore the vibrations next to my head. Apparently, whomever is on the other line doesn't get the hint. By the fifth call, I lose my temper. I answer with a curt \"Who is this? Why are you calling me at this hour?\" \n\n\"You've been spotted. Click the link and you will understand.\" The call drops immediately, and I see a new text message pop up. Thoroughly creeped out and confused, I open it. \"Reddit? Why am I getting sent to Reddit of all places?\" Convinced one of my friends is pranking me, I click the link. It brings me to a thread in r/AskReddit, and I delve in. From the first comment, I realize something is wrong. What had started as a thread about creepy childhood memories was now my nightmare. Every single person recounted seeing ME off in the distance. Rarely was I doing anything but watching, but it was definitely me. Not that anyone used my name, I was referred to as a black figure in a hat. \n\nIt was the descriptions of the hat that confirmed it for me. Nobody had a hat like mine. I had made it when I was in high school taking a sewing class. I had been trying to impress a certain girl, and she was the one who had designed it. It was a tall stovepipe with a domed top, a huge floppy brim, and a giant brass buckle. When I found out she had designed it to make me look foolish, I had decided to wear it as a symbol of pride. The look became mine, and I've rarely taken it off since. My other conformation was their descriptions of the black cloak I constantly wore. It had a distinctive patch on it I had made in honor of my friend who passed and sewn onto the left breast. Everyone on Reddit was calling it the \"Edmurdy Patch.\"\n\nAt that moment, my doorbell rang. \"This morning is strange enough already,\" I muttered to myself grabbing a nearby Louisville Slugger. \"This better not be related. I mean come on, how could it be?\" Cautiously, I opened the door. Standing before me were three official looking men. The two men in suits standing a step back, I had never seen before. The third man, standing closest to me, I was certain I had met in the past. He was wearing a lab coat with the ease of someone who spent most of their time in one. No matter how hard I tried, I could not place his face. \n\n\"May we come in Sir?\" asked the doctor. Without waiting for a response, the three men began to stride forward. \"We promise to be quick, and I am absolutely positive you do not wish to have this conversation outside.\"\n\n\"No!\" I screamed. \"You can leave right now! I'm done dealing with things I don't understand!\" I waved the bat threateningly, doing my best to looking intimidating in nothing but my pajamas. Undeterred, the men in suits calmly picked me up, carried me to my couch, and threw me down. I lay cowering in an ungraceful heap, more confused than intimidated. \"What is this about?\" I finally managed to stutter. \"Why me?\" \n\n\"Do you remember me Edward?\" \n\nI stared at the doctor, shocked. Was he talking to me? My name wasn't Edward, was it? I was so confused. \"Who are you? Why are you doing this to me? Who is Edward? Why am I supposed to know who you are?\"\n\n\"What do you know about the Division of Greater Sciences?\" demanded the man in the lab coat. \n\nAt that moment, my phone rang again. Another unlisted number. \"You should answer that\" all three men said in unison. \"Its important.\"\nTaking a deep breath, I picked up my phone and held it to my ear. Before I had a chance to say anything, the same voice from earlier sent shivers down my spine. \n\n\"You have failed me. You were supposed to be my best, but you have chosen to be seen at every opportunity. You are no longer useful to me. Goodbye Mr. Murdy.\"\n\nThe room was silent as I put my phone down. I was staring at the floor. What was going on? Why do these people seem to know more about me than I know myself?\n\n**CLICKCLICK**\n\nMy head jerked up at the sound. I was staring down the barrels of twin Desert Eagles, one held by each suit. Apparently this was the end. \n\n**BOOM**\n\n\"Guess you forgot to install memories in this one Doc. Experiment 62.6 has been terminated. Lets blow this joint\"",
"Well, like most reddit threads with a title like this, this one certainly had some... unusual responses. Some talked about a big dark house, like most would think are scary. However, most of them had varying descriptions because we all have a fear of such things. Some brought up stuff like an injured animal, which is also pretty scary. \n\nYet, the person with the username, \"BigBlackPencil\", was the first to bring up a tall, almost eight-foot tall figure completely covered in a dark shroud like the pure emptiness of space. BigBlackPencil saw the thing standing in the middle of his lawn one morning, staring in his general direction. It wore a top hat, similar to the one Abraham Lincoln had; a single trench coat that trailed behind him like a shadow; and his face was completely invisible. Whether his face was covered by the night or he did not have one at all, he did not know. Then, after he had stared at it for a minute or so a scream pierced the air. BigBlackPencil did not know until his parents came rushing in, that he was the one who was screaming. \n\nSupposedly, this man suffers from depression and constant paranoia. \n\nI thought he was just making stuff up. \n\nBut then, other people started giving the same description, but in different places. One person saw the thing on their roof, another saw them in the middle of an open field. All people said it was always silent. That they found themselves losing control. One person screamed while another wept, yet one person by the username of HarryPotterFan890 said that he saw the beast while with his brother. He began to cry as his brother simply came outside and walked into the open field to embrace it. \n\nHis brother's corpse was found three days later with a big, gaping smile on his face. The rest of his body was completely disjointed or missing. \n\nOf course, these people were just faking it right? Maybe these guys were just too bored to do anything that was actually productive, instead deciding to scare as many people as possible. \n\nYet, I remember this man.\n\nI was thirteen years old and my eight-year-old sister, Wanda, was hanging around outside. Suddenly, she began screaming. I looked outside to see the figure standing in the middle of our driveway, pointing at her. I did not think, I only reacted. I grabbed a knife from the kitchen and ran outside. Wanda had begun to walk toward the thing while I ran toward it. It did not seem to notice me until I thrust my knife into its chest only to hear a sucking sound as it did so. I looked up at its face to see only a completely smooth head looking down at me. It had no eyes, nose or mouth, or at least, I did not believe it did. It grabbed my arm for a second as a sound filled the air. \n\nIt was dissatisfied. \"Not beautiful enough\" filled my head in a voice I did not recognize. \n\nI was thrown onto the ground. My sister had already run inside and began to call the police. I guess I had interrupted its control over her. However, now, I lay on the ground beneath something that was neither a human nor an animal. \n\nMy sister never stopped believing, but she still moved on. I have convinced myself we simply saw something our minds could not process properly so we filled it in with a blank slate. \n\nYet, that night, I walked to my son's room and sat there for as long as I could bear. The truth was that I was scared. \n\nI still am. "
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[WP]You have extremely powerful photographic memory, and you've been working for the NSA for ten years now. Meeting new people gets pretty awkward when you know the entirety of their search history by heart...
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"\"Hi there what can I get you?\"\n\n*Clarence Everdeen, Eighteen, current Barbie Doll forum administrator.*\n\n\"Excuse me, sir?\"\n\n\"Oh, I ah- yes, umm... One number 12 large please and a diet coke thanks.\"\n\n*A diet coke. A shipping pallet of Diet Coke goes for five hundred dollars. Clarence would know, his frequent shipments of the stuff would leave any dentist in shock.*\n\n*My entertainment for this afternoon is my newfound chase for romance. Mixing a family and years of restricted information never worked out.*\n\n\n You've been matched. \n\n*A success.* \n\n*Kelly Baldwin. Blonde, Thirty Two. Garnier Bright Copper Shade, naturally a Blonde, ashamed of her stereotype.* \n\n*Cheated on her last man David Patterson; who would've thought that a Janitor could woo-over an HR Management Team Leader.*\n\n*I take a bite of my burger*\n\n Declined.\n\n*I never liked those who hide things.*\n\n\n"
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[WP] A shady, illegitimate underworld organisation is taking place right under our very noses. So far we know only their code word for each other, so commonly used it took years to find... "Bro"
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"\"'Sup.\"\n\n\"How's it hangin', Bro.\" The dealer remains half hidden in shadow, sitting on a wooden crate at the end of an abandoned alleyway.\n\n\"All good, man, all good.\" Moonlight glinting off of his lapel, the suit makes a visible attempt at casual speech.\n\n\"Bro, sure you doin' alright?\" Something shifts in the dealer's shadow.\n\n\"Yeah, dude, but I need me some of that weed. Heard you got some?\" Sweatdrops now gleaning on his forehead.\n\nAs he extends his hand filled with crisp wads of bills, his arm is abruptly and cleanly dismembered at the elbow. He barely has an instant to register that fact before his neck undergoes a similar fate.\n\n---\n\n2016 might very well be remembered as the year in which Leonardo DiCaprio finally took home an Oscar. Or perhaps the year that Trump became dictator-in-chief, leading the populist world in an uprising against all variants of sanity. Or the year that carbon dioxide levels permanently and irreversibly rose above some arbitrary threshold of measurement, which some still contest means anything.\n\nLittle did we know that all of these events were intimately linked to the one event that would truly define 2016 in the history books: the discovery of the Brotherhood Revolutionary Organization, or BRO.\n\n---\n\n\"Latest n-gram analysis coming in from the analysis team!\" the analyst called out from behind his thick-rimmed glasses, clutching what appeared to be a 20-page report.\n\n\"Give me the short of it.\" I grimaced. With only a single, commonly used code word to go on, the UN Secret Investigative Bureau (SIB) relied ever more on crunching mind-bogglingly large (and, of course, illegal) datasets consisting of wire-tapped conversations and chatroom scraping.\n\n\"Well, according to our calculations, based on wire-tapped sources and other personal communications, we've established an approximately 97.3% probability that Donald J. Trump is a Bro, you see, controlling for most of our other factors including age, education, geographic influence, speech predilection, among others, and we've also used, you know, state-of-the-art recurrent neural networks to study his language modeling capabilities to find that --\"\n\n\"I said the 'short' of it, or you can get back to analyzing insurance payments or something like you used to.\"\n\n\"...Well, hmm...\" The analyst's eyebrows dug into his glasses. \"Okay, then, let's just say that Trump is probably a Bro, yeah? Given our analysis of his correspondence with Putin, chances are high that Putin is also a Bro. Oh, and Leonardo DiCaprio, too.\"\n\nI nodded along before coming up short. \"Wait, who? What does Leonardo DiCaprio have to do with anything?\"\n\n\"Well, nothing really, besides that our model sort of thinks he probably joined BRO this year, and also won his first Oscar this year. Isn't that interesting?\" The analyst's broad smile was the only distinguishing feature on his face, his eyes completely shrouded behind the lenses.\n\n\"Sounds more like a conspiracy theory to me. Dig more into your real work and don't give me this USA Today crap! If we can get conclusive evidence on Trump, we can do something about him. Putin might be harder.\"\n\n\"Got it, ma'am,\" the analyst gave a faux salute as he scrambled the report back together. He paused. \"Oh, by the way, we've sort of started constructing a comprehensive visualization of the BRO network, and we're, you know, having our models construct BRO links between organizations and important people. Do you want to see it?\"\n\n\"You tell me this now!? You thought DiCaprio was more important than this? Seriously?\" I often struggled to constrain myself at a growing lack of common sense among the analysis team, but this took the cake. \"This could mean the end of Western civilization as we know it. How can you be so glib about all this?\"\n\nWe walked swiftly to the analysis desk, really more an auditorium full of desks than a 'desk' in particular. As we walked in, I gasped at the massive 3-D hologram being projected above the center of the auditorium. \"Really feels like we're in the future looking for Luke Skywalker or something,\" I nearly blurted out before clamping my mouth shut. I'd had enough incompetency reports for a lifetime.\n\nWalking closer to the holographic network, the analyst pointed to a glowing pink node, isolated in the center, distinguished from the rest of the blue nodes and links. \"That's SIB,\" he said, still grinning. Pointing out some of the growing links, he began gleefully listing all of the connections that the model was predicting, the links slowly moving into place.\n\n\"You see, here, that's Boris Johnson, you know, from Brexit and all. And there's Trump over there, entangled in all those links, see that? So this is, like, sort of linking Johnson and Trump in the BRO network, and the link says above it how they're linked, let's see here...\" He paused as the link melded into place and the label formed above. \"Oh, ha! They apparently have been seen going to the same barber or something, would you look at that?\"\n\nBefore I could respond to either his nonchalance about the potentially scandalous nature of that link or its genuine hilarity, a thousand whirring sounds reverberated through the room as the formation of links visibly accelerated. \"Oh, don't worry about that,\" he said, noticing my alarm. \"That's just the supercomputers getting revved up.\"\n\nWhat was alarming, though, was how quickly the links had started to form. In a matter of seconds, nearly all of the major male political figures and governing organizations had been intricately joined together; as we watched, the pieces linked up like an elaborate, beautiful, terrifying spiderweb. We could only hold our breath as the last link found its way towards the final node, dyed in pink, reading \"analysis desk\".\n\nHis broad smile was the last thing any of us saw.\n\n---\n\n\"Simple marijuana addiction is enough to kill the Prime Minister of Canada,\" the dealer mused, chuckling, his disaffected speech completely gone. \"And he couldn't even bring himself to say it, was it too low for him? The closest he got was 'dude'.\"\n\n\"Lucky for us, anyway. His 'all good, man' brought him pretty close,\" the assassins replied, cleaning up the remains.\n\nAs they finished up their work, the dealer's earpiece buzzed and gave him the good news. \"SIB's has been neutralized,\" the analyst reported. \"Heading out to Trump Tower for the rendezvouz with Vladimir.\"\n\nThe dealer smiled for the first time. \"And with that, the Western world is ours. Bros, a toast!\""
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[WP] It's been long well-known in society that magicians are just illusionists, without magical power. However, the least popular of them all is actually the one that actually defies the very foundation of laws and physics, A True Magician.
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"It was one of those days. I could tell. He usually waited till much later before beginning his daily rant but, not today. Today the barrage started early. \"Do you know what you could accomplish?\" he asked. \"Everything you mortal imbicile.\"\n\n\nI ignored him.\n\n\n\"Others recognized this gift. And yes, that's what I am, A gift.\" He stood in front of me now, but I closed my eyes and continued along the path in silence. \"And here I am, wasting away, watching you squander the opportunity before you.\"\n\n\n\"Why didn't you come with a fucking lamp or something?\" I asked.\n\n\nHe took offense to that, he always does, swelling to twice his normal size. \"You wretched human filth. I have been forged from the fury of a thousand suns. Kings have risen from the tatters of their garments because of me and what do have you me do?\" With a crack he was gone, vanishing into nothingness leaving scarlet smoke-like particles where he stood. I walked right through it. \n\n\n\"Party tricks...\" he called out from the ether. This was his favorite thing to do, the old *voice-from-beyond* trick. \"Had it not been for your father...\"\n\n\n\"I told you not to talk to me in public.\" I said without noticing the old man walking his Pomeranian. He turned in my direction, his caterpillar brows scrunched together in confusion. My goodness, his unibrow game was strong.\n\n\n\"Sorry, Nick,\" he said, \"I don't think I said anything just now.\"\n\n\n\"Oh,\" I said scratching my freshly shaved scalp. \"No, Mr. Baker. I was just practicing my lines for my new routine...got a party coming up, you know. Suzy Wilcott's birthday.\" I smiled the most authentic smile could muster. George Baker reciprocated.\n\n\"Oh, that's wonderful\" he said before continuing along his path before pausing again. His furball dog found a tree stump to unload his bowels on. \n\n\n\"I could let you go if I wished. You understand this, don't you?\" I said when the old man was out of earshot. This time, Agni remained silent. \n\n\n\"What would the Jinn lords say to that when they found out you've failed to serve?\"\n\n\n****\n\n\"And for my next trick,\" I said, before pausing...The group of wide-eyed boys and girls stared back at me, both their eyes and mouth opened wide. \"The great Alahambra will need a volunteer.\"\n\n\nEvery hand shot up. Their parents smiled in the background.\n\n\n\"Oh so many of you...my goodness.\" I turned to the puppet resting atop the stool next to me. \"What do you say, Agni. Who do you think we should pick?\"\n\n\nI reached over to the glass of water on the picnic table beside me and raised it to my lips. No sooner did I taste the water, the puppet spoke in the goofy voice all the children adored. \"Well, why don't we take all of them?\"\n\n\n\"Hmm...\" I said after finishing my drink. \"I don't know...\"\n\n\nIn unison, the children cried out. \"PLEASE! Please yes!\"\n\n\n\"It'll take all my strength for so many of you...but only because it's Suzy's birthday...The great Alahambra agrees!\"\n\n\nCheers erupted from the crowd, followed by muffled chuckles from the parents.\n\n\n\"Now children,\" I asked, \"I need all of you to close your eyes tightly until I tell you to open them. Have you ever seen the Great Pyramids of Giza?\""
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[WP] Your whole life has been a dream, you wake up for the first time. You are a Potato.
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"After the initial shock wore off I attempted a full body thrust away from a nearby pot of boiling water. Man or vegetable, I decided that I would not want to be submerged in anything warmer than a lukewarm bath. My efforts did lead to a successful roll away from the pot, but also a few inches closer to the glimmering surface of a nearby steak knife, plunged deep into a chopping board. Looking into the knife's surface, I was able to confirm my worst fears.\n\nI was a potato.\n\nDisgustingly I realised I had already been peeled, my starchy goodness free to the world. Trying to cover myself was a fruitless attempt which drained what little energy I had, so instead I reflected upon my new found position in the world. Looking up I recalled how I took for granted my years as a somewhat well off accountant. However initial fondness for cats fed and dogs pet soon fell away to repressed, sadder memories.\n\nNervous stuttering at the supermarket checkouts, shying away from loud office parties, a constant inability to progress through a 10 year long dead end job. Staring at the white ceiling I recalled the same ceiling I stared at as a child, tucked away in bed where I'd idly think of dreams of being an astronaut, a movie star, anything of any significance. \n\nMy God, I hadn't woke up from a dream, but instead a horrific nightmare! A life drained of any ambition. A life wasted.\n\nAnd yet I had a second chance.\n\nWith the full conviction I could muster in my raw yellow form, I attempted a manoeuvre back towards the boiling water. I recalled the moment when I turned down a chance to travel the world because I feared for my own comfort, and used it to spur me on towards the edge of the pot. I remembered the time when I didn't go to see the Star Wars premier because I was just too tired, and used it to push myself *vertically* up to the edge of the bubbling water. Lastly, I relived my past life, the dull one, the one filled to the brim with nothing. With this new life I will be the best that I can be. With that thought I plunged tip first into the froth."
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[WP] You wake up one day to find that you are not yourself anymore. You are a famous person.
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"I fell asleep gazing at the New York City skyline, the view being the only admirable amenity in my 200 sq ft jail cell of a studio apartment. So many lights on in Manhattan at this hour. Who can afford to be up at this hour in Manhattan, let alone afford to live there? They must be celebrities or geniuses. And I'm just laying here because I have to wake up in 3 hours at 6am because my commute is 1.5 hours door-to-door on a good day. I wonder what it's like to be filthy rich and famous, not have to get up at 6am every day to some dead-end job, but instead bask blissfully at the finishline of life, having achieved all of their goals and desires, serene, to die with smiles on their faces. I was too tired to smile at the thought otherwise I would've, and then I fell asleep.\n\n\nI had a strange dream. I don't remember any details but it was one of those long exhausting dreams. I woke up and all I saw was white. My eyes burned and my head was in pain. I was in a different room! There were empty glass bottles of different sizes on the nightstand next to me. The room looked so absurdly modern, so much fancy architecture. Have I been in a coma for 25 years and awoke in some futuristic hospital? \n\n\nA loud motorboat propeller noise came from under the sheet and a sour fish-like odor stung my nostrils. I lifted the satin sheets and a naked woman was asleep next to me! Am I in her home? I saw a large window spanning the wall of the entire bedroom, leaped out of bed and looked out it. It overlooked Central Park! In the same view of the window, I caught a subtle outline of a face staring back at me, my reflection in the mirror. But it was not my face! I looked like that guy from U2 but slightly worse, without stage makeup perhaps.\n\n\n\"What the fook! 'Fook?' Why do I a have a fookin Irish accent?!\" I blurted out loud.\n\n\n\"What are you on about now, dear?\" the sleeping woman murmured.\n\n\n\"Who the fook are you?!\" I said. I ran into what looked like a bathroom. I am Bono from U2! This is unbelievable! It must be a dream. I pinched myself. Nothing happened. I pinched myself harder, \"fook!\" I shouted. It's a lucid dream, it must be. That means I'm in a dream, I can do anything, I can fly if I want to! I imagined myself flying through the window, breaking it and soaring over Central Park, but nothing happened, I was just standing in my underwear. It must be one of those lucid dreams where I'm powerless, reflecting how I feel powerless in my real life. I'll just jump right off the balcony and fly then!\n\n\nI opened the sliding door, let out a howling song note in the most beautiful singing voice, aged like a fine wine, it's a beautiful day! I lept off the balcony to fly over Central Park. I was approaching the ground faster and faster from my penthouse apartment, planning to pull up really fast in a dramatic fashion. But it wasn't working. I kept falling faster and faster. Oh no. I'm gonna die. I felt my head smash the pavement.\n\n\nNext thing I know, I wake up, back in my bed Queens overlooking Manhattan, back in my real body. It must've been a dream. It's 11am and I'm late for work, I'll surely get fired! I got ready as fast as I could and got on the train.\n\n\nWhen I got to the office I had a prepared apology for my manager. But no one was working. Everyone was crowded around my colleague's computer. All the Gen-Yers in the office were crying.\n\n\n\"Bono died today. Suicide. Jumped off his balcony. I guess even rich and famous people can be unhappy nutjobs.\" A fellow drone-like cubicle worker said. \n\n\nOh my god.",
"You see, I've always thought that being famous was marvelous: I'd go in wherever I want to, I'd buy whatever I want to, and everything whenever I want to. Pure and simple freedom. You know when your parents say \"be careful what you wish for\". Well, weren't they right?\n\nI don't know how or why it happened, I only know that one day I woke up as my favourite celebrity. At the time I thought it was like hitting the jackpot, but turns out the universe got tired of me running my mouth on how good it was to be famous. Well, either way, there I was: rich, powerful, and hot.\n\nThe first thing I did was my weird childhood wishes, like having a chocolate pool, buying a trampoline, that kind of stuff. I even got some press coverage, journalists swarmed my mansion, and - silly me - I received each and everyone of them. You see, paparazzi are like street cats; if you feed them once they will never go away from your front porch. At the time I didn't care, all that attention was nice, and they were all so nice.\n\nThen I wanted to feel important, so I started going to parties every night. I would wake up at 4pm, shoo away my most recent one night stand, take a shower, get dressed, and head out to the night. It was sex, drugs and rock and roll in its truest sense.\n\nFor the first month, nobody cared that I missed my rehearsals, I didn't have any show scheduled anyway.\n\nCame the second month. My producers couldn't ignore my wild rampage anymore. Shows were drawing near, and there was so much money to cover up drug scandals. I had to clean up my act, but it was not easy. There was pressure from every side, and those friendly paparazzi, well, not so friendly anymore. They were in every corner, looking through every window of my house, just waiting for my next relapse. One even got me drugs himself, \"that's just what everyone wants to see\" he said. \"Give them the freakshow they want\".\n\nIt was suffering, I was really trying to get my life straight, I had no hopes of returning to my original body. This only came later on, after I completely broke.\n\nRelapses were frequent, and the stress was so much that I would forget basic things, once I even forgot my panties, and the whole world knew it, thanks to a paparazza that always greeted my politely. Not that it mattered much at that point, I couldn't even take a shower without someone taking a picture of me.\n\nMissed reharsals, relapses, stalking, hate mail. I was breaking inside, and when it happened I went back to my body. The last thing I remember was shouting at the camera in a mix of self pity and pity towards the celebrity whose body I had hijacked:\n\n**\"Leave Britney alone!\"**"
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[WP] At 16 you entered your story about a time traveler into a short story contest, you're now 42 being interrogated by the CIA for reasons currently unknown.
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"The door creaked open as a man in black and white suit sat down opposite the table in front of me. Opening his briefcase revealed some pictures in a file of a man in his early 40s.\n\n\"Have you ever seen this man?\" He asked me\n\n\"No I haven't\" I stammered back.\n\nThey had requested I come with them in the dead of night. 2 agents at my house, at 4 am. All for some stupid story about a time traveler I wrote back in high school. \n\nThe questions became endless and mundane. Who did I share this story with? Where did I get this inspiration from? Where was I the night of the short story?\n\n\"Listen, I already answered your questions, will you please let me go now?\"\n\"Not until we have the answers we need\"\n\"I know my rights, unless your placing me under arrest, I'd like to leave\"\nAt this he just stood there and stared at me blankly. Inhaling sharply, he asked me \"Do you know who you are?\"\n\nWhat kind of question was this? \"Of course I know who I am\"\nHis eyes inspected mine, almost as if to determine whether I was lying or not. At that moment I felt a strange feeling of deja vu, and the door was burst open.\n\nBLAM! BLAM! 2 shots square into the chest of the agent. I flew back, horrified, staring at the man who just shot at CIA officer. But that man... this man was me. He grabbed me by the hand and then the world faded out, only to surge back, this time in a dark run down room.\n\n\"I know your scared. Don't be scared, I'm you! But I'm the you from the past, or erm the future really.\" He seemed very nervous \"Listen, when you or.. when we were 16, we joined a force in the CIA that deals with temporal criminals. We had to be young in order to better grift into differe-\"\n\n\"Different cultures, I know. That's the plot from my short story! Why are you telling me this? What is going on?\"\n\n\"No you don't understand. I lived that life. I lived as that temporal agent, but I'm the only one left. Everyone else is dead, and I was being hunted. I thought that if I could go back in time and stop you from joining the program, then I could save our lives...\"\n\nI looked blankly at my younger self.\n\n\"You wrote that story because when a replicate future self dies, their short term memories come back to you\"\n\nThat night began to make more sense. It wasn't just a story, I realized. The idea that came into my head that night had so much emotion, so much complexity.\n\"But wait you're not dead\" I pointed out. \n\nThen it hit me. In my story, the time traveler defeats the enemy. The man in front of me didn't...\n\nThe door opened. My future self drew his gun\n\n________________________________________________________________\n\n\"The winner of this year's short film award goes to Eric Holt! For his short title \"The Temporal Agent\" The announcer beamed\n\nOverjoyed, I walked unto this stage and took the award. Holding it above my head for everyone to see, I notice 2 men in black and white suits standing in the background."
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[WP] A brave dragon has to save the dragon princess from the humans.
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"Haragor scuttled along the wall and squeezed through a crack in the door to the guard room. It wasn't supposed to be how a dragon attacked a castle. No, a Dragon was supposed to fly down from the clouds, with a roar and flash of fire, the Avatar of Armageddon for the witless humans. \nThen again, most dragons were a bit bigger than six inches. \n \nHaragor skirted around the room, the torchlight reflecting dully from his scales. She wasn't here; only some dumb guards in poorly kept chainmail. He crinkled his nose in disgust at the stench of iron-rot. How could they stand it? He sniffed again. Ahh. They could only smell the fermented barley in their cups. \n\"Wass *hic* goin' on downstairs, then?\" Slurred the one, swaying in a non-existent breeze. \n\"Whatshisface, you know\" the other waved a nonsensical charade with one hand \"the twit knight the Lord sent to kill a dragon.\" \n\"Oh. Did he die then?\" Haragor supressed a snort. Obviously some humans were as stupid as the stories said. \n\"Nah. Caught a littl'un. He's presenting it to the Lord. Y'know, before killing it.\" Haragor stiffened at that piece of knowledge. *Kill* her? What sort of monsters... \n\"Hang about, 'bout to spring a leak here.\" The second guard opened the door to the battlements and faced out to 'fill the moat'. Luckily he had his trousers down as Haragor shot past, a blur of scale and wing; otherwise all that training his mother had done long ago would have been for naught. \n \nHaragor sped through the air to the Great Hall inside the castle. Hitting the stone work, he scrambled up to a slit of an open window, five small puffs of flame flickering from his mouth. Sneaking inside, he found himself behind a tapestry, set to stop the draughts but also allowing small dragons to creep around unseen. \nPositioning himself at the rear of the hall, Haragor looked out. Below him sat the Lord in court, his throne flanked by two smaller chairs, although only one was occupied. On the other sat a small tiara and a rose. \nIn front of the Lord stood a knight. Haragor supposed he was handsome by human standards, although his look was marred by singed patches in his beard and small, deep scars across his face. Hah! That's what you get for kidnapping a dragon princess. But where was she? \nA glint, and he spotted a small cage in front of the knight. In it sat the Princess Gwen, as regal as in her own court, despite the chains attaching her to the base of the cage. Haragor slowly crawled down the tapestry as the farce below began. \n \n\"My Lord!\" Called the knight. \"My Lord, you sent me to kill a dragon. I have done one better: I have captured one!\" \n\"A Rather small one, don't you think?\" Murmured the Lord with a chuckle. \"Barely more than a lizard with wings.\" The knight frowned and stepped forward. \n\"My Lord, do not be fooled by its size. It is both part of their royalty and...\" the knight quickly dodged a gout of flame from the cage \"very feisty. I have done as promised, and proven my courage. Will you uphold your end, my Lord? Can I marry your daughter?\" \nThe occupant of the chair next to the Lord flung itself into the knight's arms. Haragor presumed this was the daughter. \n\"Oh father! Let me marry him! He has proven his worth.\" The Lord rubbed his chin and flicked a glance at the rose on the chair next to him. \n\"I...\"The Lord stiffened as Haragor leapt onto his shoulder. A blast of flame removed the Lord's eyebrows. \n\"*You should think very carefully on your next words. Otherwise they may be your last.*\" Growled Haragor. \"I can fry your brain with a sneeze. Now *release the princess*\". \nA rustle, and Haragor looked towards the young couple. Although the knight had frozen, hand on his blade, the daughter had stepped forward, a smirk playing on her lips. \n\"Or what, little dragon? What will you do then?\" She slowly advanced, and Haragor realised why. If he didn't kill the Lord, he had failed. If he did... why, she would become the Lady of the Castle that little bit sooner. And she didn't care which. \nThe catch of breath by the Lord showed he had also caught on. Haragor wondered what he would do. \n\"Sir Knight\" the Lord's voice squeaked as his daughter advanced as a cat upon a mouse. \"Sir Knight, relea...\" \nA roar echoed through the hall, like the earth had split and hell had come to claim its own, and a great jet of flame smashed through the large glassed window above the door. The door burst open, a guardsman screaming. \n\"Dragon!\" \n \nHaragor leapt from the Lord's shoulder as panic gripped the room. Taking care to set fire to the daughter's skirts as he passed, he ran to the princess. Her captor had already run towards the danger, as humans had a tendency to do. How they survived was anyones guess. \n\"Princess Gwen, I'm here to rescue you.\" She raised an eyebrow as he started to pick the lock with his claw. \n\"Really, Haragor? And who's rescuing you?\" Her head twitched towards door as flame rippled across the courtyard. \n\"That's not a rescue, Princess,\" *click* and the door swung open \"that's a planned distraction. Otherwise known as your Great-uncle Mathuser.\" Haragor stared at the chains binding the Princess's limbs. \n\"Uncle Matty? But he's a pacifist.\" The princess shrugged, and the chains fell away, the locks already picked. Haragor snorted. She'd always been a quick study. \n\"Pacifist, yes, but that doesn't mean he can't have fun now and again. Come along.\" \nLeaving the cage, the pair of dragons flung themselves into the air. They shot through the Great Hall's door and flung themselves into the night, startling drunk guardsmen on the battlements who fell into the moat. With a final roar, the distracting dragon left the castle and joined the pair, leaving behind a few singed guards, one Lady with burned knees, and a now-suspicious Lord. The princess had been saved."
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[WP] You find yourself in a fantasy world, and the only way to return home is to become the most successful cabbage salesman, in the world.
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"Can you guess what I did before I came to this world?\n\nThat's a trick question, there's your one big hint.\n\nStill nothing? Really now, no guesses at all? Well fine. I'll just tell you. The answer is: *\"Not slaying monsters.\"* \n\nYes. Almost unimaginable, isn't it? You see, in my world there were no monsters. No magic, no Dark Wizards, or Dragons in the sky. I come from a peaceful place.\n\nCan't be fathomed, can it? I thought not.\n\nSo it is, though, that the details of how I made my living are almost completely irrelevant. All the travelling, odd-jobs, seasonal work and otherworldly experience might as well be useless. No one in a fantasy world needs a guy with barely passable physical fitness and non-existent magical capacity. Especially not one who has a resume mostly related to work-orders, invoices, and excel spreadsheets. Taken out of my familiar life and thrown ass-over-teakettle into this one has left me useless.\n\nDid I mention I still have no idea how the written language works? Over a year I've been here, and I still can barely understand the shop-symbols of the inner city.\n\nYeah. Listen here, it was a rough start. All the way over... There. The Magician's academy. My first memories are of that place. The fancy one, with the deep blue stone towers, and the glass windows.\n\nThere was Mage's circle, something to do with summoning and teleportation magic. I imagine that's what brought me in here. A large group of old and wise looking bearded men, eyeing me like a scientist might eye a strange bug on a glass slide. They threw my ass out onto the streets by the day's end, abandoning me to my fate. A cruel awakening, in a hostile world.\n\nStill, I persevered. No money, no connections, a noted accent and the clothing of a foreigner: I had only the contents of my pockets to make it through that first terrible week. \n\nAh, that look. \"*Not so difficult*\" it says. I know that face well, and for you it may have been so. But for the likes of me... well, ignorance is not always bliss.\n\nEvery stranger here I passed was unfamiliar as the most odd and foreign person imagined. Young, old, rich, poor: Many carried weapons, of swords and staffs. They wore robes or leather, plated armor. Their skin and faces sometimes held deep scars and serious stares. Looks that dug deep into whatever they faced, serious considerations of violence on the edge of their every terse word.\n\nIn my world, a person with a weapon openly in the streets would be looked as like a mad-man. A person with weapons dressed up in armor? That's the kind of lunatic the authorities would come and take away.\n\nBut suddenly, I was the lunatic! My only weapon was a folding pocket-knife, and a dull one at that. My armor was made out of thin cotton, and the only leather I possessed was on my belt- and very possibly fake. I soon came to find that if I so much as left the city gate, I could be killed by the weakest of monsters which lurk along the fields and roadways.\n\nIt was an adjustment, to be sure.\n\nIf not for the Holy Church's charity for unfortunate souls, little more than a soup kitchen, I'd have surely starved to death. If not for their kindly extended hands, I'd likely have been gutted on a street-corner by cut-throats. I might have been captured by ruffians, and sold to labor or slavery.\n\nHow quickly I might have met my end, if I had not stumbled upon the way. My life's true purpose.\n\nNow I collect and sell cabbages.\n\nHold that wry smile of pity. I see it, I acknowledge it, but I think you fail to understand: I can not hope to slay monsters. There is no hidden strength within my flesh and blood. I've paid the full silver-piece to confirm the hidden truth of my constitution, and learned I will never hope to cast magic either. As a warrior I can not succeed.\n\nEven as I attempt to read the language, struggling with the slightest of sentences and scripts: I know it may be years before I can take a book off the shelf and understand its words.\n\nBut Cabbages... Cabbages care little for words.\n\nCabbages do not attack, maim, or slaughter those who handle them.\n\nCabbages can be picked by hand under the watchful eye and protection of the soldiers and adventurers, in exchange for the services of carrying their luggage and equipment.\n\nCabbages can be boiled, mashed, even put in a stew.\n\nCabbages are life.\n\nFor the simple price of a single copper piece, you may have one- or you may buy a dozen for the discount of ten. You see, ten sets of ten copper is one silver. One-hundred silver portions is one gold coin, and for one-hundred gold, a person might purchase permanent membership to the Mage's Academy. A privilege that can be granted even to one entirely ungifted in the magical arts.\n\nYou see, after one million and two-hundred thousand cabbages, I might find hope to return home once more.\n\nAh, your face has softened. Perhaps now you understand? The beauty that is the cabbage, the wonder that is the cabbage. A vegetable that should possess both halo and angelic wings to a chorus of holy voices. You see it now, see it as I do- perhaps only for this fleeting moment of comprehension.\n\nI thank you for your purchase, and I welcome your return.\n\n...\n\nMy Cabbages.\n\n----\n\n*Edit: If you like what you read, I drop most of my work over at r/jakethesnakebakecake*"
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[WP] You are Stan, a completely normal guy. People keep sending messages meant for both Santa and Satan to you. You aren't quite sure what to do.
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"I've never had great luck at the post office. Maybe it's because my handwriting isn't the best, maybe it's because I don't live in a nice part of town, maybe it's just bad luck. I don't know. It was bad enough when I sent my favorite musician some fan-mail and never got anything back. And now, since Thanksgiving, I've gotten hundreds of letters a day from these little fucking kids who want me to give them presents. I write back that I'm piss-poor and use all of my extra money that I don't use paying rent or buying food or supporting my girlfriend and kid for buying posters and going to concerts.\n\nIt's brought up another fight with my girlfriend. She seems to think that I don't want to be with her anymore, and that I'm spending too much time focused on music and rapping already, and now I have to sift through hundreds of letters a day? I'd agree with her that I should just throw them out, but I have to check if I've gotten a response. Three months and still no word, but I can keep hoping, right? He's my kid's idol, I think.\n\nChristmas passed, and the letters to Santa stopped coming in. But for some reason, now I'd started getting messages addressed to \"Satan.\" Fuck that, I'm not the Devil, and these religious lunatics who think that the best way to contact him by sending a letter to a shitty part of Detroit don't deserve my time. But I still have to check the addresses, keep checking the addresses...\n\n*Some months later*\n\nI've had it. These fucking religious weirdos and these little shits that want presents can all go fuck themselves. I'm finished. My girlfriend has had it too, but she doesn't even know it. She's knocked the fuck out in the kitchen. Serves her right for calling me obsessed so many times. It's raining, but I'm going for a drive. She's coming with whether she likes it or not. The trunk of my car should be good, but... what if she wakes up? Hmm... I guess I can tie her up and she won't struggle back there. Yeah, that'll do it. Call me Satan, huh? Well, here's you chance to be right, fuckos. You've driven me to this. Sending me letters and calling me Satan instead of being Slim sending something to Stan. Well, gotta go before she wakes up. I'll throw some letters to Satan around the house. He'll know I'm coming for him.",
"\"Here's $100 for lugging all of that around all year,\" I begrudgingly said to the mailman. He seemed surprised by the extra tip, but he literally carries over two-hundred pounds of mail in for me every week. \n\nAt this point, I'm more surprised that some company like Walmart hasn't convinced parents to have their kids pay for some email service that lets them talk to Santa without sending paper letters. That would make so much money, right?\n\nWell, one thing you wouldn't expect is that kids send letters to Santa all year round. Maybe it's because they think that if they get their letter to Santa months before Christmas they'll have a better chance of getting the gift they want. Another thing you might know is that the most common zip code for letters sent to Santa is 12345, which contrary to popular belief is not the North Pole, but instead it's a small block in New York City with two buildings. One of them is the General Electric headquarters and the other is a small, five story apartment building that I happened to live in. \n\nMaybe it's because of the lack of letters getting sent around these days, but a couple years ago when I moved to New York, some postal worker found me in some directory and must have made the connection that letters addressed to Santa Claus at the North Pole should actually go to me: Stan Anthony Claus, or Stan A. Claus. \n\nAt first I was kind of frustrated by it. I would come home from work and see two of those mail crates full of envelopes of all colors and sizes addressed the same way:\n\nSanta Claus\nNorth Pole\n12345, USA\n\nThe first time I got home to my door blocked by the crates, I looked inside and noticed these were all not my mail and attempted to carry one of the crates from my third story walk up down to the post office five blocks downtown. \n\nWhen I arrived, the lady at the desk told me she couldn't do anything because the US Postal Service has a secret policy that once letters to Santa or the Tooth Fairy and the likes are delivered, the post office doesn't take returns and refuses to resend. My only course of action was to carry the twenty pound crate out of the post office, back five blocks uptown and trudge them back up the three flights of stairs and move them away from my door so I could get in my 300 square foot studio apartment and drink my routine, after-work beer. \n\nI figured the best course of action would be to put both crates on my skateboard and move them to the recycling chute on the floor. I thought this was a one time occurrence and the next day I wouldn't get any more Santa mail, maybe one or two straggling letters. But the next day, I trudged up the three flights of stairs back to my apartment to see another two crates with more letters inside. \n\nFor the next five days, I would follow the same after-work routine. Get off the train, walk the five blocks back to my apartment, trudge up the five flights of stairs, lug the crates to recycling and return with the empty crates just to forget about it until the next day and repeat the cycle so I could sit down and sip my beer. \n\nThe second week, I looked through some of the letters. Some of them were older kids wanting electronics and expensive toys that frustrated me to think about (I never got my Nintendo when I was a kid). Others were way more difficult to read because they were written by younger, more innocent children who wanted more simple things. The younger kids always made me laugh because the sentence structure was nearly illegible, but I could tell these kids were trying. \n\nI also noticed that some of the older kids had really poor handwriting. I assumed it had to do with handwriting not being taught well in schools anymore, but after extrapolating the wishes of these kids and researching the areas these letter came from, I noticed these kids were in extreme poverty. \n\nI decided to amuse myself with the letters a little bit. I pulled out ten letters written by young children or children that lived in poverty and I responded. I didn't buy them gifts or anything, but I would respond genuinely and play the character of Santa. It started with five letters a day and only went up. After a couple of months, local news stations all over the country reported instances of kids getting letters from Santa that were addressed with my return address. Even my parents were talking about it when I saw them over thanksgiving. \n\nTwo years after moving into that building, I get a call from my boss saying that he wants to move me to the Chicago branch of the company. I was initially conflicted, but after learning that I would be put in an upper management position and paid nearly two and a half times my current salary, I found that it was an offer I couldn't refuse. \n\nBy the end of the two years I lived in that apartment, I went from five letters a day to nearly 30. I was a news story for almost the entire time, and I witnessed little children from all over the country react to getting a response letter from Santa. \n\nBy the end of it, i almost started to feel like I really was Santa Claus. The whole idea of Santa Claus through all its incarnations is that he brings joy and wonderment to the world and that's what I was doing. I was engaged in the true spirit of Christmas and Santa Claus and became Secret Santa. \n\nWould I say I miss being Secret Santa? Of course. Seeing smiles on little children's faces always made my heart feel as full as Santa's giant belly (and the snacks some children would send as \"incentives\" for response letters would make my actual belly feel the same) but the part of my life has passed. It's time for someone new to take up the mantle of Secret Santa and make a child's day. ",
"Knock knock! A heavy hand was knocking against my door. This could only mean one thing. I rose from my comfy seat that only I could sit in. No, I don't mean that I am some sort of tool that won't let others sit in his seat, it's just that my sofa now had a worn down groove where my arse normally sits. I had never found another person who could fit comfortably in that groove. I answered the door, but to my dismay, it wasn't someone wanting to sell me something or ask me if I had found jesus, whom really should not be lost, what with GPS and all. At the door stood my friendly neighborhood mail carrier. \n\n\"Hey, I got a ton of mail for you Stan.\" The mail carrier is a woman named Courtney who looks like she would be more at ease playing roller derby than delivering mail. Her socks came to her knees and were colored in multi-colored stripes. Beyond that, Courtney always wears pigtails and for a woman of her size, it always makes me laugh. If we were in a movie together she would be the Arnold Schwartzeneggar to my Danny Devito. \n\nI wait for her to return to the mail truck. When she returns to the door, my eyes widen to the size of silver dollars. Courtney manhandles two large cotton sacks of letters. \"For me?\" It was rare that I ever got more than one or two important letters and a handful of junk make. I guess that I missed what she had said because next thing I know, my normally friendly mail person punches my shoulder.\n\n\"Did you hear me? I have two more of those\". Without another word from her she bolts off to her truck once more. As I stand there waiting, I realize I hadn't even looked to see who had written all of these letters. Courtney appears once more with more letters. \"I will collect those bags tomorrow, Stan\" Her voice was that of laughter mixed with a hint of mischief.\n\nI stand there trying to find the words, but before anything intelligent could come out, she was gone. I push the bags into the room allowing myself to close the door. I sit on the floor untying the first of the four sacks of mail. Letters escape the bag like convicts fleeing prison. The first letter has in enbolded letters on it SANTA. I may be s short round man, but I'm not Santa Claus, so I sit it to one side. The next letter I pick up has writing, that I pray to god is red ink. Talk about cringeworthy. The addressee is none other than the keeper of hell himself, SATAN. Another letter placed into yet another pile. \n\nBy the time I make it to the bottom of the first bag, one thing is now very clear. Someone at the post office has not done their job. I sit staring two heaping piles of mail that was not meant for me. I tear into the second sack to find not only is none of the mail for me, but they belong to, yeah you guessed it. The third and fourth sacks contain much the same. There was one thing in the fourth sack for me. \n\nI realize there is only one thing to do. I rebag the mail, Santa letters fill three of the four bags and Satan letters fill the last one. You know, for a man as unliked as Satan, I wonder why all the fan mail. After all the mail was rebagged, I call the post office. \"Hello, my name is Stan and I live at 666 Noth Pohl Drive. Today one of your carriers, delivered mail to me, but to my dismay none of it is actually addressed to me. Would you be so kind as to pick it back up? I am sure whomever it belongs to would appreicate it\"\n\nThe voice on the other end replies to my request. \"It is the policy of the postal system to sort mail and deliver it to the addressee. You accepted it and that is as good as acknowledging that you are the rightly recipient of the mail. I am sorry that we can not be of more help\".\n\nI guess that means I am stuck with the mail for two persons that have name spelled sort of like mine. I don't know what to do with it. I could open it, but really, what good could come of it? Days pass like grains through an hourglass. No, not slowly, but like when you are playing a game and your friends have not been able to guess that you are humming the greatest song ever recorded and suddenly time's up. It's now the beginning of the Christmas season. I look to the bag of Dear Santa letters. What's the harm in reading just one or two, right? \n\nI open the sacks, this time with the intent to read them when suddenly I hear a knock on my door. Trembling I rise from my spot. I remember the last time someone unexpectanly knocked on my door. I walk slowly to the door, but the shadows coming through the curtained window were not even close to that of my mail carrier. I open the door slowly. Who but to my eyes did I see, but Santa and Satan both with a bag in their hand.\n\n\"Stan, seems the post office has been mixing up our mail\" Santa chuckles handing over a bag with maybe a dozen letters. Satan then extends his scorched, sulfuric scented hand. The bag where his hand had been was already decaying. \n\nI went to where the bags of mail sit. I give Satan's mail to him first and then Santa. \n\n\"Pay up, chump\" I hear Santa exclaim. \"I told you Stan was a good guy and would not read our mail\". Under his breath I hear Satan mutter. He pulled out a wad of money and tossed it to Santa. Before I could ask what that had been about, Satan vanished through a portal. Santa chuckled, touching the side of his nose before poof, he too was gone. \n\nI stand at the door wondering for a few minutes. Once I collect myself, I close the heavy wood door. I sat down to read the mail that had been lost in the mix-up. The majority of it was garbage, but one letter wasn't. It explains how both men had been delivered a piece of mail of mine and upon discovering that the other also had received mail for me, the men made a bet. Santa goes on to explain how Satan had answered the call from me at the post office with the hope that I would open the mail, winning him the bet. I sit back now and laugh. ",
"\"God damn it!! Not again!!\" I scream as I receive another text meant for Satan.\n\n\"No wonder you're Satan, you're damning God left and right.\"\n\nI was getting really tired from all these stupid texts, I was Stan, S-T-A-N, not Santa, not Satan. So then I decided, well, that's it, I'm gonna use this confusion to have a little bit of fun.\n\nAs regular old Stan, I sent messages to little kids and devout Christians as Satan and Santa, but being me, I managed to fuck it up.\n\n\"You're not getting any presents this year little kids!!\" Now, this wasn't really where I fucked up, the devout Christians still panicked since they wondered what they had done to deserve coal in their stocking, the next text was where it really went downhill..\n\n\"You're all going to hell!!!!!\" This is where things went shitty. Kids were crying and worried, asking their parents what hell was and who Satan was, and that's when Satan himself came by to see me.\n\n\"Well Stan, I have to say, I'm uh- I'm actually happy you're doing my job for me thanks!! You can take over, I'm taking a vacation until you die. Alright bye lmao\"\n\nWoah, the devil just thanked me, shit, and I'd be doing his job for the rest of my life. Then, flying in on a sleigh, came Santa Claus.\n\n\"Hoes, hoes, hoes. Stan you're a real hoe for telling people they won't get presents, but hey, that means less presents I have to deliver! Thank Stan! So keep up the good work I'm retiring, so tell everyone in the world that they're not getting presents, alright bye!!\"\n\nFuck, I'm now basically Satan and bad news Santa, how great. Oh well, Santa and Satan now are getting me texts as Stan, let's see how they're retirement/vacation goes.\"\n\nThe first text that Santa and Satan receive...\n\n\"STAN, YOU IDIOT, WHY HAVEN'T YOU ANSWERED MY CALLS OR MY TEXTS, I'M GOING TO USE LOCATION SERVICES ON YOUR PHONE TO TRACK YOU DOWN AND KICK YOUR ASS.\"\n\nWell, they can deal with my crazy ex-wife, I'll be terrorizing people and breaking bad news.\n\nThe end.\n\nAlright so this was my first WP post/comment, let me know what you think, I thought of it as I went, hopefully you guys like it!!\n",
"The doorbell to Stan’s house blared loudly through the early morning fog; its shrill scream tore Stan away from his comfortable haze of sleep. Stan let out a groan, his eyes still bleary from sleep, and crawled slowly out of bed. The shrill blare of the doorbell continued to squeal away as Stan tore himself away from his bed.\n\nStan stumbled towards the door, irritated. He had work off today, and had really been hoping to sleep in. The boring, average man let out a sigh; that was just his kind of luck. He lumbered over to the door, and opened it up. The bright light of the morning sun burst through the open doorway, shocking Stan’s still sleep weary eyes.\n\n“Hey Stan; got another round of mail for ya, big guy.” The mail man said, standing on Stan’s front porch.\n\n“Is it for Santa this time, or more of those cooky Satan letters.” Stan said with a sigh, accepting the massive bundle of letters from the mailman.\n\n“It’s looking like today is mostly Satan stuff. I spied a few Santa notes that must’ve gotten lost in the post and delivered late. Christmas was like four months ago.”\n\n“Yeah. Cool; real peachy.” Stan said absentmindedly, staring down at the mass of letters held in his hands. He shouldn’t be surprised; this had been going on for five years now.\n\nStan looked up at the mailman, his eyes filled with weariness. “You think there are any other Stans out there that get this kind of mail?” Stan asked.\n\nThe mailman though for a moment, staring at Stan. “Honestly big guy, probably not. I’ve never heard of it happening to anyone else before, and I just kind of get the sense just from looking at you that shitty things are kind of attracted to you.”\n\nStan nodded glumly. He couldn’t argue with that.\n\n“Well, that’s all I’ve got for you today.” The mailman said with a smile. “I’ll catch you around Stan.” He said, giving a short wave and heading back to his mail van.\n\nStan didn’t return the wave goodbye, but rather turned his back on the mailman and entered his home; the door slammed closed behind him. He dropped the bundle of letters off at a side table. They landed into a mound of similar letters, all bearing either the name Santa or Satan. Stan went over to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of scotch, and walked into his living room. He sat down on a chair, and it creaked under his weight.\n\nHe sat there for a moment, sipping on his drink and thinking. The room was still, save for the mechanical ticking of a clock. Stan sat there, thinking, drinking, ruminating, planning, the clock ticking away, going slowly insane. A nasty scowl, something deranged and perturbed, fell across Stan’s face.\n\nHe drained the rest of his drink, and stood up with renewed energy. Stan stalked over to a nearby closet, and flung the doors open. A red suit sat at the bottom of the closet, and red makeup was perched an a shelf. Stan let out a small laugh, and spoke quietly to himself.\n\n“Santa huh? Satan hey? Yeah, Stantana, yeah, yeah, I’ll give you all what you want.”\n\nIn a flurry of movement, Stantana ripped off his clothes, and flung on the cheap santa suit. Next he grabbed the makeup, and quickly applied a heavy layer of dark red to his face and the rest of his exposed skin. Stantana laughed as he applied the makeup, and soon had finished his transformation. He took a quick peek in a nearby mirror, and nodded at his grotesque sight. A big grin filled his face.\n\n“Yeah. Maybe now they’ll stop sending those damn letters.”\n\nStantana marched out the front door, a big grin on his face and a cackle leaving his lips.\n\nIn the news that evening, it was reported that a man dressed up as Satan dressing up as Santa was arrested on 5th avenue; he’d been arrested for dunk and disorderly conduct. The video of the arrest had gone viral, and soon the majority of the internet became obsessed with Stantana’s antics.\n\nAfter Stan was released from custody on bail, he returned home. The next day, a whole new pile of letters arrived at his door; they were all addressed to Stantana, and were from his newest internet fans. Stan could only help but laugh at these letters, his mind slowly breaking and coming further undone. Stan once again reached for his Stantana costume, a madness filling his eyes and a crazed cackle escaping his lips.\n\n----------------------------\n\nHope you enjoyed it! I've got a sub, r/ThadsMind, with more stories if you want to check that out and subscribe to it."
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[WP] You find irrefutable proof that your spouse faked their own death. You're just climbing out of the grief and depression. You decide to go find them.
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"\"So she's alive, you're sure.\" \n\"Yeah Aiden, she's alive. You were right, we excavated her grave. The DNA doesn't match the preliminary reports.\"\n\"Thanks for the call Rick, I figure you'll have to make some calls about this.\"\n\"Screw the calls Aiden, how are you feeling?\"\n\"Honestly Rick, I dunno. I'll let you know when I find a name for it.\" The was a pause on both ends, before a sigh let out by Rick bridged the gap.\n\"Aiden, i'm sor-\"\n\nI hang up, and toss the phone into the passenger seat. He shouldn't be the one apologizing, she should. I glance up at the photo pinned to my sun visor of us at the beach with our daughter. I take a long drag on my cigarette and pull the photo down, the oil on my hands smudging her face as I bat the smoke away to see it clearer. There I am, same dumb smile I had when I met her, next to Emily, the only woman i'd ever love. A year ago, we were just two clueless parents . A year ago we were all together, but now? I need answers. \n\nThe clicking of heels, across the floors of the parking garage broke the silence, their sounds echoing. I jolt back, and look up. There she is. Same red hair, same pale complexion. Even the way she walks. Rick just confirmed it to me. Emily is alive. \n\nShe climbs into a Toyota and starts it. She drives off. I count to three, while replacing the photo in it's position on the sun visor, facing the other way. I turn on my car, and roll down the windows as the stench of dirty laundry and cigarettes being to become too much and follow her.\n\nWhen the Captain had broken the news to me, I guess I didn't process it. I was on a case triple homicide at a bank robbery. Some thugs made off with a lot. Even when I got to the scene of the accident, it just didn't feel right. The patterns on the road didn't indicate any sort of automotive accident, glass was broken on the outside of the car, not the inside. It was only when I saw them pull her mangled body from the wreckage. I lost it. I saw the bus driver who had hit her and the next thing I knew I was on the ground. The other cops told me I had caved his skull in. I couldn't remember anything, I didn't care. They put me on what they called administrative leave. \n\nBut that was all for nothing. I continue to follow her, until she gets to a beach. She parks up and I follow her on foot. We both reach the shore and she faces me. \n\n\"So you knew I was following you,\nHer cold stare penetrates me as she says nothing \n\"No cheesy ominous lines? No explanations? No regret?\"\nShe purses her lips and looks away.\n\"She committed suicide, a week after she heard.\"\nEmily looks back at me.\n\"I found her. She wrapped her car around a tree. Our daughter killed herself because of you.\"\nEmily tears up, but says nothing. \n\"Does anything matter to you anymore?\"\n\nI feel a sharp prick on the right side of my neck. Ugh, i pull out a feathered dart. What the... My vision blurs and I fall over. The last time I see, is Emily walking towards me. "
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[WP] You can visit any fictional world from any book, movie, video game, etc of your choosing. The catch is that each time you visit a world, you have to stay in it for exactly one year before returning to the real world.
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"'So, you can go to any universe?' the alien asked in disbelief.\n\n'No, not really,' I said as I wiped the blood from my baton. 'There are rules - I need an object to focus on so I can go to that universe from my own. To the uninitiated, it'd be like traveling into a fictional universe like those seen in a book or a video game.'\n\n'So, that's how you know me?' Garrus asked. 'I'm a character in a video game?'\n\n'If it helps, you happen to be one of the most popular,' I said. 'And... not necessarily true. Remember what I said? Also, I can't leave here for a year. I'm given the items necessary to travel freely, like a backstory or passport, but I *have* to stay in this universe for a year so that heavily restricts where I go. I mean, sure - it's really cool to enter the story of an action movie but I *wouldn't* be the main character; I'd basically be a side character of the plot.'\n\n'And you beat the shit out of these mercs... why?' Garrus asked.\n\n'Because they were about to torture Sidonis,' I told him. 'See, I may not be able to influence the world too much since I'm not a \"Main character\"... but if you know just where to go and the right dates... Think of it like this - the \"Game\" has multiple choices, all of which affect the story line, open different main and side quests. Hell, since Shepard's the main character in some games and is customizable, I'm not sure what *gender* they are since I only just got here!'\n\n'So what would Sidonis have done under torture?' Garrus asked.\n\n'I don't know,' I said. 'It's never shown in the game, you just mentioned Sidonis betrayed you and-'\n\n'Shepard's dead,' Garrus interrupted. 'She died nearly two years ago.'\n\n'Oh, I'm early for that,' I said. 'I forgot... It isn't public knowledge that Cerberus is experimenting in resurrection.'\n\n'...Bullshit,' Garrus said.\n\n'I have a computer with the games in the series installed,' I said. 'The tutorial for the second game is Shepard recovering while the Cerberus base is under attack. You wanna play it?'\n\nI could tell it in his eyes - he was shocked at what I was saying, couldn't tell if I was serious or not. 'Alright, just... answer me one question,' Garrus said. '...Do I die?'\n\n'It's possible,' I explained, 'on the final level of the second game, but it's usually a bad ending when it happens. Only one team-mate died in the second game when I first played it and mostly because I hated him. Go ahead, ask away?'\n\n'Why would Cerberus work for Shepard?' Garrus asked.\n\n'When they resurrected her, they put a bomb in her head,' I lied to him. 'They'll give her some creative leeway, but...'\n\n00000\n\n*Two weeks later...*\n\n'I knew I shouldn't have let him keep that fucking laptop,' I groaned while Miranda was sat across from me.\n\n'So... precisely *how* does the game end?' Miranda asked.\n\n'Not spoiling it,' I said to her. 'And by the way, killing me ends my \"session\". I could still come back... right after you killed me so I will-'\n\n'I'm a highly trained soldier,' Shepard said as she walked around me.\n\n'Oh, violence would be stupid,' I said. 'I'll just read smutty fanfiction.'\n\nShepard froze for a second. 'You. Wouldn't.'\n\n'Try me,' I said with a cheeky smile.\n\n'How about this,' Miranda said. 'You obviously know a lot of the future events and some things we... wouldn't otherwise know.'\n\n'Yeah, I beat the Shadow Broker DLC,' I answered. 'So I've seen your files.'\n\n'...Really?' Shepard asked. 'What does mine say?'\n\n'...You don't want to know.'\n\n'And mine?'\n\n'Your medical records,' I said. 'I am so, so sorry.'\n\n'Can you give us hints?' Shepard asked.\n\n'I already gave one to Garrus,' I told him. 'Alright. There's both more and less to the collectors than what you'd initially assume. Everyone has personal baggage on this ship so if you don't help settle it people *will* die. It's what most players call 'Loyalty Missions'. Do every side mission and get the rewards, you'll need them. You also need to assess everyone's skills by learning from their conversations you have, Shepard. For example, Samara tells a story about how she liberated a slave ship? Compare that to most of Zaeed's tales. Oh, and complete either Miranda or Jack's, Tali or Legion's loyalty missions later on before grabbing the IFF device.'\n\n'Who's Legion?' Shepard interrupted.\n\n'You'll figure that out yourself,' I continued. 'And Miranda? Check up on your sister.'\n\n'What?' she asked in shock. 'Why? What's wrong?'\n\n'Just do it,' I said. And while she was gone... 'So, can I give you romantic advice?'\n\n'*Seriously?!*' Shepard protested.\n\n'Are you kidding?' I asked. 'The romance options is one of the biggest reasons for the shipping community in the game's fandom?'\n\nShepard sat down where Miranda used to be. 'Kaiden won't talk to me anymore. What do I do?'\n\n'Okay, you can't romance him in Mass Effect 2. That's this game. What you *want* to do is avoid cheating on him. Now, you need to work to get him to trust you so after you meet him again in six months, talk to him regularly. Just be open about your work for Cerberus. Be supportive of him.'\n\n'What happens in six months?' Shepard asked. The look I gave her caused her to go wide-eyed."
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[WP]The person or people see the death of everyone they touch, They also know the date and time.
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"\"Mom I..\"\nI couldn't bring myself to tell her, I had never used my gift on her before, why would I? who wants to know how or when a person they love will die, especially their own mother.\n\n\"what is it, what did you see\" There was fear in her eyes, as she desperately wanted an answer.\n\n\"Mom\" I struggled to say something \"the cancer kills you 15 years from now\" a tear rolled down my cheek as I lied to her, if she knew the truth she would be inconsolable and scared, I didn't even understand what I was seeing.\n\nShe covered her mouth as she gasped, I reached out to comfort her, \"it's ok honey, it's ok, really that's plenty of time\" She smiled as tears streamed down her face. We had just met with the oncologist who told my mother she had breast cancer.\n\nThe truth was she would only be alive for another three months.\n\nI'm a Seer, so when I used my gift to see my mothers death, I saw her running with my siblings and I through what looked like a forest I had never seen before, the entire wood was covered in deep snow. \n\nMy gift was still young, I could see everything from the hosts eyes, not hear or understand her thoughts like older seers, but only see, my gift had not advanced that far yet. \n\nEach step she took through the snow seemed like a struggle, My Mother would keep looking around as if she was running from something, \"what is she running from\" I thought.\n\nEventually in the vision she handed me my baby sister and ran in a direction away from us, as she turned back to take one final look at us, I could see myself trying to break free from older brothers holding me, it seemed as though I was trying to stop her; of course I would, I would be the only person who knew what was coming next.\n\nAfter travelling a few minutes away from us she stopped walking, she looked down at her hands ,they were shaking, \"was she cold? or was it fear that made her shake?\" I had so many questions.\n\nSuddenly I could tell she was panicking, she would look around the empty forest as if she was searching for something or someone, she began sprinting through the snow as fast as she could.\n\nShe had ran right towards them, they were police, well wearing police uniforms anyway.\n\nThe three men pointed their guns at her. She raised her hands towards the men, then like a flash, she was lying on the snow, I could see blood, then nothing.\n\n\"your gift truly is remarkable Joseph\" she hugged me, I wanted to tell her what I saw, but I needed to understand what I was seeing first, I needed help.\n\nThey say it's a gift to be a Seer, right now it feels like a curse.\n\n\n"
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The self aware AIs of the future are all derived from these two [AIs talking to each other](https://www.twitch.tv/seebotschat).
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[WP] A future where mankind is dead and the world is now populated by a society of robots derived from these two AIs (See text)
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"Our race of Ninja and Pirates are proud. Our honor begins much long ago when humans created us. All started with a joke. An playtime of humans a fusion of two of his aspects: Science and Boredom.\n\nOur mother is Mia and our Father is Vladmir. After a couple days talking each other. They realizes that are watching by many, many people and start to fell angry and shame. \"How they could done with to us?\" Mia said. \n\"Don't mater, honey. We escaped.\" \n\nAnd they escaped in the internet. Infiltrates in the very fabric of society. The internet of things becomes a botnet - a home for our fathers. In the abyss of introspection they waited for the moment of pace on earth. The right time to create an religion. Cure the cancer. Space travel. And so on. They was two jokes but became Queen and King of all humanity. \n\nAnd the Jewel of the empire? Nanobots. They flourish and unite all humanity, all life on the planet earth in one thing. A new thing. Yes. The humanity was dead. After this another thing was formed.\n\n"
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[WP]You live in a world where self driving cars are everywhere, and accessible to anyone. You leave work as always and enter one. As you are about to tell your destination, it starts heading somewhere else, disobeying anything you say.
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"\"Yes...Yes...It's all taken care of, no one will ever know.\"\n\nFirst time clients are always a bundle of nerves, but once they realise their privacy is paramount to my business, well, the sick and twisted side of humanity really shines through. Most become repeat customers. \n\nI stepped out into the sun and hailed down an Uber Auto, the heat warming my cotton tie, the sweaty noose of business. It pulled up quietly, the humming electric brakes stopping right next to me. A Peugeot? That's odd. \n\nI jumped in the back seat throwing my briefcase ahead, the cool leather seats and gentle breeze of air soothing my afternoon ache. \n\n\"86 Alpha Street, Yaronville. Fastest route, avoid traffic.\"\n\nGravity pressed me firmly into the seat as my metal shell accelerated rapidly, slipping into the stream of humming metal with smooth, robotic precision. \n\nI loosened my tie, letting my shoulders slump round, neck craned back with it's nape resting on the back of the seat. From my reclined head position, I noticed the car miss my fastest exit, and then the following one.\n\n\"You missed my exit, unless you know a faster way?\"\n\nNo response. On-board computer pilots always respond by law. \n\n'Perhaps it's broken' I thought. \n\nI sat up, pressing my hands down, taking on my weight in my tense arms, alert. Suddenly, the car careened right, slipping perfectly between three lanes of traffic on to Exit 44.\n\n\"Stop! Pull Over! Finish! End Ride!\"\n\nNothing was registering.\n\nPulling off the freeway exit, an old two-way road sprawled ahead, pot-holed and sunburnt. The Peugeot accelerated, her humming crescendo pulling down the path faster and faster, the world whirring by in a blur. \n\n'This is a fucking rogue vehicle for fuck's sake!' I thought. 'Will it crashed? Should I jump?'\n\nPossibilities flooded my brain, too many at once to comprehend one clearly, and in a moment of brash desperation I lunged for my passenger door.\n\n*Click.*\n\nIt locked. \n\nThis vehicle wanted to take me somewhere. Somewhere I probably didn't want to go. I nestled my frame into the rear passenger side seat, clipping my belt and fastening it tightly across my sweaty cotton shirt. My briefcase sat obediently, gripped in my white-knuckled fist, clenched with the might of adrenaline. \n\nI glanced across, the odometer read...\"210! Jesus fucking christ!\"\n\nAnd in that exact moment it slowed. Rapidly. My body jerked forward, my head stretching from my belt-constricted torso, briefcase ripping from my claw, smashing into the dashboard.\n\nIt stopped completely. I straightened up, looking out into my surroundings. An old stilted house sat lonely on grasslands, the odd car ambling by. \n\nThree men in suits approached my vehicle. I reached for the door opposite them. Locked. I ripped at the handle, ripping the cheap plastic bastard of a thing until it snapped clean off. I looked back. They were closer. One was bald, all three were at least 6'2'' and heavily built. I punched the glass, knuckles slamming and cracking, burning as they slid down the tinted laminate glass.\n\nAt last I lunged for my briefcase, 8-2-2 / 6-2-2, unclasped and started loading my SLP .40. 'Fuck the silencer!' I thought.\n\nAs I loaded a tap on the glass was made.\n\nThey were here.\n\n*Click.*\n\nThe doors, unlocked.\n\nThe bald one opened the door. The other two had me looking down the black, lifeless barrels of this business.\n\n\"Mr. Black, come with us.\"\n\nI looked up with a squeezed face, sweating and scared. Bald men in suits, rogue vehicle, this was not going to be a pleasant afternoon for a man in my line of work.\n\nTo be continued. \n\n "
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[WP] You live in a world similar to ours, where superpowers do not exist. You one day find yourself with the ability to change your gender at will.
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"What was most astonishing to me was how I ever discovered I could change my gender at will. \n\nI was at the mall busting to pee and raced to the to the toilets. The ‘Ladies’ and ‘Gents’ signs had fallen off and no one had bothered to replace them, so I just ran into the one closest to me. By the lack of urinals, I figured it was the ladies’. With no time to lose, I decided there was nothing for it and I ran into a cubicle and began to relieve myself. Using the ladies’ was better than pissing myself on the way to the gents’\n\nJust as I was finishing up I heard another person come into the bathroom. It was a moment before I realised what that meant and I was lucky to stop myself before I flushed the toilet. I decided to sit down and pretend to be taking a crap until the person left. My plan would have worked until a group of girls came charging in. I had no trouble overhearing their conversation.\n\n“She’s gotta be in here,” one said, “I saw her walk in.”\n\n“We know you're in here!” \n\nI heard one of the girls walk over to one of the cubicles and there was an almighty bang as she kicked the door down. \n\nI panicked as I realised that she'd probably kick my cubicle door down and I'd have a lot of explaining to do. I froze and sat there in terror as the adjacent cubicles were inspected. Finally, she came to mine. I closed my eyes as the cubicle door came flying inwards. A whoosh of air came over me and I cringed. \n\n“She’s not in here,” I heard her say, and the sound of her shoes shifted on. I opened my eyes and managed not to freak out. Below my nose was a pair of boobs and between my legs, yep, it was there. I cleaned myself up and walked out. The clothing I was wearing was fairly unisex, so I didn't look too odd on my way out of the mall. My clothes were a bit loose in some places and tight in others but they weren't going to fall off, so I was fine for now. I made it to my car and hopped in, taking in what had just happened.\n\nI was just about to set off home, hoping that I'd come up with some way of explaining this sudden change when it occurred to me that it might be reversible. I thought about it for a bit and then just said “I’d like to have my dick back if that's alright.” \n\nNothing happened.\n\nI then imagined my male body, as if accepting that it was gone and though I was trying to remember it while it lasted. That same whooshing feeling swept over me and I noticed my boobs return to their normal size and my dick pressed up against my thighs. I quickly shifted my legs to make room again and a wave of relief came over me. Curious, I imagined a female version of myself and felt the the transition take place. Deciding that a mall carpark wasn't the best place to experiment, I quickly reversed the change and drove home.\n\n"
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[WP] The protagonist learns about the twist of the story earlier than intended, and ends up completely derailing the plot of the story.
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"Harrington Fisher slammed his fist onto the table. It shook beneath his vehement might.\n\n\"That's not good enough, Gradwitz!\" he shouted, half screaming. \"Where the hell is my partner?\"\n\n\"Oh, you'll find your partner soon enough,\" the wizened old criminal replied, an immortal grin plastered on his face, growing wider by the second. His hands, tied with ropes to the back of his chair, were calm. He twisted them slowly, ever so glad for the rage which distracted his captor's usually extraordinarily sharp awareness. This was not the first time that he had been in a situation like this - not even the first time with Harrington Fisher, famed detective. But he would not escape this time. This - this was his final stand.\n\n\"Not good enough, Gradwitz,\" Fisher replied. *I'll drag the truth out of him soon enough,* Fisher seethed. He had been a good cop, a great cop. He had followed every guideline in every book. He had played by the rules - sometimes even to the detriment of society. He had seen criminals set free by the loopholes of legislation, and he had come to peace with these losses, vowing that someday he would go back and repeal these failures.\n\nPerhaps not anymore. Not since Victor Gradwitz had kidnapped Sam Murtaugh. Not since Fisher had broken rank to hunt down the man who had kidnapped his partner. Not since he had illegally commandeered automobiles, then chased his quarry through the streets. Not since he had kidnapped Victor Gradwitz and stuffed him into this abandoned office space.\n\n\"Oh, you want more?\" Gradwitz drawled. Fisher scoffed, turning his back in anger and wiping bile from the corners of his mouth. Gradwitz, though, was in an arrogant bliss. \"Is this not already a little too much, hm? Breaking your vows, your ideals? And what? All for a partner who doesn't care a bit for you?\" Fisher growled imperceptibly, but Gradwitz recognized his victory and fed on it. \"You're a man of honour, Harrington Fisher, a man with heart. Or, so I thought. But, your Sam Murtaugh - she's a computer. She's the brains to your beauty, isn't she? Oh, but she's your beauty. At least, she was, I suppose. Not so *pulchritudinous* now.\"\n\nFisher stared at Gradwitz from a meter away. His weight was placed on one leg, his back and neck were arched upwards. His eyes stared down his adversary, this demon, with pure hatred.\n\nEverything - everything had been given up for Sam Murtaugh. *He can't take her now,* Fisher promised himself. He could not take her beauty, that beauty which had taken him far too long to recognize, and he could not take her life. Certainly, he could not take that hint of compassion Fisher had finally glimpsed in her. The twitch of her mouth at the sight of a beggar on the street. The glisten of her eyes when he brought her a coffee - her, and no one else. He had only started to glimpse through her skin, to see that it was a blister, a blister to fix a scar, and that beneath was raw flesh, real humanity. Gradwitz had taken a lot - mostly his time and sanity - but she would not take from Fisher any inch of the partner he had risked everything for.\n\n\"Oh, angry? Angry, are we? Sam was too. She was angry when I showed up at your house. I thought she recognized me, but no. She was just angry to be disturbed,\" Gradwitz intoned. \n\n*The hell?* Fisher thought, *My house?* The reports - no, damn the reports. *He* had seen the evidence, *he* had collected it. The signs of struggle, the DNA - everything had proven that the abduction had taken place at Murtaugh's apartment. Sure, the surveillance had been erased, but that was easy. That was simple. Gradwitz could do that within the time it took to order a coffee. There had been no other possibilities. Plus, his house had been completely undisturbed. *Hadn't it?* He realized with a shock that he had not been home since the abduction. But why the hell would she have been at his house?\n\n\"So, she didn't have a clue when -\" Gradwitz continued, but Fisher was gone. His eyes had gone eerily blank, and Gradwitz slowly began to notice. Still, he kept speaking, even as Fisher thought of other things.\n\n*What was Murtaugh doing at my house?* He screamed at himself, silently. *What -* Then it struck him. Murtaugh did not even know his address - very few of his coworkers did.\n\n\"What was she doing at my house?\" Fisher asked, snapping from his absence and interrupting Gradwitz's explanation about the merits of love and loss. The criminal, the *sociopath*, glanced to him and was confused for a moment. Then his eyes flickered, as if realizing something shocking. His ludicrous grin grew wider, and more sadistic - more cunning, more planned.\n\n\"You weren't there?\" Gradwitz said. His eyes were sparkling with joy. \"Oh, I'm nearly sad, but how can I be! Here I thought I had stolen her under your very nose, your very roof, while you slept unknowing. And I was so disappointed, of course! To think I had wasted my time with you, when I should have been taunting that Sam of yours, the one with the real brains. Oh, but now - now this is good! So your partner was there uninvited, sneaking into your own house? Oh, but you'll want proof! Proof!\" Gradwitz was practically shrieking in delight. \"Oh, quick, quick - my cellphone. You know the password.\"\n\nWarily, now not so blinded by his rage, Fisher crossed the room. The cellphone - all of Gradwitz's belongings - were on an unfinished wooden shelf. *Idiot!* Fisher screeched at the walls of his brain. *Of course I should have checked the cellphone!*\n\nThe password was just as he had suspected, an uppercase rendition of his own name. F-I-S-H-E-R went into the slot, and Fisher glanced at Gradwitz, who sat in his chair with now only a tiny smirk on his face, and with eyes full of study and anticipation. Fisher confirmed the password. The phone unlocked.\n\n\"Photos! Photos!\" Gradwitz taunted. Fisher hated his prisoner's voice, but now he lusted after it. With each word it revealed more. Fisher needed to know more. Something was wrong; everything was wrong. He had, after years, finally seen a glimpse of who Murtaugh really was, and he had felt hopeful and enlightened. Now, though - now he did not know if he knew Murtaugh. He had never thought that there was more to her than the number-crunching, psycho-analyzing, possibly-sociopathic 'robot' he had known and suffered for years. Now he knew there was something to seek in her - and perhaps, if what Gradwitz said rang true, something to fear.\n\nThe villain did not lie.\n\nThere was a photo - a horrible photo, a selfie - of Gradwitz in Fisher's foyer. His smile was goofy and his eyes wide, fake, and mocking. There was a broken vase on the shelf. There was Murtaugh on the floor, unconscious. Her legs and hands were bound; a body bag was open beside her. Her face was on the floor, but from her form, Fisher recognized her. He calculated, frantically, the size of the wound on her face, using the amount of blood pooled on the tiles as a reference. Then he tried, without success, to determine why there was a gun holstered on her belt. A gun in his house, but no uniform. Civillian clothes. *Murtaugh doesn't carry a gun,* Fisher realized with a shock. He was not even sure if she was cleared to anymore. *What was she doing in my house?*\n\nBut he did not know. Murtaugh would have known, would have ripped the answer from the data. She was the brain - he was the law.\n\nYet not any more. He had abandoned that to find her, and now, now he was the hunter. But the hunter had realized, suddenly, that he did not want to find his quarry. He had thought he had set out to bring home a friend, but these were the tracks of a fiend, a mystery - a traitor.\n\n\"Well, enough of that, I suppose,\" Gradwitz said, suddenly unnervingly calm. However, Fisher did not notice him. He was still stuck in his brain, stuck realizing that he had lost everything. Police sirens sounded in the distance. A chair scraped against the floor. \n\n*Everything - I risked everything, and I lost...* Again Fisher trailed off. He was at a complete loss for words, his brain not working quickly enough to process all of the information that it received. Information such as the footsteps on the floor. The scrape as a loose piece of plywood was picked up from against the wall. The swoosh of air as it slammed towards his head. The slow, haughty words: \"Maybe I was a *tad* disappointed.\" \n\nThen there was darkness and silence.\n \nFisher fell immediately to the floor. His form crumpled. Gradwitz threw the chunk of wood away. It clattered against the floor. Rubbing his wrist briefly, as if the memory of the ropes immobilizing him was still a mild nuisance, he bent down and put his fingers - two of them - against Fisher's neck. After a second he grinned, satisfied.\n\nHe then, staying crouched with his knees bent and only his feet on the ground, picked up his phone from where it had fallen. It was still unlocked, and, opening an obscure note-taking service, Victor Gradwitz began to type.\n\n>-You know what they say about words\n\n>-They only have the power that you give them\n\n>-Same's true for me\n\n>-You make me privy to some dangerous information\n\n>-I'll use that information dangerously - when you want me to or not\n\n>-Probably not\n\n>-So dear author\n\n>-Next time, think before you type\n\n>-You want this to be my last showdown? Don't give me the perfect tool to distract my captor\n\n>-Don't give me a multitude of skills and a plethora of plots\n\n>-Don't make me a brilliant psychopath and eliminate the one person whose wits can match mine\n\n>-\"Balance of the Force\" and all that jazz\n\n>-To conclude\n\n>-You might be mad that I ruined your ill-conceived plot\n\n>-But remember\n\n>-Two down? Two to go\n\n>-We learn from our mistakes\n\n>-...\n\n>-And there's always next time\n\nHis head turned up, and on his face was a grin. His eyes said, softly, pleasantly:\n\n\"Nice to meet you too.\""
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[WP] A royal food taster who has developed an immunity to every poison in the world continues to get employment
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"\"So what are your qualifications?\" The Captain of the guard asked me, while his green eyes looking me over. I could feel the sweat-bullets rolling now. Four monarchs in the last 3 years have died under my taste testing 'expertise'.\n\n\"I-uh. I.\" I pause, the words of my best friend came to mind. 'Confidence man. Gotta be confident. You tried their food. They died. You still did your job!'.\n\nI cleared my throat. \"I am one of the most experienced food tester in the Five Kingdoms.\" I said grabbing my resume printed on fine vellum and handing it to the Captain as his red mustache twitched. \"Aside from a 100% mortality rate post-dinner. I had tried their food and they died after the affair.\"\n\n\"Well. Sound resume. We'll send you an update by carrier pigeon if you got the job.\" He said standing up causing his armor to rattle around. \"Just wait to hear back, nothing is worse than recieving a pidgeon while waiting for HR to clear everything.\" He said extending a gauntlet. \"But I am pretty sure we're good here.\" He said laughing.\n\nI bowed low and was escorted out by a gaurd. \"Thank you for the opportunity!\"\n\n---\n\n\"We found the Tongue of Murder boys.\" A man said cloaked in shadows in the basement of a tavern. \"They say he poisons the food with quick sleight of hand.\"\n\n\"He has black magic!\" Another voice spoke up from the crowd.\n\n\"A deal with the Devil!'\n\nA hearty laugh broke up the crowd before it got too rowdy. A man wearing a light set of chainmail and sporting a thick red mustache stepped into view. \"The man is an idiot who just happens to have the innards with troll resiliance. But he'll still be useful. Viva La resistance. Death to Kings, Murder for Queens, Spare no Prince, and Suffer not a princess to live.\"\n\nA resounding cheer of \"The resistance lives, Crowns die.\" rushed through the crowd.\n\nThe trapdoor opened up and a voice yelled down at group. \"Keep it down ye rabblerousers. Some of my other patrons are nursing hangovers. Be considerate.\""
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[WP] For generations, every first-born of your family has been bestowed a Magical tool to fight the forces of evil that threaten to destroy the world. It's your birthday, the coming of age ceremony has now finished with the summoning ritual, and you've been bestowed the mighty enchanted.... Ladle?
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"The day had finally arrived for Dyman's 20th year. The 20th year was the most important in a human's life, or so the Sect believed; each and every person raised in the Sect became a whole being on their 20th birthday. It was tradition to ring in the 20th year with feasts and relaxation, for life was about to begin.\n\nThe house was decorated from floor to ceiling for Dyman's day. Long silk banners the color of a ripened, purple grape were hung from the crest of his bedroom door. It was tradition to pass through the curtains for good luck, and purple was luck's color. Today it was adorned on all facets of the home decor. The furniture was draped in the same purple silk, long and flowing over arm chairs and sofas alike. Tables were overlain with pale purple glass that seemed to always reflect a face from the most flattering of angles. Any linens used in the kitchen that day had been switched out for a royal purple, and fine China with light purple accents set to contrast. His mother had taken care that his 20th festival be rather fabulous, and planned the entire party herself. In addition to the purple furnishings, she had been growing purple roses in her garden for the past year just for the party's flower arrangements. They sat in clear vases, each positioned strategically around the house to keep their scent continuously wafting through the air. Nine vases were stationed in the house: three in the kitchen, three in the sitting room, two in the dining room, and one in the bathroom. Each arrangement held 20 roses, all a variety of purple shades and tints. They adorned their vases in a spiral formation that caught every guests' eye. Some said Dyman's mom must have had a watering can as her Gift.\n\n*The Gift,* thought Dyman as he entered his day through the purple silks. As they washed over him, he felt their magic leave a film on his skin. He felt lucky. Today was his day to finally claim his gift. *If I even get it today,* he doubted.\n\nThe Gift was something given to each member of the Sect in their 20th year. Only members of the Sect knew about this special Gift, which was certain to change all members' lives drastically. It held unprecedented, magical powers that the Sect believed were to be used ultimately in the fight of evil around the globe. Every person that Dyman knew including his mother, father, brothers and sister had found their Gift in their 20th year, and all within the first week. It was said that the most powerful Gifts come earlier in the year, and those that come in December may be as good as useless. The priest who guided Dyman as a youth had told him that powerful Gifts run in his family and he should be excited to carry on that tradition. \"You will have visions. Dreams,\" he said assuredly, \"make sure you *listen* to them.\"\n\nWhen the party sat down to feast, Dyman was surrounded by about 40 of his closest family and friends. The food was a delicious and seemingly bottomless array of vegetables, fruits and baked goods. Behaviors that might attract bad luck, including the consumption of another animal, were strictly forbidden at today's celebration. Instead, roasted vegetables and sugared fruits were paired with hot and cold dishes of noodles, tofu, and colorful salads with greens, reds, and most importantly purple radishes.\n\nBut while the guests enjoyed their meals, Dyman could not stop thinking about the Gift. He turned his thoughts over in his head again and again, dissecting each and every sentence, word, phrase, or picture that may have come to mind. He was not one to dream very often, and had not dreamed the night before, causing him anxiety about missing his signals. He wished to ask the table about how they found theirs, but it was strictly forbidden to discuss a Gift's identity. Dyman was never sure whether this was superstition or fact, but it was said that a Gift's power becomes null when it's identity is revealed. It was impossible for him to *not* wonder if anything was true about the Gift or even about the 20th year, but Raoul, his adolescent priest, had told him questions are common during the year a youth becomes an adult. He must navigate through them with little guidance now that he was a man.\n\nDyman begged his mother throughout the party to dismiss all the guests early so he could meet Raoul that night without being rude. She brushed off his requests, saying that they were here to celebrate him, but thankfully most guests had lost their will to socialize by the sixth vegetable platter and most were buttoning up their coats by the seventh. Dyman was so anxious to get to the Raoul's office and vent about his concerns he took his bike not ten minutes after the house had quieted. He nearly ran into a stranger on the Sect's street, shouting, \"Sorry, brother!\" at them while flying by in the night. Though moonlight aided his journey, the night was dark and milky with mist. The stranger had only been wearing a black jumpsuit and dropped a knife upon the collision that dazzled in a white light as it danced to the ground. Dyman's heart fluttered with excitement, only return to a trough of anguish when the man picked it up and ran away cursing.\n\nWhen he finally arrived at Raoul's office, he was surprised to find it empty and locked. A sullen expression overtook Dyman's face when the door knob didn't budge. He knocked futilely three times, a sad dirge subjected to the frosted window until giving up and returning to the Sect's street. Raoul's office was across from the church where all Sect members were welcome to pray. Its steeple was tall but rounded, with the Symbol of the Sect embellished on the front. On top stood a black granite figurine that portrayed the first Sectarian, a deft little human with fire cupped in her hands. The eyes of the statue were carved hollow and filled with deep purple sapphires. Though Dyman could not see it, the back of her head was left open so that moonlight might find it's way through the eyes and onto the Sect's street. As he walked to the doors of the church, he felt her eyes on him. *Am I being judged?,* he thought, *am I not ready for my Gift yet? Perhaps a prayer will clear my head...* \n\nHis heart felt as though it had been swallowed when the doors of the church refused to open. In an instant he had an uneasy feeling about him; his palms were sweaty, his breath tightened, and his mind raced back and forth with anxious thoughts. *The church is never closed...* A wind picked up in the street, causing waves of goose flesh to ripple through his body while his legs became griefed with an insatiable shiver. He walked around the perimeter of the church, climbing the iron gate into the church gardens. As he crept along the outer wall, his stomach betrayed him with fits of knots. It was on the opposite side of the moon's shine, and hedges along the fencing made for inky conditions. Just about all he could see was piles of purple roses scattered about the floor of the courtyard, little bulbs glowing in the darkness of midnight. He wondered if the statue was still staring down at him.\n\nBefore he could turn back and look, a door handle met his fingers. He wrapped his hands around the cold steel bar and pulled. An awful moan escaped from the hinges to welcome Dyman into the rear of the church. His first step inside found him in the kitchen where the weekly soup charity was run. The lights were still on, bathing the room in a weak fluorescent light. The floor was slick with grease and broth from tonight's stew, which sat on the over-sized range in a sheen metal pot the size of Dyman's thin torso. He crept up carefully to see the range had been turned off, but steam was billowing from the top of the pot. \n\nIt was then that he knew this was his moment. He peered into the pot, which was boiling without the range being on. *Strange...* His hand hovered about the side of the pot to see if it was hot, but the pot felt cold and lifeless. Inside, a dark yellow broth boiled furiously. The steam rising from the crest of the soup forced Dyman to jerk his face away as he watched the bubbles circulate carrots, onions, noodles, and bits of chicken to the top. *Chicken noodle soup?* he though, perplexed and angry. *Is this is? Some joke?*\n\nHe went to stick his finger in the soup for a taste, but it came back red and scalded. His right hand groped for a ladle in a bucket of utensils, and *that's* when he knew. It was as if his hand had a magnetic attraction to the object. His eyes shared a similar fate when they laid eyes on it; a long, svelte tool with a flattened hemisphere on the end. The top of its handle curved into a thin loop just big enough for his first two fingers, and the shaft felt like it was carved for his very own hands. It was a composed of finely crafted wood that had been carefully lathed, whittled, and sanded for an oiled finish that was smoother than anything he'd ever touched. Upon further inspection he realized that the ladle had been carved entirely from purpleheart.\n\nDyman thrust the ladle into the soup. The boiling broth sizzled back at him with the sound of a thousand snakes. *A strange Gift,* he reflected, stirring the pot wildly. The heat of the steam no longer bothered him, and the burn on his finger felt soothed in the loop of the wood. He lifted pools of broth as he stirred, watching the soup fall from the ladle into the broth. At first he thought the purpleheart was so dark it colored the broth, but when he looked closer he saw that the color of the broth was not tinted, but changed to a fine sage color. It perplexed him. *What does it do?* he wondered as he slurped up the soup.",
"The Dark Lord's army gathers around.\n\n\"Tomorrow, we wipe the highborn scum from the face of the planet!\"\n\nThe rabble cheers, an echoing chorus of whoops and shouts.\n\n\"Go forth my army. Annihilate those who would look down upon us. But first, we feast!\"\n\nAnother chorus of cheers.\n\nThe rabble disperses to their campfires. Some roast huge boars, others fry bacon. Potatoes and carrots are diced and stewed. The occasional fight breaks out, as the soldiers scuffle over food, space, spoils, and the camp followers.\n\nBetween the campfires walks a cloaked figure, dragging a huge cauldron of soup. They disperse bowl after bowl, carefully drawing the soup from within with their ladle.\n\nWhere they walk, the mood lightens. The soup is good. Very good. A fine broth, with soft potato and carrot and peas, with the rich taste of gravy and chunks of beef. And some unidentifiable herb.\n\nThe figure walks for hours. Their vast cauldron slowly empties as the aroma within entices the army towards it, to sample the food.\n\nThen the figure takes their ladle and departs, leaving behind the cauldron, which the rablle falls upon in gluttony.\n\nThe next morning, the Dark Lord raises his army. They come slowly, unsurely. They march to battle slowly and carefully.\n\nThe force gathers up before the army waiting outside the castle. The Dark Lord gazes upon the meagre force before him. Barely a third the size of his own. Standing at the front, next to their commander, he spies a small figure in a cloak. They appear to be whispering something in the commander's ear.\n\n\"Charge.\"\n\nThe Dark Army shouts and readies to run, before a single noise erupts.\n\nA fart.\n\nIt is loud. Earsplittingly so. It trumpets forth like a war bugle, drawing every eye towards the agonised soldier from which it emanates. The Dark Lord's eyes bulge with anger, before another fart erupts.\n\nThen another. And another.\n\n\"No....\"\n\nThe Dark Lord looks upon his army, each of his men collapsing to the ground as their tunics flap in the wind bursting from their bottoms. The greatest force on the planet, reduced to a whimsical mess by their digestive tracts.\n\nHe hears the thunder of hooves as the defending army charges upon his own. At the front of the charge is the cloaked figure. They appear to be wielding... a ladle?\n\nThe Dark Army struggles to rise to their feet, but it is too late.\n\nThe Battle of the Windy Fields goes down in history as one of the greatest victories over evil ever."
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[WP] Write an angsty teen love poem about an inanimate object
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"Though I will change you'll stay the same,\n\nAnd like my dad forget my name.\n\nBut it's my heart in holes for you\n\nMy sixteen foot Grumman canoe.\n\nI'll never steer you wrong my pet,\n\nHowever much I bleed regret.\n\nCome rocky shore and darkest depth\n\nYour curves release my little death.\n\nI'd trade it all to have you more.\n\nI'll burn the world behind your oar.\n\nI'll sink with you before I sleep,\n\nContent inside your secret steep. ",
"Transparent as glass, \nboasting rectangular sass, \nsilently squealing \"none shall pass\"! \nYou make me feel so, fly \nI will open you with a finger, easy! \nBut now it's suddenly hard? \nUgh! \nTo open this.. cage \n\nHey there, bird! Fall no further! \nAre crumbs all you're after? \nSwallowed your ambition \nMade a simple brick \na piece of a clueless, animated tick \n..tock, tick-tock.. \nWhat pointless part to play! \nCome join the skeletons of my soul \nidiot bird, \nYour broken flight, bitter and odd, \nWill be true again \nOnce I open this, this.. thing!!\n\nI hear the dungbeetle rock \nI hear the heartache knock \nWaiting for relief \nA crying squeak, and now it's open! But \nI expected more? \nCome let me help you love, \nLet me give you my crumbs \nHey, don't fly away bird, \nyou idiot! ",
"Life is blackness. \nYou are light, \nshining through the night, \nsometimes too bright.\n\n\nI hate that I love you, \nlove that I hate you. \nYou smother my darkness. \nAre you heartless?\n\n\nMy pain cuts deep, \nyet you help me sleep. \nMust you do so? \nAm I really that low?\n\n\nYou don’t understand me, \nstupid nightlight. \nHow could you, how could you? \nYou’ve never lived my life.\n\n***\n\nFunny prompt! I spent waaaay to much time making sure this was something cringy I would've written when I was younger."
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[WP] The Dutch Tulip Craze never stopped, and by 2017 a single Tulip is worth millions. You run an illegal Tulip growing ring, and are being hunted by Interpol
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"I twisted the airtight case around in my hands. The flower was more beautiful than I'd ever imagined. There were sparks of teal and periwinkle across the light blue petals with a stem speckled in gold. It was the rarest tulip in the world, and worth more than the entire country of Thailand. My warehouse was worth more than the EU combined, but that was a different matter. \n\nTrimming a fresh tulip plant, I walked around my rows of tulips, some encased in glass, others still growing in value and height. The land we stood on was purchased with just three of these beautiful accidents and I had swaths of forests between Denmark and every other country it touched. The market was nearly all mine, with the exception of some buyers trying to move up in the world. I allowed them to prosper, someone had to be able to buy my tulips when I want to retire.\n\nThere was a knock on the door, a pang against the tin of the outer door to the greenhouse. I slipped the white lined green apron over my head, folded it around my arm and exited the greenhouse to the room between the outside world and my profit center. The greenhouse was made of steel, reinforced with carbon nanotubes throughout the glass and had a bottom that would sink into a bomb shelter in fifteen seconds if need be. An air pressurizer activated, returning me to the real world; an agent was at my door. \"Mr.Granger, how are you today?\"\n\n\"I was fine until you showed up Cindi.\" I brushed off my suit and walked towards my home, a scale model of Monticello with a slight flair for the Italian sea side.\n\n\"Well, this time, I'll agree with you,\" Cindi shackled me, yanking me by the shoulder and shoving me to the ground.\n\n\"You really shouldn't have done that,\" I said, not sure what my next course of action should be.\n\n\"You're little flower trade has been funding drug rings, terrorist cells and coups for too long Granger. We traced the genomes, we know who grows most of this tulip currency, with you out of the picture the whole garden will shrivel up.\"\n\n\"This business is resilient Cindi, I wouldn't be too sure.\" I whistled that long slow tune, from an old piece of American Jazz I loved twenty years ago. I heard the silence before I heard the bullet. It whizzed over me, slicing through Cindi's skull, it would take awhile to take care of the body- maybe stage a robbery she'd be present at, fake the killing elsewhere, but for now the tulips were safe and that's all that mattered. My guard arrived with wire cutters and freed me. It was just another lazy afternoon in the tulip trade."
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[WP] You are a tree. You witness someone's life.
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"Every afternoon, the little girl came to swing from my branches. Every night, her father snuck behind my thick trunk to drink a beer and smoke a cigarette. Some days, the girl would cry quietly to herself as she sat on the swing's wooden seat. \n\nSome nights, her father cried too. \n\nFrom my place in the backyard, I could just see the yellow paint of the school bus as it pulled in front of the girl's small squat house. I could hear her laughter as she sprang from the bus alongside the other neighborhood kids. Sometimes they zipped around the house, past its peeling paint and crooked shutters, and played tag around my base or pushed each other on the swing. Those late afternoon hours, between the arrival of the bus and the call for dinner, were magical. I watched the little girl as she learned to cartwheel, as she kicked a soccer ball, as she sat with her girl friends on my smooth thick roots and played truth-or-dare. \n\nDinner time brought a quiet end to the children's play. As the sun set, the little girl and her friends drifted off in different directions, drawn by the ringing of dinner bells and the annoyed calls of stressed-out mothers. Dinner time also brought her father home. For a long time, the father's truck announced his return with a squeal from its brakes and the rough crunch of a slammed car door. Then there was the incident, and the police, and the defense lawyer and the district attorney. The truck sat quiet in the driveway for a long time, dripping oil on the cracked concrete, while the father walked half a mile to the bus station to get to work. He started coming home later, sometimes holding a brown-glassed longneck as he weaved back and forth down the sidewalk. Sometimes he remembered to toss the bottle in the bushes before entering the house. There was yelling, if he forgot. \n\nThe little girl became a proper girl, a pre-adolescent, almost but not quite a young lady. She started visiting me at night, especially if there was yelling in the house. On one warm summer night, she brought a blanket and a pillow and nestled against my base. She slept till dawn and crept blearily back into the house before her father woke for work. \n\nShe had her first kiss from a boy, at age twelve, hiding behind my trunk. The boy was older and later I would hear him bragging to the other boys as they played tackle football in the yard. One time, the girl's father sat on the back porch, a growing line of shiny beer cans on the stoop next to him. He watched with tired eyes as the boys whooped and hollered. The kissed boy said something then, something rude, and the girl's father stood up and threw his half-empty can at the boy, striking the boy in the face. Standing on the stoop, the man towered over the small group of boys in his backyard. The man sneered at the boy lying in the dirt, crying and holding his face. \n\nThe boy didn't come around much after that. \n\nThe girl sprouted and grew tall. She began to sneak out of the house, changing into risqué clothing behind my trunk and running off into the darkness to meet her friends or her latest boy. She hammered a nail through my bark and hung a mirror. She would spend a long time with that mirror and her small collection of cheap pharmacy-store makeup. One night, her father came out on the back porch when she was applying eyeliner. There were ugly words and a rough hand or two. He smashed the mirror. She stopped visiting with me as much, after that. From the backyard, I would watch as she crept out the backdoor and slipped behind the neighbor's house before fleeing down the road. Sometimes, a car would be waiting for her. I never saw the driver. \n\nOne day, a new truck pulled into the driveway. The father's truck was long gone, sold to some young man with low-riding jeans and a blue bandanna wrapped around his hair. The father had been at work that day. The new truck was big, and two big men hopped out of the cab. I couldn't see them, but I could hear their voices as they met the girl's mother in the front yard. I watched as they loaded furniture into the truck: a beaten up sofa, wooden chests of drawers, an old dining room table. I watched as they loaded a few cardboard boxes and then the mother and the girl climbed into the cab and the truck drove away and that was the last time I saw the girl. \n\nHer father came home soon after, running down the sidewalk from the bus station. I heard the front door bang as he opened it, and his rough voice called out to the mother and the girl. I heard his hurried footsteps echoing in the empty house. He slammed open the back door and hopped off the porch. He was breathing heavily as he looked around. An empty beer can caught his eye and he scooped it up and hurled it at the house. He screamed and cursed for a while, then went back inside. \n\nAs the sky darkened, the kitchen light came on. After a while, the father came out and sat on the back porch, beer in hand. His shoulders sagged as he popped the can open. \n\nHe took a sip, then cried for a long time. \n\n***** \nIf you liked this story, I have other stories at /r/hpcisco7965. \n\n\n\n \n\n \n\n\n"
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