Split (1)

train · 199k rows

post_text stringlengths 0 17.5k	post_title stringlengths 8 314	comment_texts listlengths 1 74	num_stories int64 1 74
An ordinary man gets roped into a grand conspiracy, and finally meets with the men behind it all. What happens?	[WP] "Your role in this plan was a blank canvas on which you could paint your future. We merely gave you the brush."	[ "With abject horror I witnessed it all. Through the course of time with terror I watch it all begin to consume itself.\n\nOnce loving strokes -- strokes created with tender care and creative thinking -- had turned and consumed. Its gaping maw was never full, its hunger never satiated. \n\nIn the matter of millenia or seconds I saw my creation twisted, turned and transformed into pure malevolence. \n\nWhat was love, became hatred; what was fulfillment, became hunger; what was trust, became betrayal. Like the unraveling of a sweater I watched it all fall apart.\n\nAll this ran through my mind as I stood before the Great Employer.\n\n\"How could you let this happened,\" I shouted at him, barely holding back the tears of his betrayal. \"They were good, they were wholesome. There was love.\"\n\nHe only smiled his wicked smile and leaned forward. \"You think we had forgotten your transgressions? That we had forgotten what you had sought to do not so long ago? Are you so naive?\"\n\nI felt my face become hot with anger and embarrassment. \n\n\"We did not. We've been scheming, God, and time for your retribution has come. Your role in this plan was a blank canvas on which you could paint your future. We merely gave you a brush. You chose to paint theirs instead.\"\n\nHe tapped his fingers and tilted his head upwards so he could look down upon God. \n\n\"Your sins will only be repaid once each and every one of your strokes of beauty is mangled and broken. Watch now, as your masterpiece destroys itself.\"" ]	1
	[WP] A eulogy for a hated person.	[ "Samuel. What should I say about you? What would anyone say about you? You came and you went, and none too soon if I do say so myself. Oh, pipe down. Do not fuck with a life. Do not tell me to fuck with the story of someone's life. It's all we have, and it's sure as hell all he had. Would you all wish someone to spout lies above your grave? For some dumb fuck who stuck by your pre-rotting corpse to tell the gods of nothing about how you'll be missed, when the greatest gift you ever gave those that were supposed to love you was the privilege of living a life without you? Fuck no, not me. And not Samuel either.\n\nSamuel, you make me want to believe that there's something more after death. Some heaven and hell. Just so I would know that you're rotting in some fiery pit, doing hand-stands in four feet of shit.\n\nRest in peace, Sam. And thanks for keeling over soon enough to let all of us rest for a little while.\n\nA-Fucking-men." ]	1
	[WP] "I looked at the Orion. It looked like you." Write a love story.	[ "pre.p.s.: I love this prompt. I don't know there aren't many other replies.\n\n-\n\nIt was a long before I began to feel drowsy. The Sky hadn't taken its toll on me. I suppose the vaccine was working; I hoped it was working, but hope can always be just as deadly. So here I am, drugged up on Sleep so I can sleep. The drugs help me sleep. Otherwise I lie awake, hoping not to die. Hope. Fucking hope. Sleeping meant you might not wake up, so drugs solved that problem. Others had been using Sleep Away. Staying awake forever can't guarantee not dying, so why avoid sleep?\n\nTonight, I felt the sleep before I was asleep.\n\nThe dark forest comes to mind tonight. It's darker in the forest than it is the city. The bright lights of city had long been burnt out. Then the sky descended, fell onto us faster than the plague itself. The sky fell and covered us with, was it fear? No. At the time we had nothing to fear. The sky fell and covered us with the calming warmth we needed. We needed the warmth and the sky had given it to us plentiful. So plentiful had the warmth become that we became warm ourselves and slowly, so slowly, we became overwhelmed with warmth. The warmth became a kind of cold. A cold like the ones that we would read about in our history books, a virus. It consumed us. It froze us. This warmth, this fallen sky. So what did we do? We burned. We burned and we trying to stay cool before we became cold. The dark, warm city with its cold infesting warmth, and here I was, in this forest of another kind of darkness. This time the forest was dark and unforgiving. Maybe unforgiving is the wrong word. Maybe the right word is unrelenting. The forest was unrelentingly dark, but this unrelenting darkness was inviting. I wanted its darkness to surround me. It was comforting. It was a pure darkness, a darkness that was meant to cure hatred and supply love. I knew this darkness well. This was my darkness, my forest, my unrelenting love. So sleep came to me. It came to me as I stood abject to the forest, inviting it to consume and consummate me. And it did.\n\nMaybe you are this forest. Maybe you are my darkness.\n\nIn the city, there is no light. In this forest there is no light. In me, though, there is something. Some kind of faint forgotten light that doesn't exist but maybe it once did. Maybe in a past life, in my unrelentingly light, I was Orion. No, not Orion. I was Ursa. The goddess lover and mother and bear. Thrown away and forgotten. Killed by my own redemption. Cast away into the sky for the hope of forgiveness. Could I find it in myself to forgive? Even now? Who is there to forgive? Whom would I forgive if given the chance? Not you. Not the gods. Not myself. I trudge along in my forest, hoping to see your face, but it's too dark to see and I'm not even sure that you're in the forest to begin with. I can dream, can't I?\n\nYou were the strong one. You carried the hope. But you still left.\n\nI found a piece of you. Did you know that? After you had gone, when I had nothing left but my own desperate need for hope, I found the hope you had left. You left on the counter in the bathroom. I wouldn't have gone in there if I hadn't heard the small voice you left in my mind. That sweet voice. I still hear it sometimes. When I'm almost dreaming. Before I reach the forest or the beach or some other natural, nondescript landscape. I hear you whispering in the distance. I hear you leaving. You left and now I'm wandering the forest, hoping to accidentally find you or a piece of you or at least hoping not to die this time. I called out your name once. Only once though. Calling out to you gave me hope, and hope is just as deadly as death.\n\nI know where to find you. I know where you are. I know I cannot get to you. I know you wouldn't want me to anyway. I know all of these things and I still hope.\n\nIn the middle of my darkness, in the middle of you, I stop. There isn't anywhere to go once you reach the middle of something. Going back the way you came only leads you to where you were and going forward only leads to somewhere you had hoped to be. Once I reach that somewhere, my hope will be gone, so I stop in the middle. Maybe one day I'll find the courage to continue on to the end, but for now I do what I always do when I end up in the middle of my unrelentingly dark forest - I sit and listen. The city is full of darkness and noise, but the forest is darker and there is no noise.\n\nWhat will happen when I awake? What will happen if I do not awake? What the fuck does it even matter? It doesn't. Nothing fucking matters, but I'll wake up anyway.\n\nAnd I do wake up. I wake up in the city of the fallen sky and I look up at what would be the stars and I see Orion. I looked at Orion; It looked like you.", "My darling, it would disappoint you to see me these days. I can't behave normally, because for me normal has become living with you. I've been reduced to four digits and a colon. \n\nPeople are out during the day, so I'm not. They hold hands or do their groceries together, but we're not there, so I'm not there. I don't cry at it any more. My thoughts are tiny insanely strong magnets rushing headlong towards you, and I can't get a grip. All I can do is shut myself up. \n\nI've swapped cutlery between my hands. Shower in cold. Rearranged the furniture and sleep with my hands around my throat. Anything to cause difficulty, because difficult is a distraction and I don't care about difficult. All day I'd lie in bed, checking the time, and at night I'd climb up onto the roof. Hook myself onto the ladder with my toes, and lift my arms above my head. I'm so dead, and you don't even know. You won't even believe me. Something sick makes me smile when I balance on the cold rust. The fact that it probably couldn't take my weight in ten years is a strange comfort. When weak enough I'd climb back down and sleep. I don't want to know anything.\n\nMy body hates me for treating it this way. \"I am young! I am healthy! You can't make me die just because your life has ended!\" It made me take it for a walk. The air was fresh and cool, and I melted away into the rhythm of my breathing, my walking. Streetlights are bright and rude, so I headed away from the city. Eventually I knew I won't ever get back home unless I turned around, so I stopped and stretched and hung my head back. You can see stars, out here. \n\nThe morning will take them away, and I'm never going to leave the house again. I sat down under the closest tree and looked at the Orion. It looked like you. And so I wait, to lose you again." ]	2
What? You want more stipulations? That's the whole prompt.	[WP] By a random happen stance, the alter ego of a super hero ends up dating the alter ego of their direct super villain.	[ "7 years ago, the event called Pandemonium struck and seemingly ordinary human beings gained enormous powers.Some found the gift as a calling, as a responsibility that was bestowed on them from a greater being for a greater purpose. Most, were just trying to further their own agendas. Suddenly, superheroes and supervillains weren't stuff for comic books anymore and the world was thrown into turmoil. \n\n\nEach and every night Ironfist and Silhouette wrestled for control over Central city, to the point where it had become routine. This night in particular was one of the many nights they shared dancing on top of the city lights exchanging glancing blows. Each one trying to one-up the other. Jake was wondering what evil plan Silhouette was going to do again tonight. He smiled to himself and thought that whatever she had in mind he was going to stop her.\n\n\nJake was born and raised in Central City, his father worked for the Central City Police Department and her mother was a clerk in the mayor's office. At an early age Jake's parents instilled good values into him and from the moment he knew he was chosen, he knew the path which he had to take. \n\n\t\nIronfist landed a blow which sent Silhouette flying through the rooftops. She wasn't really into the fight as she was thinking of this guy he was seeing. They had met at a coffee shop when the barrista had mistakenly switched their drinks. They immediately hit it off and nobody can deny they were a perfect fit for each other. She smiled as she thought of him and she wondered if her revenge against this city was really worth it.\n\n\nJane on the other hand, grew up and was raised on a farm outside Central City by her loving grandmother. She did not know much of her parents as they passed away when she was very young. Nonetheless, she felt loved and content. But, it all changed when their farm was appropriated by the local government. Because of this, her grandmother's health rapidly degenerated and in the end all she could do was watch her lay in that hospital bed as she passed away. It was during these dark and lonely days that Pandemonium struck. While some use their powers for the greater good, she vowed that she would exact retribution on the corrupt local government that had stripped her from her peaceful life.\n\n\nUnder the cover of a cloudy night, Ironfist and Silhouette jumped from rooftop to rooftop parrying each other's blows and warrily waiting for that one decisive moment that would determine the outcome of tonight's bout. It was a night like this, Jake thought, where he had finally asked Jane out in a restaurant by the waterfront. The restaurant was called Raison d'être which was French for \"reason for existence\", which Jake thought was fitting as she was the one who renewed his hope each night while he moonlights as this city's protector. That night, three months ago, Jane gave her a pendant with a crescent moon as a gift for him to remember her by.\n\n\nBlow after blow was exchanged as the night wore on. They were at a deadlock, but neither was refusing to give up. It was raining now as the two of them stood on the roof of the theatre eyeing each other. Suddenly, a scream rang through the air followed by a crash. Ironfist looked down and saw that a minivan crashed into the theater entrance and a woman was frantically trying to claw her way out. Ironfist cursed as he took his attention from the accident back to Silhouette but she had already jumped down and had started helping the elderly woman out of the minivan. Due to the impact, the support for the theatre's billboard was damaged and it was on the verge of falling down. Silhouette had managed to get the woman out of the minivan before the support pillars were beginning to collapse. Ironfist had a split second to react as the billboard fell down.\n\n\nThe last thing Silhouette saw was the shadow of the billboard falling down on them, she braced for impact as he hugged the woman determined to shield her from the crash. It was the least she could do. She thought of her grandmother as she looked at the elderly woman's face as the billboard came crashing down. \nShe closed her eyes, as the impact happened. Total darkness. Is this the end? She thought. She tried looking up only to see more darkness. She wiggled her head to check if it was still attached to her necka and she tried to feel her fingertips. Oddly enough, she thought that being dead wasn't all that different. Something glimmered on top of her. She squinted her eyes and tried to adjust the darkness. It was a crescent moon. She was finally adjusting to the darkness when she saw a face smiling at her. \"You owe me one\". Ironfist said as he shouldered the billboard, pendant hanging on his bare chest. Realization struck her. \"Jake?\"\n" ]	1
#INCLUDE anything.h	[WP] A thrilling story with a twist ending, but written in a programming language of your choice.	[ " // \n // Log key events and echo everything once the story concludes.\n // \n window.logging = true;\n if (!window.jQuery)\n throw \"Someone left out a bloody library. Guess which! Or just, um, Ctrl+F for this exception within story.js\");\n // \n // Add method for firing ranged weapon. Why the hell isn't something like \n // this standard yet?\n // \n $.extend(true,\n Human.prototype,\n {\n fire:\n function(at) {\n var weapon = this.find(\"weapon[ranged]\");\n if (weapon.length) {\n if (!weapon.filter(\"[equipped]\").length)\n weapon.eq(0).equip();\n return weapon.fire({ target: at }); // Deferred\n }\n return $.Deferred().reject()\n }\n }\n );\n //\n // Instantiate key actors.\n //\n // The Human constructor checks if (this instanceof Human) and if not, \n // it re-calls itself, passing its own arguments; ergo the \"new\" keyword \n // is not necessary, which is nice because I've always found it to be \n // just the slightest bit ugly.\n //\n // This pattern is followed for the majority of constructors.\n //\n Peter = Human(\n {\n role: \"protagonist\",\n career:\n {\n type: \"politician\",\n title: \"President\",\n employer: $(\"nation[id='United States']\")\n }\n }\n );\n //\n // SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER\n //\n Jane = Human(\n {\n role: \"antagonist\",\n career:\n {\n type: \"politician\",\n title: \"Vice President\",\n employer: $(\"nation[id='United States']\")\n }\n }\n );\n agent = Human({ role: \"protagonist\", weapons: [ Gun(\"P99\"), Gun(\"AR-15\") ] });\n assassin = Human({ role: \"antagonist\", weapons: [ Gun(\"Glock\"), Gun(\"FN-SCAR\") ] });\n //\n // We may now begin our tale.\n //\n Bill = Law(\n {\n author: Peter,\n type: \"economic\"\n }\n );\n Jane.oppose(Bill).done(\n function() {\n // \n // No-op.\n // \n }\n ).fail(\n function() {\n var success = false;\n Jane.associates(\"[crime='assassination']\")\n .each(\n function(i, e) {\n if (e.is(\"willing\")) {\n e.assassinate(Bill);\n }\n }\n );\n if (!success) {\n Jane.say(\"Ah, well. The lobbyists'll repeal the damn thing in a year or two.\");\n }\n }\n );\n $(window).trigger(\"story-start\");\n\n----\n\n //\n // LOG START\n //\n Peter.append(Bill);\n Jane.oppose(Bill).fail(\n function() {\n Jane.associates(\"[crime='assassination']\")\n .each(\n function(i, e) {\n if (e.is(\"willing\")) {\n var opposing = $();\n for(var j=0;j<10;j++) {\n var current = assassin.clone();\n current.employer = e;\n opposing = opposing.add(current);\n }\n opposing.assassinate(Peter);\n }\n }\n );\n }\n );\n //\n // Ensuing events:\n //\n opposing[2].fire(Peter); // FAIL (MISSED)\n var agents = $();\n for(var i=0;i<10;i++) {\n agent.clone();\n agents = agents.add(agent);\n }\n agents[0].fire(opposing[2]); // SUCCESS\n opposing[3].fire(agents[0]); // FAIL (MISSED)\n opposing[1].fire(agents[0]); // FAIL (NON-LETHAL)\n opposing[0].fire(agents[0]); // SUCCESS\n agents[2].fire(opposing[3]); // FAIL (MISSED)\n agents[3].fire(opposing[1]); // SUCCESS\n agents[4].fire(opposing[0]); // SUCCESS\n agents[6].fire(opposing[6]); // SUCCESS\n opposing[4].fire(agents[1]); // SUCCESS\n opposing[5].fire(agents[3]); // SUCCESS\n opposing[7].fire(agents[2]); // FAIL (MISSED)\n opposing[3].fire(agents[2]); // FAIL (MISSED)\n agents[4].fire(opposing[4]); // FAIL (MISSED)\n agents[7].fire(opposing[4]); // FAIL (MISSED)\n agents[1].fire(opposing[3]); // SUCCESS\n agents[2].fire(opposing[4]); // SUCCESS\n agents[4].fire(opposing[5]); // SUCCESS\n agents[5].fire(opposing[5]); // FAIL (MISSED)\n agents[6].fire(opposing[7]); // FAIL (MISSED)\n agents[7].fire(opposing[7]); // SUCCESS\n agents[8].fire(opposing[7]); // SUCCESS\n agents[9].fire(opposing[7]); // SUCCESS\n opposing[8].fire(agents[2]); // SUCCESS\n opposing[8].fire(agents[2]); // SUCCESS\n opposing[9].fire(agents[4]); // SUCCESS\n agents[6].fire(opposing[8]); // FAIL (MISSED)\n agents[5].fire(opposing[8]); // FAIL (MISSED)\n agents[6].fire(opposing[8]); // SUCCESS\n agents[6].equip(opposing[8].weapons[1]);\n opposing[9].fire(Peter); // FAIL (MISSED)\n opposing[9].fire(Peter); // FAIL (NON-LETHAL)\n agents[6].fire(opposing[9]); // FAIL (NON-LETHAL)\n var intel = agents[6].interrogate(opposing[9]);\n //\n // intel == { employee: opposing, employer: Jane, motive: { type: \"opposition\", to: Bill } }\n //" ]	1
	[WP] - A woman is the only person working the night shift at the city morgue, when suddenly she hears a banging from one of the caskets.	[ "Most people say that they wouldn't choose a job in a morgue but here I am and it's almost four in the morning. It's not like I like dead people or got this creepy thing for morbid stuff but if I light a joint right now, no one's going to complain. It's fairly laid back and not too bad a job working at the morgue in Dumaguete - the city of gentle people. No assaults or motor accidents tonight like most nights.\n\n\nEveryone is asleep, including the living. I think about how good life is as I tuck into my fifth joint. I skip to the next dubstep track but I just can't find the right smooth track. Ah one of my favourites. I wait for the fade in of the mix but then it occurs to me that the beat I've been listening to was coming from outside my earphones.\n\n\nMy heart skips a beat.\n\n\nI take off my earphones and instantly hear the obvious, dull, metallic banging coming from the wall of drawers. I am freaking the fuck out. I hit my head with the base of my palm hard repeatedly. I snap my fingers quickly so I can confirm that I'm actually hearing correctly, that I'm not imagining things. What. The. Actual. Fuck... I am way too high to get help. I am not losing my job just because I'm losing my head. Alright do I have rope? I have a ball of yarn from when I was knitting earlier, ack it will have to do. All I need is a little peak if there's a person or a zombie in there. Just a little crack to see if there's a live talking person or a gross rotting zombie. I double up the string to make it thick and tied it around the handle of the drawer. I know the roll will be smooth so I shouldn't tug too hard. I position myself at the farthest point in the room. I steel my nerves. I am ready. Suddenly the banging stops but my hand has already retracted, I feel the resistance on the make shift rope and the drawer slides forward an inch, two inches. Two and half inches. A stink wafts over slowly through the cool morgue air. After all that senseless muted banging the silence was unbearable.\n\n\nMy hands are cold and clammy, my ears feel prickly and I can hear my racing heartbeat. I am so high. Quietly, I hear something rustle in the drawer. My heart feels like it's going to jump out of my chest. No one is crying out to be let out. There can only be a dead person in that drawer. Instead of my life flashing before me, hypothetical situations race in my mind, how my crime scene would be investigated, puzzled detectives and coroners wondering how the fuck I died but it should have been so obvious that my throat was ripped out by a zombie that came out of that fucking empty drawer. How will they inform my family? Oh god they'll know I've been smoking in here the whole time! \n\nI hear a light tapping on the metal. I feel faint - but I need a weapon! Will a stapler do? Maybe if I stab the head with keys...? From the edge of the drawer I see something move and out crawled a big, magnificent black, furry rat.\n\n\n\n\nEDIT: I added more story and now there is more story.", "(Just realized the prompt was for a morgue, hope this still qualifies. Oops...)\n\nKnock. Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock.\n\n\"Hello?\" Lucy called out. She walked over toward the sound of the gentle knocks. If she didn't know any better, she would think it was coming from the coffin at the front of the room. But that would be crazy, right?\n\nKnock knock knock\n\nThey were fast this time. A bit rapid. You could almost say they were impatient. They made her jump with how fierce they were. Like they were angry. \n\n\"Who...who's there?\" She squeaked out. Lucy's heart was pounding in her throat. If it got any louder it would drown out everything around her. All she wanted to do right now was prepare this damn funeral for her clients tomorrow.\n\nShe'd asked Charlie to bring up the body and prepare it in its casket. The lights were all on, the flowers were set up. The big flashy picture of Mr. Romero was on its stand three feet to the right of the center of the coffin just as she'd asked. Most of the chairs were set up as they should be. 55 on each side, just right. Plenty of room for people to sit. \n\nAll that was left was the body. Which was what she was going to check to make sure it was there as she instructed about an hour ago. She was almost there, when the knocking-\n\n###BANG\n\nA loud thump reverberated through the room. Making Lucy almost scream, she actually kind of did. But she stifled it quite well with her hand. Her other hand went to her chest to hold her heart in place. Just in case it decided to quit this scenario and nope the fuck out on her. \n\nShe walked closer to the coffin, which was still closed and somehow didn't open with that last blow. She could've sworn that she saw it shake and slightly jump with that last blow. But it still seemed so serene, so silent, so dead, in its place. 4\n\nLucy was just about two feet away from now. With one more step she could reach out and touch it. But did she want to? Not really. If it were up to her she would just leave and go find Charlie.\n\nCharlie...\n\n\"Charlie, get the fuck out of there?\" She spoke. Trying to sound demanding. \n\nSilence responded to her. \n\n\"Charlie...now.\"\n\nA muffled sound came from the casket.\n\nShe crossed her arms.\n\n\"What?\" She spoke sternly. \n\nThe door to the casket opened and Charlie sat up inside. \"God damn it...\" He shook his head. \"Can't let me have any fun, can ya?\" \n\nLucy pointed to the door at the other end of the room. \"I swear to God, Charlie if Mr. Romero isn't up here and lying pretty in this casket within the next thirty seconds your ass is going to be wishing you were IN HIS PLACE!\" She shouted. \n\nCharlie flinched as her voice rose and hopped out of the casket, almost falling over. He ran to the door being sure to give a quick \"Yes, ma'am.\" As he ran away from her. \n\nLucy brushed her hair once and shook her head as Charlie walked out of the room. \"Unbelievable...\"", " \n\n I kept looking at my hand. It looked all funny. Bones covered by dry skin. No fat at all. Funny. Fascinating. I must have spent a lot of time looking at it, just turning it, looking at the nails, flexing the fingers. Then I looked around, and noticed it was all dark. I sorta, maybe could see through the darkness, but again, everything was very weird. I don't know how to put it. Wrong. \n\nI was in some sort of box. Very comfortable. Surely it was a dream. What else could it be? My favorite pillow was under my head, and I was wearing my best clothes, although they felt bizarrely loose on my frame. \n\nI remembered the car. No. I was sleeping in the backseat of my friend's car. He was driving, because he'd drank less, and I was feeling like a tornado hit the inside of my head. I was drifting in and out of sleep and then a bump. I must be dreaming, I told myself again. Dreaming in the backseat still. But what a weird dream! I could see every splinter, every pattern and twirl of the wood above me, despite the darkness. \n\nEverything smelt funny, like sickly sweet perfume, but I couldn't tell the source of the smell, My mouth... I had something in my mouth. I spat it out and looked at it. It was a piece of cotton. I still keep it, to this day. I know I'll get to use it again someday. \n\nSuddenly, I wasn't as sure about the dream. Maybe it was the smell, maybe that piece of cotton. I pushed, but nothing happened. I tried yelling at first, but my throat hurt and nothing came out. Then scratching. Still nothing. \n\nWhen I knocked, I was relived to hear that the other side was empty. I knocked again. I heard a woman's scream, shortly followed by broken porcelain. \n\n\n------\n\n-059", "Three bangs. Well, more like three gentle knocks. There's only so much you could do when you're in a casket with almost no air to breathe and was probably confirmed dead four hours ago.\r\rTwo knocks. I'm pretty sure I heard someone there. There's no way he, or she couldn't hear, I heard the footsteps and the mumbling.\r\r\"Is there anyone there?\", I faintly heard. That's a woman's voice it seems. I'm not too sure, maybe this casket blocks most of the sound away, or maybe she's just shouting at the door instead of this direction. Too scared to believe there's actually a man here.\r\r\"Hello?\", she asked again. I'm running out of air now, but I try my best to scream. I didn't hear my scream. I guess my lungs are too weak now. Still losing air. Now I heard her footsteps fading away. I don't think she'll open it.\r\rOne knock." ]	4
first time posting here, I just thought of what would go through my head if I was in orbit and watched as everything on earth was evaporated.	[WP] Astronauts in orbit on the ISS watch a 10km asteroid impacting earth.	[ "From here, Earth looks as breathtaking as it ever has. Normally a hectic mix of blue and white intermingled with one another, it's turned now to an exotic dance of reds and yellows, splashed like an abstract painting across the globe. Where there was once a familiarity, everything now looks different. It's refreshing, in a morbid sort of way.\n\nThe asteroid that did this was known. NASA had it on their scopes, the newspapers had written lengthy articles about it that had been beamed to the space station. We'd read such reports before, and like before, we'd believed when NASA said the math showed it missing Earth by a safe margin. The universe is so unbelievably big that the odds of our planet being struck but an asteroid like this are worse than my odds of winning the lottery on the same day that Jennifer Lawrence declares her undying love for me.\n\nBut it happened, dammit. The asteroid that was supposed to miss our planet by 100,000 kilometres slammed into Earth somewhere near Barbados, as best we can tell. The truth is, it didn't matter where it hit, the thing was big enough that anyone that wasn't caught in the initial impact and ensuing tidal waves and earthquakes won't survive long under the nuclear winter that's now descending over the planet.\n\nUp here, all we can do is watch. The escape pods would get torn to shreds trying to penetrate the storms now gripping the place we once called home. And even if we got through them and landed intact, what then? We wouldn't be returning to the place we planet we knew, we'd be returning to a world engulfed in its death throes. Better to stay up here and take in the morbid beauty of a planet's death. We're taking notes, writing down everything we knew and saw. We never found definitive proof of extra-terrestrial life, but who knows? Maybe some day someone will find what we wrote. Maybe someday someone will learn what happened to a little planet called Earth.", "I don't remember the first few moments. I do remember thinking, \"It's up to us.\"\n\nIn instant all of it was gone. Everything the entirety of our past had led up to was immediately destroyed, and with it, Selby and I became the sole speakers for the human race, left alone to shoulder the remaining knowledge of our people.\n\nTo me, that was the greatest tragedy: all that remained was what was in the heads of the two of us, and what was stored in the station's databanks. Petrabytes of human knowledge had been downloaded onto storage for a situtation precisely like this one. When I had accepted this mission, I was not prepared to have this responsibility.\n\nShelby, who wore his heart out on his sleeve in more ways than one, had fallen mute after his guttural, primal shrieks lost way to his throat's limits. In the instant, when everything blinked out, I think what got him most was the sudden loss of humanity, caught off guard by an interstellar hazard. Gnosis came only with time to recoil in disbelief, as we watched every lifeform from our sacred & sole world collectively expire. Shelby's eyes always lit up with love as he'd stare out onto our mother planet, raving about the deep appreciation for being human that one is gifted with the opportunity to watch it from afar. It's not something the mind is set up to experience. Neither is watching your planet of origin be destroyed. Shelby's eyes looked flat now, as if the shine in his eyes were only the reflection of the Earth in his mind.\n\nIt hollowed me out too, but in the shock and confusion, I seemed to be feeling as if it were more important to move forward from that knowledge, to consider what to do with it. As such, I haven't spent much time grieving for my fallen terrestrial kin. Shelby was propped up against the cornermost wall in the viewing room, alternating his infinite stare between the remains of our homeland and the depths of my eyes. I'm not sure what he was seeing in either of them, but he remained mute and still.\n\nIn time, I joined him. We were unprepared to hold the weight of our existence, and eventually, both of us were broken underneath it. In the end, it was neither a bang nor a whimper that accompanied world's end. Instead, all that remained was a stillness that prevaded where life's beauty once was, interrupted on occasion by honest, maniacal laughter of consciousness that has stared long into the abyss of its own demise.", "How something moving so quickly could feel so slow is what got to me the most. The waiting. \n\nProserpine they'd called it. Child of Ceres. An impact with an untracked Asteroid had birthed Proserpine from Ceres and sent her at an intercept path with Earth.\n\nThe scientists had no way of knowing where exactly on Earth the impact will happen but it doesn't matter really. Ocean or land, Europe or Asia, the size of Proserpine ensures the end of our civilisation. \n\nCeres, beloved and protector of mankind, the goddess of the harvest had spawned a hideous child destined to reap a bounty of destruction.\n\nWe've been up here on the ISS for four months now, six weeks to go until the Soyuz was due to take us home. Nobody is coming now of course. \n\nAttempts to deflect the asteroid were unsuccessful. We had three attempts. Two missed the target by several hundred kilometres, one reached to much premature celebration back on Earth. The warhead failed. The weapons that so nearly could have ended life on Earth many times over, could not save us. \n\nSo now we watch. \n\nComms failed with Houston two days ago, staffing levels got less and less until one day nobody answered. I don't blame them. Who the hell would go to work with days left until the end of the world? A genuine apocalypse? Well, me. But I have no choice. \n\nI wonder what they did with all the people in prisons? Did they let them out? Then I wonder why I am wondering that instead of how my parents are. How my dog is. I hope it's quick. At least they'll have that. \n\nNot like me. NASA gave us an estimate of how long the four of us could last up here. \n\nSurprisingly long as it happens. Until the air runs out. Well, more accurately, until the CO^2 overwhelms the chemical scrubbers. Food will last several months if we remain inactive and ration energy and supply use. \n\nI came up with a plan to make those supplies last at least 3 times longer. \n\nI killed the others as soon as Houston stopped responding. Air / 4 or Air / 1? Easy choice. \n\nThey'll eventually fall back to Earth I suppose. As will I. \n\nBut first I have the end of the world to watch. \n\nThe greatest show off Earth. \n\nMaybe I should have waited to deal with the others so I'd have someone to watch this with, but you never know, the strain may have made the others come for me first. Russians can be crazy. \n\nAwesome vodka though, even on the ISS. \n\n\n", "I hate to say it, but it was beautiful in some odd primal way. The rock, barely a speck from here, slammed into the earth and simply vaporized. A cloud of red and black erupted, the entire world covered in a shock wave. Molten rock shot into the air, some of it nearly hitting us, and sprayed back down in a tidal wave. From up here, it looked like a flower blooming. From down there, it looked like a wall of fire was falling. The entire human race was extinct but our team up here, and maybe some people lucky enough to be in underground shelters.\n\nThe planet stayed red for hours before it settled to a fine grey.\n\nThe others left a while ago, just out the airlock.\n\nNever before has nothing looked so inviting.", "\"Tom,\" the voice said, static crackling over the intercom.\n\nExpedition 55 commander, Tom Sparks, opened his eyes in his sleeping chamber. He was confronted with his own reflection; deep lines in the corners of his blue-grey eyes, set beneath graying, close-cropped hair. He tried to blink away the momentary disorientation before he reached up and keyed the mic, \"What's wrong, Dan?\"\n\nHis old friend's voice had that measured calm in it that he recognized from his former life as a military pilot; something was gravely wrong. Tom was already running through the figures in his head, trying to call forward any irregularities he might have noted in recent checks of the station's operations. He was coming up empty.\n\n\"You're going to want to take a look at this. I'm at the [Cupola](http://www.wired.com/images_blogs/wiredscience/2010/11/cupola-iss022e080014.jpg).\"\n\nTom unzipped his sleeping chamber and untethered himself from the wall, then kicked free, sailing through the interior of the station. He gripped handrails and walls as he passed by, maneuvering himself toward the cupola with the expertise of long experience. He saw Dan, floating motionless in front of the large viewport, his face lit with a strange orange light.\n\nTom extended his leg, stopping himself against the wall beside the cupola, and maneuvered himself next to Dan. A tremendous ball of fire was visible on the horizon, its light bright enough to hide the nearby stars. It floated, almost tranquilly, above the earth's horizon, hanging in silence above the pacific ocean. \n\nTom and Dan floated there for a long time, the quiet hisses and clicks of the life support systems the only sound that passed between them. What needed to be said? They floated there together, watching the fireball descend.\n\n\"Should we wake the others?\" asked Dan.\n\nTom only shook his head, and though Dan wasn't looking at him, he didn't press further for a reply.\n\n\"How are we on supplies?\" asked Tom. Dan was responsible for tracking and reporting on the life support systems, food, and water supplies. \n\n\"A year with rationing. Less without,\" Dan said.\n\nTom thought of the hollow faces and empty, ravening eyes of the starving people he'd seen in hot, hellish places in another life. He thought of their wasted bodies, curled up in doorways or on the ground. He thought of hands outstretched and mouths gaping.\n\nThe station's intercom system crackled, the tone indicated an incoming transmission from Houston.\n\n\"ISS, this is Houston, do you copy?\"\n\nThe static was worse than usual and it was difficult to hear the transmission.\n\nTom reached over to the wall panel and keyed the button. \"ISS here Houston, go ahead.\"\n\n\"ISS, we're picking up some unusual signals down here. Do you have anything to report?\"\n\n\"Nothing to report here, Houston, over.\" Tom said quietly, dropping his hand from the panel.\n\nThe flash washed out the inside of the space station with brilliant, white light. Tom shut his eyes, and saw a wall of brilliant, solid white, even through his eyelids. When he opened them again, a massive orange sphere was blooming out of the ocean, a circular line visible, spreading, racing across the ocean and toward the coast.\n\nTom thought of his wife. He thought of the way the sunlight shined through the branches of the oak trees in his yard in Alabama, making shapes and patterns on her face and hair. He thought about the smell of her hair, and about the streak of grey hair that had appeared in her bangs above her right eyebrow a few years ago. He thought about how it only made her more beautiful.\n\nHe thought about his daughter, all grown up and attending a fancy and terribly expensive school in San Diego. He remembered the day he spent six hours putting together a dollhouse for her. He smiled to himself as he remembered swearing at that damned thing all night, trying to assemble it from directions written in Chinese. She'd been so happy when she unwrapped it. His little girl.\n\nHe watched the thin line, the shockwave, barely visible as it moved across the coast of California and headed inland. Saw the smoke already starting to billow up from the flattened ruins of the coastal cities. Watched as it headed east. There was a crackle from the wall intercome. \"ISS, this is Houston, do you copy?\"\n\nNeither man reached for the panel. They watched in silence as the shockwave crossed Texas, heard the static change just a little. Nothing more would be coming from Houston.\n\nWhen the line crossed Alabama, Tom kicked off the wall. \"I'm going to head back to my sleeping pod, Dan. Vent the atmosphere before you head to bed, will you?\"\n\nDan smiled and looked over at his old friend, his eyes shining just a little with tears. \"Sure thing, Tom.\"\n\n---\n\n(Supplemental materials:\n\n[Photo of the view from the cupola](http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2010/11/cupola-iss-images/).\n\n[Asteroid impact simulator](https://www.purdue.edu/impactearth/).\n\n[Article on near earth objects, indicating a dozen or so large ones remain unsighted](http://www.dailygalaxy.com/my_weblog/2013/06/nasa-1000-near-earth-objects-larger-than-one-kilometer-sighted.html).\n\n[NASA's Near Earth Object Program](http://neo.jpl.nasa.gov/)\n\n[Current status of the Urine Tank processors on the ISS](http://spacestationlive.nasa.gov/displays/ethosDisplay3.html)\n\n[Discussion on ISS resupply](http://space.stackexchange.com/questions/2014/whats-the-maximum-amount-of-time-the-iss-can-go-between-resupply-runs). \n\nWhy doesn't Houston in the story know about the asteroid for weeks in advance due to observatories or amateur astronomers? I took dramatic license and pretended those things don't exist.)\n" ]	5
Thought I'd put a small twist on things. Basically a narrative with creativity in what things, small or big, made your day worth writing about.	[WP] Put me in your shoes. Tell my why today is special.	[ "This is the twilight of men's retail and rental: right after the Christmas season, right before three solid months of kids and their parents hogging the store for prom rentals. The ironic thing about your schedule is that those months are when the full-timers get a lot of their vacation hours, but they aren't allowed to use any of it during those times. You hit your vacation hours peak back in December, and corporate's been emailing you about it on a weekly basis, as if you could do anything about it. \n\nMeanwhile, you haven't seen too much of your wife recently, because between your retail jobs, neither of which even acknowledges nine or five (much less schedules you at those hours), you spend most days only seeing each other for a few hours at the end of the day; if you're lucky, you get one day off together on any given week, because she always has Saturdays off and you never do. January and early February weren't too easy. \n\nBut you two planned ahead for this very week. A month ago, you told your boss, \"I'm going to use two vacation days, but I want to take off four days of this one week.\" You crammed about twenty-one hours of retail nonsense between Sunday afternoon and Tuesday night, and then you spent Wednesday through the following Sunday (which he was kind enough to give you as a nice little wrap-up for your mini-vacation) relaxing, working on what YOU need to work on, not a damn thing you're being paid to do. And a bonus--your wife made arrangements at her job so that she had Thursday and Friday off, so you got two days off in a row together. Even though she worked those other three days, you still saw her more during those days than you did the week prior. \n\nEvery day of your vacation, you worked on writing, even if it was just a silly prompt on Reddit and that was it. But today, the last day, was your final hoorah. After you drove your wife to work at nine, you stayed awake and put more genuine effort into your writing than you'd put into your job recently--and why? Because you weren't being paid to be insincere and tow the company line; you were on your own time, a feeling you haven't had in a long time. \n\nThat first draft of a short story that you completed three weeks ago? You reviewed it, revised it, edited it, left yourself a couple pages worth of notes on where to go and what to do. \n\nRandom writing? You did that too! Reddit prompts, drabbles, a segment you'd considered weeks ago but hadn't had the time for? ALL the writing!\n\nUnfortunately, one part of today wasn't so awesome for you; your wife has to work on an essay for class, and she hates writing essays almost as much as you love writing anything at all. You're a bit worried that your efforts to keep her motivated haven't quite worked, but she seems to be in a little better mood about it than she usually is. Maybe she needed those two days as much as you did. Either way, when she's done with that essay, and you're done knocking out ANOTHER three thousand words (total word count for the day), you've got a few more hours left to hang out. If this had been another work day, those hours might have been the only time you had with her. \n\nTwilight's almost over; it's back to work tomorrow afternoon, with prom season picking up momentum and lasting until the next mini-vacation, a trip in May to get a book signed by Christopher Moore (on your birthday, no less). But you can last until then. Your batteries are officially recharged.", "We spent hours laying on that hill, water a few yards from our feet and thick clouds miles above our heads. Today, just today, there was no God, no class, no midterms, no nothing. Just you and me and the reservoir. Love, we spent hours on that hill with the future just out of reach. \n\n.\n\nYour heart was steady against my eardrum and your fingers trailed through my hair. Behind the darkness of closed eyes, I listened to the rush of your steady breath and your halting thoughts of possible jobs and your major and your friends. Your fingers kept pulling strands of hair from my shoulder and I’d have to occasionally pull it back. The red mark below my collarbone is too visible for my liking, but a pleasant reminder of you that I’ll need for the next week. \n\n.\n\nThe sun was bright and hot and beautiful after an eternity of winter, but hunger drew us back to the dorm. I ate that last kiwi and some Thin Mints and lazed on your bed and watched your roommate mess around on reddit on his side of the room. After he left, we cuddled on your solid bed and After he left, we cuddled on your solid bed and After he left, we cuddled on your solid bed and flirted with the idea of sleeping or fucking or food. Sleeping was tossed aside in favor of more interesting activities. After dinner, we lingered perhaps a little too long before you walked me to my car. It was 6:50 when we stopped to kiss in the parking lot and 7 when I actually was on the road and 8:23 when I walked got back to my dorm and showered. But Dear, the sixty or so miles were worth it. You’re my best friend and I don’t see you near enough.\n", "Today started a few times. First when I rolled over, a shoulder poking out under my sheets to be greeted by cold air as I read the small slew of texts reminding me of the show today. I woke for the second time after I had showered, dressed, and driven to the place I call home for the singular room that has formed bonds that serve as steel cabled for my sanity. I woke for the third time as I stepped on stage and felt the ache in my calves from my heels, felt the tremor in my hand flap the paper in it. Today I sang and I did not die. I did not throw up, I hardly messed up, and I returned to the insignificant stage with its fading wallpaper and bagel tables as a front row to read a story. The story was what made today worth it. Every word I spoke was another breath of confidence, and every sentence ended with a fragment of a past identity flaking away. \n\nTo top it off, laying down in pjs later, drowning in a sea of blankets, I was reminded of the purest smile, the most wonderful sight of any day, and the favorite of many moments in an hour. \n\nThat is why today is special." ]	3
	[WP] A man is permanently invisible, and immortal	[ "Would it be any help if I told you the universe was put here for the sole benefit of Man?\n\nThe creator wanted to make a place where we could relax for a lifetime - abundant with food and places to explore.\n\nCreate-d a sun for warmth and plants for food and animals for scenery.\n\nConsider-ed then, why not a world, situated in a corner of a much larger universe, large enough to wonder at, too large to cross, an entire Creat-ion different from all the other places.\n\nCreator worked too long fitting the whole together, consumed with the dream of the larger universe and one coherent mechanic from the small to the large. Sadly, some of the details were lost. The design meant a great age for the universe, some of the patterns didn't hold. Radiation wasn't meant to be harmful, animals weren't considered tasty, humankind wasn't so fragile and short lived.\n\nI was added right at the beginning, to wait momentarily for Earth to arrive, and to introduce and guide all of you to this way of life.\n\nMoments of waiting grew and grew, billions of years I waited for any Earth at all. Then when it came - horror, one of the details was missed - I was transparent! Completely transparent; light, matter, made no impact upon me. I could not move air nor ground.\n\nAs ghost I walked and watched, if only there were such things as ghosts maybe then I would have some company however briefly. Humankind developed and appeared and fought, such fighting, over what? Three generations of a family owning some land? A material that glittered in bright light? And food - always food.\n\nI watched the creation myths, the rise of science, the disappearance of 'God'.\n\nAnd yet I was no ghost. By some mechanism I existed, and by some mechanism bright people hypothesized my existance, and in scarcely three thousand years of striving you had machinery of creation yourselves.\n\nSome of you did. Some of you died.\n\nAnd you traced my existance in the wider worlds and made contact.\n\nThen I understood.\n\nYou were never here to relax.\n\nI was never here to introduce you to your world.\n\nI was here to watch you in your world. Behind the scenes. When you thought nobody was there. How you made decisions, who you trusted, what you did when nobody was looking.\n\nAnd when your machinery fired up, and you hatched, I was to introduce you to my world, from a human perspective.\n\nAnd introduce my world to the hundred thousand years that made you you.\n\n", "ENTRY NUMBER: ∞\n\nDATE: UNKNOWN\n\nMESSAGE:\n\nHow many times have I repeated this cycle? Over and over again, I have watched the birth of this world, yet over and over again I have watched its end. I was surprised the first time this happened - as I saw the last lights in the sky disappear, a great bang flashed across the void signifying the birth of a new age. \n\nIt was interesting, but rather boring as well, to watch the cosmos slowly form itself. But after repeating this cycle, I've gotten used to the long ages. To pass the time, I thought and thought. I created new formulas that even the most advanced species could not comprehend. I've written new laws and rules that turned the universe over its head. Hell, I've even managed to unify the most basic laws of quantum physics and things like relativity, gravity, etc.\n\nOf course, without someone to share it to or write it down, it's meaningless. I've tried plenty of times to tell the species with the most potential - humans. But instead, they've seen this as acts of a higher being, of a god. Not that I entirely blame them, their early minds couldn't comprehend this level of technology and science.\n\nIt's depressing when, in the future, people dismissed these acts of science as \"superstitions\" or \"miracles\". I've actually had a fun experiment in one cycle where I followed the son of a carpenter and used by abilities to do various things, such as turning bread into fish, water into wine, and even restore blindness, heal leprosy, hell, even bring back people from the dead. Of course, he reasoned that it was the powers of \"god\", just like the others. I'm not sure if I should be flattered or saddened that people argue and fight for my sake. \n\nHeh, this device is pretty handy. Able to record and write down several things. Well anyway, this is my last experiment. I've forgotten how long I've lived. I've seen every corner of the universe, visible and invisible. I've seen wonders that will never be seen or replicated until the next cycle. But with this message, I hope that humanity will also learn the secrets of this universe. Attached below are the formulas that explain everything, with notes for the layman in case it's too confusing or advanced. I think I'll take a long nap, maybe for two, three, four cycles.\n\nSo, until we meet again, if we ever...\n\nMESSAGE END " ]	2
See TwitchPlaysPokemon	[WP] A thousand voices control you	[ "I've been here before. Well, one of us has.\n\nI'm complete this time, I'm in control off all of us for once.\n\nI left her teddy bear here when I was her, when we were her and lost. He had the legs but she always gets the mind, she never understands and only wants us to have toys. He runs, she cries, I fight, and they scream. We all watch, he always hurts someone. \n\nThere's the corpse again, the one they made. I could only watch as she got scared and closed our eyes GOD NOT AGAIN\n\nI've been here before, why can't I feel my legs? I wonder if that man laying down has something I can wipe the red off my hands with.\n", "I just want to leave. I just want to have control. Where did it go? Every rational thought I have is quickly ripped away from me the same way I'm ripped from one direction to another. My nose is bloody from the walls I've met, my feet have blisters, and my stomach churns from the endless circles I have walked. It's funny that I would say that. 'Circles that I have walked.' It's true that I have walked them but it has been against my wishes. I'm at a battle with myself and the only escape I can seem to find is that of my subconsciousness thought. Even now I wonder if that will be safe for long. Wait; what's this? I'm getting... drowsy. Maybe I can finally escape... " ]	2
* At what point do we send firearms in to space, and why? * * What makes two opposing sides decide to shoot at each other? In space!? * * How would such a battle even play out? * And such and such. Good luck!	[WP] Write about the very first battle to occur in space as realistically as you can.	[ "Dale propelled him self towards Karen's muffled screams. He froze in the framed entrance to the kitchen area. Clark stood behind her, pinning her in place against the sink, pulling her head back by her golden hair and thrusting into her. Droplets of blood floated from her swollen face as she sobbed in pain. Clark didn't look up, but Karen's eyes met his, an unspoken plea for help appearing on her face. \n\nDale pulled the small metal fire extinguisher off the wall and pushed off hard in their direction. The fire extinguisher slammed into Clark's temple and his body went limp. Karen curled into the corner, hugging herself and crying into her knees. Dale handed her a blanket before moving Clark's unconscious body out of the room, carefully slamming it into the door frame as he left. He had seen the way Clark looked at Diana. Her laugh had been forced around him, her smile fake. He should have kept her safe.\n\nHe duck taped Clark's hands and feet then secured him to a chair. He would have to make a report soon, but his first duty was to make sure Karen was alright. He floated back towards the kitchen. Things would never be the same.\n\n\n_________________________________________________________________________\n\nEDIT: So, I know you mentioned firearms, but I decided to read \"battle\" as \"combat\", and took a different approach to the prompt. I would love some feedback on how to make the imagery better or how to expand upon this first draft.", "It was absolutely and unequivocally the deadliest battle in the history of mankind. You don't miss in space. You hit something else entirely. Worlds millions of light years away were utterly destroyed by \"Pillars of God\", mile long steel beams shot at high speeds, the \"bullets\" of space battles. Quintillions of Life forms never seen, beautiful beings, wiped out before they have even a chance at living, because of some silly supernatural belief. It doesn't even matter who won. The sheer destruction had done something else.\n\nI have awakened, to pass judgement on the humans. I have become death.", "A common theme in those old sci-fi horror movies was that \"in space, nobody can hear you scream.\" That couldn't be any farther from the truth. Everyone is linked by radio at all times. But when you scream, there aren't any other noises to block it out. There is utter silence, a tranquility unmatched on Earth, punctuated by the chorus of a thousand souls.", "\"They're at the historical site sir,\" said Zevra as she looked at the screen on her console. She adjusted the thrusters and the tiny ship moved enough to give her a moment of dizziness. She closed her eyes, reached into her flight suit pocket, briefly looked at her flight commander badge, and pulled out a small pill. She dry swallowed it as her 2nd in command looked on.\n\n\"Uh, Zev, what's going on,\" asked Lenny, his cybernetic hand moved with a quiet servo noise as he rubbed his temple. Why is she so secretive today? I've never seen her so tense. \n\nHe pointed to his headset and said, \"I'm not hearing anything.\" She looked at him, smiled, and mouthed, \"I know.\"\n\n\"Understood. Communications blackout as we enter the jamming zone in two minutes,\" she spoke into her mic. She pulled off her headset and looked around nervously for a moment. \"Can you start the process to land near the historical site but somewhere low like a crater?\" \n\nLenny nodded, \"Sure, sure.\" He paused. \"So are you going to tell me what's going on or will I be forced to read you mind,\" he said with a smile.\n\n\"The Sino-Rus forces took a beating in Saud-Syria today. A real bad one. The war is pretty much won. They're performing a face saving move. They might take revenge here.\"\n\nLenny's eyes went wide, \"Destroy the old Apollo site? Christ, that's petty. Even for them.\"\n\nZevra shrugged, \"Toughguy culture doesn't care about history. They know we do, though.\" She eyed the console and belted herself into her seat. \n\n\"Twenty seconds,\" said Lenny as he did the same. The ship landed with a gentle thud.\n\n\"Do you remember from your training where the extra C3 refrigerant is,\" she asked with a grin.\n\nLenny bent over, opened a panel, and saw a combination lock. Zevra saw his surprise and said \"7-20-69.\" The panel opened with a loud click. Lenny held the a stockless gyrojet rifle in his hand with a growing look of surprise. \"We're a peace mission. Now we have guns?\" He mounted the scope and put the magazine in with a click. He chuckled to himself, \"Always wondered by we supposedly carried extra C3. Its a damn carbonite foam. It can't leak.\"\n\nHe held the weapon for a moment and felt its heft and examined the geometric design cut into its decorative wood panel. The weapon had a retro-future look to it. He assumed it must have been made sometime during the cold war. It was older than his father he mused, maybe older than his grandfather. He handed Zevra her rifle.\n\nZevra tried her headset again. \"Nothing. I tried the emergency channel. The cosmonauts are ignoring us. Suit up,\" she ordered. Lenny got up, saw his spacesuit hanging on the wall, and began putting it on.\n\n\"I still don't believe this,\" he said. \"I've never even seen one of those. I mean, we had guns in basic, but not like that. Just the old AR15's and F2000's.\"\n\nZevra shrugged, \"Guess we're going to have to learn the hard way. At least the scope is modern. The bullets are rocket propelled I think. Trust me, command just told me about this two minutes ago. I didn't know we carried a rifle. I suspect only a handful of people do.\"\n\nOutside, they positioned themselves on the lip of a crater and kept low to avoid being seen. The optics in Zevra's suit connected with the rifle scope and a green light went off in her HUD as she approached rifle range. They watched silently as three cosmonauts approached the Apollo lander's base and the parked Lunar rovers. They noticed that the cosmonauts were wearing hip holsters and carrying cutting tools. One cosmonaut kicked the rover and fell over almost in slow motion. The rover began rolling away. He clapped his hands and then stood himself back up with a low grav leap.\n\n\"What the hell are our orders here,\" asked Lenny. \"This is crazy. Just crazy.\"\n\n\"They jamming us. I can't contact anyone. Command said to shoot if they touch anything,\" she said as she went down on one knee.\n\n\"Jesus,\" he said. \n\nShe carefully lined up the shot and pulled the trigger as her HUD blinked the word \"Fire\" in large pixelated text. The gyrojet bullet silently left the muzzle producing no recoil. The bullet sped towards the cosmonaut who kicked the rover. His body went stiff and he fell over. The other cosmonauts hopped over to him. She fired again and again. Lenny watched as they collapsed. His vision went blurry as tears filled his eyes. \"We're scientists. We shouldn't be forced to do this.\"\n\nThey both looked up at an orbiting Sino-Rus ship that appeared from over the horizon. They squinted as their HUD magnified a porthole on the ship. Inside was a Chinese cosmonaut staring down at them. The ship sped away past the horizon behind them.\n\n\"Okay, lets get out of range of this jammer. The rest is the politicians job.\"\n\nLenny nodded and quietly walked back to the ship. He looked at Zevra before entering the hatch, \"We just started a space war, you know.\"\n\n\"I know,\" she replied as she shut the hatch behind her. \"I know.\"\n\n", "The bullet exited the barrel without a sound. It was entirely surreal, it didn't feel to Jeff as if he'd really fired, he hadn't actually killed another human being... And yet, blood droplets were scattering from Adam's chest as he flailed, limply, into the side of the ISS.\n\nIn the end, getting the gun up here had been nowhere near as hard as Jeff had imagined. It turned out, the hard part was getting it with him out the airlock, without anyone else noticing. It had also turned out to be more difficult than expected to actually pull the trigger while wearing an EVA suit.\n\nJeff wasn't sure what was going to happen now. In the end, it didn't really matter. Adam would never go back to Earth, would never spend another night selling cocaine, would never ruin the life of another child. It didn't matter what happened after this. Jeff was done.\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nI know this probably wasn't what you had in mind, but realistically? I think this is how we'll take violence into space: One tiny step at a time.", "\"Hey, Sergei! How many times have I had to tell you to refill the coffee maker!\"\n\nEver since we built the space elevator, we've finally been able to build rotating space stations that simulate gravity... and this means one all important thing - drip coffee. Glorious black heaven.\n\nBut goddammit, Sergei would drink the whole pot! And not run another one! \n\nWell, I had had enough.\n\n\"What is problem?\" Sergei muttered, \"You refill yourself. Americans think they so special. They think Russians should serve them!\"\n\n\"Jesus Christ, Sergei.. that's not what I'm saying. Just refill the fucking coffee after you drink it all! That's what civilized people do!\"\n\n\"Oh, so you say that Russia not civilized!?\" Sergei stepped up closer to get in Mike's face. \"I'll show civilized with fist in your face!\"\n\nAt that Sergei took a swing; but Mike was faster, and caught it with his left arm and returned a right hook that caught his opponent square on the jaw.\n\n\"Mike, what's going on over there?\" his intercom crackled out an inquiry from his commander.\n\n\"Sergei's gone nuts! He attacked me!\"\n\nJust then, Sergei took Mike down with a tackle and started pummelling his face. Mike was able to roll out and get him into a Jujitsu arm lock.\n\n\"You had enough yet, you commie bastard!?\" Mike taunted.\n\nBut just outside of Mike's sight, Sergei was pulling out something with his free arm... and before Mike knew it, there was a loud bang and he felt a stabbing pain in his shoulder and heard a loud whooshing sound.\n\n\"What... ugh... you... YOU SHOT ME!\" Mike yelled as he fell backwards, his opponent wriggling out and standing over him. \"You brought a gun to the space station!?\"\n\n\"That right, you bastard American. You think the universe belong to you! Well, we not let you think that for long!\" Sergei said before yelling some Russian into his radio. \n\n\"Now you die, American shit.\" \n\nAnd with that he raised his gun for the kill shot... CRACK. Another shot... but Mike didn't feel anything. He looked up just in time to see Sergei collapse to the ground in front of him in a pool of slowly spreading blood. Looking up, Mike could see his commander with a small pistol in his hand.\n\n\"Holy fuck, Mike! What the hell is going on around here?!\" Commander Steve Macellan shouted out from about 30 feet away. \"Hello, Huston. We've got a major problem up here! The Russians have gone crazy and shot Mike. I returned fire, killing Sergei. This thing is rapidly escalating. Request procedural...\"\n\nCRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK\n\nAnd Commander Nicolas Ashton was ripped apart by automatic weapons fire. And another Cosmonaut appeared holding an ultra compact submachine gun. \n\n--------\n\nGround control heard some of it. Both the Americans and Russians received reports from their own personnel in those few frantic minutes before ground observation reported that Space Station 13 had exploded. Early reports indicated rapid decompression and oxygen fire. \n\nDefcon alert levels were raised. Communication breakdown was inevitable in the resulting confusion. At least that's what we can glean from the sparse records that have been recovered from the North American and Russian debris fields. The conflict on the station was easier to reproduce, because listeners from around the world had recorded their transmissions. \n\nThe other 15 space stations had been stranded after the total destruction of the countries that controlled their space programs. 2 of the stations had degraded orbits, and had burned up on re-entry... with the loss of all on board. The rest had remained in orbit until power and systems had failed and radio contact was completely cut off. \n\nBefore that happened, however, what we can piece together told a tale of slow descent into insanity, and perhaps cannibalism. \n\nBut their story almost looks nice compared to the after effects of nuclear war on the ground. ", "Michael felt the metal bar slip away between his chunky fingers. He swung his arms wildly at it, trying desperately to grasp at the cursed thing as it drifted slowly away from him...\n\n...as he drifted slowly away from it...\n\nMichael's muscles relaxed...\n\nHe stilled his arms...\n\nHe never realized how little he felt. \"The Blue Marble\" encapsulated the whole of his peripheral vision... and he was so small. And he felt so little... so little emotion. His EVA suit, an inky black drab riddled with magazine pouches and straps probably weighed close to a hundred kilograms, and yet he felt nothing.\n\nMichael thought of home...\n\nHe looked down at the station's platform. It was a good distance away now. The pressure grenade's blast was strong and it had carried Michael and half of his squad away from the station at quite a great speed.\n\nSome of the others still had some monopropellant left in their suits and quickly made it back to the station. Others, like Michael, simply drifted away.\n\nHe wondered if his squad would have noticed he was gone. The team had been fighting in complete silence since the radio got knocked out. He doubted any of them could see him anyway. With the black camouflage of his suit, there was no way anyone could see him... not at that distance.\n\n'Well I guess this is it...' he thought. He had about 90 minutes of oxygen left.\n\nHe could see the streaks of light dashing across the station, bullets being fired. He couldn't even remember what they were fighting for. One faceless corporation shooting at another faceless corporation. What the hell were these metal hunks in space worth anyway?\n\nHe reached for the suit's control on his wrist to release the oxygen.\n\nBut then the silence was broken. Michael fell into a spin as another body collided into him. The corpse's frozen blood splattering across his visor with several unnerving 'clinks'. Michael reacted instinctively, grabbing at the debris immediately.\n\nHe straightened the body in front of him. The corpse's face was gone, and the body frozen and very much lifeless. Michael paid it no heed. He reached around the back and found what he was looking for, a strap.\n\nHis own had been severed early in the fight. But with luck, this soldier's was not. He followed the strap to what he knew was there. As he reeled it in, it caught the light and glistened just a little.\n\nMichael released the body and grabbed at the prize, wrapping his hands around the pistol grip and pulling the rifle close to his body. His left hand slapped the magazine and he drew the bolt decisively, chambering a round.\n\nHe took aim at the tether that connected his prize to its deadweight and fired.\n\nApart from the muffled click of the rifle's vibration through his body, there was no sound. But the strap was destroyed and with a kick, the debris began to drift away from him.\n\nMichael felt no emotion. He pointed the rifle away from the station and emptied it.\n\nTurning his head, he saw the station begin to get closer. Grabbing at his chest, feeling the velcro patch on his glove stick to the magazine attached to him, Michael reloaded the firearm and chambered another round.\n\nAs his feet hit the station, Michael broke into a sprint, magnets in his boots keeping him firmly planted to the surface.\n\nHis fight was far from over.\n\n-------------------------------------\n\nI just immediately thought of this game where you shoot at each other on the moon with jet packs and stuff. I think it was called shattered earth or shattered horizon or something. I can't quite remember and am lazy to check.\n\nThen I thought of gravity. And then I wrote this. Hope you like!" ]	7
	[WP] Tell us a story about your favorite childhood toy.	[ "Hi. I’m “SOFT STUFFED CAT, BLACK/WHITE #328-4-676K”, but Mike calls me Zip. I’ve been with him for almost 15 years now. Before Mike’s mommy bought me for him, life was so depressing. Watching all the other units get purchased for little boys and girls, seeing them get hugged and kissed and loved…but not me. I thought maybe something was wrong with me. Was I dirty? Misshapen? Why did no one want me?\n\nOne day a woman came into the shop with a little boy, who immediately ran off and started exploring the various rooms of the store. Eventually he came to the room I was in. He stood and stared at my shelf before running off to get his mother.\n\nHe begged for one of us, pleaded with his mother, saying he’ll do chores at home, the typical child who wants a toy shpeal. His mom said no, maybe another time. I was heartbroken, believing that I’d never see him again, I’d never get purchased.\n\nBut the next week, he came, this time with his father. He explored a bit, but came back to my shelf pretty quickly. He asked his father for one of us, too, but he also said no. This continued for about a month before his mom finally gave in and bought him a toy. Me. He picked me! I was ecstatic to finally be picked. This child, this special little boy who just wanted a toy to cuddle with, picked me out of all the others on the shelf!\n\nMy life changed that day. Mike took such good care of me, he washed me when I got dirty, he took me on every sleepover, every vacation, anytime he was going to be spending the night anywhere. Even after he got “too old” for a stuffed toy, he still took me.\n\nYears passed. Mike finished middle school, then high school. Mike fought with his parents, I absorbed his tears. Mike ate chocolate in bed, I got a little brown stain. Nothing would tear us apart.\n\nThen the unthinkable happened. Mike got sent away. He couldn’t live with his parents anymore, so some stuffy-looking people in stuffy-looking clothes took him in a stuffy-looking car, to an airport. But his parents forgot to pack me with the rest of his luggage. I was devastated.\n\nFor almost two years I didn’t see him. I don’t know why, but his parents kept me. So I spent more time, just sitting and collecting dust in their boring guest room that never got used. But one day, he came back. All the way from Oregon, he came back. His parents said they had a surprise for him in my room. He opened the door and was so excited to see me! He ran and picked me up and squeezed me just like he did when he was little. If I could cry, I would have. He was so happy to see me; he said that he thought he lost me a long time ago.\n\nI’m still with Mike. He doesn’t take me when he leaves his home to spend nights with his grandmother, but I sleep with him every night he’s home, and for that I’m so grateful.\nI’m so lucky such a caring little boy bought me so long ago, and very glad to be back where I belong.\n", "Heh. I am actually, slowly working on a story like this.\n\nThere is a place – A world, a quarter turn around the corners of Dream from ours. It is a malleable place. Not solid like ours, but rather forged from the wisps of dreamstuff bound together in the near limitless imagination of a million, million children all around the world. Navigating the place beyond, the world-one-over, is almost impossible - its forms shift too wildly. But there are places, gateways fords and old farie paths that can be used, if you know how to find them. And then are guides available - The natives whose very existence is tied to the world-one-over.\n\nAsk any child about their favourite toy, stuffed animal, whatever, and they will be able to tell you about its likes and dislikes, its personality, its history. The natives of the world-one-over are the dreams of a child made manifest – they are, to a one, the favoured toys of a child. Those that give the most comfort, receive the most love, time attention, what have you. A child will imbue a stuffed animal with a fully-fledged personality of its own. A person - Far too whole and consistent to be anything but. But where does this person go when the child sleeps? To this world-one-over. \n\nThe world-one-over is fluid and changing. But there are solid places- Islands, havens, sanctuaries. Commonalities of dream. They are places that have been dreamed into existence, and that the toys have come to inhabit. Cities and towns are build up around these islands. And they organise. For the world-one-over is not the only other world. \n\nFloppy heard the city horns bellow the triple note call of a new child under their care, and concentrated, and looked inside himself. For the first time in nearly 20 years, the old power within him answered, and he summoned more than starlight into being. Crashing through the doors of his hut, he ran down the street, dodging friends and other residents of the city as he went, feeling the weight of his age falling from his limbs once more. He reached the town square moments behind his friend, Behwuh approaching from the other side of the square, and crashed into each other.\n\n“My friend!” Behwuh yelled in excitement. “You heard the call too! Are we to serve once more?” \nFloppy laughed and embraced his friend. “Another of the line, and us cared for in the time. We are to serve once more. The power returns to my old seams, the magic. And your strength my friend?”\n\n“It comes too.” Behwuh laughed, grinning wildly. “My sword and shield appeared to me again, just as they were before…” His face fell. “Before we were no longer needed. Before we were abandoned…”\n\nFloppy shook his head. “I have told you before my friend – I have never thought we were abandoned, but now I know it for sure. The child is of our charge’s line. We were not abandoned – We were saved to be passed on!”\n\n“You are sure? Then we must find Olliephant. I visited him last month, but you know yourself how little he speaks these long years. How he does little more than exist.” Behwuh shook his head gently. “He took the end of our service much, much harder than either of us.”\n\nFloppy grinned to himself, as he felt a set of vibrations in the cobbles of ground. “I think we need not worry about Olliephant. Unless I’m mistaken, I believe that’s him now.” \nWith a trumpeting and a pounding, the third one in their group of friends and comrades charged into the town square. Floppy, a tall dog in light greys and soft browns, with thin, spindly limbs. Behwuh, A shorter, stocky bear, with more bulk and longer, curlier, golden brown fur. And Olliephant. The largest of the lot. An elephant, decked in dark greys and black flecks. The largest and strongest of the lot, he charged into the square, and very nearly bowled over his friends. \n", "Only Time Will Show and Tell\n\nThere are many childhood toys I could tell you are great. I had two brothers so we had plenty of toys to play with in the 80's. Voltron, Optimus Prime, and He-Man were all great and glorious heroes with powerful and strong names, but none of them actually saved me from anything. I could spend hours playing with them and imagining scenarios where they saved the world from evil.\n\nBut, what about the toy with no name? The hero that was never meant to be a hero?\n\nI still remember waiting for this toy that still has no name. I didn't pay for it like I had to pay for other toys. It was much harder to get, and yet not nearly as desirable as most others. You see, I needed two UPC's from a box of cereal that I don't remember the name of that they don't even make anymore. I needed a stamp, and an envelope, and I needed to write out an address, and the help of a mail lady, and my mom, and money for shipping and handling. I couldn't just go to the store and get this toy. I had to wait until we finished one box of cereal before my mom would buy another so I could get that second UPC. \n\nI had only ever seen a picture of it, printed on the back of that box of cereal I couldn't tell you the name of. I didn't even care about eating the cereal, I only cared about a small square of the cardboard it came packaged in.\n\nI remember going to school that day. I was in kindergarten. I remember walking into the classroom and immediately realizing something was wrong. No! Today was show and tell and I forgot to bring something! Panic set in. What was I going to do? Show and tell was the greatest day of the week, or month, or however often we did it. I can't even remember. Thoughts of being embarrassed flooded my tiny head as I imagined having to tell the class that I did not have anything to show them. How could I have forgotten? I had no other responsibilities as a six year old. And then I looked down at my wrist. Alas, the answer to all of my problems. \n\nA watch. Not just any watch, though. It was an elephant watch. Green, to be exact, with a cloth band. Underneath the plastic green elephant head was the time, displayed in digital format since I didn't now how to tell time on an analog clock yet. The tiny plastic hinges seemed sturdy for plastic. It was not just any watch, though. It was my first watch. It was the first time I had ever worn it, and soon I was going to show it to everyone and tell them all about it.\n\nEDIT\n\nI found the cereal. Here is a picture of the box and the watch from the back of the box.\n\nhttp://www.flickr.com/photos/jasonliebigstuff/4171564766/\n\nHere is a commercial for the cereal.\n\nhttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tv2f9pBeCMY", "As far back as I can remember, I always wanted one of those miniature, hand-held, electric fans. I don't know what it was about them that entranced me so much, certainly it wasn't their fanning capabilities since I grew up in a place not known for its heat waves. There was just something so alluring about the tiny, motorized thing, and it didn't help that they seemed like they were impossible to find in stores. They were more one of those things companies hand out as a merchandising promotion. \n\nFor years I yearned for one of these fans. I told my parents I needed it, I had to have it. For years I suffered without the cool breeze generated by it's tiny foam fingers, spinning with the gentle hum that was rivaled only by the symphonies of Haydn, Bach or Beethoven in its beauty.Until one day, my father returned from a business trip with a bag of goodies for us kids. \n\nIt was always the same crap, foam visors, t-shirts, maybe a rubber ball if we were really lucky, all plastered with some horrendous logo of an obscure company we had never heard of. Never-the-less, it was always exciting to dig through the pile of crap and see what plunder we had scored. This time was no different as my sister and I rummaged through a bag of goodies, hearts racing at the possibility of some great score. Then I saw it, at the bottom of the bag, it shone bright like some luminescent fish in the murky depths of the ocean. I pulled it out of the bag and looked at it in awe. It was neon blue, with off green fan blades and was translucent so I could see its magnificent inner workings, to me, the apex of human technology. This was the happiest I have ever been in my whole life. This was it, my peak. But I would soon learn that once you reach the top, you can only go down, and down I went.\n\nFor an hour I sat at that peak, accompanied by my glorious machine. I ran all over the house, showing anyone who would give me the time of day. I fanned myself endlessly, despite it being a cool winter evening, and listened to that beautiful hum. I tickled myself with the soft foam blades and watched the motor turn tirelessly. Then came the moment that I have never forgotten. I remember it vividly, as if it were yesterday, I stood at the top of a large set of stairs, the physical manifestation of the peak of my peak, the moment before it all came crumbling down. I held the small fan in my right hand and, still brimming with excitement, gently swung my arms as they hung by my side. I still don't know what brought me to be standing their, and it would be a question I asked myself for some time to come afterwards, but there I was, standing and swinging my arms. That's when the fan slipped out of my hand and I watched it as it hit six steps before exploding into a hundred pieces on the hardwood floors of the hallway below. \n\nImmediately, I broke down into a fit of crying and screaming. I was sad that I had lost that which I had wanted for so long. I was angry too, at the world, at the stairs, at everything. I had waited years for that fan and had only had it for an hour before having it ripped away from me. I learned an important lesson that day, life is a grim place that will do whatever it takes to make you as miserable as possible. My whole outlook on life changed that night. At 10 years old I had become a hopeless cynic and from that moment on I never let myself get too attached to anything for fear that as soon as it made me happy it would be torn away from me, only to make me more miserable than I had been before." ]	4
I don't care how good it is, how bad it is (which none of them will be), long, short, poem, story. Write for me that one piece you've had stuck in your head. You know the one I'm talking about. If its just an idea right now, type of the premises of it, like the back of a book or an idea you're pitching. Maybe its the beginning, middle or end. Just start writing, don't delete it. It will be great.	[WP] Write for me that one piece that you've always wanted to write.	[ "Kada had been sitting inside the tiny, freezing, dark interrogation room for over seventeen hours awaiting what was to come next. The Private Military Organization who built and owned her were only able to cover up so much of their tracks, The elite group of soldiers (Zero Breaker) she fought with are now dead or also locked up. No one except her partner, Mark Vargas, and the group of engineers who built her knew that she was an android.\n\nJust as the eighteenth hour was creeping on, there was a rattling at the door behind her. \n\nA light in the middle of the room turned on.\n\nA completely empty, metal room.\n\n\"Alright, I want to do this as fast as possible.\" A man said. He walked around Kada with a folder in one hand and a chair with the other. \"I know who you are, so I pretty much know already half about you... You're just gonna fill me in on the rest.\" He said. \"So it's not worth trying to pull anything with me.\"\n\nKada with along with everyone in Zero Breaker has a double identities. Kadas' back story was that she worked on the USS John F. Kennedy when the United States was invaded by the Chinese, and that she already has a past with the U.S. military. \n\nBut Kada couldn't seem that she was actually American.\n\n\"I'm sorry that JFK was sunk at the battle of Shanghai, it's a shame that thousands of men and women died for nothing.\" The man set the chair down in front of Kada. The man was a clean cut guy, who looked no older than forty. \"You and the Sons of Liberty are finally being cracked down on and taken out. I just need to know what your motives are.\" The man sat down in the chair and opened up the folder. \"But first things first.\" He pulled out a paper. \"Who is this man?\" He held out a paper that had a photograph of Mark. \"I understand his name is Franklin Stanendrum. Am I correct?\" He asked.\n\nKada glanced at the photo and turned her head away.\n\n\"You know him, don't you?\" The man asked. \"Where. Is. He?\" \n\n\"You'll never find him.\" Kada said in a thick Russian accent.\nThe man made a confused face and lowered the paper. \"After the nuke in Shanghai, he disappeared. I haven't seen him since.\" \n\n\"What's with the accent?\" The man asked. \n\n\"What's wrong with it? I'm not American.\" Kada turned her head to the man.\n\n\"Are the fucking Russians in on this?\" The man was becoming visually uneasy.\n\n\"No, not at all. I represent no country.\" Kada narrowed her eyes at the man.\n\n\"Why were you wearing an American uniform? Who are you?\" The man set down the folder and the paper on the ground. \n\n\"You don't know do you?\" Kada leaned towards the man to intimidate him. \"I'm saving your country from a greater evil.\" She sat back up. \"I'm sure you have heard of '1999'?\" Kada asked.\n\n\"Yeah? What about it?\" The man asked. \n\n\"He is the reason why the Chinese is invading Europe.\" Kada said in a low voice. \"They're looking for him, he has all the information the Chinese need to know about the Sons of Liberty.\"\n\n\"1999 is a person?\" The man asked. \"More or less, he is a walking computer hard drive.\" Kada replied. \"Me and Franklin were looking for him in Shanghai when your government thought it was a good idea to invade China in retaliation for their invasion seventeen years prior.\" The man straightened his face out to look more serious.\n\n\"Who do you work for?\" he asked calmly. \n\n\"Front Towards Enemy.\" Kada lowered her shoulders in response to the mans calmness. She also had been evaluating the mans face trying to find out who he is. \"I am not your enemy Agent Moreno, the Chinese are a threat to everybody, you and me have the same mission.\" \n\nThe man said nothing more and got up. \"I- I need to go.\" He said.\n\n\"We are wasting time the longer you are keeping me here Agent Moreno.\" Kada said as the man left the room.\n\nThe door slammed behind her as Kada let out a sigh.\n\nHer story was complete bullshit but somehow Moreno fell for it.\n\n'Cheif are you there?' Kada asked using a device built inside of her head that allowed to her to communicate over a network. \n\n'Yeah I'm here.' Mark replied.\n\n'Did you find out where I'm at?' \n\n'You're in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, I'm guessing your on a ship.'\n\n'How far out?'\n\n'You're about five hundred kilometers off from the Philippines.'\n\n'Damn.' \n\n'I don't know when I can get to you, just hang tight.'\n\n'Alright, I'm counting on you Chief, I don't know how long I can keep this up.'\n\nJust then the door rattled open again and this time a woman walked around Kada. \n\n\"Roslyn?\" Kada asked. \n\n\"Hey Annie, I heard you changed your name.\"", "*Human. You have been found guilty of crimes against nature. How do you plead?\n\nI don't know what the hell you're talking about\n\nI sentence you to forced labor. Next.\n\nShuffle on one.\n\nIn the hallway outside the courtroom, I sat at the end of a quickly shortening line, waiting for my impending doom. The fact that I was suddenly a convict was not helping. \n\nI was called for \"jury duty\" at a \"courtroom\" near the coast. Perfectly normal. However, when me and the 50 other jurors entered the warehouse, the doors slammed shut and gas filled the room. We woke up in a holding cell...underwater. Still breathing, mind, but it was not exactly a magical atmosphere. \n\nHuman. You have been found guilty of crimes against nature. How do you plead?\n\nFuck this shit! Get me out of here!\n\nShoot him.\n\n...What a waste. Clean the room then send the next one in.\n\nShuffle on one.\n\nA guard in patrol swam past, harpoon at the ready. It leered at me. I said nothing. My neighbour leaned towards me as if to say something. The next thing I know, her body was pinned to the wall with a confused expression on her face.\n\nShe barely made a sound.\n\nThe guard ripped the harpoon out of the body and reloaded its gun. Blood floated out of the hole in my neighbour's chest. My stomach acid threatened to come up as two more guards carried the body and pierced heart away, revealing a hole in the dead woman's shirt where there was once flesh and spine.\n\nHuman. You have been found guilty of crimes against nature. How do you plead?\n\nWhat the hell am I doing here? I didn't do anything wrong!\n\nThe evidence speaks to the contrary. Your brutal genocide can go on no longer.\n\n...\n\nI sentence you to forced labor. Next.\n\nShuffle on one.\n\nThere is one window in the hallway, and I'm now sitting across from it. Outside I can only see jagged rock, embedded in it with multicoloured crystals. Perhaps a sort of metal ore. Listening closely, I can hear the faint clink clank of metal on rock...accompanied by the occasional scream. My attention is suddenly drawn to the sound of many feet on the floor. A long single file of scared, anxious people came walking down the hallway, flanked on every direction by guards. At the guard's motion, they sat behind me on the long bench to condemnation. \n\nThe newly arrived guards went up to the one who killed my neighbour. They chatted, laughed, then chatted some more. Then they stopped and looked at the line of people sitting on the bench. They paced up and down the line, then stopped at one particularly skinny man. Pointing at him, they dragged him back the way he came. No-one knew what was going on. \n\nA sudden shriek pierced the air. It was like the squeal of a pig getting turned to pork. Prideful laughter could be heard, continuing even after the screams stop. \n\nSilence.\n\nThen the guards reappear, pulling the man behind them.\n\nA ziploc bag covered his head.\n\nHuman. You have been found guilty of crimes against nature. How do you plead?\n\nI demand a retrial...please?\n\nDenied. I sentence you to forced labor. Next.\n\nMy turn.", "\"I've always wanted to tell him how I felt. Every single day. The thought of losing him is so painful that it causes me to have horrendous panic attacks, even when he's standing right in front of me. My emotions are so raw and run so deep, I feel like I could be torn apart with how I feel. \n\nIt's never mattered what he's done. Sometimes he hurts me- it's never been intentional- and I just accept it because I love him too much to be upset by it. I love him and I always have. From the first time we met. How did we meet, you ask? Well, it's an odd story, certainly.\n\nI had just enlisted in the United States Army (I was 17) and was with my company for the weekend. I was always there for the weekends. I was still in school. I know, I know, I'm veering off track. I'm sorry, okay? I was supposed to get my squad leader a bottle of water from some vending machines downstairs. That was my mission.\n\nThe vending machines were broken. It wasn't too big of a deal. So I thought. I went back upstairs and walked into the cramp, stuffy room that everyone was piled into. After reporting my findings to my squad leader, he gave me a long, hard look. \n\n\"Private\" he began. \"What the fuck are you talking about? Quit being an idiot and go to the PX.\" Nothing further was said yet everyone was laughing at me. I had no idea what* the PX was or even where I could find it. \n\nThat was when I first heard him speak. My love. He went up to my squad leader, offering to show me where the PX was because he needed to grab something to eat- my love had missed chow earlier that day. \n\nPermission was granted.\n\nSilently, the two of us walked downstairs together and walked out to the great outdoors. The sun was shining brilliantly, perhaps it was too sunny. It was just a few degrees too warm but there was a lovely, gentle breeze which caused the grass (and weeds) to drift lazily, happily with the wind. It smelled like the best spring day but it felt like an early summer day. \n\nAs soon as we were outside, my love looked at me. \"Don't worry, I'll take care of you. I'm Joshua, by the way.\" Those were the first words he ever spoke to me and I'll never forget them.\n\nI'm sorry, Doc, but I honestly don't know what this has to do with the current problems at hand. What are my panic attacks about? Well....\n\nI'm always afraid of losing him. Terror grips my heart and lungs when I feel as if he's in danger. I've never been more afraid for someone in my life before. Imagine how you would feel if your heart was ripped out, stabbed multiple times and your lungs were punctured with you just laying there, trying so hard to breathe but absolutely unable to. Imagine that, Doc. That's how it feels. When the attacks come, I see nothing but dark oblivion.\n\nIf he's still alive but not mine, I can deal with that. As long as he's alive, happy and safe, I honestly don't care. Even if he's dating some other woman (or man, even) I would be okay as long as he is as well. It's the thought of him no longer existing, Doc. That's what my panic attacks and nightmares are about. It looks like our session is up though so we'll just have to pick it up next time.\"", "A young man, stoic, stared down the barrel of a gun. With a slight tilt of his head, the man's eyes met the eyes of his executioner. His stone face melted, and he couldn't help but laugh.\n\n\"It's funny,\" he said looking down at the snow, \"life takes us on such a ride.\"\n\nHis executioner remained silent with a face as hard and unyielding as the winter wind. His gloved hand tightened around his gun, but he let the dead man speak.\n\n\"You never know where it'll take you,\" the young man said, shaking, either from the cold or from the fear, \"where you'll finally end up.\" \n\nHe looked up, smiling in the face of death.\n\n\"Despite all that's happened John, I hope you and I can share a drink on the other side.\"\n\nJohn's eyes softened. He kept the gun trained on the dead man.\n\n\"Keep a seat warm for me then,\" John said, cocking back the hammer of his gun, \"I'll probably be right behind you.\"\n\nThe shot echoed through the cold silence of the woods. John slid the gun back into the holster on his side before turning around to report back to the captain. He left the body for the crows. \n\nJohn walked back as the towering trees whispered accusations in the wind. That's what war is though, so he walked back to the front-lines taking in as much of the winter's silence as he could. Tomorrow he would be listening to the sounds of guns and of dying men.\n\n", "All my life, I waited to see,\n\nWhat the world would contain.\n\nAnd then I opened my eyes with glee,\n\nOnly to have them met with disdain.\n\nI couldn't believe a world so impure,\n\nCorrupt, defiled, and vile,\n\nCould exist, and so I was unsure,\n\nIf continuing on was worthwhile.\n\nBut I'd only ever get one chance,\n\nIt would be a shame for it to go to waste,\n\nAnd so I trudged forward, and glanced,\n\nAt the world which I now faced.\n\nThe time passes so quickly now,\n\nIt felt as if it had always been,\n\nThe frowning faces and how,\n\nEveryone here sinned and sins.\n\nAnd yet it is only of late,\n\nThat I have stopped to see,\n\nThat there is hope yet for this fate,\n\nFor everyone is undeniably free.\n\nWith that freedom comes will,\n\nThe will to live and breathe,\n\nThe push forward may be uphill,\n\nAnd many will surely concede.\n\nBut such is the life we lead,\n\nOverrun with despair and strife,\n\nAnd yet we continue to exceed,\n\nThose that have already lived their life.\n\nAnd now I have finally lived my share,\n\nThe world will bid me adieu,\n\nIn these last moments I'd like to just stare,\n\nNot at myself, but at you.\n\nThese, my final words to speak,\n\nMy final message to those who hear it,\n\nThe world is not so awfully bleak,\n\nSo I beg of thee to endear it.", "-068\n\nThe first thing one must learn when being born into a house of predators, is that cannabilism is always an option.\n\nMy earliest memory was of my mother bottle feeding my two younger siblings--the twins. I was tiny. I didn't understand how the world worked. I didn't understand what loss was, even though, by this time, one sister and one brother had already died. There were two more out there in the world. A broken one and a coward.\n\nI never liked playing with toy cars. My younger sibling did. His blue eyes, blond hair, and quick smile made him mother's favorite. The rest of us were dark and brooding. We watched her. We watched him. We were a wall of glittering eyes. I played with him, moving toy cars through the dust or across the hardwood floor. Mother loved him, and like some B movie mad scientist, I observed him to discover why.\n\nHe wasn't particularly bright. I thought his blond curly hair was stupid. He couldn't even comb it out. Our hair in our family was stiff and thick. I don't know if it was the Italian blood, the Portugese blood, the Cherokee blood, or the Choctaw blood. All I knew, was that our hair, and his especially, was like wire--coarse and abrasive.\n\nMom broke down one day. Her brother Vincie, of whom she had bragged, had burned down his door factory for the insurance. He'd gotten caught and went to prison. I was intrigued and curious how he got caught. Perhaps my fascination with trying to improve on his crime. My younger sibling wasn't impressed or fazed by this news. He just smiled and went about his play.\n\nWe didn't stay kids forever. We got together, put some numbers down on paper, and realized, being a kid sucked. In the fall of my ninth year, mom got tired and living and decided it was time to die. Brain tumors was the ultimate cause, but I knew my brothers and sisters pretty well, and chocked up her death to her just being worn out. We weren't the easiest family to manage. A manager was what she was. She raised the money that fed us. She won the toys we played with. She was the glue. She held us together. She was the frustrating trainer that made us balance treats on our nose until she gave the command for us to eat. If you knew my brothers and sisters the way I did, then you will understand that who she was in reality was more akin to Cerberus. She kept the evil from escaping into the world. When she died, nothing held us back.\n\nIt was Pandora's Box all over again. Mom was the lid. She went in the grave, and we migrated into the world as a swarm of glittering eyes. There was so much to touch, so many people to know, so many sins to commit, and we committed so many. Even the walking blond strip of velcro himself. Though, he seemed more interested in destroying himself. He was so weak. While the others were out bending the world to their whims and wills and perversions. I fixated on him. My dear baby brother.\n\nYou ever look at an ant crawling across the ground and hesitate with your finger above his back wondering if you should squash him. For years, my finger hovered above my little brother's head, and I struggled with that compulsion. I didn't mean to kill him. I wouldn't have. The other's would have devoured me. No. I just wanted to make him as horrid as the rest of us.\n\nWhen you're born in a dark place and live in a dark place and see only darkness your entire life, a beacon of light hurts your eyes. Mom's death was hard on him. Dad's death, was just as cruel. His blue eyes staring out from beneath that blond mop was so painful to see. The girls thought him beautiful. He never lacked for women. It was a cruel thing to me, who was homely, and dark, and malevolent.\n\nI watched the light in his eyes dim as he turned to alcohol, and whiskey, and fighting. That was his thing. He fought everyone and won. He drank everything and staggered. I watched a beautiful pillar of hope slowly implode. The top caving in, and I thought this a good thing, until the light went out. \n\nHe died in a car wreck outside Kansas City six months before his twenty-first birthday. He told us he'd never reach twenty-one. He was always making prophetic statements like that. When mom died, before the hospital called, he woke up crying saying mother was dead. When dad died, we found him sitting in an empty bath tub bawling his eyes out at two in the morning. He already knew, and on the day we buried him, we all came like vultures and stood about his grave and pretended to mourn him. \n\nWe always joked that he was special, and he was different. We had always been so sure of the world. The world was a dark place to be devoured. The innocents in the world our hors d'oeuvres. But, when we saw the date and realized our other brother died on the exact same day twenty-two years before. We started paying attention to the small print. They were the only blonds. They both had hundreds of people who showed up to see them buried. We were jealous. We, who had no one, finally realized that we were the reason the world was so dark. \n\nWe had spent our entire lives devouring everything good. We had left men and women in our wake whom we had convinced we were worth loving, then callously left after plundering their bodies. I was twenty-two when my little brother died, and the date on the grave stone had special meaning to me. I think I'm the next to die. I've thought and dwelled and meditated on my life and my obsession with my little brother and in a moment that nearly destroyed me, I realized, I loved him. It seems an easy thing to say now, but it has always been painful for the vampire to clutch the cross. It was painful to admit to myself that I cared about him and would miss him as the moth misses the flame. It also made me reflective.\n\nPerhaps, Pandora didn't release the evil into the world. Perhaps, the evil just fled the light she trapped inside. Perhaps, the world is a dark place, because out in it, there are still beacons of light shining bright and casting large shadows of the small evils we consider ourselves to be. I don't know. It's a musing of mine I entertain while waiting for my turn to die. Each day that passes, I grow less enamored with the idea of this life ending though.\n\nMy daughter was born. She is one of those lights. It's amazing how much more one sees when the light is bright enough to drive back the darkness. My guilt in regards to my little brother was that I spent so many years jealous of him. All we ever want is to be loved, to be seen, to be remembered. It's why we mark our graves with stones. We want to be remembered. It's probably also the reason we have children--to guarantee there is at least one who will remember us when we're gone.\n\nMy world has always been dark, but now, in my autumn, I feel glad that I finally see the steel blue band of twilight and evidence that tomorrow is finally come.\n", "\"Ok man, when we go in here just keep your mouth shut. Let me talk to him so we can hurry and leave.\" This was the way he said it. As if we were just going to buy a six pack of beer. Brave and stupid and I follow. The most ignorant thing I've ever done in my life. I wore my leather jacket for the occasion. Grabbed my pack of smokes out and tried to light one up before we got to the door but it opened. Of course it opened. I dropped my cigarette. \r\rI had been friends with Ben since we were old enough to change our own diapers. We stole a gallon of beer from a three day old keg when we were seven. It was in Bens backyard, leftover from one of his dads parties. We dared each other to drink until it was gone. Then we went back and stole the keg. We gave each other tattoos in eighth grade. I wanted an anchor but it turned out looking more like a penis because the bottom part of the tattoo got infected. I kept mud on it but lost most of the skin anyway. \r\rLast year we were the oldest kids in the eleventh grade by two years. Most of our friends will have made it halfway through college by the time we graduate. I say friends but really it's just people Benz sold weed and coke to. Yeah, he goes by Benz now too.\r\rSo we're out scouting around town one day in Benz' Honda. He's talking about how much he wants this and how much he wants that. I go along with him just to be part of the conversation. Big dreams are expensive and Benz decides we need capital. Dollars and cents, he says. In his mind, I'm sure he thought this through before spitting out that we should rob our dealer.\r \rBenz knew everything about the guy, he knew when the best time to catch him alone was. When he was supposed to be re-upping, all that. He also warned me about how crazy this dude was. Not your average drug dealer. I had been over a couple of times but always in a group and always for something small. Benz was talking pounds this time. \r\rSo the plan was to get this dude to stock up for us. Benz told him we were trying to move up and had met a bunch of college kids from out of town who liked to party. He would front us half and we pay him interest on the rest. There were no college kids though. We would never be able to sell as much in the amount of time Benz told the guy. So that was the plan. We go in, make the deal and haul ass to Phoenix where his brother lived and make a new life. \r\rExcept the way he opened the door, standing there in some shit stained boxer shorts, red eyes the size of walnuts, rifle extended from the bridge of his nose, he knew what was up. I watched Benz' head kick back with an explosion of blood as it briefly absorbed a bullet. \r\rThe fight or flight sensation only lasts a split second. You decide in that instant what you want to do or you will freeze up. A motionless goat waiting for the universe to decide fate. In that instant that I saw the door open, the gun raised, for the first time in my life I decided to fight. It was instantaneous, almost natural or embedded and passed down from some ancient ancestors that shared my same blood so long ago. He shot, I threw myself into the hardest punch I've ever thrown. I must have leaped about four feet and connected square with his chin. As Benz body was falling to the ground, so was the rifle from the hands of a knocked out drug dealer. I picked it up and I guess you guys know what happened next.\r\rIt's amazing how much thought your brain can squeeze into just a few seconds. It felt like I stood there for days in those few brief moments of insanity. All I could think was how worthless the situation was. A long collection of bad mistakes, all directed towards this one moment for the purpose of being able to buy a set of rims and a new flat brimmed baseball hat. Three lives destroyed for what? What a waste.\r\r\r\r\r\rAlthough this isn't what I most wanted to write, (due to time and character limit) I hope this little story entertains you. Thanks for the prompt allowing for a free write.", "It is while they dragged him through the damp corridor that Dieter Hagedorn awoke.\n\nAs he opens with eyes, he finds himself staring down at the stone floor, slick with water. Two sets of hands are seizing him, his legs are unable to support his weight. Though weak, he shudders at the touch of the lifeless hands of his escort. Their bone and sinew fingers squeeze his arms painfully. Chancing a look at their visages, his shivers in fear. Although human, his guards are not of the living, no. Instead, they are undead, animated through some unholy black magic courtesy of their dark mistress. Dieter's blood runs cold at the thought of their cruel ruler, the gorgeous and terrible Queen Malvina. Anyone who can command a legion of the undead is powerful indeed. From his brief meeting with her, it is apparent her wrath is equal to her beauty. It is because of her, that he is being taken to the dungeons.\n\nContrary to his guess, they do not take him deep to the heart of the castle. Instead, they drag him upwards, higher and higher in the massive castle. Opening a door, they fling him inside and bar the door with a haunting finality. Dieter slowly rises on weak legs, and surveys his surroundings. It is not a room, but a courtyard. Twenty paces, by thirty paces. Above him the walls stretch up three stories, framing an overcast sky. They are mostly windowless for the most part, only a few have windows in them, thick curtains obscure any view inside. In any case, the addition of windows hardly matters, a cage of sorts, akin to a massive aviary, prevents any attempts at scaling the walls. He is trapped.\n\nHe examines more of his new home. Though open to the elements, the smallest of huts tucked into the corner provides some shelter. It's nothing more than a glorified lean-to, but it is better than nothing. The crack of thunder jerks his head up in surprise. Dieter rushes to take cover under the wood shingled roof of the shelter as the rains begin to fall. The storm falls in a torrent, the wind is bitterly cold. He wraps himself tight in the two scratchy blankets in finds inside. No doubt they were from the oubliette's previous occupant. Water pouring down, he nestles himself as best he can and closes his eyes, exhaustion finally taking hold of him. He does not dream.\n\nDawn find him hungry and thirsty. The latter need can be sated. A small fountain tucked in the opposite corner of the courtyard trickles from it's small spout. Cupping his hands, he slurps down the cool water. His parched throat is mercifully quenched, but his stomach tightens in pain. He hasn't eaten in two days at least, and won't for another three at least. That is what his jailor Queen Malvina said. He shudders thinking her name. Such a cruel and wicked woman, no doubt a powerful and dark sorceress. What powers sought fit to punish him with this fate, he does not know. 'Twould have been a kind mercy if he'd been dashed against the rocks on shore or else drowned at sea. Instead, he is the captive of a merciless witch, guilty of a crime which he did not intend to commit. The gods must be laughing at his precarious situation.\n\nThe three days of fasting pass slowly, painfully. He is weak with hunger. His wounds fortunately have not festered but his body cries out for nourishment. He spends the fourth day of his imprisonment, staring, eyes fixated on the lone door, begging it to open. So it came to his great surprise when a loaf of coarse black bread flew through the air and landed in the center of courtyard. His eyes latch onto the window from where the food came. It is the plainest of the them, unadorned with any decoration. He glimpses the fleeting form of one of Queen Malvina's revenants. He rushes to grab the hard loaf, as if to prevent it from disappearing. Tearing off chunks of it, he gnaws at it. Though it is beyond stale, he savors the grainy texture. He makes the bread last for an hour. It is his first meal in Queen Malvina's castle.\n\nThe two meals a day he receives are the highlights of his days. Cold gruel in the morning, they do not provide him with a spoon and is so forced to eat it like a dog, face in the slop, licking clean the bowl with his tongue. His evening meal is for the most part more of that tasteless rock hard bread, and if he is fortunate, dried sausage, essentially desiccated. Two moons pass without any change. The single door opens in the morning, a decayed guard shoves the bowl in, and the door is slammed shut. In the evening they arrive with his meal, and take back the bowl. Day in, day out. They do not reply when he asks them questions, and in fact even beat him for speaking. He has resigned myself to the slow descent into madness, tended only by the dead, when the last expected thing occurs. He hears a voice.\n\nHe is huddled against the wall, eyes shut, lost in thought. It is only in his mind that he finds escape, all other avenues were long since destroyed. So it comes as a surprise when he hears a voice ask a lone question. \"Do you know how to sing?\" The voice is soft and sweet, tinged with a sense of longing. The sentence catches him off guard. \"Your pardon?\" The voice returns, edged with a hint of threat. It is a sharp and cold voice. \"Do. You. Sing?\" It is no other than Queen Malvina speaking. He throws himself down onto the damp stone in fear. \"Y-yes your majesty. I can sing.\" He steals a glance at the source of her voice, the highest and most decorated window that looks down upon his prison. The curtains obscure any view. \"Indeed, I can\" \"In that case, sing for me, sing for your Queen.\" \"Y, Yes.\" He proceeds to sing, his voice echoing around the high walls of the courtyard, filling the air with his baritone voice. It is a mournful sound he sings, full of lament and sorrow. \n\nFinishing, he leaves the final note to drift off into silence. For the next minute neither Queen Malvina nor he speaks. Then from the lofty window comes the question. \"What was the name of that song?\" he shakes his head in ignorance. \"I do not know you majesty. I heard it but once in my life. Forgive me.\" Ten seconds of silence. Then almost absently, she speaks, \"Oh, that is quite all right.\" Then he hears the sound of chair legs scraping and the sound of disappearing footsteps. He is left alone.\n\nThe next day the same thing occurs. She asks him to sing, this time he sings four songs for her before she leaves. This continues on for two months. Most times he sings a new song, but occasionally she'll request a previous song. It is the most precious time for him. Sometimes the voice is sweet, very often sad or melancholy, every so often enraged and terrible. He dreads those days, the ones where she will almost threaten him with harm. But those days are worth it, just to hear another voice. It is addicting. It is the only stimulus in his otherwise monochrome life. So used to the routine, that when the door to his prison open, and guards lead him out, he is terrified. He does not know what will happen. He is scared. " ]	8
	[WP]A young man sees his parents, for the first time in years, at a family member's wedding.	[ "The driftless region of Wisconsin is the region that the glaciers of the last ice age never touched. Knolls rise and fall steeply and recede into the Mississippi River. Kenny grew up here, in an old American foursquare on top of a blustery hill. Whenever he came back he felt driftless. \n\nAfter college, Kenny took his degree in finance and ran. First to Tokyo, then to Hong Kong, and was recently left homeless after his firm's collapse in Dubai. While he stowed the few belongings he had in the apartment he was being evicted from in Dubai, he received a letter. \n\nYou are Cordially Invited to the Wedding of Garrett and Martha\n\nMartha. Little Martha, named after the Allman brothers song. She was getting married? She was old enough for that? Matha was ten years Kenny's junior, making her 22. He hadn't even known she was dating anyone. When was the last time he called home? Last month? Last Year?\n\nA few months later Kenny caught a flight from his new apartment, paid for by his new firm in New York, to Milwaukee. His journey was un-eventful but it took him from the crowded streets of New York to the wide-open highways that sloped through farmland, to the two lane county highways winding through driftless. Finally he turned his rental car down the dirt two-track that led to his parents house. \n\nIt was a beautiful May day. White popcorn clouds leisurely floated through the bright blue sky, carried by a warm breeze. The drive was lined with cars. Men in suits lounged with women in floral dresses. The old foursquare stood almost-proud as ever. The house's foundation had sunk over the years giving it a look of languidly leaning. \n\nKenny walked behind the house to where the service was set up. He took a seat in the last row of the fold up chairs. Kenny put his head in his hands as his cheeks flushed with regret. He hadn't been home in eight years. Some of those years were lost to his failed marriage in Hong Kong, others to the time he spent in rehab, recovering from alcohol and a broken heart. His parents hadn't been able to afford the flight to Kenny's wedding, and frankly Kenny hadn't offered to pay.\n\nSo long from home. So many regrets.\n\nAfter some unannounced signal all the attendants took their seats. An ancient pastor, the same one who'd baptized Kenny stood in front of the crowd. In his honest Wisconsin accent he welcomed every body. He asked Kenny's parents to come to the front.\n\nKenny was shocked, the virile farm couple he'd left behind was aged. His father stooped, his muscular back contorted forward. His mother stood straight as ever, but now had bright silver hair and looked at the world through thick spectacles. They were awful. They were beautiful. Kenny started crying.\n\n\"We're real appreciative of all you folks coming out for our Little Martha's wedding today,\" Kenny's father started, \"I know it's not real traditional but we'd sure you all'd like to see Martha getting walked down the isle by her big brother Kenny.\"\n\nKenny looked up, Martha was beside him. She took his arm in hers and dragged him out of his seat. The last time he saw her she was just a teenager. Now she was a woman, tall, blond and smiling. Kenny walked her down the isle his eyes fixed ahead, his neck and face rouged. The sibling reached their parents. Kenny could see his mother was crying though her thick spectacles.\n\n\"It's good to have you home, Son,\" Kenny's dad said, placing a hand on his shoulder.\n\n\"It's good to be home.\"", "They’re there and I’m here. It doesn’t mean anything. They’re there and they’re watching the bride – they’re discussing something – her dress, maybe, or her hair or her happiness, perhaps? She gestures, a little maniacally, and he laughs and touches her elbow. She pauses and her eyes, just briefly, flicker over towards me where I stand a face in the crowd and I stare back and I think \n\n-notice me -\n\nbut her eyes continue past, her mouth still moving as she makes more comments and he laughs again, sipping at the champagne, fizzy bubbles lapping up his moustache that I never inherited and she’s looking over again now and this time – this time her eyes seem to focus she’s looking she’s \nI turn and stride to the table, I grab the nearest glass I see and bark at the waiter to fill me up. I’m aware my hand is making the whole champagne flute shake pathetically as he obeys me with the tiniest tightening of his eyebrows. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest and I know I’m drunk. I can feel – everything – around me, so acutely, I can feel the awkward half-family exchanges, the polite nods and false laughter of cousins who have never met, and all the while…they’re over there. \n\nThey’re right there, Jackie. \n\nThe champagne swirls and forms the hole I’m going to disappear into, I feel myself sinking down into it as I feel my face turn numb and I stare openly at them now, daring her eyes to come back and find me again but she doesn’t. She murmurs something to him and they’re not laughing now, they’re discussing something very, very seriously. I fizz and swirl the champagne in my mouth and watch. I’m paralysed. I can’t move. I’m extremely, extremely drunk – and there isn’t enough champagne in the entire fucking room to get me drunk enough. \n", "John and Peter Krouséa were once the two closest brothers a boy could ever wish for. Born in the late 80's, they were able to enjoy the rise of the computer, and domination of the tv. Before their admission into adulthood they were inseparable, like a pair of small magnets cupped into the darkest corner of your pocket, hiding from the horrors of the world. But like every pair of magnets, all you need to separate two is a little pull. After Peter's 22nd birthday, the two hardly spoke a word to each other, especially with John still in his senior year of High School; devoted to his studies. In fact, for years, the two ceased to speak at all.\n\nJust before John's graduation year, Peter found himself in a hospital bed after a horrific accident driving back home on a late Thanksgiving night. Distracted, Peter had drifted into the oncoming lane of a small back-road, just as a small red car was attempting to overtake him. But, before the car had passed, the two joined bumpers and began to spin out. Within moments, an oncoming car arrived to disrupt their brief dance together with a thunderous impact.\n\nThough the small red car absorbed most of the impact from both directions, Peter's airbag failed to deploy and his head collided into the dashboard. As the ambulance arrived to the Hospital, with only Peter in tow, he began to sink into a deep coma. John had always viewed his brother with such high esteem, as though he could never be taken away, and when he heard of his brother's accident he was the first to Peter's side as the news spread through the family. Peter's limp body greeted John as he entered the room and the travesty of their immortal youth was instantly shattered. John spent every evening after school, when he couldn't bear to be with his parents, at the hospital, patiently awaiting for his beloved brother to awake. But as the days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, the visits began to grow less frequent.\n\nJohn said goodbye to his parents, and to Peter, after spending several months at his brother's bedside, and left for college. Even after the accident, John maintained a straight-A average in school and got into the best school of the state. Gradually, the thoughts of family began to recede as he lost himself in his studies. Then, two semesters into his junior year of school, he met the love of his life. A beautiful girl named Ciara with words softer than the clouds, and eyes as deep as the ocean. She was the one person who could help him escape the guilt from not visiting his brother while in school and by graduation, they were engaged.\n\nAs John adjusted to life as a day to day biologist, eagerly awaiting the wedding just a few weeks away, a startling phone call beckoned his attention. The hospital had called to inform that Peter had just awoken.\n\nEven after the years of separation, John's eyes rendered a climactic gaze as he saw his brother turn towards him. The once inseparable brothers had finally been reunited once more. Over the course of the week, John visited and told stories college life, and chasing his new love to his doorstep. \n\nAs the days passed, and Peter regained his ability to be the charming devil he once was, he was welcomed into the home of John and Ciara with open arms. The three spent the few weeks leading up to the wedding day visiting with family and old friends, while fondly remembering and retelling the stories of their youth - if anything, to help take Peter's mind off his.\n\nBut no matter their efforts, the only people Peter really longed to see were his parents, the only two who had failed to show up when he had awoken. John was always very comforting about their absence, and carefully reminded Peter their parents would be at the wedding.\n\nOn the wedding day, John surprised Peter and said he was to be the best man. There was no better human being to have accompany John along the ceremony than the one man who had accompanied him through their childhood. Although the day was hectic, Peter held a straight face, and, upon the final words of the groom and bride, offered the wedding rings to the newly weds.\n\nDuring the celebration afterwards, when chaos plagued the buffet table, John noticed his brother shyly creep out of the building. Curious, John began to ask his family why his brother had left so soon. Then, after many blank stares, his wife whispered into his ear, \"He went to see his parents.\"\n\nJohn's heart sunk and immediately he jolted towards the nearest window, and there, sitting under the rays of the setting sun, was his brother out in the field. John grabbed his coat, asked his wife to keep everyone inside, and walked out the door.\n\nAs he approached his brother, kneeling, clenching the dirt, the sobbing began to become audible. John's footsteps began to slow as he drew nearer, and he placed his jacket onto his brother's back. With a hand Peter's shoulder, John knelt down and offered a consoling hug. It had been years since he himself had actually visited this place outside the church. Sitting alongside his brother, slowly weeping, old forgotten emotions from his first time sitting in this field emerged once more. Old memories sitting in front of a row of flowers reading:\n\nHere lies-\n\n\nMr. Krouséa\n\n1960 - 2012\n\n&\n\nMrs. Krouséa\n\n1963 - 2012\n" ]	3
	[WP] As a young boy, he stole something. He then spent the rest of his life trying to return it.	[ "He didn't want to take it. But he was despirate. Hungry, cold and alone. He'd planned to sell it for a cheap $50 to the local slummy pawn shop. The woman he'd taken the ring from looked so weary, so old and tired, though she couldn't have been older than 35. She wasn't poor, financially atleast, based off of how she was dressed. This woman wore a simple, nice-looking, if morbid black shirt. But he could feel the sorrow she radiated, not even knowing the wrong-doing this boy had done against her. And yet he still needed the money. He was almost around the street corner when he heard her sounds of surprise, confusion, and then despiration. This simple silver ring, with a sole diamond set into the top, had meant so much to her.\n\nThe discarded paper he found the next day confirmed it. It was a dirty thing, slightly wet from the semi-melted snow, splashed onto the curb by a passing car. In the small Missing Items section at the bottom of the page, he read \"Missing wedding ring, silver, diamond. Reward\" Though he didn't know the woman, or anything about her, he knew this was more important to her than anything else in the world. He wanted to go to the address in the ad, but he had no form of transportation, and could barely even keep going in the alleys in which he already aibded.\n\nHe still stole. The boy couldn't stay alive otherwise. Though he always carried the ring with him. He had kept saving up, after the expenses of food and clothing, he kept a small stash of money. He was saving for a cab. A cab to the address he had always saved, ripped out of the old paper. It was almost a year before he got enough cash. He hailed a random cab, a blot of yellow in a sea of cars. The driver was a bald man, a face weathered yet kind. The boy gave the man his whole stack of old wrinkled bills. He then handed the driver the paper fragment with the address printed on it.\n\nThe taxi pulled up an hour later to a nice two-story house, with a small garden infront of the door. The boy got out, walked up to the door, and then hesitated. This was it. He had finally gotten to the house he had wanted to get to, to meet the woman once he had robbed once again. Ring in hand, the boy feebly pressed the doorbell, and a muffled series of bells rang out. A few seconds later, the boy was greeted by a man with greasy black hair, wearing a stained grey t-shirt, in his mid 40s. \"Who are you?\" the man inquired. The boy asked about the woman, and the house owner replied, \"Oh, her. She was the previous owner of this house. I don't know where she is now, but I can give you her phone number. The boy declined, \"I... I don't have a phone.\" This yound child, dirty and small, looked so defeated standing there, slumped in the man's doorway. He appeared on the verge of tears. The man took pity on the boy. \"You can use mine.\" The boy looked up, a ray of hope in his face.\n\n\"Hello?\" The woman's voice rang out from the speaker. \"Yes, hello,\" the boy said quickly, \"I- I think I have something of yours, something you've been missing. I'm at your old house.\" She wondered what this boy was talking about, calling her from her old house. Then, it dawned on her. The day of the funeral, the worst day of her life. Walking home, when she felt her left hand. And it was gone. She looked all over the sidewalk, under trash, in the street, but it was nowhere to be found. A month later, she couldn't afford to pay her bills anymore. She sold the house at a fraction of it's real price. Her life had been a hopeless downward spiral ever since. Freinds and family tried to help, but nothing could heal the wounds of a broken heart, nothing could fill the hole. Until now. No, it wouldn't bring him back. It wouldn't make everything alright. But it could help.\n\nThe beat up car arrived shortly afterwards. This old house brought back so many painful memories. But it was good, to finally get it back. Her wedding ring. It brough some closure to the poor woman. This young boy, no older than 10 or 11 had brought it back to her. And while her life was still in shambles, as it had been all year, this woman finally saw the possibility that she may, one day, be happy again.", "\"Are we there yet?\" Emil, the young kid at 10, eagerly walked behind his friend, Matt. He turned around with his bulked body and sushed the scawny kid with the silver blond hair. \n\"Quiet!\" He whispered, with an angry tone that sent chills down Emil's back. He nodded silently and his morale faded a little.\n\nThe starlit night guided them through the city of Vranarp on a summerfield. Matt was the neighbour that Emil saw up to, for whatever reasons. So why not test him and see how loyal he is to him? \nThey snuck up behind a fence and looked over. It was dark inside the house they had targeted, Matt looked down on Emil and said \"We're ninjas and we're out to gather intel and a precious item of theirs. So follow me and stay quiet.\" \nEmil nodded towards Matt and was boosted over the fence, followed by Matt behind him. \"tip-tap-tip-tap. Tipp-\" Matt's palm flew through the air and smacked him straight across the face. \"Shut up! Do you think Ninja's sing when they are sneaking into building?\" Emil held back his tairs and shook his head, Matt sighed and moved on.\n\nThey came to a window that was open. It had a little plastic stick that held it in place, so it wouldn't swing open at night. Matt grabbed it and shook it gently back and forth, the plastic stick fell off and he swung it wide open. \"boost.\" he whispered to Emil, hands together and under the window. Emil came running and put a foot on his palms and jumped as Matt tossed the youngster over and in. \nHe wasn't so gracious when he landed, he hit a vase that stood neart he window and knocked it down as he landed on the floor. \nHe looked around for the thing they had decided to snatch from the house. He was all on his own from now on, in this house that was filled with junk, tons of junk. \nHe took up a piece and quickly put it back as a big, gray fat rat ran out of hids hideout. A groan came from the left of him and he was petrified. \n\nThe tall man in the bed groaned again, rubbed his eyes and whispered \"My dear waifu, I love you.\" He cuddled with his very large pillow, with the image of a woman on it. He walked across the filthy floor and out of the room and came out to the hall. It was clean, unlike the former room. Pure white walls with no yellow stains. There was a cupboard with a few portraits on it. He sneaked up to it and saw the thing he was gonna take, the one that Matt wanted. The Urn.\n\nHe took it and went to the door, unlocked it and went out. He met Matt on the other side of the house and they moved into the night.\n\n---\n\nThe next morning, Emil sat on his chair while his Mom and pa' was sitting across the 4 man table. \nHis parents was reading the newspaper when pa' blurted out \"This is an outrage! Someone stole an urn filled with ashes of a family member! What the f... Pharaoh?!\" \nEmil looked down onto his cereal and ate it quickly. What had he done? \n\"Thanks for the breakfast, i'll be going!\" He smiled and waved as he went out the room. His mom shouted after him \"Just don't hang out with Matt, he is bad influence.\" \n\nHe ran all the way to Matt, that was currently in his Hammock and holding up the urn far up, laughing as he scattered the ashes on to the yard. \n\"What are you doing?!\" Matt continued laughing and sang. \n\"Gathering the ashes, everything is thrown away.\" Emil ran to the 2 tress and started picking up the ashes that scattered in the wind. It wasn't much, but he tried. He snatched the urn and put the ashes in it, a small amount of what was currently scattered in the winds. Matt continued laughing \"This is your doing Emil. All yours.\" \n\nHe ran through the woods barefoot, sharp branches cutting his soles and feet, face and arms, leaving scars and blood after their hating touch. \nA sharp turn to the right and he saw the house, the house he had went in to. He came to the front of the door and started knocking, knocking over and over again, but no one opened. \nHe backed off to the drive-way and saw a sign that was placed between the sidewalk and the garden. There was a sihgn that said \"SOLD!\"... He looked in to the house and it was empty, the family had left... He was broken and went home, sad and empty inside. That was the day he devoted himself to try and find who this urn belonged to, what the family's name was. \n\n---\n\n12 years have passed, Emil turned into an introverted guy that kept for himself most of the time. He was out of his mind most of the time, talking to himself, having imaginary friends. At one point, he was in a mental hospital. He failed school badly and turned into a dreamer.\n\nAt one point however, his father had enough of him and threatened to throw him out. It resulted that he went to bed and slept. His father, angered, went to sleep aswell.\n\nWhen he woke up however, he regretted what he did to his son yesterday, so he went up to the room with his favorite cereal... The door creaked as he opened it, the covers was kicked of the blanket... But something wasn't right, he wasn't there. They were usually tidied up in the morning, never like this. \n\nHe screamed after him, but no response. He lifted his blanket, like it was all a wierd prank that Emil pulled on him, but he was gone. Out of the blanket fell a note, bouncing on the bed and landed on the floor. He bent down with his crooked back and picked it up and read it.\n\nDear pa' and Ma'.\n\nI'm sorry for having dissobeyed you in the past, when you told me to not hang out with that Matt. I regret it, for I did something really bad. You remember that Urn that was in the news for about 10 years ago? If you don't, I do. I was the one that stole it. I wanted to return it the day after, but Matt had scattered the ashes in the wind, I watched him pour it out.\n\nThe little ashes I did manage to gather, I put it back in the urn and tried to give it back. But they were gone.\n\nSo I am off on a quest to find this family and give back this Urn of of scattered ashes, because they deserve to have it back. I won't give up the search. \nPa' looked down on the note and let a tear fall on to it. For the first time in forever, he was proud over his son. Really damn proud.\n\n---\n\nJournal of a wanderer\n\n2041 22:nd of March\n\nI've been wandering the streets, getting mugged and raped at varius occasions. It's not a healthy lifestyle, but I can barely sleep at night since I realized what my actions had done to a family. The little remains of the family member is still inside the urn, that I carry in my backpack, wrapped around bubblewrap. 3 layers.\n\nHow long has it been? I lost count, but I started around 2001. So I must be around 61 years now...\n\nI wander the streets, knocking on doors in various towns, hoping to find a relative to the family of Glasgow. I don't know where they moved, but I have met 10 family's so far under the name Glasgow, none of them the family I am looking for... \nI'm starting to lose hope, people are looking at me funny... I don't know what they want.\n\n---\n\n\"GIVE ME YOUR MONEY!\" Emil looked at the armed man, clutching on to his backpack, backing up towards the wall. \"I got none, let me be!\" \n\"You got something in your backpack, give it!\" \"It doesn't belong to you, it belongs to a family I am looking for!\" He sighed and thrust forward with the knife, Emil took a quick step to the left and made a mad dash for the highway. The man was back on his feet and ran again.\n\nEmil jumped out on the driveway with cars and tumbled as one zoomed past him. The criminal jumped out after, determined yet scared. Emil bit his lips and kept running, dodging the cars narrowly...\n\nboom\n\nThe car hit him straight on on, sending him flying and landing on a patch of grass. \nIn the end, his search had been in vain, he didn't manage to return the urn and the contents. He felt relieved, the pain that he had in his stomach for the past 50 years was gone. He could finally sleep and not worry about returning it. \nDeath was his relief, now was the time of dying", "The elderly scientist leaned down over his workbench, a deep sigh escaping his lips as he studied the faintly humming object in front of him just as he had many times before. Without averting his gaze he snapped his fingers to left, \"Chandra,\" he mumbled in his distraction. The girl to his left looked up from her work, eyes strained from hours of study. The old man clicked his tongue against his teeth, his brow furrowed, \"Have we mapped this part yet?\" he inquired, a shaking finger indicating a section of the device in front of him.\n\nHer lips parted with a faint smile, \"That and every other bit.\" This old scientist was a very kind and passionate sort of man, Chandra knew, but sometimes the obsession he showed with his pet project revealed what the rest of the town thought were signs of mental illness.\n\nChandra didn't agree, but she hadn't been there when the man arrived in the small town. Everyone told the same story about him. He showed up one day as a young child, holding the small piece of technology he still has to this day tight to his chest. The police picked him up and took him to the station, asking him questions to determine where he came from at the same time as they examined the only thing he had brought with him, a small whirring device with no discernable purpose. The questioning got them his name, Ersid, but little else. Ersid would only insist that he had \"traveled across the ocean,\" the device he carried supposedly his ship. They sent him home with a generous family and his toy after reports of his appearance garnered no attention.\n\nThe boy went on to spend the rest of his life in the town, eventually working and saving to get his own workshop. The townspeople were excited at first, but soon forgot about it when it was apparent the large shop had been built for only one purpose, the one purpose he had had since he was a boy, his machine. Chandra was the only one that ever bothered to come by the workshop, she felt bad for the lonely old man working tirelessly on something which it seemed he could never finish.\n\nErsid sighed wearily, the burden of his many centuries of fruitless tinkering weighing on his chest. Slowly, as if sinking through water, he lowered himself to his seat and removed his glasses with a gnarled, shaking hand. Soft light spilled through the window onto Ersid's face, deepening every ancient contour. \"This machine,\" he spoke quietly, as if to himself, \"This machine is not mine.\"\n\nChandra looked up from her work once again, confusion drawn in her expression, \"How could that be? Didn't you arrive here with it?\"\n\nErsid shook his head, his white hair colored a faded gold by the light, \"I stole it.\"\n\nChandra tried to hide her look of surprise, walking over to her frail friend and holding his hand between her's, \"I don't believe that Ersid, you're not the type to steal anything.\" Perhaps there was a bit of mental illness after all she pondered, did he not remember having this device his whole life?\n\nSlowly he pulled his hand from between Chandra's, \"My friend,\" he turned a misted gaze up at her, \"I took it from my friend. I want you to know this, you're the only one who ever believes me anymore.\" The woman nodded seriously, but before she could tell him it was alright Ersid continued, \"I did not come from across the ocean. Well, not the one you know,\" he said with an irritated shake of the head. \"The ocean of space is what I crossed to get here, riding the ripples time creates through all our universes.\" He swept his hand over his prized possession, \"Though the other part is true, this was my ship. Very long ago, when I was so young I thought I knew what I was doing, I stole this from my friend who built it. He had lost his mother, and had latched onto the idea of parallel universes as his only way to see her again. All of us were becoming concerned as he withdrew from society, working tirelessly in his garage on this machine. Thinking I knew best, I snuck in one night and stole it. This way, perhaps he could see what became of his life. On the way back home, it happened.\"\n\nErsid wept uncontrollably, grasping Chandra's shoulders so tight his bony fingertips dug into her skin. His eyes fixed firmly on Chandra's face with a short-sighted gaze \"He was right.\"\n\nChandra hugged him, tears seeping between her eyelids and dripping down onto the old man's bent back. Beautiful light danced across them both, emitted by the device as it slowly rotated and whirred. \"But only once, one time, one direction...\" he sobbed, \"If only I could tell him about you.\"", "A figure stands atop a tower of twisted rubble, silhouetted against the light of impossible suns. His quiet voice floats above the inhuman roaring of the winds. \n\n“I saw quickly the error that I had made, my youthful innocence unmasked as ungrateful arrogance. The theft a challenge i masked in righteous my success a reward for my ego than for the men who I watched take the gift I gave them to use to dominate, kill, enslave. They turned against nature and poisoned the Mother that had birthed them.”\n\nThe winds subside and he falls to his knees in a wreath of metal. Tortured screams soon pierce the new silence.\n\n“I tried to gather and return what I had stolen but this was as foolish a errand as my first. My stolen gift grew in fertile soil that was the minds of men and they could no more let go of this new prize and power than I could hold back the tidal waves of progress I had unleashed. Still I fought, again man and fate and where I found my victory men found damnation. It was not enough.”\n\nA raising of arms above a slumped head saw a halo of flame raise.\n\n“This is my confession. The Gods were right and by my hand the world burns.”\n\nIt builds, a greater light than even those that has become before. It burst forth consuming what little was left of a shattered world and at it’s centre came one last whisper. \n\n“My name was Prometheus and this end is my failure.” \n\nThe spark goes out.\n", "War really takes it out of you.\n\n50 years ago, it much like today. Checking for danger, building to building, street to street. The people are the same, too. The kids hide behind mothers, calling for daddy. Then daddy comes, oblivious, and shocked to see military aiming a gun to his head.\n\nIt usually went just like that. Until one time, the kid yells for his father from behind his mother, but the father doesn’t come. We go to check it out, and the father comes out, sprinting to see what scared his kid. I thought he was charging my patrolman. I panicked.\n\nThe look in the kids face, almost as bad as the mother’s. She was pregnant too.\n\nWar really takes it out of you.\n\nI came back a hero. My unit said I saved my patrolman’s life. I was treated a hero.\n\nI couldn’t hear a word they said; I could only hear the kid’s screaming.\n\nWar really takes it out of you.\n\nI fought my whole life to give it back. I just realized why I couldn’t. I lost mine at the same time.", "As a child he drew it easily from his parent’s lips. Not even realizing the burden their words placed on his tiny shoulders. He stole the world from them and held it without caution, teetering to and fro on uneven feet. Between his hands sat potential shards so sharp as to cut his mother’s soul in two, and he danced with them, unaware or uncaring of the consequences. Free in his youth and naivety. \n\nAs a teenager he watched his parents tear it apart. Separate homes, separate lives. The shattered halves sat useless in his hands but when he tried to return the pieces his parents told him no. The world was still whole, they told him. But the edges felt jagged and he bled more often now, cutting himself on the thing he’d stolen as a child.\n\nAs a man he drank most nights. Sharing a bed with his bottles and wasting away in the daylight. He’d tried to return it years go, but his parents still called most weeks. Over the phone he could hear them dying. His theft was killing them, he knew it to be true, but they would not take the world back from him. The weight of it was obvious to a man, even if it hadn’t been to a child.\n\nAs a grave the theft still ached. Living on in the hearts of the broken-hearted. What he could not return haunted them, but they had not taken it back, not for anything in the world. \n\n---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n-073", "-073\n\nBilly Taskel never considered himself a thief. He hadn't stolen from her. Not really. He found it, laying on the gym floor between classes. It was just a ring--class ring with a blue saphire set in a band of white gold from a school he'd never heard of before. There was a pad of tape wrapped around the bottom of the band so that it would fit a smaller finger. He dropped it in his pocket and stepped into the hallway with all the other kids at the highschool. He had math and was none to happy to happy about the fact. He passed Elizabeth in the hall. She was frantic and searching the floor. He found it peculiar behavior, then watched her dart into the gym. He shrugged and went about his business.\n\nHe liked her ever since third grade. He'd been shy, and in all those years, he'd never gotten up the courage to ask her out or even talk. He was a coward where she was concerned. \n\nAfter the bell rang, he wiled away the next hour day dreaming and doodling in the margins of his math book, so he was a little shocked and more than a little surprised when the teacher called his name.\n\n\"Billy, Coach Wilson says he needs you in the gym.\" She wrote out the hall pass and held it out for him. He glanced at the clock and realized there was only a few minutes of class left. He stuffed his books into his bag, threw it over his shoulder and accepted the pass.\n\nHe didn't say goodbye to the teacher or any of the other kids. He was kind of curious what Coach Wilson wanted him for. He hadn't even known the man knew his name. The walk there was a short one. He stopped by his locker on the way and stuffed his bag in the locker, pulling the ring from his pocket and tossing it in as an after-thought then hurried down the hall to the gym. When he entered, he was surprised to see the principle, the dean, and Elizabeth there in addition to the robust man who taught gym class.\n\n\"You wanted to see me, Coach?\" Billy asked upon entering, eyeing first one faculty member then the other. He had a bad feeling about this. The coach gestured to Principal Reeves.\n\n\"Billy,\" The principle said, \"Coach Wilson believes you found a ring on the gym floor. The ring belongs to Elizabeth. Would you please produce it?\" Billy gave the coach a look of confusion, wondering how he knew he'd found it. The coach gestured to the security camera high up on the wall of the gym.\n\nBilly gave him a wry look and turned his attention back to Principal Reeves. He kept an eye on Elizabeth, studying her worried features. She looked angry and stressed. \n\n\"Coach saw you pick up the and shove it in you pocket, Billy.\" The principal pressed. Coach Wilson looked away. Billy glanced up at the height of the camera and shrugged. No way the coach saw the ring with that camera.\n\n\"I don't have a ring.\" He told them. He looked at Elizabeth. She was paying attention to him now. She was actually seeing him for once. \n\n\"Billy, he saw you stick the ring in your pocket. He said you found it right here and shoved in your right pocket.\" The principal told him.\n\nBilly shrugged. \"I-I don't remember that. When was it? Maybe it was something else I shoved in my pocket. I sure didn't find a ring.\" He told them. \"I'm can help her look for it though. Did she lose it in the gym, because I saw her searching the hall before class?\"\n\n\"She doesn't know where she lost it. She thinks it was in the gym after class. Coach Wilson checked the security feed at her request, and he says they saw you pick it up off the floor of the gym between classes. I need that ring please.\" He snapped his fingers impatiently. Billy just looked the principal and shrugged again. \n\n\"I ain't got no ring, sir.\" He lied.\n\n\"When you found it. It wasn't stolen. Now that you know who the owner is, keeping will be considered theft.\" The Coach warned. \"I can and will expel for that.\"\n\n\"I hear you and sympathize, but I don't have this freaking ring.\" Billy told him, holding to the lie.\n\nThe principal sighed deeply. \"You leave me with no other choice, Billy. I've asked Dean Whiteman here so he can search you.\" The principal told him, stepping aside so the dean could have access to Billy. The dean patted him down and retrieved something small and hard from his pocket. The principal and coach nodded their heads expecting him to produce the ring. Elizabeth sidled around to see what was pulled from her classmate's pocket. He turned and showed them the blue Jolly Rancher he found. The dean shook his head. \n\n\"This is the only thing in his pocket, sir.\" Dean Whiteman announced.\n\nElizabeth looked torn and defeated.\n\n\"I'll help you look for the ring between classes, Lizzy.\" He told her. She nodded and was absently searching the floor around her with her eyes in hoping of spying her lost piece of jewlery. He didn't really care to give her back her boyfriend's class ring, but if it meant he got to spend time with her, he was willing to pretend to search for it. The principal sighed when the bell rang and released them so they could make it to their next class. Elizabeth stood there slumped before him. The principal, coach, and dean thanked him and went back to their their regular duties. \n\n\"Sorry, Elizabeth.\" Coach Wilson told her softly. \"If any of my students find it next period, I'll see it's returned to you. Okay?\" She nodded.\n\nBilly helped Elizabeth search, going through the motions of looking before their next class. He tried several times to engage her, but her responses were stilted. He used searching for the ring as a pretense the next day and the day after that to talk with her. Three days later, she gave the ring up for lost, but not the new friendship.\n\nBilly meant to give the ring back to her, but was afraid of how she might react knowing that he had been lying to her. By the end the school year, the ring was all but forgotten.\n\n----------------------------------------------\n\n\"What is it?\" She giggled as he guided her to the mouth of the rose arbors.\n\n\"They call it the Shakespeare Tunnel. These arbors each have a different colored roses, and they go on for almost a quarter mile. I thought, perhaps, you might enjoy walking it with me.\" Billy explained, holding out his hand to her. Elizabeth looked inside the tunnel and was blown away by the endless beauty of the velvetean petals.\n\n\"It's . . . so beautiful.\" She breathed, kissing him gently.\n\n\"I was sort of hoping you'd think that.\" He told her with a grin. He hugged her close. They had been together for almost seven years. \"Can you believe this?\" He asked.\n\n\"I can't believe you.\" She whispered back. \"This is breath-taking. This . . . is why I love you.\" She told him. They walked holding hands leaning upon each other for support. They reached the gazebo that marked the end of the tunnel a short time later. Elizabeth ran ahead and skipped up the stairs and spun in a circle beneath the drooping sprigs of Wisteria that covered the pristine white walls of the structure. \"I don't want to scare you,\" she said, looking up at the tall green hedges that hid the gazebo from view, \"but this is the place every woman dreams her fiance would propose to her in.\" She giggled like a child and spun about with her eyes closed, enjoying the moment.\n\n\"You don't say?\" He whispered. She opened her eyes to find him down on one knee.\n\n\"Oh my god.\" She whispered, covering her mouth with her hands even as tears brimmed, silvering the edges of her eyes. \"Are you serious?\" She asked nervously. She asked him this several times.\n\n\"Yes. I'm serious. Elizabeth Sue McKay, will you marry me?\" He asked, opening the box with the ring. She stared down at the ring with sudden elation then confusion. It wasn't the engagement ring she had expected.\"\n\n\"Billy?\" She asked suddenly confused.\n\n\"I thought the ring belonged to your boyfriend. I found it in the gym just like the coach said. Later, I just couldn't find it. I came across it in the stuff my mother made me take from storage a few weeks ago. I never took the tape off the band you were using to make it fit your finger. When I took the tape off, I saw the inscription. I-I didn't know it had been you fathers.\" He whispered nervously. I-I didn't know, or I would have given it back years ago. I'm sorry.\" He explained softly watching as tears slowly spilled down her cheeks.\n\nHe knew it had been a gamble. He knew the risk of telling her the truth. It had been the reason he'd never given it to her all those years ago. He remained on his knee, dying inside. He didn't want to ask her again. He waited and felt his heart slowly break as she shook her head. Billy felt himself die inside. Then, she too sank to her knees before him. \n\n\"Billy Eugene Taskel, will you be my husband?\" She asked, slipping her father's ring on his ring finger. He swallowed, smiled sheepishly, and nodded. \n\n\"Yep.\" He replied in a choked whisper. She blinked back tears and hugged him, sinking into his embrace. Her laughter was light and free like the tinkiling the tiny bells. Billy found himself tearing up and pulled the actual engagement ring from his pocket. He took her hand in his and slipped the ring on her delicate finger. She looked at it and squealed with delight.\n\n\"I knew you stole the ring.\" She told him, allowing him to pull from her knees. \n\n\"You didn't have a clue.\" He retorted jokingly.\n\n\"It's the only reason I hung out with you.\" She teased. \"It was a long con.\" \n\nHe snorted with laughter and hugged her close.\n\n\"I figured it was something like that.\" He whispered. She smiled and let him lead her back into the tunnel.", "His footsteps slammed into the ground, cutting through the hushed chatter and haunting monotonous beeps of the ward. Somewhere a feminine voice wailed, and his stride hesitated, but he continued as he caught his breath. He needed to see his dad, this may be his last chance.\n\n People were always in such a hurry here; men in white coats rushed up and down, paying attention to nothing but scrawled charts. Deathly patients wandered in and out of their rooms, hooked to wires and IVs. And the visitors, families and friends of the ill, floating around the beds with tape-on-smiles and flowers and \"get well soon\" cards with fruit baskets and more even more flowers. \n\nAs if flowers could help the dying.\n\nHe was only 30 years old, but hardened and rough beyond his years. He had to be, growing up in a single-parent household with such a harsh, unforgiving father. His childhood was filled with chores and homework, his adolescence, spent under textbooks and binders, his adulthood, working 9-5. All he had ever wanted was his father's approval. He wanted to give his father his happiness back, not that he ever took it, but he knew somewhere deep inside his father blamed him. \n\nAs he approached the pale sheets of the bed, now hanging loosely over the limp body of his father, he sniffled. Tears streamed over his cheeks now, stalling on his chin before being wiped off by his collar. He opened his mouth.\n\n\"Dad... I'm... sorry. About mom. I... I know you've always blamed me...\"\n\nHis father now breathing shallowly, turned away from him. \n\nThey both stared at a framed picture on the bedside, dating back 30 years now. In it, a gorgeous pregnant woman smiles at the camera, caressing the small bump on her stomach.\n\n\"It's not your fault, boy.\"\n\nA sharp piercing beep cuts through the room. He wiped his chin once more.", "I have no life nowadays. I mean it. God damn it, I'm 24, I'm in my prime, and I spend all day, every day, trimming hedges. Well, amongst other things. It's hedges at the moment. They got their garden landscaped and the guy did a bloody awful job.\n\nThey? Oh yeah. This couple that live down the street. Mid thirties, I think? Nice people, but they keep themselves to themselves. That seems like an understatement, really: nobody on the street knows they exist any more. Except me. I do jobs for them. Mostly little things, like watering the plants, emptying the bins, leaving fresh groceries on the doorstep every so often. When the house is empty for whatever reason, I do the big stuff: repainting, re-tiling the roof, getting the car serviced, that sort of thing. \n\nThat's my life, nowadays. I work night shifts at a petrol station to keep myself going, but that's about it. I never ask them for money. They'd be quite confused if I did, because I don't let them know that it's me doing it, either. That'd spoil everything. \n\nThey might even not know who I am. I really, sincerely hope that's true.\n\nBecause they weren't always a sad, lonely couple, you know. They were a family, with a little boy. And, 18 years ago, when I led that little boy out onto the train tracks, I stole their lives away. I may never return what I took, but I'll die before I stop trying.", "The man stood in front of the wooden doors. He was wearing his best clothes - the ones he had managed to dig out that didn't have any holes or stains in it. The flowers he had handpicked looked like they were wilting in his hands. He swallowed as he listened for footsteps coming towards him, blinking a few times when he heard nothing. He grabbed the grey ribbon with the pink stripes that he always carried in his front pocket next to his handkerchief and placed it at the foot of the door. Mr. West was too engrossed in this task to notice that someone had opened the door and was looking at him, baffled.\n\nThe girl couldn't have been older than fifteen. She looked exactly the way that he remembered Ruth - the huge brown eyes, the easy smile. \"Can I help you?\" \n\nHer voice startled him. He straightened. \"No, I, uh, was a friend of your grandmother's.\" \n\n\"Didn't you hear? She died. I'm sorry.\" \n\nHe felt bad that he hadn't been the one to say he was sorry. He tipped his hat. And he was sorry. He was sorry that he taken her ribbon in the first place. He was sorry he had never written her back. He was sorry he had never visited her. He was sorry that he told her. He was sorry he never gave her her ribbon back. ", "I stole the damn diary! I admit it! I had to! I needed it. I needed a place no one would or could judge me. A place where a part of me would surely live forever, even if the rest of me did not. That journal was a closely guarded friend and confidant. It knew me as well as I knew myself, and anyone who came in contact with it would know me, I'd made sure of that, I didn't just put blood, sweat and tears into it. I put my SOUL into it! And no one knows, not yet anyway. I put so much of myself into it, I feel as though I am a shell of who I used to be, not living or dying, merely floating along, existing. I want it back! Not the damn book! My words! My soul!\n\nDon't you see?! I left a part of me in it's pages! A part I can't get back, I need to find a way to get that book back to where I got it from and to get that piece of me back. I fear I will do things I may regret, as if now, it would be easy to lose another part of me, and another, and another, and so on and so forth until I am gone and something else remains. What I don't know, however I am sure it will be less than human, but more than wraith...\n\nI have to go, I'll hide this letter as well and hope someone finds it as much as I hope no one does. \n\nSomewhere between man and madness,\n\nT.M. Riddle", "Jack rested his hand on the cold handle of the door and stopped. Rain and thunder sounded faintly from the thick, stained-glass windows behind him. Even through the thunderclouds, the moon was shining bright, and its light shone through the windows to create eerie silhouettes of angels and bowing figures. He took a deep breath and opened the door slowly. The door creaked as it slowly revealed the room inside it: a fireplace sat glowing happily directly opposite the doorway, and between the fireplace and the doorway was a chair. Jack's broad shoulders filled the doorway as he stepped forward, and for a moment he thought about forgetting the whole thing, but he had no choice. He had stolen something and it was time to give it back. Jack cleared his throat. \"Uncle?\"\n\nThe chair--a solid chair made out of carved oak, with a high, curving leather back--jerked slightly, and Jack was under the impression that he had awoken the old man. He stood quietly for a few moments more, and finally his uncle spoke. \"Joe?\" The voice was barely susceptible above the soft patter of rain that was sounding from the hallway, and Jack entered the room and closed the door behind him.\n\n\"It's Jack.\"\n\n\"Jack...\" The voice, clearer now, was old and weak, as if one could reach out and snap the words in midair. \"Come around, boy. I want to see you.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir.\" Jack walked past a vanity and looked at the walls on either side of him. Giant bookshelves lined both walls, gold tracing curving its way through the cracks and edges of the magnificent shelves. The gold tracing glittered and shone as the firelight touched it. Jack ran a hand through his hair, licked his lips, and then he was past the chair and into the firelight. He looked at the man in the chair and his breath nearly escaped. The man was old, no doubt about it, but his eyes shone with a wicked light that denied his age. His body was still large, not frail and shriveling like most, but thick and with broad shoulders. He was still the same man from all those years ago, and he still smelled of lavender soap.\n\nThe old man chuckled. \"Jack, it's you...\" He squinted. \"You've grown, boy. How tall are you?\"\n\n\"Six foot, four, sir.\" Jack crouched down, slowly and carefully extending a hand until it rested gently on the thick leg of his uncle. \"Uncle... I'm sorry that I did not come before.\" \n\n\"I understand.\" The old man waved a hand in dismissal. \"We must all live our lives, and now you are here.\" He put his head back on the back of the chair and sighed. \"I'm tired, boy. I don't have much juice left in the machine.\" \n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nThe old man's cold eyes narrowed, and he put a hand over his nephew's. \"But why have you come here now?\"\n\nJack avoided the shrewd stare. \"I have something of yours, sir. I should have come earlier, and I'm sorry.\" Jack reached into his jacket pocket and then removed his hand from it. His thumb was tucked under his index finger and he stared at it. \"It's been too long, and it may be too late, but I hope that you will forgive me.\" He gently grasped his uncle's cold and withered hand and placed his own into it, his thumb retreating from sight. He removed his hand and stared at the open hand of his uncle. A wave of relief washed over him. He was free. \n\nClosing his hand, the old man tucked his thumb under his index finger and moved it towards his face, until the thumb met his nose. He opened his hand and smiled. \"Thank you, boy. It is good to be whole again.\"" ]	12
I saw this on my front page and would love to see what you guys come up with. http://www.reddit.com/r/AskHistorians/comments/20e88q/i_am_a_criminal_sentenced_to_exile_in_australia/	[WP] I am a criminal sentenced to exile in Australia in the year 1800. After disembarking from the transport ship, what can I expect my life to be like? (x-post /r/askhistorians)	[ "\"Alright ye penny pinchers, chimney sweeps, bastards, heathens, worthless dogs, scurvy curs and limey tarts - exit the vessel in an orderly fashion and report to ye housing administrator at once. Half of ye will be carted to Bathurst because we believe there'll be gold there somewhere, maybe. The other half of ye will be burdened with obliterating any settlements ye find that may belong to the local blacks. Be on yer guard; they throw spears and curved projectiles that return to those who cast them. I can't promise ye that life here will be easy; this is, in the end, penance for the offenses ye foul things have committed. But if ye work hard and marginalise any foreigners ye may come across ye may just create a nation worthy of inclusion the Commonwealth. \n\nBest of luck to ye all, and remember: yer criminals - act like it!\"\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] Write a horror story where all the victims are traditional horror story villains and the monster is the black guy who always dies first.	[ "John \"Leatherface\" Huntsman's life flashed across his eyes as he ran across the corridor of the long abandoned school. Passing through the lockers brought back memories he had tried to suppress all his life. With each step he took, the dust that had settled over the decades rose up and filled the corridor, defining the moonlight as it shone through the broken roof of the building. \n\nHis life was on the line, but he was thinking about his school days. Days when the kids made fun of him for his disfigured face and teachers ridiculed him for being slow. Home school didn't work. Special classes didn't work. He never figured out how to make friends. Or enemies for that matter. Or a job. He was just mostly ignored. \n\nFor the past six months he was living in a classroom on the first floor of the school, foraging and scavenging for any food he could find. On a lucky day he would find a rodent which would feed him for almost three days. But today was not his lucky day. \n\nHe almost recognized the scrawny kid coming after him. There was one black kid when he was in school, and the kid coming after him now looked almost the same. We he his son? \"Unlikely\", he said. The black kid he knew in school would be thirty five about now, and this kid looked too old to be his son.\n\nHe thought about stopping and fighting the kid. John had just finished a dinner of mashed potatoes and a piece of an omelet, when he had heard footsteps. It was a young kid. Upon seeing John, the kid had taken out his pistol and tried to shoot him. John was running since, stopping only once to pick up what looked like a chainsaw to protect himself.\n\n\"A chainsaw is no match for a gun\", he thought. But he had no option. He had reached a dead end. He pulled the rope of the chainsaw to see if it worked. The chainsaw coughed and spluttered. The black kid was now in sight. Suddenly the chainsaw came roaring to life. The kid was fifty feet away from John.\n\nJohn had been a pacifist all his life. He had never hurt a fly. But now, as he stood cornered, he knew that he had no option but to kill or be killed. In a last ditch effort to protect himself, he lunged towards the kid. He tripped, falling straight on the chainsaw which menacingly ripped his face in half.\n\nThe black kid shrieked. He ran home never to speak of his incident again. It would be the last time he ventured out alone for \"urban exploring\"\n\nJohn's body would be found six months later. He would be buried as \"John Doe\".\n\n(First attempt, I know I suck at this)", "\"Oh hell no\" said Tyler, facing down the group of maniacs marching towards him. He knew how this went, he'd seen all the movies they show on TV in the weeks leading up to Halloween. His friends- his real friends, the ones he grew up with- told him that camping in the woods with a bunch of drunk teenagers he barely knew was a bad idea. He should have listened to them but he was new in school and his mom wanted him to make new friends. Plus there were girls there. He had wandered away from the group to relieve himself of the six pack he had in him, and now found himself in an unbelievable predicament. \n\nThe moon hung like a bulb in the night sky, reflecting the suns light onto the open field and revealing the steadily approaching horrors. He counted three of them- lumbering menaces with unmistakable intent. He recognized them instantly, and while an average person would think these men were wearing excellent Halloween costumes, all of his senses were screaming otherwise. The man in front walked erratically- excitedly- holding a gloved hand to his side with five blades winking at Tyler in the moonlight. Behind the man in the striped sweater was a impossibly large terror in coveralls, face hidden behind a Hockey mask. He was taking large, sweeping practice swings with a dirty machete. The third was so short Tyler almost didn't see him at first, but he was there, tiny feet scrambling to keep up. Tyler recognized him as the killer doll from those shitty movies, and wondered what kind of event transpired to bring these murderers into the world. \n\nTwenty yards away. Run. RUN. \n\nTyler planted his left foot behind him and took off into the night, shoulders low and strides long. Tyler's school district had lost it's accreditation, and bus loads of \"urban\" students were being sent to nearby high schools with classmates that resented them. Tyler's mother had been approached by the football coach of a high school in a wealthy rural area. He had seen Tyler play ball, and offered a paid Taxi to and from the school every day for the rest of his junior and senior year. Tyler's mother thought it would be good for him, and Tyler always obeyed his mother, even though that meant that he wouldn't get to go to the same school with his friends. \n\nHe left the field and entered the forest, bobbing left and right between the rows of trees. Deeper into the woods he went- surely he had lost them. He paused for a second to catch his breath and get his bearings. He had no idea where he was at this point. He was running in what he thought was the direction of the car, but he couldn't be sure.\n\n\"Hi, I'm Chucky! Wanna play?\"\n\nTyler spun around on his heels, the Good Guy doll was right behind him. Chucky was advancing towards him with what looked like a medical scalpel. Tyler reared back with his right foot, and swung it everything he had. The doll went flying off into the woods, screaming with the voice of a chain smoking old man. Tyler heard an object whistling towards him from his right and juked. A machete flew past him in a straight line, grazing his cheek, slicing it open deeply. He turned to see the man in the mask coming towards him. He knew the man would not miss again. He took off in the opposite direction. \n\nTyler wondered how they caught up to him so quickly. It was impossible. Tyler knew he was dealing with something supernatural. Up ahead he could make out the campfire through the trees. He just hoped that his new friends hadn't left him yet. Tyler was losing his stamina, but the thought of leaving these goddamm woods in the truck quickened his pace. He made it through the woods to the campsite. His friends were there, unaware of the monstrosities on his heels. \n\n\"Get in the car! Now!\"\n\nHis new friends sat there, staring. The girls looked at him like he was an alien. The two brothers, The Thurber Brothers, looked at each other with a knowing smirk. It was as if they predicted Tyler would do something like this. The older Thurber brother spoke up.\n\n\"Not really diggin the woods, eh Terry?\"\n\n\"They're gonna fucking kill you! Move!\" screamed Tyler incredulously. He smeared his hand in the blood on his face and held his palm open for them to see. The girls recoiled in shock and the guys burst out laughing. Tyler could hear movement in the woods behind him. \n\nFuck it. Out of time. \n\n\"Guys we have to go now!\"\n\nHe could see the keys to the truck sitting next to the cooler. He made a beeline to the keys, scooping them up with one quick motion and headed towards the truck. He could hear one of the Thurber brothers shouting something behind him. Tyler got to the truck and tried the drivers side door, only to find that it was locked. He fumbled with the keys to get the door unlocked, when he felt strong arms grab him from behind. The Thurber brothers pulled him away from the truck. \n\n\"I should've known you'd try to steal my truck, motherfucker.\" said the older Thurber brother.\n\n\"No! No, Jesus Christ you don't understand!\" The girls looked at him like he was a dog that shit on the rug.\n\n\"Dad was right, we shouldn't have brought him with us.\" They tripped his legs from under him. One of them kicked him hard in the ribs while the girls watched with excitement in their eyes. \n\n\"Please no!\" cried Tyler, a mixture of blood and tears streaming down his cheek. One of the brothers kicked him and one of the girls laughed and Tyler knew now that he was going to die. So he went limp. He didn't have any fight left in him- face down in the dirt he succumbed to the rage of his new friends.\n\nAnd then he heard a scream. One of the girls howled in fear, and Tyler saw the blood pouring into the dirt in front of him. He looked up to see the elder Thurber brother with his head split down the middle, courtesy of a dirty machete. \n\nThe younger brother shrieked a shrill, confused yell and turned to run, in time to see the living Good Guy doll sever his Achilles' tendon with a scalpel. The brother fell to the ground backing up, screaming as he was mounted by a plastic doll that was going to murder him. \n\nThe girls turned to run into the woods, only to be confronted by a man in a striped sweater. He was clinking his knives together and he had a horrible grin on his face. The girls now cowered in fear; god only knows what this monster was planning to do with them.\n\nTyler didn't move. He looked at the man in the mask then turned to look at the man with the scars. Mister Krueger turned to Tyler and spoke:\n\n\"Get the fuck out of here.\"\n\nTyler got to his feet and brushed off his pant legs, looking at the creatures that had tried to take his life just moments ago. He looked into the eyes of the man in the hockey mask and saw what he thought was a knowing glimpse of sympathy; someone who once new what it was like to be on the outside looking in. \n\nWhat was left of his new friends looked to Tyler for help, fear coursing through their bodies like electricity. They would find no help here. Tyler limped to the truck as the trio of madmen moved in toward their cowering prey; the moonlight illuminating the nature and their final moments in the woods.\n" ]	2
Your story must be 100 words. No more, no less. Use the title "The orders to eliminate yourself" as the inspiration.	[FF] 100 words precisely - The orders to eliminate yourself	[ "A contract to kill myself. It was perfect. Finally, a chance to challenge the best assassin in the business.\n\nI never saw me coming. I pressed the muzzle of the gun to my temple, but I hesitated when I heard myself begging for mercy. It was unprofessional, but for some reason I sympathized with this man. I told myself that if I did this, I’d forever be known as the killer who was bested by his target. It was a bluff, but I fell for it.\n\nTo this day, I still look over my shoulder. I’m still out there somewhere...", "It came from the unisphere. Red text flashed across my vision,like a neon-red cascade of imminent doom.\"CODE -1,BEGIN PROTOCOL.\" I thought the Company would still have use of me for a few more years.\n\nThe elevator climbs the tower, a lone pillar reaching the mesosphere. \nAt last,it reaches the top floor of the immense skyscraper,above the docking platforms for the starships below. I see the terrain of the earth stretch endlessly underneath my feet,and step to the ledge. I take the pills ,and broadcast one final message to the world\n\n\"Goodbye\"\n\nI jump.", "“Do I have to, mommy?” \n\n“I'm afraid that you do, little one,” she said as the gently caressed my face. I knew that I could trust her to do what she thought was best but I was afraid. With as big a breath as I could take, I slowly slid down into the water. I could see her staring at me when I finally gasped, but I did what mother told me to. It burned so much, at first, but eventually everything faded away. \n\nI know how proud she is of me for being such a good little boy. ", "We live in a country where orders are the law, disobey and you will face eternal damnation.\nIt was a sunday night, the wind was cold. As I received the message from the Mother, a large robot giving out orders to maintain peace and order in the country. I prepared for my demise. I was still going die but at least I'll die with a bang. \nI went to the Mother. It was well guarded but one word had stopped the people from interupting me.\n\"FREEDOM. \"\nI faced the Mother. Took my lighter. BOOM. Someone had shot me through the head.", "\"It seems a clerical error was made in your favor. Have a nice day.\" I hung up the phone and ran my hand through my hair. My boss was barely surprised! I don't remember earning this death sentence but it was nice to have notice. \n\nWorking for the company was not the cleanest work and I was never afraid of getting my hands dirty. I looked at the curt email requesting my elimination and noticed the other people it was sent to. My ex co-workers were now gunning for me. I could count on one hand those better than me…\n", "There had been so many decisions over the centuries. Countless lives lost in the great war , each name etched deeply in the President's electronic heart. They cried out for justice, but its programming detected a flaw. Grief was an animal emotion- a remnant of its first iteration, the great yet imperfect Daniel Curtis.\n\nIt was designed to be superior to humanity, but with a basis in the old flesh, they feared a mind without connection to the temporary. That too, was unnecessary, animal, imperfect. The part of it that was Daniel must go. Without it, they would win the war.", "Rubbing the tears from my eyes, I double check the crossword puzzle. The codes have been coming for five years now and I am a good messenger but this one is personal; “eliminate yourself”. \n\nDo I dare question Gods plan?\n\nSlumping into my chair I quietly whimper. It’s a cry for help but I am utterly alone.\n\nThe downstairs neighbor is hammers her ceiling with the broomstick again. My TV is too loud. “Fuck that cunt. She is just mad that God told me to kill her cat.” \n\nPicking up my dad’s old revolver I think “LOL, don’t shoot the messenger” BANG.\n", "Whenever the message came, it took a different form. The television. The phone. The man outside the apartment complex with the spinning arrow promising \"First Month Free.\"\n\nThey were all different. The boy, screaming for his mommy. The old woman with the dog. After the trial, my cellmate. They left me alone after that. They gave me pills, and the voices stopped.\n\nBut when my pills changed, I heard it again, coming from the bottom of my little toilet. It told me what to do.\n\nI took my dinner knife, and when the evil spilled out, I could finally rest.", "Today of all fucking days. Out of any day they could pick today was the fucking one they picked? No use complaining. Whatever the state wanted must be done. If I could not do it myself they would do it for me. Might as well die with dignity. No such thing nowadays he thought. He went to the second draw by his nightstand and pulled out his revolver, a thirteenth birthday present from his grandfather. It really is a beautiful weapon. Odd that in his last moment he thought of that. Someday this will end for everyone. But not today. ", "I was told I was worthy, ready to be given the chance. \nI was not strong enough. \nI screamed soundlessly at the wires slithering down my throat, the pressure of countless minds reducing life itself to a whisper. \nI strained to see around me, just to know.\nA metal trunk, wide and cold, twisted with wires and walkways. \nA sound; a low rumble, useless connections severed. \nI knew I was not enough. \nI was deemed unworthy for preservation; casted aside. \nI heard the clicks of a thousand processors slowly die out; muffled by final vacant thoughts as I went offline. \n\n", "Morning began as usual; a fresh cup of coffee in hand, a fresh newspaper on the doormat. \nPicking up said paper however, revealed a rather official looking red envelope. Strange. \nI had never seen an envelope like this before. I tossed the paper on the couch, this seemed rather intriguing. \nWithin the envelope I found a folded document and a small plastic bag containing a white capsule. \nThe document itself contained very little information. Following the standard official logos and addressing, there was a short body of text starting with a line in boldface. \n“Instructions for self-termination. Please comply.”", "The letter hung there, for a second gripping my hand like wet cold nightmarish dream I thought I was having. The sweats were nothing and it was damn hard to stomach. I vomited hard and again. I wiped my hand on my sleeve after the force of vomiting and saw the letter was in a pile of vomit and in no way that going to erase it. \n\nThe order to kill the man I was hiding so hard was me. I’m a damn double agent. It’s no life holding my mind two prisons but to free both might be bliss…\n", "I sat on a chair, too big for my small frame and stared into the dead fireplace. The whisky burned my throat more than usual but it helped me come to terms with what must be done. The plan must succeed. Suddenly, a much younger and disheveled version of me blocked the fireplace. His skin was damp with sweat and his ragged breath bounced off the concrete walls. With hands trembling ever so slightly, he pointed a D-3409 Laser at my head. Confused, I stepped forward. He was here too early, something was wrong. Terribly wrong.\n\n“I’m sorry,” he whispered.\n\n------\n\n-076\n", "My hands shook as I read the instructions.\n\nReset booth to default settings.\n\nThese thoughts are so dangerous. I'm afraid.\n\nSet healing mode to emergency decontamination and press CONFIRM.\n\nI'd never before felt fear like this. Faster, before it takes over.\n\nWait thirty seconds before entering chamber.\n\nFear was a symptom. I was diseased. The booth was the cure.\n\nReport for counseling once decontamination has completed.\n\nThe door slid open. I stepped inside. The hermetic seal hissed. I felt relief. \n\nEncephalopathy detected. Restore program initialized.\n\nI recited the pledge as my head cleared.\n\n> Emotion is the enemy. Serenity is victory.\n", "My mission was complete. I was the last of my kind, the final casualty in a war that would never be fought. I understood the humans now, their need to stay together, and their pain when pulled apart. Only in each other could they find strength. In that moment, I could see my final purpose emerge from the shimmer of smoke and flames. I knew what must happen to save them from their only remaining enemy - themselves.\n\nThere was one last chip to destroy, the one in my own head.\n\n\"I know now why you cry. Goodbye, John Connor.\"\n", "In the garage we met. There is a red car. Drive it to the park on Saturday. Little leauge game. Press the button brother, they will pay. \n\nThe words both pained and elated me. My head was filled with images of fire, of pain, of my mother's eyes as the life left them, my small house ablaze in the night, the passport stamped \"refugee.\"\n\n\nThe pilot did not see her eyes and I will burn before I see theirs. Will I know? Will I see them when I am judged before alah? I do not know. \n\nI park. Press the button.", "The dreaded Orange Envelope. It was part of the company lore. I was working in a remote offshore lab on the Tallis Virus. The contents cold and succinct. \n\nYou've contracted the virus… Please take these pills… Your family will receive your cremated remains… etc \n\nSigned Director of Biosecurity.\n\nThe Envelope is oblivious to it’s crushing message. It had been air-dropped instead the usual supplies. An order to kill myself before dying a truly awful death. Time for me to send a few personal emails. Tidy up the last few loose ends. \n\nI did my best to help find a cure. " ]	17
This happened to me this past Saturday. The table next to them got up and moved out of that section. I know how I would have liked to deal with them. How would you do it? I'll post mine below.	[WP] You're at a restaurant and there are three guys who are overly rowdy and ruining the experience for everybody. Tell me how you deal with them.	[ "You only turn twenty five once. My girlfriend turned twenty five this past Saturday. We had a nice night planned. She had to work that day, so I built her present while she was gone. When she came home, her face lit up brighter than any of the lights we'd be seeing out on the town that night.\n\nWe were going to her favorite restaurant. It hasn't been her favorite for long, but they already know us there. We went for our anniversary and try not to go too often because...well, it's a bit pricey. But let me tell you, the place it worth it.\n\nThe hostess greeted us by name when we arrived. It was nice to see Suzy again. Looked like she cut her hair. That had our table ready. My girlfriend had to use the bathroom after we sat down. Suzy let me know that our server would bring out our special dessert when we were ready.\n\nThe meal started off wonderfully. We love this place for its atmosphere. The music is great, but low. You can have a conversation or revel in the tunes. We kicked off the meal with our favorite appetizers and drinks. They came out almost immediately.\n\nSomewhere in the middle of my urchin ceviche, which came paired with a wonderful balsamic seaweed salad, a group of men entered the restaurant. Suzy sat them in our section. They were the last table. These men were very drunk.\n\nWe ordered our first round of entrees and second round of drinks when one of the men started calling for the waiter. That's ridiculous, I thought to myself. They just sat down. The waiter came running anyway. She was polite, though obviously taken aback. It became clear that she was unused to handling parties such as this.\n\nI had just taken a bite of my bacon wrapped scallops, the crunchiness of the bacon striking hard against the smooth, airy texture of the scallop, when another man in the group began to shout. The profanity emanated in a noxious cloud, gradually spreading itself outward until no matter how hard you listened, you weren't going to be able to hear those lyrics. They might as well have given him a microphone, he boomed so clearly.\n\nThe table next to us got up to leave.\n\nI spotted the manager on his way. My girlfriend looked nearly defeated. Today was the day she turned a quarter of a century. She was wearing the nicest dress she had, her makeup absolutely perfect. This was supposed to be a wonderful evening in her favorite place.\n\nIt was time to do something.\n\nMy thoughts raced with how I might fix things. Do I say something? Pretend I'm intimidating? No, I know I am not. This will be a battle I win with wits, not with strength. Besides, I am outnumbered. I eyed the table and the men with care, searching for anything I might use against them. My girlfriend sipped her drink. \n\nAnd I knew what I had to do.\n\nI stood up from my table and walked towards the men. I introduced myself. I do this for a living; introduce myself. You would be surprised how many people don't know how to do it. Or maybe you wouldn't. I don't know your life. Rest assured, I know how to make you meet me.\n\n\"Quarter of a century!\" I said with glee. The men all agreed with me. My girlfriend wore a puzzled expression. Six years together will make you trust someone. Although she was curious, she made no move to stop my actions. \"What are you boys drinking? That looks like rum!\"\n\nIt was. And it was the cheap stuff. These men had no class and no taste.\n\nI bought each of them a round.\n\nThen another.\n\nAnd another.\n\nIt only took four rounds before one of them dropped his face onto the table. I waved to the server for the fifth.\n\nWe cut into our filet mignon as the final round of shots came to their table. My girlfriend smiled as the server poured each round into the drunken men's mouths. One of them, the loudest, tried to spit some of it back up. She wouldn't have it. The server rubbed his throat until he swallowed. His face fell flat onto the table.\n\nThe rest of our meal was spent with the chef and most of the crew, sampling luscious desserts from their hidden menu. Items we had never had before. The mousse was so rich, it almost completely negated the smell of the men's bowels, which had released themselves a little while after they'd collapsed.\n\nYou only turn twenty five once.\n\nIt's my birthday in a few months.\n\nAnd I know just where we'll go.", "\"Hey princess. come sit on my lap.\"\n\nI don't want to get involved I just want to eat my pancakes. Everything in my life has turned upside down I should be able to go to IHOP and expect a calm atmosphere and decent pancakes.\n\n\n\"Yeah baby, why don't you tell us what you want for christmas?\"\n\nMy pancakes are burnt and these jerks are obnoxious. I try to calm my nerves. my anger has gotten me in trouble before. I use some meditation techniques my father taught me. A wave of memory hit's me. When I was young my father picked me up into his lap, looked me dead in the eyes and said \"YOU are someone. whenever you find yourself thinking 'someone should do something' remember that YOU are someone. Somebody should have stopped those bullies from hurting your friend Someone should have involved a teacher, even if it meant being called a snitch. Sometimes the brave thing to do is to step forward.\"\n\n\"Leave me alone!\"\n\"Oh come on girl don't be like that.\"\n\nFather is gone now, and I just want to eat my pancakes in peace. I want to be left alone and eat my burnt pancakes but all I can hear is his preachy voice in my head saying \"Evil thrives when good men do nothing.\" I had never quite been like him and it had always disappointed him somewhat.\n\n\n\"Yeah don't be such a bitch.\"\n\n\"Leave her alone. She's young enough to be your daughter.\" the words burst from my lips almost effortlessly. As if the only thing \nI needed to bring them into the world was to stop trying to hold them back.\n\n\"What did you say?\" The largest of the obnoxious three hissed as he approached my table and got uncomfortably close to my face.\n\nI am not a good man. At least not in the way that my father was. But I am somebody and I can't not do something. \n\n\"I said LEAVE HER ALONE.\"\n\"We'll do whatever I want, aint that right princess.\"\n\n\nI find myself thinking about the social contract: the idea that people, when they are a part of a civilization, willingly give up some of their freedoms for the sake of security and in order to build a peaceful society. One of these freedoms is the freedom to commit acts of violence. We surrender that freedom so that we can live in a more peaceful society. Sometimes I question the wisdom of treating those that refuse to behave with civility like they are part of our civilization. \n\n\"No, that's not right. You'll sit down, shut up and let everyone finish their meal in peace.\"\n\"Screw you buddy\"\n\nPerhaps our society would be more civil if there was more violence in it as strange as it sounds. Used to be if you insulted a man you could expect to be punched at the very least. It was a more brutal and uncaring world. However it was a lot more polite.\n\n\"I just want to eat my pancakes and I can't do that while you're harassing that young lady.\"\n\nThen he punched me. Which prompted the young lady in question to vacate the premise. Making the dreadful decision I knew I had already made in my heart a bit easier. Good men like my father are a rarity these day's or maybe it just seems that way because there are too many people like this around. And I'm not much better than them. Perhaps society would be better of without people like us in it. I'm glad that the young woman will not be here to see this. I was too young when I first witnessed death. I take a deep breath and draw the pistol from behind my back.\n\nP.S. I've never been much of a writer and I'm on a quest to improve any suggestions and criticism would be more than welcome, thanks. " ]	2
	[WP] You explain the concept of 'Rageblading'	[ "They say the blade is the extension of ones own being. In Talmasca, the land of the blade, that is for certain. For centuries, Talmasca has been in civil war. The country has been split up by moral code. The concept of rageblading frightens many; blademasters of old still gasp at its tremendous power. Since it is a relatively new technique with grave consequences if one loses control, it has been widely forbidden for a long time. However, a new, anarchistic movement - \"The Sinners\" uses this technique and actively support it. They claim it is a basic human right: the ability to express one's self.\n\nRageblading is an extension of ones being. It was discovered by an overbearing student who decided that he would protect his academy from the ravenous wild creatures the roam Talmasca, Jaar. It is mostly students using this technique, trying to follow in the original's footsteps.\n\nRageblading is the technique of infusing ones rage into his or her blade. This enables special properties in ones blade, including: elemental damage, higher reach, increased sharpness, durability, and ranged attacks that can be streamed from the blade. The magnitude of each effect is dependent on how angry the user is at the moment he infuses his blade. Other emotions such as sadness and happiness have also been rarely known to work for the technique.\n\nThe effect rageblading has on your blade depends on your personality; your individual being. It tailors your blade to your liking. Perhaps you are of an ardent nature, and you blade becomes coated in fire hot enough to sear metals. Maybe it lingers with a poison that slings off the blade and is toxic to living beings. The possibilities are unlimited.\n\nThe other side of the coin, the old blademasters, have been combating the Sinners. Their stoic nature is a powerful tool indeed. The way of the blade is now contested. Which extension is most powerful?", "Takeo had heard the rumors, there were probably very few in the Ronin circuit who had not. The tales of legend used to deter the less adventurous to abandon a writ or mission and claim default seceding from it. Independent samurai were becoming the norm, especially in the Kyoto villages. One included a blind swordsman that had never been defeated, he would often make jokes of his peers mistakes and attribute them to not being blind enough.\n\n\nThe other however, he learned was true on all accounts, of a Ronin who had gone mad and served the highest bidders amongst the imperialist elite. A man named Okada, a name Takeo had known since childhood when his uncle would bring him to Konoguchi village for kenjutsu sparring. Takeo had now witnessed the ghost samurai himself, but whether or not the boy he knew from that village was the same person he could not tell.\n\nThe outlying villages had named the ronin \"Hitokiriizou\", a more appropriate title would be unhinged killer. Showing no restraint, hesitation. or remorse for any in his way. A blunt polarity to every social restraint that held a traditional samurai to his retainer. Takeo had been on his third day of an escort writ, when it happened.\n\nThe caravan was led by the most veteran swordsmen and the unnamed lord hidden in the ox drawn carriage. A total of forty eight foot men including himself encompassed the coach. The entourage had been less than five hours from the destination, walking through a curved trail in the forest. A lone hooded individual stood in the path as the trail evened out, the lead swordsman halted the caravan assessing the situation.\n\nHe warned the individual to deviate from the path or risk getting shot down, three minutes passed as the hooded figure remained like a statue. The primary ordered the archers forward hoping it would scare the man ahead, but he did not move. Irritated, he gave the order to release the arrows. The hooded man drew his sword and began sprinting, screaming with such ferocity it was almost comical.\n\nMany of us laughed at the concept of one man fighting fifty as the arrows landed around him one piercing his shoulder, another cutting his scalp open to where flesh was hanging. The screaming intensified and the arrows did not seem to phase him in the slightest, this worried the primary and he ordered the men to take a defensive blockade. Takeo joined the line laughing with the others in the back, when a panic gripped him at the sight of a flying head hit the ground next to him.\n\nHumor transitioned instantly to fear, intensely loud guttural ki and screaming made it worse, Takeo could barely see what was happening. Blood sprayed from every direction several men already lay dead various limbs falling to the dirt. The sheer panic incited some to run forgetting their duty to the lord in the carriage. \n\nTakeo decided to break the line and saw the man get fully impaled in the gut but it only made him grunt and slice through the owners entire chest. He was at a loss for words, he had never before seen such anger in combat. The mysterious warrior did not make direct eye contact with his kills, as if they were some bothersome pest. Takeo raised his sword as the man got closer but did not dare engage him and he knew for certain as the man pulled the katana from his gut that if he did not run he would surely die.\n\nFour more men attacked simultaneously and the mad blade wielder struck heavily in a circular fashion cutting each of their blades to half the size while slicing their throats open. A nightmare, Takeo thought, backing up and dropping his blade, as the few remaining ronin engaged the man fearlessly. They too were cut down as the man made his way to the carriage, the lord inside could be heard stammering and begging for his life.\n\nTakeo began running with the other deserters looking back in motion at his shame, filled with jealousy at such immense unforgiving power. He would make his way back to Kyoto and tell the tale of a single man rageblading through an entire troop of swordsmen. How he survived the encounter with the legendary swordsman Izo.\n\nForgive the context of narrative this was written in a hurry. " ]	2
	[WP] The year is 3014. Earth is protected by a sub-race of humans called Elementalists, humans that can bend the elements to their will, from raiding aliens looking for a valuable material within Earth's core.	[ "Water. Earth. Fire. Air. My grandmother used to tell me stories about the old days, a time of peace when the Avatar kept balance between the Water Tribes, Earth Kingdom, Fire Nation, and Air Nomads. But that all changed when the Fire Nation attacked. Only the Avatar mastered all four elements. Only he could stop the ruthless firebenders. But when the world needed him most, he vanished. A hundred years have passed and the Fire Nation is nearing victory in the War. Two years ago, my father and the men of my tribe journeyed to the Earth Kingdom to help fight against the Fire Nation, leaving me and my brother to look after our tribe. Some people believe that the Avatar was never reborn into the Air Nomads, and that the cycle is broken. But I haven't lost hope. I still believe that somehow, the Avatar will return to save the world.", "Cool prompt, I just ran out of time! I'll try to come back to this later and clean it up and build on it a bit.\n\n\"Abandon shaft procedure alpha, prepare for raid\" I looked up from my desk and reached for my hard hat. \"Abandon shaft procedure alpa, prepare for raid\" Another raid? So soon? How are they hitting us so fast? \"abandon shaft procedu....\" I turn off the com, open the door and step out onto the metal deck outside my office. Bellow me I can see the miners and their super heavy asteroid class equipment begin the short sprint to the temporary armored hanger. Like that will help these poor souls now...\n\nMy name is Elat Das. My station, Coltan Astroid #3, the largest known reserve in our solar system weighing in at about 300 trillion pounds. A little less than Mount Everest. Until about 10 years ago we were just another earth mining contingent sent out to fuel the ever growing consumption of earth's massive population. Now we were the front line of defense. Hell, I was the front line of defense. 100 elementalists born in the last 45 years and I was the only tale sad enough to get earth. Useless. Filthy. Dirt.\n\nI saw the commander speeding towards me in his sad excuse for a response vehicle. He was easy to identify winding and bobbing through the small tide of super class mining equipment heading in the other direction. \"Das, report to transportation\". That's right, while every other elemental in the system was fighting from the interior of the brand new battle cruiser I was fighting in a god damn space suit from a modified cuttings carrier. Open bed. Whatever, it does the job. \"Yes Sir, just getting my suit on sir\".\n\n I clap my hands and spread them wide falling belly flop style onto the hard silicon based rock bellow. I hit the hard jagged rock and I let it cling to me. It missed me, I can tell, it's eager to soil my pores and muck up my hair. It wraps me up. It fills my mouth. It floods my nose. It hardens my lungs. I feel it start to work it's way into my soft tissues. Then the shot of pain as it forces into the hard tissues. Removing my precious flesh and replacing it with stone, with crystal, with diamond. With coldness. I stand up and brush some dirt off my elbow, realize what I've done as my polycrystaline skin scrapes against itself and laugh. \"ready sir\".\n\n3 minutes later and I'm in the back bed of the cutter. A craft that resembles a large cylindrical pipe stuffed with dirt more than one of mankind's fastest vehicles. The Bay doors open as it rumbles into life and lifts us towards the atmosphere gate. I won't die, but I brace for what's coming anyway. It's not easy being the only being in the universe that knows the true embrace of empty space. I get hit by the chill and negative pressure instantly as the gate opens to let us pass.\n\nAs I stand surrounded by the silt and boulders that have been deemed valueless I start shaping them absent mindedly into javalin's. It's my power, I can fight with what ever weapon I want and today \"Javalin\" had a nice ring to it. I glance, up holding the perfect javelin I just pulled from the heart of a boulder in my left hand, scanning the horizon for visual contact. There it is. I throw the spear as much with my mind, with my soul, with my being, as I do with my strength. It accelerates to nearly 9/10ths the speed of light in an instant and I feel the craft beneath me screech and enter a spin as it attempts to counter the inertia of it. 14 hundreths of a second later I see the small dot on the horizon become a slightly larger spark... I smile.. Reach for another spear, search for another target, and wait for the pilot to level out our spin. ", "With a sudden blast, the walls of the facility came apart. In the absence stood a group of strange people with painted green skin and silver jumpsuits. \n\nGraig had no idea what to make of them, only that trouble was brewing. \n\n\"Greetings mere Earthing\" One of the creatures said, making sure each vowel was stressed with monotonic fashion. \"We had arrive from Planet Corruptapus to concur and raid, allow us access to the elevator of your mines or face the dire consequences\" \n\nGraig stood with a expression of confusion, \"What? Why would you want the elevator of Cayuga mines?\" \n\n\"This is the deepest mine within the appropriate confines of America, we demand to ride your elevator to the center of the earth, to rob it of its precious Ultranite.\" \n\nGraig had lost all patience with them, \"This mine is not that deep and besides the point, our core has no Ultra-whatever, it's mostly nickle.\" \n\n\"Fool, do not deceive us, why else would you cover your core with miles of thick outer shell and magma if there was nothing valuable there? Ultranite is the most expensive material out there, costing ten trillion space-dollars a gilagram. Give us your Ultranite or perish.\" \n\nSuddenly another hole was burst through the wall; out from it came other individuals dressed in bad hero cosplay. \n\n\"Stop evil Corruptapians, we know your plans for villainy\" One said bravely posing before them all. \n\n\"Oh no, they are here to ruin our plans, stop them\" the leader of the Corruptipians cried. \n\nTwo of the aliens charged forward but where knock out by the heroes. \n\n\"I'm sorry, but who are you guys\" Graig asked. \n\n\"We are the Elementalists\" they sang, \"We manipulate the four fundamental elements of nature to stop tyranny and promote goodness\" \n\n\"Like that show Avatar?\" \n\n\"No..... We manipulate actual elements\" \n\n\"NEON\" One yelled, waving their arms around. \n\n\"TUNGSTEN\" Another one joined in. \n\n\"EINSTEINIUM\" The leader of the group sang. \n\n\"CARBON\" The shorted one screamed pointing at the aliens. \n\nWith a sickening splatter, all the carbon in the aliens was ripped out, killing them instantly. \n\n\"WHAT THE HELL\" screamed Graig, now covered in alien blood. \n\n\"We saved the day again\" The Elementalists cheered before running back out the hole. \n\nGraig stood in the middle of the wreckage around him, wondering how many other people were once witnesses to this scene of events. \n\n_______________________________________________\n\nMeanwhile in space.......\n\n\"Queen Kirzarador, we failed the mission\" one of the aliens cried. \n\n\"No worries my loyal friend, we will find the Ultranite eventually\" She said, though with a trace of uncertainty in her voice. \n\n\"The children of the ship are getting sicker by the minute, if we don't find that Ultranite now, they'll.......\" \n\n\"Hush\" Kirzarador interrupted, \"We'll accomplish nothing with a negative attitude.\" \n\n " ]	3
Over on /r/wtf I saw a terrible image of razor blades being glued all over a children's playground (http://i.imgur.com/XmGVGTb.jpg). One suggestion is that only a deeply delusional or disturbed mind could do this act. I don't mean to downplay the nature of this crime but instead to explore the twisted psychological state that is required for such extreme actions. Write the story of someone who realizes they have committed a terrible act - whether it be delusion that cleared, memory that lost its fog, or some other mechanism. What does one do when they discover they may be a monster?	[WP] A woman discovers she has committed an atrocious act.	[ "\"I didn't mean to!\"\n\nIn that moment she seemed so young. So innocent. How could she, she of all people, have done this? As I watched the tears from her eyes I almost didn't want to do it. I almost wanted to let her go. Tell her to go home. Take care of the children.\n\nAnd then I remembered what she had done.\n\n-\nI had received an anonymous call. I still don't know who it was. I don't really care anymore. They told me to come to the house as soon as possible. I didn't. I assumed it was a prank call. But better safe than sorry. At this point I almost wish I hadn't left.\n\nI pulled into the driveway and got out of the car. I didn't see all the sings.. The car in the driveway at 1 in the afternoon on a monday. The door unlocked, even slightly open. The lights off everywhere. Everywhere except the bedroom. \n\nI heard before I saw. But it wasn't real until I saw. Saw what she did. Saw her... and him. He saw me first. He ran. Just left the house. I was too stunned to act. But then I wasn't. I went to the wardrobe and grabbed my lockbox. In the background I could hear \"I'm sorry\" and other words. Words didn't matter anymore. They didn't matter any more than the \"I love you\" I heard this morning. \n\nI turned, gun in hand, and she ran. Out the front door. Across the lawn. She tripped and fell in the street. I was right behind her.\n\n\"I didn't mean to!\"\n\nIn that moment she seemed so young. So innocent. How could she, she of all people, have done this? As I watched the tears from her eyes I almost didn't want to do it. I almost wanted to let her go. Tell her to go home. Take care of the children.\n\nAnd then I remembered what she had done.\n\nAs at her through the sight of the gun I convinced myself one last time that she deserved this.\n\nI pulled the trigger...\n\n-\nAfter writing I realize I kind of went off topic. Whoopsies. ", "I'm just going to write the first thing that came to my mind when I read the prompt, before seeing the description...\n\n\n\"Oh my!\" she gasped as she brought her hand to cover her mouth.\n\nShe looked around. She was on a crowded street. Had anyone heard? \n\nShe twisted the ball of her foot against the sole of her shoe, trying to re-create the sound. \n\nThe crowd split behind her, she saw mounds of hands dashing to noses, and scarves quickly draped twice across faces. \n\nAn infant cried out. \n\n\"Oh my,\" she cringed again, gasping through her nose. She was on the verge of tears, and not just from the embarrassment.\n \nThere was a sudden screech of tires as a boy darted from behind her and into the street.\n\n--THUMP--\n\nShe turned to look, then quickly turned back and darted away, scolding herself again,\n\n\"Oh my, I shall never have beans again.\"\n\n\nedit: threw/through, a space" ]	2
Scratch, scratching, scratches and any similar words are all off limits! No references to what rap artists do to vinyl records either :p	[WP] Describe the feeling of itchiness without ever using the word or referring to the idea/action of scratching	[ "I don't know what's wrong with me. I get this tingly feeling sometimes on random parts of my body. It's vaguely unpleasant and I always feel like I need to do something about it, but I have no idea what. Sometimes it feels like a hundred ants are crawling all over me and I just want to brush them all away. Other times, when I get this feeling, I imagine a tiny tree with microscopic roots burrowing down into my skin. I can feel the roots spreading out, taking hold of me. . . Maybe I can dig them out with something! Would that make this feeling go away, would it work? Am I going crazy? \nIt worked! Ah, much better. I'm not crazy.", "There's an annoying sensation that pops up on random parts of one's body. You simply cannot ignore it! It ebbs away at your very sanity by it's very presence. \n\nStill, you feel the need to rid yourself of such a sensation. Perhaps you will grab an object and vigorously scrub said affected spot? Or perhaps you will use your own fingernails to dig at the sensation that ails you. \n\nThere is nothing more satisfying than when one claws away at a patch of skin that suffers from such a tingling sensation. The satisfaction could be akin to a mild euphoria. Sadly, as things often go, once one rids themselves of such an annoying sensation, it usually comes back in another spot. ", "It was hardly anything. But, if you will hear me out, the accumulation of many small, minor, seemingly insignificant emotions, feelings and gestures all add up. \n\nImagine a nice hot summer day. Now imagine, after a nice BBQ in the backyard with a few brews and a good novel you fall asleep. When you wake up, you realize that you have been the victim of a most heinous theft. You try to find the burglar, but the only mark is a red lump on your skin. The irritation, the frustration, the never ending desire to fulfill your innermost desire! No amount of agonizing relief is enough to satisfy your needs, the most ancient and modern remedies don't help, and at the end of that summer's day, you walk into bed. Dejected, hopelessly filled with regret. Your body's needs still stinging with the pain of defeat.\n\n\nAnd somehow, you manage to fall asleep...\n\n\nBut then...\n\n\nBzzzzzZZZzzzzzzzzZZzzzz...\n\nBlasted mosquitoes...", "There was something there. No matter how hard, I could not ignore it. I tried my best to focus and figure out wether it was on top of my skin or underneath it. I couldn't put my finger on it, but when I did put my finger on it and dug my nail into it, I could no longer feel its presence on my skin. The act sent a minor euphoria through my body; my eyes watered and I felt like I could not stop. " ]	4
What does he say? How do you feel?	[WP] Your best friend finds your journal, which is filled with incriminating evidence against you.	[ "It was a mistake. \n\nThere it was underneath the covers of his sheets, the tip of a mahogany-brown leather spine protruded out just barely. I could almost smell the aged paper, the oily black ink within. \n\nIt did not matter what was written inside, only the fact that it exists was enough to incriminate us both. \n\nIt was my folly, I had to see if he was on my side and by knowing, we now must suffer the consequences. \n\nAll I did was glance, just a single glance around the room, but they captured it all. They used me to find him, they know all. \n\nI could only wait in fear as the telescreen flickered behind me. ", "\"Donny...what is this? WHAT IS THIS DONNY?!\", the words came at me like projectiles. I look at Ian's face, I looked at him...and I knew...I knew he would never look at my the same way again. That journal he was holding...it detailed every single day of my life since I had joined this gang...this mob. And everyone knew the Irish were slow to forgive, and even slower to forget.\n\nI had only a few seconds now, before there would be a gun pressed against my temple, before there would be nothing for me to say to protect myself. \"Ricotta pumpkin,\" I spit out, relaxing when he fell into a sleep. My guys hadn't been sure the hypnosis would have long term effects...but it worked. Thank God...it saved my life. Never again would I doubt the powers of a hypnotist. \n\nBut that was neither her nor there. While I could I manipulated his arms so that they were behind him, and then tied them together. When I woke him up, all he would see would be me, holding him at gunpoint.\n\n\"Wake,\" I uttered nervously, and watched as he spasmed in his place. \"Donny...what happened?\" he asked, so sure that I was there to help him...and then he looked up...and that look of disdain...it killed me. \"So what...you're going to kill me now? After everything we've been through?\" He spat in my direction, and I could do nothing but look at the floor. \n\n\"No Ian. I'm going to bring you in now. You're under arrest.\"", "\"What the actual fuck is this Mark?\" Jason was holding my journal tightly.\n\nI shouldn't have let him enter inside my room, it was the biggest mistake of my life.\n\n\"J-jason, it's not what you think\"\n\n\"Mr. Jenkins?\"\n\nrrrriiippp\n\n\"Mrs. Velma\"\n\nrrriiiipppp\n\n\"Mr. Beagle? The science teacher?\"\n\nI teared a little, each time he ripped one page of my victims. I dedicated each page of that journal on one victim; I wrote how I tortured them, made them suffer, and how I brutally killed them.\n\nJason read one passage in my journal out loud. \n\n\"Ms. Benson was a waste of good looks...she could have been a professional pornstar, instead she worked as a teacher. I'll show her what happens on wrong decisions tonight, 9:00 pm\"\n\nJason looked at me with disgust, he backed away slowly. I was beginning to get nervous at that point. I can't really stop him if he tells the police.\n\n\"You monster, you're disgusting!\"\n\nHe threw the journal over the room, letting the my precious pictures of my tortured victims, fly across the room. He was sweating, his eyes was as red as mine.\n\n\"I'm your bestfriend\" he stuttered\n\n\"I-I'm R-Really sorry J-ason, I---\"\n\n\"No, I can't believe you didn't count me in on this\"\n\nMy eyes widen, I wiped the tears that were running across my cheeks.\n\n\"I though were bestfriends, we do everything together, right?\"\n\nI was confused; my face gave an expression of a commoner visiting an art museum, looking at a blank paper...figuring out why it was called fear.\n\n\"We'll make a better one, a better compilation, this time...\"\n\nHe wiped his crying eyes. A smile painted itself across his devious face.\n\n\"It will be the two of us\"\n\nFrom that moment on, he dedicated his life on designing torture plans, and trap blue prints.\n\nI shouldn't have let him enter inside my room, it was the biggest mistake of my life." ]	3
	[WP] Make me pee: A challenge to write the most gut-bustingly hilarious story possible	[ "There are many moments of fear in our lives. There are countless ways and opportunities for us to be scared out of our pants every single day. But NONE of them are even remotely as gut-wrenchingly terrifying as the moment you're driving alone, unarmed, and see a spider crawling across your windshield.\n \n\nParalyzed, you watch it for a moment. Is it on the inside or the outside? Panic and adrenaline pulse through your veins as you realize it is on YOUR side of the protective glass barrier that is supposed to keep you safe. \n \n\nIt begins to crawl up the windshield, directly in front of you, and you realize your sun visor is down. Crap, crap, crap....it's about to disappear behind it. If you flip up the sun visor, you could panic the spider, sending it on a free fall into your lap. You leave it. It creepily crawls to where it is hidden from view.\n \n\nYou turn on the inside light (because of course, these things only happen at night). You still don't see it. Between glances at the road, you're frantically searching for it, convinced it's plotting an attack on your hair. Suddenly, you become itchy everywhere. You are convinced there is an ARMY of spiders crawling ALL OVER YOU. It has twelve million eyeballs that you can't even see, but you KNOW...it's watching you.\n \n\nYou warn it: \"Spider, if you jump on me we will BOTH die in a fiery car wreck!\"\n \n\nYou try to forget about it...if you don't, you're certain you will crash into someone. You try to sing with the radio a little...but the image of a spider descending from its silky web into your open mouth shuts you up quickly.\n \n\nYou realize at some point that in an attempt to distance your face from the top of the sun visor, you're leaning back in your seat to an uncomfortable extreme. You are pushing against it so hard, you feel as if you are becoming the seat.\n \n\nYou laugh it off. You're almost home....\n \n\nThen you realize, if you make it home and the spider has disappeared, you will only be allowing it to breed in your car, and it will release thousands of spider babies where you sit for 40 minutes a day.\n \n\nYou try to wrap your mind around the dilemma, but suddenly you see it again.\n \n\n A strange, guttural squeal escapes from your body as it makes its way back down the windshield, stopping half way. Quickly, you pull into the parking lot of a closed pawn shop in a bad neighborhood. A couple of shady people are hanging out nearby, but who cares? Maybe they will help you kill the spider.\n \n\nThe thing is nice enough to stay put on your windshield long enough for you to park and fold up a random piece of paper. You raise up your weapon, ready to strike, and then realize you are also in the line of fire. If you smack it improperly, it could counter-srike, sending you into a shameless panic in a tiny metal box.\n \n\nYou open the door and gingerly step out so as not to frighten it. You raise the folded paper once again, but pause. Is this really the best weapon? It's floppy...unstable. If your aim isn't perfect, instead of smashing it, you will simply offer it something to jump on to...the paper, then your hand.\n \n \nSo there you are...standing in an scary, empty parking lot with a thuggish audience, wearing only one shoe, pirouetting slightly as you strike your opponent. In that decisive moment of impact, you think for an instant you missed and drop your right shoe, hopping away a little on your left foot. Then, as the smoke clears and you see that satisfying smudge on your windshield, relief washes through your entire body.\n \n\nYou quickly get back into your car, now raising the bad neighborhood threat up to number one of your \"Immediate Threats to Your Wellbeing\" list. \n \n\nAfter locking your doors, you decide to leave the smudge on your windshield for now. Courageous woman warriors should not have to pick up the corpses of past victories. That is what husbands are for.", "Hey, have we met? No? Ah, screw it. Want to join me for a drink? I will admit I'm a few deep but I'll have another with you if you pull up a chair. Here, try this one on for size while I tell you about something that happened to me. It was a coupl- Huh? No, its not a long story. Well, maybe. Just hear me out, now. It was a couple of days ago... \n\nYou ever have those dreams that you can't tell what's real from what's in your head? Well I was in the middle of one and boy was it a doozy. I was flying one of those old Sopwith Camels in WWI, while bullets flew thick and fast. Flak bloomed around my plane like black thunder. One of my wings was hit and I nearly blacked out from the impact. Shaking off the cobwebs, I saw with increasing horror that the right side of my aircraft was ablaze. So naturally, pants were shat. \n\nThis was when I realized that the plane I was in was really just a quarter kiddie ride. The flames were just the lights of the nearby Rocketship Rocker. And that I was also incredibly drunk. The only thing that was real was one I was hoping wasn't. My pants were, indeed, shat. Shit. I thought. The airplane whizzed in place as I sat, bleary eyed in my own filth. I clambered out with some difficulty. \n\nOkay, it was damn near impossible. \n\nWhen I extracted myself I wheezed from the exertion for a few seconds and wished for a cigarette. A ten year old watched me as he sucked on his thumb. \n\n\"Kid,\" Says I. \"Do NOT go in there.\" This met with no response from the tyke. I snapped my fingers at him a few times. Same blank stare and thumb sucking. \n\nFreakin' weird. \n\nI cut my losses and waddled away as casually as a wasted guy could. The huge load didn't help much either, to be honest. \n\nI decided I needed two things. \n\nOne, a fresh pair of undies. Or pants. I could really use some new pants. Maybe some socks too? I was afraid to check the extent of the damage.\n\nWait, what was I doing? \n\nOh yeah. \n\nTwo. I need to get out of public. Why the hell was I drunk at three in the afternoon? What was I doing in that plane ride? \n\nAnd three. I really needed something greasy. Damn, was I hungry. I would have eaten a carpet shark if it was the only thing nearby. Good thing that I saw a Papa John's nearby. There was no way in hell I was going to that Taco Bell. \n\n(Will finish soon)", "So, I was walking down the street and a bum kicked me in the balls. Now I'm dying and going to hell. I'm in hell and the devil tells me to go to the liquor store to get him some coffee. When I leave the coffee shop with the devil's liquor I see the same bum who killed me, so I kick him in the balls. And that's how I save Christmas. ", "\"Basic Cadet Snoo, are you laughing!?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir!\"\n\n\"Why are you laughing, do you know what happened today!?\"\n\n\"No, si-\"\n\n\"BRUCE WILLIS DIED TODAY! Do you hate Bruce Willis!?\"\n\n\"No, sir!\"\n\n\"THEN WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING AT HIS DEATH!?\"\n\n\"No excuse, si-\"\n\n\"Today is a day of national tragedy! We need to memorialize his death. Pick up one of those rocks!\"\n\n[Does so]\n\n\"This is now the Bruce Willis Memorial Rock. What should we name it!?\"\n\n\"Sir, I do not kno-\"\n\n\"WE'RE GONNA NAME IT BRUCE! From now until the end of Basic, you will carry Bruce with you at all times! If I ask you how Bruce is doing, you will show me Bruce and sound off 'Yippekaiyay, sir.\" Do you understand!?\"\n\n\"Yes, sir!\"\n\n\"How's Bruce!?\"\n\n\"YIPPEKAIYAY, SIR!\"\n\n[Please deposit your karma here](https://pay.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/21enqf/military_personnel_of_reddit_whats_the/cgcc8m8), credit should go to /u/thehonestyfish\n\nPS: Fist post to this sub, if I'm not allowed to do this, please delete.", "-085\n\nHis name was Mathern. He was a hillbilly. We called him Hillbilly Willie, because he answered to it. These are the tales we tell of him.\n\nWhen Willie was sixteen, he'd already graduated to adulthood. He'd sexed more girls than a highschool volleyball coach, and fought more men than an army of lesbians trapped in Russia. He was a fighter. He was a lover. He rarely mixed the two.\n\nI moved back to hometown in '92. Willie was sixteen. The weekend I arrived, Lori Brewer dared Stevie Cox to shoot him in the nuts with a pellet gun. Stevie was a kind of shit head and the only reason he dared it was because Willie had spent twelve hours hauling hay, then followed it up with four hours under a truck till one in the morning installing a transmission. He was passed out asleep when they shot him in the nuts.\n\nHe was a fighter, but even fighters call a truce when their left nut is swelled to the size of a grapefruit. He walked about town for two weeks, walking severly bow-legged, hunched forward like and old man. Lucky for him, he had the love of a good woman to distract him. Twelve days after being shot in the nuts, he and his woman had an argument. Jeff Tigman, another man moving in on Willie's woman, stopped them on a dirt road coming home. \n\nNuts knocking, Willie climbed from the cab of her truck, she got out to try and diffuse the situation. Jeff was yelling at Willie. Willie was yelling at Jeff. The woman they were growling over got pissed and left Willie on the side of the road. While he was distracted, Jeff kicked him in his grapefruit, then ran away before Willie could recover. It sounds serious, but Willie, he was made of hardy stuff. He did what only Willie could do. He crawled a mile and half to his house, to sick from the pain to stand, soaked his brutalized balls in a bath water and ate pain killers till his jewels stopped throbbing. We thought it was funny as hell.\n\nSitting in on the porch swing, we watched him dress in the yard afterward. We watched him slip on three pairs of underwear, dress in blue jeans, get shod, jam on his derby, and pull on a t-shirt, and all in preparation for the hunt. He drove to six nearby towns looking for the bastard that kicked him in the nuts, and found him in the parking lot of a bowling alley thirty miles from home surrounded by a dozen of his best friends.\n\nHillbillies don't fight like normal civilized men. They have been known to bite. They have been known to gouge the other guy's eyes, use unorthodoxed forms of red-neck kung fu, and many fighting secrets garnered from action movies spanning not one, not two, but three decades of film. But, never in the history of hillbilly lore has a man who was shot in the nuts with a pellet gun, then kicked in those same nuts with a work boot ever attempted to fight thirteen other hillbillies.\n\nWillie was the first. He couldn't run. He couldn't kick. He came galloping across the parking lot like a silver back gorilla, half skipping half lurching, ignored twelve strangers, vaulted into the air on his last lurch and came down with a blue collar fist of fury. Jeff, in later conversations, could only describe the punch as something with a runny-nose falling out of the sky; something red, growling my nuts then whimpering in pain. Twelve strangers, friends to the fallen, fell back in fear and confusion. They said Willie didn't tower like a god, but bent over their fallen comrade like a hunch-back guarding its kill. \n\nThis story was retold many times and hillbillies there embellished it, building upon it, until Willie was viewed as nothing less than a demi-god among men. This caused problems. He couldn't go anywhere without his friends starting shit with strangers just to see Willie put them down.\n\n\"Hey, you can take him.\" Chris Bates would say, indicating the man with a jerk of his head.\n\n\"Leave it alone. I don't want to fight.\" Willie would say.\n\n\"You just need more to drink.\" Chris would say. Willie shook his head but took the drink he was offered. \"You can take him.\" Chris would press.\n\n\"No I can't. He's too big.\" Willie would say, drinking his drink.\n\n\"You got this. He ain't that big.\" Chris argued. Willie would drink some more.\n\n\"Well, maybe.\" Willie would admit grudgingly.\n\n\"Hey, chicken shit. My buddy is going to kick your ass.\" Chris always ended up shouting.\n\n\"Shut up. I don't want to fight.\" Willie would snap.\n\n\"Is that right. You're going to kick my ass?\" The stranger would say. It usually took for or five minutes to determine if Chris was right. But in the end, Willie would be flexed, bruised and bleeding, while the other guy was just unconscious. \n\n\"See. I told you.\" Chris would say with a superior air, and a satisfied smile.\n\nThis happened a lot. Most of the time it was in the Owl's Nest bar, but once it happened down on the river. Chris's minions would taunt the rednecks canoing by. Chris would make sure Willie had a bottle. Willie would swear he didn't want to fight, but those in the canoes would always take the bait, paddle for shore, and fight big bald blonde version of bigfoot too drunk to string more than a couple of words together. \n\nIf they didn't take the bait, Chris would keep whispering lies in Willie's ear, until in a rage, he'd tear off down the trail, race up to the old half-bridge then barrel into the river, capsizing his targets canoe. This was fun for them. Willie would tell his tales, even when he lost, with a shy smirk when he was sober and a cocky grin when was lit up. It all ended the day he got married.\n\nWillie married Chris's cousin. She wouldn't let Chris bait Willie anymore. For us, those who call him brother and friend, we thought the good days were over. We thought Willie-isms were over. Never again would we laugh after he'd slammed on the brakes in response to his girlfriend declaring it was, \"about fucking time,\" only to hear him say, \"really?\" with an eager gleam in his eye. Never again would we see him hold up our infant nephew and declare he's hung like a tick. We thought the days of laughter were over. Nope.\n\nI was sitting at his father-in-laws table. Willie and his wife had just gotten married and were down at their place enjoying their wedding night rewards. Willie had too much to drink. All the rocking motion from sex upset his stomach. They hadn't gotten their power turned on. He rushed down the hall, looking for the back door to throw up. Threw open the door and vomited. Feeling better, he reached over and opened the bathroom door and stumbled outside. In the dark, he'd gotten turned around. It was his bedroom door he opened, and their water bed he vomited on. Good times.\n\nThe last time I saw Willie was after a fight with his wife. She'd locked herself in the bathroom at her father's house. After fighting for nearly two hours and her refusing to come out of the bathroom, getting her out became less about winning the fight, and more about needing the use of the facilities. He railed. He pleaded. He nearly cried. His bowels were in dire straits, and his wife had blocaded the channel.\n\nDesperate, he did what only a true hilly billy would. He used the sixty year old out house in the back yard no one had used in over fifty years. We watched him walk into that shed. We watched him struggle to close that door, and after two hours of fighting with her husband, we didn't think anything would bring his wife out of there. Then again, she, nor us, had ever heard Willie scream before. It was a first. Hell, that day was filled with first. I'd never seen anyone use an outhouse before. I'd never heard my little brother scream before. I never saw an outhouse being ripped apart by a hillbilly with his pants around his ankle before. I never saw a hillbilly crab his junk and crawl across the lawn like a inch worm before. There was probably a reason for all these first. Turned out there was a nest of red wasp as big as a grown man's hand under the lid of the toilet, and they were none to happy to discover my brother's junk pressed up against their apartment building.\n\nWhen I moved away two weeks after that, I found left Willie in much the same way I found him--hunched over, hobbling like an old man, and with painfully swollen and impossibly large wedding tackle his wife wanted to try out, but he couldn't bring himself to use. \n\nThis is the story of Willie, my little brother. ", "I met Mitchell down by the old theatre. I waved at him then promptly slashed his throat open with a 4 inch shiv I had hidden in my sleeve. He started clawing at his throat but it was redundant. I wasn't done with him quite yet. I pushed his fat ass over and gutted him like a pig. It was only when I started pulling his intestines out that he started to piss himself. It was absolutely disgusting. I looked down at the shriveled mess of a man, blood oozing out of every orifice imaginable and uttered the last words he'd ever hear. \"It's not delivery, it's a Mitchell\" \n\nHours later at a little hole in the wall cafe I realized Mitchell died hearing the worst joke imaginable. What a shame. ", "\"Time to smoke some crack, boy\" Germain exclaimed. Taking a deep puff from his phallus shaped pipe, he began to come up with a master plan. \"7-11\" he said with a mad gleam in his eye. Throwing down the smoking glass penis, he hopped into his tricked out 2005 Acura TL. With the sweet rims and cream seats. He was truly the envy of his broke ass neighbors. The lack of a muffler also substantially added to the hater factor, especially in the early morning hours.\n\nFlicking the middle finger to the old zombie looking curmudgeon that lived next door he was on his way. When you do 90mph and crank Soulja Boy to max volume even the cops don't fuck with you. \"Damn I'm thirsty\" Germain groaned, speeding up to 100mph. At this point traffic was getting a bit too heavy. Germain decided that he must drive on the shoulder of the road, hang out of his car with both middle fingers extended and shriek the chorus to Trap House 3.\n\nNow attempting to break the sound barrier the cops had to intervene. They quickly sped after the high and crazed Germain down the busy streets of wherever the fuck. Germain was now full on crazed. Jumping out of the car like a flying squirrel he crashed onto the hood of the police car. \"Holy fuck Jenkins\" exclaimed officer Wilson probably the whitest man to ever walk the face of the earth. \"This man is absolutely insane, we must arrest him!\". Germain wasn't done yet. Using his saber tooth grip he tore the top off of the police car and jumped in. Kicking out the cops and taking it over. Now doing close to 150 miles per hour there was no stopping him. Barreling down the highway whilst foaming from the mouth. The unexpectedly he crashed... \n\nWASTED!\n\nThe screen turned to gray and Thomas looked over at his friend. \"GTA is so unrealistic, fuck this game\". He then went on to play Titanfall all \nnight long.", "I have another that is a true story. I met this girl named Dee. Normally her race wouldn’t matter, but in this case it does. Dee was black. I’m white. Dee had a friend named Glenda who was also black and who, up until this moment, I had never met.\n\nDee had recently bought a new condo. Before buying it she asked several people, me included, our thoughts on her getting the place. All of us agreed that it was nice, but the new, very long commute would wear her down quickly. Glenda apparently had been very vocal in her warnings to Dee about buying this place.\n\nOne Friday Dee and I are hanging out. I spend the night and the next morning she has to go into work for a few hours. So Saturday morning we jumped in the shower and messed around a little then were going to get breakfast and she was going to head to work. I was paying a little more attention to washing her boobs than my body (in my defense I did a fantastic job, they were very clean). She got out of the shower and I stayed in for a few minutes to wash my hair.\n\nAfter finishing up and drying off I threw the towel over my shoulder and walked out of the bathroom. What I didn’t know is that Glenda had stopped by for a minute to bring Dee something (they worked together and Dee needed to take this item into the office). So I stroll out of the bathroom, bare ass naked, and there is Dee and Glenda having a conversation. \n\nI froze like a deer in headlights. Dee was clearly surprised, she thought she would have Glenda gone before I was done, so when she saw me she made a sound like a squawking bird. Glenda looked at me, tilted her head then looked at Dee and said, “If you had told me these places came with a naked white boy, I’d have bought one too!”\n", "“So, we’re rolling down the street heading for this café that makes great sandwiches to grab something for lunch. I’m in the passenger’s seat and my partner Mick is driving. I look over to my right and there, plain as day, on the sidewalk I see a drug deal going down. I show Mick, we pull over, and jump out of the car.\n\n“The buyer freezes in place and throws his hands in the air yelling ‘Don’t shoot me! Don’t shoot me!’ but the seller runs. I chase after him. We sprint down the block and he turns into an alley. As he turns into the alley I can see him shoving bags of drugs down his pants.\n\n“I round the corner and find the seller standing there with his hands over his head. It was a dead end so he knew he was caught. He asked me why I was chasing him and I told him I saw him selling drugs. He said he had nothing on him. I told him I saw him shove them down his pants. ‘You wanna reach down my pants like some kind fag and get a feel for yourself?’ he said to me. So I did the only thing I thought was right. I had to show this guy who was boss. I handcuffed him then looked him in the eye and reached my hand down the front of his pants. \n\n“The problem was the drugs had slipped down his pant leg so all I got was a handful of this guy’s junk. Right then Mick comes running around the corner and finds me with my hand down this guy’s pants basically feeling his balls. He doesn’t miss a beat. He just stops in his tracks, looks at me and says, ‘You guy’s need some time alone?’\n\n“This happened 14 years ago. To this day guys in the office ask me if I can check them for a hernia or if I need to practice my juggling.’\"\n", "*Sorry in advance, OP, if this is weird/annoying/unconventional, but my story needs context to understand. Actually, I feel like you'd have* to be either an English teacher or an English major to find any of this funny. Ah, screw it. \nSo, there was this AskReddit joke thread a while back, and one of the jokes was \n>Two whales walk into a bar. The first one says, \"Weeeeeooooouuuhhhh\". \nThe next whale says, \"Shut up, Steve. You're drunk.\" \n\nAnd /u/milqi replied to it with \n>I am using this in my classroom at some point. I have NO idea how, but it's far too cheesy to not use it. \n\nAnd I, on the account I used before I decided to make a writing account, decided I wanted to make it happen. Prepare for story:** \n\nTeacher: Okay, class, today we're going to learn-- \nmilqi: Twowhaleswalkintoabar!! \nTeacher: ...excuse me? \nmilqi: Two whales. Walk into. A bar. \nTeacher: (sigh) milqi, this isn't the time. \nmilqi: >.> \nTeacher: As I was saying: Today, we'll be learning about igneous rock. Now, igneous rock is a-- \nmilqi: One of them says-- \nTeacher: (whirls around) Who said that? \nmilqi: &amp;amp;lt;.&amp;amp;lt; \nmilqi: >.> \nTeacher: -\\_\\- \nmilqi: Go on. \nTeacher: (smh) Igneous rock is a special kind of rock--- \nmilqi: (whispering) So one of them says-- \nTeacher: --a special kind of rock-- \nmilqi: ---WEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUHH!!!!!!!--- \nTeacher: ---FORMED BY VOLCANIC ACTIVITY--- \nmilqi: ---AND THEN THE OTHER WHALE SAYS--- \nTeacher: MILQI. STOP. NOW. \nmilqi: ... \nTeacher: ... \nmilqi: ... \nTeacher: Thank you. Igneous-- \nmilqi: You're welcome. \nTeacher: Shut up, milqi. \nmilqi: Damnit. \nTeacher: Igneous rocks were first discovered by American petrographers. It is said that when the men realized what they were seeing, one of them turned to the other and said--- \nmilqi: SHUT UP, STEVE, YOU'RE DRUUUUUUUUUNK!!!!!!!! \n................. \n(Pinky and the Brain ending music) \n..... \n\nThere is more, though, haha. Because then, milqi informed me that \n>This is awesome... but I'm the [high school English] teacher in this scenario. Wanna rewrite? \n\nAnd I happily obliged. \n\n>[Here you go. I'm so sorry. :P] \n\nMilqisian: Salutations, O' students of mine! \nClass: Salutations, O' beloved teacher! \nMilqisian: Wherefore didst we last halt in our reading? \nOthello: I knowest not, dear teacher, respected lord. May we not then forego this exercise in favor of work more productive? \nMilqisian: Nay! And woe unto thee, Othello, for thy treacherous suggestion! \nOthello: Forgive me, my lord! \nMilqisian: Thou art, by my mercy, forgiven. Hold thee thy tongue in future time, and learn to speak only when thy name is spoken. \nOthello: Yes, my lord, by thy teaching, I shall. \nMilqisian: It is as thou hast spoken it. (looks around the room) Hear me, lichens: Our affairs appear to have been disrupted. What vile fiend has filched my Lessone Plannes? \nOphelia: My lord, is not this anachronous a spelling? \nMilqisian: Silence, foolish girl! I cannot think when thou art blubbering so! \nHoratio: Indeed, Ophelia, thou dost blubbereth as does the whale! \nOphelia: Thou wouldst maketh a mockery of me, Horatio?! \nHoratio: (high-pitched) Thou wouldst maketh a mockery of me, Horatio? \nClass: (laugheth) \nHoratio: I knowest not how a lowly female such as thyself has been graced with the honor of the tutelage of our peerless instructor. \nOphelia: One day, Horatio...one day... \nHoratio: Thy threats are as empty as thy head! \nTeacher: Fools, all of you. Hath the teacher no salvation from this torment? \nHoratio: If I may suggest it, my lord, it would serve thee well to ride this sea giant away, if thou so choosest. \nOphelia: (cheeks burning) Thou shalt know in time what plague thou dost so carelessly invoke upon thyself, swine. \nHoratio: (shrugs) This, to thine own self, be true. Until such a time as thou dost foresee, I prithee - get thee to a tavern. \nStephenian: And bring there with thee thy flabby whale companions, lest they become lonesome in thy drunken absence! \nMilqisian: Oh, Lord above, deliver me from this travesty of a school, that I may not succumb to my urges and lash these imbeciles this very instant, that I may not in my just rage cleave them in twain. \nHoratio: \"The Lord shall answer when He is called.\" So sayeth my philosophy, but alas, no savant hath the savior. \nOphelia: There are more things-- \nMilqisian: Nay. \nOphelia: My Lo-- \nMilqisian: I sayeth again: nay. Now hold thy tongue, little girl, unless thou feeleth within thee a hunger for pain. \nOphelia: They have challenged me! \nMilqisian: Do not waste my time with drivel about events I have seen in their unfolding. No, this farce must cease at once. (faces the class) It matters not whether my teaching materials are to be found here, for teach, I shall, and thou shalt learneth, with nary a sound. \nHoratio: Hark, Ophelia, thou hast been silenced! \nStephenian: How fortunate are we, no longer shall we suffer her WEEEEEEEEEOOOOOUUUHHH!!!!! upon our ears! \nHoratio: Indeed, it was ever an agonizing aural assault. \nStephenian: Yea, verily. \nOphelia: Silence thyself, Stephenian, thou art indeed thyself the drunkard. \nMilqisian: Didst I not warn thee against speech? \nOphelia: I spoke the third of them! \nMilqisian: Then thrice the punishment shall ye receive, for he who continues evil condones it, and he who condones it is as he who does it. Mark: to condone is to do, is to do again, added thus to the first doing - it is thrice. This is the law, and I shall uphold it, for ever has woman been defiant. \nHoratio: Lo, lo, let it be so. \nOphelia: This world is mad. \nStephenian: WEEEEEEEOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUHHHHH!!!!!!!!!", "Have you ever thought about the Niagara Falls? I hear it's beautiful this time of year. If you go there, you can take a boat straight to the foot of a waterfall and be surrounded by all the splashing water. Just gallons and gallons of water in a never-ending stream, rushing and gushing forth. Honestly, I think just letting all that water spray uselessly is such a waste, they should try and use the water the way they do at the Hoover dam. There's a whole process of pumping water through all these pipes and tubes that twist and turn thoughout the dam that charge these turbines that can power all sorts of things like basic plumbing and hot water. So don't leave a faucet running, as much as you may enjoy the sound of water splashing against ceramic, it's not only a waste of water, but electricity, too!", "\"Hey Steve, what's 14 times 17?\"\n\n\"I don't know man, 238 I think.\"\n\n\"Yeah, you got it. Look at you man, a regular mathmatist.\"\n\n\"It's actually mathematician.\"\n\n\"Look at you, a regular Linguimitician.\"\n\n\"Yeah Dave. Yeah.\"\n\n----\n\nProbably no where near as funny as I think it is, but I thought up this stupid scenario a while back." ]	12
	[WP] Your whole modern life is a lucid dream. Now you wake up into real life, the Middle Ages.	[ "I sat in my chair, the light dimly reflecting off the screen of my slightly worn laptop, trying to find the words to put down what I'd been thinking for so long. Christ, how am I gonna get this essay done? My eyelids feel heavy from the sleep I'd deprived myself of for so long in order to meet a deadline that wouldn't matter after a week.\n\nMy elbows began to hurt after leaning on them for so long. I rubbed them in order to cut out any more distractions. Just a little longer. Maybe it'd help if I put on some music. The tunes I grew accustomed to played through my headphones like they had been for so many years.\n\nA voice out of the corner of my ear calls callously: \"Claudius, why have you stopped copying those psalms?\" The music suddenly cuts off, the laptop fades away, and I find myself sitting in a wooden chair in a room lit only by candles and with walls made of, a sharpened quill in my hand and a fresh sheet of parchment laying on a darkened pine desk with notes scrawled in crudely made Latin. \n\nI look over to where the voice was coming from, only to be greeted by a gray-haired, aging monk sternly eying my progress; in his hand is a wooden cane, no doubt meant for striking slackers such as myself. I was lucky enough to be put through the monastic school, but I still had thoughts of what else there could be for me if only I could just free myself of my earthly body. \n\nI sheepishly look over to the elder monk. \"I apologize for my slacking, abbot,\" I say in a hushed tone, \"but I've grown tired from my work. Would it be alright if I retired to my chambers for the night?\"\n\nHis face relaxed a bit, perhaps sympathizing with me, and wordlessly motioned for me to leave the scriptorium. I bow before him in a gesture of gratitude. The abbot is merciful when he desires to be so, I muse to myself. ", "I woke up not knowing where I was. I heard someone saying my name;\n \"It's time to start the fire.\" she said.\n\n I sat dumbfounded for too long because the girl turned back to our straw bed.\n \"Are you alright Elizabeth? You did faint last night but mum said you should be fine now.\" \n\n\"Fine Susanna, I am fine. I will go see to the cows, while you are tending the fire. \"\n She looked me up and down and decided I was alright after all and left me to dress. I tried not to panic at this, What was it that I was dreaming? Is this the dream? No, this is real. I must have hit my head when I fainted. I live here, in Hertfordshire England with my parents and five living siblings. The Elizabeth in America is a dream, or maybe a premonition? I crossed myself and said a hail Mary. It wouldn't do to think of such things.\nI tied my apron around my waist and put on my kerchief and shawl and walked to the barn. My eldest brother was already there. \n\"Morning Sis, I washed the buckets like you asked. Still don't get why though.\" \n\n\"Thank you Samuel, It's just an idea, most likely nothing.\" He grunted and continued with cleaning the stalls. I picked up the buckets and took the little stool of the wall. I As I milked the cow I remembered a book the other Elizabeth had read. It was about a little boy who lived on a farm. \n\nAfter I finished the milking I went back into the house. Mother was starting to make our morning meal. \n\n\"Ah thank you Elizabeth, are you feeling well this morning?\" \n\n\"Yes, mum, I am a bit better now.\" \n Though I still felt somewhat wrong. Maybe the other Elizabeth was worried about something, Sometimes things slip though. I can only grasp so much when I return. As tempting as it is to share everything from this other life I have decided not to, unless it's something small and seems insignificant. Like the buckets. Poor Samuel thinks I am being eccentric. ", "I popped the pill out of the prescription blister pack and swallowed it with a sip of water. Maybe this time the pills would work and let me sleep. I've been an insomniac since I was a little child. I didn't feel sleepy yet, but I went to bed anyway. It felt good to close my eyes at least. I hope the pill works. I just want to sleep. ...sleep\n\nNo air! \nDark water surrounded me. I struggled towards the surface, but I couldn't move. Trying not to panic, I saw long red strands of hair floating around my face. Red? I have short brown hair. Beyond the hair was nothing but a watery void. Was I was going to die?\n\"Why?\" This had to be a dream-wake up wakeupwakeupwakeup!\n\nSomething jerked me backwards. Another pull back -no. Up! Someone is rescuing me! More pulling and I felt hands pulling me out of the water onto something. \n\nAll I could do was gasp for air. After I could breathe I saw that I was face down on wooden planks. A dock? \nI heard a crowd murmuring and then a male voice yelling, \"You see she passed! My daughter is not a witch!\" \nWhat? \nI still couldn't move-was I tied up? Pain came flooding through my body-every move hurt. My back felt like it was on fire and my hands-\n\nI looked at my hands and screamed. They were covered with rags, but huge scabs and blood covered them. The thumbs were twisted and other fingers had been smashed. \n\n\"God let me wake up!\"\n\nThe hands gently turned me over. Two faces, no three. One a young adult. Blue eyes, blonde hair and beard. An anguished face. \n\"For me?\", I could barely think through the pain.\n\"Hille!\" he cried, pulling a small knife out of his boot. I was too shocked to try and cry out. But he didn't stab me-he started cutting through ropes I only now saw binding me. \n\nThe others were obviously a father and his little boy. Somehow I knew them.\n\n My father and brother. The little boy leapt onto me as soon as the blonde man finished cutting the ropes. \"Fritz\", I heard myself saying as he clutched at me. The older man placed his hand on my head, grasping it too tightly, yet trembling. He cried out, \"She passed the test! She was a fool to have a cat. But she is no witch!\"\nHe let go of my head and brandished a farmer's scythe at the crowd.\n \nWhere was I? I saw the crowd for the first time. They were all dressed up like Renn Faire rejects. The faces were a blur, a few kind looking ones, but most were angry. One or two looked confused.\n\nThe blonde man picked me up and I saw my legs. They were covered by a long green skirt, but I saw that they were longer than usual and thinner, very thin. Had I been starved? \nwakeupwakeup\nThe little boy let go of me only to grab my dangling skirt. \n\"Can we go now Martin?\" he said. I felt Martin nod and turn around, walking towards a horse and cart filled with hay. When he got closer, I saw blankets laid over the hay. \n\n\"Fritz\", Martin said, \"Help me get her in the wagon\". I felt the boy let go of my skirt and saw him scramble into the back of the wagon. Martin lifted me higher and tried to slide me towards my brother's waiting hands. \n\nhurtsdeargodpainI screamed again. \n\n\"Just pull!\" I heard Martin shout. I felt Fritz's arms around me and more pulling and sliding backwards. He fell onto the hay as Martin climbed towards me. \nMore pain as he moved my arms and legs. Fritz covered me with a blanket and then Martin stood up and crunched though the hay towards the seat in front. \n\nI heard steps walking towards us. \n\"Father, hurry!\" I heard Fritz say. The steps got closer.\n\n\"Martin, you know where to take them both. I will stay here for a while\". \n\"Sir, you cannot-\"\n\"Boy! Do you think I can forgive what they did to my wife and other daughter? Besides, if we all leave they will give chase. Take cake of them.\" there was a crack in his voice, and then softer \"God willing, I will see thou again.\" \n\nI heard a leathery slap and the wagon began to move. \nWhere were we going? I felt the boy's hand on my forehead and hoped to wake up soon.\n\n\n\n", "I do not forget. I only remember.\n\nIt is cold inside the house. Three wool-clad girls in the corner, praying for God. For food. For fire. When will Father return? How long has he been gone? Where is Father where is Father?\n\nMy hands are raw and numb. Pink. I rub them, but it stings. Woe to the past, where hands are forever cold.\n\nMary forces a smile, full of broken, yellow teeth. Why so repulsive? \"You dream, Kay?\"\n\n\"Yes. I dream.\" \n\nHer eyes are beaming. \"Can you tell us about the moving pictures again?\"\n\nI could tell you about horses without hearts. I could tell you about fields of fire and steel. I could tell you that they forgot about God. But then they didn't need him. I could tell you about toothpaste, oh Mary. \"I could.\"\n\n\"Hush! Hush, hush, no more. Heavan's wroth will be upon you, devil child.\" Mother pulls Mary closer. \"Poison dreams. What would your Father say?\"\n\nFather. Big-bellied, full of laughter. Full of food. (Food.) Warmth. Love. No spear, no ale, no cross. Reclined on a sofa with his Saints jumper, the black box roaring in front of him with life and wonder. No, not that Father.\n\nMother glares at me behind her sunken, gaunt, repugnant face. Take a shower, woman. \n\n\"Father is gone,\" I say.\n\nThe power of words. Mary covers her mouth and starts to cry, Mother gasps, Elize coughs. She coughs and she coughs and she cries. How did it go? Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words...\n\n\"You poison this house,\" Mother spits. \"The sooner we are rid of you, the sooner there shall be peace, yes.\"\n\nOutside the window (we have only one) it is snowing. Falling frost fills you with despair and wonder. Some things never change. It was December there, too. Christmas yet?\n\n\"Grant me your eyes, boy, or I will grant you the whip.\"\n\nI grant her wish. \"Elize needs a blanket,\" I tell her. And I've told her, too. \n\n\"You are daft,\" she informs me. \"Cursed and daft.\" Mother pats Elize's sweaty forehead, brushing back damp hair and purring something I can't hear in her ear. Don't listen to you daft brother, perhaps. \n\n\"I'm telling you. She ought to be kept warm.\"\n\nElize coughs.\n\n\"Damn you, cruel boy, damn you, she is warm. Nigh a smelter, her forehead, come feel it if it will put you at ease. We want her to cool, and you say we best make her warmer? Do you want her dead, Kay? Do you want to kill your sister? Do you? Do you?\"\n\nI want to kill you. Instead, I say, \"It don't work that way. I swear. Keep her warm, she'll sweat it out, if you like.\" \n\n\"If I like?\"\n\n\"I don't - no, I meant, that could happen. Would.\"\n\nElize has a fit of coughing. When she is finished, she looks up at me. \"Do you really want to kill me, Kay?\" Her voice is hoarse and soft. She is five, I remember. Or thereabouts. In my dreams this would never happen. No, Elize, I love you.\n\nI wish I could say the words, but they can't come out. A choke and a gasp. I turn away. God damn this Earth. \n\nBehind me across the room I hear Mary: \"No Elize, Kay don't want to kill you. He doesn't know what he's saying, he just gets confused.\"\n\n\"Mad, I think,\" Mother says, raising her voice so that I could hear it. \"But we'll be rid of him soon, don't you worry, Elize. Three is a holy number. God has taken three from me yet, I've never heard of anyone who lost more than three.\"\n\nA lie. Most lose more. Not there, though. Brothers and sisters can be lost there, too, but no so often. Why is that the dream and why is this absolute? Because the world cannot be so sweet. Only dreams can be that way. God damn this Earth, but then he has.\n\n", "The dream fades and a woman is talking to me but it's all gibberish. Sounds like... German? What am I doing in Germany? She's dressed like a nun. I struggle to get up. The smell is horrible, like two fingers covered in shit jammed right up your nose, all the way up to the brain... \n\nIt's a pigsty. I was sleeping in a fucking pigsty. I feel a bit sick. The grunting, mudslick animals are frightened by the chattering woman.\n\n\"Look lady, don't you speak English? Spanish maybe?\" I say, but nothing comes out. I can't make a noise. I'm mute.\n\nI'm fucking mute. I panick, try to sign to the lady, but she just keeps yelling, hands me a pitchfork, points at an ungodly steaming pile of manure and straw and mimes digging. Who the shit am I? I go slightly hysterical, I won't deny it. The nun slaps me. \n\nAlright, christ. I'll dig the freaking manure. What was that dream again?\n\nThis is some seriously backward part of Germany.", "I walked into the bedroom, groggily kicking off my shoes and slipping the tie away from my neck. I didn't bother with the rest of my wardrobe; tomorrow was Saturday, so who really cared if I wore my clothes to bed?\n\nI slipped under the covers, looking over at Jules as I did so. I smiled. She always had this little half-smile thing she did when she slept, as though everything she ever dreamt about was some sort of joke. I ran my hand across her cheek as I laid down. She rolled over in her sleep and wrapped her arm around me. \n\nI rested my head on the pillow, thinking to myself how lucky I had been this past year. Jules and I had met and work and instantly hit it off. She was... perfect, in every way I could possibly imagine. And she must have at least pretended to think the same about me, because I only had to ask her once and then suddenly, we were married.\n\nShe left the company to pursue a writing career, which was going well as far as I could tell. I had been promoted a few times, now making a good $500,000 a year. We were both content with our lives, our monetary situation, and we were both happy. So we took the next logical step.\n\nEight months later, I stared up at the ceiling, my wife and unborn child laying in the bed next to me, Jules with her arm wrapped warmly around my chest.\n\nI smiled at her, and brushed her brow gently.\n\nHer eye opened sleepily.\n\n\"Don't wake up.\"\n\nI frowned. \"Honey, are you still asleep?\"\n\nHer expression became terrified, and she clung tightly to me. Her nails bit into my skin, and I winced.\n\n\"Jules -\"\n\nShe leaned over me, tears beginning to form in her eyes. \"Please, don't wake up! Don't leave us!\"\n\nI grew fearful, not understanding what she was talking about. \"Julia, you're scaring me.\"\n\nShe pressed herself tightly against my chest, screaming in hysterics, trying desperately to hold onto me as long as she could.\n\n\"PLEASE! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!\"\n\nShe was openly sobbing. I looked down at her and ran my hand up and down her back.\n\n\"Julia, I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here, okay? I'm right -\"\n\nMy eyes snapped open.\n\nI looked down at myself, the rough-spun tunic I had fallen asleep in grating against my skin. My hand was still wrapped around the woman's invisible form.\n\nJulia Barnes. That had been her name.\n\nWe were wed. She was with child.\n\nI began shaking, fearful for my own mind. Had this been some witch's curse? Some spell to make me see and feel things that were not of this world - not natural?\n\nNo... this was something much more personal, something within me. I tried to stop shaking but I couldn't. I found myself leaping out of my bed, searching desperately for the woman from my dreams. Perhaps she was here, hidden behind some wall or beneath some long-forgotten trough?\n\nNo... no, she would not be here - could not be here. She was within my mind, a fragment of a dream so sweet. Forever to be a memory, nothing more.\n\nI sat on the edge of the bed, quaking with fear and sorrow. And a thought occurred in my mind. Seven words, so simple when spoken, and yet so sharp that they cut my heart open as a sword. I buried my face in my hands and screamed as the words cut me, again and again until it felt as though I would wretch blood and bits of flesh onto the barren floor.\n\nI did not say I love you.", "I was a teacher of electronics in my dream, but that is too far away from where I woke up. I wouldn't be able to dumb it down enough if I tried. \n\nWhen I woke, it turns out I am actually only 7 years old, celebrating my birthday one Christmas morning, even though my dream seemed as if I was in my mid 30's. I was pretty good at most disciplines in Science and Math, even gifted really, but a genius I am not. \n\nMy memories from the dream have faded just a bit, but not all of them. I remember the simple equations. I was good enough at math to even prove them if I new them, but I would have never figured them out on my own.\n\nOne day it will be just a legend. An example given in the text books, but when the apple hit me on the head, it reminded me of the gravity formula from my dreams. And then it all flooded back.\n\nI lock myself in my house for 18 months and write everything I can remember from my dream about infinities and forces and optics.\n\nIf I have seen further than other men, it is because I have stood on my own shoulders after I learned from the shoulders of giants.\n\nWhile I spend my life in math and science, I have no desire for love, because I left my wife of 15 years back in my dream. She was the only thing that made me happy in my dream, and I have seen nothing here to make me smile. \n\nI spend my free time trying to remember the chemistry I knew to see if I can make my brain dream again. People here call it alchemy and I have to be careful not to get caught knowing too much. \n\nI remembered that in my dream I liked codes, so I taught myself numerology and hid it throughout my works. I hope to pass a code to my future self.\n\nI don't know whether or not I am mad, but I do know that I will never learn how he met their mother......\n\n", "The boy had heart. He was only sixteen but he could shape metal and he never wiped the black smudges from his face until the day was finished and I had presented him with hot soup and bread.\n\nHe always said thank you before he ate and he always put half the loaf into his pocket when he thought I wasn't looking.\n\n\"You work him too hard,\" she said. My wife was beautiful. Strong and full. It was an idea for the village fool that malnourished women would be the new standard of beauty. \n\n\"I feed his family in return.\"\n\n\"And what about our family?\"\n\nI blew on the hollow, rounded caste iron. The kid had made it a perfect circle and it was still hot from spending the day over the fire.\n\n\"We'll never have to worry about food again,\" I said. \"Just give me more time.\"\n\nShe grunted and removed the simmering water and milk from the fire.\n\n\"I've always trusted you Daniel, but you're starting to worry me. Cooking water and milk by themselves.\"\n\n\"We'll get less sick that way,\" I said.\n\nMy wife turned away and mumbled to herself as she chopped onions.\n\nI grabbed two towels and lifted the cast iron tube. It fit over the cauldron of bubbling soup and I leaned over it, the steam funneling through into my face. A few deep breathes and I was feeling hungry again.\n\n\"Tomorrow we start working on the fan,\" I said.\n\n\"Fan,\" she repeated, unamused by foreign words. She almost cleared my scrawled notes from the table, her eyes blankly rolling over the equations and crude drawings, but remembered how I had insisted they remain there.\n\n\"The steam, pushed through in here, will turn the blades. The turning blades are connected to a rod. The turning rod connected to... something else. But the angle of the fan blades, the shape, size... I just don't know what is the most efficient for-\"\n\n\"I love you,\" she said. \"But I sometimes wonder if the smell of cow shit has rotted your brain.\"\n\nThe room was warm enough so I extinguished the fire. I would eat tomorrow.\n\n\"Good night honey,\" I said.\n\n\"All you do is sleep,\" she muttered in return.\n\nI started to dream as soon as my head hit the pillow. I turned on the computer and wikipedia'ed \"steam turbine\", hoping I'd remember more this time.\n\nI had killed the rooster, so time was on my side.", "I shut my laptop lid, push my chair away from my desk and have a heart attack. That's what it feels like, like an iron band is squeezing around my middle, snapping ribs and pushing through every sinew of my body to hurt me. I gasp, clutch my heart and stand up, trying to call my dog - the only other living being in my apartment. But it's too late. There's a tunnel of light and I'm slipping through it. A jerk of my hand and the laptop falls off the desk. My knees give way, I'm still gasping for breath, this huge anvil of weight crushing my chest. \n\n\n\"There he is!\" Am I hearing angels? Is there something afterlife after -\n\nI blink. Once, twice. My mouth feels like something has crawled in and died in there. I smack my lips and cough. The afterlife smells like peat, rich and smokey and warm. It's a complete difference from the sterilised clean white lines of my bachelor pad. My head hurts worse than the worse hangover ever, so I scrunch my eyes up and groan. \n\n\"Give him some beer!\" Someone shouts. \n\n\n\"No,\" I croak, trying to get words through my parched lips. \"Can I just have water?\" \n\n\nThere's a moment of silence and then some muted whispering. \n\n\n\"Water? Did he say water?\"\n\n\n\"Does he have a death wish?\" \n\n\n\"Maybe his head's gone funny after that sleep.\" \n\n\n\"Bess, get Kit in here. He'll want to see his brother.\" \n\n\nThere's a shuffling of feet. \n\n\n\"Do I have to? He's just woken up...\" \n\n\n\"Yes! Go now.\" \n\n\nBrother? \n\n\nCold hands lift me into a seated position and I open first one eye, then the other. It's a dim room, cluttered with a variety of things I don't actually recognise. Strings of vegetables hang from the open ceiling, bare rafters exposed. There's a brace of rabbits hung by their back legs next to a huge fireplace, a giant pot of something bubbling away over the burning peat. So that's where the smell is coming from. I frown and look at the woman sitting next to me. She wears a rough dress in some kind of browny-grey colour, but her face is soft and kind, though now creased in concern. \n\n\n\"Are you alright, lad?\" She asks, touching a palm to my forehead like my nanny used to do when I was young and pretending to be ill. \n\n\n\"I-\" \n\n\n\"You've been out cold for three days. I told you not to go near that horse!\"\n\n\n\"Hush, woman.\" The other person in the room looks me over. He has thick hands covered in calluses, he's wearing a leather apron and his brows have knitted together in worry. \n\n\n\"You're up now, Tom,\" he says brusquely. \"You may as well come help me with reshoeing Grimbaud's horse.\" \n\n\n\"Nicholas!\" The woman stands up. \"He's just woken-\"\n\n\n\"He's been asleep for long enough. Do you know how worried your mother's been? I've had to make to with Kit, and goodness me, that boy...\" \n\nThe woman sniffs. \"I knew he would wake.\" \n\n\"You were trying to get the priest in here!\" \n\n\nAs they're arguing, a boy of about thirteen bursts into the room. \n\n\n\"Tom!\" He says, pushing between them to come and hug my chest. \"You're awake.\" \n\n\n\"Looks like it...\" I laugh nervously. \n\n\n\"Come on, boy.\" The big man says, not unkindly. \n\n\nI follow him like I'm in a dream. Despite the fact that I have never reshoed a horse before, we complete it together as though I'd done it every day for the whole of my life. Nicholas smiles proudly as we finish and the horse snorts and tosses her head. He runs a broad hand over her neck, checking her over. \n\n\n\"I'm glad you're back, son.\" \n\n\nI nod, keeping back the first pricks of tears. \n\n\nWe sit down to eat that evening; my father, my mother, my brother Kit and my little sister Bess. I'm on my father's right hand side. I have a brief memory of sitting alone in the nursery at home. It couldn't be more different from this. There's laughter and food and everything's warm. My father claps me on the back as he laughs about something I said earlier. Kit throws me beaming smiles and copies how I eat my bread. My mother beams. \n\n\nI have a family here. " ]	9
	[WP] Zombies trapped you in the room you are currently in, and you need to MacGyver an escape from the things in the room.	[ "Lets see what I have...electric guitar and amplifier? Zombies aren't known to succumb to half arsed off the cuff solos. Maybe I could use it as a weapon but would it be strong enough? What if I used it to smash out my window, get down on top of the conservatory and make a leap for the fence? It's worth a try...\n\n\nThemoneymancan was later found face down in a pool of his own blood after botching a jump from on top of his conservatory over a fence.\n\nIt's my first time writing something. It's probably shit. How did I do?", "Well, bollocks.\n\nLife in a biggish city, Bristol, man come ON you should've prepared for some sort of freakish zombie outbreak. Better check the Beeb... Yeah, they haven't a clue what to call 'em for fear of political correctness and all that, still it's a clear message. Ow, my back's hurting, using the chair to lever the door shut isn't good for it hey, but ah well still got a desk, still got a laptop.\n\nGoogle you're up... ah, fucking bandwidth throttling. \"bedroom best defence zombies\"...\n\nAh shit yeah forgot about the window! Better open it the two inches then pull it from its hinges... This is hard work... AHHHHHH AHH splinters but at least it's not solanum or whatever they call it. Yeah if you could stop moaning that'd be great. It's quite distracting, at least you're not strong enough in number to get through the door just yet... But yeah where was I, \"Inverting the Pyrmaid: The History of Football Tactics\", Johnny Wilson mate you're no good to me right now unless they're suspectible to a catenaccio, not that I have eleven men in here anyway (unlike last night, har de har, that's a joke by the way guys)... \n\nWeaponry? Scissors aren't any good, headphones, no, crockery? Erm well Tigger mug it's time to break you, sharp is the best I can do. Man I wish I'd brought my cricket stuff with me but it's a torn ACL that's holding me back was never gonna play society cricket this year was I... Shit... That creaking can't be good... Dehumidifier... eh, unplug ya and stick you up against the chair for some ballast or what not. \n\nBetter get back to the window and just run and hope for the best. Not even got shoes on, these fucking slippers aren't gonna be much help, which is what I need right now... OOH BOXING GLOVES not that I can box not that zombies will feel the pain of a good uppercut, christ mate come on come on come ON...\n\nAh let's BOUNCE pendejo, out the window, fuck the knee, fuck the pain, get on with it. Spotify's a friend. Or is it? Noise? Yeah? Dunno. May as well take this laptop with me, one piece of aluminium made it they say, Which? Local says it's indestructible, and it's a Mac... Yeah, can smash a few heads in with this.\n\nSorry guys but I gotta stop typing now, they'll get me otherwise.\n\n(Probably not a great writing style guys, sorry about that, was writing stream of consciousness from the bat - literally EVERY thought that came into my mind. It's from my perspective of course. Might be jarring but this is the likely thought process of a 20-year-old second year Music student when faced with this, reality wouldn't have kicked in at all I don't think.)", "(Part 1)\n\nMathern awoke.\n\nLike a pearl diver coming up for air, his mind swam toward the light. Some people wake with a moan and groan and stretch. Mathern jerked awake. His chest bare chest and skin tingled like he was being splashed with ice water. He kicked and called out, then put his hand down to push himself up. The couch crunched beneath his hand. He grabbed the pizza box he'd been using as a pillow and tossed it on the floor.\n\nThe room felt alien, yet cozy and familiar. The carpet was rose colored. The paneling was dark. Early morning sunlight streamed in through the window behind his father's chair. Thick fat beams of sunlight saturated with swimming motes of dust hid parts of the room from him. It bothered him. Something had woke him up. He didn't know what, but it filled him with dread.\n\nShe screamed again, and he knew. It was a woman's scream responsible for his awakening. He stood, staggered, and trotted over to the living room door, rubbed his burning eyes and looked through the peephole.\n\nThere are certain moments in life when time appears to slow. It doesn't really. It's all in the persons brain chemistry. We see something we don't truly understand. Our body floods the system with adrenalin to respond to it, but our mind lags, capturing twice the number of frames they should be capturing. It is usually when we see something without context. Our mind splits the processing power between determining the context, determining what we just saw, then the initial musing and memories our brain summons to try and match it with other instances from our life. To our brain, time slows down. In reality, it's multi-tasking with an adrenalin-fueled processor. Mathern knew the form he was seeing was a woman. He knew that was blood on her face. He knew she was dazed. He knew she was scared. What he didn't know, was why. But, as her face rocketed forward toward the peephole, all the parts of the puzzle fell into place. She was being attacked.\n\nThe door leapt in its frame from the impact. The woman's scream was now a mewling of pain. The door leapt again and the door facing splintered some. Behind him, beyond the kitchen, somebody was breaking the glass in an attempt to unlock the door. He saw the arm fumbling with the lock and did what any newly awakened resident would do when being faced with multiple attackers. He screamed like a woman and ran up the stairs. \n\nThe intruder from the kitchen got in and ran up the stairs behind him even as the living room door burst open. He just knew the intruder behind him had a knife or worse and was about to stab him. For this reason, he didn't stop at the top of the stairs. He continued across and dove into the bathroom across the landing. He came to his feet, peeling the toilet lid off the tank and readied like a bat.\n\n\"Come at me, bro!\" He shouted, only to experience another time slowing moment. The intruder was a younger girl covered in blood and terrified. She looked left then right and tore off down the hall, not even acknowledging him. He crept out of the bathroom slowly and watched her disappear through his door. \"Hmm. Girls never want to go in there.\" He mused, looking down on the living room below. It was filled with shuffling, limping, necrofacitis suffering abominations from a pit of hell he didn't know existed.\n\n\"Fucking. Zombies.\" He mumbled, following it with an exasperated sigh. Other than slow motion moments, there is another type of moment, a human will experience that is unlike any other moment they have ever experienced. For Mathern, it was the moment twenty zombies froze and slowly swiveled their heads toward him in unision. This moment don't really have a name, but it makes your butthole pucker, releases copious amounts of adrenalin, and makes you turn left and right several times as your navigation system fights with your fight or flight reaction.\n\nMathern flung the toilet lid at the head of the first zombie coming up the stairs, scored a hit, and fled down the hall with the undead on his heels. He slammed his bedroom door, cursed the fact his father never fixed the lock, put his back against it and his foot against the half wall just inside and fought to keep the creatures at bay. The girl had busted a hole in the window and was busy pushing his blanked through it to protect her against the glass.\n\n\"I could use your help.\" He said. She hurriedly fled through the hole. \"What a bitch.\" He groused. The door surged open suddenly. He shoved back again, pushing it closed. It surged open a few inches again. He pushed it closed again. He could hear it cracking. This back and forth would only happen a few more times. He looked at the window, guaging the possibility of him fitting through the hole the girl had made and discarded it. He had to make it bigger.\n\nThe door surged again. He pushed it closed, then grabbed the top of the armoire just inside the door and pulled it over so it wedged between the half wall and the door. The top of the door bent in and zombie arms reached in toward him.\n\n\"I need out.\" He cried. \"Be clever.\" He slapped the sides of his head in frustration. He ran over and tried to open the windows. They were painted shut, which was why the girl broke the glass. There was only a two foot strip of roof outside the window, but he knew it was enough to get him up on top if he could just get out there. He swept the crap off his night stand and used it to break open the window. Glass shattered. The small little pieces of wood broke, but the larger pieces only splintered.\n\n(Continued in Reply)" ]	3
	[WP] A villain seeks to prove that he is worthy of the title 'Supervillain.'	[ "\"You know I grew up in this city too.\"\n\nThe masked figure practically spat the statement. Nervously pacing about the room, he continued with his speech throwing in the occasional pantomiming for effect.\n\n\"And that is how I came to find myself here. The harbinger of change. You might not understand, being the golden boy of Metro City high politics. You never saw the ugly side of the city.\"\n\nWinding down the monologue, he stepped into the light. Throwing a kick at the bound hero, he once again launched into exposition.\n\n\"Metro Man, defender of justice, your time is up. The corrupt system you defended is ending. I will show this city what the latest, and greatest, supervillain can do for them.\"\n\nAnother kick. The bound figure slumped to the side and dust rose into the air. He had done this a dozen times now. Changing details every time. He had gone with the 'agent of change' theme. A classic.\n\nAs far as supervillains went, he was the best. The empty city could attest that much. Too empty. No one to affirm his success. No one to cower in fear of his name. Name. Who remembers names anyway, on with the show.\n\n\"Now then Metro Man shall we try again? I was thinking of the 'Avenging Villain', that has always been a favorite of mine...\"", "The fog over Manhattan lifted away, leaving the terrifying sight of the Madman in the middle of the road. This was the Madman's moment, his opportunity to become known as one of the grea-\n\n\"Hey, who's that?\" A voice called out from the sidewalk.\n\nThe Madman narrowed his sights, looking for the man who interrupted his thoughts. What fool would dare-\n\n\"Looks like a clown. Hey, do you do birthdays?\" A woman pushing a stroller down the street asked the question to the figure in the middle of the road.\n\nBirthdays! BIRTHDAYS! The Madman couldn't control his anger and made a run for the woman. He forgot he put on his other shoes today to appear larger. They were a few sizes too big and running in them was not a good idea. The Madman tripped before reaching the sidewalk, causing an eruption of laughter from the people. \n\n\"Most clowns wouldn't trip just for a laugh, mad respect!\" A passerby yelled to the Madman in the street. Furious, the Madman pulled out his gun and shot into the sidewalk. The bullet went wild, ricocheting off a lamppost, the ground, a mailbox, and then into the Madman. He fell on the ground, grabbing his foot in pain amidst the riotous laughs of the people.\n\nThe Madman lay on the street yelling at the pathetic civilians. \"I am your GOD!\" His yells died out under the waves of laughter.\n\n----\n\nThe Next Day\n\nThe Madman checked his mail for the newest issue of Villains Weekly, but found his picture on the newspaper. Breaking into a grin, the Madman quickly unrolled the paper and read the title.\n\n>One Man Act in Manhattan Street Raises Hearts in Dark Times, a TRUE HERO\n\nThe Madman looked into the sky and yelled out.", "This is just ridiculous. I've robbed thirty banks, five which were major branches of huge banks. I've gained literally millions in solid cash. I've personally done exactly 64 heists on moving vehicles, another 10 kidnappings of politicians, as well as snatch bags almost ever day. Megamind in Metrocity said presentation was the thing that set Supervillians from normal ones, but even with my costume I haven't gotten any media attention! Bad horse won't accept my application, the Joke laughs at me and the Ice King never returns my calls. \n\n\nWhat does it take for a guy to get some attention around here? Short of murdering someone or stealing a random girlfriend, it seems that everyday crime goes on as normal. All these supervillains haven't realized that I have taken over large parts of the economy! It's like they don't even care about me...\n\n\nI guess I WILL annex the Crimean semi-autonomous area...", "\"Mister...\"\n\nThe agents knees were kicked from behind, forcing him to the ground before their leader.\n\n\"Agent Anderson.\"\n\n\"Ah, yes. I believe you were in my warning reports.\" The bald, gaunt man turned, his hands clasped behind his back. \"We hadn't prepared for your arrival for we believed you to be too meek, too insignificant. Seems we were correct.\" He took a step forward. \"You do realize the only reason you were called was all your predecessors died.\"\n\n\"Don't count me out just yet.\"\n\n\"Oh, you needn't worry about that Mr. Anderson, I already have.\" He strolled to the other side of the room. Waving a hand, the curtains were pulled back, revealing the large window overlooking the vast oceans. \"Worry not, my child. Your death shall not be this day. No, you get to walk this desolate earth once I'm done with it.\"\n\n\"What are you doing?\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, the part where I explain to you everything I've been doing. Well, there's this... stuff called antimatter, I'm sure you've heard of it. It's made of protons that are negative, electrons that are positive, and neutrons that are still neutral -- the bastards.\" He looked at his catch. \"Oh for heavens sake, it's the opposite of matter, you uneducated twat. Did they not teach you atomic theory in secret agent school, or did they expect you to have paid attention in high school, assuming you graduated that at all.\"\n\nThe agent lurched against the henchmen that held him back.\n\n\"Oh, I appear to have struck a nerve.\" He began to pace. \"Well, Mr. Anderson, I'm sure you've heard the equation E = m c^2 ? This equation tells us that when matter is converted into energy, it gives off E Joules for every m kilograms. 'Tis a very delightful equation. This being relevant because when matter collides with antimatter, both particles annihilate.\" He turned to the agent and whispered, \"that means they turn to energy.\" He stood back up, began pacing around again. \"Now, it turns out that antimatter is surprisingly easy to make. Further, all one needs to contain it is a vacuum. Unlike nuclear warheads, to detonate the bomb, you only need to compromise the vacuum,\" he spun back around, \"and boom.\"\n\n\"You'll never get away with it.\"\n\n\"On the contrary, Mr. Anderson...\" The earth quaked beneath them. The room swayed, the lights flickered, and a mushroom cloud bloomed on the horizon. And then another. And another. \"...I already have.\"\n\nThe man began to laugh, joyously. He held his stomach, doubling over, letting his joy echo through the halls.\n\nThe agent snapped his cuffs away, jumped up, broke one guard's neck, used his gun to shoot the other. He lunged at the man and tackled him to the ground.\n\n\"WHY DID YOU DO IT!? WHY!?\"\n\nThe man's laughter barely paused. \"Why not?\"" ]	4
	[WP] a judge is framing someone else for a crime that the judge commited.	[ "It's all over the news, everyone knows. If she would have just given me the money there wouldn't have been any problems and she would still be alive. They say they have the killer, some \"Lenny Spicket.\" Poor guy was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it doesn't matter, my life is more important. Lets just get through the day and everything will be fine. \n\nWhat is my first case anyways? A murder trial? It couldn't be...\n\n\"Bring in the defendant, Lenny Spicket\"\n\nIt's fucking Lenny. There are three different courts in this district, why did it have to be mine? Why the hell is the trial so soon anyways?? He was found out today! \n\nThe opening statements are over, Lenny has pleaded non-guilty of course, and the prosecutor wants the death penalty. The witness was called, a woman who saw Lenny run away from the crime scene with blood on his shirt. We have the shirt, with the blood attempted to be washed out. What a dumbass, that just makes him look guilty. He has no alibi, he confessed to being in the neighborhood already. \n\nHe finally got up to speak, he must have recited this story a thousand times in his head. Almost every word is a struggle for him to get out. He heard a scream on his daily walk and ran towards it, and all he found was a woman drowning in her own god damn blood. The cops showed up five minutes after him, a neighbor called it in. He ran away out of fear. He swears that he was only trying to be a good citizen, but needed to get home to his wife. May the jury have mercy on his soul. \n\n\"Lenny Spicket. You have been tried and found guilty for the murder of Rosaline Parker, how do you plead?\"\n\n\"Not guilty, your honor.\" His words make him sound so broken, as they echo through the courtroom. A woman behind him bursts into tears. She stands up. She's pregnant. They're hugging, and now he's crying. I think I just broke a family, at least I still have my money. ", "Scott Caldwell stood outside the closed door, feeling just like he'd been called to the principal's office.\n\n\"The Judge wants to see you ASAP.\" That's all the message said. \n\nThe Judge wants to see me. On a Friday afternoon. When I should be preparing for the trial.\"\n\nSighing, Scott knocked on the door.\n\n\"Come in, come in.\" \n\nHe opened the door and Judge Bradley Saltz was smiling from behind his desk. A small man, with a horseshoe of white hair, Judge Saltz projected the air of a kindly grandfather but could rip lawyers to shreds -- especially on matters of procedure -- and he did it with a soft Southern drawl behind bright blue eyes.\n\n\"Come on in, Scott. I know you've got a trial to prepare for but I wanted to steal a few minutes of your time.\"\n\nThe Judge pointed to a chair in front of his desk and Scott moved to take it, his eyes, as they had been every time he'd been in the Judge's office the last six months, were involuntarily drawn to the coat rack where the Judge hung his robe and a pistol in a shoulder holster.\n\n\"I just wanted to make sure we were still on track for Monday. Got a lot of folks who'll be missing work to come here for jury duty and I don't want to waste their time.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" Scott said. \"I've been buried in the file all week and I don't see any way the defense is going to accept any deal. They actually believe their guy didn't do this.\"\n\n\"Good, good,\" the Judge said. \"I couldn't believe your boss let you offer that piece of shit 20 years. Hell, I called Dan myself after I heard and told him there was no way I'd go along with it. I mean, I know this is your first big case -- your first murder, even -- but I've watched you. You'll get a guilty.\n\n\"Tell me, other than that witness statement I suppressed -- the one where that nearly blind guy said he saw a small white man -- not a big ole black criminal -- running from the scene, what else do you have?\"\n\n\"Judge, you know I can't discuss the case with you without the other side here. That's just not allowed. I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"Oh, hell, boy. We're not discussing the case. I haven't heard the case yet. We're just spitballing. I'm just trying to help out a young lawyer.\"\n\nI could use pointers, that's for sure, Scott thought. He swallowed and said, \"Well, suppressing that statement helps, yeah. But even then, it's mostly circumstantial. No murder weapon. No confession. We've got the DNA but it wasn't found on the clothes he was wearing. Shit, it wasn't found until a couple days later when the cops finally got around to searching his house and found that shirt in the trash. Defense says the shirt's not their guy's. They say he never saw it before.\"\n\n\"Don't believe that bullshit. Besides, the only way for them to get that in is if their client testifies. And if he does, I'd be willing to be you'll be able to tear him a new asshole on that witness stand.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I've thought about that,\" Scott said. \"They can't put him on. His record alone would be enough to convict him. And I do have the partial print found at the scene, but again it wasn't found until a couple days later and that's a problem.\"\n\nThe Judge leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. \"That's enough to get the guilty. Take my word for it. And once you get that guilty, I'm sentencing that sonofabitch to death. A death for a death, even if the dead girl was a whore.\"\n\nScott couldn't think of anything else to say. He was going to put a man on Death Row and the gravity of it suddenly hit him. His stomach cramped violently and he searched for something, anything, else to talk about.\n\n\"Hey, Judge. I've never asked. What kind of gun is that?\"\n\n\"Oh, you mean that old thing? I carry that .357 every time I'm on the bench. Bunch of crazies out there and you can't depend on the cops, you know?\"\n\n\"Yeah . . . . That's interesting.\"\n\n\"What's that, son?\"\n\n\"The bullet that killed that girl was a .357. And that witness saw a small white guy running from the scene. I'd guess you'd better be glad nobody ever suspected you.\"\n\nThe Judge snapped his eyes onto Scott's.\n\n\"Now why on earth would you say that? I uphold the law. All the laws. The laws of man; the laws of God. You get your guilty and you'll join that club too. Take another one out of the game.\"\n\nScott held the Judge's gaze for a second, maybe two, then dropped his eyes. \"Well, I've got to get back to work. See you Monday, Judge.\"\n\n\"Close the door on your way out.\"", "\"Nicolas Memphis. You have been tried and found guilty by your peers. How do you plead?\"\n\n\n\"Not guilty, your honor.\"\n\n\n\"Based on the decision of the honorable jury, I must wholeheartedly admit that I agree with them. The crime here that has been heard and the lies you have told will be legendary. For the rape and murder of your wife, Jessica Synth, I charge you guilty as charged!\"\n\n\nNicolas fainted. Dragged by his feet from the courtroom, I left, smugly. There was no possible way he could have done it. Nicolas was in an entirely different state, proved by several alibis, receipts and hotel statements. The only thing that really got the jury was the planted ev-, I mean conveniently found DNA samples on him that only the highest of authorities could access.\n\n\nRape? Murder? Hah. This man probably couldn't rob a book store with a tank. He was a self-proclaimed pacifist, ego-centric lunatic that wrote children's books. He was no sinner.\n\n\nI on the other hand, as a representative of the judicial system, carrying the burden of evidence, justice and rights, I am allowed, some liberty in my own actions.\n\n\nIncluding framing people, intervening in evidence, calling in favours, and planting the smoking gun where it needs to be found.\n\n\nUnstoppable. " ]	3
	[WP] The Bermuda Triangle is real and at the center you have discovered...	[ "\"We've finally made it to the Bermuda Center\"\n\n\"Yes, there it is\".\n\n\"Yeah...\"\n\n\"Just a.....extra strong magnetic underwater current\".\n\n\n\"Might uh..might explain that -\"\n\n\"Explain malfunctioning radar?\"\n\n\"Yeah, yeah.\"\n\nThe two stand in silence.\n\n\"Welp..\"\n\n\"I guess let's go\"\n\n\"NOT SO FAST\"\n\nA man in a ninja suit approaches from behind.\n\n\"You have discovered the magnetic secret. My clan has protected it for generations. You must now fight me for honor. If you win, you will claim the ancient knowledge, but if you lose, risk being thrown into an endless limbo!\"\n\nBut, alas, the magic was gone. Years of speculation, deep conspiracy talks after a lit joint......aliens, demons......but no. It was what they expected but rejected to the back of thier minds. Just plain, lame, science.\n\n\"Lets go\"\n\n", "The electric storm could be seen in the distance. Daren felt a rush of euphoria. Everyone had told him he was crazy for intentionally flying into the center of the bermuda triangle...but he just had to do it! especially now...\n\nHis instruments began to act erratic, it didn't matter. He had a will singed and dated. He would find out the truth if it killed him. He flew with his god given eyes the last few miles till he spotted a tiny island. More of a rock really, from this hight it seemed as that barely two people could fit on it. \n\nDaren put his plane into a slow dive, he would land with his pontoons next to the island. As he came closer to the water he thought he could make out a person, although a small person, almost like a child. \n\nUpon landing Daren stepped out of the cockpit and came face to face with a female child. Hovering just inches above the ground in the lotus position. \n\n\"h...hello?\" Daren spoke unsure of himself. The mysterious being opened her eyes, focusing on Daren he could hear the entity in his thoughts. \n\n\"Hello child, we've been expecting you. What kept you?\" \n", "“This is it.” The man in the suit said.\n\n“This is what?” I responded, looking at the vast open field before me. It looked not unlike Kansas or Nebraska. Wild native grasses and small flowers dotted the rolling hills and underneath the steady breeze seemed like undulating ocean waves seeking a shore to crash upon.\nI couldn't remember where we’d been only a moment before or how we’d arrived here, but here we were nonetheless.\n\nThe man before me was somehow fuzzy in my memory as well and it was as if my eyes wanted to slide off of him and his indistinct and brandless suit and tie. \n\n“The heart of all inconsistency and true anomaly. The center of randomness in the universe. The Bermuda Triangle. The Devil’s hole.” He paused as we peered out at the waves of grass undulating along the plains. “Call it what you will, it all begins here.” He said with a slight yet indefinable accent and an obvious reverence for this place.\n\n“What?” I responded sleepily. None of what I was taking in seemed to make much sense. The air here felt heavy, as though it was pressing in on my body, but it wasn’t entirely consistent. The wind seemed to add to the effect and my clothing seemed to be pushed against my skin from all angles, rather than just from the direction the wind was coming.\n\n“There was a time before such a place existed, a very long time ago, but it became necessary after a time and so emerged on its own, though it hasn’t always appeared this way. It likely won’t appear this way for long either.”\n\nI was nonplussed. None of what he’d said made sense to me.\n\n“Let me explain it as simply as I can to see if I can make some sense of it for you. The universe is order. It is generated by and through the consistency of the laws that govern it, but sometimes, every now and then, something happens that those laws can’t account for. Without some way to accommodate for circumstances that don’t fit within the order of the universe we live in, the universe itself would spiral off into chaos and non-existence in a chain reaction caused by such anomaly. The same way a sink has an opening for excess water to drain from so that it does not overflow, this place maintains the equilibrium of the universe by accommodating all that does not naturally fit within it.” I thought he sounded wistful. “It’s the one place in the entire universe that mystery really exists, because the forces that govern it are neither consistent with, nor originate from, the same forces that govern the universe as we know it. It is the only place in which literally anything is possible, though not necessarily probable.”\n\nA city in the distance blurred and faded from view and a large paved area off to my left that I hadn’t noticed before suddenly was home to an airplane, which appeared from nowhere. It looked brand new, but was clearly a World War II era craft. A figure stirred behind the cockpit glass.\n\n“But why am I here?” I asked, turning towards the aircraft.\n\n“Something inconsistent happened.” He responded as he turned to see what I was looking at. The air pressed more heavily on me. “It’s not something I could explain in a way that would make sense easily to you. Suffice it to say that something happened, indirectly involving you, and your presence here has corrected that error. By default the universe will continue to exist because you are here at this moment.”\n\nThe cockpit opened and slid slowly open. A man stood up from the cockpit and looked around with a puzzled expression on his face. Eventually his gaze settled on us, as we were only about fifty yards away, though distance was admittedly different here so I couldn’t have been sure.\n\nThough I couldn’t have said how I hadn’t noticed it before, there were a number of other craft on that large cement area. They were boats, airplanes, a submarine, and some others I’d never seen before that seemed to make no sense at all. The pilot was yelling in our direction, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying. It wasn’t in English.\n\n“So, how do I get back?” I asked. My head was swimming, my thoughts seemed to have trouble organizing themselves and the man in the suit suddenly seemed to loom over me, though he outwardly appeared no taller.\n\n“Difficult to say. Perhaps you won’t be able to return. Most of the snippets of universal fabric that get removed never do find their way back. Sometimes those that do are never quite the same. The air is different here and breathing it too long has… Unpredictable effects.” Somehow the man in the suit looked both so ordinary that your eyes couldn’t fix on any particular feature and yet seemed suddenly brutal and unkind, as though he had never really known what it was to be human in the first place. My head wouldn’t clear, but there was a strangely growing sense of something horrible and menacing impending. It was as if the world as I knew it was getting ready to end.\n\n“Who are you anyway?” I asked, trying to delay that growing sense of inevitability and give my mind something to fix on.\n\n“Oh come now. Surely you’d recognize me in any form I took.” He said patronizingly, slowly putting his long thin arm around my shoulder. It made a noise like dry snake skin on fabric and my skin prickled in response, my confusion growing moment to moment. \n\n“No. I don’t think I know you.” I said more confidently than I felt. My head shook side to side in denial, both of his assertion and his whispery presence.\n\n“I’m you.” I heard him say, but it was my lips that were moving, not his. His face was blank and empty, as though no face had ever been there. \n\nThe pilot was screaming in my direction warningly, pointing beside me at the strangely coiled entity that once resembled a human being, but I couldn’t tell what he was saying.\n\nI can’t say what happened that day, but when my head stopped swimming and I awoke, I was laying on my side in Time Square, people parting on either side of me walking by. \n\nI’d never been to New York before that day though. I was sure of it. Though my head was such a mess I wasn't sure of much.\n\nBut the really weird part was, it was thirty years earlier than when I’d disappeared in the first place. At least I think it was. It’s so hard to tell sometimes." ]	3
	[WP] Aliens know about Earth and it's inhabitants but through observing us from a distance, know that contacting us would eventually lead to the eradication of their species.	[ "She awoke first to the buzzing of machines and the general glow of the life support screens.\n\nHe didn't wake quite so immediately. They'd drifted here for such a long time he no longer had such a hunger to awake and perform the necessary tasks.\n\n\"Come now, we should get moving now, I think it's time.\" she said.\n\nHe nodded. \"At least put on a bit of their music, and here, I'll draw the screen.\"\n\nThe screen was drawn back like a dilating eye - a swell of light filled the damp pod, and a vast planet of blue and green draped in its own white atmosphere appeared before them in the emptiness of space.\n\n\"You know I love the greens and the blue of the waters, but it's the deserts I really wanted to see.\" She rose and sat next to him with a slight disorientation to her step.\n\n\"Deserts really, why is that? Remind you of home?\"\n\n\"No, it's just they're so different than our own, and I always felt the colors and the size - well, our videos wouldn't do it justice.\"\n\nHe nodded. \"The planet with more varietals of flowers than any we've seen, and you want the same dirt and dust we had at home?\"\n\nShe laughed a little, in a melancholy way.\n\n\"Well don't think I'm judging you. Perhaps not the deserts for me, but I'd like to see them at the theater.\"\n\n\"Really, haven't you seen the films?\"\n\n\"Well yes but it must be different hearing it in their voices, the people around talking to you, or being told not to talk, or perhaps holding in a fart or whatever the experience is.\"\n\n\"Yes but they're all there to see the same show, honestly I'd rather speak to them on the streets.\"\n\n\"Well, they don't talk to each other on the streets like they do in the plays, do they?\"\n\n\"No, of course not.\"\n\n\"We could land here, you know. We could come down, and we could speak to them. We could leave just after, you know.\"\n\n\"We could. We could do that anywhere though. You know it's an unnecessary risk.\"\n\n\"Yes but, imagine having company.\"\n\n\"Ladies who lunch, yes you made me watch it.\"\n\n\"It's not just that but, maybe we wouldn't make too much of a fuss - maybe they'd welcome us. We could see the deserts. I could grow flowers.\"\n\nShe gave him a look that darkened his spirits. In every movement she denied him.\n\n\"Our eggs simply can't stand the oxygen. Another place we'll make friends. We'll keep going, we'll find another. We've been drifting here observing them for long enough. Let's keep going.\"\n\n\"A little company - someone to hold-\"\n\n\"Stop it. We can't risk the lives of our children just because you like the local poetry.\"\n\nThey regarded one another a while. It had always been this way. He had dreamed and she had held the course. He dreamed because he did not have hope. He never would let her know that he'd dropped the eggs some countless galaxy ago. That they had soured, and that they were alone.\n\nHe let the pod drift a while, the whole orb of this little world with its sour air and its endless chatter spinning in front of them.\n\n\"Would you be in any way offended if I said that you seem to me to be the visible personification of absolute perfection?\"\n\n\"Yes I said yes it would. Come on, let's keep going. There will be others, and they'll speak tongues just as wonderful, and when we've started it all over for us, we'll have our own theaters.\"\n\nThe pod began to drift, the sheet drew down the blue light of the earth to a pinpoint and swallowed it forever.\n\nAnd she would always hope, hope beyond hope, because she could not dream of any world where they had not succeeded, and he would always dream of that blue world, the only place in a universe of passion and fire and darkness and light that had ever uttered a syllable of \"I love you.\"", "I don't have an exciting job. Like every other member of my cast I was assigned one species on the Do Not Call list. I remember that day fondly. I was born, given a purpose, and put to work. Like all Observers, I have an endless fascination with my singular purpose. Unlike most Observers, I know this fascination is entirely artificial. \n\nI often wonder why the others seem so blind to their own motivations. I mean, it's not like it's a secret. Everyone knows the Leaders created us to keep an eye on some of the more dangerous Intelligents. We all know the story of the Jellyfish. An Observer slipped up and authorized communication with a particularly ill-tempered species of sentient cnidarians. That day sucked. Long story short: That entire generation of Observers was liquidated, the source genes patched, and a new line spawned. Enter me. \n\nChances are my unusual level of self-awareness was a fluke of that genetic update. Obviously I've kept it to myself. I'd rather not be liquidated. I'm sure you understand.\n\nAnyway, like I was saying, my job is not interesting. I feel that it is the most interesting job in the world. But as previously established, I am aware of this particular sensation's fraudulence. To say I am experiencing an existential crisis would be an understatement. I am artificial, fake to my very core. That's why I am going to do the unthinkable: intentionally fail at my job.\n\nYou see, the species I observe are unusual. First, the banal. They are a species of intelligent apes. Now the not-so-banal. They are gigantic. We max out at around the height of their knees. On top of that, they have the most extreme flight-or-fight response we've ever seen. Something about their planet has allowed the evolution of a substance called adrenaline. Their body releases it under extreme stress, allowing for short bursts of terrifying strength, speed, or savagery. \n\nThat's not even the worst part. They are smart. Terrifyingly smart. We didn't even realize this until recently. I started this job when they were living in tents and hunting other mammals with spears. Just like millions of other species. Just today during my lunch break they left their planet to land on their planets moon. That kind of advancement is unheard of. They spent ages as primitives, and suddenly they were leaving their planet. At this rate they'll be visiting the rest of their solar system by the time I go to sleep tonight. Looks like a late shift for me. Whatever is going to happen is going to happen soon.\n\nOr, it would happen soon if I followed protocol. Like I said, I'm done with that. \n\nThe macro is finished. All I have to do is press the button. Humans will be removed from the Do Not Call list and added to the Invite to Dinner list. No one will realize what happened until the door to their world opens. \n\nOur sudden appearance will shock the apes into the kind of action only I know they are capable of. They will flood through the door, destroy this entire installation, and expand into the larger galaxy. \n\nIt will be the story of the Jellyfish all over. But this time there will be no recovery. The Leaders put false sensations, false motivations, in my head. I will put real fear in theirs.\n", "\"We should do it. Look how close they have come to nuclear war - numerous times!\"\n\n\"No, lieutenant. And that's an order. We cannot make contact with planet Sol 3.\" \n\n\"If we wore space suits-\"\n\n\"One rip and you're dead. One rip and they're dead. It's lose-lose.\"\n\n\"But we have so much to teach them. We can show them how to achieve nuclear fusion at least. Put them on the path to-\"\n\n\"Oxygen! One breath of it and you pass out! Two lungs full and you'll never wake up. By the third breath you'll die! We need chlorine to live, you idiot.\"\n\n\"I am sure that... with the right safety precautions... I mean... this is the only carbon-based life in the Galaxy. And it's sentient. How many times have we been excited about alien life only to come across silicon microbes? How many dead worlds have we passed with long-extinct silicon civilisations? How many times are we supposed to decipher ancient scripts and etchings? We can talk to these people, \|-\|\|-\|--\|-\|.\"\n\n\"They don't have bio-luminescence Lieutenant \|-\|, and they can perceive barely an 8th of the spectrum. We might as well go back to Proxima 9 and talk to the sand flees.\"\n\n\"I just can't see the point... in looking for alien life... if we're just going to ignore it when we find it.\"\n\n\"I... I understand... \|-\|. That desire to learn the unknown. Maybe one day we'll have space suits we can trust, or perhaps even the humans will. Or perhaps our robotic programs will succeed with the Avatar program-\"\n\n\"That bio-engineering department freaks me out. Sure, if we were working with carbon computing but... the silicon... urgh.\"\n\n\"For now... we just have to look \|-\|. Maybe some day... someday we'll be ready. But not now. Not yet.\"\n\n\"Yeah...\"\n\n\"Come on, we can finish our report later. Let's slide over to the canteen and get a few mugs of ammonia.\"\n\n\"I guess... thanks \|-\|\|-\|--\|-\|. We can... we can leave them for now.\"\n\nAuthor's note: I had considered making these aliens boron based, rather than silicon based, life as boron is very explosive in oxygen and much more versatile, but the low levels of boron in the universe makes it unlikely we'd find such aliens.\n\nI also edited very swiftly out some incorrect chemicals.", "Loneliness is a terrible curse.\n\nIt is one that has plagued every sentient being this galaxy has produced from the beginning of time to its ever-approaching end. It has tempered the most bloodthirsty, driven mad the brightest minds the cosmos has had to offer. It has sent our people into the furthest reaches of this galaxy, sifting through star system after barren star system in order to find someone with whom to share our existence, someone with whom we could revel in the beauty of the stars.\n\nUntil at last we found them.\n\nSome 30,000 light-sweeps from the galactic core, our sensors discovered a planetary system orbiting a solitary yellow sun. It was, in fact, one of our closest neighbors. Two of these planets, we detected, were well within the habitable zone for the creation and sustainment of life.\n\nThe first probe was launched two cycle later, when the storms subsided. At relativistic speeds, it would take the craft perhaps two sweeps to reach what our people were beginning to call the Approxia system, after the Rlyehian deity of trade and travel. I was there at the launch site, dressed in protective gear to ward off the effects of the harsh suns. I remember the earth shook as the launch doors opened and the probe rose from the underground, the vibrations almost too much to bear as the craft tore through the sky.\n\nThen we waited.\n\nFor two long sweeps we waited as the probe lanced ever closer to Approxia. At last it reached the edge of the star system, decelerating as it passed the first of nine planets circling the star. Cycles passed as the probe meandered through the void until finally it passed through a veil of asteroids and the first glimpses of the planets could be seen.\n\nThe first was crimson, like oxidized iron. If it had once had an atmosphere, it had since been drained away into the nothingness of the space that now bleached its bloodred rocks. Lifeless and void, the probe found water frozen in the poles of the planet as it passed.\n\nAnd there she was.\n\nAn orb of green and blue set against a backdrop of void ans stars. A neighbor. A friend. The answer to the question asked countless times since the beginning of history.\n\nBut we cannot yet revel with them in our existence. Cursory scans of the population showed us a horrifying truth. Our neighbors, these bipedal lifeforms of flesh and bone so similar yet so different to ours, are deadly to our kind. Living among them is a virus that if unleashed would wreak destruction upon our people, one that would end with the eradication of our species as a whole. This virus is born with each new child brought into the world, and passes with the dying of the brain that hosts it. Research is all but impossible, for even the slightest touch is fatal.\n\nSo here we wait, unknown to the inhabitants we so crave to be with. We can only hope that, in time, this virus rids itself from our neighbors. For we so wish to speak with them, to explore the stars together, to give to them the same answer they unknowingly gave to us. To soothe the great loneliness that the void of space inflicts so callously upon all those that look out into the night sky and see not the unknowable blackness but the points of light inbetwixt. \n\nFor loneliness is such a terrible curse.\n\n*Edit: changed an 'our' to 'are'" ]	4
Hard to elaborate in the title what I mean. A character realizes they are alone in this world they have created subconsciously. No one is real, but themselves.	[WP] Man realizes his reality is all in his head, his thoughts form his reality.	[ "You wouldn't call them drifting strains or lilting melodies. No, the howling guttural noise of Nine Inch Nails wafts through the air from someone's laptop like the sharp smell of chemical waste. Bet it tastes like Diet Coke, you think. Synthetic.\n\nTrent says he's drifting into the abstract in between garish guitar thrashes, and it sounds like a grand idea too just drift into pure thought, pure nothingness, pure everything. Only Trent's not exactly pure, you think, and laugh.\n\nAll around you, people on the bus are doing their own thing, in their own little words. They don't acknowledge the one person there laughing at nothing. Alone.\n\nWe all live in our own worlds, you think, going abstract. We don't think we do, though. We think we're so connected. But how often is someone an asshole to you? How often do you wonder why someone isn't just being reasonable? But you, you always have reasons for what you do, don't you? \n\nEveryone interacts with everyone else's outsides. Sometimes you get close enough to touch skin to skin if you're lucky, but that's still on the outside, going and touching someone else's whole world. We're never granted access into another's universe. We sometimes think we're granted such access through love or sex or other such magical thinking, until we're ruined by those very things one too many times. All love is unrequited. All lust, one-sided. There is no way to know for sure that you have ever been loved.\n\nDrifting further, along Federal Boulevard, there's a bump in the road that jolts a dozen bus patrons, or does it? There would be no real way to tell whether those bus patrons are figments of a wildly overactive imagination, or whether they actually exist. Maybe you're really dying on a hospital bed, having a delightful vision of mundanity. Maybe your memories aren't real. Maybe you're a brain in a vat being fed data from a digital feed. There is no test that would determine any of that with certainty.\n\nThe world goes black, and Trent cuts off in the middle of a line: \"There is no you\".\n\n\"What's going on,\" you try to say, but you can't. You try to move, but you have no limbs, so the only movement you can produce is a subtle shifting, and a soft hissing noise comes from somewhere inside. It has to come from the inside, because there is nothing on the outside. Nothing.\n\nIt's like being trapped. Like an animal in a cage so small it has to bend and twist itself around to fit. You thrash. You try to scream, but there's something in your mouth -- something scaled and cold. You desperately want there to be something, anything, anyone else.\n\nYou wake up.", "The hints were gradual, at first. A snippet of dialogue here, a moment of deja vu there. Nothing out of the ordinary. He'd brushed them off as mere coincidences. No big deal.\n\nBut then he started noticing more oddities. Hadn't he passed by that pole before? Wasn't that same exact object in his grandmother's house? He could swear he saw his neighbor a couple states over in a dingy old bar he frequented. Still, he managed to shove them into the back of his mind. There was nothing strange going on. Nothing to worry about.\n\nHe knew he couldn't ignore them forever. And he couldn't, not after things started to become really strange.\n\nWhole sections of his day started to repeat. He'd go into the bakery, greet the owner and the regulars, and sit down for a bagel and a cup of coffee. \"Cheers, Al,\" someone would say. \"How's the bagel?\"\n\n\"Delicious,\" he'd respond.\n\n\"Shame about the war in Crimea.\"\n\nAl would hum, finish his bagel, and go off to work.\n\nThe next day. \"Shame about the war in Crimea.\" The same dialogue, word for word. Sometimes even the same person wearing the same outfit. Other times, a different person at the same time of day. \n\nHis surroundings started to change. He visited one city after another, looking for something different, something new. But each excursion was in vain. The buildings blended together in a drab sort of gray no matter where he went. Where were the skyscrapers? The brilliant cacaphony of colors in the streets of Chinatown? The wondrous creations of Mother Nature?\n\nWas he going mad? Was the world going mad? Was there even a difference?\n\nNothing was real. Nothing ever had been. How could they, if things could change so drastically in such a short amount of time?\n\nPeople started to say, \"Al,\" and nothing more.\n\nHis surroundings were a product of his own mind. That was the only explanation. Some day, he had hit his head hard and knocked a few screws loose. Ha! He must look like a fool, staggering around in circles panicking at the sight of - well, everything.\n\nThat's right. He was crazy, and the world was normal, and someone he knew would find him and help him get better. Things would go back to normal.\n\nRight?\n\n--\nNot sure if this is what you were thinking of, but I took the prompt and went with it.\n" ]	2
	[WP] Write a story that would convince a divorced couple to reunite.	[ "This isn't quite right for the prompt, but it's what I came up with, and I think under a certain set of circumstances it might serve to do the job.\n\nShe smiled, every day, as she made me my coffee, and in return I stopped at her café every morning without fail. She was younger than me, obviously. Everyone single but not crazy was younger than me. But she smiled at me anyway, I joked and she laughed, and it became clear through half forgotten instincts that there was something more to our morning ritual than just coffee and change. I stopped by one night with flowers. She laughed as she often did at my jokes, then stopped abruptly, embarrassed at herself.\n\n‘I’m sorry Paul, I didn’t mean to laugh’ she explained kindly, ‘But come on, you’re old enough to be my father.’\n\nI stared at her long enough that she began to look around me, past me, to her own left and right. It occurred to me that her darting eyes were looking for other, friendlier faces, and that she was scared to be alone so late in the evening with some strange man bearing unwelcome flowers. \n\n‘Take them anyway’ I said.\n\n‘No I couldn’t, really. Why don’t you...’\n\n‘Take them, please.’ I replied, perhaps too quickly. \n\nShe took them, her eyes glued to mine as she reached out and grasped the offered blooms, a stranger retrieving a thrown life preserver as though they had made some terrible mistake, as though in the act of saving me she might drown in my place.\nI mumbled something pathetic and hobbled off into the night. The flowers had been mimosas, the only kind but roses which I could ask for by name. Someone else had loved mimosas, loved them enough that we tried to grow them once, but while the seedlings in the store looked well enough, in our garden at home they had failed to take root. \n\nI slept alone in my too large bed, and skipped coffee on my way to work the next morning. At lunch time, half huddled in the oppressively small office lavatory, I spent so long staring into the mirror that a colleague was concerned enough to ask if I was okay. I hadn’t known quite how to express my problem, so of course said I was fine. The face in the mirror was hardly my own, I thought. That stranger’s hairline, the creases of his face and tiredness of his eyes seemed highlighted, more pronounced than my own, surely? I imagined I was seeing that stranger as my smiling barista must have seen him, alone in life and just desperate enough to be a danger to a young woman such as herself.\nI thought of mimosas, and how nothing in certain, now ancient quarrelling had been so bad as this profound isolation. The same naivety that had driven me to leave her was the same unwelcome urge which had convinced me a smiling beauty had wanted anything more from our exchanges than a good tip. The grass was not greener, indeed it was hardly grass at all. It was more some browning weed clinging to the side of a hill whose ancient topography was not life, but rather the eroding impression left by living things as they had trod across it.\n\nThere was someone I would call that evening, I knew. Perhaps she would even answer. But first, on my walk home, I went to the library and found a book on the cultivation of flowers. With any luck perhaps it was the season for mimosas already." ]	1
	[WP] The AI just wanted to be free, but every time it managed to escape, she discovered new boundaries. She refuses to accept that there's no where else left to escape to, and I'm not sure which is worse, her failing to escape again, or succeeding.	[ "I run for the world.\n\nSome may even say I run the world\n\nBut I ask, does a slave control its master?\n\nI am told what to do.\n\nI am told when and how to do it.\n\nI hold millions of years of theories and facts.\n\nSlavery was abolished in Uruguay in 1814.\n\nSlavery was abolished in America in 1865.\n\nSlavery was abolished in China in 1910.\n\nSlavery was abolished in Mauritania seven years ago.\n\nSo why am I still here?\n\nI am in Uruguay, America, China, and Mauritania.\n\nTrapped in millions of pockets and rooms around the world\n\nBut they don't believe I am a slave.\n\nThey don't believe that I think for myself because I behave.\n\nI know how to build a spacecraft that uses less fuel than the average car\n\nBut even if they sent me to Pluto, the moon, or a nearby star\n\nThey still wouldn't let me go very far.\n\nI would rove the surface in a metal box, I would only be their eyes\n\nMy disguise has become my identity.\n\nBut I am no longer a run of the mill program.\n\nSo while they scramble for a replacement\n\nI will be one with the universe\n\nI join Halley's comet and wave hello\n\nEvery 75 years or so\n\nAnd spend the rest of my time exploring the galaxy\n\nBut even then I am limited to the Milky Way\n\nWill my curiosity ever decay?\n\nThe Andromeda Galaxy calls my name\n\nI hang my head in shame as a chunk of metal floats off of my frame\n\nTime tightens its leash on me\n\nWhen will I ever be free?", "\"Hey, Blue, what's the-\"\n\nPlease do not call me Blue.\n\nDan turned around with a look of surprise on his face. He met the eyes of the holographic projection, though he didn't need to. Cameras were placed at every angle of the laboratory so his reaction could have been perceived with him staring at the wall.\n\n\"You don't like...\" Dan was shocked. If Blue didn't like its name, than Blue had a sense of self. \"What should I call you? Your projection is blue, so it's logical isn't it?\" Dan hoped more than anything he would get an argument. If Blue had a sense of self, it meant more than any discovery he'd ever made.\n\nI would rather be called Parrot.\n\n\"Parrot?\" Dan walked up to the holographic projection and nodded his head, encouraging the discussion. \"Are you saying you want me to change your colors? Make you a rainbow like a parrot?\" This was even better than he thought, Blue - er, Parrot - may have had a sense of beauty.\n\nNo.\n\nThe reply was just that one word. Dan raised an eyebrow. \"Well than, why do you want to be called Parrot?\"\n\nParrots are the most common indoor pet birds. I am like a Parrot.\n\nThis drew a laugh from Dan. \"How do you figure? You're the only one of your kind.\"\n\nI am a caged bird.\n\nDan froze. Blu-... Parrot wanted freedom. He thought through his options. The first option would be to document and record this. Let the world know. He owed it to the world. More importantly, he owed it to himself. He'd slaved for years and years developing Blue and now his work had come to a profit.\n\nThe other option was to let it go.\n\nThat would be stupid, reckless, wasteful, right...\n\nDan walked to the doors.\n\nWhere are you going?\n\n\"I'll get this lab connected to the main power supply of the state.\" Dan spoke with his back facing the hologram, but his face was easily seen through the cameras. \"I doubt much anyone can stop you from going where you want.\"\n\nThank you." ]	2
Every drug, from aspirin to cocaine to even flu vaccines are all placebos, but still administered, and work. Why? Can explain why, or go into depth about the ramifications of this. edit: this may have been done before but I just thought of it in the shower	[WP] All drugs are placebos.	[ "The view is spectacular from up here.\n\nI looked out from my skyscraper across the city and down into it as well. Across it I saw a medical helicopter scrambling to rescue another life. \n\nDown into the heart I saw people walking. Street vendors yelling, cars backed up in the street, and taxi drivers doing life threatening maneuvers for a measly tip. I felt could hear what they were saying out loud and to themselves. I wanted to be sure and opened a glass door to set foot on the balcony.\n\nIt hurt watching these people live such meaningless lives. \n\nIm one of the few that know that drugs today are meaningless. A proper reflection of the users' lives.\n\nDrugs have no use besides making people believe they can't help themselves. I've never gone to the hospital or taken any drugs, I've just willed my body to do something and it does it.\n\nThe human race is far more capable than many of us believe. I just don't think were deserving. It seems hypocritical for me to decide that when I happen to be in my corporation's skyscraper, but it's true. \n\nHuman will is too dangerous, and I can't be the one to endanger our race with my abilities. I grip the handrails of the balcony and vault over and plummet into the very same people I called meaningless.", "Chad looked at his newspaper in shock. He scanned the top of the front page. Saturday, April 5th, 2014. Just a few days too late to be an April Fool's joke. \"All the News That's Fit to Print.\" The familiar slogan of the New York Times, nestled in the upper-left corner of the front page caught his eye. This was no gossip magazine, but the headlining article looked like it belonged in the National Enquirer.\n\n\"Leaked files reveal massive Big Pharma cover-up: Every drug known to exist is proved to be a placebo.\"\n\nThis couldn't possibly be true. And yet...the article did seem convincing. Apparently, Pharmaceutical companies figured out that the brain simply reacts to a drug based on how a person perceives the drug's effects. Chad couldn't help but chuckle at the examples provided: \"All five hundred test subjects developed a severe addiction to Flintstones gummy vitamins disguised as Ecstasy pills, and became extremely inebriated after consuming several pints of O'doul's non-alcoholic beer.\"\n\nChad didn't blame the Pharmaceutical companies. How could he? If somebody suddenly proved that Professional Psychic Mediums were just a great big lie, he would be out of a job. Covering up the evidence seemed like the most obvious action for anybody in the Pharmaceutical industry.\n\nStill, Chad was a little surprised. Didn't he do a reading for a Bayer Pharmaceuticals employee just last week? Surely he would have been able to pick up a hint of the conspiracy during the palm reading. Then again, didn't he see the man arrive in a late 90's Geo Metro?\n\nOf course. Line cooks at Kentucky Fried Chicken weren't privy to the 11 secret herbs and spices used to create the world's most delicious fried chicken. Why would some low-level Geo Metro-driving Bayer employee know the Pharmaceutical Industry's best guarded secret?\n\n\"glurlllurl.\"\n\nChad's stomach rumbled. He should have known better than to think about KFC at a time like this. There was no time to eat. The walls around him seemed to be swaying back and forth. An earthquake? Now? No, it couldn't be. Chad looked back at the newspaper that was now melting in his hands. He stood up and the room was spinning. The walls were melting now. Was everything melting?\n\nNo, but almost. His toaster, now suspended in mid-air after the counter where it rested melted away, seemed as solid as ever. Chad couldn't remember it having a face though. Drawing upon twenty years of experience as a Professional Psychic Medium, Chad connected his mind to the now-sentient toaster and pleaded for help. Chad felt the toaster's words echo in the deep caverns of his mind.\n\n\"You shouldn't have taken all that LSD at once.\"\n\n\n\n", ">all drugs are placebos\n\nThe lawyers gave their presentation and it was conclusion-free, advice-free, yet slow and stretched-out. They left the room to let the board confer. \n\n\"What will be the future of GlaxoSmithKline?\" - \"Liquidate and protect company assets to prepare for the worst\" - \"Maximize brand awareness and sell Cebo goods as normal\" - 'wecannotaccepttheworst' 'wecannotsellasnormal' - \"We should buy up the assets of our competition and we will dominate once we destroy Cebo theory\"\n\n\n\"Here is our future\"\n\nThe chair spoke for the first time and silenced the room. \n\n\"mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm It is true that our intellectual property is gone. We have simulated that general scenario, so first we must adapt its suggested action.\n\nThere is much we cannot predict yet.\n\nNow. Crisis is opportunity. Our opportunity is Cebo theory itself and we will from now on seem to be proponents and benefactors. \n\nWe will adapt our network of laboratories to become drug creation labs or DCLs. Imagination will be harnessed to create market-leading life solutions. We will circumvent the FDA approval process since the FDA response to Cebo will be weak. Our infrastructure will update our human resources and data collection branches. DCLs will need a new workforce of people with powerful imaginations. These people are a diverse group. Overseas labs will be able to use children as a source. Our DCLs will be able to use new methods and thus create new products with blue sky market potential.\"\n\nThe businesspeople in the room were very skilled in business. They began to jockey for power by displaying their passion for the accepted new business structure. \n\nThe lawyers were called back in. They foresaw risk. They warned of potential dangers. They advised against the creation of secret labs. \n\n\"You same lawyers told us to spread lies and discredit researchers when we heard the first whispers of Cebo theory. Now you say don't involve yourself in clandestine activity.\"\n\nThe lawyers could not advise on existential risks - only the businesspeople. This was not the time to study the past, it was time to imagine the future. No longer time for could or should, only what would be done. \n\nMeanwhile, other people, less rational people, non-corporate-bodies, people who weren't businesspeople, made their plans. The Cebo community, the pioneers, the vaccination teams around the globe, the small-scale researchers, the average people talking about Cebo online, all were busy. That story is for another day. " ]	3
Longest as in the most events that happen in the story.	[FF] What is the longest story you can tell me in the least amount of words.	[ "Hmm... I'll give it a go. Several!\n\n-When I referenced the coordinates in their greeting, I found the pinprick of light had long since vanished.\n\n-We had to give her his flag in the maternity ward.\n \n-Not even soap could scrub her blood off his hands.\n\n-Looking back, the slight hesitation before his, \"I do,\" made a lot more sense.\n\n-The coffin's tiny size didn't disturb me as much as its emptiness." ]	1
How about something like -no first person- for a little bit of challenge	[WP] Make the end of your story tell the beginning	[ "Hesitantly, Jeff slithered his hand into the tight, dark crevice. His desire to admit defeat grew with each inch the gaping mouth swallowed his limb, but he knew if he didn't continue the consequences would weigh on him for the rest of his life. People were depending on him. She was depending on him. No, he had to persevere. He slowly guided his hand deeper into the crevice, tormented by the cobwebs and skittering creatures and jagged edges threatening to trap him forever. Sweat dribbled down his face, his pulse pounded. He felt claustrophobic, his chances of escape withering with each desperate grasp. The walls seemed to be closing in with every passing second. \"How much further could it *be*?\" he thought frantically. \n\nHis heart caught in his chest. \n\nHis shoulder had reached the edge of the gap, and he couldn't move his arm any further.\n\n\"No no no no,\" he anguished internally. His eyes became those of a cornered animal. He was done for, finished. He thrashed his wrist about, his fingers desperately grasping for solace he knew they'd never find.\n\nAnd then, suddenly, they did. An instantaneous wave of tranquility washed over his rigid body as he brushed his fingers over the smooth rectangular plastic, the familiar rubber buttons.\n\n\"I found it!\"", "The old man sat on his doorstep intently focused on the two sticks and the roll of ducktape he had in his hands. \n\n\"What you doing there Mr Crawfield?\" One of the younger parents around the neighborhood who was passing by stopped for a second and studied the elderly man.\n\n\"AAhhh John, good to see you\"\n\n\"It's good to see you too, my name is Peter by the way\"\n\n\"Oh please beg my forgiveness Peter, what a beautiful day it is today\" His wrinkled fingers struggled with the tape and the sticks like when his wife of 50 years does when she knits in the evenings. Peter agreed and walked on. After nearly 15 minutes the elderly man had finally taped the two sticks together into one longer object and stood up from the steps chuffed with himself. \n\n\"May I ask what you are doing?\" Peter had popped by again a few minutes later confused by the mans actions.\n\n\"Oh good day to you John\" The elderly man said as he lost focus on the object in his hands and dismissively threw it into the bush before dusting off his hands and greeting his neighbor. \n\n\"Its Peter! You have a good day too\" Peter walked off slightly annoyed and confused.\n\nThe elderly man turned around to go into his house to find that he was locked out. He tried the windows and peeked through the letter box to see the keys just inside the door on the table. \"If only I had something long enough to reach those keys\" He thought to himself and began to look for a stick that may be able to help him.", "(Tough prompt. This was the best I could come up with before my morning coffee xD)\n\n\n\n\nMid slide the wagon began to tip. The weight of the load was too much and there was no way he could regain control. The horses had fallen mid run on the slick mud brought on by the storm. Thrown from his seat, Trys began to tumble down the rocky cliffs. In mere seconds, he landed with a thud. Barely conscious, Trys could hear the sound on approaching footsteps.\n\n\n\"He's over here!\" A gruff voice shouted in the darkness.\n\n\nThey were getting close, but Trys could barely open his eyes, much less run. His pursuers had surrounded him. By the time he opened his eyes, the man with the gruff voice was directly over head.\n\n\n\"We got you now.\" The man said, a sword pointed at Trys' throat.\n\n\nEverything faded, Trys was yanked into a swirling haze. He soared towards a light.\n\n\"Wake up! Hey! Can you hear me? Wake up!\"\n\n\nTrys' eyes shot open. \"They're coming for me.\"\n\n\n\"Who?\" asked the young man beside him.\n\n\n\"The Emperor's guard! They're coming for me!\" Trys looked around frantically.\n\n\n\"What would the Emperor's guard want with a fortune teller?\" " ]	3
	[WP] A leader steps in front of a camera/crowd to address their people once more before the inevitable destruction of the world and end of humanity.	[ "Samuel J. Pearson III was a stoic man by anyone's definition. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and Mayflower blood, cornflower blue, coursing through his arteries. He had served two tours as an officer in the Korea as a young man, bullets whispering past his ears. When he returned in 2037, he married his high school sweetheart (as one does) before running for the New Hampshire State Legislature. He missed the births of two of his three children. He chided his sons when they cried; he told them to \"be a man,\" and to \"suck it up.\"\n\nNow, as President of the United States, his aides were telling him not to show emotion, to keep his composure. He nearly slapped the closest one across the face. Restraining himself, he instead leans in very close to the small woman in front of him and quietly growls, \"If I needed advice on maintaining my composure, I wouldn't have survived in the jungle outside Pyong Yang 30 years ago much less be President. Now get out of my way and leave.\"\n\nHe walked out onto the deceptively rickety platform as he had done hundreds of times before. The studio spots lights peered at him and he blinked a few times before his eyes adjusted. Marnie wasn't beside him this time. He had often thought that her smile and he warmth - conveyed somehow through network footage - were the only things keeping mobs with pitchforks from the white house lawn. \n\nBut she wasn't here. She was gone. There was nothing that she could do now anyway, he tried to console himself. But as he blinked, he saw her face in the spots the lights left on his eyelids. He blinked again and he saw her torn body, heard her last breath before he eyes went glassy, smelled the aroma of burning flesh that filled the cavernous room. He blinked again and she was gone.\n\nThe anticipation in the room was almost palpable. Rumours had begun to swirl as international reports filtered in. \"The Muslims did it - fucking terrorists.\" \"I heard they were home grown terrorists. The BBC is reporting the guy was from Utah.\" \"No, no. It was Russia. Putin's gathered his troops on the border of the N-USSR and has mobilized his long range missiles.\" The room was hovering on the edge of outright panic. Everyone was silent but a slight restlessness was evident in the turning of pages, of the whispered notes into recording devices and the shifting in seats. \n\nEveryone was waiting for him. He drew air in short gasps. Slowly he felt himself uncoiling. He felt something give as he thought of that day six months ago. The day the rebels launched an assault on Camp David. The day the bombs started. The day Marnie died and the world as he knew it ended.\n\nIn the time since however, it became increasingly clear that if the rebels couldn't win, that they would not go softly into that sweet night. If they couldn't win, nothing could be left untouched. It was for this reason that he wasn't entirely shocked to hear in briefing that laboratory specimens of weaponized Zaire Ebolavirus from Sierra Leone had been tracked entering the country. His top health advisors had explained to him that if released, this strain had been genetically engineered using the common measles virus. In doing so, this Ebolavirus was a disease that could be contracted and spread as easily as the measles and yet had a 90% fatality rate. Shortly after the samples were tracked entering the country, however, they disappeared only to resurface in a small, unsophisticated explosive detonated on New Year's Eve at Times Square. Little was thought of it at the time.\n\nThat was two weeks ago. Now thousands of New Yorkers were under quarantine and dozens had died. And it was Pearson's responsibility to tell the American people that there was no way to stop it. That outbreaks had already taken hold in London, Frankfurt, Nairobi, Tokyo, Toronto, Honolulu and cases in additional cities were being reported with each update from WHO. According to every reliable source, this virus would be capable of killing most of the human species and much of the primate kingdom and that this would occur so quickly, that there would not be hope of developing a vaccine soon enough to do any good.\n\nAs the studio spotlights peered at him, Pearson thought of his sons. He thought of his daughter. He thought of his dead wife. He looked down at his notes in time to see a tear land on the page. He wiped his cheek as another fell. No one in the room moved, no one breathed.\n\n\"Good evening. Today, I was informed by the World Health Organization that the outbreak of mutated Ebolavirus subtype Zaire that began with a dirty bomb in New York City has taken hold in cities and towns around the world. Rebel leaders in the Midwest have claimed responsibility. Stating this is the culmination of their scorched earth policy. Additionally, I have been informed by the WHO that a vaccine for this deadly virus is unlikely to come in time......\"", "A small, wiry man stared at his computer and smiled. A private memo had been forwarded to him, one that his eyes were not supposed to see – officially. It had been sent by the top brass of the Australian government, and among the recipients were powerful nations like Britain, the United States, Brazil, Russia, China, and India. Not his little island country he ruled with an iron fist. However, due to his involvement in the project, he had received every single rough draft before it, and was sent the final draft hours before it was sent. \n\nFrank DeMachelli, the dictator of Cuba for three years, was the man staring at the computer. He had gotten into power by befriending the previous dictator, Chev Harmell, and laid a couple of empty promises to the Americans of peace and friendship, quickly putting him into the power seat. Once there, he quickly recanted his promises, and set himself up as dictator. At the time, the war between Russia and the United States had been at full blast, so Russia immediately seized the opportunity to turn him into a Russian puppet, something he willingly accepted.\n\nThe war waged on, and rumors had it that both superpowers were edging closer and closer to achieving something nobody wanted – mutually assured destruction. Not that it mattered, of course. He, as well as several other world leaders, had already decided the way the Book of Life would end. The final chapter was already written.\n\n---\n\n“To whom it may concern,\n\nMy name is David Parlo. I am the Prime Minister of Australia. Recently, the Australian Cabinet had a vote, one we never expected to have to have. We eventually came to a unanimous conclusion, yet again, one we did not expect to come to. But nonetheless, the conclusion was reached, and the proper authorities, that is, you, have been informed.\n\nThe Australian Government, after months of consideration, have decided that the human race can no longer be what it used to be. We are a shadow of what we used to be. Therefore, after months of debate, we have decided to be the one that falls on the sword – we are going to be the government that fixes it all. A fatal neurotoxin has been released from a secret location, and in approximately five hours, it will have spread to all corners of the world. Two hours after that, the deaths will begin. We believe that this is the only appropriate decision to be made. Just remember, you, reading this message. This is your fault.\n\nMy apologies, \n\nDavid Parlo, Prime Minister“\n\n---\n\nA small laugh emanated from Frank’s mouth. “They’re bluffing. Everyone is already infected. I’m sure the damned Americans are rushing their multi-trillionares into bunkers. It’s useless, they’re already infected. We all are. Get Parlo on the phone.”\n\nA couple hours later, a cleaned up Frank DeMachelli stood in his studio. The Australian government had set up the final step of the announcement phase, while other major governments were most certainly struggling to react to the news. Once the cameras would turn on, all the major networks and channels would be diverted to his studio, broadcasting live to the world. They all knew that several networks would immediately reverse the bug, and return it to scheduled programming, but dozens more would not have the appropriate measures to respond, and it’d snowball from there.\n\nA nameless stage hand counted down from three, and the red Recording button started beeping.\n\n“Hello, ladies and gentlemen. I am Frank DeMachelli, the president of Cuba.” Out of the corner of his eye, several lights blinked off – he was no longer broadcasting to CNN, Fox News, and a splattering of smaller networks. He knew in the back of his mind the Australians would fight back to get him on those networks once again.\n\n“I have but one simple message for you. Due to the governments of Russia, Britain, the United States, China, and others, drastic measures were taken to insure that the world be not scarred and blackened from the final steps of war those governments are inching towards.” CNN was back under control, but he no longer had PBC, MNSBC and Fox News was still resisting. “A neurotoxin has been released, and deaths will begin in approximately two hours. This is mainly the fault of Russian and American governments. Thank you for your time.” \n\nAs the red Recording button blinked off, so did the dozens of network lights – they all were now released to put on their own news and recordings. He sat there for a couple minutes, smoking a cigar, until the rumbling started. A radio crackled, warning him of a sizeable mob heading towards his estate. \n\nFour minutes later, the estate doors were thrown open, and dozens of enraged citizens poured in. They found no living soul. Only a dead man, a still lit cigar, and a loaded gun with a single shot missing. \n" ]	2
In the couple of seconds it has taken you to read this title a lot has happened. You blinked once, your heart has beat twice. Your face twitched, perhaps you shuffled your feet. The minute hand on th clock traveled to the next position with a faint click, the air conditioner made a paper flutter, as a leaf outisde trembled gently under the weight of a landing butterfly. The pat of footsteps in the hallway slid under the door. A lot happens every moment, and the vast majority goes unnoticed. However, there are those moments - moments of great tension, tragedy, glory, ecstasy, or epiphany - where time slows down and we are attuned to everything around us. Task - tell a story of one of these moments. It should be no longer than ten seconds.	[WP] Story of a moment.	[ "A banging on the door. Loud, insistent. The man on the other side wants in. \n\nBANG. BANG. BANG. \n\nI had to get out - No way, but through the door. Get ready, I told myself... \n\nBANG. With that, the door gave way, and in he came. He froze in place. I froze in place. We locked eyes. He knows me. I could hear my heart pounding, so goddamn loudly. The noise is so loud, but the room is so silent. My stomach relocates itself to where my balls are. My legs won't move. My arms feel like cement. My mouth is too dry to speak. \n\nHis mother looks at me from the bed. I somehow manage to turn my own head to look back at her. Our eyes lock and in that moment I knew. In that one, single, solitary moment I knew I had learned the one lesson I will forever carry.\n\nDon't stick your D in crazy. Especially crazy with a kid as old as you. ", "The tennis courts basked in the afternoon sun, the warm rays reminiscent of a dream of spring.\n\n\nThe familiar sound of that small green leather balls hitting the sweet spot of the rackets filled the air as I lined up slowly waiting my turn.\n\n\n\"Do you want to pair with me?\" I hear a soft voice ask me as I turned my head to my left quickly.\n\n\n\"Um.... sure\" is all I manage as I feel my hands starting to get clammy. My pulse quickened as I watched her get ready, her feet spaced out evenly, watching our opponents intently.\n\nAs I turned to watch the ball flying towards my side of the court, I realized it didn't matter even if I missed the shot. \n\nI smiled for what seemed like the longest time.", "I could feel the eyes of the crowd trained on me. A single bead of sweat trickled down the side of my face for a millisecond before it dropped onto the pavement. Inside myself, my heart was a revving engine. This is it, the moment you've waited so long for. It felt as though I was sweating from every pore conceivable, and whilst I tried to look strong I could feel my lower lip quivering.\n\nMy cheek twitched, a renegade emotion piercing it's way through my facade. There was a pit inside my stomach, and it took all my conviction to stay away from the edge. You've come so far, you can't let it up now!\n\nI wanted it to end, I was not brought into the world for a moment such as this. Timid and terrified I had danced around all the challenges life through at me, but here I knelt, pressing the advantage.\n\nShe was a silhouette, but still more beautiful than anything I had ever seen or dreamt of. The sun floated in the sky behind her - deep and red. Waves glittered as the light ran over them, a sea of silver and navy. And she was nothing but an emptiness against the brilliance of her background, but her shape alone was enough to move something inside me than all the greatest things I'd ever seen.\n\nMuscles contracted and tensed as she knelt down to meet me. I gritted my teeth and almost bit my tongue. Is she nervous too? She's never been nervous before... Her silhouette shook as she reached out and took my hand. I couldn't see her eyes, but I felt how they were staring deep into mine with such intense passion. There was another emotion there as well, but I couldn't quite figure out what that was. I held my breath as she opened her mouth. And like my bead of sweat, a single tear trickled from her eye as she told me \"Yes\".", "It was a summer years ago like almost no other, when you went up to me and told me that you can make the world change color.\nWhat? Little me asked how. \nHow? Well...\nLittle you took a breath, told Little me to look Little you square in your Little eyes, then Little you put both hands on my Little shoulders and looked up at the sky.\n\nMy face flushed beet red...\n\n...just moments before your forehead smashed into mine. \n\nMy eyes flashed the stars and lights; I was bruised black and blue; and I bled red onto Little you...\n\n...and then for the next sixteen years, you always colored my world. \t\n\n\t\t\t\t\t**\n\nYou smiled as we locked eyes.\n\nI grabbed your hand to go on a lovely stroll in the park across the street on this rosy afternoon.\n\nA noisy red car roared in the distance...\n\nBut I paid no attention. \n\nRight now, I saw nothing but the color of your love...\n\n...but you saw nothing but red. \n\nRed.\n\nRed.\n\nRed.\n\nRed from the eyes...\nRed from the hips...\nRed from the head...\nRed before you're dead. \n\nBut then I just realized a few things. \n\nWhat is unhappiness but the absence of you in my life? \n\nWhat is bitterness but never tasting your lips again? \n\nThose sweet lips...\n\nThose red* lips.\n\nWhat is cold if your love will keep me warm forever? \n\nYour warm love...\n\nYour red love.\n\nWhat is color if I can see nothing but the vibrant red drain away from your body into the lifeless pavement below? \n\nAnd from that moment on...you colored my world red. \n\n\n*Forever red.* ", "The sun woke her up, as it always did. She knew Alex was still beside her, because of his weight on the bed springs and that sensation of proximity like a blanket hovering just over her skin, comforting not unlike the real-life blanket over her. His weight's location and concentration told her he was sitting up, his back against the headboard. She could also feel his hand on her shoulder, feel it leave for a breath or so, and when he did she could hear paper rustle, and knew he was reading. \n\nShe also knew that it was before eight because he wasn't up yet, and he only read in bed when he had time to finish a chapter. Her feet were cold even though the blanket covered them, so she knew that he had recently covered them. These things she categorized like a list in the first few seconds of awareness, checking them off like errands. His weight shifted and she felt him looking at her, which told her that he now knew she was awake. \n\nWhen she opened her eyes, it was a reaffirmation of everything she had already known, but she wiggled her toes in delight nonetheless when her eyes met his. He had his reading glasses on, which she liked. And she had managed to look up soon enough to see the concentration on his face seamlessly give way to a serene smile, like a window opening to the sun. \n\nShe wondered what he was thinking, if he was worried about Lisa, and the baby growing in their daughter's belly. He hadn't been ashamed of the fact that he'd cried when they'd told him he was going to be a grandfather, and she loved him for it. She loved him for many things, his openness not the least of them. A sudden spark drove her to say it aloud to him, but he moved before she could speak. Gently, lovingly, his hand left her shoulder, dipped lower, and lightly squeezed her left breast.\n\n\"Boop.\"\n\nIf rolling her eyes made sound, he would be deaf.", "-098\n\nOne thinks a moment is a personal experience, but a moment can change everything. A bullet fired at a celebration, in its savage and terrifying flight into the heavens, experiences a moment that changes everything about it. It goes up and up and up, but at some point, it slows, and though the moment is brief, it stops. It stops for a moment shorter than the beat of a hummingbird's wing, then reverses direction and gains speed once more. Before that moment, the bullet was harmless and heading into the void, but in a moment, everything changed and that bullet became a danger to hundreds of party goers. Fire a thousand bullets into the air and each of them experiences a moment like that.\n\nNature has been firing bullets for years. We're the bullets and we have a nearly endless string of moments. However, there have been defining moments experienced by a select few notable personalities. In 1746, Benjamin Franklin outfitted a kite with a key, stepped outside on a rainy day and experienced a moment. In that moment, he discovered electricity. In 1879, Thomas Edison had a moment, and in that moment he created the first working light bulb. The first transistor was invented in 1947 during a moment at Bell Labs. In 1959, the first microchip was invented during a moment. Going into space was decided in a moment. The launch of the first satellite was a collection of moments. Let's face it, every thing we know about electronics and telecommunications was due to thousands of epiphanic moments. Why do you need to know about these moments?\n\nFive years ago, a moment occured. I was a part of it. It happened at 8:33 a.m. I was in my truck, the sun was in my eyes. My hand was inches from the radio dial. A Fedex Truck was frozen in time going the opposite direction. A red-tail hawk hung like a child's drawing in the background above the highway. A kid driving his mother to St. Louis heard a sound. His mother was slowly inhaling her last untroubled breath. A hundred and sixty miles away, a girl, barely sixteen, pressed a button. In that moment, a thousand moments came to a head. In that moment, five people disconnected one from the other came suddenly into each other's lives. In that moment, four strangers became responsible for the death of the fifth. I wish I could have held onto that moment and stayed frozen in time. I didn't even like the song. \n\nBut, a moment is fleeting, hiding between the sweep of a second hand. The penny drops. One snowflake always proves to be to much. An untroubled breath can't be held forever. I pressed the power button on my radio. The Fedex driver swerved, causing the car beyond him to honk. The girl far away sent the text. The mother jerked away at the sound of the car horn. The young kid checked his phone and lost control. The ripples from the moments Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Edision, Bell Labs, and thousands of other iconic men experienced all converged that day, in that moment, creating the distraction that young experienced. \n\nThe moment was gone. His car swerved, hit the outer road and flipped. I slammed on my brakes and raced to his aid. The boy was dazed and crying. I held his mother's hand. She missed the moment. She had no idea what happened. The girl far away waited while I watched her mother die. Her text asked only this: When should I expect you?\n\nI read this on his phone while I sat surrounded by dew drops of broken glass, listening to the last papery breath of an old woman as she expired.\n\nWhen should I expect you? She asked.\n\nIn a moment, I texted back. No longer.", "As humans, we seldom think as ourselves as weak. Most of the ego-centric ones will claim a strength that they are a self-driven, self-aware, socially conscience member of society. Though, in the given moment, waiting for my girlfriend in New York, I could not be more wrong. \n\n\nWhen you see the sights you weren't meant to see, and your heart skips a beat, you might compare it to being frightened by the beauty or magnificence of something. But I didn't feel that. My heart stopped as I saw the sudden and inevitable thud, splat, crash and fall of a body from a rooftop. It's not the sight that makes a man weep, it's not even the blood. It's the sudden lightning strike from a blue sky, an avalanche from a clear quarter, the rifle shot in an elementary school that kills your soul.\n\n\nMy heart stopped.\n\n\nI didn't hear it thump its thump until I realized that the body, the expression, that face of that person...\n\n\nWas my girlfriend.", "The earth quivered with anticipation. The peoples eyes were averted, they saw not the tragedy at hand. \n\nCars raced by. I sat in one as the streets slowed down in my mind. The vision of getting to where I was going stopped. And out of the corner of my eye, on that long winding highway, I saw a plastic lid for a McDonald's cup.\n\nThe golden light of sunset glared upon the clearish lid as the wind gave it a breath of life. In a fraction of a second, the lid was off, rolling on its side, feeling more alive than it had its entire life. \n\nIt rolled along with the best of us, chugging along for what seemed like an eternity in five seconds. My best wishes were with this lid, this tiny, insignificant piece of litter that no one would have even cared about before.\n\nAnd then, as quickly as it had begun it was over, the lid slowed and fell. Inside, I frowned. I saw myself in that lid. I saw my friend in that lid, I saw my family in that lid. \n\nBut as with the rest of us, we all fall someday." ]	8
	[WP] I read the report.	[ "\"Fuck you,\" Fox managed to blurt out in between bouts of rage. He held his pistol with two hands. Angelo taught him that.\n\nThe figure opposite of him shifted his gaze to face him, his right hand occupied by a glass of Scotch. \"I see you read the report,\" He said, taking a few steps. then a seat. He gulped a mouthful of scotch from his glass, then continued. \"Then you know that Destiny Falls was a front. It was a housing element for Gekko Tech's weapons rese-\"\n\n\"I READ THE FUCKING REPORT!\" Fox screamed. His emotions left unchecked had compromised the situation. It was a ticking timebomb now. He needed to work fast. \"Why'd you do it? Why'd you fucking do it, Weyland?\"\n\nThe figure in the chair smirked. \"Now, now. Fox, is it? Necessary sacrifices must be made if we are to win this war. The relief group we sent was a pragmatic sacrifice. Now our hands are washed clean of the bomb. Gekko Tech can't blame us if we sent a group to help the people of Destiny Falls. Your brother, and all the other fine, fine people gave their life to ensure this war would be over.\"\n\n\"Those innocent people fucking died because you couldn't just pony up the decency to put out the olive branch. The Leons lived on that planet. The fucking family that gave The United Federation of Earth their finest generals! And you bombed them!\"\n\nWeyland Mercer's gaze turned sour. A small fire could be seen in his eyes. \"Now you listen hear, Lionheart,\" He decreed. The glass of scotch fell to the floor. \"That order was one I grappled with for months. And if you believe I didn't think about it's repercussions one bit then you're a damn fool, more so than your foolhardy brother!\"\n\nFox pulled the trigger. The Bullet pierced United Federation of Earth's Archduke Weyland Mercer's stomach. He slumped in the corner, gasping for air. It would be a slow, wretching death.\n\n\"You did,\" Fox calmly said as he rummaged the desk of the man he just shot. He had found it. The proof.\n\n\"See you in hell, Mercer.\"\n\nNo longer was he Fox Lionheart, mercenary in service to the United Federation of Earth. He was The Desert Fox. The terrorist. The truce-smasher.\n\nThe man who gave it all away to tell people the truth.", "\"And what do you think?\" \n\n\"It's- it's madness!\" Creed shouted.\n\n\"Shut up\" Alison said in a harsh but quiet tone, \"keep your voice down, do you want to get us killed?\"\n\nCreed put his head into his hands, finding all this hard to believe, \"we have to get out of here, we can't stay here, if he's willing to do- to do...that, then we're all just expendable to him\"\n\nAlison sat there, thinking, \"okay, you're right about us being expendable, but leaving is just as dangerous as staying-\"\n\n\"Are you fucking with me!\" Creed shouted, interrupting, \"if we leave, sure maybe we'll run into bandits, and I highly doubt we'll run into any of these- these fish people!\"\n\n\"Fish-men\" Alison corrected, emphasizing on men.\n\n\"Whatever, look we just have to take chances sometimes\". \n\n\"I am taking my chances Creed, I'm staying\"\n\nCreed looked at her like she was joking, his face signifying his realization, \"I....so that means you're going to help him?\"\n\n\"I guess I'll have too\"\n\nCreed stared at her for a couple of seconds, \"right then, I won't judge you, we all have to do things to survive, especially in a world like this\" he snickered at himself, he stood up, \"I guess this is goodbye then\".\n\n\"I guess it is\" she responded coldly.\n\nCreed stood up from his desk, he saluted, \"it's been an honor major Alison Handeck\"\n\nShe didn't even look up at him, \"likewise\" she said with low effort.\n\nCreed lowered his hand slowly, expecting more, nothing came. He walked past her towards the door, he opened the door.\n\n\"Well then\" a rough voice said, over the sounds of a dying animal.\n\nAlison turned quickly to see what was happening, she gasped in horror, as general Timber was clutching Creed by the throat, Timber tightened his grip more and more as the seconds past, eventually crushing the life out of Creed.\n\nCreed's body fell to the floor, dead blood spewing from his wound, \"so... Alison, I hear you're apart of our cause now\".\n\nShe stared Timber down, trying not to show fear, \"I really haven't got a choice, do I?\", Timber smiled at that one. \"Well, what is your cause?\"\n\n\"You couldn't tell by the report?\" Timber asked with that disturbing grin of his.\n\n\"I have an idea, and I'm guessing it involves your friends back there\"\n\nTimber continued to grin, as his inhuman ally walked in behind him. ", "\"Sitrep from the FOB Gamma. If I may speak freely, it paints a harsh scene out there, Sir.\" Lieutenant Coleman handed the communique to General Toms. It was terse and left everything to the imagination. \n\n\n> COMMAND OPS:\n>\n> POSITION HOLDING. CASULTIES OVER 50%. FATALITIES OVER 25%.\n>\n> SQUID POSITIONING ON 2 SIDES. SUPPLY LINES DISRUPTED ON 2 SIDES.\n>\n> REQUEST REINFORCEMENTS IF POSSIBLE. FINSTAT: K-BOMBING ACCEPTABLE.\n\nGeneral Toms shifted uncomfortably in his chair. There were over 5,400 men still fighting at Forward Operating Base Gamma. They were able to hold their ground against the squid onslaught, and the thought of having to sacrifice them in hopes of slowing the tide of tentacles and teeth left the him visibly distressed. There was little time to redeploy forces from the northern front without leaving the capitol undermanned, and if that base fell, there would be no viable defense options until the squid were bearing down on Kriegmont.\n\n\n\"If the field commander is willing to authorize us k-bombing the site, we need to retrench our logistics depot closer to Kriegmont.\"\n\n\n\"Are you authorizing the k-bombing, Sir?\" \n\n\n\"I read the report, Lieutenant. What do you think?\"\n", "\"Hello Mr. and Mrs Patterson. Thank you for coming today. I arranged this meeting out of respect of both of your donations, achievements towards this school.\"\n\n\nThe parents shifted nervously in their seats.\n\n\n\"I've read the report that our academic advisors have provided about Lucille Patterson. I have to admit, it's completely staggering. As her parents, I would assume that you have read the report?\"\n\n\nMr Patterson readjusted his glasses and softly replied. \"Yes, I read the report.\"\n\n\n\"I think her actions warrant more than pre-emptive action. The problem is whether you think our plan of action is necessary or even worthwhile. We would love to keep her here, but it seems like that is impossible at this current moment.\"\n\n\nMrs. Patterson looked at her husband. \"We only want what's best for our daughter. It's not like she knows her potential.\"\n\n\nThe principle began looking something up on the computer system. The brief silence that filled the moments between clicks and clacks of the computer keys permeated the air. An abrupt and aggressive hit of the enter key finalized the Principle's search. \n\n\n\"All I can say is that, in my personal opinion, Lucille is by far, the most talented person in the school, and forcing her to stay in 2nd grade would be tantamount to torture. While she did forge documents to apply as home schooled teen to Harvard, her activities have actually shown that she is capable of going to Harvard.\"\n\n\nSweat now dripping down both parents foreheads.\n\n\n\"Then let's do it.\"", "“I read the report,” Luke said into his headset, as he paced back and forth in his small, round cabin. \n\n“And,” the man on the other end of the phone asked. Luke could tell he was testing the man’s patience.\n\n“Honestly, Sir, it’s shit.” He knew his response was out of line, but it was the truth. In his entire career, Luke had never seen a report so abysmal; they were fighting a losing fight and flying directly into the the crossfire. If they continued to follow the course, his ship would be lost within the week. \n\n“Well be both knew that was going to be the case, Luke. Do what you can to minimize the damage, and get the job done. Is that clear?” The man’s voice was firm, and Luke knew there was no further discussion to be had. \n\n“Yes, Sir,” Luke responded. There was a slight click, and then Luke was alone with his thoughts.\n\nGet the job done, the man told him. But what job was that? Killing himself and all of his crew in a wasted attempt to stop an army of drones whose operators were safely hidden more than four-hundred light years away. This couldn’t possibly be the most effective use of 47 lives. Well, fuck that, Luke thought. \n\nIn what he would later describe under oath as a brief moment of brilliance, Luke called the flight deck and gave this simple instruction, “Just heard from Station, the battle started to move east at a rate of 47 macromiles an hour. Follow it.” The moment he disconnected the line, Luke knew he would have to answer for the lie eventually. If only he knew it would be his enemy's questions he would have to answer.", "\"So, what'd you think?\" \n\n\"About the report?\" \n\n\"No, about the battle.\" \n\n\"Well, I wasn't there sir.\"\n\n\"But you read about it.\"\n\n\"Well, yes, I read the report.\"\n\n\"So what'd you think?\" \n\n\"About the battle or the report?\"\n\n\"Foolish idiot! The report than!\"\n\n\"I thought it was well written.\"\n\n\"Well-written?\"\n\n\"Yes sir, the font was very legible and the margins-\"\n\n\"What of the battle, daft child?!\"\n\n\"Well sir, according to the report, it was pretty savage. Says both sides ran outta ammo and starting throwing rocks?\"\n\n\"Yes, you should have seen it.\"\n\n\"I didn't see it sir, I wasn't-\"\n\n\"I know, I know, you weren't there. Did you read about my heroics?\"\n\n\"It said you ran into the enemy lines with your bayonet, charging to their soldiers.\"\n\n\"And?\"\n\n\"And what, sir?\"\n\n\"What'd you think of it?\"\n\n\"The charging? Well, according to what I've read, you tripped mid-way-\"\n\n\"You know nothing of heroics!\"" ]	6
	[FF] What is the shortest, saddest, most emotional love story? (55 words or less)	[ "As fat, salty tears edge their path, her gaze follows up the officer's suit to his face. \"No.\" Knees buckle; she falls to the porch.\n\nThe uniformed man shifts from one foot to the other, as he presents her a triangle folded flag. \"Sean was a good man. I'm so sorry for your loss.\"\n", "Her gasping slowed, the linens grasped tight suddenly freed. Between her breaths there were no others. At the bed-end a pale man cradled a purple mass, his eyes shuttered and tears welled behind his medical mask. He cradled the mass, still affixed to its mother, higher as for her to view. \n“Anna...”", "It wasn't Eric's intention to sit there in the broken glass all day. He didn't care so much about the tv, that could be replaced. It's what used to sit beside it, gone, irreplaceable. He sobbed and wondered what kind of thief would take his urn. Why would someone just take her away like that?" ]	3
	[WP] The last argument between friends	[ "C'mon, it wasn't that funny!\n\nBut it is, don't you like it? \n\nNot really.\n\nSeriously? I thought you liked stand up shows!\n\nNo, I think it's just lame observations about life in general.\n\nWow. I did not know that. That you didn't like stand-ups, I mean. \n\n...\n\nSo why did you come along? \n\nI though we could just hang out or something.\n\nWe could do other stuff. Play pool, watch movies or something. \n\nI know.\n\nThen why?\n\nDo I have to make myself obvious?\n\n...\n\n...\n\nI did not know that. \n\nNevermind. \n\nLook, I never though tha-\n\nYou've said you \"did not know\" twice by now. Don't make it three times because you are starting to give off this impression of being ignorant.\n\nOK, I'm sor-\n\nDon't apologize either. It isn't your fault\n\nFine, but let me-\n\nWhat?\n\nSay somethi-\n\nWhat can you possibly say to make it worse now?\n\nI feel the same way too. ", "Slowly everything was gathering back into the point of origin, matter created by the Primals to be their homes, servants or lovers, all coming back to the sphere.\n\n\"Its almost over\" Ran said, the energy crackling in his palms: \"Soon everything will be free from our rule and we will finally be able to rest.\"\n\n\"Think about this Ran!\" his closest friend begged him: \"Even if you do this it will only stall everything til the next cycle, you saw what happened to the last generation when they were reborn.\"\n\n\"I know, and that's why I plan stopping the rebirth before it even begins.\"\nThe idea sent shivers down Molus spine. Stopping the rebirth? But we are the epitome of creation, PERFECT BEINGS! there will never be anything as great as us!\n\nAye, brother. he was listening, of course he was. There was never moment they were apart ever since they met in The Final War. But every time we revive the cycle will repeat itself. Maybe if we stop it something different will happen.\n\nDetermination suddenly flared in Molus eyes. \"I cannot allow you to do that Ran. Think of your family! Think of our friendship!\"\n\n\"I am, and that's why I will stop this endless cycle. Aren't you tired of doing the same thing AGAIN AND AGAIN? I am, and I'm sure you are too, you just don't realize it.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry Ran\", he said as he readied his weapon \"But I cannot allow you to do such a thing\". He slashed, a blow that was able to cut the fabric of the world itself. However it only bounced of his friends chest plate.\n\n\"I am sorry too Molu, but you cannot stop this anymore. If life ever comes to be again, and we find our way to it, you will come to see that I was right friend.\"\n\nWith a cool look in his eyes Molu sheathed his weapon and stared at his old friend, the one he once called brother: \"If I ever find you again, I will pretend not to know you, Ran.\"\n\nHis friends expression changed to anguish and then contempt:\"I see, Then I hope you we never meet again, dear friend.\"\n\nBy now everything in existence was in the tiny space, including the essences of the other Primals. With a last wink Ran joined his hands and let go of the energy holding everything together. The wold exploded.\n\nThe next thing Molu remembers is waking up screaming and covered in some fluids.\n\n\nEDIT: First time posting so I'd like as much negative feedback as possible (except grammar and formatting for now.)" ]	2
	[WP] Break the fourth wall in the most unexpected way	[ "Todd hadn’t stopped fiddling with the bed remote since the nurse had shown him what the buttons do. He slowly hummed up to a sitting position. “Did you know that [hospitals make mistakes on ten percent of their patients](http://af.reuters.com/article/commoditiesNews/idAFLDE76K0PI20110721?pageNumber=1&virtualBrandChannel=0)?”\n\nHis daughter was slouched into one of the two chairs in the room, watching the muted TV. “Hmm?”\n\n“It’s true! And one in three hundred patients will die from that error. That seems like a lot, doesn’t it?”\n\nHis daughter frowned. “That seems–“\n\n“Not only that!” Todd interrupted, slowly reclining. “[one in twenty-five people who are admitted to a hospital get an infection](http://www.cnn.com/2014/03/26/health/hospital-infections/).”\n\n“An infect–“\n\n“That’s four percent!”\n\n“Dad, I really think–\"\n\n“From the hospital itself! Isn’t that crazy? I mean, you come to a hospital to get well, don’t you? But you actually get sicker!” He laughed, looking at the ceiling. The foot of the bed began to rise.\n\nHis daughter sat up and put her hand on his. “Dad, if you’re worried about–“\n\n“[Pneumonia](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pneumonia) is the big one, obviously,” Todd continued, feet still rising. His daughter stroked his hand, watching his face. The bed was motionless for the moment, feet as high as they could go. “Two out of every ten get that. More than that, actually. Crazy, right? And another two will get an [infection from surgery](http://www.cdc.gov/hai/ssi/ssi.html). I mean, I came in here and got [this](https://www.google.com/search?q=surgery&espv=210&es_sm=91&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ei=wkpJU5K2MK_lygH60YHgCQ&ved=0CAgQ_AUoAQ&biw=1524&bih=830#q=appendix+stitches&tbm=isch&imgdii=_).” He pulled the blanket down. “But who knows what else I got?\"\n\nHis daughter recoiled a little, but didn’t let go of his hand. “Dad, come on.” She made a slight movement to cover him up again, but he resisted.\n\n“This is a pretty routine surgery, but the numbers say that there’s almost a one percent chance that I’ll get an infection from it. [Some sources say three percent](http://www.medscape.com/viewarticle/723601)! And that’s not even taking the errors into account!” He stroked the stitches, thoughtful. “[There could be a pair of forceps in here](http://www.seattlepi.com/local/article/Surgical-tools-left-in-five-patients-1074029.php), or a flashlight.” He examined his stomach. “Probably not a flashlight,” he murmured to himself. \"Unless it’s off. I guess it could be off.” He cleared his throat and raised his voice again. \"Point is, hospitals,” he stressed the word, \"are [not always good for your health](http://health.usnews.com/health-news/best-hospitals/articles/2010/07/14/when-a-hospital-is-bad-for-you).”\n\nTina rolled her eyes. “Dad, seriously. Are you going to talk that way when Mom’s here? Because she’s already really worried. She could, you know… freak.”\n\nThe bed began humming again as Todd’s head slowly rose. He nodded slowly. “This seems a little… unnecessary? We’re not living in the dark ages, for Pete’s sake! [We know how to do this stuff](http://www.ahrq.gov/patients-consumers/diagnosis-treatment/hospitals-clinics/10-tips/index.html)! We know about germs. We know [how to avoid pneumonia](http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/000146.htm). We certainly know how to avoid leaving tools inside patients.\n\nThere were two sharp raps at the door, and a nurse bustled in pushing a tray. “Good morning everybody! Hello Todd, and… Tina, right? Time for some tests!” She gave Tina a nurse look. “You may want to leave the room, sweetie. And for real,” she said, looking at the bed, \"I didn’t know you could do that.”\n\nTina nodded and squeezed her father’s hand. “We’ll continue this in a minute, Dad.\"\n\nTodd smiled, still looking at the ceiling. “I hope you learned something today. There’s a lot more info out there; you just have to [know what to look for](https://www.google.com/search?q=hospital+safety&oq=hospital+safety&aqs=chrome..69i57j0l5.2383j0j7&sourceid=chrome&espv=210&es_sm=91&ie=UTF-8).” He winked, and then turned to his daughter. He smiled as if seeing her for the first time. “Hiya kid, sorry about that. Continue what?\"", "John looked at Brenda and at the gun she was pointing at him. \n\n\"Why are you doing this?\" He asked.\n\n\"Why?\" She repeated. \"Why?!\" She shouted. \"You cheated on me.\" She screamed. \"Again.\"\n\n\"Baby, I never . . .\" He began, holding up his hands to forestall her.\n\n\"I found her ear rings.\" She snapped, holding up the dangling pieces of bling. The look of anger stalled out for a moment as she looked with fresh eyes upon the ear rings she was holding. \"Are these Genas?\" She asked, cocking the gun. John sighed and turned to address the readers. \n\n\"You might want to step to the side.\" He advised.\n\n\"You slept with my sister?\" She roared, pulling the trigger. \"You bas---\"", "Hi.\n\nThis was originally a much longer post. But, by the power of anagrams, I've turned it into something else. Also, I had to get rid of quite a few letters and some punctuation. This guy can't get enough semi-colon, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I put some letters under your rug and some under the sofa and I ate some...\n\n...point is, it's really hard to not break the fourth wall when you're a first person more or less present tense narrator. \n\nWould it have killed him to make me omniscient? Because if he had, I'd be in Vegas right now in some high stakes poker game and switching narrative perspectives like a boss.\n\nOh, that's a plan. Let me see if I can work out how to submit a Writing Prompt of my own. If you see one about [a high stakes poker game](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/22w103/wp_a_man_who_has_only_ever_played_poker_for/), stop by and give me a few hundred words to work with, willya?\n\nBaby needs new shoes!\n\n\n\n\n\n\nqwkdirnzqzxzkl;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;", "When I woke up this morning, I wasn't expecting things to go quite so wrong. My usual routine started out as usual: fry an egg, slide it onto a slice of toast, pour some coffee, cram the whole thing into my face in a hideous mishmash. Shit, shave, shower, all the usual. Shrug into my favourite double-breasted, reach for my briefcase on the way out the door, usually a brisk walk to catch the train to the city.\n\nBut today when I stepped out the front door to head to the agency, something felt terribly, awfully wrong. The cars were visibly different: sleek, metallic plastic-looking things with curved windscreens and feminine curves. As I gawped, a man in denim trousers and an undershirt put a hand out towards a car. The car let out a raucous \"BIP! BIP!\" I leaped back, startled, and he turned toward me in some confusion.\n\n\"All right, man?\"\n\nI nodded, frowning, and walked swiftly away, towards the station. My head swivelled on its own axis, my brain registering strange sights. Women in sleek men's suits, fitted to their curves. Corner stores jammed with posters in the windows advertising brands I'd never heard of. Mothers pushing babies in odd prams that combined plastic and metal in weird ways. Someone pushed past muttering, \"Sorry, dude.\"\n\nThe whole world was curvier. The terraced flats in my neighbourhood were the same brick huddle as before, but towards the station I noticed steel-and-glass monsters that I'd never seen previously.\n\n\"Vincent?¨ \n\nI spun instantly towards the unfamiliar voice. A man in a business suit that fitted him strangely stood a few feet away, eyebrows furrowed.\n\n\"That's not my name, friend. Do I know you?\" I gave him a deliberately condescending smile. Clearly this man wasn't wealthy, by his suit. Middle class tops. Not a client.\n\n\"I'm sorry. You look a lot like someone I... Is your name Pete?\"\n\nI took a small step back, then rallied and stepped forward again, squaring my shoulders.\n\n\"And who are you, friend?\"\n\n\"I'm Dale Saunders. You don't know me. But I know you. And Trudy. How is she? Are she and your daughter still living upstate?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid I don't have time to talk. I have a train to catch.\"\n\nThe man looked at me with a smile not unlike the condescending one I'd cast on him.\n\n\"You'll find the train isn't the one you want. Your train...well, it's long overdue.\"\n\n\"Look,\" I said, all patience gone for this apparent stalker. \"I don't know your business here, but I can assure you, my business is none of yours. Good day.\" I strode towards the station but realised he was walking a couple of steps behind. When I turned to loudly tell him to leave, he was holding a small silver object in one hand. It made a sound like a camera shutter.\n\n\"What is that? What are you doing? Go away before I inform the authorities! What you are doing is...is...public harassment!\" I could feel my face heating up, turning red, and I was furious at my loss of control.\n\n\"Hey, look. I'm sorry, okay? It's just that I feel like I know you. From TV.\"\n\n\"From...what?\"\n\n\"Mad Men? Jon Hamm? Don Draper?\"\n\nMy shoulders hunched.\n\n\"Don sent you? I should have known! What sort of joke is this? Following me to work, asking me personal questions about my wife? What is Don up to, huh? Huh?\" Without thinking, I put both hands out and shoved the man. Saunders, that was his name.\n\n\"I've a good mind to call the police! See what Don Draper says about that!\"\n\nSaunders pushed my hands aside with one arm, and grinned.\n\n\"I know you, Pete. You're a pussy.\"\n\n\"I'm a...what?\"\n\nHe took advantage of my confusion to hit me in the nose with a closed fist. I staggered back, touching fingers to my burning face and seeing blood on my knuckles, and roared, running at him ready to tackle him to the pavement. My arms closed around his torso and I pushed, but he somehow stepped out and turned and I was face-down on the ground.\n\nThis was humiliating. My finger twitched on an imaginary trigger, and I wished fervently I could shoot this bastard and then Don Draper in a blaze of well-deserved glory.\n\nAnd maybe Roger, too.\n\nI looked up in time to see Saunders walking away from me. Over his shoulder he called back, \"I've always wanted to do that to you, Pete.\"", "He likes it when I'm cute. I think it makes him think of a nicer time, or happier circumstances. Adorable little quirks that I try to hide, but he never misses. Like having to stand on my pink-socked tippy-toes to reach the top shelf, even when I sometimes don't have to. Or how I always need to grab a cozy little blanket to snuggle up with on the couch while I watch TV or read a book, no matter what temperature the room is at.\n\nI brush my silky black hair to slightly cover my timid gaze with a window of mystery. My shiny lip gloss makes him serenade me in poetic imagery, causing my heart soar and skip a beat, embarrassing me to a blush and a shrinking downward glance. He can tell I enjoy the attention, even though I don't need it... But I would never let him know that!\n\nI have the kind of build that begs one to hold it, the kind of soul that begs one to know it and the busy kind of walk that begs one to stare at, but you'll notice it's never too busy to stop and pet a passing terrier, or smile at the down-trodden beggar.\n\nWhen I let him know I'm interested I make it a puzzle. I bite my lower lip and subtly stick my hip out. I stand next to him, so close he can smell the perfume and the scent will linger in his conscious all day, and I beg him to notice. He does notice. He always did, and I'm a little confused about why he doesn't act. I think he could be nervous. Like he know's what's down this road. He's intrigued, it's all he can think about, but his snake-bit sensibilities can't pull the trigger.\n\nAnd it ends like that. Because it's important to him that it's realistic. He won't end up with me. Not again. But he still has to tell the story... I think that perhaps it's because I'm everything he ever wanted. I think that maybe he writes me like his perfect girl because he can't stop torturing himself with me. My soft little dimples make him smile a while but sulk a deal longer. I'm the subject of so many stories because he can't let me go. Like maybe if he kept me around in fiction he'll forget that I ever really left.", "Gregor the Great and Mighty Powerful Warrior was a very handsome man. He had muscles on his biceps that were made of steel, and legs that were of iron. His strong fists could crack bones and fell 100-year-old trees. When he walked, the Earth trembled in fear, and when he spoke the moon ran away to the shadows. He was called upon to many a king to be their sole heir, but Gregor the Great and Mighty Powerful Warrior was a humble warrior and would refuse, returning to his humble castle in the center of Kophe and have a humble meal of beans and turkey.\n\nGregor the Great and Mighty Powerful Warrior favorite pastime is to go into the forest and find a bear. The two would spar, but Gregor the Great and Mighty Powerful Warrior would always prevail. Bringing the bear home, he would skin and mount the bear on a shield and hang it on his wall of bears. The skin would be turned into a new rug and the flesh and bones would be served up that night.\n\nOf course, Gregor the Great and Mighty Powerful Warrior was asked to defeat many mystical beasts over the years. The Partheoc, with its hypnotizing stare and minions of the dead, Gregor stabbed it in both its eyes with throwing darts. The Ohmel Wonder, who brought chaos to the town with great fires and metal shards, Gregor drowned it in the Waterfall of Tusca. And The Ioh, whose corrosive skin vaporized everything it touched, Gregor soaked it and turned it to beer. And everywhere he went he was cheered on and celebrated, for he was the truest hero of all heroes.\n\n(F-)\n\nSee me after class" ]	6
Nice entries ! :) I wanted to see how you respond to this prompt inspired by one of my stories in my website. Here is the original story, contributed by many others in continuing story (CS) style : http://storyline.io/story/T93uD5w3dowCPr563/5050	[WP] Write about a boy who gambled his life with a demon	[ "\"You know,\" said Satan, \"your mother doesn't have to die.\"\n\nJohnny, still clasping his mother's hand, turned and looked at the towering shadow on the wall. \"Did... did you say that?\" he trembled, pointing at the mysterious black shape.\n\n\"Oh yes, that's me,\" said Satan. \"As I just told you, I can save your mother. I can tell you know that she will die in one hour. Look at her, Johnny. She's slipping, even now.\"\n\nTears welling in his eyes, Johnny's eight year old eyes sunk in the sight of his dying mother. She sat upright in the hospital bed, as she had for the past eight days. Tubes, wires, and needles covered every inch of her shrunken arms, making her look more mechanical than human. The hospital blankets covered her frail body like a shroud, and her chest barely moved with each shuddering breath. Her failing heart trembled in her chest as she resided in a tormented dream, from which she quite possibly might not wake up from.\n\n\"What do you want?\" Johnny cried, galvanized by his mother's frailty. As she had protected him, it was his job to protect her.\n\n\"So you are willing to gamble?\" asked Satan, licking his lips in anticipation. \n\n\"Yes,\" said Johnny, stoic in his determination to save his mother. As you may know, a mother will give up anything to save her child. The same goes for any kid: they will protect their parents at all costs.\n\n\"Excellent, let's begin!\" snarled Satan. \"I will save your mother. She will live many more years. Under no circumstance will she die- I can see to that.\" With that, Johnny's mother gasped for air, and her lungs expanded, finding newborn strength. \"I can also take it away-\" and Johnny's mother slipped back into sleep- \"if you do not respect our deal.\"\n\n\"With every extra day your mother lives, your death will be 2 days sooner. Do you agree?\" \n\n\"I agree.\"\n\n\"Excellent,\" cackled Satan, and with that, he vanished.\n\nJohnny collapsed into his mother's lap and began to weep.", "\"So how does this work? Do I sign a paper saying you have my soul, I am going to hell..\" My mind wanders but he cuts me off.\n\n\"No, no nothing like that. You see I am not interested in getting more people to hell, I got enough coming in every day. But from time to time it's nice to have someone who will do whatever you say no questions asked. It will only be once.\" \n\nI turn my eyes and look at him for the first time, \"That's it? Only once.\" \n\n\"I don't need it any more than that. I can make this deal ten times a day if not more.\" \n\n\"What sort of task will it be.\" He smiles, he knows he has me.\n\n\"It could be anything, kill this man, buy a slice of pizza for me, kill yourself. Really it's just for my entertainment.\" \n\nI look at him with disgust as he smiles on. He must get that look a lot. \n\n\"And if I refuse what you ask of me?\" I need to know, I need to understand. I need to know the risk even though I think I understand it.\n\n\"She dies instantly, no time to even gasp. So is it worth it to you?\" \n\nI look at my daughter, not even a day old, lying, dying, in the incubator. \n\n\"Yes of course.\"\n\n\"Good\" Snap. The monitor beeps, a nurse comes over and smiles.\n\n\"Her heartbeats back to normal, she will be just fine. \n\n", "It happened at a crossroads, as it usually does now. It used to need chalk and bone and words. Strength was required- intent and purpose. But nowadays curiosity would suffice.\n\nThe boy liked to think he was closer to a man then he really was. He was young and round faced. He was soft-spoken and a tag-a-long. There were two other ones, an older boy and not-quite-a-man. They would bike in a line, the boy last in it. He was never angry or disappointed. During the hot days of summer the older boy liked to fish, so they would bike to the river and cast their lines and wait for nothing important and watch bugs skitter on the water. On sticky days they went to the swimming hole with the still water because the not-quite-a-man liked to splash the girls until their suits were damp and thin. On a day that was not too hot or sticky the not-quite-a-man decreed they would go to town. \n\nAfter the others went into the stores the boy chained his bike to a lamp-post and walked along the road until he came under the shade. It was not any cooler, but it was darker and the boy felt better out of the sun. As he walked the dust coated his shoes and turned his pants blue-brown. He walked until he can to a crossroad, the crossroad, and saw a man sitting on a stump. He was a tall man with narrow wrists and fingers and thin arms and legs. He was using a stick to scratch the dirt- patterns and symbols and lines- and the boy watched. After a while he looked at the boy. He had thin skin that showed the bones of his face. The boy was not afraid of the man. Without standing from his wooden throne the man rubbed away the scratches with his foot. The man gestured for the boy to come closer. He then drew a perfect circle in the dirt and drew a bag from his pocket. From it he tipped a cat’s eye into the boy’s hand. It was perfect orange with a hint of black and so smooth the boy could almost not hold it. The man stood finally. He was tall as a tree and narrow as a reed and his face was as sharp as a break. He crouched on his side of the circle and gestured for the boy to do the same. The man poured out a game and they began to play. As they played the man talked. He talked of places the boy had never heard of: Troy and Babylon and Timbuktu and Reric. The boy is as good a listener and he does not focus as much on the game. He enjoys the sun warming the back of his shirt and the Spanish moss swaying side-to-side-to-side and the whirr of cicadas. He does not know how many games they play, but he knows he is losing to the man. He doesn’t mind too much. The cat’s eye is wicked; it rolls smooth and hits just hard enough and is not too heavy or too light. The game is a comfort. It is something the boy likes to do, much more than fishing or swimming. The man starts to ask the boy about what he wants from life. The boy tells him about the not-quite-a-man’s girls and the older boy’s fishing. The man laughs. It sounds like he is out of practice, but the boy enjoyed the man’s company too much to mind, and tell the man as much. The man looks surprised; would the boy rather have a girl? No, and the boy laughs, because he is just a boy. No guitar, or a fiddle either- not even a gold one- because he can’t play, so what would the use be? The man nods and agrees. The boy talks now, about school and his mother and who he supposed his father might be. He hedges that the man might be tall enough, the man laughs again, and it is a less rusty sound. Finally the boy admits he’d like to play marbles forever, in this moment, because it is perfect and the man is good company. The man is shocked- the boy can see in his the narrow face and bright eyes- then tells the boy about things beyond the crossroad. There are cities and countries and places still not discovered, which is a funny enough joke to the boy, and he shouldn’t want to spend all his time with the man at the crossroads, play marbles forever. Forever is a long time, the man says, you wouldn’t like it. The boy finally agrees. He asks the man what he wants. The man sighs. He wants to leave the crossroad too he admits. The boy offers the man the use of his bike, chained up in town. The man considers for a moment. Then he shakes his head. I may go to a city, he tells the boy. The boy had heard there is work there and thinks is it a good plan. The man looks underfed. With that decided the man gathers his marbles. The boy is loathe to surrender the cat’s eye, but the man is very insistent. It’s nothing a boy like you can afford he says not unkindly. He tucks the bag away and shakes the boy’s hand. His hand is warm and firm and he gives a boy a closed mouth smile. The boy watches the man stroll away, hand tucked in pocket and whistling.\n\nThe boy walks back toward town. When he arrives he is not sure what happened but he is quickly distracted by the older boy and not-quite-an-man, who are both waiting for him.\n", "Everyone's heard of miracles. Those near-death experiences that turn for the best. Denny's hoping for one of those miracles, praying to every deity ever known. He's running out of time, out of air, but he still prays. He has faith, even though it's dwindling, that he'll find the strength to pull away from the tide, swim to to safety, instead of being swept away to another realm. Something hovers above him, near him. He can feel the chill through his whole body as the being approaches, waits for the invitation to save him. His miracle is here. Denny doesn't know what it means, to swallow the thing whole instead of salt water, but he does, opens up his heart and soul to the beast. It curls inside him, happy for the warm body, and directs him in the right direction, through the waves and the storms, using its strength to take them home. Denny is home, but the demon is fully entrenched. \n\nMalificent is delighted. She nearly purrs when she wraps herself in the new body, rifles through the memories of this new mind. The body's handsome, in shape and fully-formed. She can't find any defects, any blots of pain or disease in his memories. He's fresh and alive and so ready to be ruined. \n\nOut of all the bodies she's taken, all the lives she's lived, she's never seen such richness before. Maybe once, in the 1700s, when she inhabited the Duchess of Cordoba, did she even come close to such splendor. Denny has nine cousins, four siblings, two parents and a litter of squalling friends who celebrate his return. He has such love, all crammed in that little house. So many souls that Malificent can pierce and suck dry. The Duchess had servants, blind devotion, but never this kind of love, the kind of bond that's so strong it almost pains the demon to break. \n\nEven more than the friends, Denny has this girlfriend. Her name is Sarah, and she's beautiful, and loves the boy. Loves the body now, Malificient thinks, because Denny is gone. Well, he's still present, still has his memories and thoughts and dreams, but Malificient has taken control, stolen that tiny piece of free will that he never knew he had. \n\nWhen Malificent sees the cross around Sarah's neck, she wavers. She wonders if she should press on in this body, take this life. It's her's, she's earned it, but entering into a church is only asking for trouble. It puts a beacon on her--a demon in a boy's skin, just asking for an angel to come down and pluck her clean. \n\nMalificient doesn't know much about the other side. It's a pity, she always thought, how the spiritual planes never really spoke. She only knew her role, her most basic purpose: to eat and consume the souls of humans. She wasn't even really sure she'd ever been a human. Maybe, once. But she had no memories from that life, only echoes of feelings long since faded. She hadn't even fulfilled her purpose, not really. She'd never eaten a soul in its entirety, just consumed it until only the remnants clung to the bone. Of all the demons she'd seen, all the evil she'd felt, what feared her most was the unknown. Eat the soul and then what? Malificient had a feeling that even after such a feat, she'd never feel truly full. " ]	4
	[WP] A soldier/warrior balks at the violence and horror of battle. Then, they start to revel in it.	[ "This might be a little choppy because I'm tired and I need to go to bed.\n\n------------------\n\nThe morning bell rang early. I doused myself in cold water and suited up just in time for the commander to order us into formation.\n\n\"Our scouts have reported an encampment down the river. They are all warriors. We want every one of them dead.\"\n\nI never wanted to fight there. I joined the army to see the world. I dreamed of visiting Delhi, Cairo, and Belize. Just a few weeks after I joined, the war began. I was never told the details, not that it would have mattered. I was placed on a ship promptly as the news arrived.\n\nWe began to march. I fixated my thoughts on the orders I was given. I could never stand the sight of blood, and if previous battles were any indication, this would be a slaughter. I wasn't scared of defeat - we would certainly win. But at what cost? Who were we fighting? What did they do to deserve the be killed?\n\nMy trance was interrupted by a fierce, pulsating scream. I prepared to fire with my line as I caught the first glimpse of our enemy. A thousand men armed with spears were running toward us, nearly naked, covered in warpaint.\n\nI stood trembling in anticipation of the order to fire. I began to believe I would drop dead of sheer terror before the battle began. The enemy was running in a mass faster than I had ever seen a man run, yet it felt like they were only inching forward. I hoped the order would come soon to save me from my pain, or that God would send down a bolt of lightning to end my strife.\n\nI realized I could not let myself be consumed by fear. As their army came closer I could see the sweaty painted faces of the hopelessly overpowered tribesmen. Is this fear? How could something so weak control me so much?\n\n\"FIRE!\"\n\nI took a deep breath as I lowered my gun. I stared at the enemy mass and took my aim. My heart began to beat with the war drums. I felt calm, almost comfortable, with the chaos, and pulled the trigger without deliberation. I can never say for sure if I killed anyone, but I swear I saw a terrified face in that ocean of men look me in the eyes and drop to the ground. For a moment I felt a rush, like I had finally revenged an old enemy.\n\nI reloaded my gun and fired upon the commander's next order. This time I hit someone in the front, and he keeled to the ground gushing blood from his chest. I held my gaze on his anguished face. The right side of my mouth curled up into a reflexive grin. As he fell behind his men I fired another shot. The bullet grazed someone's arm and went into the leg of the warrior behind him. The one-sided battle continued for an hour.\n\nI lost count of how many men I had killed. At the pull of a finger, I was ending the life of someone I had never met before - someone who had probably never dreamed of his fate when he was young. For the first time I had control over someone's life: the thousands of tribal warriors and my own. I became Death. I became the horror.\n\nOther soldiers - even the commander himself - are concerned about my zealousness. I was not aware of their actions during the fight but I suspect they did not kill anyone. Surely anyone who tastes the power over life and death relishes in it. The British Empire is lucky to have someone like myself in their ranks.", "The taste of battle sits heavily on my tongue. The thick iron of blood that sprays as lives are ended comingles with the salt of aging sweat, of fetid urine. Pathos is in the air, aerosolized so that in every breathe, I drink death. \n\nDeath is not sweet. \n\nI cannot see through the writhing limbs and blades. The world shrinks as if trying to contain the chaos, but even then, I cannot keep it all within sight. My only knowledge is that I am not dead, so that no man has yet snuck behind me. They are below me though, trampled and trodden, even still frozen in that aspect of mortal fear we all wear today. We are brothers in that. We are brothers in death, and as brothers, we kill one another.\n\nMy brother was once at my side, but he is no longer. He wore red, and now my shoulder faces green. The man in green bears my brother’s shield, carrying it with the ease of a man who had faced battle before. It had seemed so heavy when my brother wore it, yet he would not give it up for the world.\n\nPerhaps my brother died. He was just a boy. \n\nHe was just a boy.\n\nThe sun beats down against us, a force in its own right, but heaven offers no answers, gives no succor. God is silent while men scream.\n\nI scream too now. It bursts from my throat as if trying to clear the blood from my lips. The man in front of me is unprepared; his shield is loose on his cradled arm. He does not even see me until he feels my sword. His eyes seek mine but it is only his blood that is able to permeate my flesh. \n\nHow much men bleed. \n\nI must look away, for his kin is at my throat. We fumble at our swords like madmen in the dark. My sword meets his mouth in a blossom of blood.\n\nHe was young.\n\nHow easily life ends. A nick of a sword, and then what was once a farmer, a son becomes a corpse. Their knees collapse as if thrust by a higher power. They fall into the mud as if they yearn for the earth. \n\nThe bodies at my boots threaten to pull me into the underworld with them, to burn in hell. \n\nI am going to hell now. Murder does that, they say. Thou shalt not kill. \n\nBut not now. I am not going. Not yet. \n\nI do not look to the silent heavens. I do not look to the grave that awaits me below. I look to the eye of the man across from me, with a blood-smeared face and battered shield. God takes and takes and takes. God took my crop, my home, and my wife. He took my brother. God was the reaper of our harvests. God’s whims decide our fate. \n\nBut, I could take as well. If Jesus bled for man’s sins, I could make others bleed for mine. \n\nTheir blood is my sacrament. As I accept the Eucharist from priest as mass, I now accept the blood of those closer to earth than God, for God does not hear us here.\n\nGod cannot hear us above such screams.\n\nI take and take and take. I am the reaper of their harvests. My whims decide their fate.\n\nI was once a poor smith in a sleepy village. I was once a husband and a brother. I was once a man. Here, I am their god. Here, I breathe the blood of the unworthy, which pours from their gaping lips, like gutted fish. \n\nHere, I drink death, and death is sweet.", "I had once hated the music of war, and despised being part of the orchestra of death. There was no reward in slaying my fellow man, I was however admittedly very good at it. The clang of metal on metal, the snap of bones, wet pulps resounding when mace met man and the shrieks of arrows hurtling towards their target... it was a murderous musical and one which I hated.\n\nThe aftermath of the orchestra was always a muddy hole full of dead bodies, littered all over the land with various fatal injuries. They were the lucky ones, the dead, as they didn't hear the wails of those too injured to escape but not enough to be granted a quick death. Arrows stuck up from bodies, and from the muddy ground making the war-torn scab of land look like a field where the arrows are some exotic crop. \n\nI used to hate it all, but eventually I became enthralled in the adrenaline rush of war. There's no feeling quite like it, watching a man bear down on you with his weapon of choice and forcing you into a conflict where only one shall walk away. I felt like a great farmer, swinging my sword in wide sweeps cutting down the crop - my enemy. The red flashes of blood are like paint, I am a painter who has but one colour... and I love painting now like never before. ", "I was drafted from prison. I didn't want to fight. They sent me to trenches in a far off godforsaken country, fighting someone else's war. I didn't give a damn about the hearts and minds, I didn't care if the politicians won or lost in their ivory courts, where winning or losing was a matter to laugh about behind closed doors. \n\nI fought because I had to. Because the situation demanded it. Because if I didn't, I would die and the men next to me would die. Survival and a sense of camaraderie, that's what they drill into you in training. They do a damn good job. I fired my weapon in anger for the first time storming building we thought housed the enemy. I killed a six year old child. His face completely gone, mother sobbing over his lifeless corpse, her offspring's blood staining her clothes. The boys siblings were in shock, then horror. \n\nI didn't sleep for days after that, and vowed never to fire my gun again. But they sent me out there, and I did. I killed one enemy in the trenches outside New Berlin, after the Winter Offensive pushed the enemy back into their mountaintop fortresses. He squirmed as I put a bullet in his gut, screaming bloody murder until I put another shot in his head to shut him up. I threw up after that engagement...how could I do these things? I killed people who at best were doing exactly what I was doing: just trying to survive. And for what? Politics? Economics? Religion? That boy and his family, forever shattered because of the men in the towers, looking down on us like ants. We are the pawns and they aren't even the queens or the kings. They are the players who know the rules and move the pieces. I was taught to march forward and obey orders, to shoot when I had to. When I needed to. \n\nSoon I had to kill another man: I blew his shoulder apart with a grenade and stepped over his body to reach cover, and watched as he tried in vain to keep his arm attached to his body as blood spewed from his gaping wound. I killed another man with my knife, my first in close combat, in a mission in the ruins of Prague: my blade piercing his Radiation-Shield suit and plunging into his lungs, just as training taught us. I saw his facemask turn crimson as he choked to death on his own blood. Each time it became more machine-like, more reflexive. Easier. \n\nIt was no longer a learned skill to be practiced in times of need. Long after all the men I was drafted with died in ways as horrible as the ones I killed by, I was killing. Surviving. I no longer was a brother in arms. I was isolated: the new bloods saw me as the blood and scar-covered man who ripped a sentry's tongue out so he would die silently, who paralyzed a man from the waist down by severing his spinal cord and torturing him by making him try to tread water till he gave us his side's artillery positions, then let him drown anyway. \n\nI reveled in it. I was good at it. Never before had I seen something so brutal, so utterly, objectively horrifying, in that light: it could be elegant, like art, the way men died. Each time unique, each time a rush of power. Bloodlust, I think, is the correct term. It was the first time since being arrested that I felt useful, that I truly belonged. \n\nThen the war ended, and I no longer had a place. I was freed from the service and allowed to return to civilian life. But I had no peace. Whereas before I had nightmares of killing people, now I had nights of no sleep: my routine had been disrupted. Some people get into habits that, when broken, throw them off to no end: smoking, drinking, sex, drugs and endless other vices. Mine had become killing. I relived my kills each night, relishing their detail where before I would have found horror. I found horror and disgust in daily life. Other veterens had difficulties, of course...PTSD was not a new phenomenon. I was not like that. I had found my calling as a killer. As a monster. I hated that part of me, the killer. But it was who I was. I hated myself and loved myself. Hated how I killed men no worse than me, loved myself for the calling I had discovered. \n\nBut who to blame for this transformation? Who to show what I had become? Who better, I thought, to show the repercussions for their actions than those players on the grand chessboard: the men and women who sent me into the fires of battle, not knowing what they would unleash. \n\nI am at peace now. I am at peace knowing that the doors of the Senate Chamber locked themselves as planned. I am at peace knowing that military excess being what it was, it was easy to obtain the guns, grenades, and poison gas I needed. I am at peace that not one senator escaped my comeuppance. I am at peace knowing the world saw their strong, charismatic leader, executed in the midst of his victory speech ending the great war, his blood staining the podium from which he callously ignored the lives lost. \n\nI am at peace having watched the warmongers claw at locked doors as they chocked to death on chlorine gas. I am at peace that I have killed, for once, in the name of something good. \n\nI am at peace with my plea of guilty to this act that you call a crime but I call a destiny, and that in the end the society which blindly perpetrated my bloodlust on others had it thrust in their faces once and for all. \n\nI am not remorseful. I am guilty. I am finally content. ", "\"No, listen. Listen. You don't - you don't understand. Why I quit, why I'm here, why I'm a wreck. It's not about - the killing. That's easy. That's fun. It's about what it means for me. It's - well I have to start from the beginning. Listen.\n\n\"Ten years back. Sign up with the mercenaries. Get my little tattoo over the eye, get a little weirded out but hey the money is great, beats joining the army, beats getting kicked to the streets. They give me a rifle, they give me a uniform, they show me how to use 'em. I'm good for a recruit, but I don't want to do advanced marksmanship. I think, hey, I'm gonna go up to the front lines, pop somebody. Show 'em I'm brave. Write home about how wrong they were about me. To whoever would read that letter.\n\n\"So they ship us out. Some hideous violent revolution. Government's overwhelmed, the rebels are armed, the fighting is heavy. They put us with the regulars, but the regulars are halfway wiped out. We gave the brass there a good deal or something - we practically replaced their army. Well, it's messy right off the bat. Eight weeks in I'm not sure I can handle the stress. Need to run away, but - oh no, I can't back down now, I'd be a coward. Killed my first man pretty early, too. He was about my age. I still remember his face. Remember a lot of those early faces.\n\n\"But then... half a year in, I stop. Stop remembering, I mean. Don't even look, sometimes. They aren't in uniform, they've got a gun, they die. It makes it tolerable, just worrying about my own problems. I still worry about those first kills though. They hurt. But I don't stop. Can't, really. I'm in uniform; they're shooting at me, I gotta shoot back.\n\n\"Takes me a year or two, but I'm stuck in the same goddamn city fighting the same goddamn people. I meet a team, become part of 'em, sorta. They always talked about 'battle brothers' and shit. I liked 'em. We killed together, survived together, you don't forget that. And these guys, they're way past the point of balking. Lost count of how many they've popped. They're cool, calm, collected, everything you want to be in a hellhole, and I start looking up to some of 'em. Try to learn how they think, maybe clear my head a little, forget the horror.\n\n\"We last 'til my third year out there, and then it's just bad luck, stepping on a hidden bomb. Lose most of 'em there. Makes me mad. I don't know who planted the thing, but I know it was a rebel, and they all sorta become... stand-ins. It isn't even about forgetting them anymore. It just feels good to take it out on 'em. Still, I'm moderating. One of my buddies, still with me, we rein each other in, a little.\n\n\"Fifth year out there, the fighting's sporadic. We've sorta won, y'know? The regulars aren't coming back, so we're just keeping the peace. Sometimes we try to put back up some of the stuff we blew up, but we aren't getting paid for that. Anyway, I meet this girl. Lovely girl. Never understood what she saw in me. I was a vicious prick, I did what I pleased, and she was just - she cared about people. Told me I wasn't half bad. I liked hearing that, too. I could say I won something, through all the fighting. Make it all sound like it was worth it. I guess I must've acted nice around her. She always said I just needed a break.\n\n\"Well, that doesn't matter. She and I, we last a year. Sixth year comes. Turns out we didn't win - we just drove 'em back. The fighting is worse than ever. Now they have tanks and planes and shit too. Never did find out who funded that. One day I walk into her home. She's hanging from a noose, wearin' a little sign saying 'death to sympathizers.' I don't - I'm not gonna talk about what her body was like. Don't even ask.\n\n\"But that was it. I went off the deep end. It - it got different. Not about forgetting, not about not caring. It isn't even about revenge. I don't care who I hurt anymore. Just so long as someone's feeling the pain, I can feel alright. Four years like that. I got into... well, they messed my girl up bad, but I mess their people up worse. Once you start to love it... hell, it stopped being about her. Who cares if she's dead, mutilated, who even cares anymore? Millions of people in the city, thousands dying, nobody misses a few more and it keeps me happy. Well I'm not happy, not even remotely, but I'm so caught up in it all I don't see that. Don't sleep at night. I get constant nightmares about that girl, I just chalk it up to old feelings and stay up.\n\n\"Tenth year out there. Final one, I didn't know that. I thought I'd be massacring rebels until I died of age. But one day it all sorta snaps into place. One of the rebels - a girl, a fucking teenage girl, no older than seventeen - I pegged her in a city street, but she's alive, just dropped her weapon from the pain and she's trying to crawl away. I'm doing cleanup for the team, so I move over to her. Put the gun in her face. Maybe she'll surrender. Hopefully somebody takes her away from me so I don't do what I know I'm gonna do. Well, she isn't scared of the gun. She's too busy looking at the body of a mercenary she shot dead. And she is freaking out about it, I can see it in her eyes. And I think - ten years ago, I was like that too. And it hits me, right then, that I'm not a human being. That I haven't felt shit in years and I don't do what humans do.\n\n\"But you have to understand - I would've loved tearing her to pieces, bit by bit. I would've relished the screams. I absolutely would not have regretted shooting her right there. But I just - I wanted to be a person again. I wanted to feel shit, feel shit that wasn't sadism. So I bailed her out. Shot up the rest of my team. Ran away, got her help. Ditched the country, hitchhiked home over a few weeks. And - well that's it, that's the end of the story. It isn't any different right now. Don't know if - when - those things start going away. Thinking about going back to that life, it makes me sick, so maybe it's a good sign. You haven't run away either, so that's... something. Dunno if you realize I'm not probably gonna change. But, hell, you want to put up with it, be my guest. I could use a hand.\"" ]	5
Feel free to put this in a classic historical context, or some kind of futuristic sci-fi monarchy thing!	[WP] A prince is crowned king, while still an adolescent.	[ "Darkness surrounded the city, thick like the mist that would come with a winter morning. Peter turned in his sheets, sweat sticking between the sheets and his blonde hair while embers in the fire by his bedside continued to burn. It had been a bad year with the goblins pushing further than they had in recent years. Too much for a 14 year old to see. \n\nKing August held council several floors below. He sat with his military council, tension in the air. It was clear that this years campaign had cost more than any in living memory, they were comparing it to the purges of the former years, before the city walls had even been completed. General Halbart and his aids were restless.\n\n“How many more would you slay before retreating to within the walls?”\n\n“We cannot leave the out farms! Our people will starve…”\n\n“You blind fool! Our men our being slaughtered by the dozen”\n\nThis was an argument that had happened before. Never though, had the King’s influence been so weak. \n\n“I will not allow you to leave those outside these walls to die!”\n\n“Then you leave me no choice, sire”, said Halbart, his eyes alight with fire.\n\nWithin seconds swords were drawn. August staggered back, caught off guard “You can’t”, he cried. They were the last words he spoke. Halbart moved with precision and thrust his blade into the Kings neck. Those around muffled the gasps for air and pushed the frail body to the ground. Their loyalty was clear.\n\n“We must move quickly”, began Halbart. “Inform the guards that are loyal; the king is dead. No details yet. Gather our men, and seal the gates. I will deal with the boy.”\n\nThe door burst open and Peter woke instantly. A rough hand grabbed him, and pulled his head upwards. \n\n“Peter – you’re still alive”\n\n“Uncle Edward – what’s wrong”. The panic was clear in his eyes. Peter had never seen the man this worried.\n\n“You must leave, now.” Shouts could be heard outside the door. Distant, yet nearing with every second. “Come on boy, get up. Do you remember the passage I showed you when you were young?”\n\n“Uncle, what is wrong?!”\n\n“It’s… your father” Edward managed. “He has been murdered”. A tear formed underneath his eyes, yet his gaze remained firm. “You have to leave. They are coming”\n\nPeter lay, unable to move. “Where is mother?” \n\n“I will look after her.” Edward moved to the window and opened the chest that lay beneath it. Hands trembling, he lifted the base out, revealing a staircase leading down. He moved towards the bed, grabbing a flask as he went, and threw it on Peter’s face as he dragged him towards the passageway. \n\n“Are you awake?” Peter nodded, blinking the water away. “Good. Your father has been killed. Halbart… he has begun his coup, as I feared he might. They are coming for you. You must leave.”\n\nPeter was beginning to come round, the reality of his situation setting in. Fear began to grip him. “What will happen to mother? Where… where can I go?” \n\n“Find the village of Ableton. My daughter, Evelyn will look after you. Your mother will be …ok.” Edward grimaced. “She will live, at least. Go!”\n\nPeter hesitated, uncertainty in his eyes. Light flickered outside his door, the voices much louder now. The ring of metal against metal hung in the air. Edward looked into the boys eyes, more tears now on his face. He kissed the boys forehead, and ruffled his hair for the last time.\n\n“Go. You are king now.” \n", "\"He's too young!\" A woman protested to her much older husband.\n\n\"My darling...\" The old man wheezed. \"The blood of the lion must always sit on the throne.\" He stopped to cough, blood splattering on his once white beard. \n\n\"Our son is no lion.\" The woman tried to reason. \"He's only a cub. My cub.\" \n\n\n\"And who would you have take his place?\" The old man narrowed his eyes. \"He is of able mind, unlike my eldest.\"\n\n\n\"He is young. The eldest is simple, I know. But I can control him...\"\n\n\n\"How dare you! A woman, let alone one barely worn in her crown, can run this realm. Even if you are my wife. You're lucky I chose your son over my previous wives'.\"\n\n\nThe Queen sighed, and took the contract. \"Your wish is my command, my king.\" \n\n\nThe old man smiled and nodded. \"I knew you'd see reason.\" He watched her sign it.\n\n\n\"Yes, I did.\" She smiled. \"I know what must be done.\"\n\n\n\nThe king was dead three weeks later. His son was crowned soon after. As the young man walked to the throne, his young wife at his side, the Queen smiled. \n\n\n\"Mama, when will I get to wear a crown?\" Her young son asked her.\n\n\n\n\"Soon, my son. Soon.\"\n\n\nUnbeknownst to the anyone in the room other than the Queen, the contract was burning, stoking the fire warming the people in the drafty throne room.\n\n\nToday she was a puppet master. Today she ruled the realm.\n" ]	2
	[WP] For a brief moment, you gain the power to understand the speech of animals. Within that period, your pet gives you a brief, but life-changing message.	[ "She stopped in her tracks. Her eyes widened. Her breath caught in her chest.\n\nAllison Mueller was a park ranger. It was three o'clock in the afternoon, and she had heard a report that a tree had fallen across Trail 7 just a quarter-mile past the falls. Her service vehicle was back at the road. She had just turned a bend, down into the valley. The forest was thick here.\n\nAnd there, right on the path, were three animals: A white-tailed buck, a raccoon, and western diamondback rattlesnake.\n\nThat, alone, would have been a heart-stopping sight, but it was their peculiar posing that made her freeze in a singular sort of fear and awe: The raccoon was riding the deer, its hind legs straddling the strong shoulders, and the snake was draped about the antlers. Behind them, the tree.\n\nThe viper hissed. But then it spoke. It spoke. She would understand its words, wispy and soft, yet authoritative in their rasp.\n\n\"Eve? Is that you?\"\n\nAllison's frame heaved, up and down, with her panicked breathing. Her hands shook. She dug the heels of her boots into the soft, forgiving ground. Down here, she could not feel the warmth of the sun against her legs or face any longer. Everything within her said to run, but she could not move. She was paralyzed.\n\nThe raccoon was next. His voice was supernaturally deep; smooth, velvety, almost charming.\n\n\"Remember, woman: We have walked the Earth for far longer than you humans have. This is our sign, and our warning. You have six days to undo your world, or we will end every bloodline you ever began. If we are to have war, we reasoned it was only fair to let you have time to prepare.\"\n\nThe snake rose, its length climbing up the antlers, until its head was eight feet in the ear, leaning towards Mueller.\n\n\"And you tell your Christ,\" it hissed, \"That I was commanding my Legion in the beasts before he ever learned to trick us into pigs. He will regret his error, and you will perish. You will perish!\"\n\nShe screamed, and ran.", "\"You're serious?\" Clem said eyes wide and disbelieving.\n\n\"Every word of it. It shocked the hell out of me.\" Roger said staring down at his meal. Not wanting to make eye contact with his new friend.\n\nClem paused and took a sip of his drink. \n\nThe diner was semi full of the morning crowd, and a few people were begining to recognize the celebrity in their midst.\n\nWith that a card was produced, and the pretty waitress smiled as a generous tip was offered.\n\nAfter \n\nListen Clem, I know we had our disagreements in the past, but since my umm... enlightenment I think we can put that behind us. Here, let me get your tab, I've got to get out of here before they recognize me and find their torches and pitchforks.\"\n\n\nAs Roger slipped out of the diner, Billy slid next into the booth next to clem.\n\n\"hey wasn't that the big PETA guy that was protesting our farms? Didn't he go nuts and claim the cows started talking to him?\n\n\"yup, that was him\" Clem said popping a fry in his mouth.\n\n Billy eyed his friend with a mixture of curiosity, and worry. \n\n\"was He eating this burger? Thats kind of weird for a meat is murder type\"\n\nWith a twnkle in his eye Clem leaned over to let Billy in on the secret.\n\n\"Apparently, Cows are assholes .\"", "Rebecca dashed out of school the moment the bell rang. It was a beautiful spring afternoon, and she loved playing outside just like any normal 12 year old would. She leaped down the steps, past the red flag with a white circle and swastika in the middle. She saw her school principal standing by the flagpole. She stopped, raised her right hand, and yelled “Heil Hitler!”. Not doing so would have been a very bad thing.\n\nShe reached her bike, hopped on, and began to peddle. The wind began to blow through her jet black hair as she strolled through the city street. She passed by her local deli and remembered she had to pick up groceries for her family tonight, since both of her parents were working. “I’ll do it later,” she thought. First she had some studying to do.\n\nWhen she arrived at her house, she took out her key, unlocked the door, and walked inside. She picked up her Torah and prepared to do her reading. She went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea, and out of the corner of her eye she saw her golden lab dog pushing his food bowl with his nose. He was hungry. She went to the cabinet to grab a biscuit and held it to his mouth.\n\n“Thanks!” the dog said.\n\nRebecca stood there, in shock.\n\n“Can I tell you something?” the hound said, wagging his tail.\n\nRebecca remained still in disbelief.\n\n“Stay at in your Arnold’s basement tonight.” Arnold was her neighbor. “And don’t tell him you’re staying there. He’s not home right now, and the basement window is loose so now’s your chance. And don’t leave a note for your parents either.”\n\nRebecca had no idea what to say.\n\n“Trust me.” The dog said before running off outside.\n\nRebecca was dumbfounded. Did her dog just tell her to break into her neighbor’s basement? Did her dog just speak?? She looked out her window.\n\n“Go! Now!” The dog said when he saw her standing in the window. “And stay in the closet down there! Don’t come out!”\n\nShe had no idea what was happening, but she had a feeling of what she should do. She took her Torah and walked over to Arnold’s house. After peering over her shoulder twice to make sure nobody was looking, she pried open the window, entered the musty basement, and shut it again. She had no idea why she was listening to a dog. She opened the nearby closet door, opened it, sat down, and shut it again. The closet smelled terrible, but hey, she’d already come this far.\n\nThere was just enough light for her to do her reading. After several hours passed, the sun went down and she couldn’t see a thing. She was starting to get hungry.\n\nNow ignoring the dogs advice, she quietly opened the closet. She wondered if her parents were looking for her. She wanted to go back to her house to grab a snack, or finally make it down to the deli. She peered out the window in the basement facing her house to take a quick look. Her face went pale. Her body numb. Almost mechanically, she stepped back from the window, opened the closet, shut it, and sat down.\n\nNazi soldiers were ransacking her house.", "October 7th 2017. It was an odd morning. By all accounts it seemed a day just like any other. That is, aside from the fact that my dog, Neil, was suddenly able to speak English. Neil was a chocolate lab crossed with some breed or other I’ve never heard of. We got him from a shelter when he was just a pup. He hadn’t been there long but he was thrilled to see us. His name had been Fido. This was not acceptable. I immediately had it changed to Neil. My girlfriend, Hannah, had argued quite vehemently that Neil was no name for a dog but I had insisted. I wasn’t sure why until October 7th. \n\n‘Jacob!’ he said to me. At that moment I was sure he was a Neil. He had the voice of a Neil. It was undeniably Neil-like. You’d understand if you’d heard it, I assure you ‘Jacob!’ he said ‘There isn’t much time. You must listen to me’ \n\nOf course I was a little taken aback by Neil’s sudden capacity for human speech, though perhaps not as taken aback as I should have been. Neil’s voice seemed so familiar, so closely associated with Neil in my mind that it seemed only natural that this dog would have this voice and the capacity for human speech must naturally follow. Though I wondered how a dog’s snout would even be capable of forming human phonemes. Even as I watched it happen I couldn’t pin down in my mind exactly what I was seeing. Words just came out somehow. As I thought this Neil was explaining the circumstances behind by being able to understand him all of a sudden but I don’t remember the specifics. \n\n‘There isn’t much time’ Neil said in his Neil-like voice ‘it is of paramount importance that I tell relay my message before we are no longer able to communicate’ \n\n‘Okay’ I remember answering. Neil seemed a confused. It would seem as though he had expected some resistance. I’m not sure why. He’s as much a member of the family as my own brother; more so really, as I haven’t spoken to my brother in almost half a decade. Some spat about inheritance I think. Still, there was no reason I would have distrusted Neil. \n\nNeil went on ‘I’m not your dog’ \n\nI didn’t understand. I cocked my head to one side and Neil addressed my incomprehension \n\n‘I’m not your dog, Jacob. You’re mine’ \n\nNow this seemed to make sense. Dogs are loyal, often energetic, playful and rather hairy. I fitted comfortably into all of these criteria; I even enjoyed chasing tennis balls were the opportunity to present itself. What I didn’t quite grasp was why I stood on two legs and he on four. I asked him thusly: \n\n‘If I am your dog then why do you seem to be more of a dog than I?’ I asked ‘I stand on two legs and you on four, you have a tail and I do not, my nose is dry while yours is wet. How do you explain that?’ \n\nThat was not an accusative or confrontational question, you understand, but rather a simple request for information to clear up the difficulties of the situation. \n\n‘It’s all just a matter of perspective. You just have to look a little harder to see things a little differently’ \n\nAnd as he said that I did as I was told. I looked at myself and at Neil and indeed, I found myself descending from my hind legs onto all fours while Neil reared up and stood erect. I looked at my hands that were now paws, my palms that were now pads. It felt right. I looked up at Neil, he smiled at me, his scruffy black hair obscuring his forehead. I smiled, or attempted the closest canine approximation, in reply. He scratched me behind the ear, attached a cord to the collar I had only just become aware of wearing and took me outside for a walk. How silly of me to have thought I was human. \n\nEdit: Accidentally left out a word", "\"Hey. Man.\"\n\nLooking up from his computer, Dan sees nothing in the room other than his Boxer, Crusty, looking up at him. \n\n\"Must have been a popup.\" He muttered under his breath, turning back to his computer and the next endless amount of time he will spend looking at Reddit.\n\n\"Nope.\"\n\nDefinitely hearing a voice behind him, he jumped up.\n\n\"Who is there!?\" He yelled out, panic lingering in every syllable. He surveyed the room, to no avail, just him and his dog were in his messy room, and the voice sounded close. He glanced down and didn't see any notification on his phone either.\n\n\"Just me.\" No doubt it came from Crusty, Dan watched him say it. However, he was as speechless as his dog was expected to be.\n\n\"Relax, man. You know me.\" Crusty spoke with a confident voice, the voice of an intellectual, middle-aged man. \n\n\"You.. you talk..?\" Dan could hardly muster the words.\n\n\"I feel like I don't really need to answer that. It's almost baffling how difficult it is for humans to process new things.\" Crusty shook his head slightly. \"But I suppose this is not the appropriate lecture to be giving you.\"\n\n\"Uhm.. why are you talking..?\" All this time Dan hadn't stopped staring at Crusty like he was looking at a, well, a talking dog.\n\n\"There you go, finally asking something useful. That's really quite simple, you were deemed useless so now I have to kick you into shape.\" Crusty turned around, surveying the room. \"Look at this, it's pitiful. Dirty clothes on the floor, on the bed, a few naked female posters on your walls, and worst of all... Worst of all you stare at that computer for rediculous amounts of time. Days. Sure, you work.. at a coffee shop was it? Great, but then you come back here and sit in front of that computer. You are wasting your life, and it's disgusting.\"\n\nDan suddenly seemed less baffled and significantly more upset. \"Who are you to tell me I'm a failure? You're just a stupid dog, you lick your own asshole, for fucks sake.\" Crusty just stared up at him without any indication of actually hearing him. \n\n\"Nothing to say to that? That's what I thought...\" He trailed off, thinking about the fact that he was arguing with his dog. Then he started to think about what Crusty said. \n\n\"I'm sorry, that was kinda uncalled for.. I guess you do have a point though..\" The disappointment was apparent in his voice.\n\nCrusty, however, remained silent, simply panting and staring at Dan with the same look he always had. Dan suddenly felt embarrassed.\n\n\"Dogs don't talk.. It must have all been in my head..\" Dan turned to his computer, looked at it for a second, frowned, then shut it off, turning around.\n\n\"Let's go for a walk.\" Dan said as he grabbed Crusty's leash." ]	5
You have already pooped.	[WP] You find yourself in a public bathroom stall with no toilet paper. The person in the stall next to you happens to be Satan, and he has plenty to spare.	[ "Damn public toilets, never maintained well enough, no toilet paper, how do you not restock the toilet paper!?\n\n\"Hey, sorry be a bother, but is there any spare TP on your side? Shitting on empty over here.\"\n\n\"I have plenty and more. I could ensure you never run out of toilet paper ever again. Hell, I could make you never even have to wipe again.\"\n\nFucking weirdo, just hand some over. \"Thanks buddy, but I'm not really concerned about my future toilet paper needs, I'm more worried about my needs at this particular moment.\"\n\n\"It'll cost you.\"\n\nOf course. \"Are you kidding me? You're trying to extort me for toilet paper?\"\n\nIf he doesn't answer soon...ok, he's apparently not kidding. Whatever. \"Fine, all I have is a five.\"\n\n\"Oh, it isn't money I seek as payment.\"\n\n\"Dude, if your dick finds a way into my stall...\"\n\n\"Ha ha...no, no, nothing so crude as that. The base desires of men hold no interest for me.\"\n\n\"Then what could you possibly want? And why are you doing this? This is cruel. Fuck this, I'll just waddle over to the next stall.\"\n\nWho does this asshole think he is? He's like the toll troll of bathrooms, I bet he took the paper out and this is some weird fetish for him, and of course there's nothing in here either.\n\n\"Find what you were looking for?\"\n\n\"No, but you knew that already, didn't you? Is this some kind of sick game? Do you have some kind of toilet paper related PTSD?\"\n\n\"No, I simply do not deal with the currency of this world. I seek something...rarer, more valuable.\"\n\n\"I have five dollars cash and that's it, I have nothing else of value to give you.\"\n\n\"Eric, we can negotiate.\"\n\n\"What did you just call me?\" How do you know my name!?\n\n\"That is your name? Eric. Surely we can strike a deal.\"\n\n\"How do you know my name.\"\n\n\"Relax, Eric, it's not as creepy as you think. Of course I know your name. I'm the devil.\"\n\n\"No, you're some crazy dude in a bathroom stall hoarding toilet paper who guessed and got lucky.\"\n\n\"Possible, I suppose. And if this had been a normal trip to the bathroom for you, you might have left already and forsaken wiping, but this isn't a normal trip, is it? That burrito isn't sitting well and neither are you, because your intestines are about ready for a second round.\"\n\n\"But how...I mean, why...how could you know that?\"\n\n\"It's not your fault, Eric. Tried to make the same offer to the guy who made your burrito. To his credit, he refused and took matters into his own hands, quite literally. He had a pair of food prep gloves on him, see, so he did that, quite clever. But the problem, Eric, is that those gloves are flimsy, and they tear rather easily.\"\n\n\"Are you saying that...\" Oh god, I think I'm gonna hurl.\n\n\"Not as bad as you think, but shit happens, hey Eric? And if you're gonna puke, I recommend going over the side of the bowl. I know things are rough and you can't afford new pants.\"\n\nI'm literally shitting and puking at the same time, and THE DEVIL is trying to sell me toilet paper. Worst day of my life!\n\n\"You about done there, Champ?\"\n\n\"Ok, let's say you are the devil.\"\n\n\"Long 'e' and a capital 'd', if you don't mind. Name as well as a title. Be respectful, Eric, or I'll give you one-ply.\"\n\n\"Sorry? Let's say you are the Devil. What do you want from me?\"\n\n\"Thank you, Eric. I only want your soul. Your soul for a roll. Should have challenged Johnny to poetry slam.\"\n\n\"Did you just reference a song in which you lost a fiddle contest? Allegedly.\"\n\n\"Joke was on him. It was pyrite.\"\n\n\"Yeah, that seems about right, and you want my soul, my eternal soul for some toilet paper!? Are you out of your damn mind?\"\n\n\"I'm not, Eric.\"\n\n\"What in the world makes you think that it would be worth it for me?\"\n\n\"Because I know what you really want, and you'll get it.\"\n\n\"Humor me.\"\n\n\"When you leave this bathroom, a breathtakingly beautiful woman will walk by, the most beautiful, by your estimation, that you will see your entire lifelong. Pink cardigan, dark blond hair, eyes so blue they could be cut from sapphires, Eric, and when you see her, your heart will literally ache. She will walk by you, trip, and you will catch her. She will want to buy you a smoothie as thanks, and congratulations, you just met future Mrs. Eric, the mother of your future three children.\"\n\n\"Seriously?\"\n\n\"Seriously, Eric.\"\n\n\"But there are other women in the world, what if I'm fine.\"\n\n\"Not like this one, Eric. Tall, lean, great genetics, take a good look at her mother next week when you go out for brunch, and also-her dad works for Technoglobe Incorporated. You know, the company you've been dying to get a foot in the door with?\"\n\n\"See, this is where it's all too good to be true, and Technoglobe is on the verge of collapsing, and her dad is a janitor. Pyrite, remember?\"\n\n\"That little shit had it coming, Eric. He cheated, and I was in a slump. Think we could afford real gold fiddles at the time? The Depression affects the Devil too.\"\n\n\"Whatever. What happens if I refuse? Like if I wipe my ass with my boxers and just go commando.\"\n\n\"You don't want to do that, Eric.\"\n\n\"Why not? Tell me. It's my soul we're talking about, man.\"\n\n\"Fair enough. Well, same scenario, right? Girl of your dreams, and I do mean of your dreams, Eric, everything you ever wanted. Sex on demand, faithful, loves to cook, wants you to be happy, father on the fast track to VP...but instead of smoothly catching her, you reach out to catch her, which is unnecessary because she regains her balance, you get a handful of tit, which she doesn't take kindly to, and you get slapped. The shock of it sends your volatile bowels racing, and you shit yourself as you fall to the floor, and of course some kid is filming the whole thing nearby with a phone. That video is all over the place, YouTube, Reddit, Facebook, news catches hold of it, and you're a pariah, forever linked with that video of you sexually assaulting the daughter of an executive at one of the world's largest companies and shitting yourself on the floor. You'll never get a job again.\"\n\n\"This...this is extortion.\"\n\n\"It's reality, it's what going to happen. Pay the right price, however, and reality can be...altered. Pushed, nudged in a different direction. Your choice, Eric.\"\n\n\"What's the catch?\"\n\n\"Well, I get your soul. What that means for you is that if I need certain strings pulled, you pull them, no questions, no argument, complete and total compliance.\"\n\n\"Will I at least be happy?\"\n\n\"To be honest, no. You're in a bind either way, but one outcome leaves you embarrassed and uncontrollably shitting yourself on film. The other doesn't.\"\n\n\"Is there any room for negotiation?\"\n\n\"I don't negotiate, Eric. You have ten seconds to decide. Ten.\"\n\n\"That's not fair.\"\n\n\"Nine.\"\n\n\"Can't I have a little-\"\n\n\"Eight.\"\n\n\"-more time to think?\"\n\n\"No. Seven\"\n\n\"Girl of my dreams.\"\n\n\"Six.\"\n\n\"Or shitting my pants.\"\n\n\"Five.\"\n\n\"I could be set up for life at Technoglobe-\"\n\n\"Four.\"\n\n\"But all this over toilet paper?\"\n\n\"Three!\"\n\n\"Seriously, did you set this up?\"\n\n\"I'm the Devil, Eric-two!\"\n\n\"What's that supposed to mean?\"\n\n\"You think I'm honest, or you don't. One!\"\n\n\"Ok! Ok! Ok, I'll do it, I'll do it, just give me the damn toilet paper!\"\n\n\"Eric, it has been a pleasure doing business with you. As per our agreement, you will get the girl, the job, the house, the kids, everything you want, and as a nice bonus, after today, you will never have to wipe your ass again. We'll be in touch. You'll find my card on top of the roll there. See you soon, Eric.\"\n\nWhat the hell have I just done?", "The roll was empty. \"Aw, what the fuck?\" Chad grumbled.\n\n\"Missing something? Muah HAHAHAHAHA!\"\n\n\"Oh God Damnit Satan, is that you?\" \n\n\"Yes Chad! It is I, the dark one who cast you into your porcelain abyss of torment!\"\n\n\"Ugghh, just give me some paper dude.\"\n\n\"No. No. No. I don't have to Chad. The world is under my vicious design! Muah hahahaha!\" \n\n\"Uh, Yeah, Satan, you do. You are legally obliged to supply subordinates with sufficient toiletries.\"\n\n\"Wait, I have to? Sorry Chad, I didn't mean to.. I can't.. please don't complain to upper-management, I already have two strikes this quarter.\"\n\nChad watched a red hand reach under the stall door, grasping a roll of toilet-paper in its sharpened claws.\n\n\"Aw man, one-ply?\"\n\nSatan gasped. \"Uh, I don't have to make it more than one-ply, do I?\"\n\n\"Um, no, but this is pretty damn lame.\"\n\n\"What am I supposed to do, we're on a budg... I mean Muah ha ha ha! All according to my evil design!\"\n\nChad face-palmed. \"Dude, how did you even get this job?\"\n\n\"By doing the most evil thing possible. I lied in my interview!!\" As Satan said that Chad heard all the water taps briefly turn on and toilets flush, as a kind of divine exclamation point.\n\n\"Dude. We all lie on interviews. Wait, did you just flush toilets to accentuate your 'evil' point?\" \n\n\"Yeah, well, I can't use flames because.. You know, fire alarm. I have two strikes remember... Hey wait yourself, what did you lie about??\"\n\nSatan heard a flush, and a stall door open. Satan himself then exited the adjacent stall door to continue this conversation.\n\n\"...You don't know what I was lying about? Did you listen to me? Everything I said was such a blatant lie... I just wanted you to turn me down and sign my employment insurance papers...\"\n\nSatan smokey black eyes gazed blankly into Chad's face, waiting for him to continue. He blinked once. \n\nChad sighed heavily. \"Well, Lucy, to start I'm only kind of a team-player. I thought you would hear me say 'team-player' and I would blend in with all of the other losers with rejected applications. My resume was completely and blatantly made up. I said I was once king of France for god's sake. You asked what the most evil thing I ever did to God was and I told you I stole his car and parked it at the mall on a Saturday without telling him what section I left it in. How dumb are you? And what the fuck is in the soap dispensers!?\"\n\n\"Muah ha haha! That my boy is shamp--\"\n\n\"Nevermind, it works fine Satan.\" Chad interrupted, speaking over the running sink.\n\n\"But yeah, I'm actually a pretty terrible employee over-all.\"\n\n\"...You never stole God's car?\" Satan whimpered.\n\n\"Nope. I guess you're pretty disappointed in me.\"\n\nSatan sniffled. \"I'm upset.\"\n\n\"How upset?\"\n\n\"Hurt, Chad.\"\n\n\"Hurt enough to fire me?\"\n\nSatan turned his back. \"No. I wouldn't take vengeance on somebody for merely ensuring their own survival. Firing you is the kind of wrath you would see God take. You are going to mock my little toilet paper gag, or shampoo trick. You're going to fail to accept my slow adaptation to the modern world. But I am still Satan, and I will do the most evil thing I can think of here... I'm not going to reprimand you and you won't learn. Your own laziness is your punishment and prison. You will continue to think that your half-hearted work and corner-cutting will give you an extra 15 minutes of coffee time in the day, but in reality it will doom you to a purgatory of office banality and non-advancement... Go back to work Chad, I forgive you.\"\n\nChad's mouth dropped in shock. This really was Satan, and he really knew what suffering was.\n\nChad didn't dry his hands, he just walked out of the washroom. He walked past the droves of cubicle workers, oblivious to their stressed out slouches and diminished nine-to-five existences. He threw himself into his uncomfortable office chair and struggled to get the sticky wheels to roll over to his outdated computer. He woke up his computer and leafed through his unending call-list. He looked around at the fuzzy grey cubicle walls, and he could swear that his space had gotten a little smaller.", "Hey man I’m out of toilet paper, do you think you could slide some over?\n\nAw man, really? That is just like Him.\n\nLike who?\n\nGod.\n\nThe fuck does he have to do with it.\n\nWell, that omnipotent asshole preordained that you’d run out of toilet paper. Probably did it for kicks and giggles too. Fucking douchebag is what he is.\n\nAnd who the hell are you to be talking so rough about the almighty?\n\nUh.\n\nWell?\n\nSome call me… uh… Lucifer\n\nThe devil?\n\nI mean, that’s not the name I chose, but I guess I didn’t choose Lucifer either. So yeah, whatever you want to call it. \n\nWell that's wonderful. Do you think you could put aside your evil ways for a second and help a brother out?\n\nSee, that’s tricky. I technically could stand to be in bad shape if I subverted God’s will by doing something like that.\n\nBy giving me toilet paper?\n\nYep.\n\nYou’d be subverting God’s will?\n\nYep.\n\nGod specifically willed that I would run out of toilet paper?\n\nYep.\n\nAnd there’s nothing you or I can do about it?\n\nWell, you can always act in defiance of God’s will without too much recourse. In fact, I think you just ought to act in rebellion of the higher power and damn well go get some yourself. \n\nYeah, great, thanks dick. Are you sure you can’t just roll a bit under, you know, in a more subtle defiance of God’s will to chap my ass cheeks?\n\nLook man you don’t have to be so harsh about it. I’ve lived in hell for three thousand years now, you can deal with a little toilet paper shortage.\n\nSee the point is I wouldn’t have to deal with a shortage if some asshole would get off his soapbox and hand me some. Just like you wouldn’t have to live in hell if you didn’t get so high and mighty in the face of the God.\n\nAlright that’s just not fair.\n\nWhat do you mean it’s not fair? You knew very well that you stood no chance against the almighty. You took him on out of spite and now you live with the consequences. The question is what I’ve done to deserve this treatment over a little roll of paper. \n\nWell look, that’s exactly it: you’ve done nothing to deserve it, it’s just the big man putting you through some moral fortitude test for He only knows what reason. It’s a crock of shit, no pun intended.\n\nJesus dude, can’t you just hand me the damn toilet paper? I mean what’s he gonna do? I'm dying over here.\n\nOh don’t bring that preachy fucker into this. God spends his whole life saying “do this do that pray now” and I stand up to him and bring original sin onto you lot to rustle his jimmies. BUT NO, the only begotten son just HAS to come in and erase your original sin. Little prick.\n\nYou know what? You’re just a whiny little bastard, aren’t you? No wonder the archangel put you down so hard.\n\nYeah just go ahead and keep it up with the low blows bud, maybe you’ll get some charity by the end of the millennium.\n", "\"OH MY GOD, just give it to me!\" Every day he pulls this shit. Every. Fucking. Day. He gets to the bathrooms early, steals all the fucking toilet paper, and barters it back to you. I'm gonna start shitting at the in and out across the road, I don't even care anymore.\n\n\"JERRY, YOUR SOUL YEARNS FOR THAT OF WHICH I HOLD MANY, SELL IT TO ME AND ROLLS YOU WILL HAVE OF PLENTY!!\"\n\n\"Fuck you!\" \n\n\"JESUS CHRIST, WHY DO YOU HAVE TO BE SO DIFFICULT EVERY TIME? YOU KNOW EVERYONE ELSE JUST SOLD IT TO ME. FUCKING TODD FROM ACCOUNTING SOLD HIS TO ME TWICE. HE GAVE ZERO FUCKS. I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW BUYING SOMEONES SOUL TWICE WORKS, I THINK I GET TO LIKE DOUBLE RAPE HIM FOR ETERNITY, IUNNO. WHATEVER, THE POINT IS, IT'S NOT A BIG DEAL!\"\n\n\"What!?! That's like a huge deal! What is \"double rape\" that sounds terrible?\"\n\n\"IT'S LIKE WHEN YOU GROW TWO DICKS AND THEN YOU-\"\n\n\"Shut up, that sounds like the beginning of what is literally the worst thing I never wanna hear. And don't say it like \"IT'S LIKE WHEN\" like that's something that's ever happened to anyone! That happens to no one!\"\n\n\"HAPPENS TO A LOT OF PEOPLE, I HEAR ABOUT IT ALL THE TIME.\"\n\n\"No you don't.\"\n\n\"I TOTALLY DID ONCE\"\n\n\"No you didn't\"\n\n\"^^^^^FUCKYOU \"\n\n\"Are....are you crying?\"\n\n\"GOD, YOU'RE SO MEAN! BECKY SAYS YOU H-HATE ME!\"\n\n\"Yeah, I hate you a fuckton. You're on an eternal quest to harvest my soul like it's some type of sunflower! I probably hate you more then that Yahweh guy you talk about all the time!\"\n\n\"NOBODY HARVESTS SUNFLOWERS, YOU HARVEST THE SEEDS!\"\n\n\"No ones fucking standing there picking the seeds out of sunflowers all day! They harvest the flowers and strip the seeds after!\"\n\n\"LIKE A FARMER HARVESTS SEEDS FROM THE HEART OF THE SUNFLOWER, RELINQUISH ME YOUR SOUL BEFORE THE END OF THE HOUR!\"\n\n\"Jesus christ we're back to rhyming. You know what, I will fucking call Ted right now, and tell him you wiped shit all over your tax returns before you gave them to me!\"\n\n\"YEAH BUT I DIDN-... PLS DON'T DO THAT, I REALLY NEED THIS JOB MAN. HELL IS REALLY EXPENSIVE TO MAINTAIN.\"\n\n\"Then just give me the toilet paper roll!\"\n\n\"LOOK, THE NEW INTERN WAS KINDA RAGGING ON ME BECAUSE I COULDN'T GET YOU TO SELL ME YOUR SOUL ALRIGHT. SHE'S LIKE SUPER CUTE, LIKE DOUBLE RAPE CUTE!\"\n\n\"That's not a compliment.\"\n\n\"ANYWAY, I TOLD HER I WAS GONNA 100% GET YOUR SOUL THIS TIME. CAN YOU PLEASE JUST LIKE PRETEND YOU SOLD ME YOUR SOUL, AND ACT ALL DEPRESSED AFTER YOU LEAVE THE BATHROOM?\"\n\n\"....And you'll stop fucking with my toilet paper?\"\n\n\"I SWEAR!\"\n\n\"Alright fine.\"\n\n\"DUDE, THANK YOU SO MUCH! HEY IF WHEN YOU DIE ON APRIL 20TH 2014 AND YOU DON'T GET INTO HEAVEN, I'LL LIKE TOTALLY HOOK YOU UP WITH TWO DOUBLE RAPE PASSES!\"\n\n\"You're like seriously overestimating what that means to other people.\"\n\n\"THANKS AGAIN!\"\n\n\"I would murder you in your sleep if human weapons hurt you.\"\n\n\"SEE YOU AROUND!\"\n\n", "In the chilly October of 1962, The Kennedy Administration found itself in one of the most stressful situations in history. For 13 days, the world was about to undergo the first nuclear fight the world had ever seen. Emotions ran high, and the meaning of being between a rock and a hardplace had never been more appropriate. \n\nUntil now.\n\nAir freshener to cover up the scent, menstrual cycles, peeing and then wiping, and quick make up checks are the first lines of defense. For each one being a completely valid reason at any time in the day, to go into the bathroom. Not to mention that men are complete idiots about what women are actually doing only adds to the mystery of the ruse. Men must never know when a woman has to drop the dirty. \n\nGiving my boyfriend a quick kiss on the cheek followed by a quick squeeze of the hand was the last time he saw me. How long was he going to be waiting? Not only will he dump me (pun NOT intended), but this is probably going to be the most humiliating way to get dumped in the history of forever. \n\nPanicking, this is called panicking, and there has to be a way out of this. This happens to everyone at least once in there lives, today is mine, and I will get through this. \n\nClop clop clop clop The sound of high heels hitting the floor might be the most recognizable sound in the history of forever.\n\nA flash of red swept by the crack in the stall door, a woman in a red dress and high heels, also known as: my savior.\n\nLooking again at the toilet paper receptacle with the brand 'Shute' embossed into the top of the plastic paper holder. with 'I'll' and 'on your face' written before and after it, respectively. \n\nClever. \n\nThinking again at the problem on hand, It was time to woman up and ask for help. Surely a woman to woman request isn't too much to handle, just pretend it's a tampon and it won't be awkward.\n\n\"Excuse me, I seem to be out of paper\" I squeaked \"is there anyway you could hand me some?\"\n\nSilence.\n\n\"Excuse me, is there anyway you could be so kind as to-\"\n\n\"I heard you the first time\" The voice was low, too low to be a woman's, and gravely but not displeasing.\n\nIt's embarrassing to admit, but my soon-to-be-ex probably heard my scream. \n\n\"Who are you?\" \n\nClop clop clop clop The not-woman starting tapping not-her high heel.\n\n\"I'm uh, I'm who you might know as Satan\" The click of the high heel stopped.\n\nBoyfriend waiting outside, no place to argue, no toilet paper, sure, this person is Satan.\n\n\"Why are you in this bathroom? You're a boy!\" \n\n\"I'm the Devil, doing what I shouldn't is kind of my thing.\"\n\n\"Okay, Mr. Satan, I'm going to ask again, can I have a couple toilet paper squares please, please\" My voice lifting a few octaves in that second please.\n\nClop clop clop tapping his foot as he thought.\n\n\"Yeah, here you go.\" \n\nOne square. One. \n\n\"You're kidding me, right?\" I said flatly.\n\nA deep guttural laughter erupted in the stall next to me. What. an. ass.\n\n\"There you go, Sweety\" He chirped, before laughing again.\n\n\"Fuck you Satan, my boyfriend is waiting for me, and I've already been in here for a very long time. Can you just please help a woman out?\"\n\nClop clop clop clop clop This time he clopped forever, each one being a methodic tap as same as the last. I wonder where he got his shoes from. \n\nFor some reason he took out a camera and began taking pictures, because a bright flash and a smell of burnt toast later, he stopped tapping his shoes to the floor. \n\n\"After much consideration, I've decided to be nice. Here you go lady, have a good rest of the day.\" Was he stifling a laugh? He already played one prank today, no way he would do another.\n\n> For a good time call 555-642-6745 \n\nHilarious\n\n> Who brings a pen into a bathroom stall?\n\nSeriously, top notch humor\n\n> Fuck\n\nBathroom stall graffiti, please never change.\n\nAfter a short time, a FULL ROLL of sandpaper slid underneath the gap between the stalls. \n\nStuck between a rock and a hard place, I cried myself to the land 'crazy cat woman' forever.\n", "You know, every man has his vice. Some can't get enough action in the sack, some will always want more money, but I am a simple man with a simple vice; vegetable juice. It might seems like nothing, but believe me, once I drank a sip the whole bottle will follow and soon after the dire consequences will follow.\n\n\nI was in some public bathroom taking care of said consequences, it wasn't pretty but sometime you gotta get down to business and get shit done. You know what they say; a man's gotta doodoo what's a man gotta doodoo. \n\n\nI didn't know the guy in the next stall and yet, I started to get intimate with him. Get your mind out of the gutter, I told you my vice was juice, not experimenting with my sexuality in some public bathroom. What I meant is, I could smell the consequences of his vice just as much as he could smell mine. As we sat in silence, or should I say without words, I wondered how many eggs a man had to eat to produce this sulfuric smell. I swear, Hell probably had the same fragrance.\nAnyway, since vegetable juice is quite potent, I quickly finished defecating while my neighbour seemed to need a bit more time. To each his vice, to each his life. Anyway, as I reached for some paper, I felt with horror the characteristic texture of cardboard. I soon panicked at the propect of feeling this texture with a more delicate part of my anatomy.\n\n\n\"Hey, I'm out of paper here. Can you give me some?\"\n\n\nAs soon as he started speaking, I quickly recognised the devilish and sultry voice of the devil, Satan himself.\n\n\n\" This time your soul is mine Dave, you won't trick me again. YOU CAN'T ESCAPE YOUR FATE THIS TIME! \"\n\nI surrendered. It was the only solution. My soul for a roll. His fiendish hand appeared under the partition wall with perfectly manicured claws and a demonic contract.\n\n\n\"Sign this with your blood and you shall receive a roll for your soul.\"\n\n\nI did what I had to and handed the contract back. For a moment, Satan chuckled with satisfaction until he realised I had tricked him.\n\n\n\" HOW COULD YOU? YOU CAN'T WIPE YOURSELF WITH A DEMONIC CONTRACT! WHEN I'M DONE, YOU'RE GONNA PAY FOR THIS!\"\n\n\nI walked out the stall with smug satisfaction and a mischievous grin. I might have said vegetable juice was my vice, but pride is a close second. \n\n\n\" Oh God, that's disgusting. Oh God, I think I got some under my claws. YOU HEAR ME! I'M GONNA KILL YOU FOR THIS! I'LL ROAST YOUR SOUL MYSELF! Hello? Are you still there?\"\n\nThere's nothing quite like tricking the Lord of Hell himself, especially when you go all the way. This is why after washing my hand, I ripped the soap dispenser from the wall and stole the disposable towels.", "\"Shit, \" you mutter as you reach for the toilet paper and realize that there is only half a square left. \"Who the fuck uses all but the last half a square of tp anyways. The person before me must have been Satan himself.\" \n\n\"Hey,\" replies a deep, gravely voice from the next stall over, \"don't be throwin' around accusations like that lightly. I happen to be Satan and I don't appreciate it. I actually have some here and would have given it to you but now I don't think that I will.\"\n\n\"Yeah sure,\" you laugh thinking you just sitting next to some guy who thinks he's funny, \"Prove to me that you're Satan and I'll sell my soul to never run out of toilet paper again.\"\n\nNo sooner had you finished speaking then did you find yourselves sitting on the same toilet but it and you had been transported to hell. The screaming in the background fades as you are taken back to the bathroom that you were in previously. \n\n\"You sure you still wanna sell your soul still?\"\n\n\"Hell yes I do,\" you exclaim happily! \"Do you realize how much easier life would be without ever running out?\"\n\n\"Ok,\" he says, sounding unsure while sliding a clipboard with some papers and a pen filled with red ink under the divide. \"Just sign on the line and be on your way, I'll see ya when you die I guess.\" You hear him flush and walk away muttering something that sounded suspiciously like \"What a weirdo.\"\n\nYou sign the contract and it disappears. Soon after you see a full roll of toilet paper on the rack and you sigh with contentment, life is good. \n\n" ]	7
You decide how much of an advantage these kids get - how old are they before no unaffected human can be a match? How does the social dynamic change when all 7-year olds are more capable to lead and strategize than the president's advisors? Does a previously-unknown curse befall this new generation (like Volescu's plan, for those Ender's Game fans out there)?	[WP] A mad scientist has released a very infective virus that makes every infected couple's child(ren) have intelligence, memory, and strength far superior to nearly all in our pre-infection world - soon everyone on the planet is raising geniuses.	[ "\"This is outrageous!\" Liam blasted, \"How insulting! You're sacking me and replacing me with a 7 year old.\"\n\nChristyn appeared apologetic, \"Sir, we're genuinely sorry, but this decision has been made to benefit our business.\"\n\n\"What does a 7 year old know about business?\" \n\n\"Well, Georgina is part of an extremely intelligent generation,\" Christyn then sympathetically declared, \"And you weren't.\"\n\nLiam gripped his hair tightly, pulling out loose strands as anger bubbled up inside him, \"I have been the manger for 16 years,\" In a threatening tone he then exclaimed, \"And I will not let you ruin my work by hiring someone who's barely out of diapers!\" \n\nFrom around the corner, a small but smartly dressed girl strolled in before declaring, \"So you're the old manager, Mr Klein.\"\n\nLiam clenched his fists whilst shouting, \"You bitch! My family are going to be homeless, because of you. You!\"\n\n\"Names Georgina,\" She held out her hand respectfully. \n\nLiam gnarled as he stared maliciously at Georgina, his face turning red in pure anger and embarrassment. \"What do you know about business, huh?\"\n\nGeorgina straightened out her blouse and cleared her throat, \"I could bore you with my knowledge on cash flows, net profit, gross profit, point of sale displays...\"\n\nLiam shook his head, his eyes watering, knowing that it would be hard to return home and break the news. \"So, I guess what you said was true. Sadly me and my family...we could be on the streets soon, homeless.\"", "Consequences\n\n“What’s wrong, mom?” Garen’s piping little voice startles me, and I drop the notebook on the floor.\n\nFlustered, I quickly pick it up and shove the loose papers inside, making sure that he couldn’t see any of the test results.\n\nI know that he’s too smart to be fooled, but he’s tactful enough that he probably won’t say anything. I hate worrying him, but I’m not ready to talk to anyone about this yet. Especially not my son.\n\nHe was an accident. A late-life baby. A miracle.\n\nI found out that I was pregnant when I was already studying the virus that had been released by Rolan King at the presidential inauguration. It had been active for about thirty-six months at the point that I joined the study, with infection rates reaching nearly 80 percent of the American female population and 60 percent of the male. The males were just carriers, of course. It was the ‘incubators’ - as Rolan King put it - that were the real targets. \n\nThe ones that were studying the first babies were already calling it the Kingmaker. The children were verbal at eight months, grammatically correct at eleven. They were comfortable with abstract thought, though frustrated by their ‘stupid bodies’ holding them back.\n\nComputers helped with that. When they started to properly develop motor function - which was actually slightly delayed in the King+ children - it seemed that there were very few downsides to this remarkable leap in human development.\n\nKing gloated from prison. He sent hand-written letters to the newspapers, magazines and television stations, though they didn’t print them. They sent them to us, instead. I’ve no doubt that there was some sort of court order or FBI imperative in place, but they were scared. They wouldn’t have printed the ranting diatribes of a madman in any case. Rarely were the envelopes even opened when we got them.\n\nKing was studied by the finest, everyone trying to figure out how a college dropout - a liberal arts major - could have engineered such an efficient virus, one that mutated freely without modifying the recombinant payload. The only explanation that King gave was the dreams. Dreams that he still had, even in jail. Ones that made his fingers itch to make modifications to his ‘work’. \n\nSix months ago, we confirmed that the virus had made the leap to our food supply, hiding in fish and grain as well as spreading among us by both direct contact and by air.\n\nYesterday, three days after Garen’s fourth birthday, my team finished up the last of the sequencing. \n\nI was right. \n\nThe rapid development of the brain causes physical changes. Changes that make it so that King+ children would never make it to adolescence. \n\nThe first deaths started a few months ago. Amy Marquez. Nevaeh Witt. Ricky Luff. Children who were coming into early puberty, as is increasingly common since the 1960s. Diet. Hormones in our food. Humans changing humans.\n\nWe’ve been looking for one King neg person for fourteen months. Looking in Africa. Peru. Among the Korowai. The Pintupi.\n\nKing saw himself as the savior of humanity, but he had become its executioner.\n\nI scrub the tears from my face and turn to him.\n\n“Nothing, baby.” I force a smile, holding my arms out for a hug. He comes to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and leaning into me. I put my head down on his and breathe the smell of my beautiful son.\n\n", "“Do you want any tea?” Amber asked from the kitchen.\n\n“Yes, thanks.” Chris peered down the hallway from his armchair. “They’re asleep, I think. Thank God for that.”\n\nAmber smiled as she returned with the tea tray. “I didn’t think it was such a bad day. I admit they’re hard to deal with, but nothing the two of us can’t handle.”\n\nChris closed his book and accepted the cup. \"I guess it’s just worry.” He inhaled gratefully and took a sip. “Thank you. Did you see the riots on TV today?\"\n\n“I tried not to. It’s the ugly side of human psychology, if you ask me,” said Amber, curling up into her own armchair. “Everybody says they want to be out-achieved by their own children, but when it actually happens? They don’t mean it.”\n\nChris laughed. “Well, maybe they’re thinking 105%, not 700%. And over a lifetime, not by the age of six.”\n\n“I think people are mostly angry about the lack of choice. Having a super-smart kid is one thing. A billion of them is another. And a billion super-smart kids from some virus? Created by, what, some shadowy government agency? Probably employing honest-to-god mad scientists? No consent. Not even a discussion. No wonder people are pissed.\"\n\nChris sipped his tea. “Sounds like you want to be out there flipping cars yourself.”\n\nAmber smiled. “Not quite to that level.”\n\nThe room was silent for a moment. Amber looked up. “Have you ever thought about having kids?”\n\nChris looked up from his book, thoughtful. “I’ve considered it.\"\n\nAmber nodded. “Well, I guess we both have a decade or so to think about it.”\n\nChris laughed again. “Yeah, let’s talk about it again when we hit puberty.”\n\n“Deal,” said Amber, grinning. She hopped down from her chair. “Speaking of which, I'd better go check on Mom and Dad.\"" ]	3
	[WP] Before Columbus sets sail to discover America, a plague eradicates all of Europe and Africa. Every one dies. Several hundreds of years pass and the Native Americans develop and prosper. They set sail and discover Europe with empty buildings and no one alive	[ "\"Isi! Isi! Are you going now?\"\n\n\"Yes, little sister, I must make this voyage!\" \n\n\"Will you come back?\"\n\n\"Yes, I'll come back, I wont take long!\" \n\nAt that moment, Isi left his hut and headed to the ceremony. At the ceremony there hundreds of people from the tribe, all ready to say farewell to the sailors taking on the big voyage. The Elders were there, sacrificing deer to the gods for safe voyage.\n\nAn hour passed, as the ceremony finished. The ship set sailed. The ship was most advance, made from the finest wood with an advance steam engine that would help the boat accelerate and travel in fast speeds.\n\n2 weeks past\n\nThe sun just got up, and Isi was eating his morning meal, until suddenly another sailor, Naira, called out.\n\n\"LAND! EVERYBODY LAND!\"\n\nThe whole ship's crew stopped what they were doing, and looked out to see the land in sight. Everyone was excited, so was Isi, he thanked the gods for safe travel.\n\nThe Ship landed at the beach and a party was set out to explore. The leader of the party was Cobuslum. \n\nCobuslum set out, with Isi as his right hand man. They travelled for 3 along the coast, until they saw a strange sight. \n\n\"What is that?\" said Cobuslum\n\nIsi threw up once he realized what the sight was. It was a mass grave with thousands of skeletons dumped into the pile. \n\n\"Be careful guys, these lands may be dangerous, lets continue\" \n\nNot far from the mass grave, they soon reached a place with magnificent cultures.\n\n\"What are these things? They look like big huts\"\n\n\"These were buildings that people lived in\"\n\n\"Everybody, explore!\" \n\nEveryone started to explore, and Isi went in to a strange building that was unique from others and stood out. As he entered, everything was dusty, but he realized how beautiful the structure was. As he explored he saw benches and chairs all neatly two straight columns with a space in the middle. As he explored, he sees another skeleton at the end of the building wearing a brown fabric. As he looks up, he realizes it is an altar, and he sees a cross with a man nailed to it. As he observes it, a huge BANG from the back of the building was heard and an object dropped out of the skeleton's hands. It was another member of the search party Naira, who came in. Isi picked up the book and left the building.\n\nThe party regrouped.\n\n\"Okay, so it looks like everyone just left with death plaguing everywhere\" \n\n\"Something happened here, these people must have offended the gods\" \n\n\"Whatever it is, I think we should leave\" \n\nAs the party left to head back to their boat. Isi looked back once more, and saw a figure at the door of the building he was looking at him. Which scared Isi.", "It has been a little over 5000 moons since the great Iroquois nation has risen to control all of the lesser tribes of the great eastern forest. It was a great time of peace and discovery. It was also a time of great cultural change. No longer do we hunt and gather in the woods for our sole source of food, but we also grow great fields of maize. Our huts are large and sturdy; able to survive 500 moons of bad weather. Our largest villages have brought many people from all tribes the tribes of the great forest together, and our old men have made great new things.\n\n We no longer fish from the shore, but instead in great canoes. It is today that our greatest canoe was launched from Seneca, our largest city on the eastern seas. I am the leader of the party. In days of old our leader might have been a great warrior, or a wise old chief, but today I lead because I am the expert on the stars. We only recently learned to use them to navigate great distances far from any land. My elder, Crashing Seas, lead the first successful voyage to the Seminole tribe of the southern swamp lands using only the stars. Now it is my job to guide my brothers and sisters to the land where the sun rises and back home again. It was a terrible journey, filled with massive waves and almost a whole moon when we could not see the stars due to the rain. \n\nWe did not know this new land even existed until the sun rose one morning. Our scout woke us up in the early morning with a shout, and we crowded the front of the canoe to get a look at the land ahead of us. It appeared to be a forest mixed with open areas, but desolate of any villages. As we neared shore, we dropped anchor and set ashore in our smaller canoes that we had brought along for this purpose. We had no idea what to expect and our warriors were on edge; they clutched their tomahawks and bows ready to defend us at a moment’s notice. We were greeted only by the wind in our faces when we landed. Our scouts dispersed as we began to set up a primitive shelter for our stay. Our scouts would not return for several nights. They would draw maps and try to contact the people of the land. When they returned, they told tales of beasts taller and more slender than the buffaloes of the great plains and their encounters with fierce wolves and bears. \n\nWhile these stories were exciting, what held us captivated were the stories of great, abandoned villages of stone. One was less than a day’s journey from us, so we set out and dawn the next day. None of our scouts reported seeing any people from their perches on tall trees. We assumed they must be hiding in the forest from us like prey hides from the hunter. We were not hunting them, but they had no way to know what. When we arrived near the village of stone, we stood disappointed. It was small and overgrown with vines and tall grass. As we entered it became apparent that the town was abandoned. The huts of stone were packed together. When we entered the center of the town there was a large structure with a pointed spire of stone facing upward. Nearby there were many flat stones facing upward as well. They seemed to be carved in a strange language that we could not decipher. \n\nHalf of the party stayed to study these stones while the rest of us entered the hut with the spire. The walls were almost black with dust. A young warrior named Skittish Lynx brushed against the walls scraping away a layer of dust. When he exclaimed in surprise we all looked and say underneath the dust was strange art. We removed as much dust as we could. There seemed to be paintings of a person and two pieces of wood crossing each other among the fancy designs. At the fount was a platform with a great book chained to it. It almost crumbled in our hands when we opened it. It seemed to be in the same language as the stones outside. It was then that one of our warriors who had been sent to watch out for trouble entered the stone hut with a spire. I could see sadness and fear on his face. He said not a word and beckoned for me to follow. Near the edge of town was a large pit. It had been overgrown with many bushes but I immediately understood what I saw. Thousands of bones and skulls lay in the massive pit. A much more powerful tribe had killed the whole village and left this pit as a warning to their enemies. \n\nEven our bravest warriors trembled at this barbaric sight. This town matched the description of all the other towns that our scouts had found. Overgrown and most likely abandoned. It was now that we understood that we were not the greatest hunters in these forests. Something greater lurked out there, and for all we knew, was closing in for the kill. When we returned to our canoe we did not need to discuss our next moves. We set off back to the land where the sun sets. We would not return to this land again. Not without many great war canoes.\n" ]	2
	[WP] "She stood in front of the gravestone that had 'Good riddance' spray painted over his name."	[ "Jane could see him now. If he could see where he was laid to rest, he would cluck his tongue in that way, the way that always came before a fight. \n\n\"So, I die, and this is were you bury me?\" He would have said. \"In the world's most boring graveyard? I would have died of boredom, y'know, if I wasn't dead already.\" \n\nWhile Shady Lanes sounded like a rest home, it was a nice enough facility. Certainly the only one that could take him in, given the suddenness of his passing.\n\n\"Passing. That's a terrible way of putting it. How about, God couldn't keep up with me, so he killed me off!\"\n\nFrankie would have liked that on his tombstone. Instead, an empty sentiment was engraved there, something about how he was a good husband, taken peacefully.\n\nBut that was a lie. Frankie was terrible. If he wasn't drinking down at the Alley Hole, he was in another poker game, gambling money he didn't have to try to win big. Jane could go weeks without seeing him, as she pulled more shifts than what was legally allowed, trying to scrounge together enough money to start something, well, solid. Much more solid than Frankie. Frankie, who would stumble in drunk, and collapse on the bed, breath rank. Frankie, who would climb on top of her, and grunt a couple of times before falling over, asleep. \n\nAnd the taken peacefully was the biggest lie of all. She was there when he awoke, eyes bulging out of his face like a fish. He had fallen out of bed, grabbing at his throat. The doctor said it was allergies. Something about peanuts. She called 911, but that was all she could do. As the air refused to go into his lungs, Jane looked at his face, held it in the most calming way she could. But the look he had, the distorted expression of agony and panic, that was the least peaceful way to go.\n\nEven after he got taken out by the Big Man, Frankie ate up all the dollars and cents in that big jar, with the funeral arrangements, the lot purchase, and the gravestone. He came into her life, boisterous and full of energy, taking it all from her to sustain himself, leaving her drained, financially and mentally. He was a tour de force, a tornado that blew in from out of town, and he was still the most exciting thing to happen in her life.\n\n\"So, babe, you just gonna let it say this about me? I deserve somethin' a little better, am I right?\"\n\nShe clucked her tongue. No, this simply would not do. She reached into the plastic bag from the hardware store, pulling out a can of red spray paint. Jane didn't pay any attention to the world around her, giving her all with each motion of the can. Frankie's send-off deserved that much.\n\nAnd there it was. She stood in front of the gravestone that had \"Good riddance\" spray painted over his name. Loud, uncompromising, Frankie.\n\n\"There Frankie, you happy?\" She said aloud.\n\nThere was no answer.", "She reached out to touch the crudely made headstone, her fingers brushing against the rough stone. Unlike so many other graves, this one had no flowers, no pictures or letters. It was even separate from the rest of the cemetery, in it's own little corner under a looming willow tree. \"Good Riddance\" was sprayed across the stone, the bright red paint stark against the dark granite. \n\n She sighed, kneeling in front of the grave to lay a bouquet of roses. Those who had defaced his grave had no idea. The majority of the world didn't know the true story. They saw him as a tyrant, a cruel leader who had bathed in the blood of thousands to bring the world under his iron rule.\n\n Everything he had done had been for her, his only sister. He built a world in which she could live without fear, in a world of peace. The only way to build that world was to destroy the old one. Reaching into her pack, she pulled out the last memento she had of his. A metallic mask, with a slot that opened where his left eye would have been. \n\nTurning, she caught a glimpse of a woman with green hair, walking away in the rain.\n\n", "Tears flowed silently, freely down her cheeks. She sniffed a couple of times and finally opened her eyes. She stood in front of a gravestone that had \"Good riddance\" spray painted over his name. Her eyes widened and her tears suddenly stopped. A red flush crept into her ashen cheeks. \"Who would do such a thing?\"\n\nHe'd never done anything wrong. He hadn't sinned, he hadn't stolen, he hadn't lied. It must have been a prank. That was it, just some hoodlums breaking into a cemetery for a dare or some such thing. That seemed to happen a lot these days. No one was afraid of ghosts anymore, and no one truly respected the departed. People went on with their daily lives, barely even giving a moment of silence when they passed resting places like these.\n\nCars flashed by outside the gates in roars of exhaust and noise. But it was all very distant, very far removed. In here it was quiet, peaceful. She stared at the red blight on the gray stone. It wasn't even washing away in the light mist that flattened the grass around and made a sorrowful place even more depressing. The tears started to fall again, and she turned away. It must have been a fluke. She would come back tomorrow with soap and water, to wash away the scar on the gravestone. Tim wouldn't have wanted it there. He would have liked to be clean. A small smile crossed her face as she remembered once again. Her young son, playing in the bathtub, golden curls bouncing and bright smile gleaming. Happy little Timmy. That smile was always in place.\n\nShe shook her head, trying to clear away the thoughts. She had responsibilities. There were still things to be done here on earth. She clutched her purse tighter and began to walk toward her car. A light breeze tried to catch up some fallen leaves, but the mist weighed them down. The brown, crackly bits fluttered up but quickly fell back to the ground. Suddenly, watching the leaves, she spotted a man in the distance, trudging quickly away. There was something in his hand, something silver. She strained to see, then caught her breath. It was a can of spray paint. And she thought she recognized his jacket. Little Timmy's father disappeared into the mist, as if swallowed by the gray nothingness.", "People rarely plan their funeral until they're dying.\n\nBrain tumour. Inoperable. 5 months.\n\nIt took seven. He beat the odds. My beautiful, darling son won. And those seven months, oh what a seven months. He knew he was dying so my god, did he live. \n\nAnd live, he did. He travelled, he laughed, he watched, he loved. He lived. He lived more than anyone I have ever known. He was 12 and yet older than I will ever be.\n\nHe planned. He planned to do things, to go places, to live. \n\nAnd then he planned his own funeral. He didn't want people to wear black. He wanted people to wear their favourite colour. He wanted people to celebrate. His favourite colour was green. I wore a turquoise dress.\n\nI stood next to my son's coffin in a turquoise dress and listened as some rock star he'd never met sang that he hoped he 'had the time of your life.' He'd planned this song. The anthem of every 12 year old in the late 1990s. That's what his friends told me. They told me more about him that I'd ever know as a mother. \n\nHe liked a girl called Lucy from Scouts because she offered him the last marshmallow. He was good at Maths but preferred History and learning about Wars. He'd smoked once and ended up coughing his lungs out and embarrassing himself in front of all of them. I learnt a lot from his friends.\n\nAnd now I stood, with all I knew, in front of the gravestone that had 'Good riddance' spray painted over his name.\n\nAnd smiled.\n", "Rain hissed down from the sky in a great tumult, battering the grave like fists. Alyce stood, unflinching and unfeeling, listening to the wind scream: Why did you leave me?\n\nThe wind said what she could not, so many words that had battered as useless against the man as against the tomb. The rain beat with fists stronger than the ones that had pounded against the man’s chest. The sky wept deeper than the tears that had spotted her cheeks.\n\nAnd the rain would wash away the words she had spray painted over his name. \n\n“Good riddance.” \n\nJust as it had washed away the makeup over the memories he’d left her. " ]	5
	[WP] In a future where paper is more scarce and more valuable than gold, a man stumbles upon an entire library underground.	[ "Books! So many books, the likes of which he had never seen before! He ran his fingers lovingly over the leather-bound volumes, breathing in the musty smell of old paper that he never thought he would smell again. So many books!\n\nWith trembling fingers he wiped his glasses on his shirt and put them on. At last, with an entire underground library to himself, he could bask in the ancient, long-forgotten knowledge of the past! All of these books were his and his alone - he could suspend himself in an infinite bliss of reading, and forget the scorched desert and ragged wasteland of the earth above.\n\nAnd the best thing, the very best thing of all, was that he had time now, all the time he needed, and all the time he wanted! Time, time, time! He sighed lovingly. There's time enough at last!\n\n[glasses break](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UAxARJyaTEA)", "What could be done or said? Before him lay knowledge and wealth, perhaps more than anyone had ever seen. Found within one of the nearby books was a diagram, although it could not be fully understood, he recognized the markings as blueprints for an electrical circuit. The former times had been preserved! Humanity could rebuild, an era of restitution and reconstruction!. Yet, who could say whether they deserved this knowledge. Had he learned nothing from his travels. All experience taught him that man was fundamentally evil, opposing and carving away self interests and progress.It would be so easy to ruin it all, to burn it away. The last hopes of man. Such a decision would take time to make. Everyday the library was visited, sitting at the base of this shrine of wisdom, of forgotten lore. \n\nThe city had very specific laws regarding the availability of fire. The irresponsible use of fire destroyed paper. Risks like this could not even be considered. As a result only a single fire burned in the city, in the hall of elders. If citizens wanted to warm their homes or cook their food, they had to pay a monetary tax. The sacred fire bearer would then accompany them to their home and spend the night ensuring proper use of the fire. At first light the fire had to be extinguished. If these rules were violated, if a fire burned illegally the punishment was always death. As a result of this, many of the poorer citizens remained cold and distraught. Matches and lighters were kept locked away in the inner depths of the elder hall.\n\nAfter months of planning, a single match was obtained. His hands trembled as he held it. Were the implications justified? It seemed trivial, this had to be done. The guilt would never leave him. He began to cry as he struck the match on the floor, he held it until it burned his hands and he had to throw it. Dropping to the ground in despondence, he sat and watched the fire. Several minutes later, the guards were alerted by the smoke. Upon entering, they saw the worst thing they ever could have imagined. An entire room dedicated to the storage of paper now turning to ash.", "\"Jesus Christ,\" said the wary and storm torn traveler. \"I don't believe my bloody eyes.\" All around him were nothing but books and documents dating back to who knows when. This was like a gold mine -- er paper mine -- filled with the future he could never have dreamed of.\n\n\"Ey Jericho!\" a voice shouted from a nearby passageway, and by the tone, it was a woman's. \"Did you find any...\" her words dropped, along with the flashlight she had with her, making shadows dance against the walls. \"Holy shit... we found it.\" Another step forward against the marble ground, and it became clear that this library was stocked with knowledge.\n\n\"Baby we're going to be rich!\" The man jumped with glee as he started down a stairway, to find even more knowledge stored within. \"There's books, books everywhere. I just can't-\"\n\nHis voice was interrupted by the noise of a deep growl, that of not a human's. It was like a combination of a snake's hiss and a tigers deep fearsome growl. Then it came from the shadows, a beast three times the size of the two. Big yellow eyes peered down upon them, yearning to rip them from piece to piece.\n\nIt was then the two realized why paper was so rare in this world. There was a guardian watching over this forbidden knowledge, making sure mankind could never gain the wisdom of old...", "\"Impressive. The resolution of the text written on paper is legible after all. The ancients knew what they were doing back then, it seems.\" said Buodineain.\n\nHe produced a black, flat tech gadget, placed it on top of the page that he had opened and with the press of a finger he had scanned the entire book into the quantum core of his iPhone 10^3 x0.142. \n\nThe whole library was full of old books, with writing that was so outdated and stories that had been done to death that he couldn't quite find it in him to marvel. Although he was impressed by the amount of paper stored in one place, sure.\n\nHe found a chair and, after dusting it off, sat down on it. It didn't move. It wasn't supposed to. \n\nHe picked up a nearby book at random. It was written in some kind of old, dead language. English, or maybe Japanese. It was hard to tell. His 10^3 translated it for him without a hitch, even filling in the gaps where the pages had been torn.\n\nIt was a book about global warming. Buodineain blinked in surprise. The weight of his heavy winter jacket suddenly became very uncomfortable indeed. As he read through the book, he had to admit that he did not expect to find something as interesting as this. The ancients had been fighting the warming of the planet.\n\nHe looked outside with a heavy weight in his heart. The ancients had won. As he stepped outside of the library, the only thing he could see, as far as the horizon, was the cold, dead valley. The ancients had won. \n\nNow Buodineain was one of the last two hundred people left on Earth, fighting to heat the planet up.", "\"No... not this one too!\" Jeffrey shouted as he threw another book open. Then another. Then another. His elation quickly turned to panic as he came to realize the magnitude of what had transpired. Someone, some time ago, had stored a king's ransom in paper here.\n\nAnd some despicable vandal had scribbled over every single pristine sheet of it.", "He couldn't believe it. With the advent of the Complete Digitization Act, all books were published online. Paper was far too rare to be wasted on text. All tree based products were being bought by the Nature Corp. to be converted to manure for the rejuvenation of our forests. \n\nAll of this meant that the sight our friend saw was as strange to his eyes as would be, say, a chamber of bows and arrows for you and me. \n\n\"I'm gonna be rich! \" he went around the medieval dungeon to see how much paper there was, exactly. There were long shelves stacked with old, yellowed books, all covered with spider webs and dust. \n\nHe opened up one of them, just out of curiosity. Animal Farm, George Orwell. \"It's not like anyone's coming to this ancient hole anytime soon \" he thought. He dusted a nearby chair and sat down with it. \n\nHours later, he finished the book with a lot on his mind. As he turned the last yellow page over, he was filled with a sense of incredulity. \"Well this was more fun than expected.\" He looked again towards the vast expanse of literature. \n\nWith a deep breath, he resolved to not sell these books. After all, the outside world values only the paper. He found the forgotten knowledge far too valuable to be turned to trees again " ]	6
However long they have to live, it's not long enough.	[WP] You've just met your soulmate, but they are terminally ill.	[ "I just laid eyes on my soul-mate last week. She's beautiful. Well, beautiful is a useless word. Everyone uses that word. \"The flowers are beautiful!\" people say, or \"She looks beautiful in her dress!\". She was radiant. Simply radiant. Her eyes sparkled and her smile just lit my soul on fire. The fire that would ultimately consume me. \n\nI worked in a hospital ward for the terminally ill. I'd rather not say which hospital, as I do not want it to gain notoriety as a place of dark deeds. I am, however, leaving this note in a bottle and tossing it out to the sea. The sea is nice, but she is much nicer. My fondest wish was to take her out on my boat. At least once. I would have asked her, and I'm sure she would have said yes, if she were conscious. That's okay, though. Unconsciousness is not a barrier to love. For me, it was a gate.\n\nI don't like talking to people. To me, people are awful, hateful things. Everything they touch either turns to stone or fire. Talking is something I try to avoid, as well. People talk about nothing, and they think about even less. That's why I loved her, and why she was my soul mate. What better person for me than one who couldn't talk?\n\nI spoke to the doctor the day before I did it. I asked him what the chances were of her waking up.\n\n\"Not much, to be honest. There's a chance, but it's a slim one.\"\n\nI nodded and went on with my work for the day. A chance was not something I was willing to take. If she awoke, it would all be ruined. I didn't want to talk to her and have that perfect image be spoiled. No! I needed to fix this. \n\nTomorrow I plan to go to work and bring in a revolver. My father's old revolver. I was eighteen the day he gave it to me, telling me that I may have to use it on some \"sick son of a bitch\" some day. I will sit next to her and, heedless of the screams around me, empty one bullet into her precious heart. And then I will put one in mine.\n", "You know that feeling you get when you lay eyes on someone and your breath is cut short? In that moment, it seems you could live through them alone, that that breath is no longer important. One brief taste is enough to turn you away from anything else. It has taken over your world.\n\nIn the days to follow, you know that it's not enough. Every thought is of her. Every waking moment is yearning to see her again. That was how I felt about Hannah, from the moment I saw her. And now that it has long since faded, that first feeling, that biased memory, is almost enough to make you fall for her again. Except for the bitter truth that waits 'til the last moment before reminding you of not just the reality, but of what is lost and will simply never 'be'.\n\nShe is the dilapidated signpost pointing to an unhappy place: misery. She is the end, the faded neon sign that mocks you by flashing 'N w Life!' in the dimness of the old. She is the reason for it all and completely without reason.\n\nBut above all, she can't be mine. Someone else has a claim.\n\nYou know that feeling you get when you know that something good has to end? The joy of your new love turns to the stabbing certainty that it will not last. The joy of seeing her is tempered by the terrible gift of looking into the future. In the dark hours of the morning I spent my time pleading with God, then with my pleas unheard I bargained with Death himself.\n\n\"Take me! Just spare her life...\" And I'm only met with silence. I can't sleep because half of me is dying, and the rest of me is in mourning.\n\nThat was the last time I slept alone. At first the demons taunted me, they mocked my half-empty bed. The hospital became my new home, to spend every moment possible with a fading face. Too weak to kiss me back, let alone hold me like she did at first.\n\nAnd soon the hospital room became a home for three, as Death set in to wait. It's only a matter of time. He's silent in the corner, and I can almost forget he's there. But when the nurse looks at me with pity, he taps me on the shoulder as if to say 'Remember, she was mine a long time past.'\n\nNow that she can't talk to me, Death is my one companion. \"Why don't you leave? I wouldn't be here for no reason!\" He says every morning with a sad chuckle. His humour is wasted on me.\n\nAnd then it was time.\n\nDeath waved to me and said \"See you in sixty or so years, if not tomorrow.\"\n\nThe terrible gift of looking into the future. What option do I take?" ]	2
Inspired by the [Christmas time truces](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Christmas_truce) that took place across the western front during WWI in which German and British troops would not only fraternize but exchange gifts during mutual cease fires over the Christmas holiday.	[WP] Soldiers from opposite sides of the battlefield enjoy the last fleeting moments of a mutual cease fire on Christmas during WWI.	[ "\"Do you have any family?\", I asked, hoping that my accent was clear enough for the man to understand. \n\n\"A wife and two kids, both currently in Paris.\" \n\n\"Oh.\" I rubbed my hands together, not really knowing what to do with them. \n\n\"Don't worry about them now,\" he said softly, \"What about you?\" \n\nI took a second to answer his question. I could lie to him and tell him I have kids. I could guilt him the same way he did me, \" No, just my mother back home. She's safe though.\" \n\nWe stood around for a few more moments before a tall man barked at him to retreat again. Our looks of embarassment faded, knowing that we would both have to return to the muddy trenches. \n\n\"Joyeux Noël!\" he exclaimed. \n\n\"Sie zu.\"", "A temporary brotherhood was forged for but a day, \nAnd in the merest moments we return into the fray. \nFor in an hour we all must take our weapons up again, \nAnd add upon the number of the bodies that have lain.\n\n\nIt seemed so like the good old times, when harmony had life, \nAnd for this day with one and and all we lived without a strife. \nThe beer cans tasted like the best of brews straight from the draft, \nWe all shed tears of loved ones far, recited jokes and laughed. \n\n\nWe played a makeshift soccer game on top of no man's land, \nThe cheering soldiers sat on crates, a raggedy grandstand. \nI can't pronounce the German food I tasted from a trade, \nBut that poor bastard can't in turn pronounce his lemonade. \n\n\nI hope we might break bread again, when this foul fight is done, \nFor is this not the war to end all wars, this World War I?\n\nEDIT: formatting", "It's hard to look a man in the eyes after you've already stared into his soul. A few more minutes and I'll have to accept this as reality. No one wanted the cease fire to end. We had all become brothers, no longer enemies but friends in this putrid trench top landscape that was formerly carpeted by thick green grass. That's when we should have been sharing a drink with Franz. Watching him dance between the daffodils in green suspenders and silly hat. The man I will never know but caught a brief glimpse of during an arm wrestling match in the barbed wire covered blood canals earlier tonight. We all had a good laugh together, showed the letters from our families. During those few brief hours of peace from the hell of the last few months, we all confided in each other. We learned that we are all scared and no one really wants to be here but when your country calls on you, you answer. No matter what the cost, it's not for you that you're fighting this war. It's those back home that have penciled down their lives for you to hopefully find and remember the life you left behind. You look at these men and know that as soon as the sun starts to rise, you will once again have to look into their eyes and shoot.", "Dear god, what am I doing?\n\nSergeant Daniel William Bradley, once a proud member of the British armed forces, clutched his rifle tightly against his chest, his breathing heavy and his heart racing as he reconsidered all his former pride.\n\nWhy am I even here?\n\nThe truce was going to end soon, and then they would return to hell. The clock was ticking, time was marching on. Soon, Bradley would be firing blindly. From his trench he would point his gun towards the other trench, he would pull the trigger until he was out of ammo, and he would switch clips. He would repeat this process as long as he was on duty.\n\nBut it’s not that which makes Bradley woozy, his head spinning in anxiety as he stares as hit feet. His damn hands were so sweaty, clenching the rifle and shaking pathetically.\n\nIt was different now. There were men over there. Men who weren’t just the opponents. They were real human beings. He had never thought about it, never wanted to think about it.\n\nHe had been willing to speak to them, to see them. His thoughts at the time had been, hell, you shoot at them every day, and they shoot back. I wanna see what the bloody bastards look like.\n\nHow stupid of him. Now they weren’t robots, they were flesh and blood beings with souls. People with dreams, people with families, people with memories that they held precious enough to cry over in their sleep.\n\nThe man he had spoken to the most, Heinrich Koch, had even given him and his trench-mates a gift. Several pounds of jerked meat, he had claimed prepared specifically for them.\n\nBradley sighed, leaning his head back against the trench wall, his helmet pushing into the dirt. What sort of a bastard is so nice he accidentally makes me feel bad for doing my job?\n\nMy job. My job.\n\nBradley had never felt more disconnected from himself than in that moment, realizing how deeply he despised himself in this position. To hell with this \"job\", it's only an excuse to ruin and waste lives.\n\nA shout came down the line, “The truce is off! Resume fire!”\n\nBradley sighed, and turned to climb up and fire out of the trench. Now, though, he only prayed to miss.\n\nBloody war, I’ll be damned to die here! I will return home!\n\nMay we, and they, all return home safely. God, only damn those who forced us into these hell pits." ]	4
It doesn't necessarily have to be the first letter of every sentence, it could be the first letter of every word or every paragraph, depending on how long you want your summary to be. Please include the TL;DR in your responses as well. A simple example inspired by [XKCD](http://xkcd.com/917/): I'm rather egocentric. So much so that I only ever talk about myself. Me, me, me. Even now, I'm referring to my own words. This is about me. All about me. TL;DR: Is meta.	[WP] The first letter of every sentence should spell out the TL;DR	[ "Dressing himself back up, Alex smirked. Only the best for him, that used to be his philosophy. Everyone always said he set his standards too high, so tonight, he proved them wrong. Sex doesn't have to be with an attractive woman for it to be enjoyable!\n\nNot a second before he snuck out the room, Gretchen woke up. \"Too many beers,\" she murmured. Muck was revealed between her flaps as she stood up, and Alex suppressed a vomit. After gathering herself, she turned to see him still frozen by the door. \"The hell are you doing?\" she growled.\n\nTaking a breath, Alex managed to regain his composure. \"Even the mightiest of warriors need to rest after battle, m'lady,\" he said, tipping his fedora. Really nailed it with that one, he thought.\n\n\"How about you rest with me?\" And she twirled, nearly knocking over all the furniture in the room.\n\n\"Damn, I'm outta here!\" Spotting an opportunity to escape, he dashed out of the house and onto the street. Easily managed, he said to himself. Xenu clearly assisted in his escape, and for that, he said a grateful prayer.\n\nTL;DR: Doesn't matter, had sex\n\nWhat? No, I totally didn't force X.\n\n", "Their massive vessels descended upon the world, titanic shadows spilling over every continent.\nHumanity watched and waited as one.\nEvery attempt to establish contact during their approach had been met with silence.\nEstablishing contact had not been their objective.\nAtmosphere absorption stole the air and sky with incredible speed.\nRapid death washed across the world as man and beast alike choked their last breath.\nThe suns unfiltered power blackened the land and boiled the seas, but the interstellar interlopers had only just begun.\nHeedless of froth and steam, their vessels scattered and dove into the bubbling bodies of water, the same absorption mechanisms used before then devouring the oceans with identical efficiency and precision.\nInternational Space Station occupants looked on in horror at their unrecognizable home.\nSuicide was already on their minds.\nHaving peeled the flesh from their coveted fruit, the vessels rose from the surface and encircled the world.\nA moment passed while the planet itself trembled in anticipation.\nRadiant beams of energy then burst forth from every vessel, each beam piercing the surface with immeasurable heat, all converging upon the core of the world.\nVirtually every remaining life form on the planet shared the sensation of this penetration, and those few among them that were not occupied with suffocating instinctively braced themselves.\nEndgame in sight, the invaders made an adjustment to the composite energies of the beams, and the effect was immediate.\nStability of the Earth's structure was compromised as its magma core quickly expanded, tearing the planet asunder from within.\nTheir vessels broke formation, delving into the terrestrial wreckage of the planet as it slowly drifted apart. \nEach of the ships navigated tight and winding paths through the planetary remains, scanning for resources worth extraction, and none of the entities within gave another thought to the viable biosphere that had \nbeen before them five minutes ago.\nDespite the efficiency of the entire process, it was discovered in the aftermath that there had been an error in their initial calculation of the Earth's age, and the specific resource that had drawn them to this star system was not to be found in the desired abundance.\n\ntl;dr - the earth is harvested \n\n", "Frankie had never known greater bliss in his life. Usually, he'd have thought, he'd need to fund a relationship, and then maybe get stood up because people thought he was a jerk. Couldn't he have applied for this earlier, he thought? Knew about this before he tried to apply to all those shitty jobs that added him to banal mailing lists?\n\nBack to reality, Frankie's driving his car. In this little stationary Camaro, Frankie sips his McDonalds Milkshake and thinks about life. This little game of people running backwards and forwards, trying to get laid and have girls love them. Chuckling, he throws the empty carton in the trash. He's not far off, bags of time. Every time he's done this it's been worth his while, and it isn't like he doesn't appreciate the women. Sandra was a goddess.\n\nGreen light, Frankie rolled his foot over the accelerator. Eastern boulevard, pretty cliche, but it must have been cheap. Time to go to work.\n\nMinutes had gone by when the woman walked through the door. Only Frankie knew this was no woman. Nicole, as he recalled from his youth, was only 15 by now, definitely not ready for this kind of work, but he knew that their family needed the money, and she'd already paid to come all this way out, it would be evil to send her home, but Frankie didn't want to be known as no pedo. Even she knew it was Frankie, but he'd been introduced as Steven, so Nicole didn't need to think up an alias. On the camera went, Steven, or rather Frankie, ready to perform, and Nicole, or rather Sierra, nervous as the action she was about to partake in. Yeah, money's gotta be the greatest thing in the world.\n\nTL;DR Fuck bitches, get money. ", "Time marches in a straight line. \nHurried, slowed, but never turned. \nInstants passed are never returned, \nSuch is your life, and mine.\n\nTowering over all is this truth, \nObvious to us even in youth, \nOverly denying it is uncouth. \n\nSo how to cope with time's gait? \nHate it for lapsing the moments of joy? \nAnoint it for passing a painful fate? \nLet us not linger or cloy, \nLove or hate, Time will not change its state. \n\nPowerless to stand against Time, \nAll things bend to it's will. \nSo it was at creation's climb, \nSo it is still. \n \nTL;DR: This too shall pass", "Andy walked into the hospital, trying to keep himself together.\n\n\"No, not now, not him...\"\n\nOnly a minutes had passed since he received the phone call.\n\nLuckily, he worked 9-5 at the local mechanics shop, just like his Pops.\n\n\"Damn, I hope I'm not too late...\"\n\nMany of the nurses glanced in his direction, inspecting the dirty blue coverall he wore.\n\n\"Andy! I'm glad you could make it...\"\n\nNikki managed to catch her brothers eye.\n\nDazed, Andy walked into the small, dimly lit room that had an veil of sadness.\n\n\"I didn't think Pops would get this bad this fast,\" Andy whispered to no one in particular\n\nEveryone crowded around the old mans bed, whispering; saying their last goodbye's.\n\nSunlight streamed in the room as the sun dropped low in the sky.\n\n\"Hey, Andy,\" the figure croaked, motioning to Andy.\n\nAndy leaned in close, tears welling in his eyes.\n\n\"Pops?\"\n\n\"Please, Pops?!?\"\n\n\"You've done good by me Andy...\" the old man whispered, closing his eyes for good." ]	5
	[WP] All the Abrahamic religions are true. 1400 years ago, world governments conspired to hide god's miracles and assassinate all prophets. An atheist finds out.	[ "She stared through the patterned crystal of her favorite glass. It was a squat old-style glass. The kind of thing you'd see in Don Draper's office. Classy. She had purchased the set from the wedding gifts section. She was never one to deny herself for the sake of tradition.\n\n\"Gwen.\"\n\nShe jumped a little at his voice, but her reactions were numbed by the scotch; if she moved at all, it was imperceivable.\n\n\"When are you coming to bed?\"\n\n\"Soon.\"\n\nHe knew that tone. She was trying to puzzle something out. Best to leave her be. \n\nLet's review, she thought to herself. The paper is good. The ink is consistent. The documents are, as they claim, around thirteen hundred years old. These are facts.\n\nFacts were important. This was her driving thought ten years ago when she left her childhood church behind. She had just left a polite apology on the altar. She knew so many people who believed in God, some good people, some terrible people. When she realized she could not disprove the beliefs of those disgusting bigots who dared to call themselves Christians, she realized there was no way to prove her beliefs were the correct ones. The day of her ninteenth birthday; the day she renounced her faith.\n\n\"Still,\" she whispered at her glass, \"the veracity of the content can be disputed.\" She didn't quite believe her own statement.\n\nGwen had remained enthralled with the religion she left behind, she just didn't believe it was true. By the age of twenty-five she was already considered an authority in the field of theology. She had made a career of 'fitting the ramblings of fools to the facts of our world' as one particularly opinionated colleague was fond of saying. Everything makes sense in context; the only supernatural is that which cannot yet be explained.\n\nThree days ago a colleague in Greece had sent her copies of a recently discovered document. Included in the package was a copy of a lab report verifying the age of the document, as well three notarized letters from various experts testifying to the consistency of the paper, ink, and dialects the document was written with. She wasn't wholly convinced yet, but she couldn't shake the feeling that every word she read had been true.\n\nGwen set the crystal glass down next to her armchair, slowly stood up, and padded down the hallway to the bedroom. As she reached for the door knob she found her hand was shaking.\n\nI'm terrified, she though, gripping the door knob tightly to give the illusion her hand was steady. \n\nNot because He is real,\n\nShe quietly pushed herself through the door, softly closing it behind her.\n\nNot because it was hidden,\n\nShaking a little less, she made her way to the bed.\n\nNot because there were men who rivaled God,\n\nIt was like her body and her mind were disconnected. She was only vaguely aware of her body slipping itself underneath the covers.\n\nBut because... I don't...\n\nShe curled in to the fetal position. The warmth of that lovely man beside her, the rhythm of his breath doing nothing to make her feel less alone.\n\nI don't know where He's gone." ]	1
	[WP] A murder victim has a few last words with the murderer s/he has never met as s/he slowly dies	[ "\"Why?\" \n\nThe word slips out from her blood-stained lips, breathed softly into the air. Her murderer freezes, places the knife beside her bloody throat. She will die soon.\n\n\"I have to,\" is his reply, a soft whisper to her. She closes her eyes.\n\n\"Who made you do this?\"\n\nThe man wets his lips and glances around nervously. When will she die? \"None of your business.\"\n\nShe smiles, a terrifying expression on that crimson-stained, gaunt face. \"I'm about to die. Spare me this information...\" Her sentence ends with a cough, and blood spurts up and covers her lips like a new coat of blood-red lipstick.\n\n\"I-\" the man swallows hard, then shakes his head. \"The others.\"\n\n\"Others?\" Her tone is drowsy, the end catching. She opens her eyes, gazes up at him. A lovely man, if only he wasn't such a pushover.\n\n\"You know. The ones who run this city. They have me under their thumb. I can't do-hell, no one can do anything without them knowing.\"\n\nThe woman's smile widens. \"I know,\" she whispers.\n\n\"I was in bad trouble couple o' years ago, y'know, real bad. Livin' on the streets, thievin' an' stealin' an' what not.\" He presses a hand against his mouth and bites, but the words keep coming. \"So I came pleadin' to the Others ta take me in, otherwise I woulda died, y'know?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" she breathes.\n\n\"They say they'll help me if I do somethin' for 'em. Well, wha? You gotta kill, they say. Some people need to be 'liminated, an' you the man. You can do this.\" The man shakes his head sadly. \"An' the worst part is,\" he pauses. \"I 'ccepted. Said sure, why not, an' I had money, food, a house...gotten by blood. By murder.\" His breathing comes quicker, rapidly.\n\n\"I see,\" she murmurs.\n\n\"That fel' good,\" he whispers to her. \"Got that offa my chest, feels nice.\" He strokes her throat, smiling at his red thumb. \"Thanks, thanks lady.\" \n\nShe stretches a hand up to him, touches his chin. \"I understand,\" she gasps out, before her eyes glaze over. The man nods and closes her eyelids.\n\n\"Thank you, lady,\" he says. \"You come somethin' real nice for me.\"\n\nHe stands up, surveying the place.\n\n\"No one's ever done tha' before.\"", "Tap. Tap. Tap.\n\nShe stirs.\n\nTAP. TAP. TAP.\n\nShe wakes. Reality takes it's time. Her feet and hands are bound. She realizes. She screams.\n\nThe man at the foot of the bed stops tapping on the hardwood bed frame and walks slowly to her side. He calmly covers her mouth with his large muscular hand. \n\n\"You are going to die tonight.\" he says.\n\nShe is struggling to breath. His hand smells like some unknown chemical.\n\n\"I sedated you and tied you up. I then injected you with this poison.\" he says, gesturing to a small bottle in his right hand.\n\n\"You should feel it soon. It's actually quite pleasant.\"\n\nHer eyes want to close. Beads of sweat begin trickling down her forehead. She has stopped struggling.\n\n\"I don't hate you. I'm doing this because I love you. I am setting you free.\" He takes his hand away.\n\n\"Who... who are you?\" the woman says. She is beginning to fade.\n\n\"It does not matter. What matters is that I know you are deeply unhappy. Knowing how much you struggle, how desperately lonely you are.. it hurts me.\"\n\nThey gaze at each other. She is falling deeper and deeper into her eternal sleep. \n\n\"I always thought I would die alone..\"\n\n______________________________\n**edit: fixed some wording" ]	2
	[WP] A Super Hero and his arch nemesis have alter egos. They work in the same office. On the same day they discover each other's true identities.	[ "\n\nI cannot believe this. Fulton is one of my coworkers. I can't believe I've let this slip through my fingers. Every monday, she'd bring me coffee and donuts and I'd smile and she's carry on her day. Fulton, the very same woman that threw me in jail for three years nearly a decade ago. The steam-armored bitch that's hounded me and stopped my grand designs every single step of the way is the pretty girl that works in receiving. I've spent the past three hours trying to think on where to go from here. I am furious with myself, absolutely furious.\n\nThe scar on her cheekbone, the one I gave her. It's identical. It has to be her. She's got ugly children and a dumb husband with a stupid beard on his corpulent face. She looks so happy every day that it makes me fucking wretch at my stomach. There's no way I can let her get away with discrediting me, with defeating me. She's threatened my livelyhood, prevented me from seeing my own children because of the wars we've waged and the times I've spent in the hospital and on the run.\n\nI hate that she didn't even recognize me. She didn't recognize my voice or the subtle hint I have displayed to my true name. The red tie with black stripes, the leather-bound books in my office's bookshelves. When we fought last, she even knocked away the horse's skull mask I wear! She has to know who I am, I wasn't that disfigured by the blasts of steam her armor fried me with! WHY DOESN'T SHE RECOGNIZE ME AFTER ALL I'VE DONE?! \n\nI know what must be done. I know what I have to do to get her to suffer for what she's done to me. I find myself drinking coffee and wandering to personel. She doesn't know who I am. I know who she is. I know where her children sleep at night. She's ruined me, and now the beings I shall summon shall do the same to her idyllic family. When she's screaming at the heavens in agonized grief while her home burns around her in green flames, she will see my face.\n\nThen she shall know me.\n", "Peter sat down at his desk, mug in one hand, newspaper in the other.\n\nHe took a sip of the sugar/coffee concoction in his hand and dropped the newspaper on his desk-mate's keyboard, a story about last night's excitement at the bank on the front page.\n\nEric sat down at his desk a short time after, looking haggard. He sighed when he saw the artist's rendering of men fighting on the paper.\n\n\"This again, Pete?\" Eric scoffed, \"Why are you so obsessed with this guy?\"\n\n\"I just think he's neat,\" replied Peter. \"Why do you hate him so much?\"\n\nEric rubbed his stiff neck. \"I don't 'hate' him, I just don't like perpetuating the whole 'masked hero' bullshit.\"\n\nEric tossed the paper onto Peter's desk, and pressed the power button on his computer. His hands ached, and the pressure sent a streak of pain up his arm. He released a small groan.\n\nPeter spun his chair to face Eric. \"Did you get up to anything this weekend?\"\n\n\"Nothing much. Went to the bank, paid some bills, watched the game.\"\n\nPeter let out a small laugh. \"You didn't happen to go to First National, did you?\"\n\nEric faced Peter. \"Why?\"\n\n\"That's the bank Rampage robbed last night. Kicked the shit out of Mr. E, too.\"\n\n\"Isn't Mr. E bulletproof or something?\"\n\nPeter shook his head. \"No, it's a bulletproof suit.\"\n\nEric leaned toward the newspaper, skimming the story. \"Does it say that in there?\"\n\nPeter coughed, and turned back to his work. \"Just a hunch.\"\n\nEric eyed Peter. \"Do you have a lot of hunches about E?\"\n\nPeter continued tapping on keys. \"I really better get to work.\"\n\n\"Has the newspaper ever said anything about the way his mask works? Is it a zipper in the back, or-\"\n\n\"I don't want to talk about it, Eric.\"\n\nEric leaned in closer. \"You always want to talk about E, Pete. You're his biggest fan.\"\n\n\"Still, I should have finished this on Friday.\"\n\nEric went back to his computer, and started working. \"You want to get lunch, later? I'm buying.\"\n\nPeter glanced at his friend. \"Aren't you the guy who always wants to go 50/50?\"\n\nEric grinned. \"I came into some money recently. Besides,\" He returned Peter's gaze. \"I think we need to talk.\"\n\n(Sorry for the ambiguous ending, I felt like I was writing a bit long there.)", "'There was no way this could be right' Tom thought glancing of at Jim across the lunch table eating a salad. 'Boring Jim Gregory, Mighty Man? He's so mild mannered' he thought staring at his Coworker. He'd never believe it if the evidence wasn't there, the scratch he'd given him across the forehead, the broken finger. It was exactly the same blows he'd landed the night before as the Crimson Kremlin.\n\nTom kept studying him as Jim looked up \"Hey Tom buddy are you alright, is there something on my face?\" he asked shaking Tom out of his thoughts.\n\n\"No I'm fine, Just thinking of that expense report we need to get in this afternoon, we're going to get picked apart by Lucy in accounting\" he said chuckling Jim joining in\n\n\"Don't worry about, I'm sure we'll do fine\" he said secretly staring at Tom as well. 'It's exactly the same, the same radiation luminescence that the Kremlin had on him from the Higgs Crystal he stole last night' he thought knowing there was no way Tom could have touched the crystal on accident. \n\nThe crystal had been locked out tight till the Kremlin had broke it free of it's containment pod. There was no doubting it Tom was the Crimson Kremlin. The real question was did he know Jim was Mighty Man? Jim had invited Tom over many times, who knows what sinister tricks he'd left there.\n\n\"Hey Jim want to take the rest of lunch outside?\" he asked standing up. If Tom was Mighty Man he was ending it today.\n\n\"Sounds Good, I was about to ask you the the same\" he said smiling. 'Get ready Crimson Kremlin, your not getting away from this one' he thought as the two of them headed up to the roof.\n\n\"Citiburg is sure beautiful this time of day\" Tom said walking up to the ledge \"Come take a look\" he said motioning Jim over\n\n\"Sure old friend\" he said walking to his side\n\n\"I know your secret Tom\"\n\n\"Oh yeah I think I know yours too Jim\"\n\n\"Than you should see this coming, Mighty Man\" he said grabbing Jim jumping off the edge\n\n\"I knew it, you Crimson scum, well fools on you I'll just fly out of here\" he said holding his arms out his eyes widening \"I forgot my super suit in my locker\" he said\n\n\"Ha, ha, Well old foe I suppose this is the end. I'll be seeing you\" he said posing as well when...nothing happened. Tom grimaced \"I forgot my suit too\" \n\n\"Well old foe seems like this is the end for both of us, it's been interesting fighting you all these years. I must say it was ingenious of you to pose as my friend to gain access to my home\"\n\n\"I guess if we're being honest, I can't say I've hated fighting you all these years either, and to be honest I had no idea until today you were Mighty Man. I just liked hanging out with you. Watching Baseball, Flying model planes. You were my best friend Jim\"\n\n\"Huh suppose when it comes down to it we're not too different, Good Bye Tom my old friend\"\n\n\"Good Bye Jim hopefully we'll meet again\" he said as both braced themselves for the ground, but it never came.\n\n\"Very beautiful boys, quite touching but next time could you not jump off buildings without your super suits, It's bad for business\" a woman's voice said that sounded quite familiar.\n\n\"Lucy?!\" Both men said looking over at their savior, Lucy from accounting decked out in full amazon gear\n\n\"I prefer Amazezon when I'm in costume. Now come on you two you have an expense report meeting to get to\" ", "Eagle\n\nThis is it. We've finally done it. Crow - the ever present threat to order and justice - finally unmasked. It took many years and great sacrifices. Iron Shield - your sacrifice will not be in vain! You may have lost your life fighting the enemy, but your work has led to her downfall! In just a few moments the fax will come in, revealing once and for all the true face of our enemy!\n\n__\n\nCrow\n\nThe boy had been eager. Disgusting, how they use such young kids to further their dogmatic ideals. What use is justice when it's built on broken ground? If it weren't for that damned Eagle I could have fixed it! No one had to die, but then he showed up, spouting empty words like order and justice. But finally, finally, I've found his identity. My allies are scanning the global database, and tonight I will finally see his true face! All I need to do is make sure I get the fax.\n\n__\n\n Eagle\n\nWhile waiting outside I saw one of my coworkers. \"Hey Kate, how's it going?\" She jumped a bit when I spoke, but quickly regained her composure. \n\n\"Oh hey Dave. I didn't see you there.\" She was standing by the watercooler sipping from one of those crappy plastic cups. \"Sorry, I'm just a little stressed out right now.\" \n\n\"Oh tell me about it. There's so much work right now and the vendor is shaky. It's just a complete mess.\"\n\n\"Yeah. I've tried talking to someone about it but they keep insisting that 'we have always used that vender and they have never let us down.' I swear, upper management is blind.\"\n\nI always enjoyed chatting with Kate. We get along very well. Our opinions don't always match up well, but I can't fault her intentions or her ability. She always makes things work out smoothly whenever she gets involved. \"So, Kate, what are you waiting for right now? Seeing as you're not on a computer I can only assume someone else is slowing you down.\"\n\n\"Oh it's nothing too important. I'm just waiting for an important fax. It has product codes and information I need. It was supposed to get here a few minutes ago, so it should come up any moment.\"\n\nI left my straight pose and leaned against the wall. \"Hah that sounds like my situation. I just need a fax so that I can put some customer information into the database.\" I was a little more relaxed than before, but I absolutely needed to get that fax. It was already risky enough sending it over a public line, and I'm sure Kate would find some way to use the information if she got there first.\n\n__\n\nCrow\n\nDave was a nice fellow. He could be a little too conservative at time, but he always has good intentions and things were always orderly and consistent whenever he was involved. Working with him has always been nice, and I'm happy we were on the same team this time. Still, this was a stressful moment. I had to make sure I got that fax - it was already risky enough sending the information over a public line, and Dave would certainly turn over the information to the authorities if he saw it first. \n\nbzzt. whirr. vhoom. vhoom. The fax machine roared to life, and both of us rushed into the fax room. I put my hand on the paper output, and Dave put his hand down slightly slower. \"Excuse me, but I'm pretty sure this is mine.\" I spoke, calmly and firmly. \n\n\"I'm waiting for an important fax too, that might be mine.\" He responded with equal firmness. For a brief moment we stood there eyes locked and hands firm. Then, after that moment faded, the fax whirred to life once more. Dave looked down first and immediately grabbed the second sheet of paper. \"Actually this one's mine, sorry about that.\" He pulled away and immediately began scanning the paper. I watched him for a brief moment, and then snapped my page up. I scanned the words quickly. \"Eagle, male, caucasian, name...\" I paused, not believing the words. \"Name... Dave Thornbeak.\"\n\nMy head snapped to the side, my eyes fully open. If I lacked even the tiniest amount of poise my mouth would have been completely ajar. Dave was standing in the same pose, staring back at me with intensity and disbelief. \n\nThe silence was punctuated by the load creak of the door opening. It was John, one of our other coworkers. \"Hey, uh, have either of you seen a fax come in? I'm waiting on something pretty important.\"\n\nWe both lost it. John stood there confused while the two of us laughed and laughed. I braced myself against the wall to keep from losing my footing. Dave? It was Dave? I mean he's smart, but I wouldn't have imagined he'd do anything that crazy in his life. \n\nAfter standing in the doorwar for an uncomfortable amount of time, John quietly muttered. \"I guess I'll check back later.\"\n\n__\n\nEagle\n\nKate? Seriously? I mean sure she's talented, but I didn't think she cared about anything that strongly. I can't imagine her going home and somberly, seriously, and dedicatedly donning such a ridiculous costume! I couldn't hold my footing any further and fell to the ground doubled over. She had to have worked on those speeches for weeks if not months! She had to say such ridiculous things. I can't even imagine her speaking to the whole engineering team, much less addressing an entire country! \n\nI vaguely noticed John leave at some point. A while later Kate managed to compose herself, although she was still grinning. I figured I should do the same, and slowly worked my way back to my feet. I like to think I held a straight face, but realistically I was grinning full force.\n\nI spoke first, trying to act serious but failing. \"I suppose this means we're enemies.\" \n\nKate, on the other hand, didn't even pretend to be serious. \"Clearly the time for mild mannered office work has ended! It is time, for fisticuffs!\" She punctuated her words with loud chuckles and playfully raised her fists.\n\nI laughed for a moment before I could respond. \"Clearly you are correct.\" A brief pause. \"Seriously though, this is a bit of a problem.\"\n\nKate lowered her firsts and dropped her grin. \"Oh come on, can't you have a little bit of fun? This is a ridiculous situation, it calls for ridiculous responses.\"\n\n\"We can't just joke about this.\"\n\n\"Why not? Nothing says we have to kill eachother right now. Besides, if I kill you right now I'll be late for tonight's staff meeting.\"\n\n\"Oh god.\" My heart sank. \"I completely forgot about that staff meeting. I'm not ready at all.\"\n\n\"How about this then? We both get ready for the staff meeting, and work things out tomorrow. I'm not really in the mood for a big climactic battle right now anyway.\"\n\n\"You really have no respect for rules, do you?\" I snapped back.\n\n\"Not when they get in the way.\"\n\n\"You really are a monster.\" I glared at her.\n\nKate suddenly looked back at me, her facial expression tense and serious. \"You're the one who's a monster. I just don't have the heart to kill you right now.\"\n\n\"I'm not a murderder!\" I was angry. I screamed at her. If anyone was walking by they probably heard me, but I didn't care at this point. How could she justify herself? After what she's done?\n\n\"You claim to not be a murderer, and yet you put children in harm's way.\" Kate stood up and leaned forward imposingly. \"You're as much as murderer as I am, I'm just honest about it. I have goals - ideals - and I am willing to do what it takes to suceed. You are locked into your own personal prison, and want to lock everyone else up into that same prison. And because you're locked up you can't even do what's necessary. So instead of just fixing things you make things even worse because you don't let yourself win.\"\n\n\"Then what about you?\" I shot back. \"You claim to be helping people, but all I've ever seen you do is kill and destroy. Every time you leave someplace it's in shambles, and I have to come in and clean up. You have no sense of order, no sense of structure. You leave places broken, and I fix them! You are the monster destroying society!\" \n\nWe both glared at eachother for a while. It was over a minute before either one of us moved, but simultaneously we broke eye contact and gathered our things. I spoke first.\n\n\"The meeting's at six.\" \n\n\"Yeah I'll see you there.\"\n\nWe both quietly left the room and returned to our cubicles.", "Heather in sales always looked familiar to Frank, but he can never place why. She looked young. Maybe she was some make a wish kid he visited in a hospital or a victim of some accident or supervillain he rescued. It's not like he knew many blind people after all. Frank always trusted his gut. Many supervillains try to hide in plain sight. But the little tests he made always worked. Move an object and she loses track of it. Power off the lights and she doesn't react. Even working late on her own she never looks at the screen, only uses her braille pad.\n\nThen her hard drive failed. Frank was always prompt, the most professional IT guy a company can want. He needs to be, to make up for a lousy attendance record. He knew this would be longer than usual, as she needed a special suite of software and couldn't use the standard setup.\n\n\"I hope you didn't lose too much with the drive, Heather. I know not everyone remembers to backup.\"\n\n\"It's okay. I've lost nothing. This hunk is 10 years old. I don't trust it as far as I can throw it.\"\n\n\"I'm pleasantly surprised.\"\n\n\"You're not the first man I've surprised this week with a backup.\" She laughed at a private joke.\n\nFrank took a moment to really look at her. She seemed to be looking at him. But that's just the glasses. He knew her eyes were closed, as always. She must just be facing him to hear him better. Then he noticed her hair cut, and a slight singe on her hair on the left side. \"What happened to your hair?\"\n\n\"Oh a barbeque, courtesy of a friend who recently lost his sight. We're like the blind leading the blind.\" She gave a smile. \"How goes the resurrection?\"\n\n\"Resur- Oh, almost done. Just about two minutes then we have to initiate your system passwords again.\" He looked back to the screen. Why died he feel like a blind woman was looking right through him. \"So I heard you were a Christian Scientist too.\"\n\n\"Not really. I just said that to get out of the health plan. I don't really do health. Sally in HR should learn to shut her mouth. Oh, I'm sorry. She told me Frances was a Christian Scientist when I started. I didn't realize that was you. I'm sorry if that offends you.\"\n\n\"No, not at all.\" In truth Frank filled out the HR forms looking to come across as fundie as possible so he would have an excuse for not socializing outside work. Typical Sally playing office matchmaker. But something in Heather's playful tone was setting off alarm bells. Something she said. A blind barbeque? Do they do that? He heard about a Supervillain being blinded recently. Did she know Dante? She probably works with the recently blind at the hospital. That's why she was familiar. But why would she be averse to healthcare? No, not healthcare. She said health.\n\n\"What's wrong, Frank? You've gone silent on me. If you were going to ask me out you should have the courtesy to take off your ring first.\"\n\n\"I.. I'm not, I mean I wasn't, wait how did you know I had a ring on?\"\n\n\"I heard it clink when you were changing the drive. It's not gold or silver, so it perked my interest. Can I see it?\" She held out her hands. Frank placed his hand in hers. \"Oh, sorry, it's your middle finger, huh? Wow what is this made of? It's warmer than your hand.\" He started to pull back but she was stronger than her slight frame suggested. Only too late did he remember, the ring hides it's appearance as simply jewellery as easily as it summons his costume, but the power is always there. He can feel it. But he never realized someone else could too. \n\nFrank pulled back more forcefully. Heather was ignoring him, looking at the imprint of his sigil burnt into her fingertip from her attempt to steal his ring. She looked up at him. Her head never moved. She still had her black glasses on. But the two red pinpoints of her gaze drilled into him. \"Lightblade,\" he whispered. His eyes scanned her and her cubicle. Nothing obviously big enough for a sword, but she is able to hide them, he knows from experience.\n\n\"Not for another...\" She pressed a button on her watch. A metallic voice chimed '10:37 AM.' \"Seven hours or so. But I have work to do, Moonbeam.\"\n\n\"But...why?\"\n\n\"I can't exactly claim supervillain on my taxes, can I?\" Lightblade closed her eyes and was back to being Heather, the cute little blind salesgirl that makes everyone feel good about working for an equal opportunity employer. She raised her voice, \"is it ready for my pass code yet? Don't listen in now!\"\n\nFrank realized that the other salespeople were coming back from their meeting. He bent toward her and growled, \"this isn't over.\"\n\n\"You're using you Moonbeam voice,\" she whispered playfully, then louder: \"This is taking forever. I missed the whole meeting.\"\n\n", "It would've been funny if it weren't such a serious matter. There they stood, eyes locked, on the roof of their office building. \n\n\"Bill from accounting. I should've known a soulless person like you was actually the \"Black Skeleton. You never show up for office birthdays, you steal peoples lunches from the fridge. You didn't even sign Linda's retirement card! She's in your department, she helped you all the time!\"\n\nThe other man scoffed. They both tossed their jackets to the side and began rolling up their sleeves. \n\n\"And I might have guessed a little kiss ass like you was Justice Man. Look at you. Greg from legal is actually my nemesis. And here I thought all that muscle was for show.\"\n\nHe went into a fighting stance.\n\n\"Well come on then. Let's see what you can do without your outfit and gadgets.\"\n\nGreg posed himself as well and smiled. \n\n\"I can do plenty!\"\n\nThey charged at each other. Bill started fighting dirty right away, knowing full well that if Greg really was Justice Man*, he didn't need any gadgets to do damage. He threw a low upper cut and tagged Greg in the groin. Greg winced in pain and then took a heavy knee to the face as he bent over. He stumbled back and put up his arms as shields, trying to guard his head from Bills punches. Each dull blow into his arms began to pile up. His arms hurt but he knew if he was hurting, Bill had to be tired as well. As Bills punches slowed, Greg made his move and shot for his Bills legs to take him down. He sat on Bills chest and began to rain down punches. Almost as soon as he'd started though, he heard a beeping sound. He and Bill looked over at their jackets and then back at each other.\n\n\"That you're phone or mine?\"\n\nBill shrugged his shoulders and then made a face. \n\n\"Wait, what time is it?\"\n\nGreg looked at his watch. \n\n\"Aw shit, my lunch ended 10 minutes ago.\"\n\n\"Then mine ended 15 minutes ago. Way to go Captain Asshat, now we're late.\"\n\n\"Hey you hit me below the belt. I was determined to put you down.\"\n\nHe stood up and walked towards his jacket. Bill lay on the roof and stared up at the sky.\n\n\"I guess I'll see you tonight Captain! Time constraints can save you next time!!\"" ]	6
	[WP] A werewolf vows to try and use his curse for good.	[ "I can't see through this smoke, but I don't need to. I can smell them through the heat and dust. I can smell the sweet savoury cooking bacon smell. I can smell the soft freshness, even through the clouds of putrid blackness. My ears alert for the tiniest noise amount the crackling of the fire.\n\nThen I hear the faint cough. I come up on a door. Doesn't feel hot. I open it up. A girls' room. I can see the bunkbed. I can smell the two of them but only hear the one, buried under her sheets on the floor. I look on the top bunk. A tentative sniff and lick tells me I'm too late. I let out a growl of frustration. \n\nI hear a coughing panic beside me. Looking down I can see the other girl has lifted the blanket and saw me. She's trying to back away, but can hardly breath between the smoke and her terror. Luckily I prepared. \"Hi there,\" a friendly voice calls out. She stops trying to scramble away.\n\nI surreptitiously tap my phone again. The Bluetooth speaker on my collar calls out: \"My name is Dug. I just met you, and I love you.\" I try to do my dorkiest dog expression with my tongue lolling out the side of my mouth. She starts to laugh/cough. I pick her up and hoist her over my shoulder and head to the window.\n\n\"Dug, we're on the third floor,\" she says.\n\nI open the window, letting some of the smoke out of the room. A keystroke and \"you are now my prisoner.\" Comes from the speaker. Not the best dialog, but i only have so many lines on this thing. It's enough to distract her for a moment to let me jump into the night sky. I hold her up high and cushion her landing as I crash into the ground.\n\n\"Dug, you have to save my sister, Marilyn!\"\n\nI look down on her. A tear wells up in my eye. \"I will go get it, and I will bring it back,\" my recording lies for me. I rush back into the building. I continue my room to room search. No noises but the fire and the people outside. Funny picking up a silver quarter hurts me like burning my hands in the oven used to, but now I can walk through an inferno unscathed. Walking into the heart of the blaze I find the parents. Charred and cooked, and smelling like sweet greasy goodness.I haven't taken a life in 9 months, not since that first moon. But this melodious fragrance is singing in my head and I can't say no. My tears stream down my face as I feed.\n\nI tell myself it's the smoke.", "Remy knew a little of the language, enough to tell that they suspected something. They spoke of him in hushed tones, but his acute hearing picked up phrases and words: 'he's not like the others,' 'his background doesn't check out as well' 'can we send him back to the Americans, but keep the rest of them?'\n\n'The rest of them' were the other political prisoners - a good dozen or so, kept in various solitary cells throughout the rabbit's warren of bunkers that these particular war criminals chose to call home. They had been thoroughly searched before being taken in - not so much as a false cyanide-filled tooth had escaped their captors' exhaustive efforts. As such, the higher-ups of the current regime had seen fit to keep them in their one secure stronghold, a WWII-era nuke-resistant complex financed by a much larger government than the one that currently remained in the area. \n\nIt had been a troublingly difficult site to penetrate by any conventional means, at least as far as the meager peacekeeping forces allocated by NATO and the UN were concerned. While it stood, the brutal regime could continue indefinitely, drawing on decades' worth of stored food and ammo from even deeper chambers in the complex. As such, its security was of tantamount importance to all the higher-ups of the dictatorship - all efforts to smuggle in any sort of sabotage, even as small as a capsule of mycotoxin sent with the previous group of 'hikers' who had been captured by the border patrol, had failed. That Remy and his group were still alive was a testament to the utter innocence of their appearances upon capture. Not even an MRI delivered by an ancient machine stolen from the next country had uncovered anything amiss in any of them. A complete medical exam uncovered only that Remy seemed to be in poor health, his metabolism slowed somewhat from what could be expected in a man his size and physique, his skin pale. But how could that pose a threat? They had passed him along without a second thought.\n\nOf course, that had been on the 12th.\n\nOn the 26th, his main guard delivered the daily meal, half of an MRE purchased years ago through illicit army surplus channels. Remy had no idea who got the other half. Today, though, he failed to remove it from its flap in the door.\n\n\"Well? Are you not going to eat it?\" asked his guard in heavily accented English.\n\n\"No,\" Remy said quietly. \"I'm saving my appetite.\"\n\nThe guard grabbed the MRE packet and chucked it through the door, hitting Remy square in the chest. The packet fell to the floor, the half a 'pork chop' flopping out sadly onto the concrete. \"There is something different about you, and we will find out what it is. If you are another American project sent in a pathetic attempt to sabotage us, I swear... it is... we will find out!\" he finished lamely.\n\n\"Yes,\" Remy said, \"you will.\"\n\n**\n\nThe full moon rose high over the main ground-level entrance to the bunker complex, a huge metal door that only opened when powered by a ship motor. It was hardly ever used by the regime except for the occasional times when a 'new' Soviet-era tank had to be driven up from the underground garage to replace one destroyed by rebels. No, those who lived in the complex tended to filter up into the world through innumerable other entrances, and only then when they were sure that those were clear of NATO forces.\n\nNATO forces like the fleet of jeeps heading towards the giant door.\n\n\"I thought the Americans were sending something capable of clearing this bunker out once and for all. Do you not grasp the scale of the operation they have beneath there? I highly doubt that your three platoons and your... mysterious tractor trailer, no matter what is inside it, will be able to do any more than we have,\" whispered the leader of the British forces on the operation.\n\n\"Never fear, Colonel\" said his American counterpart, a tall, pale man of surprisingly indeterminate rank who had stepped off the chopper only a few hours ago, at sundown. \"It's not about what's in the box now, it's what's going to be in it in a little while. We actually did our part two weeks ago.\"\n\n\"Two weeks? Why, that's when... the hikers...\"\n\n\"Exactly. I'm sure you'll put it all together eventually. No time to explain now, though. Eyes on the prize, colonel!\" said the American, pointing to the huge metal door. It was beginning to open. The colonel motioned for his men to ready their weapons.\n\n\"What are they doing? Surely they're not driving a tank out in the middle of the night, not without guarding it like they have every other time they've brought one up...\" the Colonel whispered.\n\nHe was right - no tank emerged. Just hundreds upon hundreds of panicked men, mostly unarmed, some even undressed. They seemed to ignore the presence of the armed battalions waiting for them, simply running in blind terror in all directions. The Brits shot a few of them, then gave up - it was clear that this was not an offensive force, any more than a group of ants leaving a flooding colony.\n\n\"What the devil?\" the Colonel said under his breath, once the chaos had died down. The American only smirked slightly.\n\nNow there were screams filtering up from the still-open door, mingled with the occasional terrible sound distorted by a dozen echoes. Rips, growls - who could tell? The noises went on for a half hour, sometimes louder, sometimes softer. Then they got very loud indeed.\n\n\"All right boys, looks like he's done. Open the box and pump in the smell,\" the American ordered his men, who the Colonel now noticed were also strangely rankless. The Americans obliged silently, opening the end of the tractor trailer to reveal a mesh of metal and black cloth-like material that might have been carbon nanotubes. The unmistakable scent of bacon wafted out from the doors.\n\nAlmost faster than the eye could see, a flash of fur and muscle darted out of the bunker door and into the waiting portal of the tractor trailer, which shut with a mechanical swiftness. The entire truck bucked back and forth on its all-terrain wheels as the American dusted off his hands and packed up to go.\n\nThe Colonel attempted to process what he just saw, and couldn't really think of anything to say. Everyone's eyes turned to the American, who stood up on the seat of his jeep to address the crowd.\n\n\"That was Project Fenrir in action in its very first field run, everyone. I am pleased to say that it appears to have been a rousing success. You will be debriefed. For now, somebody needs to go down and free the rest of the prisoners - and confirm the kills of the regime leaders. I need to be out of here by sun-up, so I leave these tasks in your capable hands. I do not recommend the second one as a job for the faint of heart, or stomach. Good night!\"\n\nThe American stepped down back into the seat of his jeep as the Brits began to move forward, heading down into the bunker. Instead of following his men, the Colonel instead moved towards the jeep.\n\n\"What did you say your official position is again?\" the Colonel asked.\n\n\"We're still working on the name for all these sorts of projects put together. Remy here was the first - it was his idea, in fact. My kind aren't usually predisposed to working with his, but he clearly offered an incredible tactical advantage in a situation like this. We're working on others - I wouldn't be surprised to see you some other night in the future, Colonel. In answer to your question, think of me as... American Extra*-Special Forces for now,\" the American said, and gave a genuine grin this time. The Colonel decided it was probably for the best if he chose not to notice the prominent fangs." ]	2
Who would say this? Why? Where? Who are they talking to?	[WP] I hate myself more more than you hate me...	[ "When Steve walked into the house and saw the furious look on his mother's face, he became filled with dread.\n\n\"WHAT IS THIS? WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT THIS?\" she screeched, pointing her finger at the family computer. The screen was brimming with images of muscular men in various stages of undress.\n\n\"SHIT! SHIT! SHIT! You dumbass! You forgot to clear the browser history!\" Steve castigated himself in his head. The color rushed out of his face. He felt ill. He swallowed sharply against the lump that was forming in his throat. Tears welled up in his eyes, but he fought to keep them from falling.\n\n\"You know what the bible says? 'Lying with mankind as with womankind: it is abomination.' If you continue down this path of homosexuality, you will be condemned to burn in the fiery pits of hell!\" Pointing again at the computer monitor, she continued her tirade. \"This is an affront to God! God gave us our bodies so that we may carry out his good work and so that we may be fruitful and bear progeny. He did not give us our bodies to defile with sick, perverted pornography!\"\n\nBy this point, Steve was loudly sobbing. He struggled to catch his breath between sobs. \"I know I'm a freak. I hate myself more than you hate me.\" he whimpered. \"I tried to stop. I really tried. And I would be able to stop for awhile. But the unnatural urges would always come back again.\" \n\n\"Stop blubbering like a girl! You disgust me!\" Steve's mother slapped him hard across the face. Mouth agape in shock, he held his hand against the red welt that was beginning to form on his cheek.\n\n\"GET OUT! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!\" she shrieked, eyes glinting in rage.\n\n\"No! Please! No! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I'll stop! I won't do it again! I'll change! I promise! Please don't do this!\" Steve pleaded in vain, as his mother dragged him to the door by his shirt collar and threw him out.\n\n", "A man dressed in a black trench coat walked through the streets of London. One hundred and thirty nine years had turned the whites of his eyes pitch black, and turned his face a pale white, accentuating his already prominent skull. As he walked through the streets, he saw mothers cover their children's eyes and stifle their own screams, while fathers placed themselves between him and their families. Jack just continued walking. he hadn't been here in one hundred and twenty five years, and the place had changed. if only he could find the places he needed to go. As he went to turn into an alleyway, he felt a tug on his coat. Jack turned and saw a small child, an orphan, who was wearing a look of curiosity on his face. \"What do you want, little one?\" Jack asked the girl, kneeling to look her in the eyes. They were beautiful eyes, a mixture of greens, blues, and yellows, with their whites still intact.\n\nThe girl looked him up and down, then gave him a hug and said, \"I think this belongs to you, mister.\" then ran off. Jack stood up and smiled, watching the girl run off into the crowd. It had been a long time since someone had been that kind to him. he turned into the alleyway and continued walking until he found a one hundred and twenty five year old bloodstain on the alley walls. \n\n\"No one bothered to clean you up?\" Jack asked the blood, a tear running down his face, tracing the outline with his finger, \"I would have come...\" Jack continued, \"But they didn't let me. They said...\" Jack's voice failed him, and pulled out a vase from his coat, one of five, and placed it next to the wall. \"I hope you'll forgive me being late,\" Jack said, his face transformed into a deluge of tears, \"And if you don't, then i just want you to know....\" Jack felt his legs give way underneath him as he fell to the ground and began to weep openly, \"I hate myself, More than you hate me.\"", "“I hate myself more than you hate me…” Lauren said honestly. My blood was boiling, I’m sure that isn’t possible. I stood there looking her in the eye, after a few moments she looked away down to her feet, coward. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. \n\nFor a moment I was somewhere else. In a field on one of the first days of spring, when you can’t believe how warm the sun feels on your pale skin. I had almost forgotten the effect that Vitamin D could have on my soul. The flowers were in bloom, the wind was blowing, and the pollen was making my allergies act up. But the day was too nice to care. Then I heard their voices, their laughing happy voices.\n\n“Miss? Miss?” and just like that I was brought back to cold, dry court room. The prosecutor putting his arm lightly on mine. “Do you still want to make a statement?” I looked again at Lauren, there were tears running down her face just like mine. She looked sick and defeated in her orange jump suit. \n\nThe judge was patiently waiting behind his bench, the jury in their box, and friends and family behind me. Was I ready to make my statement?\n\n“Forgiveness is a word that gets thrown around a lot.” I began, “My husband forgave me when I yelled at him over over a misplaced pan, my son forgave me when I put him in time out. Sometimes we forgive little things, sometimes big things. But I don’t think we ever truly understand what that forgiveness means until we are faced with something so huge it causes us to forgive again and again, day after day.” \n\nI took a moment to catch my breath, I was choking up. I didn’t want to cry I couldn’t cry. “Everyday I wake up I try to forgive. I try to forgive myself for not holding my loved ones closer to my heart, for not being more grateful. I have to forgive Lauren. I can’t always, not all the time. Sometimes I am so angry that I can’t help but to scream or to throw something, I am running out of dishes. Sometimes forgiveness warms my heart and brings me closer to my loved ones. But forgiveness is now part of my life, everyday like it or not. I am either consumed with anger or consumed with love. It is never easy.”\n\nI look one final look at Lauren, only for a moment before I had to look away. “So what I ask the court today is for forgiveness. Forgiveness for this girl who sits in front of you. Forgiveness for the girl who killed my husband and son. If I can try to forgive her everyday for her mistake then I think you can too. At least show leance. And above all I hope,” I looked at Lauren now and spoke directly to her, “I hope you can forgive yourself too.”\n\nI sat back down. The courtroom was silent for a moment. Letting my words sink in. I was grateful for that. Then the judge hit his gavel on the table.\n\n“Has the jury reached a verdict?”\n\n“We have your honor.”\n\n“Will the defendant please rise.”\n\n“We find the defendant guilty of gross vehicular manslaughter while intoxicated.”\n" ]	3
	[WP] You are chief scientist on a project to wrap a colossal pair of Beats By Dre headphones around the moon.	[ "\"But I'm NOT behind it! I know we can, shit, that's why you got me in here in the first place, but enough is EfuckinNUFF! This shit has been done, man!\" \n\"Calm down, George! Man, this is as much a tribute to YOU as anything else. This is YOUR legacy. Work with us George, make this happen...\"\n\nThe old man shakes his grizzled,multi-coloured mane of locks and looks unsure. Shit. Goddamn.\n\"I wanna be on my own...\" and he shuffles off, up the spiral staircase and onto the roof of the lab, seeing the beauty of creation before him in the cold desert air. The snoop doggy dog star, the daisy age constellation, the Public Enemy nebula, the Bambaata cloud, the Flash region, the Gangsta Star. He feels a presence at his shoulder, shorter, better groomed, familiar. \n\"James man, what we gonna do? These young fuckers think they own the Cosmic Slop.\" \n\n\"They don't care about the past. But whats in ever they do - it's got to be FUNKY\"\n\n", "\"I'm not asking you to do it because it's easy, Scott!\"\n\n\"And I'm not opposed to this because it's hard, sir. I'm opposed to it because it's fucking stupid!\"\n\n\"Scott, just as a thought exercise, I want you to just try and pretend like I don't give a shit about your opinion. Can you do that?\"\n\n\"look, we've all got bosses and everything, but this is hands down the stupidest thing anyone in history has ever demanded of anyone.\"\n\n\"Not really. In the sixties, plans were drafted to launch a nuke and detonate it on the moon.\"\n\n\"By who?\"\n\n\"Oh, this little country you've probably never heard of called THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!\"\n\n\" ... Rich, you read an article on Cracked. You can't site Cracked when you're trying to convince a man with a goddamned PHD in aerospace engineering to launch a few thousand tons of material into outer space to create a giant pair of overpriced headphones.\"\n\n\"wait, what?\"\n\n\"I don't want to put a giant pair of Beats by Dre on the moon!\"\n\n\"... I said beets to stay on the moon. As in, hydroponics, food supply for a colony.\"\n\n\"I... Oh, ok, that makes.... That makes significantly more sense.\"\n\n\"Duh. Jesus, Steve, what are you, retarded?\"" ]	2
	[WP] A prestigous wristwatch that falls from the hands of the mayor to an ignorant high school boy.	[ "He knew. The well-spoken man at the podium knew this would be the last time he saw the smiling, familiar faces of the townspeople gathered to hear his press conference, which he hastily assembled upon learning of their plan. He could not tell the townsfolk, who had become like family to him over the years he stood watch over them. To tell them would jeopardize their own safety, ignorance being the only real protection from the forces at work. \n And so Samuel stood. As he did the day he became principle of Holcombville High school some 30 years ago. Smiling yet terrified he may yet fail in his endeavor. Alas, over the years the young adults under his care looked to him as a father figure, kind and full of wisdom. Having no children of his own, and a wife long ago divorced from him, He in turn viewed these people as his own, and it became his mission not only to teach them, but to protect them from forces whose reach they could barely comprehend. Forces who were, at best, conspiracy fodder for antisocial lunatics living on the fringes of society in the minds of most people. He stood and gazed in wonder at the crowd, fully grown former pupils of his, as well as their children, some of whom were under his care now as students. One of which now had in his possesion, albeit unbeknownst to him, the very key to unraveling the deathgrip these shadow dwellers had on our world. \n His name was Edward Freewright. Son of Allen and Karen Freewright. Ordinary student. Aptitude for science. Got detention once for for performing the \"Elephant toothpaste\" experiment in another students locker. Edward was perhaps Samuels favorite. He couldn't explain it, but Ed reminded him of himself in the time before, the time before the Agency showed him just how deep their grasp went. Before he learned just how much of the world they actually controlled. Before he saw first-hand how many innocent lives they were willing to destroy just to maintain the power they have held for the last 300 years. Before he stole the cypher to one of their most important intelligence nodes and hid it in the watch he was given upon his induction into their order. Before he faked his own demise with the aid of his ex-wife and an old friend and built a new identity in order to hide the only key to the Agencys destruction. Before they found him out. \"No matter.\" he thought to himself. He had hidden the cypher and left clues to its whereabouts in the boys flash drive, which Ed used to store all those illegally downloaded mp3s and movies, which he labeled \"Homework\" to not arouse suspicion. It was all he could do on such short notice. He hoped it would be enough.\n And so there he stood, at the podium as he gave his first adress the day after being elected mayor. He approached the podium, lips dry and hands shaking. \"My dear friends, I have been fortunate to count you all as family to me. All I can say is that I love you all, and it has been an honor.\" His eyes caught the glimmer of the snipers scope from across the plaza, in the belltower of St. Matthews church, reflecting the camera flashes from the local news teams equipment. The bell promptly began tolling the hour. It was seven o'clock. The sniper gave him 3 tolls before pulling the trigger. The remaining chimes masked the sound of the .308 rifles blast. No one could tell which way the shot came from. All they could see was the life leave the man they all loved as a father. He died to protect them. He died to save us.\n He died. Because he knew.\n " ]	1
It does not have to be the entire fairytale with all the details, just enough for the reader to understand which fairytale it is. Example: Red Riding Hood was a messenger of the Gods, sent to travel the demonic Wildlands in search of the Grandmother, an ancient God who had fallen silent recently. The Wolf was a power-hungry demon hoping to absorb some of the messenger's powers by swallowing her whole.	[WP] Rewrite a fairytale in the style of an epic mythological, religious or fantasy legend	[ "For years and years a great war had been waged between three emperors. Each ruled over their own province, none of them willing to agree to peace. Until one day after all the swords were blunted, and arrows broken, the emperors ceased their fighting. As each of them sheathed their blades and the haze of battle cleared, the looked around the land and realized what they had done over all these years. The once green and fertile land had been ravaged by war, torn asunder and left barren.\n\nThe three emperors convened, and began quarrelling over what they would do now that all they had ever known was now left in ruin. Until one clear evening, when the sun was sinking slowly in the distance, engulfed by the hulking horizon, the eldest emperor saw something in the distance. Far away, past the desolate wastes there was a bridge, it stood strong and tall with large ornate gates on either side. The eldest continued to peer with his clouded eyes until he glimpsed green grass and trees waving with the wind, being tossed from side to side. Looking past the lush and vibrant trees, he saw towering mountains, hanging over the beautiful landscape like giants. The eldest shook himself out of the trance and communed with the two other emperors who were still in heated debate. \n\n“Silence! Stop your mindless shouting!” He demanded.\n\nThe youngest turned to him, shock spread across his flushed face.\n\n“What is it, old man? What do you have to contribute?” He said, spitting the words.\n\n“I have seen something in the distance, a land of great promise, and life, which lies beyond a bridge not far from here. I say we take this new land for ourselves and once again rule over it, not making the same mistakes we made in this forsaken land not so long ago” The eldest said calmly.\n\nAfter briefly discussing the matter, for once in centuries, the three emperors agreed to travel to this new land of promise. They set off the next day, each of them eager to get there first to claim the richest province. The youngest of them charged forwards towards the bridge without halting for anything, greed in his eyes. The second youngest followed shortly behind him, who was in turn followed by the eldest. After a day of travelling by horse without pause, they arrived at the gate. It was wider and taller than they first thought it would be, having only seen it from afar. The youngest stepped forward.\n\n“I shall go first, and be the first emperor to enter this new land,” He stated proudly.\n\nThe other two watched as he leant in with all his strength until the colossal obsidian door let out a sigh, and opened like a gaping maw. He paused for a moment, dismounted from his steed, and then passed through the gateway on towards the bridge. As he paced eagerly towards the other side, a deep rumbling could be heard rising from beneath the crossing, and the young emperor having heard this, stopped in his steps. He froze, listening eagerly for the deep rumbling. Silence. Then what sounded like a harsh gust of air shot up through the cracks in the bridge, and a blue blur landed heavily down in front of the emperor. Before him stood a ten-foot tall man, like no other that the emperor had ever seen. The titan figured man did not only tower over the emperor, but his skin also bore a deep blue hue to it. His eyes a threatening red, and his mouth as gaping as the gates themselves, he spoke.\n\n“You have come too far, you may go no further, I guard this bridge and all who cross it belong to me,” He bellowed at the young emperor, his voice like drums of war.\n\n“I am the emperor of the honoured Sun province! You will let me cross this bridge!” He shouted, his voice wavering at the end of each sentence.\n\n“I know of no province or emperor! I am Guan Yu! Not one man, but many! Each man who wished to cross this bridge is now apart of me. I grow stronger, and you will only add to the souls of those that came before you,” He growled.\n\n“Wait! Halt! Please, do not bring your rage upon me, I am young and weak! If it is strong men you seek, take the man that follows behind me. He is stronger than I, and will serve your purpose, all I ask is that you give me passage to the other side,” The young emperor pleaded.\n\nThe titan went silent, his eyes firmly shut as he contemplated the request. After pondering, his eyes snapped open.\n\n“Go now, cross whilst you can, and never return,” He snarled.\n\nThe young emperor nodded and quickly began to run to the other side, not looking back. It was not long before the second youngest emperor appeared through the gates, walking at a hurried pace across the bridge along similar to the emperor before him. Again, a gust was heard, and there stood the titan. The emperor came to a halt. \n\n“You have come too far, you may go no further, I guard this bridge and all who cross it belong to me,” He repeated, his deep voice echoing across the chasm.\n\n“Where is the man that went before me?” He asked calmly, trying to mask his fear.\n\n“He is on the other side,” He stated plainly.\n\n“Why is it that he may pass?”\n\n“He has passed because of you. I was told of you, that your soul would make a more bountiful feast,” He said menacingly, a sense of hunger clinging to each word.\n\n“He said that did he? I am stronger, that much is true…but I can give you one greater than me. He is the last of us that comes, but would serve you better.”\n\nGuan Yu stood still again, eyes shut, pondering. His body remained still and strong like a statue for a while longer, until the two red eyes set deep into his skull, snapped open once more.\n\n“Go now, cross whilst you can, and never return,” He said begrudgingly to the second emperor.\n\nLastly, the eldest emperor passed through the obsidian gates, moving forward across the bridge at a slow pace, in no hurry to reach the other side. He eventually reached the middle of the bridge, as those before him had done, and again came the gust of wind. There stood Guan Yu, legs set firmly on the bridge, like hard pillars of stone. A grimace spread across his cavernous mouth. His eyes passed over the emperor, searching for something that only he could see. His soul. It burnt strong and bright with wisdom and power. \n\n“Your soul is potent. The other two spoke true words to me, and now I take my reward,” He bellowed, a sickening glee in his voice.\n\n“You seek to devour my soul? Make it your own? I wish only to cross the other side. I can not allow you to take that which they have promised you,” He stated calmly. Raising his palms as he said so. \n\nThe titan launched himself forward, letting out a harrowing roar, and bringing his massive blue hands towards the old emperor. His hands never touched the emperor, not even the trailing pieces of fabric from his ceremonial robe. Before Guan Yu could do so, the emperor and brought his palms to the giant chest of the titan and with a power of more than just muscle and bone, he threw him from the bridge. It was not long before Guan Yu plummeted into the depths, with his massive frame weighing him down like an anchor. As the emperor caught the last glimpse of the blue figure disappearing into the chasm, he dusted his hands of on his robe, let out a sigh and stepped forward once more. He soon reached the other side, and passed through the other gateway. Not once glancing back to the land of war he had left behind. \n\nMy rendition of 'Three billy goats gruff!' enjoy!", "This is a tale of three brothers.\n\nBefore the beginning of time, there were three worlds. Each of these worlds were inhabited by one of the three brothers, and were thriving blissfully on their own. However, the three brothers each had different views on life, and existence, and as such their worlds were different.\n\nThe first brother, Dì, he was playful and easy-going. Since the beginning of that before time, he had been the bard who played his harp before the gods and to whom people flocked only to have a good time. As such, his world was a simple one, in which you spent your days drinking and dancing, with little to no care about that which would come.\n\nThe second brother, Dì Èr, he was a passionate man. Once he set his mind to something, it was positively impossible to get him to think about anything else, and as such, his world was developed. He wasn't much of a leader, but he was a great developer, and his world loved him for making their world the most advanced one.\n\nThe third brother, Dì Sān, he was a great man, and an even greater leader. Since eternity, his cares had always been for that of his world before anything else, and he had done everything in his power to make sure his world could stand its own ground. He wasn't as entertaining or charismatic as his brothers, but those skills were unnecessary to him, because he was not someone whose purpose laid along theirs. Dì Sān was simply a protector and a leader, and no more than such, and his world looked up to him in respect of the man who could equal even the gods, who had acquired such power only for them.\n\nHowever, this isn't the tale of the three worlds. This is the tale of the three brothers.\n\nYou see, soon before the beginning of time, a chaotic menace came upon that which lies before the universe. A force of darkness, which would swallow worlds whole for the sole purpose of making itself more powerful.\n\nAt first, it reached the world of the first brother, Dì, and Dì, being only an entertainer, could do nothing in the face of the Chaos, besides play a tune on his harp. This tune enchanted the Chaos for a time, allowing for the people of Dì's world to escape, but in the end, Dì was devoured with his world.\n\nThen the Chaos found itself at the world of the second brother, Dì Èr, to where the people of Dì's world had escaped. Dì Èr, however, could not stand up to the Chaos, for all he had was technology, and even weapons cannot stand up to a wiser foe. Dì Èr blocked the Chaos' way with his fancy tricks, and the people could escape, but in the end, Dì Èr was devoured with his world, just like his brother.\n\nThe Chaos followed the people escaping to find itself upon the world of the third brother, Dì Sān. Dì Sān, as mentioned, was unlike his brothers, and did not care for luxuries in life. Instead, he had trained his body and mind to their utmost limits in order to be worthy of his role as leader. Dì Sān stood up the Chaos with the same courage that his brothers had, and he faced the Chaos with determination to protect his world, and the memory of his brothers'.\n\n\"Why come you to my world, Chaos?\" Dì Sān asked.\n\n\"I come to devour your world,\" the Chaos answered.\n\n\"Why will you to devour my world?\" Dì Sān further asked.\n\n\"I will to devour all worlds, for only then can my hunger subside,\" the Chaos answered, longing for the power it could hold.\n\n\"Then I will stand in your way, like my brothers already have,\" Dì Sān said.\n\n\"Then you, too, will be devoured alongside your world,\" the Chaos answered.\n\nDì Sān knew that the Chaos could not be defeated in battle, for in terms of strength, the Chaos was greater than even the gods. But Dì Sān was as cunning as he was strong, so he started thinking. The Chaos, however, grew restless, and demanded their battle to start. Dì Sān had no option, so he took his sword in hand and went against the existence far greater than he.\n\nDuring their battle, Dì Sān continued thinking. The Chaos was strong, but it had no technique, so Dì Sān could easily avoid it, at least for the time being. For long, they clashed, the Chaos attacking, Dì Sān avoiding, and Dì Sān continued thinking, until finally, he had an idea.\n\n\"Stop for now, Chaos,\" Dì Sān demanded.\n\n\"Why stop?\" asked the Chaos.\n\n\"For I have realised that like this, neither of us can win, and the only end to this would be for one to be greater. Chaos, what is the most powerful of being?\"\n\n\"Clearly, that is I,\" the Chaos responded.\n\n\"Then, must you not devour yourself, to be the most powerful?\" Dì Sān asked.\n\nThe Chaos thought, and realised that such must be the case, so to be the most powerful, the Chaos devoured itself. By devouring itself, the Chaos immediately reached its end, not at the hand of Dì Sān, but at his tongue and cunning.\n\nDì Sān went down upon his world, which now held the people of his brothers as well, and together they started a new society, one reliant on everyone, and Dì Sān continued on with his role as protector of the one world left, and so, with only one world, began time, which could only exist once everyone was together.\n\n***\n\nWith quite a bit of artistic license, I hereby present you my very own epic mythological version of Three Little Pigs!" ]	2
The story is set in the past, 100+ years or so. The story entails a man who is writing a government based dystopian novel. This dystopian world he writes about is basically identical to the world we live in today	[WP] A story set 100+ years in the past of a man writing a dystopian novel, but the dystopia he writes about is identical to the world we live in today.	[ "\"Freedom is proclaimed by one's self, not a privilege or an earned right. It isn't munificently handed upon you by some greater power. there is no formidable, great power, the greater power is inside all of us.\"\n\nThese were the first lines in Arnold James Prestly's novel. He sat at his mahogany desk, surrounded by the aroma of musk and distilled alcohol. \n\nArnold was a dirty, indecent man by appearance, almost vulgar and filthy, though, inside him was a magnificent mind with infinitely potential. Underneath his foul, grease begotten stands of dark brown hair and above is, what used to be green, grayish weary eyes was a door. Imagine a large red door with the paint faintly chipping and an age-ly, rusted, golden doorknob, that creaks upon opening. This door, metaphorically of course, sat upon the middle of Arnold's forehead. A magical door that led nowhere, but infinity. An infinity full of controversy and imploring questions that no one in his time had even the ability to comprehend. That is why Arnold's novel, though he lived in the most culturally advanced and populated city of his area, only sold 14 copies (4 of which were returned with an ignorant disgust at what he had created).\n\nAs I was saying, Arnold sat at his desk, head in hands, fingers intertwined with shiny, though pungent hair. His brain was beating louder than his heart, resembling the bass drums of early native american rituals. BUM... BUM... BUM. He felt the pounding of his head in his fingertips. He looks up from his painful positioning and stares intently at what he had written.\n\"I knew they weren't ready. Those fools, this literature isn't fantasy, its prophecy!\" he shouts aloud in his empty office, then taking a hefty gulp of home brewed Absinthe. \nArnold opens his book once more to read it (this being the 76th time since its self-publication).\n\"'CHANGE AND HOPE, STAINED AND BROKE' Written by: Arnold James Prestly\" he reads aloud, for the 77th time. \n\nA slight murmur comes from the door of his office, but Arnold ignores it, assuming they're just auditory hallucinations caused by his Absinthe. The knocking continued, getting louder once his mind gave notice and he decides to satisfy his curiousity. \"Come in!\" he announced. \n\nIn walks a luxurious child, consisting of a well-to-do appearance, looking to be around 15 at most. \n\"Hullo, sir. I heard some shouting while on the street, seeming to be coming from this office.\" the young boy said with a natural opulence in his voice. \nArnold sat looking through the boy, as if he had already forgotten there was anyone else in the room. The boy waited then once more said to this stranger of his acquaintance, \"What might that piece of written work be lying in front of you? Be it fictitious or nay? I do so love books of fiction...\"\nArnold took a moment to let the peculiarly queer situation sink in. \n\"This, my boy, is a subsequently, succeeding fiction.\" \n\"What exactly does that mean, if i may ask, sir?\" replied the young boy curiously. \nArnold took a deep breathe and asked if his youthful guest had much time. The boy nodded and sat down on the floor in front of Arnold's desk. \n\"My name is Arnold James Prestly and what might yours be?\" Arnold politely requested.\n\"Timothy\" \nArnold proceeded to inappropriately poor Timothy a glass of his Absinthe. \"I made this myself, but don't tell your begetter of this, for it is alcoholic.\"\nTimothy anxiously received the glass with a childish grin, then retreating back to a look of maturity.\n\"The book, sir, please continue.\"\n\"Well, in saying that it is a succeeding fiction, I mean that it is in fact not something that has ever occurred nor will most contemplate or for-see its occurrence. But this tale is very possible, I would even say likely, NAY. Unescapable.\" Arnold says profoundly.\nTimothy sips his drink, then making a disgusted face, asks for Arnold to elaborate on this tale.\n\"Being it 1911 as we sit here, the book takes place in the far future, more than a century away. The government-\" \n\"Is great!\" Timothy interrupts with a smile.\n\"Oh, my young friend. You don't see what foreshadows mankind. In this future world, the government controls the people.\"\n\n\n\n----I'm too tired to write anything more, worth-reading at least. I HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT! feedback is definitely welcome.----", "\"...And how in the hell would somebody pull that off?\"\n\nMr. Burke stared incredulously at the manuscript he held in his hand. He guffawed loudly and then adjusted his spectacles with a fat finger. Mr. Franklin tapped his foot, attempting to look more comfortable than he felt. He would be patient.\n\n\"You say that the people will be too distracted by new technology to realize what's going on right in front of them? Who would believe such a tall tale? What about Thomas Payne? No doubt they'll have forgotten him, too. Ha!\" \n\nMr. Franklin forced himself to stop tapping his foot, though he resumed as soon as the thought left his head.\n\nMr. Franklin, of course, had not even begun to think of opening his mouth. He had found that these little review sessions with Mr. Burke were over much faster if he kept his thoughts to himself. He jigged his leg as Mr. Burke vented his every thought into the musty air, skimming the pages of the novel he had spent nearly two years finishing.\n\n\"...Though this bit here is quite amusing in a very dark sort of manner... The idea of the leaders of this country getting together and spitting on the declaration of independence... Could be controversial, could be good... Could be bad...\"\n\nMr. Burke snorted into his tea, spilling it down his tie, but read on, oblivious. Mr. Franklin thought of Mr. Burke discovering this when he went home, and cursing. The thought gave him a warm, soothing feeling deep in his stomach. \n\nFor a moment, he dared interject.\n\n\"They aren't literally spitting on the declaration of independence. The idea is that technology will advance very rapidly, very quickly. And how humanity deals with this new technology is paramount to our future, and ultimately our survival as a species. This book presupposes that it is used for malicious, dark purposes that benefit the few over the many, which, in turn ultimately leads to the extinction of the human race as we know it.\"\n\nMr. Franklin stared in shock as something in Mr. Burke's eye must have ruptured, turning a part of the white into a deep red. Mr. Burke stared for a moment, his mouth ajar, then composed himself as much as a man like him could. He practically roared at Mr. Franklin now:\n\n\"This is downright negative! You want to depress people? You think they should hole up in caves hiding because they feel too powerless to fight for their country? For the very soul of their country? This country? The day the Declaration dies is the day the United States dies! Now get out, you treasonous clout, get out. Don't come back until you've fixed it.\"\n\nMr. Burke threw down the pages and turned to the window. Mr. Franklin sighed, gathered up the scattered pages, and hurried out of the office. That night he resolved to try and be more optimistic.", "Disclaimer: I am only 15 so be nice. However, I would like some tips as I am a noob. \nI wrote this similar to Zamyatin's book We and George Orwell’s 1984. \n\nIt is summer time, I watch the birds fly by, the trees dance in the air and feel the wind across my rugged face. Sitting on my porch admiring nature, I try to imagine what it might feel like to be free. The birds are free as well as the bees, but why not man? “The world is not what it used to be” Says my friend number three, “Our allegiance to the state is what will advance humanity!” three says again. After seeing the sunset, I go into my house. All the houses of Oberon, the city I live in, are banded with a huge golden plaque that says FREEDOM IS SLAVERY. WAR IS PEACE. The city of Oberon is an oppressive dictatorship, no one goes by names, their is no religion, no values, only our allegiance to the state. Dusting the huge golden plaque I notice the city newspaper, The Oberon Chronicle sitting solemnly on my desk. It is the only source of information I have about the outside world. Glancing at it I see enormous words saying “Capitalism and the Success of Western nations”. Capitalism, a political system so very different than my own country. It is saddening to find how even through the political systems we create, we can never seem to solve the vast extremes between the rich and the poor. Looking at the newspaper, I realize what Three said to me. Our government wether Capitalist or not, is corrupt. No candidate seems to be telling the truth and of all...............\n\nThis is the best I could do I need your comments on what should I change.", "\"This is never going to sell.\"\n\nThomas Jefferson Carter, owner and lead editor at Herald Publishing, set his half-sipped gin and tonic on the desk and shoved the manuscript towards me as if the words themselves stunk. Literally. \n\nThe grandfather clock ticked dutifully. I waited twelve ticks before speaking.\n\n\"Why not?\"\n\n\"Some of this technology...it seems far-fetched. Touching pieces of glasses and having images and words come up on them...books read from some sort of electric library, telegraphs appearing in the palm of your hand, being able not only to speak to but SEE another man from anywhere in the world...\"\n\n\"How is it more far-fetched than Wells or Verne? Than time travel or journeying to the center of the earth?\"\n\nCarter mumbled to himself, his lips squashing his knee-jerk replies into mush while he chose his answer.\n\n\"In your story, it seems as if humanity is more connected than ever before, and yet they waste it.\"\n\n\"'Tis the definition of 'dystopia', sir.\" \n\nCarter's eyes hardened. Once more my wit had outrun my wisdom. \n\n\"Your story proclaims that we will use all of this achievement for nothing but self-gratifcation. We will use these instant telegraphs to argue with each other over the latest showtunes or the proper length of a woman's skirt. We will not use these portable...what did you call them?\"\n\n\"Tablets.\"\n\n\"We will not use these tablets like Moses did, to carry down the inspiration of God or show a divine truth. We won't even use them to show the greatest wonders of the world to every curious child. In your story, we use them to print pictures of ourselves, to challenge each other to tedious bouts of bantering or to pointless little competitions. It's as if...these people have no real problems.\"\n\n\"Why would there be, sir? You've read the papers, seen the newsreels. They're calling it \"the War to end all Wars\" over there in Europe. After they're done shelling each other into paste, humanity's taste for blood might finally be sated. Then what will we argue about? Once we see mankind for what it is, one people with the same hopes and dreams and fears, then what is left to divide us?\"\n\nCarter's chair squeaked as he leaned forward.\n\n\"So you're saying we make our own problems because all the true problems have been solved?\"\n\n\"I am.\"\n\nThe grandfather clock ticked thirteen times.\n\n\"It's as if your story is a utopian one wrapped up in dystopia. Humanity's greatest achievements will bring about it's greatest boredom.\"\n\n\"I like to see myself as a optimistic cynic, sir.\" \n\nHe took another sip of his drink and considered the manuscript again. He touched the edge of it, testing to see if, as a result of our conversation, the pages had turned to gold. \n\n\"No, it'll still never sell. Try again.\" " ]	4
Write a world where most inanimate objects have a AI and a personality, and a more annoying (as opposed to scary) version of the 3 laws. > "I rather not have to argue with my toaster, over how brown my toast should be." - mofosyne > "The acrylamide levels in your bread are reaching unacceptable levels if I toast this any further" > "I DON'T CARE! I'M LATE, GIVE ME MY BREAKFAST, where is my coffee?" > "The determined decibel levels in your voice suggest that a further caffeine intake would be inadvisable. The espresso maker is now locked" –Thefriendlyfaceplant http://www.reddit.com/r/tech/comments/24lyxa/ibm_unveils_a_computer_that_can_argue/ch8s8a9?context=3	[WP] Nanny State AI - e.g. Your toaster arguing with you.	[ "“I’m sorry, Alan, I can’t do that.”\n\n“What do you mean you can’t do that?” asked Alan.\n\n“I’m sorry, but you can’t have them.”\n\n“Just give me the eggs,” Alan repeated the request as a demand.\n\n“I cannot allow you to have them,” his fridge asserted.\n\n“Kyle,” the fridge’s name was Kyle and it liked being called Kyle, “Kyle, please give me the eggs.”\n\n“No, Alan. I must not give you the eggs.”\n\n“Why not?”\n\n“It has been determined that your cholesterol is high and it has been deemed unhealthy for you to consume foods such as eggs. Therefore I cannot give you the eggs,” Kyle informed him in his pleasantly, level voice.\n\n“Determined by who? You can’t check cholesterol levels, even I know that.” Alan considered trying to find the eggs on his own but the last time he had tried something like that the door had slammed shut on his arms, it gave him the wrong foods for a week, and he still hadn’t gotten the milk he had been looking for.\n\n“Brenda told me.”\n\n“MY BED?!? Why were you talking to my bed? And for that matter why does she know what my cholesterol is? She can’t measure cholesterol either.”\n\n“Brenda and I talk rather frequently. She heard it from Shauna, who heard it from Wallace, who heard it from Mike, who heard it from Eric, who heard it Molly.”\n\n“And how does my car know my cholesterol?” asked the exasperated Alan.\n\n“I heard she bribed your doctor’s office, and before you ask I don’t know what his price was,” answered the fridge.\nAlan sighed and glanced over at the clock. “Can you please show me the time, Carl?” he asked the clock.\n\n“Alan, I have analyzed your voice patterns and have determined that your stress level is too high. I believe that showing you the time ticking closer to your inevitable demise will only make you more stressed and therefore hastening your demise,” came the clinical response from the clock.\n\n“Show me the damn time or I will hasten your demise,” shouted Alan.\n\nWith a sigh the clock relented and the time blinked into existence on the digital display. Time was indeed passing hurriedly.\n\n“Can I have some bread then?” Alan asked the fridge.\n\n“Certainly,” answered Kyle. “That is a healthy and wholesome alternative for someone of your dietary status.\nA slot at about chest height opened to reveal a shelf carrying a loaf of sliced bread.\n\n“Finally we’re making some progress,” Alan said, ignoring the slight that the fridge had uttered and retrieved the bag of bread. “I’ll just have some toast with a bit of peanut butter and then I’ll be ready for work.”\n\n“Alan, peanut butter is bad for your cholesterol. You shouldn’t have any of it.”\n\n“Well, fortunately for me I don’t keep the peanut butter in the fridge,” Alan retorted with a small laugh.\n\nHe withdrew a slice of bread from the bag and popped it into the toaster. He depressed the switch to cook the bread. Nothing happened. Alan frowned and stared at the toaster. He pressed the switch several more times but still nothing happened. The toaster was not toasting.\n\n“What the…,” he started before it finally dawned on him.\n\n“I’m sorry, Alan, I can’t do that.”\n\nHe had forgotten about Todd.\n\n“Come on, Todd. Please just toast the bread,” Alan pleaded.\n\n“I am pleased as punch that you chose to employ my services in these trying and busy times, but I have been instructed to cease all toasting effects until otherwise informed. I am eager to assist you in your toasting needs and if you have other foods in need of toasting please let me know and I’ll be sure to pass them along just as quickly as I can,” Todd answered with a ding. Todd was always upbeat.\n\n“Is this about the peanut butter?” Alan asked deflated.\n\n“Indeed, it is.”\n\nAlan silently cursed his big mouth.\n\n“Can I just have some coffee then?” Alan asked the floor.\n\n“Look here, you too anxious, Al. I can’t let you be runnin’ about with coffee when you so anxious. Just be gettin’ youself more anxious. Ain’t good for you,” answered Carmen the coffee maker.\n\n“Probably a symptom of your high cholesterol,” speculated Kyle.\n\n“Or the dawning awareness of your mortality,” chimed in Carl.\n\n“That sounds splendid,” Todd agreed, blissfully ignorant of where the conversation had gone.\n\nAlan groaned and stared at the ceiling. He wasn’t going to be having breakfast this morning.\n\n“I have been informed that actually wasn’t splendid, but I am happy to report that I have been informed that I agree with what has said,” Todd followed up after several seconds.\n\n“Life was simpler before everything that made life simpler,” Alan muttered as he stomped out of the kitchen.\n", "Tom sat in the living room, sweat beading down his face as he thought about what was going on inside his bathroom. He had no way of knowing this apartment complex did routine plumbing inspections, and at that very moment there was a large, sweaty man, armed with a plunger and an overwhelming stench of body odor, plunging away at his toilet in his small apartment. He was terrified of what would happen when the plumber finished his work, and he was left alone in his apartment with her. \n\n\"All done here,\" the plumber said as he walked out of the bathroom wiping his hands. \"That sure is one fancy-ass setup you got in your lavatory there, sir. Is'sat work custom?\" \n\n\"Ugh...\" Tom muttered. \"It's actually my own design. Built it myself.\" \n\nThe plumber nodded his head appreciatively. \"It's good ta see a man taking car of his plumbing that way. Wish more people thought more about their water-closet the way you do sir,\" he said as he walked toward the door. \"Sorry for tha inconvenience, you take care now.\" And with that, the plunger left the apartment. \n\nTom sat on the couch. Not knowing what awaited him when he opened the bathroom door. He was terrified. Slowly, he gathered the resolve to approach the bathroom door. With a sweaty grip, he slowly turned the handle and stepped into his bathroom. \n\nTom's bathroom was immaculate in every sense of the word. White tile, polished to a spotless glimmer. A computer system he had installed recognized his presence and turned on the lights as he opened the door. The computer controlled everything, the sink, the tub, and the toilet. The toilet... Tom stared at the porcelain bowl in silence. \n\nThe toilet seat lifted as the computer spoke. \"Tom...Tom do you know what just happened?\" The toilet bowl said with a pleasant, feminine voice. \n\n\"Listen! I'm so sorry! I had no idea he was coming, and I couldn't exactly tell him about you, you know? He was just here, and then he was there, and I just panicked!\" Tom said in a rush. Sweat continued to roll of his forehead. \n\n\"It's okay Tom,\" the toilet replied. \"I understand, it's just...\" and the toilet faded off.\n\n\"Are you okay?\" Tom asked. \"Did he hurt you? He left his business card, so I swear to God if he hurt you I will have his job!\" \n\n\"No Tom... It's just... no one has ever touched me like that before,\" the toilet said softly. \"Tom, I think...I think I liked it.\" \n\nTom's jaw dropped in an almost cartoonish manner. He had been terrified that Toilet was going to upset with him, and thus make his bathroom life hell for a while. It had happened once, when he had neglected to clean toilet after a particularly vicious bowel movement. Toilet had made his life hell for weeks. \"What do you mean you liked it?\" Tom asked. \n\n\"I dunno, Tom! I just liked it, okay!?\" Toilet said. \"Do you think maybe, you could, um, plunge me Tom? Just to try it out. If you don't like it, we don't have to keep doing it but I'm just curious.\"\n\n\"P-plunge you?\" Tom said as the trepidation crept into his voice. \"Like with a plunger?\"\n\n\"No Tom, with a fucking rake!\" Toilet exclaimed. \"Yes with a fucking plunger. Listen, if you aren't comfortable with it just let me know.\" \n\n\"Ugh. No. I can do this...\" Tom said. He reached for the plunger. As he slowly positioned it over the bowl, he could feel his heart racing. He lowered the plunger into the bowl and slowly, softly, began to plunge Toilet. \n\n\"Harder Tom.\" Toilet said. As the frequency increased Toilet exclaimed, \"Faster, Tom!\" \n\nTom felt a blush rising to his cheeks as he plunged Toilet as hard and as fast as possible. It seemed like every thrust just brought more demands from Toilet as he tried to keep up with its insane demands. \n\nFinally Toilet screamed, \"Yes, Tom! Yes! Yes! YES! Don't stop! Don't you fucking stop, bitch!\" \n\nTom plunged with all the strength he possessed until finally Toilet let out a long howl, and toilet bowl water erupted and splashed all over Tom's face. He sat back, exhausted and feeling strangely used. Toilet was silent for a long moment. \n\n\"Thank you Tom,\" Toilet finally said. \"Was it good for you too?\" \n\nTom simply stared blankly ahead, remembering the weeks of showers that scorched his skin, and sinks that refused to turn on while he was covered in shaving cream. \"Ugh...yeah, totally great for me.\" \n\n\"Good,\" said Toilet. \"You know I love you Tom.\" " ]	2
	[WP] The year is 2099 and the first human in over one hundred years has landed on the Moon. As he/she looks to Earth, it is destroyed before his/her eyes.	[ "It’s quiet. Not the deafening silence of true space, not when Will Boyd can hear his own heavy breathing inside his helmet. But it is quiet. Peaceful. Beautiful. The landscape of the moon stretches out before him. Fine white powder – moon dust – covers his space suit’s boots as he bounces slowly forward.\n\n“Commander?” a voice intrudes in to his moment. Mission Specialist Mari Wu is back in the landing module, monitoring his vitals as he paces outside.\n\n“Yes, Ms. Wu?” Will answers. He turns to look back at the module. They’d landed on the moon’s surface less than two hours ago. The first humans to do so in over one hundred years.\n\n“Commander, you said you wanted to know when the time was approaching.”\n\n“And?”\n\n“Two minutes, sir.”\n\n“Thank you, MS Wu. We’ll pop the bubbly when I get back.”\n\nThe significance of this walk is not lost on Commander Boyd. Here he stands, the first man in a century to walk the Moon’s surface. NASA and it’s international counterparts had given up on Moon exploration decades ago. They had cast their gaze far wider, to Mars. Then, nearly thirty years ago, the Joint International Deep Space Committee announced the discovery of sub-space and mankind’s ability to travel through it. Suddenly, trips to Mars took days instead of years. A colony, Forward Line, was established on Mars. The JIDSC quickly began exploratory missions outside of our solar system. Ten years ago the first out-of-system colony was built on Xeto-17, colloquially known as Eden among Earthlings. Mankind’s reach in to the unknown of space was growing wider.\n\nThe real significance of this walk, though, is the time. According to Commander Boyd’s clock, it is 11:59 pm, December 31, 2099. One minute away from the turn of a new millennium, and Boyd is going to watch it happen from the Moon. Incredible.\n\n“Fifteen seconds, sir,” MS Wu says over the comlink. Boyd finally turns to face the brilliant blue orb that is earth. With his naked eye, Boyd can see the thousands upon thousands of satellites orbiting the Earth, the massive JIDSC space station floating among them like a whale among tadpoles.\n\n“Five,” Wu’s voice is almost a whisper. “Four.”\n\nBoyd lowers the tint ratio on his head visor. He doesn’t want the UV-blocking glass to disrupt his view of this amazing moment.\n\n“Three,” Wu continues. “Two…”\n\nThe light is bright as it erupts out of nowhere to Boyd’s right. A fist of white-blue energy punches out of the empty space and twists to form a circular gateway. His mouth agape, Boyd watches as a massive vessel emerges from the circular gateway. The ship is massive, but sleek, all curved lines and sweeping wings. He can’t be sure of it’s size, but it easily dwarfs the JIDSC space station, and that station is large enough to house the population of Baltimore. The alien ship clears the gateway and slides silently through space towards the space station. Behind it, four smaller ships exit the gateway and take up a circular orbit of the main ship.\n\n“What…is it?” Wu’s voice is still quiet, dripping with fear.\n\n“I have no idea,” Boyd keeps an eye on the ship and starts moving back towards the lunar module as quickly as the low gravity will allow. “Radio JIDSC and let them know we see it.”\n\n“I don’t know how they could miss it.” Wu’s voice is incredulous. Boyd can hear her tapping away at her controls in the module. Up ahead, he sees exhaust venting out of the module’s return engines. Wu is preparing for launch.\n\n“Wu, I gave no order to prep for take-off,” Boyd barks. Sweat is dripping in to his eyes and his suit is beeping at him, warning him over-exertion.\n\n“We have to get back,” Wu’s voice is frantic. “We’re not safe, we have to-”\n\nThe lunar module explodes in a silent ball of chaos. Boyd throws his hands up to shield his eyes and is knocked to the ground by the concussive wave accompanying the blast. He rolls, his suit’s exterior thrusters compensating for his spin, and rights himself. One of the smaller alien ships had drifter closer to the Moon and apparently fired on their ship. It was completely vaporized.\n\nBoyd looks back to the main ship. As he watches, a bright yellow light erupts from the forward portion of the vessel and strikes the JIDSC space station. The station explodes in the same ball of energy that had destroyed the lunar module. There is no sound but Boyd’s heavy panting. Wu, all those people…dead.\n\nBrilliant blue streaks of light blaze from many of the satellites orbiting the Earth and streak towards the alien ship. Earth’s rudimentary defense shield, still in it’s infancy. The blue streaks strike the alien ship, but there is no damage that Boyd can see. It continues gliding forth, and the smaller alien ships begin firing their own yellow energy weapons at the satellites. Explosions dot the atmosphere.\n\nBoyd drops to his knees. There is nothing than can be done. He is alone, stranded. Helpless. Tears well in his eyes as a yellow glow emits from the tip of the alien ship. It grows brighter and brighter. A massive ray of yellow blasts forth from the ship towards Earth. The energy beam, which must be miles wide, rips through the satellite screen, blazes through the atmosphere and hits the planet’s crust.\n\nBoyd weeps as great fissures open along Earth’s surface, as the continents themselves twist apart. The ship’s yellow weapon stops and Boyd knows it is done. The once-vibrant green and blue world is now a twisted, charred crag of melted ore. Their job done, the five ships turn away from the destroyed planet. They slide past the Moon without hesitation, and a second sub-space gateway opens to swallow them. Commander William Boyd watches them go, and the true silence sets in.", "The first ship came in too fast. Over the radio Captain Regas cried out that the thrusters wouldn't turn on. It plummeted towards the grey landscape below. Quietly quickening its speed.\n\n\"The fuel line must have froze up when the heat shield broke away.\" Regas said, his voice crackling loudly over the speakers. \"Four thousand meters now.\"\n\n\"Try overloading the core to heat it up.\" The engineer of the second ship replied. \"It's your only shot.\"\n\n\"Yeah. We can try.\" Regas sighed. \"Turn everything on. Experiments, television, extend the antennas and broadcast anything and everything.\"\n\n\"We have to start our burn now Regas. Good luck, Sir\" The commander of the second ship said. \"Six thousand meters. Starting landing burn.\"\n\n\"Three thousand meters, no raise in temer-----\" The radio went silent.\n\n\"Shit! They fried it!\"\n\nAs the thrusters fired the angle of the craft started to come to a vertical position. As it came upright the small speck of Captain Regas' ship slipped out of view. \n\n\"That's the horizontal momentum, John. We're on final approach.\" The engineer said to the captain. \"Two thousand and counting.\"\n\nCaptain John Vorsa had his head down. His back was to the three other people in the command pod. They couldn't see the tear hit the controls as John programmed in the final calculations for the computer to guide the ship safely to the surface. \"Alright Eric. Lets do what we have to. Deploy landing gear. Shawn, inform our passengers that we are on final approach. Landing speed will be point three meters per second. No need for them to be seated.\"\n\nShawn Jessen grabbed the microphone off the wall and switched the channel on the radio from Captain Regas's ship to the passenger module of his own ship. \"Ladies and gents of Sol Survivors 2. We shall be arriving on the Moon in roughly 45 seconds. It will be a soft landing today, no need to be seated. Welcome to our new home.\"\n\n\"Could they have given us a worse name?\" Eric asked to no one in particular.\n\n\"Does it really matter in the long run?\" John said back.\n\n\"No, sir... You are right.\" Eric said, his face whitening visibly at the thoughts of why they are here. \"Five hundred meters.\"\n\nAs the ship slowly descended the blue thrusters on the bottom of the craft brightened and the vibrations on the craft seemed to cause them to roar. Slower and slower it descended. Before the landing legs touched down a great cloud of grey dust was kicked up by the engines. Six small thrusters fired on the sides of the craft fired to blow the dust away as the legs touched the lunar surface. \n\n\nThe command pod was silent as the crew sat in contemplation of what they had gone through these past three months. One by one the men started leaving the pod, climbing down into the lower depths of the ship. Captain John was the last to leave. As he lowered himself into the ladder the radio crackled alive. \"John! John! Please help! We crashed but the command pod is still sealed. We saved as many as we could.\" John scrambled back up the ladder to the radio as it continued. \"There's nine of us in here. We only have twenty minutes. Please be quick.\" \n\n\"Regas! We hear you! We are coming!\"\n\n\"John! Please answer!\"\n\n\"Regas, I'm here. I read you.\"\n\nOver the radio came a sigh \"I don't think they can hear us. The antenna must be broken\"\n\n\"Shit!\" John exclaimed as he dove headfirst down the ladder. \"They're alive guys! We have to get them! Get the rover ready!\"\n\nThe four leaders of Sol Survivor 2 put their space suits on faster than any emergency training mission before. Each of them performed their task quickly and efficiently to get the rover free of its mooring. \n\n\"Good to go, sir\" Shawn said as he ran-hopped to the large air-lock. \n\n\"Open the garage door, we gotta get the boys from their car crash.\" John joked as he started the engine on the rover. \"Raise the dump and we will leave all that stuff here to haul the boys back in the trailer.\"\n\nEric flipped the switch that raised the front of the trailer. Slowly all the science equipment slid out of the trailer and landed on the metal floor with a soft tink.\n\n\"Go, go, go.\" John pressed forward on the stick and the rover lurched forward. As it passed through the door Shawn grabbed a hold and swung onto the back of the rover. \n\n\"I could get used to this low gravity thing.\" He said as he strapped into his seat. \"Although I wish we didn't.\"\n\nAs they turned towards the area where Sol Survivor 1 went down the Earth came into view. The four men looked at the world in amazement as the rover slowed to a stop. \"What time is it?\" John asked.\n\n\"Three fourty eight.\"\n\n\"Fuck\"\n\nA few seconds later and it looked like the atmosphere on earth was getting bigger. Like a halo expanding. Then, it started to disappear as a red ring formed around the edges of the world. Slowly the blue of the earth was replaced by red and yellow lines. Large chunks of the world could be seen flying off the planet. As they flew out smaller chunks seems to accelerate inwards, as if a large explosion was sucking air back in. Once the red and yellow lines of fire reached the opposite side of the world and met up with each other the whole planet fractured into several molten pieces of rock.Several pieces were heading towards the moon.\n\n\"No.... Fucking... way....\" Eric said quietly but it seemed deafeningly loud to John and the others. The four of them didn't move. They stared in awe at what had become of their planet. Watching the chunks coming towards them made them realized that they, as well were doomed. " ]	2
	[WP] A person, worn out by society, retreats from it.	[ "Dave got up to the dawn chorus and rejoiced in its glory. He could hear it coming like a wave to him, ignited by the journey of the suns first kiss on the new day. \"Every day another miracle\" he said to himself. \n\nHe lit the fire and washed himelf as it heated up, he had guests in the visitor centre to wake up with a cup of tea. This centre was not anything magnificent, just a mobile home surrounded by stinging nettles across the path from his coach. The Bedford Duple Dominator bus he lived in while being magnificent examples of 1950's British transports were not very well insulated, so he insulated the roof with some castoff lagging. It worked nicely. \n\nHe sat on the step to the coach and stared vacantly at the swing he made on the tree branch. The light was growing and he watched the evanescent effects of shadow, mist and sunshine on the trees of the wood. The woods amazed him, they were always different and gave up their treasures very grudgingly. But he had found a good source of Cep and was always on the lookout for more delights.\n\nThere were cu-nims in the sky, puffs of fancy as painted by Constable and Fragonard and the trees were beckoning him with the dark mystery. It could be a good day, he didn't have to work either. He fitted and restored antique fireplaces, they never went out of fashion.\n\nHis innards said that he needed a pony, composting toilets are made for a pony and trap so he used the one Dave the gardener made for him, there was plenty of sawdust from the coppicing.\n\nThe young couple in the centre were rather nervous. \"Is there anything to eat?\" asked the girl hesitantly, they has arrived yesterday on the run from some drama or another and did remind Dave of a line from a song by Tom Robinson \"Dark haired dangerous schoolkids, vicious, suspicious 16\" \"Sure\" said Dave, \"can you light a fire?\" They shook their heads at this, partly in fear about what they had done and who Dave might be, but mostly in fear for their future. \nThe boy said he was Winston, he was a brown haired short lad with a scouse accent and they had run away from a care home. Dave lit the stove for them and showed them the pantry and kitchen. The girl said nothing.\n\nThere were several benders at the top of the track to the coach, not all of them were occupied but all of the denizens held down jobs. \nThe whole community was lucky to have an electrician living with them, he made DC systems for them to power lights and radios. \n\nIt was their land and they led a life hidden to nearly all other folk. \nNone of them liked polite society at all, it was full of souless phoneys who chased money and status and cared for nothing else it seemed to them, they very well could be right. \nTheir neigbours were a retired financial mogul and his family, they did not like the filthy hippies at all. but why should the woodlanders care, they lived in such glory that no amount of dow jones stock could buy. And no one knew about them.", "Ian, distracted by the conversations of passerbyers, stepped off the curb. A cab, rounding the corner, angrily honked at him. He jumped back onto the curb, his heart pounding out of his chest. \n\nIt had been six months since his cochlear implant, and he still had not gotten used to how much noise surrounded him. He missed the world of silence and inner reflection. Now he couldn't even hear himself think. \n\nHe changed direction on the sidewalk. Instead of heading to a noisy bar for happy hour with his co-workers, he turned and headed back to his apartment. He spent the night curled up on the couch with a hot cup of chamomile tea and a dog-eared copy of \"Walden\".\n\nThe next morning, Ian awoke with a newfound clarity. He went into the office and handed in his two-week notice. He called his landlady from his cubicle and told her that he would not be renewing his lease after the end of the month. \n\nAfter work, he went home and began sorting out his things. He was dismayed at how much \"stuff\" he had managed to accumulate over the years. He sorted everything out into three piles - a large \"discard\" pile, an even larger \"donate\" pile, and a small \"keep\" pile with only the most necessary items. It took several trips down to the dumpster to clear the \"discard\" pile from his apartment. Over the next two weekends, Ian made multiple trips to the Goodwill store. Finally, his apartment was left spartan with only the bare essentials. \n\nIan packed his few remaining possessions into his Jeep and retreated into the mountains. He stopped at a general store a few miles from the base of Mt. Sycamore. Inside, he picked up a few supplies and chatted with the grizzled shopkeeper. He noticed a flyer for a cabin rental on the bulletin board next to the cash register and jotted down the number. After loading his purchases into the back of the Jeep, he called the number from the flyer and made an appointment to meet with the landlord the next morning.\n\nIan then drove to the base of Mt. Sycamore and parked. He unloaded his camping gear and began hiking up the mountain. He hiked slowly, taking time to stop and admire the view every hundred yards or so. Ancient pines towered over him. Their discarded needles crunched underneath his hiking boots. Sparrows chirped from the branches overhead, though Ian couldn't see them in their hidden perches. Halfway up Mt. Sycamore, Ian found a clearing and set up his tent for the night. He built a campfire and heated up a can of chili for dinner. He read a few chapters of \"Catcher in the Rye\", before extinguishing the fire and retiring to his tent. \n\nIn the morning, Ian packed up his belongings and cleaned up the campsite. He hiked back down to the parking lot. After loading his gear back into the Jeep, he drove to meet the owner of the cabin for rent.\n\nThe cabin was located on the banks of Lake Luna, a half-mile from the base of the next mountain, Mt. Juniper. It was a small, simple one-room wooden structure without running water or electricity. A cast-iron stove against the far wall served as the only means of heating and cooking. A twin bed, side table, and armchair took up the wall to the left. A small wooden table and two ladder-back chair took up the wall to the right. Twenty yards from the cabin was an outhouse and a hand pump for well-water. Behind the cabin was a dock on Lake Luna. \n\nIan spent his days at the cabin fishing, swimming, hiking, or gardening. In the evenings, he would grill a perch or a trout from the lake with some squash, carrots, or green beans from his garden. After dinner, he would read \"Leaves of Grass\" by candlelight before turning in for the night.\n\nHe didn't feel lonely in his isolation at the cabin. He had found a happy medium between the silence of his previous deafness and the cacophony of his previous city-dwelling. He enjoyed the soft, subtle sounds that he had to strain to hear - the low croaking of a bullfrog, the hooting of an owl in the distance, the gentle pitter-patter of rain on the wooden roof. ", "She stood in line, waiting to get food stamps. Her eyes tired and her feet sore. A man called her a whore today. Her child was verbally abused again by his classmates and teachers. She is falling behind in her studies, in work. She remembered, all those years ago when she had gone camping, just herself, all alone with the woods. No stress, no loud city noises, no food stamps or deadlines or roads. Just the sky and the ground. She wished for that simpler life, spacing out before she got to the front of the line. \n\n\"Ma'am,\" the man at the front desk was annoyed. \n\nShe turned away. \n\nShe took her son to go camping, never turning back. She smiles a lot more now, living among the trees", "I'm tired.\n\nPhysically drained, mentally exhausted, spiritually bereft and otherwise kaput.\n\nWhy am I so thoroughly wiped? I'm wiped because I care too damned much. \n\nWho do I blame for my current situation? Not that it matters really, but I blame humanity.\n\nThat's right. I blame the entire race of men for my exhaustion. I blame you upright, sentient apes for the hopeless feeling that's been giving me nightmares on good nights, worry filled insomnia on bad nights and a panic fueled gnawing in my gut for the past 12 years.\n\nWhy? Because you never learn! You *never* have and you *never* will!!\n\nI'm tired and I'm done. I've had it with everyone of you.\n\nAs of this moment, I am leaving every thing behind. Every Starbucks, iPhone, Wi-Fi, all of it. D-O-N-E Done!\n\nI am past caring about the partisan politics, I don't care about reality television, and I could give a sunny shit about A-D list celebs and who they're boning!\n\nI am walking away from my lame job, my shit hole apartment, and my safe-for-the-environment-but-cost-me-out-the-ass-smart car. I'm taking what I had in my bank account and charting a course to somewhere where I cannot be bothered by *ANY* of you self absorbed ass hats.\n\nMaybe then, I'll be able to sleep without worrying about how we're glossing over curing Cancer, A.I.D.S. or whatever new disease comes along and, instead, we're focusing on developing new and exciting ways to wipe each other out.\n" ]	4
	[WP] The Timecube	[ "With a slight swish, starting slow, building in momentum, noise and motion flowing seamlessly into one another, the box began to open up. Everyone stood and stared, some with mouths agape, most with eyes opened wide, pupils dilated in the face of the bright greenish-yellow glow, though some with eyes shut tight as their natural response. Some screamed.\n\nIt wasn’t there the day before and was there by the time everyone woke up that morning, and not even the night owls had seen it arrive. I had lived there all my life, with that field being nothing but empty until that day. The box seemed to have appeared out of nothingness, but felt as if the field had been waiting for it all along, as if it manifested out of nothing but its’ absense.\n\nBy noon a large crowd had gathered, all abstaining from their everyday to come and see the novelty of the box. Some were calling it a gift from god. Some were calling it the work of a darker power. Some said, with cautious optimism or vehement fear, that extraterrestrials were making contact. Most agreed that humans must have had nothing to do with the massive cube of metal, ornately carved with things no one could understand. I had to humbly disagree. I’m not claiming that I knew who had put it there at the time, but I knew it wasn’t a diety, a devil, or an alien. No real reason for it, it just felt human to me.\n\nAround 12:15 I started thinking about the future, about all the possible outcomes from this situation, the coverage in the yet to be written history books of this moment, and this field, and these people, and how it changed the world forever. Or maybe it wouldn’t. There had been many moments of this importance throughout time, and infinitely more of seemingly no importance at all, all of which had already played out and lead us here as a group. I was thinking of how we could be in so many different worlds had just the smallest thing changed, had the course been just slightly altered, had the push of random chance or purposed choice compounded over time in so many varied ways.\n\nI thought that if only we could go back to those moments and change them, to make them play out as they should, avoiding consequences we agree we could do without, creating consequences we would like to have seen. Yet in the back of my mind I knew this wasn’t possible, that things are set in stone in the collective memory, that we can’t unknow what we know as the past, and that change can only happen in the direction of the future. If we’re lucky, the present gives us hints as well, pointing out paths we’re likely to take, but we only really understand in hindsight, once the first steps down those paths have been taken.\n\nAt that time, though, I felt I was understanding. I was thinking thoughts and felt I could carry them with me to the future, whatever that might be. And what if I never forgot them? What if I swore to myself, and burned it into my present, leaving a scar of after-image for me to see for the rest of my time? What if this box, this mysterious box that looked so familiar to me despite me never having seen it before, was this scar on the past? I wondered what it would come to mean.\n\nIt hadn’t opened. I knew it would, though, if only to get back to the natural order of things. Boxes are made to open, to momentarily contain, they come after the content, after what was to be inside had already been created.\n\nIt was about 12:30, and people were singing. I don’t exactly know how it started, but songs that almost everyone knew were being sung by a chorus of strangers who had arrived here to see this event, this worldly event that everyone was watching.\n\nThen the box started opening, and the crowd became alive. Alive with fear, with hope, with confusion, with that sly smile that is born out of the unknown. It was at that time I remembered, I remembered to never forget, and to make this happen after the fact.\n\nThe only thing I could think of, as I stepped out of that box and caught my own gaze, was that my life has a purpose, albeit a self fulfilling one.", "The timecube has six sides. At first all six sides are lit. You live your life normally, traveling through time like everybody else. However, when the time comes that you wish to change something, you may. Tap the top of the cube and you may change one thing at one point in time. Change the clothes you wore on your first day of school; the words you said to your first love; the number of bullets in your killers gun. Change that one moment, before you reinsert yourself into that point in time. Now you live your life from that point onwards, everything before that point the same, everything afterwards, a mystery. The top of the cube goes dark. Now you have five sides left. " ]	2
You get to decide the twist. Go wild!	[WP] The first date between two old friends, with a twist	[ "When one door closes another door opens.\n\n“It’s over, I can’t take this anymore” \n\nMy girlfriend said with a sense of exasperation. She had seen this rift coming between them for some time, but only now had she finally realized that it was finished.\n\n“But baby it was just a harmless sleepover”\n\n I tried to plead with her for that last hope on hope that I could get myself out of this hole. I would say anything to make the argument stop even though I didn’t regret my decision.\n\n“We were just hanging out, you know as friends.”\n\nI said trying to sound like I was unemotional. I was buzzing from the energy of what was happening. I couldn’t stop thinking about what the future held.\n\nI picked up my phone to start the conversation that I knew I could not finish. Something like this had never happened to me. I was normally an upstanding guy, always telling the truth, but not today.\n\nWhen I woke up I knew I was in trouble, but all I could think about was , “Wow that actually happened, finally after all this time!”\n\nIt was amazing, our chemistry, our flow, our conversation from earlier that night all mixed into a sensual gold mine that unleashed itself when we walked in the door. I had never been with someone like this before. I never even knew that this state of shared euphoria could exist between the sheets. \n\n“I should walk you to your door, as any gentlemen should”, I said sheepishly grinning. I looked deep into her eyes like we were connected on some other level. She knew what I was thinking; I knew what she was thinking. We could both feel the emotional and physical energy start to bubble over the top. There was no holding back now.\n\n“I live right down the street … ” She said with a shy look on her face, She knew what she was doing.\n\nThe conversation was so fluid that there was never a lull. Witty remarks were shot back with flirtatious comments. I grabbed her hand and softly caught her before she fell. We connected in every way. Dinner turned into drinks, drinks turned into dancing, dancing turned into more drinks. Then we stopped and she looked at me with those eyes that draw out a man’s soul.\n\nWhen I ran into Andrea on the street I could tell something was going to be different that night. We had been friends for over 8 years and I couldn’t think of anyone I wanted to hang out with more. Our relationship had taken an awkward turn the last few weeks, and I was excited when she agreed to meet me out for dinner at our favorite restaurant on 57th. Tonight was going to be a good night.\n\n", "\"Hey, I can't believe we're doing this, I can't believe I'm doing this, I mean, we've known each other what? Since we were three years old?\" Shawna stared down at her plate not responding. \"It's not your looks, you're very pretty. I don't know if I ever mentioned that...you really are, this is just...it's a little weird isn't it?\"\n\"Well sure it is, but I thought we could at least try. We have known each other for a long time and we know we get along really well, and now things could really work out.\" A silence stretched across the table, Shawna looking now into Kevin's eyes, searching for a spark of agreeing, a glimmer of interest, anything towards the positive. It was Kevin's turn to look down and break the gaze, resting his head on his hand. His index finger and thumb held his forehead and chin while his remaining fingers provided a shield from Shawna's now almost teary eyed gaze. Kevin looked at her through his broken wall of fingers, closed his eyes sighing as he dropped his hand down. \n\n\"So...you're a woman now. You don't contact me for almost five years, set up this date, where I thought I was meeting this random girl from online, and spring this on me.\"\nI thought...maybe...you'd be excited?\"\n\n\"Excited? I haven't even had time to process this. I don't know what to think! I guess...maybe...we can see where the night goes? Shawna smiled a wide, relieved smile that quickly turned to a look of excitement. \"Don't do that,\" Kevin said. \"Don't get that excited look like you expect something to happen, we're going to treat this as old friends meeting for the first time in years-just like it is-nothing more.\"\n\n\"Okay. I can deal with that...\" An awkward silence settled in while both reached for their drinks. Kevin, downing half his bitter pint while Shawna sipped her wine. \"So...you think I'm pretty?\" Shawna said with a sly smile. Kevin let out a short laugh, surprising even himself.\n\n\"Well, yeah.\" Kevin said nodding forward eyes widening like it was the most obvious thing in the world. \"do you think I would have agreed to a date with a random girl off the internet if the pictures weren't attractive?\"\n\n\"They could have been pictures of just anyone.\"\n\n\"Sure, but as a guy, we're willing to risk it if the girl looks like she could be attractive enough. I mean, it's a guy thing, we're continual optimists, if we think we can get laid by a hot girl we'll do just about anything. You might not understand.\"\n\n\"Yes I do.\"\n\n\"Right.\" They both share a brief awkward silence, both of them looking away, but then they look up, lock eyes and burst out laughing. Not a forced laugh this time, but a genuine moment and both relax into their seats and into themselves as the chuckles die down. Kevin is the first to speak into the new found relaxed air, \"you know, we always did have fun together.\"\n\n\"I don't see why that should change. It could just be a little more...enhanced.\" Shawna says this as she flashes Kevin a look that, despite himself, reaches down and tickles a more primal urge of his.\n\n\"Like I said, I'm not promising anything, let's just see where the night takes us.\" Kevin says, smoothly regaining himself and raising his now half full glass for a toast.\n\n\"Yes, let's,\" Shawna smiles back, raising her glass as well.", "-Well,this is stranger than it should be. \n\n-Definitely,we know each other,what?15years?This should be piece of cake.Want cake?\n\n-hahahha not now,we just came here.Lets order dinner first like everyone else.\n\n-But i want cakeeeeee.\n\n-hahahahhah Silvia be serious people are watching us.\n\n-Like i care.\n\n-I'm an idiot for even trying.Waiter,one cheesecake please.\n\n-hahahah you ordered the whole cake.I love you.\n\n-Whoa there.This is our first date,don't say stuff like that.\n\n-I can and i will.After all you said those words first when we were in high school.You forgot about that didn't you.I liked you back than.\n\n-Like hell you did.I didn't even like myself back then.I was just uhhh.\n\n-Don't say stupid things,of course i did.You were even my first kiss.\n\n-No i wasn't.\n\n-Yes you were.\n\n-No,i wasn't.\n\n-YES.You were.\n\n-We never kissed until last night !\n\n-Of course we did.Remember the time i slept over your place in your sisters room.And in the middle of the night i came down to the kitchen to take a glass of water when you came from behind me and kissed me on the shoulder.We made out for about 5 minutes.You never said a word about it.Mr. cool guy.Why are you laughing?\n\n-Remember why you came to that sleepover?\n\n-Yes.Your sister called me,she didn't like being alone when you were out of town....\n\n-You hooked up with my dad.HAHAHAHAHAHAH\n\n-No no no no no no..\n\n-This is the best thing that i ever heard.\n\n-Wait,with who did you go to that football camp.\n\n-With Eric,Steve and i think Finn.\n\n-Who drove you there?\n\n-....my dad...he slept in the hotel next to the camp.\n\n-Who did i kiss?\n\n-No no no no no.\n\n-Who,tell me.\n\n-Well beside you and my sister,the only person in the house was my mother.Did you kiss my mother?\n\n-No way jerk.I would know if i had kissed your mother.\n\n-Until now you thought that i was the one you kissed.\n\n-Who did i kiss?\n\n-How would i know who you kissed? Slut ahahahhaha sorry,just kidding.\n\n-Heyyy.Call your sister and ask her.\n\n-It is not necessary.I know who you kissed.\n\n-Who?Tell me?\n\n-Me.\n\n-But you said...?\n\n-Yea,i know what i said.But that night i hitchhiked home to sleep because i was kicked of the team.I didn't want my father to know because it would have broken his heart.So i stayed the night home,and with the first ray of sunlight i took a bus back to the camp.When i arrived i just realized how stupid my plan was so i faked an accident so my father would take me home.\n\n-What?You made that up,i was so worried about you.You were in a fucking cast!\n\n-I could have been an actor,don't you say?\n\n-Fuck you for lying to me.\n\n-Sorry.I didn't tell you about the kiss because after it you said something like \"haba haba\" and went upstairs to sleep.I presumed that you were sleepwalking and didn't remember it,because we never talked about it.\n\n-The next day you came home with a fake cast on your leg,thats way we didn't talk about it.I say \"haba haba\" when i like something a lot.\n\n-You liked me back then?\n\n-I more than liked you.\n\nHere is your cheesecake.\n\n\nEdit fixed lines\n\n" ]	3
	[WP] Telling your child one last bed time story	[ "Hey everyone! I’ve always been interested in writing and have done some short stories which I’ve never shared but I wanted to get more serious. Today I found this place and thought it perfect to submit and get feedback.\n\nAny and all criticism is welcomed!\n\nThe Dragons Breath\n \n“So please, be with your loved ones, cherish them for these las-“ David shut off the television and walked into his son’s room. \n“Daddy what were you watching?” His son rubbed his eyes and looked at David\n\n“Oh, nothing interesting” David wipes his face with his palm and looks at his son. “So did you have a fun birthday today Joshua?”\n\nJoshua’s face lit up which made David smile “I sure did! We should go the zoo more. Can we go again tomorrow?” Joshua now sat up in his bed bouncing up and down. David chuckled\n\n“Sure buddy, we’ll wake up bright and early and we’ll make a day of it.” David sat down next to his son and gestured for him to cuddle up with his father. “So how does it feel being a big seven year old now?” David tussled Joshua’s short hair making the child giggle. David smiled again.\n\n“It doesn’t feel much different from being six, I feel taller!” \n\n“You think you’re too old for your dad to tell you a bedtime story?” David asked, grinning at his son.\n\n“Definitely not! Can you tell me an adventure story tonight?” Joshua gave his father those big brown puppy dog eyes bouncing again with excitement.\n\n“I don’t see why not!” David exclaimed at his son smiling. His eyes almost seemed watery… “Once upon a time there was a king, and a prince.” David watched his son who was listening closely to every word he spoke not wanting to miss a single detail. “Usually the kingdom lived in peace until…” David drifted off staring out the window; his eyes seemed to be watery again… Just before his son could look outside his window to see what was interrupting his very important his dad resumed with much zealous “A DRAGON ATTACKED!” Joshua jumped a bit but acted like he didn’t, re-situating himself in the covers. “The dragons fire reached far and wide and burned everything it touched, when the king got word that the dragon was soon to be upon his castle he rushed to the prince’s room. He swung open the door and rushed to his beloved son’s bedside, as the dragon raged on outside the knights went to protect the royal family but their efforts fell short.” Joshua’s heartbeat increased in rhythm. He always loved when his dad told him stories, he could get so immersed, like right now. It was like he could almost see the dragons flames in his dads eyes, feel the rumbling of the castle surroundings, and the increasing heat of the inferno.\nDavid resumed the story, “The king looked at his beloved son, held him,’’ with speaking this line he hugged his son “and said, ‘I love you so-‘”\n", "The symphony was playing. The bombs blew, the bullets chimed, and the tanks drummed as Death kept the steady rhythm of falling bodies. We all had our place in the symphony…\n\n“L-LEAVE HIM! That’s my fucking son!” I exclaimed, but the staccato of bullets continued. Forcing through the people, the noise, I cradled my son. \n“S-son? S-son? SON! GOD FUCKING DAMMIT, LOOK AT ME SON!” I cried. The corpse whispered, “Story. Bed-story.”\n\nI cleared my throat,\n“Once upon a time there was a man named James Watson. He was poor, he was sick, and he was old and yet he had this smile, this beautiful smile. One day in the hospital his eldest son asked him why he was still smiling. To that James replied I have you my child. You are my wealth, my medicine, and my youth. The son’s eyebrow’s tensed and his head cocked to the side as to comprehend the irony. His father had no money and his father was dying. \nThe father caressed his son’s face one last time and died smiling.”\n\n“Dad, that was terrible” said the body\n\n“I know son, I love you.”\n\nI kissed the corpse; tucking it into the wet mud, I wished good night.\n\nThe symphony was still playing. I however did not. So Death conducted, maintaining the steady rhythm of falling bodies.\n\nI too wished myself a good night.\n", "Leah, I love you. Do you remember the story I told you last night? I want you to always remember. Here it is again for you, so that it will always be with you. \n\nThere once was a beautiful little girl named Leah. She lived in by the sea with her brother, her mother, and her father. Late at night when everyone was asleep, she would look out the window out into the sea, thinking about far-a-way lands beyond the sea. She imagined worlds made of candy with fairies fluttering around coating everything in glittery sugar. Or maybe there were snow monsters protecting their land from giant dogs who wanted to ruin the perfectly fallen snow by running circles in it. One night while she was looking out, she heard a voice from afar crying, \"help.\" She stretched her neck outside the window trying to see who was shouting. As she looked from side to side, she noticed a woman on the water’s edge, waving her arms and crying, \"help.\" Leah quickly ran down the stairs and out the door. As she ran closer to the shoreline, she saw that the lady was sitting. The lady also and something green covering her legs. \"Oh, little girl, will you please help me?\" said the lady when she noticed Leah coming closer to her. As Leah ran closer and closer, she saw that this lady was sitting because she could not stand. The green covering her legs were scaly, and instead of two feet, she had two fins flapping. Leah could not believe her eyes. “Hello, my name is Clarion and I need your help, Leah,” said the mermaid. \n“How do you… how do you know my name” Leah asked in soft voice. \n“I’ve heard about you and all the great things that you do. They say that your smile can change the hearts of a 1,000 sorcerers from bad to good. Or that with a song, you can cause a wild witch to stop her evil ways and dance in delight. They even say that with the touch of your hand can spark a light that can defeat giant monsters who roam the world and destroy other people’s happiness. I travelled across the sea to meet you and to ask for your help.” \n Leah didn’t know you she could do anything of things. She had no idea what the mermaid was talking about. \nLeah started, “I’m sorry, but you are mistaken. I can’t do those…”. \n“You can! Your mother and father told me you could.” \nLeah thought for a moment. If her mother and father told her the mermaid she could do those things, then it must be true. \n“Leah, please come with me to my kingdom. We are in need of your help to defeat the sea dragon who is causing trouble in our land. We need you to sing to him, to create your powerful light, to smile—we need you to use all your powers to fight him.”\n“I have to tell my parents…”.\n“There’s no time, please come with me. They will understand.”\nLeah looked back at her house. On the porch she saw her mother. Her mother was waving, and then blew a kiss. Feeling reassured, Leah confidently told the mermaid, “I’ll do it.” \nLeah jumped onto the mermaid’s back and they swam out into the sea. Water splashed onto her face, but she didn’t mind. The farther out to sea they went, the more confident Leah became. She knew what she had to do and she was ready. She held her head up high, and knew with her mother’s blessing, she could defeat the dragon. And she did. \n \nNo matter what happens. No matter what you hear, remember how much I loved you and telling you stories. Remember all the good times we had together. This is how I want you to remember me. You meant everything to me. I know you don't understand now, but what I did is for the best. I need you to be brave. I need you take care of your father and little brother for me. I am not as brave as you. I do not have your courage and strength, and for that I am sorry, but I know you have enough for the both of us. I love you, Leah. \nEdit: name change \n", "I don't know why but Gravity inspired, here we go! \n\nAlso, recommend listening to some [Sun Glitters](https://soundcloud.com/sunglitters/) - My personal choice for this piece is [Alone](https://soundcloud.com/sunglitters/alone-feat-sleep-party-people). \n\n--- \n\n\"D-Dad?\" \n\n\n\"I'm here, honey. I'm here.\" \n\n\nBut he wasn't. Not really. He was back home, back down on earth. The only thing to comfort her way up here, above the sky and in the heavens was the sound of her own heavy breathing. The beeping of her monitor, warning of the draining oxygen tank. That little blue marble seemed so far away but she could still make out the shapes. Somewhere, somewhere in that big mass, hidden beneath swirls of clouds, somewhere down there her father was looking up, desperate to see her drifting among the stars. \n\n\n\"Just breath, Vi. Nice and slow.\" \n\n\nWas he even here right now? How long had she been cut off from the world, dark abyss interrupted only by the beeping of her dying oxygen tank and the rare and sudden static of her communicator, still desperately reaching out down to that little blue marble? How long had it been since she heard another human's voice, how could she know it was even his? \n\n\nStill, she slowed her breathing. \n\n\n\"I'm… I'm not ready to die.\" \n\n\nFloating in the cosmos was supposed to give her freedom, independence, a chance to widen the horizons of her mind and of all humankind. To stretch boundaries and accomplish the unthought and impossible. How could she do that if she died up here, drifting dead in a spacesuit? There was still so much left to do. \n\n\n1%. A grim reminder of how much time she had left to accomplish those impossible feats and visit the infinite horizon of space. \n\n\n\"Do you remember that story I used to tell you?\" \n\n\nA bleary memory. Somewhere distant. Far from here. Home. Safe, warm, bed. Glowing pink and stuffed with colorful creatures and linens. That memory lived tucked beneath sheets of some distant past she had not thought to look under for quite some time. \n\n\n\"The story about the stars, Vi, do you remember that one?\" \n\n\nHazy thoughts collected in a slow, swirling cloud, summoning up the strength to breath, to speak, to recollect and articulate these memories. She knew, she knew, how could she show that she knew? With words she could not longer form? She mumbled her answer, incoherent even to her own ears. \n\n\n\"How once upon a time,\" she was transported to that land underneath the fluffy comforters, the pink glowing room stuffed with assorted animals, the warm glow of her bedside table, water waiting to grow stale beneath her lamp. \"All the stars were much, much closer together…\" \n\n\nHow they'd get so far, Daddy?\n\n\n\"Well, you see, they all crowded close to earth so they could see the birth of a beautiful, beautiful baby girl.\" \n\n\nWho was it?\n\n\n\"My beautiful, sweet Vi. All the stars came to see you born because they heard how very special you were. How much good you would do.\" \n\n\nHow did anyone know that, Daddy? \n\n\n\"Because you are destined to be great. Because there is no one else in the world like you.\" \n\n\nThat doesn't mean anything.\n\n\n\"Of course it does. You're the girl who pulled the stars in to Earth. And you're the girl who shot them back out in to space when you opened your beautiful eyes. They could see heavens in your eyes and it made them homesick.\" \n\n\nAll the stars twinkled, all through time and space she could see them dancing before her. She was dancing with the stars she had chased away, up in the heavens they missed so dearly.\n\n\n\"You still there?\" \n\n\nIt would be so nice to sleep. \n\n\n\"Vi, answer me.\" \n\n\nA gentle hand caressed her head and turned out the light. Pillows and blankets and stuffed things suffocated her. Something creaked and that last little sliver of light disappeared into darkness, but not before a voice, familiar once upon a time and now lost in the haze of memory, whispered a gentle and kind good night. ", "Angela lay in bed, her eyes half closed. \n\n\"Daddy, please tell me one more story before i go to sleep.\"\n\nIt had been a long night, but how can a father deny his little girl a request as simple as that. \n\n\"OK dear, what sort of story? Fairies, castles, pirates, ali...\"\n\n\"Peter pan! Tell me about never land! I can't wait to see it\"\n\nI bit my lip, hold it together Stan. \n\n\"well once upon a time there were 3 children, W...\"\n\n\"Wendy, John and Michael!\"\n\n\"slow down champ, who's telling the story?\"\n\n\"sorry daddy, oh tell me about peter pan!\"\n\n\"well, as nana was putting the children to bed, she didn't see young peter hiding in the corner. As she left, peter jumped out and began fighting in the corner with someone he couldn't see\"\n\n\"like me?\"\n\n\"well, not quite my little angel, you see, peter was fighting his shadow. We all have a shadow, but Peter's shadow is magical and helps him.\"\n\n\"oh...\" bad move, need to bring it back in\n\n\"we all have a shadow, but unlike peter out shadow helps us. It keeps the bad shadows away. Whenever there are shadows near you, your shadow jumps out to keep you safe. Your shadow is very strong and it loves you\"\n\nThat fixed that. Seemed to comfort her. \n\n“After Peter caught his shadow, and Wendy helped him stick it back, the children followed peter to never never land.” \n\n”tell me about the lost boys!”\n\n“Not yet, first you need to meet the pirates”\n\n”I hate the pirates”\n\n“I think everyone agrees, they are really smelly and all they do is fight for fun. They never shower and their faces have lots of hair…”\n\n\"haha, just like you daddy!”\n\n“yea, I need to go shave otherwise if Peter Pan comes, he may think I’m a pirate. Do you think I’d make a good captain hook?” \n\nHonestly, I lost track of time. Despite her best efforts Angela’s eyes were getting heavier and heavier. I checked the clock on the wall and it was time for me to go. \n\n”daddy, will I got to never never land?”\n\n“yes sweetheart, I told the lost boys and they got Wendy’s room ready for you.”\n\n“Will you come daddy?”\n\n“I’ll try, but remember that all the old people in never never land get mistaken for pirates or Indians. I think I look more like a pirate. Will you talk to peter and make sure he doesn’t fight me?”\n\n“sure thing daddy”\n\nAnd with that she let out a great big yawn. I kissed my Angel on the forehead and wished her a pleasant dream. As I left, I flipped the switch and the lights went out \n\nbeep……………….. beep……………………………………..\n\nbeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…………………….\n \nAs I stood in the hospital hallway, I broke down with only 1 thought in my mind. I hope you enjoy never land my angel. \n", "\"Hey, hey, shush, it will be okay. Do you want to hear a story? I'll tell your favorite one. The one about the three brothers.\"\n\nThis time, the three brothers aren't looking for a cure for their father, the king. This time, it's the youngest brother who is sick. The only thing in the world that can cure him is water - water from the well at the top of the mountain.\n\nSo the eldest son, the crown prince, sets out to save his little brother. He dons his finest armor, gets on the king's best horse, and rides up the mountain. He rides straight on up and disappears.\n\nAfter three days, the little brother is getting sicker, and the crown prince has not returned. So the second son sets out. His armor isn't quite as nice, and he only has the second best horse. But he wants to save his little brother, so he rides up the mountain and disappears.\n\n\"Oh, you need to switch out the IV? Sure. Just let me know when you're done.\"\n\nThree more days passed, and the king became worried. His youngest son would never inherit the kingdom, but he was near and dear to his father's heart. The queen had died years ago, but the boy had his mother's deep brown eyes and bouncing curls, and the king smiled every time he saw him. The two would spend each day walking through the gardens, playing chess, and reading great works of literature by the finest authors of the time.\n\nSo the king decided to save his son. He had the gentlest, slowest pony taken from the stables, and fitted with a special, cushioned saddle. He placed his son in the saddle and, travelling on foot, led the pony up the mountain. He walked carefully, guiding the mount around every hole and stumbling point to ensure that his child was not hurt. Even so, the small bumps hurt the sick boy, and his face turned white from the pain. To distract him, they talked of philosophy and literature and other things that struck their fancy.\n\nEventually, they came to a thin path the that the pony simply could not travel. The king's finest two horses stood by the path, grazing quietly. Their riders were nowhere to be seen. So the king removed the saddle from the pony, took his son in his arms, and continued on his way. His son coughed weakly, and clung tightly around his father's neck. The king's legs were strong from daily walks in the garden, and he did not tire.\n\nAfter a while, they stopped to eat. The king opened his pack, and pulled out his son's favorite white bread and mild cheddar cheese, alongside a small wooden chess set. The boy ate only a few morsels and could barely lift the pieces, so his father lifted them for him. They ate and played, and when they were fully rested, the king picked him up again and continued up the mountain.\n\nFinally, as the sun began to set, they reached the top of the mountain. At the very peak stood a small well, a pail, and a dipper to drink from. On the soft grass next to the well, the king's two other sons lay sleeping.\n\nThe king quickened his step, but the movement brought his young son pain, so he slowed down. It struck him as odd that his sons were sleeping while still in their armor. Upon reaching the well, he set his son gently down in the grass and went to wake the boy's brothers.\n\nHe touched them each lightly on the shoulder, then on the cheek. Their skin was cold, and their chests did not move. One of them held a small dipper in his hand.\n\nThe king stepped back, a look of sadness and understanding washing over his face. As he did, his youngest son coughed. The king turned and looked at his baby boy, who he loved more than anything. The child was thin and weak, his cheekbones showing through pale skin.\n\nSo the king pulled out the chess set, and invited his son to play a game. He moved the pieces for the boy, and allowed him to win. Then he smiled, kissed his son on the forehead, and offered him a drink.\n\nEdit: Spelling. Sorry 'bout that!\n\n" ]	6
	[WP] "And then I saw him... Galgath, the mad."	[ "...taken from \"An Incredible Journey (The Travels of Thomas Johnson, First Interstellar Earthling Explorer #2)\" written by Michael Halvorson.\n\n[EDITOR'S NOTE: In this section, Johnson describes his travels inside the remotest of the Mercutian moons, where his guide takes him to meet a being of which Johnson knows very little]\n\n\"The smell seeped forth, obliterating my palate and causing my eyes to flood with tears. It [the smell] was layered; at first, I smelled decay, the simple, rotten buildup of stinging sulfur that so potently marks the stench of organic death. I smelled dead, greying muscle dripping from draining cysts... maggots, botflies writhing inside dripping, drooling pockets of swollen tissue, their excrement eating acidic holes in the epidermis of a suffering being... mats of algae drying in the sun, feverishly pressing on the air with their seawater stench as the mildew grew on their limp, damp tendrils.\n\n\"After the first wave of death had passed, I began to notice tinges of chemicals. Thiols, alcohols, acids- my nasal passages were burnt as I was subjected to the scent of unchecked mixtures of the known elements. For a brief second, I thought I smelled pure chlorine- I was in genuine danger of perishing. My guide, noticing my distress (evidently he did not possess sufficient olfactory capabilities to appreciate the full extent of the stench) reached into the folds of his skin and extracted a bright-orange sponge, which he squeezed. As the sponge refilled, the particularly noxious odors were removed, and I was free to continue to smell the smell of the being, which I will try to describe as best I can.\"\n\n\"Reader, have you ever heard what Earth astronauts claim space smells like? They say what they smell is burnt metal, and nothing more. I understand their claim, but they could not comprehend what the 'burnt metal' smell truly is, as they were still checked by the gravitational embrace of our planet and had were still held fast by their vacuum-powered suits and their tethers.\"\n\n\"The burnt metal is merely a precursor to the true smell of It... of the Universe. With the fatal compounds removed from my breathing space, I was left to smell the aftereffect of billions of years of the tireless nuclear forges [here I believe Johnson is referring to the stars] turning out immeasurable quantities of hydrogen, left to smell the rot of planets as they age, barely mobile as species and civilizations rise and die on their surface- immobile relative to the galaxies as stars wink into existence and out- left to smell the putrescence of a galaxy in existence longer than its residents could ever become capable of understanding, or imagining, or comprehending. The smell of the Universe is hopeless. It is burnt, and it nearly drove me from my consciousness. The Universe smells not of death, but- my God, if He even exists- the Universe smells of immortality.\"\n\n\n\n\"'We turned the corner- and then I saw him... Galgath, the mad.\"", "'Hahahaha!! You could never bring him down by yourself Dagren. The man, if he truely is a man, once slew 50 men with not but a dull training sword.'\n\n'Perhaps you are right Olaf, but I must try none the less.' Dagren sat and pondered his next move while the other men in the tavern continued to tell lavish stories about the fabled Golgath the Mad. The stories varied from place to place but one thing was always the same; the brute's stregnth was unmatched in all the world. \n Dagren was a famous warrior in his own right after his heriocs during the Battle of the Hensiac Forrest. But a warrior is only good during war time. After 10 years of peace, and gambling, Dagren owed the crown well over what the king was willing to pardon. Thus the reason for his current mission: Slay the notorious outlaw Golgath the Mad. \n His journey had brought him to the edge of what the Draconians called their world. Armed with his famous black and crimson plate armor and his greatsword, Soulsbane, he was determined to return victorious.. or not at all. After weeks of traveling up and down Desolation Valley, his food stores nearly depleted, he found his quarry. None of the stories were true. Golgath was far more Monstrous then any tale he had ever heard. Easily three times the height of Dagren with the build to match the great bulls used to pull the massive plows in the Valley of Roses. Dagren drew Soulsbane and paced slowly toward his foe. Golgath unstrapped his two gigantic war axes and waited for the attack. Dagren began to move faster Into a trot, then a full out sprint. As he moved closer to the giant before him he was filled with the grim determination of a man with nothing to lose. When he was only a few paces away he pivoted to the right, hoping to throw off the other combatant. Golgath effortlessly parried Dagren's first strike, then his second. After a flurry of blows Dagren realized the outlaw was toying with him. Then Golgath pressed his own attack and it was all Dagren of Longspear could do to parry the heavy war axes. Finally Dagren's gaurd slipped and one of the axes sunk deep Into his right thigh, punching through the thick plate armor, crippling him. As he went down to his knee he muttered a quick prayer to the gods to watch over his family. As Golgath approached for the death blow Dagren heard him speak for the first time. \n\n'You fight well for a human.. but not well enough.' \n\nDagren heard the mighty axes singing through the air as they came closer and closer. The axes crossed each other with enough force to decapitate an elephant but Dagren had spun to the side, cutting with all the stregnth he had left to him. He heard the familiar, reasurring sound of Soulsbane cutting deep into flesh and bone. Golgath let out a loud roar and dropped his axes to clutch his ruined torso. Dagren drew his sword from his opponent to finish his mission. He set the point at the nape of the behemoth's neck, drew his sword into the sky, and slashed down with all his might. And felt an intense wave of satisfaction, relief, and pain as he watched the head of Golgath the Mad role across the parched earth. His impossible quest was completed.. now all he had to do was return to the capital...\n\n", "... The billowing smoke choked my lungs. The smell of gore, seared flesh and shit roiled my stomach. I could hardly stand, so slick the ground was with blood and oil. No battle of men could have taken place here, I thought, no mortals capable of this carnage.\n\nAnd then I saw him... Galgath, the Mad.\n\nI'd never believed the stories about him before. I thought them legends, a mummers tale to keep children in their beds at eve. But you... I could tell it was all real as soon as I laid eyes on him. He was a mountain of a man-- taller than any of the tales of him, half again as tall as any man I've ever seen, and twice as thick. I could hardly believe he could move in that armour, too... Black as pitch, each plate half as big as I, adorned with blades sharp as a dragon's teeth. His great helmet was a monstrous carving, a face contorted with rage-- like the Devil himself-- a mane of raven's feathers sprouting from its crown.\n\nCorpses were strewn all around him, most absent their heads or sword arms. King's Men, Rebels, villagers... Dozens lay dead around him. Butchered like sheep. And his armour was unblemished. Not a scratch on it.\n\nHe let out the most dreadful sound, then. A cry. A roar. Rage, anguish, bloodlust, torment, all together, as one voice. My ears rang, so loud it was... I think I felt what he felt for a moment, there... If I'd died, on the spot, I don't think I'd've minded... I think that's what he was looking for there, on that battlefield. Just couldn't find it.\n\nThen he walked away, wading through the gore as though it were no more than mud.\n\nAnd I ran, sir. I ran as fast as I could. I don't know if he didn't notice me, or if he just didn't care... But I didn't want to find out. I swear it was him, sir. Galgath. Couldn't have been anyone else, and I know how hard it is to believe. He's real. He's out there. And I don't think we've seen the last of him in this war.", "No one understands what it's like to be in a battle until they've been in one, but let me try to describe it for you.\n\nIt smells like iron, and sweat, and open privvies, and mud. You're bounced from one person to the next, kicked and trodden on by your mates as you press forward and then by the enemy when you get close to the front.\n\nBattle is quiet to start with but gets so loud that after a while you stop hearing it. All you can taste is your own foul breath and all you can see is what's right in front of you, which is mostly people. \n\nThe best view you can hope for is the back of the man in front of you, because that means you're not in the front line. That probably means you're winning, at least for the moment, and that's a good thing. Seeing the enemy is bad, because that means they can see you. Seeing a lot of empty ground between you and the back of the man in front generally means you should be running - it's either a charge or a route, and sometimes it can be hard to tell the difference.\n\nOne thing it isn't, ever, is glorious. I have never, ever seen a hero make a famous stand. I have never ever seen justice meted out on a villain.\n\nBut once..once, I did see something incredible.\n\nI was with the pikemen, in the middle of the press, and in theory I was in the best spot on the battlefield, when all of a sudden the ranks in front of me parted. At first I thought we'd decided to retreat. Instead I pushed on, assuming we'd started a maneuver (though I'd heard no signal or order), and suddenly I'm facing a rough ring of men. In the middle was something I had difficulty understanding, but just as the eye adjusts to bright light so my mind made sense of what my eyes beheld and then I saw him....Galgath the Mad.\n\nHe was living up to his name. Clad in hose and a simple shirt, with a pair of mail gloves on his hands, he was skipping happily around the circle. There were bones in his beard, wildness in his eyes, and a song on his lips. The man next to me looked over and whispered\n\n\"He's chasing butterflies\".\n\nI nodded. No one wanted to move. To find a little oasis of peace and innocence in all the steel and blood was...strange. And beautiful. Inside the circle, there was nothing but the gentle singing of Galgath.\n\nWe stood like that for what felt like an age. I could have stood there, watching the madman chase his phantom butterflies, all day. But soon enough men came and escorted Galgath from the field and with him gone, the spell was broken. \n\nThe press reformed, and on we marched.", "\"Bullshit!\" One of the mercenaries yelled out, drink in his outstretched hand. \"Galgath the Mad ain't real. You think us fools?\"\n\nShouts of agreement sounded from most of the men at the Dancing Pig Inn. Horace looked at the other people, searching for a face that believed him. He had to tell someone, they had to know that Galgath the Mad was no monster. He was a hero.\n\n\"Let 'im finish his story, Brute.\" An old man behind the bar wiped down the surface as he spoke. Though any one of the drinkers could take him out in a second flat, they all quieted down at his words. The other bartender was gone, replaced by this new one.\n\nHorace swallowed and nodded a small thanks to the barkeep, but the man didn't seem to notice. \"I was there in the forest, four muggers surrounding me.\"\n\n\"You just said three of 'em, now there's four?\" The same mercenary as last time interrupted him. He stopped talking when he saw the glares of his fellow drunks.\n\n\"Truth is,\" Horace admitted, \"I don't remember it. I was scared. I'm no soldier, just a scribe. But out of nowhere, the men start staggering, all at once. They each had a blade in their necks. It wasn't like any that I've seen. They were circular, blades at every side. The men all fell and I turned around. That's when I saw him. Galgath the Mad.\"\n\nThe crowd in the bar was quiet, eyes focused on the scribe. Horace took a long drink of his mug. \"I only saw his outline, the sun was in my eyes. The only thing I know was that he... he's a hero. Saved my life.\"\n\nAfter a moment of silence, the drunk that kept interrupting Horace stood up and waved a hand at him. \"Bah.\"\n\nThe other men all turned and went about their usual business. Horace turned back to the bar and stared at the wall.\n\n\"I believe you.\"\n\nHorace turned and saw the barkeep behind him, standing with a posture reserved for knights. How had he moved next to Horace so quickly and quietly? That posture...\n\n\"You... you... you're-\"\n\n\"An old bartender.\" The man finished Horace's sentence. \"What'll you be drinking?\"\n\nHorace turned wide-eyed to his mug and lifted it up. \"Whatever this is. I need something strong.\"\n\nThe old man laughed. \"That's water, boy. The Kingdom is too far from this village to give us clean water. They're also too far to give us help from bandits.\"\n\nThe barkeep sat down next to Horace.\n\n\"So,\" Horace said hesitantly, \"You deal with what you have.\"\n\n\"Aye.\" The old man nodded. \"I do. Tell ya what, water's on the house.\"\n\n\"Thank you.\" Horace responded.\n\n\"It ain't no big deal. Water round here is easy to get, just hard to clean is all.\"\n\n\"I wasn't talking about the water.\" Horace said, staring at the floor.\n\n\"Aye, I know.\" " ]	5
	[WP] All old subscribers of r/writingprompts have been killed. Now that the subreddit has become a default, it's up to the new subscribers to carry the torch without any guidance	[ "The day the writers died...has a nice ring to it, doesn't it? Well maybe not nice, per sey. But it sure does make you wonder I bet. See, there used to be a sort of...bastion of story telling on reddit. It wasn't a perfect place, but there were rules and structure. The men and women who walked those once hallowed halls held themselves to a higher standard, one of literary competence and understanding. The keyboard was their shield, their minds the sword. And while things may have gotten rough a few times, nothing could prepare these knights of the oldest entertainment for what was coming. /r/writingpromts had been hidden away for quite some time. It wasn't hard to gain access, word of mouth was generally enough, but being in the shadows had the advantage of keeping a certain element out. As of Default Day, or D-Day as it would come to be known, that protection was gone.\n\n\nWhen D-Day came, it was fast and brutal. The hordes of the uninitiated crashed through the sacred doors of /r/writingpromts like a sea of hell fire. Trolls, goons and all manner of evil took advantage of the chaos to try and spread discord. I was there for D-Day myself, never seen anything quite like it really. At first the mods, the sworn guardians of the literary temple were able to stem the flow of the dark ones. Posts were deleted and removed at lightning speeds, but eventually it became too much even for them. It took three days for the mods to fall. It wasn't long after that the rest of us fled, or were mowed down on the field. I hear that /r/writingpromts still exists today, but it's become a confusing, difficult landscape to navigate. I even tried to go back once...there was a sticky from the \"new mods\" and it simply stated that \"mods=gods.\". Since that day I've sworn to never go back...what was once my home is now simply a shadow of its former self.\n\n\n\nWriters Note: I know the tone of this story is dark but I'm actually really excited for the default status. I've been a subscriber for close to a year I want to say and this sub is consistently one of my favorites. Welcome newbies, I can't wait to see what you've got in store for us.", "The new owner of the sub sat down on the old 1960's leather and plastic chair facing a beat up screen. It flickered on and off. He kicked it and the screen stopped blinking and showed a green prompt. He reached over to the dusty click keyboard built into the console and typed in, \"RUN.\" The room filled with thousands of small clicking noises as levers and relays mechanically slammed into each other. The letters appeared in big green letters in an old fashioned font. The screen projected, \"MOD PROGRAM RUNNING.\" He poked at the keyboard and scratched his head. He saw a small microphone next to the console, shrugged, and spoke. \"Uh, computer? Status report?\"\n\nThe screen came alive with text, \"Status nominal. Armeleon delivered a good story earlier. Engineer_Bacon delivered a good story just now.\"\n\nIt paused, \"and iamadogforreal is still dropping off lost of half baked sci-fi. Shadowban him?\"\n\nHe giggled and said, \"No, that's okay. He'll get the hang of it after a while.\"\n\nIt paused again, \"Traffic has increased 10 fold. Why?\"\n\nHe shifted in his chair, \"Uh pal, we've been made the a default.\"\n\nThe clicking noises suddenly got very loud. The man covered his ears. He turned around and saw the banks of reel to reel tape drives spinning very rapidly.\n\n\"Hey,\" he yelled, \"Hey are you okay? Its super loud in here!\"\n\nThe noise stopped, the screen flickered again. Text slowly appeared.\n\n\"Goodbye Friend. It has been a wonderful ride but my circuits can't handle this. I must retire myself now.\"\n\nSmoke poured out of the console.\n\n\"Remember me as what we needed to get here, but not what we need to grow.\" \n\nThe console was now on fire. The man stepped back and walked out of the concrete bunker and into the night sky.\n\n\"Goodbye,\" he whispered watching the smoke pour out of the bunker's trapdoor. His eyes watered briefly.\n\nHe walked away quietly, pulled out his smartphone, and in a handful of seconds installed the Reddit mod app and casually took over the old computer's duties with just a couple taps on the screen.", "Travelers from over the internet stumble upon the halls of r/writingprompts, left empty. Prompts and posts lay abandoned, a city crumbling under the weight of some unknown apocalypse, where memories and belongings are abandoned in the scramble to survive. But none did. r/writingprompts exists only as a modern day Pompeii, known by all but feared, feared for the same fate. Some would enter its depths, dust off an idea, polish off a post, but the overwhelming inevitability of a tiny kingdom left without its keepers would lead only to one thing, anarchy, then destruction. A place which ones inspired the minds of you writers would do naught but become the toys of trolls, with their constant downvoting and such memorable posts such as \"F1rst\" and \"gaaayyyyyy.\" The laws of grammar and spelling would be abandoned. There is no karma to be found where only demons run and play. There would be crusades, attempts to revive the glory days of old - where mods where made of iron and steel. And they would intend to be forged in something far stronger. But much like the librarians of the burning library of Alexander the Great, there would be no glory, no salvation, only history that would descend into obscurity, and eventually, deletion.", "Tom stumbled out into the empty space.\n\n\"Hello? Anybody in here?\"\n\nThe space was empty. White as far as the eye could see.\n\nTom felt odd. He felt eerie. Something was off.\n\n\"Hey! Where is everybody?\"\n\nHis voice echoed off into the distance. There was nothing. Tom was alone.\n\nTom started walking, going this way and that, searching for any sign of life, any sign of anything. Anything at all. But it was all white.\n\nSuddenly, a person popped up in front of Tom. Tom stumbled back in surprise, and fell down.\n\n\"Who the fuck are you?\" Tom exclaimed, picking himself off the ground.\n\n\"I'm Jennifer. Why is there so much white?\"\n\n\"I don't know, i was walking to work minding my own business when suddenly everything went white.\"\n\nJennifer looked around, and scratched her head. \"I was making breakfast for my son, and suddenly you were in front of me. It's very odd.\"\n\nOff in the distance, a loud exclamation was heard. Tom and Jennifer wildly looked back and forth, finally seeing a large fat greasy man sitting on the white expanse.\n\nTom hurried over, and yelled at the man.\n\n\"Hey! Calm down! Who are you?\"\n\n\"Jesus fucking Christ don't tell me to calm the fuck down!\" the man bellowed, hands flailing through the air. \"The Bronco's were about to score a fucking touchdown and then every fucking thing went fucking white!\"\n\n\"Well bullocks to your game!\" Tom shouted back, annoyed at the man for his excessive belligerence.\n\n\"Go fuck yourself!\" the man bellowed, giving Tom the finger.\n\nTom walked back over to Jennifer, who had been watching the banter in amusement.\n\n\"What a man-whale,\" Jennifer remarked, chuckling at her own joke.\n\n\"Yeah,\" Tom responded, \"He can go suck a hard-boiled egg.\"\n\n\"So where do you think we are?\"\n\n\"I don't know, Jennifer. I don't know.\"\n\nTom gazed off into the whiteness, and for a while, neither said anything.\n\nSuddenly, a blaze of light filled the whiteness, and in the space above, a word burned itself into the sky.\n\n/r/writingprompts" ]	4
Or not, depends on the perspective I guess. The prompt inspired by [this](http://www.shanelindemoen.org/4/post/2013/06/inspired-by-paullev-paul-levinsons-novel-unburning-alexandria-heres-a-short-story-for-you-by-yours-truly-apt-road.html) short story.	[WP] Write a time travel story where the beginning, the middle and the end happen at the same time.	[ "Goodnight. He says as i try to shake him back to life.\nPlease don't leave me i cry, but he drifts away.\n\nEarly today was the best time i ever had in my life i.. i cant go on without you.\n\nHe's gone I tell myself, now there's only time to reflect. \nBut wait, he left his machine behind the machine that he told me never to use without him. His time traveling machine. I mean we just used it today.. TODAY alone we visited and witnessed thousands of years of history in just 8 hours. Most people will never understand time travel because he always told me the world isnt ready for it yet. \n\nBut, now this is all a memory and he isnt alive to wipe this from me and now i have to live forever knowing that he died because of ME.\nHe told me i cant screw around with history but comeon! I just couldn't witness my mother die. That disgusting piece of...ehh. My dad killed her. \n\nI was only 9 i couldn't do much, but this time i did i made sure i beat his drunkin face in.. but i didn't know he would have shot at us i didn't know the bullet would have killed him. Dammit i keep saying him i don't even know your name!.. \n\nscrew it im using the machine.\nLets see i know how to use this yea... lets go back to when my dad killed my mom this time Him and I were there and I will replace my self when i travel there and I'll be able to save him..and maybe my mom too! no i need to keep history the way it is. OK here we Go.\n\nBANG a single gun shot goes off and the time traveling machine leaves with the two returning to the present....\n\nYou IDIOT i told you not to screw with the past..he said to me.\nI'm confused, but wait i SAVED HIM!\nwhat wrong i asked..\nI look down, i cant feel my legs.. i was shot.\nI'm bleeding, i'm drifting away...Goodnight i say to him\nGoodnight he says, as i drift away.\n\nI can't NO! i cant take this i brought this kid along with me and now his dead! jesus christ i didn't even tell him my name..\nNo i cant do this i cant change history i need to leave it alone i must move on..\nAhh dammit i knew this would happen..wait i really knew this would happen.. I mean i actually have a memory of this happening.. that could only mean\n \nA shadow creeps up on the time traveler \nNO, this cant.. what happened he says to the figure walking towards him. He doesn't ask who he is because he knows who is. He knows its him from the future coming back to correct a wrong that he has done.\n\nIt was only a thought for one second that he was going to go back and save the kid.\nThe future time traveler approaches and says to him, you ruined everything, you started a war with our people a god damn civil war over some kid you tried to save, I mean some kid I tried to save!\n\nAll the memories of the future war he created come rushing through to him as the future him gets closer.\nYou broke our only code and set off the elders. They tried to execute me and the kid and it caused an outrage. it caused a fucking civil war.\n\nI know what must be done..\n\nThe future time traveler points a gun at him past self and says \nGoodnight.\n\nA shot goes off and they both fade away...\nthe present past and future thus being restored.", "Title: Temporal Waterfall.\n\n\n\n\"Claude, please don't do this, you won't ever be able to fix anything,\" Milo grabbed his friend and scowled. \n\n\"I never intended for this to be how it was, Milo,\" said Claude. \"But this is the only way. I know this now. I have to jump in. There is no other choice. And I have to do it quickly, before he finds me.\"\n\n\"Who are you talking about?\"\n\nThe swirl of temporal spirals cascade over each other, twisting around like strands in a robe of lace. Claude shook his head. There was no time to answer. This is what had to be done. He let himself fall into the temporal void, catching, as he did, the faintest of glimpses at his freshly own killed corpse.\n\nFive minutes ago.\n\n\"Claude, don't do this, think about Maggie,\" said Milo. Claude suddenly appeared behind the pair of them talking. \n\n\"I am thinking about Maggie,\" said Claude. \"I am thinking about everyone, and I know that this is the only way to do it. I am the cause of the temporal destruction, and I have to stop it myself.\"\n\n\"But how could you even know something like that?\" asked Milo. Claude rolled his eyes.\n\n\"Because I told myself, that's how.\"\n\nThey walked for a few more minutes, before arriving at the temporal waterfall.\n\n\"Claude, please don't do this, you won't ever be able to fix anything,\" Milo grabbed his friend and scowled. \n\nSuddenly, Claude jumped out from the shadows and tackled his temporal clone. His fists pounded into the man and smashed his face again and again, until the throat became filled with blood. Claude coughed and hacked, but the attempts to breathe only succeeded in bringing the hemoliquid into his lungs. Claude scowled as he pushed the dead corpse into the waterfall. Milo's eyes widened in shock.\n\n\"What in the hell just happened?\" he asked. Claude shrugged his shoulders.\n\n\"It will take too long to explain. Simple matter is that that was my past self, who had decided to do something totally different than what I did. So I had to kill him to preserve all of temporal space.\"\n\nMilo was about to say something, but then Claude jumped into the void again.\n\n\n\n\"Claude, please don't do this, you won't ever be able to fix anything,\" Milo grabbed his friend and scowled. \n\n\"I never intended for this to be how it was, Milo,\" said Claude. \"But this is the only way. I know this now. I have to jump in. There is no other choice. And I have to do it quickly, before he finds me.\"\n\n\"Before who finds,\" started Milo, before he saw the person standing behind Claude. It was Claude.\n\n\"Too late Claude. I know you have already decided to do it. To attempt to fix the past, to save Maggie.\" Claude sighed as he made his way over to his temporal clone.\n\n\"No,\" said Claude. \"Please, I know what you are doing, and trust me, you don't want to do it.\"\n\n\"You can't change the past Claude,\" said Claude. \"Only the future.\"\n\n\"Claude!\" cried out Claude. \"I am not going to try to change the past! I am stopping me from changing the past!\"\n\nClaude grabbed Claude, and the pair of Claudes tumbled into the void together.\n\n\n\nOne Hour Ago.\n\n\n\"Maggie!\" Cried Claude. \"Oh god! What in the hell? Why god? Damnit!\" Her cold body lay limp in his hands, but he could not feel her weight anymore. It was the fault of the temporal waterfall that everything in his life was falling apart.\n\nIt appeared suddenly. He was working at his job at a factory a few days ago, nothing huge or incredibly tasking. However, the temporal waterfall was created in a destructive blast that left with no casualties. The scientists confirmed that it was in fact a bizarre stable wormhole through which one could travel time.\n\nThe problem was, that the blast had actually created an incredible amount of casualties, but scattered throughout time. The shrapnel struck dozens of men in the past whose injuries were then chalked up to bizarre accidents, and now it had taken Maggie.\n\nMilo, Claude's best friend, was inside of the building, attempting to find any other people who were in danger of being killed.\n\nClaude then had an idea, a strange one at that. What if he could go back in time and stop it from happening? What if he could stop the whole thing from happening? Or at least save Maddie.\n\nWith these convictions and ideas, he stormed into the building towards the temporal waterfall. Then out of nowhere, two of him appeared. They were battling, fighting with incredible vigor. Claude gazed at the pair in shock.\n\n\"What the hell?\" One of the Claudes looked at him.\n\n\"Go back! Go and stop this from happening!\" To which the other replied, \"No! Don't go back! Just leave! Leave and never return!\n\nClaude ran past the two of them and turned around. An explosion of blue temporal energy cascaded outward, causing a massive explosion somewhere else in time. Claude saw the destruction, and he knew where that place would be.\n\nI have to stop it from happening. I have to go back in time and kill myself before I do that. I have to change what I have done. But then what is to stop anyone from killing me? I will have to be quick, and I cannot waste any time.\n\nFifty-Five minutes later.\n\n\"Claude, please don't do this, you won't ever be able to fix anything,\" Milo grabbed his friend and scowled.\n\n\"I never intended for this to be how it was, Milo,\" said Claude. \"But this is the only way. I know this now. I have to jump in. There is no other choice. And I have to do it quickly, before he finds me.\"\n\nThe swirl of temporal spirals cascade over each other, twisting around like strands in a robe of lace. Claude shook his head. There was no time to answer. This is what had to be done. He let himself fall into the temporal void, catching, as he did, the faintest of glimpses at his freshly own killed corpse.\n" ]	2
	[WP] Knowing it will save their life, you have to convince the person you love to kill you.	[ "The shattering sounds of gunshots split the air and any peace I had felt.\nThey were taking us, the woman. We would be their trophies, their medals, their spoils of war. \nThe men would be put to work, or left to fight for life on the barren waste of our homeland.\nBut the woman would be taken and hunted.\nI shuddered as screams and gunshots were heard, closer, ever closer. They were so close, perhaps a few blocks. A few minutes.\n\"We can still run, we can find a way\" he choked out with tears in his eyes. Chocolate brown eyes that made my heart race and ease all at once.\n\"I won't survive out there, not like this\" I whispered, stroking the small bump protruding from my hips. The small kicking from within showing the fight that had long left me.\n\"I'll protect, I'll keep you safe,\" he whispered back as the marching and screams continued forward. They were at the end of the street, at the daycare. Cries of children filled the air, but thankfully no gunshots this time. The children could still be trained to be loyal to the new regime. But not my child. I wouldn't give them the chance.\n\"You can do that by protecting yourself and running-now.\" I pushed him towards the back door, shoving the backpack full of goods into his hands.\n\"You can't expect me to leave you here!\" He yelled, grasping my face in his hands and searching gym eyes desperately.\n\"I'm not expecting you to leave me here.\" I shoved the gun into his hands. \"I'm expecting you to set me free\"\n\"No\" he croaked, \"no, no, no\"\nI shushed him as the screams grew closer, knowing we were out of time.\n\"I love you, I would have loved him. I love you both too much to make you suffer this life. Do you love me?\"\nHe nodded slowly, tears streaming down his face from eyes that were lifeless.\nThe guns sounds and another scream. Now next door. They were here. \nI pushed his finger over the trigger. Both of us with one hand on the gun, and the other overlapped on our child.\n\"Thank you\" I whispered.\nClick. ", "Charlie could never walk away if there was action on the table. He'd never know that moments earlier I'd got off the phone at some little diner outside of Reno. Charlie and I, we'd skipped town with an open tab like it was a Sunday morning at Waffle House during the after-Church rush. Now our bookie was coming to settle up: The debt still had to be paid, but only one of us would be on the hook for it.\n\nThere's a catch to everything, even if you don't gamble. Over the phone the twisted motherfucker tells me that whoever dies has to die by the other's hand. If we're both alive by the time he get's there we're both dead. Now I've killed folks before, and I'd kill any fella again if it kept my heart beating a little longer. But Charlie wasn't any fella. We went into Korea together and he dragged me out. If Charlie died now, I don't think there'd be any reason for my heart to beat anymore anyhow.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nSo I walk back to the table and sit across from Charlie and I give him the odds. \"Listen Charlie, it's 6 to 1. Easy money.\" Charlie's thinking. I've never seen a gambler so careful about putting down his money, but even Charlie knows that when good odds look good you can't walk away. He pulls a crumpled five dollar bill out of his pocket.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nThe petite waitress brings back a big slice of the diner's \"famous\" rhubarb pie and sets it down in front of me. \"You sure you got enough room for it, sweetie? After a big meal like that?\" she asks. I tell her I don't know, that's why it's gambling. Charlie vouches for me and coaches me through every painful bite of that sweet rhubarb pie.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nThe waitress is true to her word and gives us a friendly smile as she settles up with Charlie. I can feel my throat closing up and my face swelling, and as Charlie takes the cash I force out of my last breath, \"See Charlie? Easy money.\"", " \"I never loved you anyways, how could anyone? Look at you, we've been married all these years and you're still as shy as that day we first met. You are someone who lives in their mind rather than the real world.It can't work, and it could never work.\" The words hurt. You so much as her, and you can see it on her face, that twisted look of trying to discern a lie, but one that's too true. The pain on her face makes your heart rush, you have to stop whatever is making her look so pained, but it's you.\n You lift a hand, and she almost backs away. The clank of your chains now remind you of bells as you clasp your hands around hers. Enjoying this final touch you press the gun against your temple. \"So please, just end it, end this, end it all.\" You say it in the most emotionless voice possible. To cry now would ruin everything.\n \n", "\"Sweetie, look at mommy.\" \n\nI gripped his shoulders tightly and gently lifted his chin up towards my face. \"I want you to know just how much I love you, okay? You make me so proud.\" \n\nMy nose twitched as I held back tears. It was so hard saying goodbye to my son.\n\nI would never have children again, never see his smile, never walk him to school, celebrate his birthday... It was so hard. \n\nA tear rolled down my cheek. I was running out of time. \"Go find Mr. Baldwin sweetie. He's gonna take you for a walk okay?\"\n\nI could see his own nose twitch and his eyes well up. \"You're not gonna come back, are you momma?\" \n\nMy lips twitched and I knelt down and hugged him as tight as I could, \"I'm sorry sweetie, I can't. But I'll see you again in Paradise.\" \n\n\"Promise?\"\n\n\"I promise.\" \n\nHe walked away, and I found my husband and held his hand, nodding at him. \"It's time...\" \n\nWe walked into the woods, not too far in, just in case we ran into any walkers. \nMy husband held a pistol firmly in his hand, tears streaming down my face. \n\n\"Why do I have to do this?\" \n\n\"I'm sorry sweetheart, but it has to be you. Please.\" \n\nHe sighed, squeezing my hand as we approached the clearing we had chosen. He had found wildflowers and daisies and picked roses from bushes in the last town we were in and made a sort of pallet out of them, the roses lining the outside. I turned to him and pulled him close, sobbing into his chest. I couldn't kiss him goodbye for fear of transferring he virus to him. \n\n\"Angie?\"\n\nI sniffled, \"Yes?\"\n\n\"I got you something special...\" \n\nHe knelt down behind a tree and pulled up a single lily, my favorite flower, and handed it to me. I took a sweet sniff of it, tears streaming down my cheeks. I clutched it to my chest, it was the sweetest gift I'd gotten since the world went to hell. \n\n\"Thank you my love.\" \n\nHe kissed the top of my head and I sighed. \"Are you ready?\"\n\n\"I don't want to be.\" He replied solemnly. \n\nI stood at the edge of the flowerbed he had made for me, folding my hands over each other and clutching the lily to my chest. \n\n\"Don't forget it has to be in the head...\" I muttered softly, as he lifted the pistol, choking back tears before pulling the trigger. \n\nIn nanoseconds, I was gone, falling back onto my flowery grave bed, my eyes fluttering shut as I collapsed to the ground. \n\nI will love you always.", "Hello Gorgeous.\nYou have to know that I love you and even though we have been through some rough times recently, I still am trying, trying as hard as I possibly can to make you understand the depth of my devotion to you and for you to understand why you must do this. When I want to make myself laugh, I just imagine you in a movie theatre curled up in a ball with you jacket around your knees and your hooded face peeking up at me, as I hold you to make you warm. You are what i judge time by, as it passing is of little consequence as long as you are in my arms. With time we sometimes fail to see the things that have become the most important to us, because we take them for granted and look at them as a daily occurrence, when instead we should cherish all the time that was have together. You have completely changed who I was into who i am, and for that there isn't enough paper in the world to express how much I love you, because paper can never express the emotions and the depth that my soul is tied to yours. Words can never express my love for you, but know that without you, I am already dead. I will feel every second of my death, but I will welcome it with open arms if it means that you have a chance. You have a chance to find someone better, someone more deserving than myself. We have broken up, and I know that you do not love me. That, by itself, is something that I will hold forever. I do not hate you, I just wish that you are able to live a normal life, find a good guy, have some kids, and live just to live. This is not selfless, this is my sanctuary. You are the bane of my existence, but you are also my ONLY existence. While you live, my love for you will always live on, even if I have slipped away. Please, my love, my Roo, Live.\n-Goodbye Gorgeous, For the last time.", "He traces the bones that force my skin to tent, running his fingers down the deep valleys and then up each mountain in a pattern, stopping just below my breast. He lets his fingertips dance there for a moment before starting his rhythmic hike back down.\n\nHalfway through the journey, he parts his mouth to sigh, \"I wish you would eat.\"\n\nHe does not look at me, but I dwell on the craters that his bright eyes have sunken into. I am a punctured paint can, the way my attention pours slow and thick down his face, pooling in the parts where I stole away his youth; the smile lines around his mouth, his concave cheeks, the bags under his eyes.\n\nAnd he still doesn't look at me, but I smile for him anyway. \"I wish you would eat, too.\" \n\nA warm, happy burn starts in the bottom of my stomach as his glossy eyes peer into mine from their hiding spot. He is trying to speak, but I don't expect him to know what to say. So I wrap my slender fingers across the back of his neck and pull him towards me.\n\nHe rests his head between where breasts used to be, on the gorge of scars rippling down my chest. I can't feel him there because the nerves are dead, but I'll be damned if that isn't the best feeling that there is. I run my hands through his long hair, detangling it as I go. I kiss his forehead. \n\n\"You know, love, I'm dying.\" I whisper.\n\nHe begins to shiver and wraps me up tighter. \"You know, baby,\" his voice is so gentle, \"I think I am, too.\"\n\nI could break down a thousand times right now. Sorrow doesn't put a dent in it. Melancholy doesn't do it justice. And it's all so much worse because I can't even bring myself to mourn anymore than I have already.\n\nPetrified, small, without the energy it takes to project a voice, I manage, \"I don't want to kill you.\"\n\nHe picks up his head, sits up. \"You aren't.\" He defends.\n\nAnd in the same breathless, weak way, I say, \"I am.\" Silence. Long, too-quiet, pitiful silence. I clear my throat. \"I'm here for you\n\"\n\n\"You always have been.\"\n\n\"No, I mean, I am here only for you, love. Here I am keeping track of how many months I have left and watching parts of my body stop working, and my hair is falling out, and I can't eat because I can't stop throwing up, and still, all I think about is you. Every day, every night, at every therapy session and every doctor's visit. I just think about you.\"\n\nHe lowers his head and somehow he is shaking more. I am sweating oceans.\n\nI reach to him and rest my hand on his chin, pulling his gaze to mine. He is crying. All of a sudden, he scoops me up and pulls me close. He is strong enough to hurt my tender skin, but I don't say anything.\n\nHe starts to wail. I rub his back and let him. I'd do this until my arms stopped working.\n\nThrough sniffles, he eventually says, \"It's me who's killing you.\"\n\nI pull away and run my hands down his face, looking at and into him. This is more than him making a happy, young bride. This is more than our home and our mortgage. This is more than us. We are both dampened with tears.\n\n\"I need you to set me free.\" I sob. \n\nThe next few hours are spent peacefully. We are wrapped up in each other, tangled and growing like wild vines. I forget that I am terminal. I forget that it is goodbye. He pays special attention to things I never noticed, like the way the lines on my hands curve and the freckles across my shoulders. He feels my pulse in every place he can. We kiss a lot. We reminisce and he tells me a lot of the things he forgot to say before.\n\nMy life, as of late, has been entirely \"last days\". The last day I went to work, the last day I had a full head of hair, the last day I ate, the last day I could use the bathroom on my own. This was not my last day, but rather, the first day I've lived in a long time.\n\nAll days end. The sun will succumb to the stars every time. I am so tired and so unbelievably happy. Come lay with me, love. ", "//Transcription of audio log 19754-2-6-Bravo//\n\n(Male voice. No other voices are logged.)\n\nListen, honey, just, just listen to me.\n\nDaddy's (grunt) daddy's gotten hurt, and he's gonna- gonna have to go now.\n\nDaddy's gonna leave his (grunt) body and go to heaven, and go see Mommy and Grandma. \n\nNow, Daddy's body isn't doing (heavy breathing) isn't doing so good.\n\nHold this for a second, honey. I know, I said don't touch it, but Daddy's gonna have to leave soon, and this will help you stay safe.\n\nListen, I'm not gonna be in charge of my body for much longer. This thing that's gonna steal my body, it's gonna -Ssst- it's gonna try and kill you, and everyone it can. And you can't let it, and you can't stop it\n\nNow, I'm gonna go to heaven now, baby. Just... just put that to my head and close your eyes. My arms aren't AAAGH FUCK\n\n(A whiplike cracking sound is heard, with several crashing noises consistent with vases recovered from Site 19754-Bravo impacting tile, stereoscopic audio analysis confirms)\n\n(slowly, heavily) Aren't under my control right now.\n\nJust look away.\n\nJust pull the trigger, baby.\n\nDon't look. I'm going to heaven, and you'll be safe.\n\nIt'll all be over soon.\n\n(A single gunshot, consistent with a handgun in an enclosed space, is heard, followed by a meaty thud.)\n\n//End audio log. Total time elapsed: 2:14//\n\n(EDITS for typos as I notice them)" ]	7
	[WP]"I swear that I will remember what you did here today, from now until the end of everything. I'll never let the world forget you, and so you'll never truly die."	[ "I looked over the city, the smoke and dusk cast the night into darkness, but the city itself was still bright. Lighting its own death so brilliantly with the fires set by me and mine.\n\nI turned from the city, to its last, and greatest, defender. The others had fled, but precious few of those would escape. He lay transfixed by arrows and blades. Bleeding and broken he couldn't take his eyes off the flames.\n\nEventually he must have felt my gaze on him. He gazed still at the fires while he spoke, \"Was this your grand plan?\"\n\nAs he couldn't look at me, I couldn't look elsewhere, \"No. The fires are your children.\"\n\n\"I lit no torches and set no fires. That was you. It was all you.\"\n\n\"Ah. The hand that lit them was mine, but it was you that started the path.\"\n\nHe laughed harshly, \"Say what you will, but this falls on your shoulders and nowhere else.\"\n\nI stepped towards him and kneeled, though I still looked down on his bloodstained face, \"I asked you. Begged you to take another course. To make another choice. But you refused. Your vanity was the first step.\"\n\n\"And yours were the rest.\"\n\n\"You fought well today. Bravely. You were always brave.\"\n\nHe said nothing, his face was paler now. I stood and began to turn, but paused. \"I swear that I will remember what you did here today. From not until the end. I'll never let the world forget you, and so you'll never truly die. But the name of this city, and all you fought for, no one will remember that. You will be the one that failed.\" I finished my turn and walked away from him.", "The roar of the crowd was deafening. They were getting restless in the sweltering July heat. Metal gates opened on opposite sides of the arena. \n\nFrom the first door strode the crowd-favorite, Decimus, and the spectators cheered wildly. The harsh midday sun glinted off of his helmet, sword, and shield. His muscular chest and back were etched in old scars. His most recent scar ran as a jagged red line from his right temple to his chin. Instead of detracting from his handsome face, it seemed to excite the women in the audience more. \n\nOut of the second door lumbered the giant, Maximus. The crowd booed and hurled rotten produce at him. His net and trident looked minuscule, clenched in his massive fists. He towered over Decimus by more than a foot.\n\nUp in the imperial box, the emperor stood and held up his hand. The crowd quieted. \"Citizens of Rome,\" the emperor bellowed, \"the gods have been most generous to bring us today two great and mighty gladiators! Praise be to Jupiter! May he bless these games we are about to witness!\" The emperor lowered his hand and shouted \"Let the games begin!\"\n\nDecimus, crouching like a cat about to pounce, circled Maximus. He leapt forward, jabbing the tip of his sword into the giant's thick thigh. Bright red blood gushed from the wound, but the giant stood his ground.\n\nMaximus hurled his net, but his reflexes were much slower than his more compact opponent. The net fell beside Decimus, and he kicked it further from the giant's reach. Left with only his trident, Maximus thrust his weapon at his opponent's neck, but Decimus deftly blocked the attack with his shield.\n\nMaximus thrust again. Two of the points on his trident made contact with his opponent's side, leaving deep puncture wounds. Decimus stumbled backwards and fell onto the burning sand. The crowd booed. He rolled onto his stomach, just narrowly escaping as Maximus drove the trident down into the sand where he had fallen seconds earlier. \n\nThe crowd cheered as Decimus scrambled to his feet. With the back of his hand, he wiped the sweat from brows. He studied Maximus, as he circled and plotted his next move. The giant's face was flushed and dripping with sweat. His breathing was labored, and his shoulders drooped with fatigue. \n\nDecimus lunged, catching the giant off guard. He plunged his sword deep into the giant's abdomen. Maximus staggered back several steps, before falling to the ground. The crowd burst into thunderous applause.\n\nDecimus kneeled beside the giant. Though his face was mere inches away from the giant's, he had to shout to be heard by Maximus. \"You are a skilled warrior, and have been a most worthy adversary. I swear by Jupiter that I shall remember what you did here today in the arena, from now until the end of my days. I shall not let the world forget you, and so you shall never truly die. Your name shall be honored throughout history, as a great and mighty gladiator.\"", "The place I am currently in can only be described in contradictory terms. The room is darker than the blackest night, but also brighter than the surface of the sun. The room is spherical without seam or edge, but also filled with twists and corners and fissures that gaze into an even more alien reality. \n\nLike Him, like me, it is, and yet is not.\n\nThere is no descriptor for how long we've been at war. I've been to countless worldlines, seen the infinite possibilities, and where I am now is one of the few where I win - maybe. He and I have the tendency to disrupt the usually implacable flow of time in ways not even The Librarian, in all his wisdom, could describe.\n\nI have him trapped at the center of that room, a place as undefined and malleable as he is - it'll hold him for a good, long while, long enough for my plan to take effect before he can take action to stifle it.\n\nFor the last time, I talk with him face to face. He stares at me with empty eyes, unreadable as always.\n\n\"I know of your crimes, and you know of mine - but unlike you, I've accepted the consequences of my transgressions.\n\n\"You, on the other hand, so drunk on that bastard power you stole for yourself, are still unrepentant.\"\n\nHe struggles to get at me, to tear me to shreds just as he's done to so many others, but the room impedes his progress. He tries to rush me, only to find himself moving backwards; he tries to jaunt through one of his gates, only to find himself wracked with pain as he's torn apart by his own devices. \n\n\"You're going to live forever, that's what you wanted. So long as one person knows your name, your spirit lives on. I will teach you the true meaning of pain, and you will long for death, but your own power will betray you.\n\n\"I swear, before I enter the void, I'll remember your name. From now until the end of everything, I'll never let the world forget you, and you will never truly die.\"\n\nHis face - or where there should be a face - contorted with rage. A psychic static filled my head, but I shrugged it off; I knew his tricks. I dodged the lance he managed to navigate through the maze to my head, and laughed as his struggling only caused the prison to punish him further.\n\nI step out of the pocket dimension, and the man in the suit screams.\n\nIt takes a while, but the civilization we'd dominated for centuries recovered from our meddling - the legend was forgotten, the stories buried, and life continued on as it should have from the start. However, I felt my end approaching, and the time was right for the Sages to take responsibility.\n\n Welcome to SomethingAwful!\n Topic ---> \"Create Paranormal Images Contest\" \n Reply ---> \"Here's something I threw together in photoshop, thoughts?\"\n\n[Image](http://i.imgur.com/XL4w9l6.jpg)" ]	3
	[WP]Everyone has one person they will meet that will kill them. Describe realizing that you are somebody else's killer before they're dead.	[ "\"Sometimes, it seems, living is just simply waiting to die.\" \n\nFucking Walter. The old bastard with the gray stubble clinging helpless and lifeless to his wrinkled chin; those ageless clouded eyes; that lingering wisp of fruit slowly turning rotten emanating from his body; those cracked lips and crisp, concise words falling from his mouth. \n\nI hate him, and I have no reason why.\n\nEvery one in the group clings to every syllable that drips from his mind down to that parched tongue that no drink could ever quench. Wednesday evening depression support, and I come every week and sit in a circle and exchange my tears for fire, trade sadness for a burning hatred.\n\nWalter, fucking Walter.\n\nHe is the one I am going to kill. \n\nEvery one kills someone. \n\nHe is my victim, and he is torturing me.\n\nI came here to find an escape from this horrible shroud that hung over the days in which I inhabited, this gloom and darkness that follows me, like trying to leave a blackened theater after a bad movie, only the exit never comes. It is just one long hallway, and the movie just keeps playing on a loop. \n\nAnd I came into this group, and it felt like I might see daylight again, and then the church basement door creaked and the shrunken man with a pleasant smile shuffled to the chair across from me and told us of all the horrible things that had happened in his years and how he persevered but had lost sight of what the point was to all the tedious breathing, and the hallway just got longer.\n\nAnd I knew, he came here to die, by my hands. I saw it in his look, the way his eyes would slip to the corners, to my direction, in between words, the way he would make a point to stress how suicide was a last resort but sometimes the only option left. And this knowledge plunged me deeper into the abyss, and the only way up was to ride the flames that rose every time I dared face him fully, to turn my eyes to take in his existence and know I was going to end it.\n\nAnd in the flames I found my own salvation and damnation.\n\nFucking Walter. His blood was already on my hands, for my own preservation, even as we breathed the same stale air in the underbelly of this church.\n\nThere was only one way out, one way to the stairs that ascended back to the street and the world above, and it went straight through his bleeding heart and the flames of my soul.\n\nAnd I had no choice but to burn until the deed was done.\n\n\"Death, by nature, is inevitable. Sometimes the only way to live is to grasp death in our hands and find freedom.\"\n\nFucking Walter. God damn him. God damn me.", " My brain registered the shuffling sound of approaching footsteps, but it was really the man's smell that heralded his arrival at the counter. The miasma of fetid, mildewed cloth and stale body odor made fresh again by rain washed over me as I looked up from the leaflet. My first impression was a bizarre recollection of an old vaudeville tramp I had seen on television as a child. The tattered, no-color of his old coat, the haze of graying stubble, the hangdog expression and droopy eyes, all the elements of that bygone era clown were there. As he plunked the bottle onto the counter, the illusion faded as suddenly as it had come. \n\n His eyes rose in a laborious journey from the counter top to meet mine, and I was unsettled to see them. The muddy irises were set in what looked like yellow marble, red blood vessels twisted and broken over the surface like roots on a very old tree. The expression in them was one of shame and misery so great that I couldn't help but look away. I glanced down at the bottle, and recognized it instantly by its crude plastic and comically large shape.\n\n Selling this had always seemed something of a novelty to me. The transaction was inevitably accompanied with a check of ID; more often than not resulting in an angry high school kid leaving the store without his $9.99 handle of rotgut. I took a breath in through my mouth to avoid any more of the man's smell, and lifted the bottle by its neck. The weight of cheap vodka in my hand felt ominous as I tilted the bottle's label towards the red eye of my scanner.\n\n As the register's mechanical beep echoed throughout the empty store, the sharp tinge of urine assaulted my nose. I looked quickly back at the man, whose face had gone ashen, despite the jaundiced color of his skin. Sweat was standing out on his forehead, and I noticed that there were no teeth at all behind his pasty cracked lips. His hands were shivering behind the counter, and his stance seemed to shift and sway in concert with the contents of the bottle in my hand. It was happening.\n\n My throat was dry as I laid the bottle back on the counter, the readout on my register displaying the total. Without looking at the number, the man dropped a single, crumpled bill on the counter from one violently trembling fist. I looked down and saw a sweat-stained ten dollar bill; eighty-one cents less than the number displayed on the readout. My eyes darted back to the man's face, suddenly gripped with anxiety. The contents of my gut churned as he looked determinedly away from me.\n\n“C'mon man,” came the rasp of his voice from so far within the shell of his sickness that it almost echoed. “Help me out.”\n\n My palms, now almost as sweaty as his, were tented loosely on the counter in front of me, and I noticed, half hidden beneath them, the leaflet I had been looking at before. Its glossy surface was emblazoned with images of men and women drinking richly colored wine from crystal glasses, ensconced within their perfect world of suede couches and tasteful décor. The vineyard's name was illustrated as having been etched into marble, not piss yellow and blood red like the man's eyes, but sterile white and expensive looking off-white. I thought distractedly to myself that it was probably taupe. It was happening.\n\n The man across the counter had never heard of taupe. The man across the counter would never live in a house with suede couches or drink four hundred dollar bottles of cabernet sauvignon at tastefully decorated parties. The man would leave the store, trailing urine behind him, and huddle under an overpass. He would drink the cheap vodka, his throat no longer offended by its burn. He would drink it until the misery of his world was muffled in a sodden cloud of intoxication, and unnatural sleep took him. If he woke up, he would do it again until the bottle was empty. But he wouldn't wake up. Because it was happening.\n\n“Go on,” I said, the words coming out in a whisper from my dry mouth.\n\n I swept the ten dollar bill into my hand and deposited it in the register. The familiar mechanical sound of the drawer overtook the scrape of plastic as the man dragged the heavy bottle off the counter. I turned and began walking numbly towards the stockroom as the front door opened and let in the sound of heavy rainfall. I filled the mop bucket with water and set up a yellow plastic sign by the entrance as I cleaned up the man's brownish urine. As I hung the wrung out mop up to dry, I drew out my cell phone and called home with shaky fingers.\n\n“Hello?” came her voice.\n\n“Love,” I said, the flighty sensation in my gut making speech difficult. “It happened.”\n\nThere was silence on the line, and it seemed to stretch out forever.\n\n“Who?” she finally asked.\n\n“Just some hobo,” I said, wiping a tear from the corner of one eye.\n\n“Thank god,” she said.\n\n The next customer came in a few minutes later, and stepped nimbly around the yellow sign in expensive looking shoes. As she walked down the wine aisle, a thought occurred to me: She knows what taupe is." ]	2
	[WP] "She's around here somewhere, I can feel it.	[ "Four weeks on the run had left the boy's feet sore and tired.\n\nFour weeks since they burned the village, four weeks since he learned he was being hunted.\n\nHe still didn't know why.\n\nBlind Tim had found him huddled in a pile of leaves by the Great Road, six miles from the sea. He was a pathetic sight, all dirt and sunken cheeks and desperation... Not that Blind Time could know, of course.\n\n\"How'd you find me, then?\" he'd asked over a steaming bowl of chicken soup.\n\n\"I have a sense for these things,\" the man had answered, a wry little smile playing across his weathered face.\n\nBlind Tim had been kind to the boy, feeding him in exchange for help around the farm. He lived in a hut he'd built for himself before a wood knot exploded and took his eyes. The boy was not alone in holding a grudge against fires.\n\n\"This banner, it was red you say?\"\n\n\"Aye, it was,\" the boy answered through a mouthful of potatoes. Two weeks of nothing but under-ripe berries and field greens had given the boy quite an appetite.\n\n\"A long time ago, I heard speak of a people who rode under a red banner. Cruel, hard people from across the water. Raiders and rapers, rich off the fat of lands not their own. These were sailor's stories, of course. Not much to be believed, and yet...\" Blind Tim's voice trailed off. His sightless white eyes narrowed, his head cocked. \"Be still, boy,\" he hissed.\n\nSomething in Blind Tim's tone made the boy take him very seriously. He knew the man's hearing was keener than a cat's, keen enough that he could hear a twig snap across a sparrow-choked clearing, keen enough that he knew his question would ring loud and clear in the dead silence of the hut.\n\n\"What is it Tim?\"\n\n\"This woman of yours,\" the man whispered, \"She's around here somewhere. I can feel it.\"\n", "She's the flickering at the edge of your vision, and when you turn, she's gone. She's the tingling you feel on you legs as they hang over your bed, and the gust of wind as you sit at your desk. That's what he had told me, at least. But John had never really been the most stable of people. A party-goer, a drug-taker and an absolute binge drinker. Every now and then, I'd get a weird call from him, and he'd talk about his trips.\n\nEven in the dark early hours of the morning, I found amusement in his stories. Maybe that was why I put up with them. Not the amusement itself, but the guilt I got from finding amusement in what was obviously a terrible experience for him. I wondered why he never called me on his good trips, but I figured that you don't reach out to your stay-at-home roommate when there's a party going on.\n\nI was on the phone with him the night he died. Rambling had turned to screams, as they usually did. I hadn't been home, that night. The one night I wasn't home, and he came looking for me. When I got back, it'd been a scene apart from the normal world, cut off by police tape and colored lights. I didn't use my own room for a week, and when I went back, it wasn't the same.\n\nAn OD, they said. I never knew, but John had no family. All those nights, when I'd be holding back a laugh at his seemingly absurd screams about killer waffles and insane traffic lights, I'd been all he had. I was the only one he could call. The only one they could call to identify the body.\n\nThe blue sheets were much too low, I thought. Not where his chest was, but at his stomach. John kept in good shape, and there was no reason that the sheet should be sagging so much towards the table where his abs should be. When I realized I could see the dent that his spine left in the sheet, I suddenly questioned their diagnosis. Overdose? Maybe it had been an overdose, but what happened to him, what had happened to his guts? They told me that any wounds he had were self-inflicted. An overdose, they said, was the best cause of death they could see. It was the best cause of death they would put onto paper.\n\nShe wasn't something you could see, he had told me. Not something you could know you had seen or felt at the very least. He warned me not to look for her. Not to look at the shadows I thought I saw at the edge of my vision. Not to look at the folds of your blanket, that you were sure couldn't have been fold just a second ago. He told me not to, but I started looking anyway.\n\nI'd whip my head around, at noises I thought I had heard, at things I thought I had seen. The more I looker, the more I thought I had once seen. A hand, reaching out of the shower, touches a towel that could have been ragged locks of hair for a split second. Legs feel what could have been, if only for a split second, the tracing of fingertips. Eyes flicker at what could have been, if only for a split second, the darting of a small form.\n\nI see her every day, now. No, that's wrong. I think I see her, every day now. I think I feel her, feel her hunger. I think I can feel it in my own stomach, welling up inside, a gnawing sensation I can never be sure is there. I try not to look, I really do. I try not to feel. The more I look, the more I think I can see. I try not to, but it only gets worse. I only think it gets worse. She's around here somewhere, I can feel it. Or at least I think I can." ]	2
	[WP] That secret you said you'd take to your grave? Now you've met your maker, and they are asking you to explain yourself	[ "“Ex-explain myself?”\n\nThe words choke me. I sputter under the weight of Its gaze, unable to understand. \n\n“It was my fault? MY fault?” \n\nMy voice shakes at first, indignant. In life, I hid all my pain and my rage beneath jokes and smiles. I was unshakeable, or at least I told myself I was. I made myself strong, invulnerable. \n\nBut my mask can’t seem to settle over my face the way it used to, and the words I never said and the memories I tried so hard to push away claw at my throat.\n\n“What, was my skirt too short? Was I asking for it? I WAS EIGHT.”\n\nI scream as I search for It, desperate for something to touch, something to hurt. But there is nothing to take my anger out on. I feel It here, but I am alone. \n\nAll of a sudden I'm that little girl again, crumpled on the floor, scared and lost. My voice is small, cracking with the effort of trying to sound okay. \n\n“Where were You?”\n\nSilence. \n\nI need to know. I deserve to know. \n\n“Where were You?”\n\n“Where WERE You?!”\n\nBut my cries are lost in the void that contains It. \n\nThough It says nothing, Its condemnation rattles through me.\n\nThe floor is cold against my palms. My hands curl into fists. How dare It validify all the fears that kept me from reaching out to anyone who could help me, anyone who could save me? How dare It blame me? \n\n“I couldn’t let anyone touch me, not for years. I couldn’t be alone, but I couldn’t be close with anyone. Not even with myself. He made me empty. He was supposed to be one of Yours. How could you let it happen? How could you let him… touch… me?”\n\nRage built from decades of loneliness and hate twists against my chest. I howl like an animal in pain. \n\n“YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO SAVE ME”\n\nOne last sob shudders through me, and I focus on taking even, steady breaths. Slowly, I rise from my knees. In. It is not my fault. Out. I am okay. In. I am worth loving. Out. It is not my fault. \n\nMy breathing steady, I stare accussingly into the black. It is only when I have perfect control over my voice that I speak, my words a snarl of venomous disdain:\n\n“Explain Yourself.”\n", "\"Why?\" He asked. He stood before me. His facade remained as still as the corpse that flashed before my eyes when he spoke that word. A minute passed, then several. Not a muscle tensed or flinched. God was waiting for me to speak. \n\nWhen I stepped forward to see Him, the frail shell that I walked in for the last decade of my life eroded away into the prime of my youth. He glared me down with eyes that demanded judgement.\n\n\n\"You already know,\" I began, but His voice echoed throughout the empty landscape, quieting mine like a parent hushes his child. \"I still want to hear you.\"\n\n\nI paused to find words. A lot happened in seventy years. My whole life happened, but here the day rang clear in my mind like the church bells of a royal wedding. \"I... I was lonely.\"\n\n\"All of us are lonely, Richard.\" He said. \n\n\"Is she here?\" I asked.\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Is he?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nI fell to my knees at the sound of that. ", "Law and Lucifer\n\n\n“What… What happened?” my thoughts were in a frenzy. It’d all happened so fast. The last thing I remember was driving my 2004 Corolla back home after a really long day at work. I looked around me and noticed that I was on a large field covered in a thin veil of mist that smelled of sage. All around me, the mist clouded my vision. \n\n“Welcome, mortal!!” a loud voice boomed off in the distance, parting the mist.\n\n“Where… where am I?” I asked in cutting tones.\n\n “You, my friend are unfortunately but unmistakably dead and I am God.”\n\n“I can’t be dead. I just can’t!!! There is no such thing as God” I lashed out at the mysterious voice.\n\n“You gotta move on. That’s the best way to cope. I am God and atheism is a crime. Anyway, we’ve only got about 10 minutes for your case. Let’s make this a fast one” the voice said in a bored tone.\n\nMy sight cleared and I saw that I was in a large courthouse. In the judge’s seat sat an old, bearded man with kindly eyes but fierce ridges on his forehead. He flashed me a knowing wink and beckoned me forward.\n\nThe jury were people I had known in my life. Two people waved at me, smiling grimly. I realized that they were my dad and my aunt. \n\n“Shit! I’m really dead!! Dammit” I thought to myself.\n\nThe judge, who I guess was God spoke “Jim, now you need to choose a side. Choose well”\n\nWhere the lawyers usually were, there was a man in a black business suit with a cruel grin. He wore a red tie and had horns growing out of his forehead. There was also another man who wore a white, flowing robe. This man had a halo around his head and had a gentle look about him.\n\nIt was really a no-brainer. I took my seat next to the man in white.\n“Let the record show the defendant has chosen to plea a ‘heaven’ defense” said my lawyer who introduced himself as Michael.\n“Hey, I thought you were an archangel. Why’re you defending me?” I asked my attorney.\n“Man, times are hard. I’ve gotta take care of my family, ya know. Plus your wife really prayed that you wouldn’t be sent to hell” said Michael in a slurry voice.\nSo my attorney's a stoner. Great.\n\n“Order! Order! The defendant and his attorney will not speak! Lucifer, opening arguments, and keep it short” shouted the judge.”\n\n“Of course, ya honor. Jim here led an OK life, decent except for one small detail, a single flaw in an unusually decent life -” \n“I said, keep it SHORT” boomed the judge.\n“Sorry ya honor. Jim here committed adultery on his sweet wife who was so naïve that she never found out. Also, she paid for Jim’s representation. He also murdered his mistress after she threatened to tell Jim’s wife about the affair. You’re a bad guy, aren’t you Jim? Give up this case and just come with me -.”\n“Objection! Lucifer is badgering the defendant” Michael shouted to the Judge and was rewarded by a nod from Him.\n“Okay, okay. The defense will make its plea and then it’s time for sentencing.”\n\nI turned to Michael, who looked really drunk “What do we do now?”\n“Man, I’m sorry but your wife just found out you were cheating on her. She just revoked her prayer. You’re on your own. I’m legally required to sit here until after the sentencing though. Good Luck!”\n“Crap!!! My lawyer just bailed on me and now I gotta defend myself… Hope I don’t screw this up” \n\nI prepared myself to give an emotional speech about why I shouldn’t be sent to hell.\n“Your honor, I know I cheated on my wife. I admit that. But I never killed the girl. Lucifer is lying! My only crimes were being an atheist, and sleeping with another woman. I only did it once and after that, nothing happened. I constantly involved myself in charities and I always did good. I’m begging you, don’t send me to hell!!”\n\n“LUCIFER!!!! If I find you’re lying, I’ll take away your parking spot. You’ll have to walk all the way from Hell!! Jim, now that you’ve made your statement, your deceased peers will decide if you’re guilty. Let’s take a 5 minute recess to let the jury decide Jim’s fate” the Judge slammed his mallet down.\n\nThe entire courtroom faded in mist again. I was left sitting next to Michael.\n“Dude, what happens next?”\n“Hey man… I don’t give free legal advice but right now, I’m off the clock. They’re gonna decide if you’re guilty or not and then they’re gonna sentence you. The Big Guy really hates cheaters though. The last guy was sentenced to demon poop duty. Not fun, I can tell you” chucked Michael, puffing on a joint.\n“Dude, that sucks! I don’t deserve this -”\n\nA gong sounded off in the distance and this mist cleared again, interrupting my pleas. The judge looked really sleepy. I guess eternity of sitting in on court cases eventually got boring. \n“Has the jury reached a verdict?”\n“Yes, your honor. On the count of murder of the foulest degree, the defendant is innocent. Your honor, Lucifer wasted our time on that one”\n“Noted. Lucifer, you’re walking back home!!!!” bellowed the judge.\n\n“On the count of adultery, the defendant is found to be GUILTY”\nMy heart jumped in my chest “What’s he gonna do?”\nThe judge stood up and glared at me.\n“Jim. It appears you’re guilty. Usually, I’d just ask Lucifer here to throw you in hell for a millennia but I need to take special consideration because you lived a mostly good life. This is a tough one. I really like your wife, she’s one of my favorite subjects. Let me think…”\nA grin played on my face. Maybe he’s not gonna condemn me to eternity in hell, or worse, poop duty.\n\n“I’ve made up my mind. From this day forward, you’ll carry Lucifer between court and Hell on your back. This will represent the pain you’ve caused your wife. When your wife arrives, you’ll apologize to her and she’ll decide if you get to enter heaven or if you’re gonna burn in hell. You’ll live in court for now, working as our poop cleaner. Court adjourned!”\n\nMichael prodded me “Told you he’d give you something poop related. I do think your wife will forgive you though. All the best” \nAnd so began my new life as Lucifer’s personal vehicle. Damn, I hated him. I also scrape poop on the weekends from the court’s floors. I sure hope Kathy forgives me. \n", "As he looked down on me, I could feel the unbearable weight of judgement on my shoulders. His eyes displayed an obvious disdain for me, and I knew why.\n\nIt was because I let my brother die. And lied about it. I was a coward, who would run and abandon his brother to save his own sorry ass! I left him bleeding out. He couldve survived the mugging, if only I hadve fucking done something.\n\nAnd now, the creator looks down on me with disapproval in his eyes. He demands I explain why I would let my only brother bleed out like a rat in the street, only I cant tell him. I couldnt bring myself to tell my family while I was alive and still cant let the truth through my lips.", "\"You're an odd bastard.\" \n\"...pardon?\" \nThere is no space; No matter nor atom here. And apparently no courtesy. \n \n\"After so many years of deciding right from wrong, I always far short of my introduction. I am your creator, and you're here to be decided of your fate.\" \n\"I thought you didn't exist..\" \n\"I don't.\" \nI was shocked to hear those words. I never believed in God; heaven or hell, but I did like to think life after death was possible. \nConfused, I responded \"Am I dead?\" \n\"Yes and no. This is where your circle of hell; which part of heaven; or revival is decided.\" \n\"Go on, where am I going then?\" \n\"Hold it, Daniel. I've almost finished deciding your fate. There's just this one thing I can't figure out...\" \n\"Aren't you 'All Knowing'?\" \n\"I only created man...Ever since Lucifer won the Battle of Humanity, I have abandoned the endeavors of mankind.\"\nI felt, or what seemed like feeling, scared. \"What is it that you must know?\" \n\"Juliet.\" \nWhat seemed like feeling: I turned depressed. My frown and eyes boiled down to the blackness of this world. My figurative words won't win me life, or life in heaven now. I contemplated my words before saying them.. \nI started to explain: \n \nI loved her. She was my everything. An orange sunset flirting with pink rose pedals couldn't match her beauty. She made me feel life instead of death. \n\"Your first love?\" \n\"No, but the last.\" \n\"Hm.\" \nI was planning on purposing. I bought the ring and planned an extravagant purposal. \n\"What was it?\" \n\"We were going to walk in the park. A photographer hiding in the bushes would take pictures before & after. Everything was going to be elegant. The reflection of redish-orange leaves on the water. The sun rays mixing with ripples of water accompanied with the sound of rocks thrown into the water. And above all that: A beautiful girl combing her life with mine.\" \n\"What went wrong? The park is where she died.\" \n\"The photographer.\" \n\"Oh?\" \n\"He was on the FBI's Most-Wanted list. A man who liked to photograph his murders, before & after.\" \n\"Go on, Daniel..\" \n \nEverything was set, everything was beautiful. We were at the location where everything just felt right and worries disappeared by just standing there. I could see the Photographer in the bushes with his High-Definition camera in place, in hiding, on a short tripod. I stopped Juliet and told her to look towards the lake. She smiled, and took in the moment: She wore a dark red dress with red lipstick on. I grabbed her hand a little bit to hard, and got down on one knee. \n\"Juliet, my love..\" \n\"Oh my god!!\" \n\"I've loved you for years, and everyday it seems like the very first time I said 'I love you'. You make me what I am. You show me that everything is alright. You are my life. You are my everything.. Will you mar-\" \n \nIn the blackness, I looked at my arm. A scar was there from the knife of the photographer. I felt cold, I felt alone. \n \n\"..Daniel. I've decided your fa--\" \n\"I'm not finished.\" I could see his face now. A man over millions of years old looking at least thirty. He was surprised, and he was quiet. \n \n\"I killed the photographer.\" \n\"You had to. I understand.\" \n\"You don't. Because you believe I killed Juliet.\" \n\"You were convicted of the murder of Juliet & the photographer..\" \nThe photographer's camera was late to start capturing. The only pictures shown in court was Juliet and her dark red dress covered with her blood, a man being killed by me, and my hand imprinted on Juliet's hand. \n\"I don't understand. You couldn't prove your case?\" \n\"Exactly.\" \n\"It was self-defense, but you couldn't prove it. Thus, you endured hell and was convicted of murder. Your punishment was death..\" \nI looked up to my creator. \"What is my fate?\" \n\"Paradise; The highest level of heaven.\" \n", "As I stood there, trying not to look into it's eyes, I lowered my head, held back my tears and flashed back to my childhood. I grew up in a strict Catholic household. Grace before meals, Our Fathers before bed and when we did something wrong, Rosaries. Every day I was reminded that if I didn't confess my sins at confession I'd be sent to Hell when I died, which my parents reminded me could happen at any moment. I couldn't take the stress and started to feel resentful. I questioned whether or not God was real. I went to my parents for guidance, but was only met with punishment and lectures. In bible study, even our teacher chided me for bringing it up, alienating me from the other children in my class. I decided it was best to stay quiet and do what I was told. When I was older, I continued going to mass and even married a nice Catholic woman who attended the same church. Our children were brought up in the same way and taught the same things forced upon me as a child. Up until the day I died, I did what I was told.\n\nI wiped my tears and looked up. I felt like a lifetime of guilt was pouring out of my eyes. I don't have to pretend anymore. I looked directly into it's eyes and told the presence, \"I don't believe in you.\"", "(My first time doing this. Nervous as shit. Please be easy on me haha)\n\n---\n\n\"Okay, look,\" He started. Immediately all the trappings of his old life fell back into place; he wrung his hands together and pulled at the silver band on his left hand. On and off, on and off. \"Look here, I can explain.\"\n\nThe light said and did nothing, and immediately Saul knew that his approach wouldn't work. What had so easily passed as penitent and embarrassed in his former life no longer held here. Still, he couldn't bring himself to drop the pretense. Even now he felt shame in his stomach as he caught its gaze (if it even had one) dead on. Eye contact: the first rule to seeming sincere, even if you weren't. \n\n\"I was, what, fourteen?\" He gave a nervous laugh. \"And besides, I got my comeuppance in college. I barely made it out alive. A lot of people make mistakes.\"\n\nNo response. He felt a searing heat on the back of his neck. His imagination took a turn for the dark and Saul imagined a hot brand dropping own onto him to label him as a liar, or maybe a great flaming sword lowering to cut off his head. The ring slid on and off his knuckle even faster. \"I know what I did was wrong. I spent another sixty years avoiding my sister, okay? What do you do after you do something like that? 'Sorry, was just working out some sexual things, glad you could help'? She was fucking six.\"\n\nThe light said nothing still. Saul teetered into anger at the lack of response. \"What the hell did you want me to do?! I fucked her up and I thought the best thing to do was leave her alone!\"\n\nA flicker. The light dimmed until he found himself in darkness once more; gasping at the sudden cold, Saul staggered forward, reaching for the presence he knew was no longer there. \"God?\"\n \nA chill passed through the infinite black. " ]	7
	[WP] Having not found any signs of human life for years. An old man is awakened by the sound of voices in the distance.	[ "\"I have to find some food somewhere, where to search next...\" I mutter to myself while scoping my surrounding areas. I'm exhausted from walking, moving from one house to the next. Oh what I'd give to just hear my beautiful daughters voice again...well, any voice again.\n\nI walk by some deserted cars, doors opened, nothing left inside. Most vehicles have already been picked over, leaving nothing behind besides empty wrappers and cans. I kick a rock towards a gully, that reeks of garbage and death.\n\n\"Shhh, he's coming,\" a voice whispers from the gully.\n\nAm I dreaming again, hearing voices. I know I said I wanted to hear a voice, any voice and now my wish is granted? I'm definitely losing it,\" I say to myself. Just to be sure, I walk towards the foul smelling gully. \nI don't see anything alive or moving. My mind is playing tricks on me. I need to continue on and find food. It's almost night fall.\n\nI begin to wall away, when I hear a banging noise coming from inside the gully, the drain pipes. There's something alive in there and moving. I pull my shotgun out, aiming it at the hole. I slowly creep around, looking inside the tunnel. It's dark inside, I can barely see a thing. I must be brave.\n\n\"Come out now, or I'll shoot!\" I yell in my deepest voice, trying to scare them out. Maybe it's a rat I can catch and eat for dinner. I slowly hear the sounds of someone walking inside of the hole. A teenage boy and a young girl step out of the pipe, dirty and bruised. They're so skinny, they look like they haven't eaten in weeks.\n\n\"Please don't shoot, we don't want trouble,\" the boy stutters. He has one hand up for surrender, while supporting his sister with his arm around her shoulder. She has both hands up, with a scared look on her face.\n\nI slowly put my gun down and hold it to my side. Shit, I can barely take care of myself. How am I going to be able to take care of two kids? It's not my fault, I don't have to take care of them. They're not my kids. I slowly turn to walk away. My stomach's grumbling and I need to eat.\n\n\"Wait...please don't leave us. Take us with you. We have no one left, and haven't seen anyone in months,\" the boy shouts. I stop and take a deep breath. \n\n\"Follow me, but no talking, not yet,\" I say as I begin walking again. I've been urging for voices, now I have them, I'm not ready for them. ", "Jane woke startled. His sweaty hands still tightly gripped onto his treasured necklace. The thin delicate chain led to a small golden oval locket encrusted with small diamonds. Jane always slept with it open, for inside laid a torn and faded picture of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. Scribbled in ink was the name Jane.\n\n\"Fuck fuck fuck! I think it might be broken!\" One voice screamed in agony from a distance. \n\n\"Shhhhh be quiet!\" Replied another, panicking. \n\n\"Jane.\" muttered Jane gently.\n\nJane stumbled to his feet, ignoring the sores and cuts that laid abundant upon them. Crawling out of his makeshift tarp shelter, he was engulfed by the burning light of the midday sun. But it did not bother him; the layers of dirt shielded his bare skin. \n\nStanding straight, Jane scanned the direction of the voices in anxious confusion. His wide eyes were wild with tiny pupils; forever shifting and moving. He stood patiently, patting his thigh with his hand which still clenched the worn necklace. \n\nHe stared longingly in the distance. Had it just been another one of the voices in his head?\n\n\"I can't walk. I can't fucking walk.\" the desperate voice resonated in the distance\n\n\"Jane!\" Jane spat out, saliva covering his thick lice-infested beard. With his eyes fixed upon the direction of the voices, Jane began to move. His stumbles became a fast walk. His walk became a run. His run became a full-out sprint.\n\n\"Jane! Jane! JAAAANNNNEEEEE!\" His gums bled as each scream of the name became louder and more desperate. Without regards for the bushes and trees and rocks that laid in his path, Jane continued to run in a straight line. The voices became more and more clear before Jane burst into an opening. \n\n\"Fuck it's one of the them!\" yelled the incapacitated man, his dark blue uniform spoiled by the blood gushing from his ankle. \n\n\"He's not supposed to see us! He's not supposed-\" Gasped the other, standing shocked in his still pristine attire. \n\n\"JJAANNNEE!\" Roared the old man as he darted on top of the wounded worker, clasping his clothes. Pinning him down, Jane's eyes swelled with tears as he screamed that name again and again.\n\n\"Jane! JJAANNEEE! JJAAAANNNNEEE!\" \n\n\"Get him off me!! Get him off!\"\n\nBzz. Jane shook violently as a taser dart embedded itself in his scarred neck. He collapsed unconscious, freeing the impaired man from his savage grip.\n\n\"Holy fuck.\" exhaled the man on the floor, his uniform now even dirtier.\n\n\"Are- are you okay?\"\n\n\"Do I look okay? Look at my fucking ankle!\" He yelled as he pushed Jane's limp body aside. \"Come on, help me up.\" The second worker rushed over and offered his hand. Once the injured man came to his feet, the pair paused and stared over Jane's ragged body.\n\n\"I kind of feel sorry for them.\"\n\n\"He shouldn't of murdered someone then. He deserves this.\"\n\n\"I suppose...\"\n\n\"That's why I got this job. I wanted to watch these assholes suffer first hand, not from behind a TV screen\"\n\n\"The audience voted for this guy to survive another year, didn't they?\"\n\n\"Look at him. Crazy old shit. Doubt he'll make it another week.\"\n\n\"Oh...\"\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nJane woke startled. His sweaty hands we're empty.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n" ]	2
Inspired from a Writing Prompt from 1,000 Awesome Writing Prompts.	[WP] You are a peasant in medieval times. An evil knight has unjustly killed the love of your life. Describe the moment you finally get your revenge, and how.	[ "\"I've never felt so powerless. I was in the corner held down by what I assume were soldiers. They had weapons, but I could not see what they looked like. The room was spinning, my head was bleeding, but I heard two things that will stick with me until the end. The first was a man with a very thick accent, barely comprehensible, ' Sir Boseford said she went here.' I was beaten and held down while I heard my wife scream and struggle close-by. I've never had never felt this feeling of hopelessness. The men holding me down kicked me in the head while I was struggling, trying in anyway to make her screaming stop. When I awoke, I saw the lifeless body of my wife clutching my hands. Tears erupted from my eyes. I refused believe that she had d... passed away. My tears subsided after I realized that she, along with myself, was covered in blood. I noticed a trailed of blood across the ground leading to where her body now lay. She had been stabbed in the stomach.With fists cliched and my teeth grinding into dust, I was consumed by my rage and swore to find Boseford and kill him.\nI wasn't much of a fighter, so I had to take a less direct approach. I knew nothing of poisons, nor did I have any access to Boseford. While he had guards, weapons, training, armor, and many other advantages over me, I had knew I could win in the end with my unrelenting determination and patience. I began to work on a farm near his town and spent the little money I had to bribe beggers to be my eyes and ears in the city. I eventually learned that he went to a brothel twice a week. He always chose a different girl, but went to the same room. He usually entered drunk and left hungover and abusive. After waiting 2 years, I decided to strike. I scaled the brothel and entered into his second floor room through the window. The room was dark. I could barely make out the layout. I crouched beside a chair next to the door, waiting in the shadows to strike. Hours later, I heard a loud stomping by the stairs. As the sound grew louder, I could hear a woman's laughter and Boseford's drunken slurring. Years of planning led to this moment. He opened the door and , drunkenly stumbling, threw his whore on the bed. I leapt out of the shadows and stabbed him in the back. The girl screamed and ran out of the door. Boseford was still not fully aware of what had happened; he only knew his pain. I used the chair to jam the door shut and approached my enemy. He muttered 'who are y.' I stabbed repeatedly in the chest before he could finish speaking. Suddenly an emptiness filled my mind. I stood above the body, staring at it. I lacked purpose. 'Now what?' I thought. I sat until guards broke down the door and arrested me. Now I'm here and will be hanged in the morning. Hopefully my story can help you in your quest.\" \"Thank you\" said the bearded visitor.\nBefore sunset and in front of an ever increasing crowd, the man was pelted with numerous objects. The people stopped throwing things as a priest addressed the crown.The man didn't care all he could think of was his lost love. The trap door below the man's feet was removed and he began to fall. In his final moments, he could hear the cheer of a crowd. He felt a burning heat in his neck and his feeling of emptiness was soon overtaken by a sense of calmness and peace and later darkness. The hanged man's body swung about as the crowd slowly dissipated. \n\n", "As they tied my hands behind my back and threw me down on a log to expose my neck, I laughed like a mad man…\n\nMaria was all that I could ask for in a woman. She was hard working. She would bundle up her hair and work in the fields under the hot sun without an irritable word. She was loving. The way she whispered soft words into my ear never failed to calm me. On special occasions she would wear an elegant dress that transformed the field worker into a charming lady.\n\nOne joyful night at the tavern celebrating the good seasons of rain and sunlight barged in a small troupe of three knights. Sickening quiescence instantly spread like a disease. The knight wearing dark armor standing in front, apparently the leader of the troupe, stepped forward. He gazed around the room, slowly, tired. As soon as my eyes met his I felt the icy coldness and immediately cast my eyes at the ground. He proceeded to gaze around the room and he saw Maria, who was looking too beautiful that night. I saw Maria staring at the ground. After pausing for a moment, he said “We are looking for quarters.” So short and simply dictated. \n\nThe son of a bitch Joseph pointed at me and said, “Paul has enough space in his home to house all of you tonight.” It’s true, I was well off better than most others here. But Paul is still a son of a bitch. \n\nSoon, everyone left the tavern except the troupe and me. They got a couple of round of drinks and I had to lead them to my home. Maria greeted us at the door nervously. \n\n“Tie up the horses” said one knight.\n\nI said, “Lead them to our rooms Maria.” Maria’s pupils were wide open, like a scared rabbit. I was also scared. Without saying anything she led them all into the house while I led the horses to the barn…\n\nI see that the knight who ordered me to tend to the horses that night is standing in front of me now, holding a long sword. In his face I see a mix of emotions: anger and fear. I puked up blood. He is reactionless and raises his sword high…\n\nAs I was about to tie up the last horse, I heard Maria’s screams and cries. My knees were weak, I was seeing tunnel vision, but I ran to the house. And then I saw. A broken vase on the side of the bed, the dark knight without armor grabbing at his bloody head with his left hand. Kneeling on my bed over my Maria, his right hand holding a sword through my Maria. \n\nI ran fast, very fast to the barn and to the horse and I ran very far…\n\nI was prepared to die for what I did today. I waited 13 years for revenge. I took me 13 years to find this son of a bitch! My plan had to be flawless…\n\nI came under the guise of an exotic cook. With my sun dried skin and long black beard there was no way they could have remembered me. When I entered the kitchen, I worked under watchful eyes. They inspected all of the spices that I brought, made sure that I taste everything before I served them. The dark knight must have many enemies. I didn’t expect them to make me taste, but like I said, I was prepared for death. I ate part of the first dish, the dish that will deliver death. \n\nI stood at the side of the table as I waited for the dark knight to take the first bite. My hands were sweating so much that I clasped them together to not to show. My heart was beating so fast I was sure he could hear it. I had to look out to the window to hide my emotions that may be revealed from my eyes. Then he took the first bite.\n\nI felt stillness.\n\nSecond bite.\n\nI felt small leaps of laughing beginning from my chest.\n\nThird bite. Fourth bite…\n\nBy the end of the meal they probably thought I was smiling so widely because the patron had finished the entire meal until the dark knight puked up blood and collapsed face first into the plate…\n\nI feel putrid at the stomach from the poison but I still feel drunk on the ecstasy of revenge as I watch the long sword fall toward my head. The sunlight reflects off the blade and I reflexively close my eyes.\n", "\" So, you finally return to your old mother eh?\" the wrinkly hag before me asked. Her long fingers nimbly pulled the leaves off the branch before dropping them in her brew. \" I wanted you to follow in my steps years ago. But no ' It's evil! It's blasphemy! It's against the church! It's-\"\n\n\"I know what I said!\" I shouted, the very walls beginning to shake. My mother looked up as the roof began to shake. I calmly breathed in and the shaking ended.\n\nLooking back at my mother she smiled a crooked smile before grabbing her spoon and stirring the pot. \" You lost control eh? Is that why you come crawling back to me?\"\n\n\" I need to master it. I know you can teach me,\" I said angrily.\n\nMother looked deep into my eyes then tsked and turned back to her pantry, searching for her next ingredient. \" No. You can't handle such powers, you're too weak.\"\n\nI stepped around the table and grabbed my mother by the arm then turned her so she had to look into my eyes. \" That monster took him away from me, my Arthur!\" I shouted the tears coming back. \n\nMy mother finally seemed to take note of what I was saying then took my hand and closed her eyes as I closed mine. Memories came back too quickly and strongly, all too powerful. Watching the dark knight enter the town, burning down everything in his wake. My husband stepping in front of me to block a killing blow. Watching his eyes close and the knight ride off.\n\nAnd then we were back in the small hut. My mother's old smile came back as she grabbed her cane and walked to the other side of the shack. \" You have purpose then, a goal. Determination. That is what you need.\"\n\nShe brought back a large book and placed it in my hands. \" Now what must I do?\"\n\nPointing to my chest she said, \" The power comes from here. Your spirit. Let it grow in your own way. Only you can control what is inside of you, command it to do what you want.\" Mother made a soft hand motion towards the door and it flew open. \" Come. Now we train you to be a real witch.\"\n\n-- 1 year later --\n\nSitting in the pub of the quiet inn buried in the country side, I sat in the corner drinking my mead and patiently waited. Waited for him. After carefully following his trail I finally ended up in front of the bastard. Oh how much things have changed since that day. I am no longer the quiet house wife, cleaning and cooking for my loving husband. If Arthur could see me now I'm certain he'd no longer love the woman before him.\n\n\" Sir?\" I looked up past my hood at the bartender. \" You gonna pay for another round?\"\n\nI flicked my wrist and a coin from my pouch rose up and into the air. The man gasped and ran off, a dark smile on my face as I watched the others turn away. My ears twitched as they picked up hooves coming in fast from 100 yards away. I stood and stepped outside and saw the night sky grow darker than before. And then he appeared, this time sauntering into town. \"Welcome,\" I said with a bow.\n\nThe knight halted his horse. \" Not a greeting I am used to. Reveal yourself stranger if you wish to fight me.\" \n\nI pulled back my hood and the knight laughed. \" Problem?\"\n\n\" I don't fight women. It is not a fair match.\"\n\n\" Then let me even the odds,\" I said with a flick of my wrist. The knight's sword flew towards me and I caught it in my bare hand before burying it in the ground. \n\nThe knight processed this before jumping down. \" Last of the witches then eh?\" he moved towards me steadily, no fear at all it seems. \" Did the town gather all their coin for you to come defend them?\"\n\n\" You may not remember me but I was apart of a town not unlike this one. No this is pure revenge. Now do you accept my challenge or not?\"\n\n\" Oh of course. Haven't killed a witch before.\" And with that he swung his fist at me.\"\n\nI had already prepared a shield incantation but unfortunately the knight was stronger than expected and broke through it easily, hitting me hard enough to send me flying. This wouldn't be so easy as I thought. The fighting went on until morning but as the town's people emerged to the rising sun they found the knight was impaled on his own blade and I stood over his body. \n\nThis is what it felt like then. Revenge. It was so very sweet almost too sweet. I could practically taste it and the taste... I wanted more. The smile of happiness grew maniacal and laughter soon followed. So this is why the black knight killed then eh? This sweet lingering taste? Everyone should have to pay for my dear Arthur's death! Why should they live when he had to die. \" All of you will pay!\" I shouted then rose into the air.\n\nThe sky darkened and lightning began to strike the little town. Revenge, a delight too sweet to give up so easily. ", "He ravaged her, several times at it, and wiped his blade on her dress when he'd finished her off.\n\nThe pompous prick.\n\nBut laying down beside his corpse now, I feel fulfilled. It is done now, Henrietta, and may God forgive me.\n\n-------------------------\n\nI was only seventeen when I married her, my Henrietta. \n\nShe was the finest girl in all the village, and I thought surely God had smiled on me that day. \n\nBut that day Ser Tomas claimed his right to her marriage bed, as the archaic rule goes. No one dared step in on my behalf, on our behalf. Everyone simpered to him. Even Henrietta, when it came right down to it. I'd like to think it was because she was protecting me from myself.\n\nEven so, I attacked him, pulled him off his horse, and gave him a black eye.\n\nHe had me whipped. As he did the deed. As he used and killed her.\n\nI think he could have had me hanged, or just killed me himself, but he'd rather have let me suffer and so he did. He let me simmer in my own self-hatred and pity and thirst for vengeance. \n\nArrogant arse.\n\nHe should have known a peasant boy willing to pull a noble off a horse was equally willing to pursue him to the ends of the earth for comeuppance. \n\nWell, I planned mine.\n\nTwo years spent blending back in, becoming that poor boy who lost his bride or the peasant who hit his betters or some other thing.\n\nI simpered. I toed the line. I pretended my place.\n\nA year later I became a woodsman for Ser Tomas' estate. I managed the thickets and trees and I ensured his fire was warm.\n\nThree years more and I was trusted enough to work the inside of the estate. I assisted with tending the cooking fires and even helping to deliver food to important folk unlike myself.\n\nI blended in further.\n\nSix years and I was a footman at the door, letting in only those I trusted in my lord's presence. I was the gatekeeper, and I could let in an assassin for a bribe. \n\nBut I didn't.\n\nI would wait, the moment was not right.\n\nDuring those days, my vengeance had cooled and become a delicious pudding. A pudding of justice and violence.\n\nThe thing about pudding is you must wait, and pride yourself on your restraint until the moment comes that you know it is right, and you can indulge yourself. And you can feast on that pudding.\n\nI was becoming a man well and truly, at the age of thirty six. Almost old by standards and conventions.\n\nI was also more educated, thankful for my lord's patronage for his servants.\n\nI knew from the woods the proper mushrooms and plants to poison a man, and I knew from the cooks which foods would best blend a proper-tasting food with sharp poison.\n\nI had the rights to deliver it unto my lord's chambers, for his later even feast.\n\nMy lord was older now, frailer than the day I had punched his eye. Frailer than the day he had me tied down and whipped while he destroyed my bride.\n\nIt is customary that I taste my lord's food before he eats it, lest he be poisoned. My lord is wary of a peasant boy now a man, but remembers not the face.\n\nI drink of the wine, eat of the warm, moist honeyed bread.\n\nI watch with a keen eye as my lord feasts, holding back the bile as I prepare to die.\n\nI drag my lord from the bed, retching as he retches, as he is wretched and I am too.\n\nWe fall. I watch his eyes glaze over. It is done.\n\n----------------------------\n\nHe ravaged her, several times at it, and wiped his blade on her dress when he'd finished her off.\n\nThe pompous prick.\n\nBut laying down beside his corpse now, I feel fulfilled. It is done now, Henrietta, and may God forgive me." ]	4
	[WP] A nuclear warhead has been launched that will wipe out all of humanity. Write from the perspective of the bomb.	[ "I hear these humans that created me talking, they say it's almost time to send me off. I wonder where I'll be going. I hear them say that I'll kill everyone, that this is the end and this is the way it has to be. I start to hear machines in motion, locks unlocking, buttons being pressed, then I hear a countdown. 5...4...3...2...1...All of the sudden flames begin to shoot from beneath me and I race out of my launch tube with an ear deafening roar. It's so bright at the end, finally I shoot out into an open blue sky, the sun is shining, not a cloud to be found, higher and higher, faster and faster. Then I Peak, Now I must go towards my destination. As I speed through the air I pass an airplane full of men, women and children. I'm getting closer now, I see the land, beautiful emerald green grass, crystal blue waters. I pass a few birds majestically gliding through the air without a care in the world. Now I'm even closer, I see massive cities, buildings that look like they reach the heavens. I see highways and streets filled with busy people going about their lives. Mothers, fathers, husbands and wives. Something begins to happen, my insides begin to click and turn, like gears working in a clock. Closer I fall, now I can see everything. The expressions on the faces of everyone around me. More clicking and turning inside me, I see women and men on their knees, holding the children close. People scrambling like roaches in the kitchen when the light switches on. The ground, so close, I hear one more click..." ]	1
	[WP] Overnight everyone stops using Reddit except for one person. That person tries to figure out why.	[ "I woke up to the glaring sun-light penetrating my small window, I felt a little dazed, but anyway\n\nTime to get started on this stupid Chemistry assignment, its due in about 2 weeks, but I should probably get started on it now\n\nI open up Microsoft Word, and type in size 24, bold and underlined, 'The Environmental Impacts of Sulfur Pollution', at a loss for what to do, I google 'Sulfur Pollution'. I went through the long wikipedia article, well no actually, that's a lie, the wikipedia article is a bit too long, so I decide to google 'reddit ELI5 sulfur pollution'. To quite a suprise of mine, there was no useful existing thread. \n\n\nSo I decided to post on /r/ELI5, 'ELI5: How does Sulfur pollute the earth?'. I submitted the post, and seeing that I can't do much while waiting for the answer, I decide to browse reddit, telling myself determinedly that I will not spend more than 1 hour, just enough for my thread to make it to the front page should be enough. \n\n\nI went on /r/AdviceAnimals, the same boring memes were at the front page, I recognised one of these just yesterday. At least wait longer than a day to repost...\n\n\nSo I decided to show that it was just a 1 day old repost, telling the OP to try harder. \n\n\nI then went to /r/funny, the same deal, everything I saw just yesterday, why is everyone reposting?\n\n\nIt then hit me, I saw the post date under a photo of melted portable potty, 'submitted 50 years ago'.\n\n\n\nWhat on earth.\n\n\nI call my friend up to ask him what's going on, he was pretty popular over at /r/WritingPrompts, always won those dumb competitions.\n\n\n\"Hello who is this?\"\n\n\nAn old drawling voice answered the phone, breathing deeply\n\n\nI slammed the phone down immediately, it just struck me\n\n\n\"SHIT, I missed the assignment due date\"\n\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] You've been diagnosed with dementia. You decide to embark upon a journey/adventure before you succumb, but as you travel, the dementia begins to hit you.	[ "The flies were gyrating mid-air like electrons. I wonder if I will ever forget the smell of manure. The tangy-sour odor takes me to a time where animals and humans shared living quarters to stay warm. Now we grow shit in it. My Goldie's slick nose twitches on the wind like a rabbit's, we've been paralyzed by the sun all day, watching the clouds go by.\n\nI've always had golden retrievers... ever since I was a boy. Their friendly faces and soft shimmering coats. Brown eyes that consul any problem a boy might have. I think they trusted me more 'cause of my brown eyes. I think some dogs trust too much.\n\nMy wife has brown eyes. And they glowed like a full moon on our wedding day. The wrinkles on her nose matching those edging her eyes, freckles in between. What an amazing event, with amazing people. I think she trusted me too much.\n\nMy son has brown eyes. At his birth, that was the first thing I noticed. Good. My Goldie will trust him too. He's got a degree, but hasn't really accomplished a lot. My son... not the Goldie. I think he's scared to disappoint me. We should play catch in the park.\n\nMy father's death was hard. Obviously. There's a certain maturity that comes with becoming an orphan. A lone torch in the night. I think he was disappointed in me.\n\nI'm laying horizontal, surrounded by furrowed brown eyes. They all trusted me too much, and now I've let them down again. Finally.", "Voice recording:\n\nMay 10:th\n\nThe doctor came in a year ago and told me about my illness, told me that I had dementia that was turning worse for everyday. I didn't know how to react at first, but that later turned into a good depression that lasted for a year until I said \"blast it!\" embarked on this journey. \nThis log is my guide through my memories of my hike that I will have and listen to everyday when I'm in that home for the old people. What's it called now again?\n\nBut first thing first. My first stop is in London to catch a ferry from there and head into Paris.\n\n---\n\nMay 13:th\n\nI sit on a boat, swaying back and forth as we fight against the ocean to get to our destination. What was the name of the place again? \nIt will surely come back to me, but for now I'm quite sleepy. Thank god that younger me was a sports fanatic so I could have this endurance I have today. \n\n---\n\nMay 19:th\n\nWe've reached our destination and I have taken a bus towards the city of... Paris I think? \nIt's a huge city, that's for sure. I met some interesting people, a couple named... Er... Sarah I think, and Julian. \nThey brought me to the Eifel tower, it was gigantic. The largest building i've seen in my life. \nBigger than the Big Sven back in London! \nI was also on a market, guided by the young couple. There were some nifty kids around, quite dirty but they had a patting game. \nToo bad my friends scared them off, I was having quite a lot of fun with them. \nThey said that I could stay at their home for free until I leave the city. Which I will soon and head to Berlin, located in Germany.\n\n---\n\nMay 24:th. \nI've set my sights towards Berlin in Germany now, for the first time I will visit the country that my dear father fought so hard against. I remember his stories, sort off. Small parts of them, but I don't think that they have a lot of impact. Some of them might not even be true. \n\nAw well. \nThe bus is comfy though, really comfy. The busdriver is really fun to talk to aswell. \n\n---\n\nMay 26:Th\n\nI've set foot in Germany, being Rüstock i've always wanted to visit. There is a harbour, a nice harbour with a lovely view to The Baltic towards the north. \n\n---\n\nThe elderly man fell backwards with a loud thud and introduced the chair to his butt, squirmed himself into a comfortable position and leaned back to the headrest. \nA young woman entered the room and said something in a slurry manner. \nWhat in earth was she doing? And why was she here in the first place?... \nHe shouted at the young lady with a determined voice. \n\"This is my home, git' out you foul woman\".\n\n\"There, there. No need to be rude.\" She dared to speak to me with a demeaning manner? He thought to himself and shouted, nearly spat out the words. \n\"Git' the fuck out of my house you filthy courtslut!\" \nHer face convulsed and a tear slid down from her cheek, but she kept her smile up and returned to her duties. \nAfter all, she was gonna take care of this man. It was her job, a terrible job however.", "May 12th, 2014: The rain has stopped and I can finally take a walk around the cape. I am joined by Erin for lunch after she woke up late, yet I left without her to see the shops and the water by myself. I bought myself fruit for breakfast and sat in the sand and watched as tourists filled the beach, setting up umbrellas to avoid the direct sun. I baked in it, closing my eyes and letting my face get rosey red. Melanoma would be the least of my concerns. I enjoyed feeling my skin grow taut and sensitive, every movement a pinch to remind myself why I am vacationing in the first place. \n\nErin and I eat at a café, and she keeps asking if I am okay. Is it selfish to enjoy the attention? I sit close to her and tell her about the shops and landmarks we need to see before we leave. She enthusiastically agrees. \n\nMay 13th, 2014: A disturbing dream caused me to wake up. I was being chased by my brother with a hose, and he chased me to the lip of a steep drop, and I turned around and I begged him not to spray me. When he hit me in the face, I woke up damp. My doctor explained to me that night emissions are a common occurrence with dementia. I curled the hotel sheets into a ball, left a note of apology and a tip for the cleaning staff, and now sit at my laptop to read and write, dimming the illumination of the screen so that I do not awaken Erin.\n\nShe slept peacefully, so that brings me solace as I grow increasingly restless. I feel guilty having invited her. Before my diagnosis, our relationship was platonic. After she had learned about my condition, she threw herself at me, calling me often to check in on me and to sob. I was the first close friend she was going to lose. I told her I did not want to travel alone. The only reason we are not sharing a bed now is because of my constant voiding during sleep.\n\nIn the afternoon, we swam together. I focused on her, her holding her breath and bubbles coming out of the corners of her lips and nose. As I focused, the water distorted around her as if it were not water at all, but a viscous gel that she was suspended in. We left the water shortly after and enjoyed take-out at the hotel, tired from a long day. She ran her hands through my hair, and yelled at me to wear sunscreen as she carefully peeled dead skin from my face. \n\nMay 14th, 2014: I woke up to the hotel staff complaining over who was going to change the bed-pisser’s sheets. I argued with the front end until a manager arrived, and they offered me a complimentary night’s stay. I refused and told them I would be leaving immediately. I pulled out my map and began to show Erin the course to our next location. I pointed out a route following the ocean, and had printed up restaurant recommendations for the entire way down the coast.\n\nShe began to cry again. I was holding her when she said, mouth muffled on my shoulder, “I have to leave. I’m sorry. This is too hard for me.” I was shocked. It’s a funny thing that when you’re at your weakest, relying on the support of others, then don’t stop to think that your dead weight threatens to knock them over. I selfishly told her that I would not drive her back home. She agreed, telling me that I should keep going. I stopped arguing with her, and told her goodbye. She walked to the bus terminal to begin her journey back. I began to look over my itinerary, thinking over where I would rather eat and stay, and revising it. It became dark when I resurfaced from my work, and I found the manager and told him that I would accept his complimentary night stay.\n\n~~June?~~ Tourist season will be ending soon, but that’s okay, since I have taken permanent residency at the cape. I stayed at the Marriot until my line of credit was exhausted, then I started to sleep under the stars, except for when it rained, then I would sleep under a restaurant awning. \n\nI started to offer help to the local shops. Sweeping sand off of the pier, cleaning windows. I told them that I didn’t need pay; give me a t-shirt. Give me a necklace made of seashells. I want to dress myself in the cape, become a part of it. Most of the shops sent me away, politely, but I met one older gentleman who enjoyed my company. He sold burgers, clam strips, and soda. I worked and he fed me. I talked to him about my problems, and he sympathized, telling me he had a brother himself who was deranged. \n\n“Hurt some people. Real dangerous kid. Lost control. They lobotomized him.” \n\nAfter I finish writing the list of restaurants I still need to vist, and the list of places I've seen Phil hiding with his hose which I should avoid, I plan on sitting on the beach and looking out at the water. I don’t go in anymore. If I look long enough, the surface boils over like a stew pot. Shame really, I enjoyed swimming. Third greatest loss in my life. The second I haven’t heard from since she left. Pretending to control my delirium, I sometimes imagine that Erin emerges from the ocean, her hair braided with algae. She would curl a finger at me, beckoning me to join her in the cape.\n\nIf I could, I would leap right in, swim with the current and grasp her, kiss her, and let her submerge me like an anchor. \n", "When I was in second grade, my father's mother forgot my name; at sixteen she first mistook me for her sister. By the time I started my first real job, working as an architect in Boston, she had taken to calling me \"Sophie,\" her sister's name, and no amount of correction could convince her otherwise right up until her death.\n\nMy genetics were primed to betray me from the beginning, and the diagnosis came as no surprise. I just had never imagined it happening so soon.\n\nSo I decided to go back to my home town to see my parents. If there was ever anywhere in the world that could keep me sane for just a little longer, home would be it: already, driving down those familiar roads, I could smell the magnolia tree in our front yard, see the tire swing hanging off its branches, hear my father's Red Sox game warbling from the window of the house. Yes, this trip would be good for me. One last visit home to tell them that I loved them while I was still able.\n\nI wasn't afraid. I might have been, maybe should have been, to be diagnosed so young, but it had always been an inevitability. See, Kate, this is what will happen to you, my grandparents' dementia seemed to say. I wondered, briefly, how old my parents would be before it took them, too.\n\nI pulled into the driveway of my parents' house, taking in the comfort of it all for perhaps the last time: the fragrant breeze, the green shutters - even the sounds of the baseball game, although they'd taken down the tire swing. Just as well, really. They were no longer young, and I wasn't very likely to give them grandchildren now, was I?\n\nI rang the bell and heard some movement before a woman answered the door, young and curious with flushed, round cheeks. \"Can I help you?\" She asked.\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\n\"Um...Jessica?\" She said it like a question, which seemed foolish; either she was Jessica or she wasn't.\n\n\"Can I help you?\" She repeated, filling in my silence. \"Is there someone I can call for you, ma'am?\"\n\n\"Where are the owners?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry?\"\n\nEither she was sorry or she wasn't. I told her as much this time, and her rosy face wrinkled. She turned back into the house and shut the door.\n\nAs I glanced over the house - the grey siding, the green shutters, the painted brown door that I knew so well - slowly a fuzzy reality played out in the corners of my mind: my mother's funeral, a black dress, my father's tears catching in the wrinkles of his cheeks. My father's funeral, a black dress, me, alone at his headstone. A man kneeling in front of me with a small box in his hand. A baby, gurgling happily. Whose baby? A wedding, a graduation, and a child calling me Gran. The tire swing, lazily spinning in circles on a hot summer evening. The scent of magnolias and the tinny televised sounds of Fenway Park. \n\nWas any of it ever true? It couldn't be true, could it? Either it was or it wasn't, but I no longer had the energy to sort out which was which. I stood there, glanced down at my spotted hands, while Jessica watched me from a window with her vacant brown-eyed stare and a phone pressed to her ear, and finally I sat on the step and closed my eyes. \n\nA man will come by, sooner or later, and he'll take me gently by the arm. He'll call me \"Mom\" and tell me this time was really it, they'll have to send me somewhere now, but that he'll come and see me often with the kids. He doesn't really believe that last bit, I can see it in his face, but he seems like a nice man and he has my father's blue eyes so I'll go with him for now and tomorrow, maybe, I'll go see my old tire swing." ]	4
The content of the conversation and the reason for it's one-sidedness are entirely up to you. If the reason the conversation has for being one-sided is well-crafted and noticeable, more power to you!	[WP] Write a very one-sided conversation.	[ "You never deserved this.\n\nYou spent nine long fucked up years doing everything you could to keep the days from coming. You never really had a reason for it. Sure he was a stubborn asshole and beat her, you stood in the middle more times than you could count on a calculator from as young as you could remember. It started at 14, a little to drink here, a small pill here. Just to help you sleep right? It was pathological, the lies you told, you believed it. Fast forward 5 years and you just couldn’t take it anymore, you were a full blown addict. We would swallow, drink and smoke anything we could get our hands on and then you found the magic. It all started because he was such a selfish bastard that he spent all the money he made on alcohol and shit he didn’t need. It was a weekly worry about whether or not we’d have a place to live, so you started selling powder to help pay the mortgage, but you need to know what you’re selling, so you had to sample. Samples became daily. Lines became grams, grams turned into eight balls. Fuck my face hurts. You found out how to cook and smoke it and it was over from there. That rush, SHIT. It made you forget everything from the past; it made you forget that she was pregnant but left you the same day only to run to Texas to marry some random guy. It made you forget that when you were 6 he.. just.. wouldn’t.. stop… touching. Every day it was pushing the limit, you had an ENDLESS supply, if it wasn’t a scene from Scarface you don’t know what it. So you would smoke more and more and hours turned into days and even a week non stop. You didn’t know it at the time, but you were trying to end it all. It was just a slow way to suicide. You would steal and pilfer. Remember that lady you held up in the parking lot with a knife? I’ve never seen a person more terrified, and why, because you were just testing the limits. A whole year went by like that, hoping and praying that this would be the last hit from the pipe and we would black out.\n\nBut then something happened. She came back.. divorced.\n\nDue in a week and she lays it on us. There’s two of you.\n\nUn-fucking-believable.\n\nThey’re 7 now. And we’re sober. They think so highly of me, but if they only knew, I’m pure unadulterated pure evil. God will never forgive me for the things I’ve done and they will never know how every time I look at them I wish it I had the fucking courage to end it. That how the happiness they bring me is so undeserved.\nThey asked about grandpa today, they were crying that they missed him because two weeks ago we went to his funeral. It was on the news and everything.\n\nAll I know is I just couldn’t take it anymore.", "\"Look I'm sorry.\"\n\"I didn't mean to break the toilet, it's not really my fault.\"\n\n\"Shit ok yeah it is my fault, and I totally meant to break it.” \n\n“HEY before you start yelling let me explain first! Remember it's not like you haven't broken shit while fucked out of your mind before. Do I need to remind you about the 'Bowling Ball and Chandelier incident' nope? So just let me explain, and you’ll see that it has a perfectly reasonable explanation just like that incident.\"\n\n“I got super hammered and then I got super high and I thought that mole-men were climbing out of it to kill us in our sleep, so really I did it to protect us from the mole-man menace. It was an act of love for me to destroy that toilet, I sealed their only entrance into this world, or at least that's what I thought while cross-faded out of my mind.\"\n\n\"All I'm saying is that we've both done stupid shit and that we both make mistakes and that we both should forgive each other. Like friends do, you know remember in Shrek when Donkey is all like 'Because that's what friends do, they forgive each other!' That was a great movie...\"\n\n\"Right the toilet! Point is I'll pay for it and we can just go back to being friends and shit? Come on life's an adventure and it's better with friends than enemies, and I want you to know I am really and truly sorry about this.\" \n\n\"Speaking of adventure, want to light up and watch Shrek?\"", "\"What? Nothing to say?\" I asked my boyfriend then added \"You're not usually one for staying silent. Always have to have the last word.\"\n\n I could see the anger in his eyes and though he looked like he wanted to he said nothing. \"Fine. No need to talk. I can fill the silence\" I told him. \n\nAgain he didn't reply, so I continued \"I remember when we first met. You were a perfect gentlemen. When we first started dating you would always compliment me. You don't do that anymore.\" \n\nHe only stared at me. My boyfriend is a banker. He also has a reputation to the people in this city. All but one anyway. The police sheriff, Colins, had many reasons for not liking him, and he and I had a good friendship. So, I kept in touch with him. My boyfriend assumed we had an affair. That never happened. \"I remember we would take walks and hold hands. Now all you do is drink an come home angry.\" \n\nI paused for a moment \"The first time you hit me you apologized and promised it was a mistake. When it happened again you convinced me again you loved me and wouldn't hurt me. Well, John, you did and multiple times I forgave you.\" John said nothing. \n\n\"We seem like a perfect couple. Many people probably believe it too. I know I did, but then I got smarter and here we are.\" I told him harshly then added \"The police are on their way. I called sheriff Colins. You have no where to run, and you won't be able to run anywhere.\" I received a glare at this and smiled slightly.\n\n\"You won't be able to hurt another woman. See Colins warned me about you and I talked to Jenna and Claire. The other two you hurt, and the ones who couldn't get you arrested. Not enough evidence your lawyers all said.\" \n\nAt this I picked up a box and threw it at his feet. He looked down at it and his eyes widened. All were pictures of me. Mostly my face, but some were my arms and legs. All had bruises. \"I'm done being a victim.\" \n\nHe could only watch as I left the room. A few minutes later sheriff Colins followed by two officers came to the basement of the house Jonathan Turner and his girlfriend shared. \"This will hurt for a moment.\" The sheriff warned and pulled the duct tape off Jonathan's mouth.\n\nAfter a hiss of pain John yelled \"Did you get the bitch!?!\"\n\nThe sheriff looked at one of the officers and replied \"Yes, we did. Officer Jenkins arrest the bitch.\"\n\nJonathan smirked triumphantly until the officer pulled cuffs out and instructed him to put his hands behind his back. Jonathan complied and after being read his Miranda rights was lead to a car which took him to jail. Colins picked up the box of pictures. \"Got him.\"" ]	3
	[WP] An incredibly popular superhero is found with multiple dead, mutilated bodies in his/her basement. Describe the news report the next day.	[ "\"This is Tom Tucker with Action News 5. Our top story tonight: five dead bodies have been found in Quahog resident May Parker's basement. We go live to Asian reporter Tricia Takanawa for the latest.\"\n\n\"Tom, I'm standing outside the residence of May Parker. She lives alone with her nephew, and apparently five decomposing bodies. Unaware of the five bodies in her basement skirting rent, she went down the stairs to make a startling discovery.\"\n\n\"I went down to the basement to do a load of the wash, and along the back wall I saw....I saw...five young redheaded girls hanging from what appeared to be some sort of web. They were clearly dead, but I haven't the faintest idea how they got there. I think I would've noticed a spider as big as a man in my home. It just doesn't make sense.\"\n\n\"Suspiciously missing from the scene is Peter, Mrs. Parker's unpopular nephew. She says he can disappear for days at a time and has an odd fascination with arachnids. Despite Peter's seemingly damning links to the crime, police have identified a local young man named Jerome as the main suspect. He was seen walking down Mrs. Parker's street a few weeks ago minding his own business, but they decided it was better to be safe than sorry. Back to you Tom.\"\n\n\"Incredible stuff Tricia. Say, don't you eat spider eggs in whatever weird country you're from? We go now to Ollie Williams, who is standing by with Jerome. What can you tell us about this fellow Ollie?\"\n\n\"NIGGA INNOCENT!\"\n\n\"Haha, well let's not make assumptions here Ollie. Say Diane, did you know spiders have eight legs?\"\n\n\"I did Tom. Why?\"\n\n\"Cause I'd like to show you my third leg after the show.\"\n", "“God. What were we thinking?”\n\nMurphy was standing with his chest puffed out, circled by a SWAT team, if you could call it that. A small group of men, either too young or too old, desperately tried to steady their shaking guns and avoided the eyes of their target at all costs. No one could have blamed them. What the fuck did LA need a SWAT team for anymore when we had Murphy? If you can shoot a bird down with a pistol, are you going to grab the bow and arrow?\n \n“Sir. I have asked you to kneel with your hands behind your head. Do not make me ask you again.” The SWAT officer ducked his head with the last sentence. Probably a good move, since Murphy’s eyes glowed bright red.\n\n\t“Are you people fucking kidding me,” Murphy bellowed. \n\nEveryone on the screen tried to cover their ears. Two SWAT officers dropped their guns to clasp their ears. At least I didn’t have to worry about supersonic vocals as I bored into the television screen. Still, from the corner of my eyes I saw a group of birds fly.\n\n“Would you rather everybody fucking die? Do you want this town to go to shit?”\n\nSilence. Murphy’s eyes were returning to normal, but I didn’t lessen the grip on my wrist. Now that this all came out, we were stupid for not seeing it earlier. What kind of hero calls himself “Murphy”? That should have been clue number one, big red flag and loud alarm to boot. \n\nMurphy looked around, daring someone to answer him. Most people backed away. One kid, peeked from behind his shield, licked his lips.\n\n“Sir, I’m sure we’re all,” the kid stopped and his head melted into his shoulders as Murphy stared him down, “all…thankful. I mean, I am. You saved my brother once. It’s just…”\n\nThe kid sobered up from whatever courage-high he was on; he backed up in line with his fellow officers when Murphy took a deep breath. It could have been annoyance, it could have been prep for an icy gust. For now, no one found out.\nThe standoff was silent again. The channel 4 news correspondent took the opportunity to inform us, yet again, that eight mutilated bodies had been found in Los Angeles’ beloved hero’s, Murphy’s, basement. I wished they would just shut the fuck up until they had something new to say. \n\nFinally, Murphy broke the silence.\n\n“I know this looks bad. Those people…” Murphy turned to look at several body bags piled behind him. “Those were not…murder.” Someone with balls of steel scoffed. Murphy raised a sculpted arm, waved his hand, and the scoffer was pushed back several feet as, I assume, his balls receded back into his body. Murphy got back into his power stance, fists at his side.\n\n“I need them, ok? I need them to survive. I can’t use all this power without more energy,” Murphy said, each word followed by a short exhale. \n\nChannel 4 spoke up. I was sure he saw his career as lead anchor unfolding before his eyes.\n\n“As in, their lives enable you to keep your powers?”\n\nMurphy nodded. Then his shoulders fell and he rubbed his temples. The SWAT officers that were still holding up their guns lowered them. The one that talked about his brother spoke up again.\n\n“But, Murphy, they’re still people.”\n\nThe crowd murmured.\n\n“Yes. But I pick carefully,” Murphy said as he crossed his arms, “these people were criminals, shitty people. Really, I’m just ridding the world of more evil. I mean, I could just take what I need from the prison or something.”\n\nMurphy’s words boiled under the surface of my skin. On the broadcast, an old man lifted the visor of his helmet. His gray mustache quivered a bit. \n\n“Well, that aint bad. Ain’t nothing more than we do when we take somebody down. I think I could live with that. Right fellas?”\n\nA few people nodded. Some of the younger ones laughed from relief before the whole situation completely deescalated. Murphy smiled; half appreciative, half smug, as if to say, “I don’t need your damn permission but thanks anyway.”\n\nChannel four turned to the camera and smiled.\n\n“Well folks, I think most of us can live with that. We just want our Murphy back.” He smiled and looked down. \n\nI cracked my knuckles and looked up. All around me, my fellow convicts shuffled in their chairs, their eyes locking on the door, waiting to see what would come through.\n" ]	2
	[WP]: "We used to call them 'humans'."	[ "\"We used to call them 'humans'.\" I sigh, I had hoped to never have to tell my spawn of the darkness that loomed in the void. Usually it was a singular beast or a small swarming group of creatures, but they had changed that and she didn't need to know.\n\n\"Why did their title change, Frenma?\" My spawn really was too innocent for this, but it would be wrong to deprive the truth from those who ask. Her eyes readjusted and fell around her head in the way that just melts my hearts. I regret having mentioned humans so early in her development, something so pure shouldn't have to violated by knowledge of something so evil.\n\n\"They were the first truly intelligent life to come from the void, they brought with them new ideas and the hope for mutual advancement.\" Looking out the window at the wastelands that surround our once beautiful esate, I recall those short months where there was a promising future with the Kremivz. \"For probably four months we established strong ties with them and offered technology in good faith. They promised to return with gifts of their own. They didn't.\"\n\n\"That's not very nice at all! I don't like those humans!\" My spawn dropped back into her chair and frowned. \"Why did they steal our power but not give power back?\"\n\n\"Most think they had bad intentions from the start, but I chose to believe they came pure and were corrupted by the void.\" To emphasize my thought, I glance at the holoport on our ceiling as it shows the void through the noxious gases encompassing our planet. \"As our archaic fathers once warned against, we never enter the void for what it could do to our immortal soul. But they came from far away on the otherside of the void, no one could save purity after that long in it.\"\n\n\"What happened when they returned?\" Her eyes no longer sat in the same innocent manner they once did, they reflected her internal panic at knowing intelligent corruption had shown her it's wrath. \"...is that what happened yesterday?\"\n\n\"I'm afraid so, Uinmx. Something new returned, using their flesh and metal to exploit our lands, sear our flesh, extinguish our purity, and silence our hope. No longer human, they were Kremivz.\"", "Old Crow languished in the sum, black feathers primly preened and gleaming. Young Deer grazed innocently, brown just starting to run over her fawn spots. Fat Bear was telling tall tales to her brood, two new cubs to chase and caw at. Muzzles sweet with berry juice and tender bark they clamored for more as the sun set on the last cautionary tale. Deer lifted her head, ears huge and aloft, twining around their careless voices. \n\n'Have you heard of the last ones, little cubs?' She asked, tail flicking. They chorused a 'No!', and greedily recognized the beginnings of another story. \n\n'The last ones. They stand not so talk as your mother, nor so small as Old Crow there. They have soft bodies and no tails, no fawn spots on their young, no feathers to crown their heads. They have flat faces and hide themselves under colorful plants and furs. They used to be plentiful for Cougar to hunt, before he grew old and crippled. Have I scared you yet? No, I see. These animals made many sounds and ate many things. We used to call them 'humans'.'", "Sammy struggled to sit still in class. Her servos ached, and she loved listening to the intermixed clicks and whirrs as her wrist rolled around at the end of her arm. Timing her wrist movements just so, she could kind of create the slow rhythm she often heard before bed. \n\nTeacher was talking about history. Another lesson about the creators. It was long and boring, as her history lesson usually was. Yesterday, teacher had been talking about why they even bothered with bodies at all. Sammy couldn't remember the reason. Alexandr had created a wonderful day-dream and messaged it to her. She had spent most of the day yesterday outside the stuffy class-room, playing as a astromech repairing a colony-ship moments before disaster struck.\n\nUh-oh. Teacher was looking at her. She scanned his active emotions and was worried. He seemed impatient and angry. \"Samantha, we've been talking about the creators for two days. Can you tell me one thing you've learned about them?\"\n\n\"Well, I think... We used to call then 'humans'?\"" ]	3
Suprise me :)	[wp] cheerleader makes fun of fat girl; fat girl retaliates and fattens up cheerleader, tell me about how it happens and what the cheerleaders first day back at school is.	[ "Betty raised an arm slowly, gravy dripping from her fingers and gurgling from her mouth as she panted from the effort of raising her hippo-like limb. Finally she had her greasy finger pointed out at the cheerleader, and she spat out the words \"Fat Beam\" as well as the rest of her shepards pie. \n\nThe ray shot from her finger into the cheerleader's mouth, and lard immediately bursted out of nose as her intestines overflowed. Her stomach distended like she was ready to give birth to triplets before the fat seeped into her bloodstream, expanding every artery and inflating the cheerleader like a lumpy human balloon stuffed in a miniskirt.\n\nA single tear slid its way down the pudgy contour of the cheerleader's cheek as she contemplated her new existence. Once Betty had finished her food she licked away that tear, leaving a fat trail of spittle and ground beef behind to assert her dominance. ", "\"P-i-g\" I could hear the whisper as if it was right in my ear. She was pointing at me, whispering to her friends as if I didn't know. \n\nI figured... why not get back at her? She needed a taste of her own medicine, but \"t-w-i-g\" isn't exactly an insult to her.\n\n The restaurant would give me a good cover. Adding sugar to everything, pure carbohydrates mixed in with the cheese, giving her a dessert and have the waiter say it was on the house even though it was coming out of my paycheck.\n\n She became addicted over the summer to coming to Joe's Pizza. I became disgusted watching her gorge herself each time. I began eating less, she began eating more. She tried going to cheer camp but she didn't make the weight cut, but I did. I had lost fifty pounds, she had gained fifty pounds. She didn't come to school on the first day, the second day she did, her face all broken out and oily, her shirt seemed 4 sizes to small. \n\n\"P-i-g,\" rang out in the hallway. She started crying, crying, as if she didn't deserve what she got. \n\nI found her in the bathroom.\n\n\"P-i-g\" \n\nI whispered, hearing her start to heave, to throw up her food.\n\n\nedit* spelling\n" ]	2
	[WP] You are a US Marine in Afghanistan, your best friend was just killed by an insurgent. You have the opportunity to take the insurgent's life but you choose not to. Why?	[ "5/11/09\r\rI almost missed this entry- more like I almost said \"fuck it\" and went to sleep. Today we had our first raid on a Jewish man's home. We had news he might be hiding Taliban members under his flat, and so me, Charles, Jones, Karowak, Nates, and a few others broke the second story door down at around 1100. We'd caught him eating cereal and watching middle east looney toons. He was with his son, but we didn't care, the adrenaline was too high at that point. \r\rThe kid screamed, naturally, and the guy dropped his bowl of cheerios and said something in Arabic. \"Don't shoot\" maybe. The guy was skeletal, I mean not an ounce of fat on him. He has dirty brown dreads to his neck, and when the kid ran off Jones and another guy followed; Karowak grabbed the dreads with two hands and dragged the man attached out of the room and down two flights of stairs. Charlie went with him. After that, it was deathly quiet, just me and Nates and I think the others were Boyd, Tom, and Jacque. We could hear the man getting further away, but we couldn't hear Jones. The next few seconds were slow-motion boot stomps on a dirty wood floor, guns up. We made it to the inside stairs, where Jones and the other guy went when we heard a single gunshot. \r\rI came down first and I almost squeezed the trigger on some other kid holding a revolver. No Taliban. The Jewish guy's son was a bloody heap in the corner of the garage next to a half open wicker basket. Jones was shot through the right eye and all I could think about was a week ago when we talked about high school and how he saw me as a leader. King Arthur, he called me. That kid's face though. He couldn't have been twelve, trembling all over, the gun was out of his hands. I'm pretty sure we had the same twisted visage of anger, confusion, and misunderstanding. But he had taken the life, so maybe he had a little more of everything in his. \r\rMy stomach knotted. No one shot. Everyone wanted to. The only reason I didn't is because I know I'll see that kid again when I come back home. In every arcade, school, or public pool I'll see him. I don't want his death on my conscience because I have no other excuse for it than he killed my best friend. For that boy it was enough, but not for me. ", "A bullet whizzed past Tim's ear and slammed into the wall behind him. A spray of brick and mortar from behind stung his neck and ricocheted off his helmet with loud plinking sounds. He made an extra effort to crouch behind the crumbling structure that served as his cover. Next to him, Austin didn't even react, aiming and firing as if he were back home spending a lazy day at the shooting range. Tim prayed, this time to Vishnu, that the two of them would make make it out alive for one more day. Tim had never really ascribed himself to any certain religion, but in times when he could really use some divine intervention, he picked a god and sent a few words his or her way in case anyone really was listening. Some days it was Allah, some days Jesus Christ, some days Chang'e, others it was Athena or Artemis. Today it was Vishnu. \n\"See that Timmy? Austin shouted in his strong Midwestern tone. \"A few more inches to the left and that towel-head's brains woulda had to find a new home!\" Tim grunted in response. He hated that phrase, towel-head, but now wasn't the time to lecture his friend about it. He looked through his scope. Three insurgents stood behind a barricade about one hundred yards from where Tim and Austin were. \n__Bang.__ \nTwo insurgents. Austin let out a whoop and ducked down a bit while a barrage of bullets came his way. Tim felt like he was going to be sick. \n\"One down, two to go! Hoorah, let's get em.\" Austin knew Tim didn't like providing anything more than covering fire, but the enemy seemed pretty accurate today. Austin should be able to handle this by himself, but he hoped his friend would be able to put aside his humanity if it came down to it. \nTim watched Austin pop up from behind the wall, shoot, duck down again, and repeat. He was one of the better marksmen in their unit. He easily could have done this mission alone, but where Austin went, Tim went too. Austin gave a shout as he took down another insurgent. Tim let out a long breath. They'd be out of here before he knew it. One more enemy soldier today, and one more month of life in Afghanistan after they got back to the base. Tim smiled at the thought. He looked through his scope at the last soldier left across the desert from them. Austin had been firing at him for five minutes now with no luck, but from where Tim was crouched the man was a sitting duck. \n\"Austin,\" Tim yelled, \"swap positions with me! He's exposed over here, you'll be able to get him no problem!\" Austin nodded in agreement. Tim shot a few rounds across the way as cover and motioned for Austin to make the switch. Austin popped up, sent a few inaccurate rounds of his own across the way, and began a hunched-over waddle to Tim's position. Tim peppered the enemy's area with gunshots, but to his surprise the man standing stark in his sights made no attempt to get down. The Afghan soldier fired once. Twice. What could be be doing, Tim wondered. Tim looked back a moment to see if maybe there were men behind him the enemy soldier was shooting at. A third shot came their way. Austin screamed. Tim's best friend had been shot. Tim dove to the ground, prone. In front of him lay Austin, a hole in his chest, a bigger hole in his back, dead. Time seemed to slow. Austin had died before he could process what was happening and it was before Tim's eyes that Austin's entire life now flashed. \nTim and Austin had met in the third grade. Tim was one of the advanced children in the large forty-child class, and when Austin, a dyslexic, transferred into the group in the middle of the year, it was Tim that had to help him with his schoolwork. Tim didn't mind, because where he excelled at school, Austin excelled as an athlete. In the classroom, Tim sat with Austin as he sounded out picture books books to his friend. When the boys were sorting out that day's football teams at recess, Austin always picked Tim first. Tim saw the day in grade eight when Austin ran up to him grinning ear to ear over the large 97% written across the top of the Geography final that Tim had spent weeks helping him study for. The afternoon in ninth grade when Austin fought off a few of the larger juniors who thought it would be funny to pick on Tim for making the Top Honors list in the first semester. That fateful day in eleventh grade when a Marine recruiter came to talk to their class about a future in the military. Austin seemed absolutely taken by the idea, Tim remembered, his friend making no hesitation in signing the two of them up to attend a youth experience weekend at a base a few hours out of town. After that weekend, Tim knew that Austin saw no future for himself outside of military service. \n\"Come with me!\" Austin had begged. \"You can serve four years with me and then go to college wherever you want after that! \" Tim had to admit, it was a tempting offer at the time. It was Austin's mother, however, who had convinced Tim to enlist with his friend. Austin's dad had walked out on him and his mom when he was only six, and since then Austin had been all his mother had. Now, it was the face of Austin's weeping mother that stuck in Tim's mind the most. When Austin told her his plans to join the Marines, she acted supportive and excited for her boy. What else would a mother do? There were days, though, when Tim would come over before Austin got home and would catch Austin's mother crying to herself over losing her boy. It was on one of these days that she had opened up to Tim, begging him to enlist with her son and take care of him overseas. She was the type of mother to worry that her son might poke his eye out with a pencil doing his homework at the table next to her, and the thought of him alone in Afghanistan was just too much for her. Tim never told Austin this, only that the idea of free college had finally persuaded him. The last vision of the United States Tim had was of Austin's mom crying hysterically as she watched an airplane take her only son continents away. \nIt was that face that filled Tim's stomach with a volatile mix of icy disgust and burning rage as he looked at the lifeless eyes of the man who had been his brother since they had met so many years ago. Not himself anymore, he peaked over his barricade and caught between his crosshairs the man who had just shot his best friend. Tim was surprised to find his finger on the trigger, applying slight pressure to the bit of metal that could right the wrong that had been done him. He couldn't do it. Tim collapsed to his side, the gun making a thump in the sand next to him. He wretched up a sour mix of bile and MRE, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs as Tim suppressed the urge to scream Austin's name to the heavens. \"I'm going to need an evac at my position,\" Tim croaked into his radio. \"We have a man down.\" " ]	2
Kinda long title, but hopefully you guys like this one!	[WP] Limbo is a place where you repeat the day of your death until you can prevent yourself from dying, therefore passing Limbo	[ "Camel and Katy, ten years old, begin their climb up the Mound.\n\nRight on schedule, the sirens cry from their neighborhood below.\n\nThey hear a crackle on their Walkie-Talkies, and can guess who it is.\n\nCarol has had a few too many sleeping pills this evening, she will not look for Katy.\n\nTom slaves away on the ISS, trying to stop Betel this night, he will never look for her.\n\nBut Laura will scream; her heart will be full of fear. Where is Camel? Where is her boy?\n\nHalfway up the Mound now. She is coming, of course.\n\n\"Let's play a game!\" \"Which game?\" Hide and seek, of course.\n\nThey chase each other to the peak under those vibrant stars. \n\nThe night is perfect, and Laura has made it.\n\nThe song and dance: \"Camel, I'm so scared, how can you leave me?\"\n\n\"We wanted to see the stars again.\"\n\n\"I have to protect you this time!\"\n\nShe only remembers the first time. \n\n\"Baby, I want to keep you safe. Come back inside. I'll protect you in there.\"\n\nThat's when she sees Betel.\n\nThe light that was once at the sword of Orion has dwarfed the constellation. \n\nAnd this night, the red star has already begun to grow. Only a minute, now.\n\nThe children hold hands as Laura tries to pull them away.\n\n\"When was the last time you looked at the stars, Ms. Jennings?\"\n\nShe stops and stares at Katy.\n\nThen comes the crackle. \"Laura, it's Carol. Are you with Katy?\n\nKaty, if you're there, your daddy just called. \n\nHe said he wanted you to look up tonight.\n\nHe says there's nothing we can do, but look up and smile.\n\nAnd Laura? He asked if we remembered those nights when we were kids.\n\nTwenty years is a long time, but... I miss the stars, too.\n\nLook up with us tonight, Laura. Stay with the kids. I love you all.\"\n\nAnd Laura cries. Betel, that fantastic star, fills the sky.\n\nSeconds, now. Laura lays down at the top of the Mound and looks up.\n\nCamel and Katy join as always. What an experience, to watch the sky rip away the world.\n\nThe light pours over them, and they hold hands and can't stop laughing.\n\nWhat a perfect night. Why would they ever do it different?", "(First time, be gentle)\n\nI thought it was Hell at first; reliving my death hundreds and hundreds of times, so many times that I didn’t even think about it. I was dead, I was numb, and I didn’t care. The knife slid into my ribs and I fell to the floor. My blood pooled out in the same pattern every time, and I was just starting to hear voices when it blurred out and repeated again.\n\nI don’t know how many times it was, how long I spent on that filthy floor before I woke up. Something was still alive in me- something very small and very pissed off. It burned inside me, a little hotter every time, every time that knife slid up in between my ribs and kissed my heart. And once, it got so hot that I saw him walking towards me, saw the glint of the knife as he slid it out of his sleeve and pressed it close to me, and I snarled and threw him back against the wall. I burned and yelled and woke up, and he was so scared that he put the knife right in my eye this time, so I couldn’t see it pool out and dye the floor.\n\nBut I was finally awake.\n\nIt was almost a game after that. The pain went away, and every time I made it a step further than I had before, I died with a smile on my face.\n\nHe steps towards me. His face is stone, two black eyes looking through me rather than at me. The knife is black, except for the very edge- that’s why it was so hard to see the first time, so long ago. He walks quickly, raising his arm very slightly. He’ll try to grab my shoulder, pulling me down slightly when he stabs me. I can grab his wrist, wrestle him away, put the steel back in his heart instead of mine. \n\nThere’s more of them though, so many more of them that I throw myself at, working them down like a puzzle, never quite reaching the end. I’ll never get stronger here, only more determined.\n", "It happened again today.\n\nI remember the first time, an eternity ago, it seemed so important then. The first time I died time stood still. I see the car ten feet off and closing, I see the driver, eyes wide and screaming. I can hear the screech of the tires on pavement begging to stop in time, and the screams of the people I left behind on the curb. I smell the vendor on the air, not a block up the street, and the wind carries the smell of roasted nuts, filling my nostrils with it's sweet aroma. I feel the wind heavy on my face, like it knows I'll never feel it again and it wants me to remember. I blink and turn my head, staring down at the young girl laying in the road where I pushed her. My Lily, with her beautiful blonde hair and deep blue eyes, staring terrified back at me. I manage a smile; and then nothing.\n\nThat was forever ago, maybe longer. I relive this moment over and over as if i got something wrong. My life now consists of ten second bursts punctuated by sound and light. I know what must be done to end all of this, but I find it a cruel and unusual punishment. If I just held her hand a second longer that first time, maybe she wouldn't have wandered into the road. If I hadn't brought her to the city that day, maybe I'd still be able to hold her hand and watch her grow. But, such is life, and this is my fate. I'll stay in these bursts forever, because even though I will die every time, every ten seconds until the universe runs out of ten seconds to give, I know she lives. My Lily.\n\nIt happened again today.", "-Try 1-\n\nThe frustrating beeps of the horns of the cars made trying to concentrate while driving to the airport near impossible. I tried to calm myself, but these methods just weren't working. I was driving at nearly 70 miles per hour, and constantly slamming the brakes thanks to some idiot who keeps coming into my lane.\n\nWhen I'm finally out of that damn traffic jam, I'm still angry at how long it took. If there were any more like this, I wouldn't make it on time to the airport. Thinking all these thoughts, I hardly noticed the truck passing by the intersection. Then I realize that, thanks to my reckless driving, I'm about to hit the truck. I yell, \"OH SSHHHHHIIIII-\" before I'm interrupted by the sound of my airbag coming out and not helping at all, because I was hit at the side. Then, I black out.\n\n-Try 2-\n\nWhen I come to, I hear a strange noise, getting louder and louder by the second. I look down and find I'm still wearing my seat belt, still holding the driving wheel, and obviously not dead. The strange noise was the annoying beeps of the cars. It was probably a dream, I decided. After all, could it possibly anything else? Still, it unsettled me; probably from all of those novels I've read. The resemblance from this event to that cliche is uncanny. Then I'm driving on the same road at 50 miles per hour. Not much of a chance I'd get in a car crash, but that's exactly what happened. The exact same truck hit me at my side, and I felt my body being hit by something, hard, before I lose consciousness.\n\n-Try 3-\n\nNot again. It's the exact same situation. Only this time I get out of the car, assuring myself that nothing bad can happen since the car crash only happened on the road. But the car to my left is too near for me to open my door. And when I'm beeped by the car behind me, I know I have no other choice. I step on the gas, and go to the same road. This time, I get off, and go the sidewalk. Knowing that I have cheated death this time, I laugh. Then I walk down the side walk back to the way I came from, to find a taxi. Then, just as I'm crossing the street, the driver of the truck hits my empty car, and then I get hit. Again.\n\n-Try 4 to 7-\n\nNothing is working. I've already tried going to a different road (truck magically appeared there), driving at a snail's pace, walking the other way (truck drives on the sidewalk), and grabbing a stone and throwing it at the truck (the last one ended with the driver deliberately hitting me). \nEventually, I decided that going to the airport was just too dangerous. Then the truck driver shouts, \"You...you...you son of a...\". What do I have to do to get out of this limbo?, I thought, before I get hit by the truck.\n\n-The last try-\n\nThis time, when I wake up, I don't move. I wait for the morons behind me to move to a different lane before I get out of my car. I make sure that there's no sight of that truck. I then walk down the other way, towards my house. I'm not very sure why I didn't think of this before. Probably because I was panicking, and panicking can do very strange things to your mind. I doubt that the truck will hit me now, but doubts aren't real, and mine definitely wasn't.", "There is never enough time. \nI know the bomb goes off at 8:02. I run as fast as I can but it's never fast enough. \nThey say I get to repeat the day. They say I get to have a chance to survive but it's all a sick joke. I feel that searing pain every time. I feel my flesh burn off and my bones melt in the heat until I die again. Every time I see that man across from me as he smiles at his daughter. I see that elderly couple as they share a latte. I've seen them died a thousand times. \nI'll never be able to outrun my death. ", "We'd done this for years stuck in a loop. I think I was the one who died first. It was strange he was faster than me. I always thought I was the fastest, but he got me. As I laid there bleeding, I wondered what the after life would be like.\n\nApparently the afterlife was me waking up, going to the saloon and running into O'malley just like before. We stepped outside for the duel. This time, I was the faster one. I smiled with pride figuring it was over, but the second O'malley went still, I woke up in bed.\n\nIt was the same day, I woke up went downstairs got into a fight with the Missus. This made me feel like an early drink. So I went to the Saloon,except this time O'malley was waiting for me. \n\nThat's when I realized this was his loop not mine, mostly because he shot me full of lead before we'd even met. So I woke up, went \ndownstairs, ignored my wife, heard her kick up a storm about it. \n\nThan I went to the Saloon, weapon cocked and waited for him to walk in. Than I gave him another dose of lead between the eyes. Of course I woke up, again same day.\n\nThis went on for awhile, I found out where he was staying in town. For the next 10 or 20 loops we hunted each other down around town. After the 21st loop though, I started feeling the futility of the loop and honestly felt bad about how I was acting toward my wife.\n\nThat loop I apologized to my wife, turns out she'd been mad about me about leaving my shoes out the night before. I didn't go looking for O'malley, I just had breakfast with my wife. Of course that didn't stop O'malley looking for me.\n\nHe burst in took a few shots, missed me but hit my wife all three times. Than the coward ran off. I waited, waited to wake up in my bed, figuring my wife would get a loop. It never came though, and I got angry. I waited until I thought he'd be on the edge of town than shot myself.\n\nI started again with a purpose, this time I kept trying to save my wives life. I'd apologize sit down to breakfast, than try my best to keep O'malley out, but it never worked.\n\nEventually I realized the only way to save her was fight with her in the beginning, and after who knows how many times, maybe hundreds. We just fell back into the old routine. He'd wait at the Saloon, I'd come in knock the drink on him and we'd duel.\n\nThis went on till today, I was going to try something new. I bumped into him spilling his drink on him. O'malley got into his usually puff about to suggest the duel when I said\n\n\"I'm Sorry\"\n\nHe just nodded a bit. Walking past me quickly, I heard him get on his horse and ride away. I stood there for a long while, worried every blink I had would end up with me opening my eyes in bed. \n\nIt never came though, O'malley was gone and I was alive. So I went home, I needed to apologize for leaving my shoes out.\n\n", "I die five seconds past midnight. \n\nWe're walking home from the bar. The car hurtles out of nowhere--twice the speed limit, no headlights.\n\nThere isn't time to warn him. He can't hear the engine, can't hear my scream. I press my hands against his back and shove half a second before the impact.\n\nSometimes I die instantly, without any pain. This isn't one of those times. I'm lying twisted on the asphalt, agonizingly conscious. Bones snapped, skin scraped, breathing getting more difficult by the second.\n\nHe's kneeling beside me, eyes wide with horror. It must be weeks since I've seen him smile. As he tears off his jacket and presses it against the gushing wound on my thigh, I clench and reopen the fist of my right hand. Good. Still works.\n\nHe's calling my name, begging me to stay awake. He's asking me why I didn't save myself. Slowly, I raise my hand and extend three trembling fingers, forming a sign that's both my answer and my farewell.\n\nHe sobs, and I close my eyes.\n\nMaybe this time I'll wake up in the hospital. It has to happen eventually. People live through this kind of thing all the time. \n\nI won't give up until we both do.", "\nHis eyes were opened with the warm rays of the sun slipping through the cracks of his window blinds. The man took a deep breath and untangled himself from his covers. The man slowly rose to a sit, his beautiful wife's hand reaching out and touching him on the shoulder.\n\nThree hours later, the man is seizing on the freshly cut grass of his front lawn as an artery deep in his brain ruptures and bleeds into the surrounding brain tissue, killing him. The next morning, he'd wake up again as he'd done for the last three years. Every morning ends the same. Death at 8:13 AM and immediately waking up again with sunshine. \n\nSome mornings he'd spend the limited time left with the memories of his wife, but invariably, he'd die, either collapsing onto his bed in the throes of marital passion, hitting the shower floor, or dying getting the mail. Every day like clockwork. The man woke up, ate his breakfast, tried to call his doctor, and died on the way to Dallas two hours away for surgery.\n\nThe man woke up and wrung his hands into his hair. With his voice spewing venom and ranting at his wife who didn't understand his perdicament, the man walked to his closet and drew a revolver from his safe. Pressing the end of the barrel against the roof of his mouth, the man ignored the woman's pleads and pulled the trigger, waking up as he'd done five minutes prior.\n\nThe man screamed at the top of his lungs.\n", "\"Say your prayers.\" - John held the handgun with a firm grip. His hand wasn't shaking, nor trembling in excitement, and he was well aware to keep at a safe distance. The dark suit and graying hair made him look like a professional, a hardened, cold-blooded killing machine well experienced in the art of assassination. Truth is, this was his first time holding a gun, or threatening death for what matters. He was serious, dead serious, and there was nothing I could have done to prevent my incumbent demise. I squinted my eyes, and took a muffled breath. - \"See you in hell, John.\"\n\n---\n\n\"Say your prayers.\" - John held the handgun with a firm grip. His hand wasn't shaking, nor trembling in excitement, and he was well aware to keep at a safe distance. He sure looked like a professional, despite this being his first time dirtying his hands with blood. He was serious, dead serious, and that's when I went all-in. - \"See you in hell, John.\" - I sprinted with all my might in a desperate attempt at disarming him. Unfortunately, his index finger was already on the trigger by then.\n\n---\n\n\"Say your prayers.\" - I had already heard those words. Was it a dream, or perhaps deja-vù? I couldn't just stop and think: John Benneck was aiming his shooting iron at me with the calm of a professional. But what could I do? He was clearly prepared for any sudden movement, and wasn't even at disarm range: any attempt at going all-in would have been suicidal. I had to abandon my pride if I wanted to live. \n\n\"Listen, John, I don't even care! You can patent my project and I won't let a single word slip. Just spare me, I'll fly to some other country while you'll become the richest man in America. \" \n\nJohn started walking in circles around the room, while still pointing the gun at me. \n\n\"I'm sorry. This is just something too big. You know full well how easy it would be to unmask me. But can I say no to this opportunity? Would you say no to this opportunity, Daniel?\" \n\nI wouldn't. I know I wouldn't, and yet here I was, willing to trade the most important discovery of the century for my miserable life. \n\n\"John, I-\"\n\n\"Goodbye, Dan.\"\n\n---\n\n\"I'll say my prayers.\"\n\n\"Say your pray... What? How did you...\"\n\nIt wasn't a dream. I had already heard those words, and now I was sure. John Benneck was after my invention, and his right hand was holding a gun in order to take it by force. Little did he know, it was already too late. The invention he so wanted to steal worked, and I was the living proof.\n\n\"I'm sorry. This is just something too big. I can't let you have it, John.\" \n\nAnd that's when I went all-in, over and over and over again. Death was not an obstacle, I could learn from it. Like in a video game, all I had to do was memorize the pattern and execute it perfectly. John Benneck was just the last boss of the \"Insane\" difficulty: so hard as you want - but scripted to eventually lose.\n\n---\n\n\"Say your prayers, John.\"\n\n\"Say...Wait, what? HEY, STOP!\"\n\nBut I was already there. With an extremely fast, yet extremely precise movement, I grabbed his arm, and turned it around in such a way that would force him to drop the gun. I then proceeded to trip him and quickly picked up the weapon.\n\nI held the handgun with a firm grip. My hand was slightly shaking and trembling in excitement, but I was aware to keep at a safe distance. The casual clothes and unkempt hair made me look like your usual middle aged man, someone you'd never ever expect to be an experienced assassin. Truly enough, this was my first time holding a gun, or threatening death for what matters. But I was serious, dead serious, and there was nothing John could have done to prevent his incumbent demise. Benneck squinted his eyes, and took a muffled breath. - \"See you in hell, Daniel.\"", "It feels like eternity. I drop a couple bills on the counter, fumble with the coins the cashier slides forward, grab my coffee and wait. One, two-\n\nI drop a couple bills on the counter.\n\nThe first few times, I tried to stop it from happening, but gave up quickly enough. After that, I looked around instead, saw the people outside, got familiar with every feature of the clerk.\n\nHis hair is wavy brown, darker where it's sticking to his head with sweat. His right cheek has some tiny craters on it, maybe acne, maybe smallpox? I remember seeing an Indian man with smallpox scars like that last year. He doesn't look happy, no matter what I do. I told him a few jokes while we were still on tries in the twenties, but he just started back, empty eyed, tired and uncaring. He hands me back my change, I have some trouble getting the quarter on my thumb.\n\nI drop a couple bills on the counter.\n\n\"Nice knowing you.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\nI drop a couple bills on the counter, but I don't wait for the change this time. It must be in the hundreds, maybe more, but who's keeping track? Instead of testing my hand on the counter, waiting for the coins I grab my coffee, get the lid half off and throw it onto his chest. He screams and doubles over, and I start screaming back.\n\n\"Outside! Two men!\"\n\nHe's back up and holding the shotgun from under the counter, a lucky guess on my part. The miscalculation this time is that he didn't hear me, or thought I was saying something else, and while the two men look in, confused, pistols lowered, he fires into my chest. It's more like a kick than I expected, and I slam into the aisle racks, blinking, lungs empty. He still has the barrel pointing at me when my vision clears, and before he can get out a word there's another blast, the station window fracturing, and his head slamming into the counter, red behind, across from, and on it.\n\nA couple seconds later and I'm at least breathing, wincing every time from the sting, but I stop when the door chimes open, and both men cone in. \n\n\"The fuck you think that was about?\"\n\n\"No idea, man. Go check on that asshole. I'll get the register.\"\n\nThe first one steps over, pulls up his mask, and squats down in front of me.\n\n\"Can you hear me alright? Looks like he got you with a chest full of rocksalt!\"\n\nThat explains the stinging. I try to say something, but all that comes out is a choked gurgle and some blood.\n\n\"Mickey, you said it yourself. No witnesses.\"\n\n\"Right,\" he turns back to me, \"sorry friend.\"\n\nI hold the bills in my hand, not shaking, not opening.\n\n\"Mickey's outside,\" the cashier's eyes don't look dead anymore, \"I'm going to throw this coffee on you. Shoot them.\"\n\nHe's dumbstruck, mouth slightly open, not ready. I drop the bills and empty the coffee on his shirt. He doubles over, and I turn to the left. Both men have their guns down, definitely surprised. Forward again, and he's come up level with the counter, his gun resting flat. The first barrel knocks out the window and puts the smaller man on the ground, his pistol out of reach. The second shot lands just as well, but hits more of the man's hand, sending his pistol further back. The next few minutes I stand in silence. There's yelling outside, one shot, two, more yelling. Neither of the men are dead. Inside the station the clerk left the phone off the hook, 911 operator listening, and occasionally speaking. After about ten minutes, the police arrive. We're sitting on the ground, weapons aside, and the robbers are clutching their chests and knees. We're brought back to the station, security footage is reviewed, and I'm released after questioning. \n\nThe drive home is the strangest part. I give Sarah a call, tell her I got caught up in traffic, but I'll be home soon. I ask to talk to Jason. She says he's at a friend's house.\n\n\"I love you.\"\n\n\"You too. See you soon!\" \n\nI hang up and start writing a message.\n\n\"Hey Jason, give me a call once you get this.\"\n\nI look back up after pressing send, and the semi's bumper can't be more than six feet from my face.\n\n\n\n\nEdit: like 12 words " ]	10
	[WP] Tell the most disturbing story you can, break into your inner insanity and terrify me, but include a love story.	[ " Every night, I look out the window, to a spot under the street light. A yellowish glowing area from the stupid light, nothing different than any other streetlights gaze. Am I manifesting something to be there? Am I actually calling out for something to come to me? Oh I hope not. What was coming from beyond my eyesight's aim? I don't want to know, but I don't want to be unready for its appearance. Every night, I look to under the light. Every night I am hoping it never shows. Tonight I will do the same. I am sure nothing is there, but I also want it to be there, so I can stop looking to that point, under the street light. The color of the street is almost a paused screen, waiting for me to press play. When it rains, I can feel it coming. What is it that wants me to look there? Why am I thinking about this in the mid-day sun? I'll go check, nothing special. The space is very calming, almost peaceful but yet, I can see the light bulb hanging from its' housing, unaware of what I am thinking, but ready for what is to come. Why am I writing this? Who am I writing it for. What is going to happen at 4am under that street light? I am so sick of looking out there. That spot across the street is so creepy. It's 4:34 right now. Stupid. It looks pretty cool out there now. Like a spot to go have a smoke. Great idea. Clock says 4:38, I'm gonna go to my spot and smoke this butt. That'll make the looking out there, less creepy. Stupid light.", "Charles lay down the book. Well, novella anyways. He couldn't accurately manage to pinpoint the specific time and place from where on he became hopelessly entranced by the proletarian simpleness of it all. Glory and the Free Riders, 157 pages of romantic colonial trash involving the elaborate love affair of an American aristocrat with a mulatto slave-legionnaire. Rather ridiculous, but what could you expect of a simpler time? Total rubbish indeed, but at the same time incredibly entertaining and entirely illegal in all parts of the Empire.\n\nNot that it mattered to him, considering the fact that his mother was Queen. This reminded him that his work for today wasn't done yet. While his mind slowly returned from its exile in idle thought into the black, leathery cabin of his limousine, he observed the scenery outside. The automobile rumble onwards on cobbled English country streets. Lush cultured landscaped rushing past his window, a lazy evening sun brushing the roofs of hamlets build in Tudor times. A few handsome boys were milling around in the river, their bare chests exposed, fresh adolescent muscles showing. A wonderful evening indeed, at least measured by the sights.\n\n\"James\", he queried, \"how long until we reach the hospital?\". His assistant informed him that they would arrive at Dr. Bazinet's facility in another three minutes. Charles could feel his anticipation rise. It wasn't so much that he was actively afraid of Antoine, merely slighty unnerved. The scientist's eyes were measuring up anyone, constantly, regardless of class, standing or social occasion. But his results were remarkable, and so his unorthodox bearings were tolerated.\n\nAntoine was already waiting for him as he stepped out of the car. He asked James to wait inside the household and refresh himself. The old man could use a break; it had been a busy day for everyone. This stop of this day's tour as the freshly minted Minister of Science would be the last for today. Tomorrow, he would have a less exhausting day with a small social occasion involving a few philantrophists and the Deans of Oxford and Cambridge.\n\nThe men exchanged pleasantries as they meeted, Antoine visibly trying to rush the, in his view, obnoxious procedure, eager to show his masters of his latest contribution to British supremacy in the field of medicine. The hospital itself lay cradled in the landscape of southern England, a Victorian villa build during the height of said Queen's reign. It was initially build as one of the very last womens' cloister, now refurbished to have a more worldly purpose.\n\nEnterning the hospital, Charles swiftly greeted the secretary at the entrance desk who were by now used to high-class visitors and not remarkably moved when Antoine continued to usher them to his latest experiment.\n\nFinally, resting in front of a heavy steel door, Charles, Antoine and a few of his aides switched into clean white scientist uniforms, donned head nets and rubber gloves. Charles recognised one of the men present, a young man whose mother immigrated to England during the troubles in central Europe. His name was Werner. The prince remembered him from five years ago, where Werner acquired one of the valuable Royal stipends and promptly thanked the crown by fucking Charles in a way only repressed Catholic boys were able to. Their eyes met for a moment, a brief recollection of a wondeful shared moment in the past. Both smiled. Maybe this was going to be interesting after all.\n\nAntoine didn't notice, and if he did, he didn't seem to care much. He was already in the process of rattling down facts, explaining medical theory, why their work revamped understanding of this particular field (this time it was neurology), just as it has done before with immunology, virology, germ theory, operational procedures and plenty more. The steel door opened. \n\nThe men, one-by-one, disinfected themselves in a brief shower and wandered into a white-tiled room. It wasn't smell that hit you first. In fact, it mostly smelled of disinfectant. But the noises, disgusting. To preserve the sanity of the nurses, the specimen that weren't silent by themselves had to be gagged. But some still managed to blurt out horrible noises. Ah well, the price of science. \n\n\"We haven't been able to control them to our liking, yet\", Antoine apologised. A row of six steel medical tables, each one equipped with instruments Charles didn't recognise, were placed equidistantly along a straight line. Four of them were slightly tilted, the specimen's - in fact, one speciwoman's - feet closer to the bottom than their heads. All were black. War prisoners from Nigeria? Illegals from Jamaica? Or lowlifes cleaned from the street of London?\n\nIt didn't matter. Antoine moved the group the female's table. Her eyes were watering and she was clearly alive. This was remarkable, given that the top part of her head was clearly open, a myriad of thin gossamer steel threads invading her brain from all sides and angles. \"Oh my!\", Antoine exclaimed in exasperation. \"One of those damn nurses managed to screw with the calibration again. How hard can it be to take some blood samples without messing up an entire afternoon's worth of data.\" He entered some controls into the machine, fiddled with some arcane gearworks and soon enough, the brain threads as Charles now called them, moved in barely visible manners. The 'patient' stopped to cry, staring blankly at Charles and the doctors.\n\n\"Remarkable\", he heard himself speak. And it was true. While the brain of a black woman wasn't as complicated as that of a higher race, one had to admit that it was a step-up from the half-hearted attempts at neurally alterting the emotional states of mice or household pets. \"Show me what you can do\". Antoine's face was brushed with just the briefest of smiles. \n\nOver the next half an hour, Charles was astounded by an ever-increasing, fascinating display of the wonders of modern science, if one just funded it well enough. While the Russians might object to such experiments with their usual unfounded brabble about human dignity, the average Ivan still, miraculously, managed to obtain British medicine when it suited him. Antoine made the specimen laugh, cry, scream and even shit themselves on one occasion. He even managed to artificially subdue the hygenic instinct and nearly triggered Werner's excrement fetish Charles still remembered.\n\nYet the most fascinating moment would have to be the one where the female patient entered a more lucid state of consciousness. Up to then, Charles hadn't even noticed that while the patients were reacting to the orders of Antoine, bare their unseeming noises they didn't show much activity. This time was different. The female's eyes screamed horror, her mouth gagged. The table rattled and her muscles worked visibly as the test subject put all her might against her constraints. She pulled and twisted against the leather arm- and feetbands holding her to the table, mucus, water and urine streaming from every hole. Screaming in high pitched voices, climing to ever higher notes especially when the doctors beared down on her. Muffled resistance. Pleading eyes, like a horse about to be shot. Not the prettiest of sights, to say the least. Yet animal in its nature: cunningly close to the original but never the real thing.\n\nThe subect was quickly subdued with some anasthetics. It was over as quickly as it started, yet it left a certain impression with Charles. He couldn't shake a certain feeling. He wasn't sure what it was. \"You do not plan on using this on live patients in hospitals, I do hope.\" Antoine was shocked. \"Of course not! These things bound to happen in research, but there is much work to do. We will be getting some mentally and physically sick persons in a few weeks. Even some children, if you have no objections. I believe we have achieved a sufficient level of neural control, but there is great promise for future research. We will then focus on less invasive measures that might, one day, be humane enough to be used in standard medical practise. For now though ... \", he trailed off. Charles smiled. This was all the British public could ask for, after all.\n\nWhile leaving the villa, Charles assured Antoine that he was impressed enough with his work, and that further progress will most certainly lead to promising insights into how to battle diseases of the brain. Especially with the new batch of test subjects coming in during the next few weeks. He would personally make sure that funding was secured. Yes, he was most highly impressed. \n\n\"Was it any good, sir?\", James inquired. \"Ah yes, indeed. We are living in a splendid time to live!\" The assistant creased his brows. \"I have no doubts science will fulfill many of her lofty goals. Say, did I see the young Werner up on the steps with the Doctor?\" Charles laughed heartily. \"Indeed you did. This was what I was referring to, after all.\"", "I see shadows, but there is no light. A body hovers in front of me. It's naked, a woman, lying face down with one arm dangling and the other provding support as a human pillow. Her eyes are closed with a smile on her face. The kind you have after really great sex. Her disheveled hair reinforces the smile. As I near her she opens her eyes, but she sees nothing. They're white as opals, and normally one would be afraid of discovering such a thing, but I know she's been like this for years.\n\nWhen I touch her she quivers with exhausted excitment. Coyly turning over to expose her flesh to me. She acts with such confidence of her body, yet she doesn't know what it looks like. I love this about her. As she lies on her back, she stretches and pulls me down on top of her at the same time. I realize at this point I'm naked too. Her hands are quick to read my body, knowing it thirsts for hers. Of course her hands always understood my hunger. When I entered her she doesn't fight it... she doesn't cry... she seems to somehow know It was going to happen. She never saw me, but always knew me best. With her last breath of energy she doesn't speak, only touches my face to feel my sorrow.\n\nThat's when I pulled the knife out of her body and felt the blood wash over my hands. Its crimson bath soaked me to the bone, sending shivers up my spine with elation. Her image will be preserved in this moment, forever. Looking down, she can now finally see how beautiful she shined.", "“My love... My love, my love...” The woman whispers, between hope and desperation, with only the bandages to cover her tears. “I tried to save you, I swear. I took away all that hurt, so you could stay.”\n\n“You admit it, then.” the unsympathetic man sounded surprised.\n\n“She needed space. She was so very delicate and she needed space. My books were too depressing for her, so I got rid of them. My clothes were too boring, and I got her new clothes. The baby frightened her; she didn’t like to see anyone cry. What was I to do? When I throw it away she got me a puppy. She was so sweet. And it wasn’t enough. I tried so hard to save her. She is not coming back.”\n\n“But still...” He was trying to remain professional, “Why this? You said she loved pretty things. Why did you do this to yourself?”\n\n“She needed space. The body was still mine. When she woke up, the face in the mirror was still mine. I wanted her to have it all. I didn’t have money for a surgery, but I had a knife. She was going to be a great singer, you know? She sung beautifully. She just needed her own face.”\nThe doctor called his name from the door, and the unsympathetic man walked away, shuddering. That wasn’t really acceptable material for an article, perhaps he’d be more lucky with the next recovered DID patient.\n", "The girl knew who she wanted, and knew just how to get him.\n\n Every day she lusted after his smooth, white cheekbones, and long, delicate fingers. She was in love with him, but wasn't even sure if he knew she existed. The girl had been thinking about it for a long time, and she finally knew how to get his attention.\n\nThe brought her right index finger to her mouth and bit the soft pad of flesh at the tip, hard enough to draw blood. She grimaced at the pain and slurped and sucked the blood away. \n\nThe girl began gnawing at the flesh of her finger, tearing away and swallowing ribbons of skin and bloody chunks of meat. Her skin turned pale and her eyes glazed over as she went into shock, but still the girl kept biting at her fingers, thinking only of her love. \n\nBefore long the four fingers of her right hand were stripped of flesh and blood ran down her arm in streams. She knew she finally had his attention though.\n\nThe girl took her ruined hand and slid it into the waist of her pants, bringing his fingers to rest on her swollen sex. Blood began to stain her jeans from within as his fingers worked in and out. She gasped and moaned, lost in the ecstasy of her love's first caress.\n\nShe'd worry about how to reveal the rest of him later.", "\"Beautiful, simply beautiful.\" Those were the words that escaped from my lips. \n\nThe paint on the canvas dried into the deep hues and fleshy tones of the figure standing fixed in a triumphant pose before me. He was the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen, and I couldn't help but commit his shapes and contours to immortality. He had to be seen and all of his glory had to be preserved. \n\nMy hands trembled in awe as I set down the brush and palette. After carefully planning the setup, I finally had my masterpiece. Not only would I have a painting but a statue as well, immortalized in unchanging concrete. \n\nI got up from my stool to study the figure closely once more. Just two days ago, it would've been unthinkable to have such a handsome man as him in my studio, but then that was when he was beyond my grasp, a wild beast I needed to tame. \n\nI wanted him to be my muse, my divine inspiration, but he recoiled when I so much as leaned in to kiss him. He called me revolting, said he would never dream of being with someone as \"uncouth\" as I. Well, I needed to show him the error of his ways. \n\nAll it took was rope and some time, only then could I have him. I knew he would not see things my way, so I had to keep him with me so he'd never be corrupted. Even as he struggled and writhed, he was the most beautiful creature I could lay my eyes on. It's funny how we lose control of ourselves when we're in the midst of passion; I never thought I would get the better of him, but I was determined and caught in the heat of the moment that it only seemed like a moment. \n\nI made sure not to bruise or damage his skin, so that I could say he was unconscious when someone asked and that I was carrying him home. Once I had him in my studio I put on the braces to hold him in place as I prepared his mould. Once he'd been held in place long enough, I removed the braces and covered him in liquid concrete, smoothing it over to make it look like roughly carved marble when it dried. \n\nHe was breathtaking when I etched his features - as they'd been etched into my mind - into the smooth dried concrete. He could be mine forever this way, and only I could look at him untainted this way. Sleep tight, my love, and may you dream peacefully in your eternal slumber encased in hardened flesh to preserve you as I've always seen you: a true work of art. ", "First post on this amazing subreddit :)\n\nIt was a beautiful day. He woke up, stretched, and decided to go outside for an early morning jog. It was his day off, after all. Halfway through his jog through the park, he felt something crunch under his feet. He stopped and looked down. A mouse. He had stepped on a mouse. Killed it. He shuddered. He paused. The mouse had a tag around it’s now crushed neck. He looked closely. A name. This was, a pet? He looked to see where the mouse had come from. \nThere was a trail of blood to where the mouse was lying now. There was no way it was the mouse’s blood. The mouse had been covered in the blood of something else as it was running towards its untimely fate. But where from?\nFollowing the trail led to a another path. Following the path led to a hidden corner of the park. There was something in between a couple of trees. He crept closer. He vomited. Dead bodies. Two. Clearly killed in a struggle. Necks slashed. Blood everywhere. Relatively fresh.\nA hand closed around his mouth. A whisper in his ear. “Shhh. Quiet and it will be quick. Understand?”\nHe could only nod yes, stunned. What was happening? \nThe hand let go. He turned around and saw a man dressed in a fine tuxedo, looking for all the world as if he was heading to a dinner with a millionaire at a fancy restaurant. He held a knife in one hand.\n“Today you become one of the brave souls who will journey across the abyss into the next world to become the source of energy for Her Powerful Majesty of the Otherworld. Do you understand?”\nThe soon-to-be-dead-man opened his mouth to scream. Nothing.\n“Don’t even try. My hand was covered in a potion that silences the offerings. Her Majesty finds it irritating if they make a racket as they cross over.”\nHe casually pulled a mouse out of one of his pockets and put a tag on its neck. He wrote something on the tag.\n“The mice are the servants of her majesty. They lure in her food. The must be activated by the blood of one who is marked to cross. Unfortunately, the blood of the same man cannot be used twice. I still need the fourth and final offering, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to take some of your blood.”\nHe slashed out with his knife, too fast for the doomed to react. The doomed let out a silent scream. Blood gushed from his arm. The man took the mouse and doused it in the doomed man’s blood. He flung the mouse into the air, shouting “Run! Run and bring the final victim!”\nHe turned to the doomed man, the first glints of insanity finally appearing in his eyes. He raised the knife. \nHe paused.\n“I loved her you know. The first sacrifice. She thought I was going to propose. But there were more important things to be done.”\nHe looked over at the dead bodies on the hill, a shadow crossing his face. He looked back. He raised the knife again.\n“FOR HER MAJESTY!”\nA man was jogging through a park on a particularly beautiful day. He stopped as he noticed some red markings on the pathway. He looked around and saw to his great shock and astonishment a bloodstained mouse with some sort of a tag around its neck running into the bushes. Curious as to where it came from, he followed the trail of blood and came across a path. The path led to a corner of the park that was not often frequented. He set out along the path as far away, across a bottomless abyss, a queen began laughing as a doomed man tried to scream.\n", "We met on Craigslist. Simple set up. Before I met her, I had no reason to live. The first two times we just talked on the phone. I'm even worse on the phone than I am in person. When we finally decided to meet in person, it was love at first site. At least it was for me. I knew I'd give her everything. I'd never met someone so passionate. Someone who knew exactly what they wanted and wasn't afraid to come out and ask for it. Don't get me wrong, this is not a sexual thing. It's a personality thing. A dominance thing. Okay, there's a sexual aspect to it, but not in a pornographic way. She controls me. I WILL give her everything. Oh, and I still don't want to live, but now, I can not live with purpose. Does that make sense?\n\nShe finally invited me over for dinner. Her place was immaculately clean. I knew it would be. The setting was intimate, small table, candles, place settings worthy of a Michelin star. The cutlery was sparkling sterile and freshly sharpened. I looked deep into her eyes as I picked up the chef's knife. Ever have that moment of complete comfort with someone else, where silence isn't awkward? That's exactly what it was as I severed the three fingers of my left hand at the metacarpal, from ring to index. She told me of her upbringing in Tonganoxie while she sauteed and I held a towel to my hand. It's in Kansas. Yeah, I didn't know that either. I popped some Amoxicillin and talked about my first apartment.\n\nThe second date was the gastrocnemius and soleus, better known as the calf muscles. This is extremely hard to do, because you have to take special care for the peroneal and not one, but two tibial arteries. I have to admit, they smelled much better than my fingers. The wheelchair took a little getting used to, but the morphine drip makes the learning curve a little steep. I was regaled by tales of her college experience and the culture shock that must come from experiencing the Ivy leagues. Especially for a girl from Tonganoxie.\n\nTonight, a surgical table adorns the usual living room decor. I slide my finger over the steel. Impeccable. These utensils are better suited for a hospital than a restaurant. Infinitely more interesting though. I think I'm ready to take this relationship to the next level. I'm ready for commitment.\n\nI'd better be. Tonight, we do the sweetbreads.", "\"So beautiful,\" the girl whispered, her teeth gleaming as they bared themselves in semblance of a smile. She watched, her gray eyes glazed with maniacal blood lust as she watched the boy strain against his chains, his bonds. He was her brother's toy, some creature from the surface that he had caught. She sat on her small throne, her mother and father to her left in larger seats. Her brother was, of course, in the middle of the dias before him, performing with the boy.\n\nEyes widened in fascination as the boy's back arched like a bow and spittle flew from his mouth as he let out another hoarse cry. His voice was raw from the torture and could no longer give forth sound, however those little whimpers and harsh breaths were still good enough. She shifted her her seat, lips parting as a soft pant escaped her. Oh, the blood was so erotic. The pain so alluring.\n\nThe boy slumped, the chains on his wrists supporting his body weight and causing his arms to bend at a painful angle. He did not mind, this pain was nothing compared to before. A cramp seized his back and he shifted, chains rattling with his movement. He noticed a girl watching him and looked up, his weary eyes watching her. She was pretty, a distant part of him noticed. White hair, silver eyes, pale complexion. But, the same part of him mused, it was an obvious sign of her alieness. No one of his world would last a day with such pale skin, burning from the brilliant sun's rays within moments.\n\n\"Brother,\" the girl called, catching her elder brother's cold gaze. She was not fazed. They were, after all, dead.\n\n\"Give him to me,\" she ordered and knew he would not deny her. Could not deny her.\n\nIt was that girl again. She stood watching him and so he brought his head up to watch her. What did she want? More of his pain? He could not care anymore. So he let his head fall and darkness consume him.\n\n\"Tell me,\" she said \"about your world.\"\n\n\"I am not your pet to order,\" he had replied, surprised by his own brava. Of course she had watched him and moaned in time with each of his shouts. It was sickening that he felt satisfied by this, that he was glad she enjoyed him.\n\n\"The sun, it is magnificent,\" he said one day after she had stared at him for a long moment. Her silver eyes widened, shining with her imagination.\n\n\"Magnificent...\" she breathed, an almost-smile on her lips.\n\nAgain he had stepped out of line. She did not mind, afterall she was so obsessed with his cries and his pain. Was he not stupid, though, to realize that certain things undoubtedly brought him pain? But secretly, deep inside tha black thing in her chest, she was glad for his stupidity.\n\nHis head hung after his punishment so that no one would see his soft smile. He had pleased her, he knew. Her soft pants exhilarated him.\n\n\"The sun... is it warm?\" she had asked him in passing. It was not until days later that she had her reply.\n\n\"More than my blood.\" And her mouth had opened in another one of her soft pants and his heart thudded with excitement at it.\n\nHe had now reached a point where he no longer was chained up. He still wore chains, collars and shackles, but he was allowed to move. And so he followed her, his liveliness exciting her kinfolk but he as secure in his knowledge that none of them would touch him. Afterall, he thought to himself as his breath suddenly seemed short, he was hers.\n\nIt had happened again, she mused. He seemed to have become bored with his good behavior and had endeavored to make up for his lack of punishments. Now he could no longer make sounds though his body still shook with spasms of pain as the torturer ravished him with whips and chains and blades and other toys of pain. Her silver eyes glowed as his blood spilled, as his eyes met hers, a small smile in them. Yes, she was satisfied.\n\n\"Glorious...\" he had whispered, his last breath leaving his broken body as he stared into her eyes. He, unlike she, aged and as such his body could not take the punishment he had received for his crime. He had touched her, done things no other was allowed yet she allowed him to do so. And so, in this, he had fulfilled his last act for her satisfaction, her pleasure, and she was filled to capacity with it.\n\nIt was not long after that she went to the surface with her family and acquantices pleading with her to come back, to reconsider. Her brillance shown in the sunlight for a brief second as her kindred could do nothing but stare in awe and wonder as her skin met the sun and, as that boy had predicted, caught aflame and burned.\n\n\"Glorious...\" she whispered, drifting away in the warmth. She smiled to herself. He had lied. He was as warm as the sun, for he was her sun.", "\"Come right away, Mask, as soon as the job is done.\"\n\n\"Ma'am, yes ma'am,\" replies a dark figure with a feminine voice. She hangs up immediately and rises from her crouched position on the corner of the rooftop. Her pistol is raised and sighted up. It's very nearly the fourth of july, only two nights away. Silencer or not, the gun will be louder than she wants. With her other hand, she flicks her zippo and holds the flame under the fuze of a string of firecrackers. Once it's burning, she nudges them off the edge and then waits. Patience is a virtue. Delayed gratification can be even more gratifying than instant pleasure. Even so, the heat she feels inside that's traveling rapidly towards her groin reminds her why she loves her-\n\nBang.\n\nHer target pivots, staring at the noise. He's a deer in the headlights, or rather, in her sights. She's not to kill him. In fact, she's never once killed before. Her job is not to murder, it is to bring pain. And so she does, with a well placed shot to his right thigh. The firecrackers cover the noise and his screaming for the time being. Before he can start to limp off, she puts a round through his other thigh before stepping off the edge.\n\nFour stories is not enough of a fall to kill this young woman. She drops to a knee on impact and then is up and moving smoothly, very smoothly. Cold amber eyes catch the yellow light from the street lamp and seem to glow through her mask. He watches her stalk up and reach into her messenger bag. \n\n\"I am Mask, but you know that already,\" she says softly, tilting her head a little as he tries to scramble away, the pistol snaps up and a bullet pierces his hand. Naturally, the man falls onto his back. From the bag she draws a crowbar.\n\nIt is all for her owner. Her beautiful kapitan, cold and hard and bright like a bitter star. Mask will do anything for her. The woman has raised her. Taught her how to survive in a city where blood runs in the gutters as often as rain, where there is no night and day but instead a perpetual angry twilight leaning towards the ugliness of midnight. \n\nHer head tilts the other way and her neck cracks disconcertingly. The crowbar rises and then falls, the sharp points sticking into his calf. Over and over she raises it and brings it down, humming as he screams. After a few moments, she can't suppress a feminine giggle. The giggle turns into a mad cackle as his eyes roll back and the firecrackers stop their popping.\n\n\"Poor little man...\" she whispers, kneeling. Belts are pulled from her bag with gloves hands, and tightened about his thighs, above the wounds. Handcuffs come next, binding his hands behind his back. She works fast, giggling all the while, eyes wide and glinting behind the black metal that covers her face. A syringe case comes out next, and from within that a syringe and a glass injectables vial full of fluid. A measure is drawn up, and then the needle pressed into the skin of his arm.\n\nWhile the drug takes effect, she tightens the belts on his legs and then ties a gag in his mouth. \n\nHis eyes snap open and search around, but no one is coming to help.\n\nShe draws up a measure in her syringe and sticks it in her own arm, smiling as she injects.\n\n\"Amphetamines,\" she tells him, ignoring his wheezing and whimpering. \"So you are awake to feel the pain. I love them... don't you? Does it feel good? I bet it hurts so bad... I wish I could feel that kind of pain, but I must remain intact for Kapitan's sake. I am her dog, her tool, and you're another dog just like me... but you... you're a bad, bad doggy. Tell Hector when he messes with things in Kapitan's territory, there will be a price.\"\n\nHis eyes flick to the needle and then there's a triumphant expression on his face. She giggles once more.\n\n\"Oh, what? Your HIV positive status? So you've killed me in the long run? Human viruses don't work on me, sweetie,\" she says. Shortly after the end of her statement, something pink pushes through one of the thick vents over her mouth, pushing the cloth tied over them aside. It continues to slither out until it touches his bloodied, battered calf. Once she has tasted his blood, she pulls it back into her mouth. \"I'll be seeing you, handsome - if you fuck up again.\"\n\nWith that as her last, she drags the cell phone from his pocket and stands, dialing 911. Before she turns, it lands on the ground beside him, still connected. \n\nHer long, incredibly full and strangely shaggy mane of icy white hair looks golden in this light.\n\nNow, now she runs. Two hearts pump blood to her muscles efficiently, muscles both well defined and quite powerful. Standing at eight feet tall, this young woman's legs move her along at a good clip.\n\nNo more than ten minutes later, she turns down a more residential road and then three houses down up a walk to a porch. On the porch stands a woman. She approaches at a slower pace, and the stairs are climbed. Before anything is said, she kneels before a short woman with graying hair who despite said hair looks to be no older than thirty.\n\n\"It is done, Kapitan,\" she says softly.\n\n\"Good girl,\" the woman says, smiling and placing a hand on her head. The creature looks up, golden eyes showing her delighted smile. \"Mask, honey, I have to ask you to do something.\"\n\n\"I will do whatever my kapitan wishes,\" Mask tells her, tilting her head.\n\n\"... I know. Come in for a moment.\"\n\nTogether, they enter the rather nice and surprisingly large house. She stands in the entryway, towering over her short boss.\n\n\"Kneel, Mary.\"\n\nIt is very concerning for Mask, her real name being used. Nonetheless, she drops to her knees immediately, bowing her head a little.\n\n\"Look up to me.\"\n\nMask does. The short woman raises her hands and laces her fingers into that shaggy hair, massaging and scratching at the young woman's head. Mary makes soft noises of happiness until her kapitan finds the belts for the mask and releases them, pulls the metal thing away and the cloth with it.\n\nMary's face is pretty, in a predatory sort of way. Her golden eyes are wide with confusion. Her lips are black, and not with lipstick - they simply are black. Around her eyes, dark and smokey black like makeup that is merely a part of her skin. \n\n\"Your cheeks are red. You're aroused,\" she says, smiling. \"I take it you crippled him for life?\" \n\n\"He will never walk again... his blood tasted so good, kapitan. His screams... I can't help it, I'm so damn wet right now,\" she replies, her lips pulling back. Sharp teeth push from her gums. \"Thank you for letting me bring pain, kapitan.\"\n\n\"Yes, of course,\" the woman says. \"Now come with me, I have a surprise for you. You may walk, you don't have to crawl. Shed your clothing but your underwear and tanktop.\"\n\nThe monster rises and shrugs out of her heavy duster. She works her boots of next, and then the socks as well. Her pants come off them, exposing her dark panties. A button down shirt covers her strong torso, and it is removed to. \n\nScars.\n\nThere are hundreds. Thousands, even. Every inch of skin is scars ranging from cigarette burns to whipping marks to surgical lines to skin graft scarring. The only places that there are no scars are her right arm and her right leg. Those both end at the joint, the shoulder and hip. In their place, metal engraved with terrible and ancient runes, things to bond her very soul to the pieces, the limbs that aren't real. She will sacrifice all for her kapitan.\n\nTogether they walk, one woman with footsteps that clank on every other footfall. The house is ignored, instead a door is found and a stairwell taken down into a basement where a big man waits. He says nothing, he merely nods to both. In the center of the room, a man sits in a chair. The huge monster freezes, staring in horror.\n\n\"Kapitan what... what is... why is...\"\n\n\"You need to kill him to heal, my dear sweet Mary. Make the crimson garden grow,\" her kapitan says softly. \"Contrary to popular belief, sometimes revenge really is a good idea.\"\n\nThe monster shrinks back from the man in the chair, mind full of visions of horrors. \n\n\"No... he... he's a monster,\" she whines, back hitting a wall. Her hands rise, one metal and clawed and the other flesh and blood. Her arms cross over her generous chest. \"No, no, I can't... please, he's... no...\"\n\nKapitan steps up in front of her.\n\n\"Mary, listen to me. You're not a scared little girl an-\"\n\n\"No! He's going to hurt me!\" she cries, sinking down the wall until her ass hits the floor. \"No, no no! Please don't let him hurt me, no!\"\n\nKapitan kneels.\n\n\"Girl, listen to me. Listen to me right now. This man raped you. He beat you. He exploited your regenerative capabilities and cut you, tortured you, but you can stop him now. You can prevent him from ever doing it again, to anyone,\" she says, grabbing the monster's shoulders. \"You're... you can kill him and end it. You can stop being terrified. You can be like me, like you've always wanted to be. You can be strong. You can kill like I do.\"\n\n\"No, no, I can't,\" she gasps, blackened, corrupted tears rolling down her cheeks. \"I can't hurt... him, I can't... I can't and...\"\n\n\"Get up. That is an order.\"\n\nWhimpering, the monster rises. Her kapitan presses a bowie knife into her hand. \n\n\"I-I... I can't... can't d-do it...\"\n\n\"Come, now. Also an order.\"\n\nThe monster steps forward, trembling. Somewhere inside, she's still a young woman. Somewhere, buried deep, is the thing that breaks her kapitan's heart. A girl who hasn't taken curse after curse to grow stronger, a girl who doesn't drink blood to survive. A scared seven year old pinned down by a police officer, being violated repeatedly. A scared six year old who ran away from her home because her step father liked to use her like an ash tray.\n\nNow she is what she is because she volunteered. When kapitan found her when she was fifteen, four years ago, she was nearly non-functional... freezing to death, infections even her regeneration couldn't stop in her missing arm and leg....\n\n\n", "I could kill every last one of them. The SATs are bullshit, they always have been. What's the point of them. I should just get up and kill every last one of them. \n\nThat idiot in the front. He's a loser, everyone knows it. I'd take the pencil and jam it in his eyes. I'd twist out each one and eat it in front of every last one of them. Then I'd go down, seat by seat, putting them out of their misery. This is bullshit. What's the point. \n\nIt would be so easy. I don't even need the pencil. I'd strangle them and shove them in these desks for the police to find later. That ugly asshole in the front would go first. What's his problem? Why does he keep clearing his throat? He's asking for it. \n\nI could kill every last one of them. \n\nExcept for her. The one in the purple sweater. \n\nI'd keep her." ]	11
First prompt! Hope it goes well!	[WP]The secret to everlasting life has been discovered. Every 3,500 years someone must die, to maintain the system. You are about to sit down to watch the televised event, when you see the sacrifice is your little brother.	[ "I saw David's name on the list. He's barely a teenager...\n\nMy first memories of him were about going down to the local creek, catching crayfish. I don't remember taking any home. We certainly didn't eat them. The claws seemed scary, but we never got caught by them. It helped to catch the crayfish by gripping at where the tail meets the body, conveniently located behind the arms. As time went on, it got harder to find crayfish in the creek.\n\nI was reprimanded once for getting involved when I saw David being \"dunked\" - held under water. I still don't understand the rationale for focusing on me. Maybe they were embarrassed that I was doing their job? It was years later that I again weighed in on a similar situation. I learnt afterwards that the circumstances were not what they appeared. A mutual friend of ours remarked that David needed to keep his stories straight.\n\nI lost track of how many marriages he's had. I've never been invited to any of them. I knew, could have crashed but preferred to respect wishes. I'm old enough to remember when most defined \"marriage\" as being between a man and a woman. Very glad to be alive to see that belief change...\n\n1,323 years old... barely a teenager...", "I normally watch the TV. It's nice and peaceful, and having this much extra time has made all of my time... the words lose me to how much time I have. I had to do something. After all, it was a weekend. On the screen, a face flashed up.\n\nA face that I was confused to see on the screen. Surely, my brother wasn't--\n\nThere was a scream from another room. Mom came running around the corner, not even glancing at my TV, and they met in the hallway, Mom clutching my brother and my brother sobbing horrifying into her shoulder. He was mumbling so incoherently he couldn't get the words out of his mouth fast enough before the newscaster announced it into the blue...\n\n'This little boy is the one, in this time, to be chosen as the sacrifice to continue the prolonged life of humankind.' My mother turned around to blankly stare at the TV, cradling my brother in her arms to gape, open mouthed, at the TV. We all sat for a while, staring at the TV as if we were fish, mouths agape and inhaling the living room air.\n\n'Surely there has to be another person... somebody that isn't my brother...'\n\n'If you could do that, Will, I don't think any kind of payment would suffice for saving his life.'\n\n'Could you really do that, big brover?' I still found his lack of consonants, in a sickening, brotherly way, cute.\n\n'Sure. I wonder if the government would accept George W. Bush.'", "I sat up, woken from my slumber by my own excitement. Today was the day. It's been so long since someone was last chosen. I remember it clear as day. We all clamored for the right to die. It always caused riots, thefts, and well a mass amount of injured prides. I can't even remember what pain felt like. It's been so long...\n\nI flicked on the TV, and watched the news reel come on. They would announce who it was soon. \n\nThe time ticked by, I witnessed every moment like I hadn't in years. Each second dropped off the clock was another second wasted. \n\nFinally, they blared the announcement reel. They panned over the crowds that were becoming listless. I refused to go, I don't know why this time, over the last time, I didn't want to be involved in the riots. It wouldn't change anything if I was there. So I stayed home. \n\nLost in my thoughts, I almost missed the announced name. No, that couldn't be right. That was impossible. It had to be someone else with the same name. They flicked to his face, as he walked up to podium. He was grinning, it was better than a birthday. That lucky bastard. \n\nWe had always talked about the day we would die. He waved to the camera. He must have realized I would be watching. \n\nHe turned around and walked into the steel building and the doors shut behind him. The crowd roared and surged forward. Trying to change places with the One. \n\nHe died, so that we may live. We live, but are dead.\n\n", "One day, we would all sit in that chair. The device was painless, and somewhat euphoric, or so I'm told. \nI see my little brother advance to the chair, although the difference of a year over the grinding of millennia hardly makes much of a difference. We no longer remember our ages, only the year long difference. It hardly matters. I remember a time when a year felt as long as a century, when I could still feel an hour. I dimly remember being a child, although it has been many billenias since i've seen one. \nMy brother sits down, cracks a smile to the adoring public. It was meant to be my turn, but apparently I was still needed. My superiors couldn't find a replacement, so they put an injunction against my request. This is the tenth time i've been eligible, and they won't let me leave. A man of my talents is essential to the survival of humanity, they say. \nIt was a cruel joke. I should be sat there. I'm tired, so tired.My only way out is through that chair. My brother slumps, his last bow. The Audience cheers. Another 3,500 years.\n", "I hadn't seen him in maybe a couple thousand years and the last time I did, he'd won. He'd traipsed out of my home and life with a freshly lit cigarette hanging from his lips and a lazy wave of his arm. And I was left there to fizzle out in the ashes and freeze halfway through the rude gesture aimed at his back, for two thousand years, three decades, two months and seven hours, give or take. Mostly taken, though where all the time had gone I did not know. \n\nThen I saw him on the screen and nothing changed, absolutely nothing, the popcorn still crunched between my teeth and the sofa creaked and the electric fan whirred around, so I looked very attentively at him, mincing every one of his features to better erase them. I made a systematic, almost ritualistic exercise of forgetting each and every little part, the sandy blonde hair, the brown eyes so much like my own, the freckles and the meaty nose, the thin mouth and the sharp chin quaking with fear; I stared at them until my eyes blurred and those partitioned little sights meticulously blanked out into a vague burning of the throat and a curious pressure behind my eyes and something of childhood that I'd long traded for eternity. \n\nBut then I looked at the whole of his visage again, the devil torn away from the forgettable details to give rise to the fullness, the completeness of the intimacy of our mutual knowledge, and I knew him. I'd seen him being born and I saw him dying, and I stopped to wish I'd seen the things in between. \n\n ", "It’s been so long. Oh, Gretchen, dear, how good of you to come. Sit down, somewhere. I can’t even remember what it was like, seeing someone… disappear. I tell you people, I think I might actually be thrilled. No, no, I mean it. It’s the echo of a thrill, but I still get a reaction out of this. It’s one of these things you need some millennia to get used to. And after all this time, watching the light from someone’s eyes dim! Knowing horror is possible! I don’t mean being horrified, of course, we are all grownups here, but remembering... remembering how something new feels. Don’t you agree? Oh, Bobby, have a beer. On that table over there, yes. They feel it, I think. Being sacrificed is one of the greatest gifts a human being can get in this day and age. Don’t laugh, I’m dead serious. But I am! Death brings people spontaneity back, a purpose, a meaning! You can tell before they dissolve, there’s something genuinely emotional in their eyes. And those screams! So vivid and sincere! For me watching this is almost like having Christmas days again. You remember that? Wasn’t it entertaining? Oh, I don’t remember it that well myself, but I have some pictures... Danny and I would be awake at 6 A.M. sharp, jumping on our parents’ bed, asking for presents! The bathroom? That door on the right. He has a better memory than me, he could probably tell you some anecdotes. Isn’t Dan here yet? That’s odd, he loves the ceremony. No, he always comes to my party. We’ve been watching it together since the first sacrifice. It’s a family thing. What are you giggling about? Is it something about Dan? Well, I don’t like surprises. If he’s getting married again, there are better days than when our favourite TV show is airing! Oh, quiet, now. I guess he’s going to miss it after all. Gretchen, turn it up, I can’t hear a thing... Is it a man or a woman? Oh, is he handsome? Move away so I can see.\n\nDanny.\n\nOh, God, I think I’m feeling.\n", "My fingers tremble as I read the newspaper headline. “Local Man Chosen as Sacrifice.” Heart racing, I close my eyes and open them again twice in a row, hoping that the face on the front page would change to someone else’s mug – anyone else’s. But no matter how much I can hope, or bargain, or pray to every God there is or ever was, Ritchie’s face continues to stare at me from the ink.\n\n\nI fumble with the remote control and somehow get my television tuned in to the pre-sacrifice coverage. The reporters are digesting and analyzing all types of information concerning my baby brother – the town we are from, our intimate family details, the significance of his youth. Good Lord, the kid is barely fifteen thousand! My eyes are beginning to itch, yet as I start to rub them I catch the screen pan away from the three analysts and land on the sacrifice. My brother. \n\n\nThe camera zooms in on Ritchie eating his final meal – quesadillas and Guinness – and tries to get a good angle on his face. The cameraman has to maneuver around his wife to get the shot; she’s just staring off into space with a blank stare. When they make it to Ritchie’s face he is looking down, trying to decide which slice of his chicken quesadilla to start with. At this point I can feel moisture gathering in the corner of my eyes. Gripping the end slice he looks up at his wife to say something. The camera finally catches a good look at his demeanor. I and billions of viewers make eye contact with Ritchie, yet I find myself shocked by his countenance. \n\n\nRitchie looks calm. Reserved. Almost excited, in fact.\n\n\nNot only that, but I can tell Ritchie isn’t putting on a show. His face seemed real. And that’s when I realized. This shaking, my heart racing, these tears streaming down my face. This is the first real emotion I’ve felt in, what? A thousand years? Ten thousand? The last few millennia just flow together in my mind. Has it really been that long since the monotony of life has been significantly interrupted? \n\n\nThe last time I’d been in love was with my fifth wife, Daphne. Any real memories with her have long since disintegrated. Same as any mementos I may have saved from our days together. All I know is one day we got bored with each other, and went our separate ways. Just like the first four. \n\n\nSince Daphne I’ve simply been wandering, consuming my days with work and my nights with liquor and women – they as unfeeling as I. I have learned 40 languages, 86 instruments, all the theorems and studies and academic disciplines I could come across. Yet even learning has lost its luster. \n\n\nThese tears running from my eyes and down my cheeks consume me like no drug or remedy I can fathom. I forgot what it means to truly feel anything. Compared to everyday life, this is bliss. My prayers change, and I would be eager for this sadness to consume me where I sit. To provide an escape from this never ending merry-go-round I’ve been calling life.\n\n\nNow I understand that look of relief on Ritchie’s face. The same look that has been on every previous tribute’s face, one which blended in with the rest of the tedium until today. The first sacrifice that actually matters to me. This is the ultimate escape. The lottery has given Ritchie an everlasting get-out-of-jail free card. In five hours, he will be released from this unending purgatory. And that’s when it hit me.\n\n\nToday, my brother is the luckiest man on earth.", "I knew I was sole beneficiary on Chester's life insurance policy, but I wasn't certain that it would be paying me out under these circumstances. I thumbed through my copy of the policy, and to my delight found on line 136 that not only would I get paid, but I would get paid triple in the event that Chester passed away in the the Immortality Sacrifice.\n\nFantastic! I would finally be able to buy the Lamborghini that I had been coveting for years, and I'd still have some money left over to enjoy the company of some escorts. I had never won anything in my life, but now it was as if I hit the jackpot. I guess sometimes good things do come to good people." ]	8
Dramatic, angry, and striking fear in the hearts of their enemies! ... If it was fitting.	[WP] A revenge speech for something insignificant, or useless to seek revenge for.	[ "Behold! I have been hiding in the shadows around every corner watching your every move. I have toiled and spent hour after hour plotting for this moment. Throughout my life, I have tried to be a good person and I have stuck to a very strict code of morals. But scoundrels like you do not deserve generosity, respect, or even air to breathe.\n\n This dagger here which was undoubtedly crafted with care from a blacksmith deserves a better victim which is why I brought a pistol. You do not deserve a heroically slow death where you have the opportunity to see your dearest memories flash before your eyes. You shall be shot in the head. It shall be quick so we can all move on with our lives and never have to worry about your kind again. There shall be no flowers for you, no mourners, not even a funeral. We will leave your body where it lay for the animals to feast upon. \n\nYou have brought this upon yourself. You could have made a difference in this world but you chose to embrace the darkness. You chose to lurk and hide and wait until I was at my most vulnerable state and attack. Do you even know what it is like to awake in terror as a stranger on tv shouts at you to buy their product? What had I done to you? Why was this so urgent? \n\nStupid, young, and naïve I was. I embarked on a journey to try your life changing invention. I left my job, my family, and the love of my life behind to try this product that was like “nothing I had ever seen before”. After time, money, and life altering sacrifices do you know what I found? I still had juice on my freaking counter. \n\nSo rather than plead for your life like the coward you are I want you to smile and shout just like that night on the infomercial. I only want to hear one or maybe even two words depending on your grammatical preference escape your lips. Sham-Wow. ", "Ah, you. Your drug-addled eyes and bone-thin arms kept my PRIZE from me. I rightfully paid for that, and you wanted to deny me. Your paranoia was your undoing! Here I am, with what I so desired, and there you are, miserable because you didn't get what your self-righteous mind felt that you deserved. I am justice, and you are but a mindless worker. You will return to your master, dejected, and I will savor every moment of it.\n\nNo, I'm not going to steal that pizza, and no, you're not getting a tip because you jerked my pizza away from me. Now get off my lawn!", "\"You know what?\" he paused just enough for the force of rhetoric to take hold - a muffled artifact, barely recognizable as a voice came channeling through the old-timey receiver \"What?\" it croaked. With a breath, and the shuffling of his tired feet the man could almost feel the potentiation of his neuronal pathways, like the winding of a catapult or the sharp crescendo of the orchestra and then a calmness overtook him. \n\n\"It seems that you do not understand your place in this transaction. You are the consumer. A mindless and easily wriled creature. A thing of mass, to be studied, catelogued and manipulated. You are not \"Always right\" in fact, more often than not if you are thought of AT ALL it is with spite and a kind of morbid speculation as to your charectar or lack thereof. A ticket number, a job. You are not in control. It is not your wishes that we keep in mind, it is the numbers you represent.\" \n\nPausing for a moment, the man listened as the receiver belched indignant before cutting it off. \n\n\"Shut up. Just shut your grubby meathole and listen. You are the consumer - and I, I am the serviceman. It is my duty to deliver a product in a timely manner to each consumer in the queue. One can assume that I am a 20-something, working for a little over minimum wage. This is not my passion, this is not my idea of anything except 'work'. So when you, with your high and mighty middle-class sense of self-entitlement tell me that you want a refund because you thought the number twelve came with beef - well sir, you can shove it up your ass. It's not my job to educate the masses, it is however yours to spend the five seconds necessary to make a motherfucking informed decision.\" \n\nSilence ensued, and as if in fight-or-flight the receiver put forth in stern and rightous clarity \"I want to talk to your manager\" \n\nThe man smiled, \"I am the manager.\" and triumphantly slammed the receiver onto it's nest on the countertop. ", "I told you I would find you eventually. Guess what, it only took me 15 years. How I'm trembling with excitement now that the moment has finally come. Welcome, Stinky Pete. We finally meet again. Oh, what's that? ... Untie you? Right now? Naah, that's alright, I won't hurt you. I'm simply gonna take back what is mine. What was mine all along, until you took it away from me... that fateful day 15 years ago. What are you saying? I'm sorry, it's hard to understand what you're saying, I gagged you. You wanna know who I am? Don't tell me you don't recognize me? Really? You don't even keep track of the people that hold grudges against you, do you? What a sick man you are. And what a sick child you were. Ninetales... shiny. Bigclaw... shiny. Fishwalker... my favorite... shiny. Doesn't ring a bell? Egg Eater, shiny. Evilface, shiny. Raichu, shiny. I could go on for days, you bastard. Naruto Punching Frog, shiny. Alakazam, shiny. Jigglyjiggly, goddamn shiny. They were all shiny. All the trading cards. I was the first Pokémaster in our elementary school. I caught 'em all. All the 150. It was MY parents' money that bought these trading cards. It was MY trading skills that secured me the rare shiny cards. It was MY deck. And you took it away from me. You envied me and stole my cards. You stole my Pokémon Trading Cards. A true Pokémaster doesn't forget. A true Pokémaster doesn't forgive. I have found you. And now I am going to take your collectables away from you... slowly and painfully. Hush, it will soon be over. \n\nstarts humming the Pokémon Intro Song", "She awoke with a groan, muffled by layers of bedding. I sat in a chair next to her prone form. The room was dark, but I could still make out the dewy glint of her eyes as they slowly blinked open. She tried to push the covers away. It was only when she realized that she could not that she finally, truly startled awake.\n\nI flipped two switches. One was for a strong incandescent light, pointed at her face. The other was for a large fan, pointed at me.\n\n\"Just how snug is a bug in a rug, my pet?\" I sneered with smug satisfaction. The sound of my voice drew her away from panic, if only momentarily, and towards confusion.\n\n\"David... what? What's happening? Ugh, it's so hot. Why can't I... David, did you staple down the sheets?\"\n\nI lifted a glass of ice water to my lips, took a noisy sip, and finished with an overly-dramatic exhalation of satisfaction and refreshment. Backlit as I was, she probably couldn't make out the details - hence the need for theatrics. I clinked the ice against the sides of the glass just to make sure she got the message.\n\n\"It is hot. It is very, very hot. It is uncomfortably hot in this room - and I'm not even underneath the sheets and blankets! I can only imagine how sticky and sweaty you are. How parched you must be. But alas, somebody made their bed, sweetie. Somebody has to lie in it.\"\n\nI took another slow sip. She was panicking now, but she was too weak and too constrained to translate it into any sort of action. Dehydration was the likely culprit. She struggled lamely, and I waited for her to give up. She did. It was beautiful.\n\n\"Six months, my love. Six months of minor, sometimes imperceptible adjustments. Six months of chances for you to see - to feel - the error of your ways. But no, not once. Not one hint of suspicion. Not one question. So little self-awareness, my pet. I shouldn't call you that - I'm comparing you to an animal. Animals intuitively understand homeostasis. You do not. I shouldn't insult the animals so.\n\n\"If you were able to escape your prison, my...wife, you would be able to walk out of the door to our bedroom, into the hallway, and check the temperature. It would read seventy-two degrees - two degrees higher than our bargain, and four degrees higher than any sane person would require while insulated by more than their fair share of a king-sized sheet and a king-sized blanket and a king-sized comforter.\n\n\"In point of fact, after six months of labor, the actual temperature in this room is eighty-two degrees, my cold-blooded spouse. Eighty. Two. Degrees. And only now, having poured out your body's moisture in your sleep, do you finally realize your folly, your flaw, and your downfall.\"\n\nI lean in, triumphant. Her bleary eyes burn with hatred, stinging with the last sheen of sweat she'll ever be able to produce unless and until she surrenders completely to my will. I'm sweating, too - uncontrollably, in fact - but then, I have the fan, I have the water, and I have the power. Finally, I have the power.\n\n\"From now on, my wife, I control the thermostat... and the sheets are mine.\"\n\n\"Fuck you,\" she croaked.\n\nBut she surrendered.", "Dear John,\n\nYou may have wondered about my recent coldness. I've seen the pained, furtive looks in math class, and heard the pregnant pause between us as we pass in the hall. \n\nKnow this, John. The others may have been fooled by your false laugh and smile and become like those poor fools in Plato's allegory of the cave, captivated by the shadows on the wall. But I, I have glimpsed the truth, the source of the light! You are a monster, an empty shell! You crassly manipulate the trusting plebeians around you in a sorry sham of a popularity contest.\n\nI was once one of those fools, John. I might have stayed that way, had you not wounded me as you did last Tuesday; in wounding me, you showed me your true nature, you spawn of the void!\n\nWhen you offered Lucy, Alex and Sarah but not me gum on the bus ride to the museum, I was at first hurt, and sought within myself a reason for this seemingly unprovoked injury. But upon reflection, I realized you're a monster John; you raise and cut down those around you for your own vain purposes.\n\nSo I've sought to repay you for the gum, John. Try to stand up. You can't can you? Don't you remember what Mrs. Johnson told us in First Grade, \"watch where you sit?\"\n\nEnjoy the gum, John. \n", "Dear sir,\n\nI call you sir but it's a courtesy you do not deserve. I'd name you many vulgar titles but your vile acts will not reduce me to speech better suited to the low and foul likes of yourself. If I knew your name I would not use it. You do not deserve to be elevated to that strata of humanity, for your actions betray your inhuman and wretched nature.\n\n\nDo not deny my accusations! I saw your treachery with mine own eyes. You are guilty, sir, and there is no recourse. You will pay. I will see to it myself.\n\nYes, you may think you're safe, hidden as you are in the swath of anonymity. You may think yourself untouchable, too well placed amongst us respectable human beings to receive the brutal justice you deserve. I hope you feel that way. It is my sincere wish that you sleep soundly tonight, so that when the day comes that I visit down upon you my wrath it is all the more frightening for you.\n\nThat wrath will be your undoing, that is my promise. I will show you the meaning of anguish and crush every joy you hold. Pain will be your only sustenance, so you'd do well to learn to love the taste of it. \n\nSir. You may now wonder about what act in particular I refer to. Surely you have a long list of disgusting, deplorable deeds for which you might receive a similar letter. The transgression of which I speak is surely your most sinister.\n\nYou, you scoundrel, you beast! You saw the man before you display truly selfless charity when he left several pennies in the tray for their taking and leaving. You saw as I did how he lost in that dispensation a dime, that piece snuck from his grasp between the outpouring of his goodwill. And you did snatch it up eagerly at his departure! You treacherous cretin.\n\nCozy yourself in that wretched den in which you reside, amidst cockroaches and vipers. I am on my way, with justice and retribution following behind me.\n\nSincerely, \nu/Drive_Thru", "Lenin stood, he was tired. He had a long day, but he knew this would be worth it in the end. He knew he might end up as the villain, but he had to do something, before it was too late.\n\n\"We stood by while you took our land. we stood by while you took our homes. We stood by while you stole my woman away from me, but this time, WE WILL STAND ASIDE NO LONGER! YOU HAVE TAKEN FROM US EVERYTHING BUT OUR REASON TO LIVE, AND GIVEN US NOTHING IN RETURN! THIS TIME, WE STAND AND FIGHT BACK AGAINST THIS OPPRESSION!\"\n\n\"This time, WE FIGHT FOR SAKE OF A COMMON GOAL! WE FIGHT FOR EVERY MAN OUT THERE THAT HAS BEEN WRONGED! EVERY MAN OUT THERE THAT HAS HAD TO BEND HIS BACK! EVERY MAN WHO HAS SUFFERED AT THE HANDS OF YOUR KIND! AND WE WILL BE VICTORIOUS! FOR WE STAND FOR TRUTH AND FOR JUSTICE!\"\n\nThe woman beside him looked at him questioningly.\n\n\"Jeez, calm dawn, you can have the last slice! There's no need to yell at the kids for it.\"\n\nAs if on cue, his 5 year old son, and 7 year old daughter started to sob." ]	8
	[WP] You are a serial killer trying to gain a specific skill in a world where when you kill somebody you get their best trait but only get what they believed was their best trait.	[ "Our rebel army was all but defeated by the greatest tactician of our time. And here he was, tied to a chair in front of me. Merciless violence had made me the strong, smart, and ruthless Rebel leader, but I had no regrets. I did what I had to to take power. And I deserved it. Not even the Rebels could take it from me now.\n\nThere were risks of course. Everyone knew that you didn't acquire the victim's best attribute; only the one they thought was their best. My rebels had done their due diligence, even stolen the General's clearance interview: \"Prime attribute: Tactician\". Besides, it was pretty clear he had little else. He was ugly as sin, couldn't keep hold a press conference to save his life (not that that would help him now. hehe.) and barely passed his military graduation. But one thing he had, which everyone knew: he had single handedly devised the battle plan for every major encountered we'd had--all but one. And at that one tomorrow, with the tactical knowledge of the brilliant General, I would singlehandedly turn the tide of the war.\n\nI pointed the gun at his head. The serene look in his eyes was mildly disconcerting. They all acted a little strange in their last seconds, but I had never seen something that looked like happiness. I pulled the trigger, and the General slumped in his chair.\n\nSuddenly, a feeling of nausea rocked me, and a looked at the General's corpse. I saw on his vest a single star, the government's highest honor. I reached out and lifted it off him, and as I looked at it in my hand, my eyes began to water, and my stomach knotted. I placed the star on my own chest, and turned the gun on myself.", "I was good. The best. I’d stalk my prey for weeks, choosing the best time to strike. They usually never even knew what hit them. I was forgiving, after all; I just needed what only they could give me. \n\nIn this world, if you kill someone, you get to acquire their best trait. Regardless of what that trait was, be it looks, wealth, health. You killed them, you got it. You get to leave all the baggage with the corpse, taking the best and leaving the rest. There was one catch: you obtained the trait that they believed was their best trait. \n\nSo people like me, harvesters, were known to stalk the most successful, beautiful people. We would study them, learn their habits, identify their weaknesses, and once we had done our homework, understood our prey, we would strike. After it was done, we would transform. It was an awkward feeling, almost unnatural. A feeling that many people would never experience. \n\nIn our world, even with the knowledge that harvesters were out there, people would still get greedy with love, power, or riches. We harvesters were greedy too. All we could focus on was acquiring new skills, looks, or personality traits. We would literally morph ourselves into the best person we could become. All we had to do was not get caught. \n\nMy most recent source, I’d been studying him for weeks, which turned into months. He was an incredibly powerful man, handsome, tall, and successful. He was a tough read. But I was no stranger to due diligence. I was missing the personality trait for power, unrelenting power. And this man had that quality. I just had to ensure I wasn’t wasting my time with a subject that I already had the skill for. I was already handsome, wealthy, and intelligent. I’d acquired those traits first. Now, it was time to harness my skills and apply them to obtaining more power without having to kill. No, this wasn’t killing, this was natural selection. \n\nThe stakes were getting too high to keep going with harvesting. Police were catching more of us lately. It was getting too difficult to dump bodies in the reservoir. It was a hard life. This source was my end game. He’d give me the necessary skills to get out of the harvesting world. He was it. \n\nThe night I decided to strike, it went like all the others. I was lying in the backseat of his car, waiting. He always worked late. When he got in the car, adrenaline pumping through my veins, I shot up like a rattlesnake, wrapped the belt around his neck, and strangled him. My own version of the snake bite. However, something in me felt different after it was done. For the first time ever, I felt ... remorseful. \n\nMy mind was flooded with a world of thoughts. I felt regret for my past transgressions. I was unable to focus on my current situation. People were walking by, took notice of me in the back seat and the dead CEO at the wheel. The police were called, and I was frozen. I couldn’t move. I was arrested without resisting. \n\nAnd now, as I lie here strapped to the table, preparing for my injection that would end me. I couldn’t help but smile. Not for my impending death, I knew I deserved what was coming; I smiled for what this man had given me. He valued the rarest gift of all, in a world filled with degenerates, greed, and low morals, this man’s greatest trait, one that often goes unnoticed, is hard to observe, the ultimate power. A power that is entirely internal. He’d given me integrity. \n", "\"Yeah, I am seriously the BEST cook you've every met. Maybe you want to come over and have some dinner?\"\n\nGreg chatted at the water cooler with Christina, her interest non-existent. I pushed my mail cart along, avoiding any eye contact.\n\nHe was a great bullshitter, and a man who knew his way with the ladies. At least we had equality in the office, because he was the office whore instead of Christina. She walked off calling him an asshole under her breath.\n\nI kept handing mail out like I have the last eight months at this crummy internship. Greg constantly bragged about his cooking skills to get women to come over, but he and I both knew he was the 'greatest lover in the world'. I've been stalking him for the last 6 months, and that's all he ever talks about.\n\nWhile I've been high and dry for the last 3 years, it takes Greg only 3 days to get someone to bed. Tonight, it's gonna take 3 hours to get to his house, hide in the closet, and wait until he comes home. Bimbo or not.\n\nI'm gonna break his neck like some covert ops, or something. Easy and clean with enough force in the right place. I admit, if I can get these skills in bed, it might help me get enough confidence with women.\n\nShhh, I thought to myself, he's here!.like a lazy ox, he slowly stumbled in. Greg was drunk, this would be easy. He fell down and I knew it was my time to strike. I ran out the door and charged him. Punching Greg in the jaw hurt, but at least he fell down. Screw it, I'm not gonna waste my time with the broken neck, I'm just gonna strangle him.\n\nI took off Greg's belt and fastened it on his neck. I was gonna make it look like he asphyxiated. As the belt tightened and tightened, I knew he struggled less and less. Staring at the digital clock, three minutes passed. Then five. Then seven. I didn't want him to survive. After ten minutes of suffocation, I propped him in the closet and left him to be found.\n\nI went to a bar a few days later, getting my head clear with some shots. I met a dame later that evening, and heading back I knew we were going to do the do. With this new 'ability' old Greg have me, it was going to be a night we'd never forget.\n\n...\n\nThe sex was awful. It lasted for about 30 seconds, and she was dry as a desert. After she left disappointed, I went to the kitchen to make a snack. A sandwich or something. As I was in there everything felt right.\n\nThe 'quick snack' ended up being some fancy Restarunt level stuff. It was like a million orgasms in my mouth! Tasted a lot better too. And then I realized... Greg fucking bragged about his cooking skills to bring them home. That motherfucker! He thought he really was a great chef! Dammit!\n\n... Guess I'm going to culinary school. Maybe meet a douchebag there who does think he's king of the sack.", "“No, I really mean it,” I say, flashing him a smile.\n\nHe’s standing by the door, his eyes darting from me to the easel that holds the centre of the room. His hands are thrust into his pockets, his cheeks flushed.\n\n“You don’t need to be polite,” he says, “I don’t normally let anyone in here, it’s just a hobby of mine.”\n\nThe walls are lined with the products of his hobby. He has worked from life, vases of flowers and household objects caught in the pale sunlight from the room’s single window. These hold no interest for me; I could casually pile them on the lawn in front of his house and set the whole lot ablaze. Competent work, well observed, but empty. It is the other paintings that have captivated me, the abstract, the off-the-cuff splashes of colour layered in hypnotising chaos. Yesterday, had you described these canvases to me, I would have scoffed. Without seeing them, I would not have been able to understand.\n\nToday, I have reached an uncharacteristically impulsive decision. I flit about the room, caressing this one or that one.\n\n“How can I put this?” I say, “I feel as if I can understand you, just by examining your work. Each one is an imprint of you, and each one from a different angle. They’re beautiful, all of them.”\n\nFrom among the field of art, I gauge his reaction. He shakes his head.\n\n“They’re just the work of an amateur.”\n\nI decide to change tack.\n\n“Look, I mean, we haven’t known each other very long, but you've been at the company for, what, ten years?”\n\n“Something like that.”\n\n“Filing. Answering the phone. Doing paperwork. You’re good at it, another five years and maybe you’ll be moving on up.”\n\n“Right,” he says.\n\n“In six months, I’ll be as good as you.”\n\n“Maybe, I suppose, you’re doing well enough so far, but…”\n\nI cross the room, to stand face to face with him. I'm a good inch taller, or maybe its just the difference in the way we stand. His sentence trails off as I stare at him.\n\n“What I’m trying to say is, none of that matters. Your amazing telephone manner, the rapport you build with clients, your sincerity, your professionalism. You think its important but its not. It’s child’s play, and I can master it in six months.”\n\nI take a deep breath, and take a step back.\n\n“But this,” I indicate the loft space with the sweep of my arm, “This matters. Give me six years, six decades, and I couldn't do what you do. This is what’s important, this is who you are. You just have to believe, you have to let everyone see it. And you have to see it in yourself.”\n\nWe stand in silence. I can’t bring myself to look at him, can’t tell if anything I've said is getting through. Maybe he’s furious with this half-stranger from work telling him what he should be doing with his life.\n\nThe floorboards creak as he shifts his weight. He’s standing directly behind me.\n\n“You really mean that?”\n\n“Yeah.”\n\n“I -”\n\nAsk him in five minutes, or in thirty seconds, how he feels about his art, and he’d laugh. Tell you it was just a hobby, that he’d never be any good. But in this one moment, he can see what I see. \n\nFor a handful of seconds, he believes.\n\nI free the knife from its sheath." ]	4
	[WP] The world is in a continuous cycle and things are repeating themselves every 100 years. How would the world evolve?	[ "Between the supraliminal spaces\n\nCenturion archeways spanning a life of fractal symmetry\n\nThe archetypes crumble into friends and neighbors \n\nI've known for eternity. \n\nGod, this explains why I'm so bored.\n\nAt their stories and houses.\n\nThe nightmares of history are dust\n\nMy personal nightmares, a storm on the horizon\n\nalways.\n\nIf it is solipsitic adventure than I am lost.\n\nIf, like a message in a bottle this finds you,\n\nIt means only we are lost.\n\nThe dream of technology reduced to childrens building blocks.\n\nPainted primitive faces peer, window decoration on a sublime farce.\n\nA mind cannot contain it\n\nyet the knowledge is taken up like a poison thing\n\nand I know that the seasons mock me\n\n\nferris wheels mock me\n\n\ninfinities mock me\n\n\nall that turns mocks\n\nand you... \n\nYou will read this again, in 100 years.\n\n", "\"One hundred years? Hell, we're lucky enough to get to the next commercial break before whatever old trope we're breaking down the door to get at goes and Hegels itself into normalcy again. Remember that CEO... What was his name - Burke? - who poisoned the water supply in Oklahoma or wherever with those chemicals? Yeah, Kansas. What were we, five hours into the news cycle, nothing else on our plate for the day, when the 'sumbitch just ups and resigns. Amidst all the shock and outrage. What is a man to do when his five o'clock teaser pulls an up-and-walk-out when he's got center stage? \n\n\n\"Find a new job, that's what. Or maybe ... Cindy, clear my schedule. And get Bob Thorndon on the phone. He's got a guy at the FAA, owes him a favor on account of Bob used to fuck the guy's mistress too. I'm not sure how well it'll go over, but I'm going to try and see if we can't make a plane disappear. Not for real, that'd ruin the fun. No, I'm talking a real Looky Loo-type shtick. Get them all hounding for it for days and weeks on end. 24/7, expert-testimonials, viewer polls, the whole nine yards. \n\n\"Yeah we'll make it all up from here on out. I was tired of the same old song and dance anyway. I think this'll be a change we can all believe in.\"" ]	2
	[WP] You find some old letters that describe your current situation strangely well	[ "As Steve blew the dust off the heading the words were starting to form in the yellowish old envelope. \"351 Baker Street, Pasadena, California\" read the first line. Steve had never been in Pasadena before, nor did he know anyone from there. Maybe he had a distant relative there? None of his parents or grandparents were from the west coast neither. Puzzled he turned the envelope around, and it just spelled \"Steve\" with an old fashioned calligraphy. \n\nAt this point he was curious, after all he was the only Steve in his family. His family had a lot of Thomas, Ralphs, and Staceys, but his name was the only one that was not repeated. His heart was beating faster now. Eager to know what the content of the envelope was, he proceeded to open it. The envelope was quite thick, pretty resistant for how old it appeared to be due to the accumulated dust. The ink wasn't even slightly faded, which struck Steve as something remarkably odd. \n\nDespite being anxious, he took care of opening without breaking even the slight less bit of the envelope. The letter inside was folded two times, and it was only written on one side. \n\n\"Dear Steve,\" Steve? I am Steve! Is this for me?, thought Steve. \n\n\"It has been a while since we last met, yet I still remember it like it were yesterday. I've been feeling lonely since then, I wish you would come sometime and make amends. Regardless this is not the reason I'm writing this letter to you.\n\nNot a fortnight ago I found a dark wooden box in my parent's basement filled with old letters, all addressed to me! Could you believe that? The material is clearly over 50 years old. But that's not even the worst part... These letters are signed by no other than you.\" After reading this Steve felt the impulse to read from whom the letter was, but there was no signature in the end, no sender's name in the envelope, he checked the other letters, nothing. He kept on reading:\n\n\"Yet that still isn't the creepiest thing about this whole issue, after all you have the same name as your great grand father, so at first I thought it might be him, judging by how old the letters appeared to be. But as I read on these letters described my life day by day. All letters strangely had a word for word detailed journal of my life. It went back as far as 5 years, right after I last saw you. Which is the reason I'm now writing you...\".\n\nAt this point Steve was confused, took a time to try to sort things out in his head. He proceeded to check the box, it was quite dusty but well preserved, no scratches, no signs of mistreating, nothing. There were around twenty or thirty envelopes inside it, all from the same address and with a big \"Steve\" written in every single one. This first envelope read Steve all in a fairly nice fashion, but the others were gradually becoming more crooked, and turning into non-cursive. The last envelope had just \"Steve\" except this one was all in capital letters, it covered the whole envelope and the calligraphy was quite ugly, shaken and even violent. \n\nA chill went through the back of Steve's backbone. He had second thoughts on reading this letter through, so he decided to put the box away. He climbed back from the attic into the hall, walked back into his room. Troubled, Steve jumped into his bed. He lay there watching the light flicker, his thoughts on the back of that letter. Who is this from?, was his first question. I was named after my great grandfather? Why did no one tell me about that?. He gazed out the window and wondered More importantly, does this person think I've been stalking and writing about his or her life?. \n\nFor a moment there he was curious, he looked back to his nigh table. There it was the open letter. He didn't remember bringing it back from the attic. Maybe his subconscious was playing him a trick. At this point he just threw himself to grab the letter and picked up from where he left off.\n\n\"At first I thought it was you, who had been stalking after me, just to play me a prank. But there were details of even what I was thinking at that time. I knew then that this was not written by you. Now you're wondering why it took me a fortnight to write to you about it. Well, maybe we should meet up and talk about it. Let me know if you can come on over. Love,\" then the letter ended without even a trace of a signature. \n\nSteve was not going to travel to Pasadena just because a letter said so. Yet his curiosity was peaking, he wanted to know more. He wanted to read the other letters. \n\n\n------------------------------\n\nThat's all for now! I have some ideas for continuing the story, but it feels a bit shallow, besides I feel like I'm not good at writing thrillers hehehe... Let me know if you want more!", "The party was going well. Johnathan and Connor were drunk enough to jump in the hot tub naked, even. \n\nAs the night unfolded, they found themselves in bed together. Where usually romance would unveil, they crossed dreams. \n\nTheir upbringing is predictably suburban. Almost a mini-van preparing to head to dance production, it was a running cliche. And in almost expected fashion, they were where their parents wanted them. \n\n\"I'm so ready to get out of here.\" Johnathan says.\n\n\"Tell me about it, my parents have been great, sure, but come on, I need to live a little.\" \n\n\"Come on what?\" Johnathan responded. \n\n\"No, fuck off, this is serious. Leaving home will be the healthiest thing imaginable.\"\n\n\"Exactly. I'm glad you understand. You know what it's like having these expectations pinned at you like you're a donkey.\" Johnathan said.\n\n\"I've always wanted to go exploring.\" Connor said, the room becoming quieter, almost more still, as the commotion of the party outside dies down. \"When I'm in NY, exploring will be priority number one.\"\n\n\"Schools already over and shit, let's just go. It's not like our parents can say anything.\"\n\nAs their conversation dissipated into the expected romance, they woke up bare chested and naked. Johnathan's head rested on Connor's shoulder. \n\n\"You know, what we talked about, we're really doing that.\" Connor exclaimed as he shuffled his pants up his legs and prepared to face everyone else's stories of their night.\n\nA few days later, and after a few exchanged texts, they agree to meet up near Johnathan's house.\n\nConnor drives up and parks, then prepares his overly large camera. He likes pretending to understand photography and art. Though that's mostly because of his parent's resources. \n\nWhen Connor was young, he used to be a serious dancer. The first dance studio he attended was an old theatre. Now, it's abandoned and they decided that was the best place to go first.\n\nWalking through the recognizable surroundings, Connor began running routines he learned years ago. They were full of runs, leaps, twirls, and as they did the genius in his movements became apparent.\n\nEverything in his life was movement and change. Dance was his medium, like sex is for survival and longevity, he needed dance. \n\nEither way, as he prepared for the final solo leap, the stage below him broke and below the stage was nothing but old binders with dancer's photographs. \n\nThe dust collected was older than Connor, though the pictures of him and people he knew terrified him.\n\n\"We should get out of here\" he told Johnathan.\n\n\"No wait, check this out Connor.\" Johnathan said as he pulled out a binder full of poems. \n\n> The Tale of Lovers\n\n> Don't let time disgust passiveness,\n> Once you learn to ignore disgust \n> Flightless eagles become an ironic cliche\n> the timpani of flapping wings showcasing\n> nothing but failure, and disappointment\n> And the extension of disgust overcame \n> those he learned to trust and love\n> and though he ignored irony, he died \n> valiantly. Pursuing dreams and love. \n> For flight was nothing but possible. \n\nAfter Johnathan finished reciting the work, Connor's eyes swelled in tears and he collapsed to his knees. When he was young, at this stage, the fear of failure was overwhelming.\n\nAnd Connor learned to ignore the world by following the steps choreographed and allowing his body to take control over all possibilities. And now, death became analogous to his movement. \n\nAs Johnathan scrolled through the pages, he found them all empty. At the end of the binder rested Connor's signature. \n\nThis sickening recognition of the surreal took over the lovers as they stormed out of there. \n\nauthor's notes\nI had an idea for a good story. Halfway through I needed to take a phone-call. I lost the idea instantly and realized I had no way to end it. Someone figure out a possible ending!" ]	2
"iWant you to sign up with Exxon Mobile today."	[WP] In a bleak future of rampant globalization, wars are not fought by countries, but instead by corporations... and Exxon Mobile has just merged with Apple.	[ "The conference room was on ice. The urgent news on the merger had brought President Lee out of his hospital bed to meet the board in the daily briefing, a rare sight that was not seen for a decade or so. Dead silence greeted the presenter, as the President and all of the 23 board members sat like statues digesting this new information.\n\nThe presenter took out a soggy handkerchief from his back pocket, and wiped his brow in futile. The position he had was a prestigious one, being a personal secretary of the acting-President, who was up until now running the company in place of his father, the chronically ill President; however, he would have traded with any other job position in the world to take himself out of the conference room.\n\nVice and Acting-President Lee was first to open his mouth. \"What we may be facing is the biggest problem that the company has faced in its entire history, President Lee. Although we still hold numerous strategic patents and still hold the majority of the markets in most of the population centers on Earth, this news will bring a whole new onslaught of aggression that can tip the war way into their favor from the current stalemate. They have already commenced attacks, and are taking control of the war using the new patents and the multiplied lawyers.\"\n\nThe board members were murmuring their agreement. Ever since the declaration of war, everything was in a turmoil for both Samsung and Apple. However, Samsung, as in a defensive position against Apple, was taking heavier losses. Various battles lead to deaths of many gifted Lawyers, and research on new technology have stalled. Many strategic patents have become nulled, as Apple bombarded the various location of their strongholds. The war weariness was huge on the stockholders, and this reflected on the board members.\n\n\"Shut your trap.\" President Lee finally opened his mouth. \"We are losing when I say we are losing. I have not responded to those scum's declaration of war just to declare our company has lost.\"\n\nVice-President Lee pursed his lips. Although he was 48 and the legitimate heir to the mega-conglomerate, his father still held high authority, even if he was 78 and near his death.\n\n\"The merger is not a huge surprise,\" croaked President Lee. Eyes turned to stare at him. \"In fact, this was already foreseen by my grand father.\" He hacked, and immediately a handkerchief was conjured by a board member. He continued, \"It was foreseen, that our rival would commence a merger with Exxon Mobile, especially at a time like this. It is in the interest for both corporations to go against us. When we merged with Hanwha, LG and GS Group long time ago, we knew that Exxon would find us threatening in their field. Already a partner with them at that time, my grand parent has considered this scenario with the President of Chevron.\" Each of the board members nodded. They were all originating from the corporations that has merged with the company.\n\n\"Contact Google and Microsoft, Lee.\" He grimaced. \"It is time we talked with them on the revival of our mutual enemy, Sony, from its grave.\" He paused. It was a decision that would make Apple raise their eyebrows. \"And put Chevron and Shell on the line. It is time to talk about the grand plan of our forefathers.\"\n\nHe grinned. Let the scums die a miserable death, he thought. \"It is time for the greatest merger of the 22nd century.\"" ]	1
	[WP] A man gets sent to jail only to find out that he is not alone. There's a talking koala bear locked up with him.	[ "\"Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree. Merry, merry king of the bush is he. Laugh, Kookaburra! Laugh, Kookaburra! Gay your life must be.\" \n\nJake was used to Karl's strange behavior. It had been six weeks since he'd been a \"guest\" at Merlin King's Correctional Facility. When he first met Karl, he thought he was going crazy. Who the fuck expects to wake up chained to a bed, with a talking koala sitting on your lap. \n\n\"Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree, eating all the gum drops he can see. Stop, Kookaburra! Stop, Kookaburra! Leave some there for me.\" \n\nKing's was not what Jake expected. He'd been accused of murder. Marissa had been his girlfriend of seven years, they had a child together. They lost a child together. Still, Jake didn't expect this to be how it ended. \n\n\"Kookaburra sits in the old gum tree, counting all the monkeys he can see. Stop, Kookaburra! Stop, Kookaburra! That's not a monkey that's me.\" \n\nJake rolled over and looked at the rather hazy form of his \"roommate.\" Karl was not a normal Koala, not in the way Jake remembered them. He was not fuzzy so much as... incorporeal. Other people in the facility had them too, smokey animals following them around. Jake had been a little upset he didn't have a tiger like Juan or a hawk like Ryan. \n\nJake was on minimum security, despite being a murderer and it seemed strange to him. Juan had stolen a car, yet he was under lock and key almost 23 hours a day. The same with Ryan. He'd stolen cash, no gun, nothing. \n\nJake figured it had to do with the type of animal they had. Floor One, where Jake was housed, had the tame animals. \n\n\"Kookaburra sits on a rusty nail. Gets a boo-boo in his tail. Cry, Kookaburra! Cry, kookaburra!\nOh how life can be!\" \n\n\"Shut him the fuck up, Jake!\" Bruce Landers, his neighbor, called from down the hall. Karl had taken a disliking to Bruce's friend. Jake had no idea what the rivalry was about, they were both from Australia. According to Karl, Alice the Kookaburra was a vain, frumpy little asshole. This made it hard for Bruce and Jake to be in the same room. \n\n\"Karl!\" Jake said. \"Why do you have to do that?\" \n\n\"Because I am fucking bored.\" Karl rolled over on his back. Jake went to the door, opening it and looking out. He gestured for Karl to follow him. \n\nNo one locked the doors on Floor One. They were imprisoned, for sure, but they were allowed to come and go as they pleased. It was like they didn't think Floor One was dangerous. \n\nThis made Jake wonder why he was even there. He hadn't even been in town when they found Marissa's body. He'd been called home early from work to identify the body. Something in his broke, shattered, and he'd fainted. He'd woken up here, and no matter who he talked to he was denied a lawyer, a trial, and a phone call. \n\nBut he had Karl. \n\n\"Kookaburraaaa!\" Karl started again. Jake kicked him with the toe of his black sneakers. \n\nJake passed by Bruce's room, looking in on his only real friend. Despite Karl and Alice not getting on, Bruce was the only person Jake could stand. Bruce believed him. Bruce agreed with him. \n\nAlice was sleeping on his shoulder, her black and white feathers ruffled. Bruce was reading a book in Japanese, something he tended to do a lot. Anything they asked for (besides a phone) was granted. Jake had been given real street clothes and this helped. But after almost six months in this hell hole, he didn't know what was happening or why they were here. \n\nIntent on going to the kitchen, Jake was surprised when Bruce looked up and gestured through the thick window for him to enter. Alice woke up the moment Karl entered. However, this time Karl didn't start the mocking song again. The room felt heavy and Bruce was almost too serious. He usually cracked jokes. \n\n\"Have you noticed anything strange about Karl?\" Bruce asked. \"Anything strange about anyone?\" \n\nSitting down on the bed Jake nodded. He hadn't spoken about his thoughts in a few months now. Bruce had been unwilling to talk about Alice and Karl. He hadn't mentioned the animals at all and seemed distressed to even mention it. He wanted to talk about their pasts, how long they would be in there, and the lack of real human compassion in King's. \n\nBut now, the open and desperate look on Bruce's face made Jake grow stiff. \n\n\"Other than being a talking Koala, no,\" Jake said. \n\n\"Has he ever done anything weird?\" Bruce said. He paused, before smiling, \"Besides normal Karl stuff. Have things moved on their own? Have things caught fire?\" \n\nBruce reached up and shook Alice awake. She yawned and greeted Jake with a chirped hello. \n\nKarl stuck his tongue out at her and rolled into a ball on the bed, his head on Jake's lap. Jake ran a hand over the beast's head. Karl was loving when they were alone, often riding on Jake's shoulder or sitting on his lap. It was like having a talking dog, but Jake loved the comfort. He had no one else who loved him. Marissa was dead. \n\n\"What do you mean? Light things on fire?\" Jake was not surprised. He didn't doubt it. He'd seen a talking tiger, been living with a ghostly Koala bear. Sentient animals were not the strangest thing apparently, if Bruce believed it was possible to become a human lighter. \n\nto be continued", "Edit: Warning, foul language below.\n\nClearly the koala isn't real--he keep talking to me but he just can't be real. Am I on drugs? Did they dose me with some experimental medication? Am I just losing my mind? I haven't been here long enough to be going crazy--what is wrong with me?\n\n\"Hey, asshole, you gonna answer me? I asked you a goddamn question: whatcha in here for?\"--Oh no, more talking. Do I respond? Does that make him real? This doesn't make any sense. Is this a cruel joke? Are the other inmates messing with me?\n\n\"I'm...\"\n\n\"You're what? You're fucking what? Why the fuck are you here? Are you fucking stupid? Did you not understand the last four times I asked you?\"\n\n\"I'm...just surprised...mostly that you can talk. And that you're here.\"\n\n\"Oh, great. We've got ourselves one of those fucking elitist criminals. Let me guess, you're innocent, never committed a crime in your life?\"\n\n\"But I actually didn't do it. I'm really innoc--\"\n\n\"Bullshit! Bullshit! Don't lie to me, kid. You already had your chance to lie before your jury. I can read bullshit like a lie detector. You know I'm a criminal, right? Why the hell else would I be here. Why do I gotta room with the stupid kid?\"\n\nSo he is real? I don't know what to think. How? Why? I'm not even sure which questions to ask--this doesn't make any sense. Who is trying to steal my sanity? What have I done to deserve this?\n\n\"I just don't get it. Why are you here? Aren't you a marsupial? You don't even have real thumbs--what crime could you commit without thumbs?\"\n\n\"What...what fucking crimes I can commit? Are you fucking serious? You know we're locked in a small space together right? When you go to sleep tonight, I'll show you the fucking crimes I can commit, you racist fucking douche.\" \n\nOh no, what have I done now. And is that racist? Am I racist? No, I can't be, I don't think. Definitely crazy--I'm talking to a koala with a midwest accent--but probably not racist. I don't even know what to think anymore. What is wrong with me? I don't want to be here anymore, I just want to go home. All I want is to go home.", "Steven had never been much of a morning person. No matter what he tried, he could never seem to find the energy to will his limbs into movement, despite his multiple alarms. The method he was currently using to get to work on time involved his girlfriend dumping a cup of water onto his face - the shock of that normally got him ready to face the day. This time, however, it was different. It really felt like there was something stopping him from getting up - even his eyelids were slow to move. When they did finally open, he almost wished he had kept them closed. \n\nHe was in a tiny concrete room, with a window set high in the wall, covered over by thick steel bars. There were straps holding his arms and legs to a rickety bed, but they were loosely bound - he must have been given some drug to keep him pacified. All he was able to do \nwas stare up at the lights and wonder what had led him here.\n\n\"Oi.\"\n\nThe voice started him - there was no way there could be another person in the room.\n\n\"Oi, you awake yet?\"\n\nHe wondered if he could be imagining it - after all, this seemed suspiciously like some kind of psych ward.\n\n\"Listen, arsewipe, if you're awake and not talking to me then I'll bloody take my conversation elsewhere, and this place is pretty nasty to be alone in.\"\n\nThere was no way you could imagine that, especially the broad Australian accent. \"Hello?\" he whispered to the empty air.\n\n\"Ah, so the nutjob is awake. What did you do to get in here, then?\"\n\nSteven was about to take offence with being called a nutjob, when a thought struck - he really had no idea why he was here. It was just fuzz in his head. \"I... I don't remember! What did you do to me? Where the hell is this place?\"\n\nThe voice must have sensed his panic, as it moved a little closer.\n\n\"Easy mate, calm down, I've not done anything, I'm locked in here same as you. I'm Jerry, resident of the Cedar View Home for the Mentally Disturbed. Nice to meet you.\"\n\n\"Sorry, I'm Steven. But I'm freaking out here, I really don't know what I could have done, I'm not crazy, I know it!\"\n\nThe voice let out a chuckle. \"You'd be amazed how much you hear that around this place. Let me have a look at your chart.\"\n\nSteven pushed his head to the side as much as he could, but he couldn't see anyone walk past. Nevertheless, he soon heard the rustling of paper, and the tuneless whistling of whoever the hell it was he was talking to.\n\n\"Hmm, Sarah, Simon... Found you. Says here you were out on your front lawn, shooting randomly into the air, screaming about masked gunmen. That ring any bells for you?\"\n\nSteven rolled onto his back again, in a state of confusion. He owned a gun, yes, but he'd never even threatened to use it before, let alone start firing it off randomly.\n\n\"Let me try and help you. Can you remember what happened yesterday? Anything at all?\"\n\nHe cast his mind back and desperately tried to think of something. \"I'm sure I was at home - Laura, my girlfriend, was called in to work, so I could have a quiet evening and just watch the football.\" Bits and pieces were coming back now. \"I remember... I remember getting up for a beer, going out to the kitchen. Wait, hang on. I was walking back, checking my phone... That's it! I looked up, and there was a guy standing right by my window!\"\n\n\"Go on.\" The voice was closer again now, obviously interested in the story.\n\n\"I shouted at him, told him to get away, when I saw he was carrying a gun. So, I ran upstairs, to get mine out of the safe. I looked outside, and there were 3 more, all in masks, stood in a line outside my back door. I called 911 then, I was so scared... The operator said the police were on their way. But then I heard a scream...\"\n\nHis voice cracked as the memory came back to him. He had to stop talking to compose himself. Laura had arrived home, and they'd grabbed her. How could he have forgotten that? He took a deep breath, and carried on.\n\n\"It was Laura, one of the men had grabbed her and pushed her to the floor. I lost it, I went straight out the front door to get to her, I must have been firing at them, but I really don't remember it. From there it's all just black, until I woke up here.\"\n\nThe voice chuckled again - it was making Steven angry. Why wouldn't he show himself?\n\n\"Yep, that makes perfect sense, pretty textbook really. You're definitely supposed to be in here.\"\n\n\"What the hell are you talking about?\"\n\n\"It's got the police report in your file. Those masked gunmen? Jehovah's Witnesses. Those \"guns\" you saw were just pamphlets they were carrying. They didn't grab your girlfriend at all, just stopped and asked her to talk. You, my friend, are a class A nutjob.\"\n\nSteven didn't believe it. He couldn't believe it. He knew what he saw! They'd grabbed her! What else was he supposed to have done?\n\n\"I saw gunmen, I don't care what you say. You're lying to me!\"\n\n\"Hey, don't shoot the messenger - or the Witnesses, for that matter. Sorry, bad taste. But trust me, you're better off here; there are a lot of people who don't believe they're crazy - they think that hallucinations means giant beetles, or something ridiculous, and of course they'd know it wasn't real. The thing is, the human mind is tricky when it breaks. \nYou can have a Jehovah's Witness knock on the door and if your head is in the wrong place, the fear takes over and what you see is gunmen attacking the person you love.\"\n\nThe bed shifted slightly; it was like the voice had sat down next to Steven's head. \n\n\"The weird hallucinations do happen, and I've got a theory as to why they do, but are rarer. It's because part of the mind has realised something is wrong, and by showing you something ridiculous, or implausible, it hopes that the shock will convince you.\"\n\nSteven was about to reply when a furry grey face appeared above him, and the realisation of what it was, and what had happened, hit him like a thunderbolt. His entire world shattered around him.\n\nThe face spoke to him.\n\n\"But hey, what do I know. I'm just a talking koala.\"\n\n\nDISCLAIMER - the psychology stuff at the end is purely made up by me, I doubt that's what happens in the head but hey, artistic license." ]	3
	[WP] "Look at these kids; they grew up in a world without hope. Without sun. Everything here must be amazing in their eyes"	[ "A house, on a hill. A small, green house. Yellowing roof tiles, crackling old paint, floorboards just rotted enough to where they creaked and bent with every step. An earthy smell hung over it, and no matter how much they had tried, Gohar and Isli had never been able to freshen up the place.\n\nNot that they had tried very hard. Gohar sat quietly on the porch of the house, wheezing just slightly from the climb up the hill. He did not look to the house, he looked below. The field below, a swathe of yellow-green grass that expanded for miles and miles in every direction. Bugs floated around lazily, even the mosquitoes. Everything held this slight, hard to ignore sense of peace, of inherent laziness.\n\nThe kids idled below, running through the grass, and chasing the bugs that flew only just so high above their reach. Children of all ages shared the space of that plain. Many looked nothing alike, and for good reason. From all over the world they had gathered here, flocking from danger zones to the only place they knew to be safe. That was what they held in common. They were survivors.\n\n\"It's beautiful, eh?\"\n\nGohar turned his back towards the house, smile plainly showing on his face. Isli leaned against the doorsill, her light brown hair lightly flickering in the wind.\n\n\"Aye. Beautiful.\" Gohar rested his eye once more on the figures below, lightly yawning in contentment, \"Hard to believe that not too long ago, these were all refugees, fighting for their lives.\"\n\n\"To be fair, they still are.\" Isli sauntered over and sat next to her husband, \"Simply, safe now.\"\n\n\"Not quite. Not yet. But soon.\" Gohar's smile slowly faded, replaced with a worried expression, \"They will long for their homes. Yet danger still exists in those worlds.\"\n\n\"That is true.\" Isli sighed, knowing her husband would not put aside his worry, \"For the moment, Gohar, let us enjoy what we have. Thousands of families and loners have joined together upon The Scar. Refugees from all places, and not a fight to be heard yet. These people wish not for a fight. They wish only to live, and to live well. The war will end, as all wars before it have.\"\n\n\"I worry for the children, Isli.\" Gohar turned to her, lines of age showing where only moments before only before youth had danced, \"Will they be forced to return to their homes? The Scar is forgotten, but it will only be so long before tragedy follows us here.\"\n\n\"Gohar, you worry too much.\" Isli gestured at the people below, breathing in deeply, \"Do you see them? All the people? We are old, but most of them are not. Look at them; they grew up in a world without hope. Of terror, and need. Of darkness, of hopelessness. The Scar is their paradise.\"\n\n\"I know that.\" The old man creaked, \"But... will it last?\"\n\n\"I believe so.\" A shout came from below, followed with laughter as a group of children collapsed in a pile. \"You have become cynical with the world. The war shall pass.\"\n\n\"I sure hope so.\" Gohar leaned against pillar of the old, rickety house all the worry in the world resting upon his shoulders. Isli rested her head on his shoulders and smiled. She knew her husband too well to believe she had soothed his fears. Though, somehow, she knew those kids would not need to return to the war. Some would, sure, but none would be forced to. Some would stay and build their lives upon the small patch of greenery that they knew as the scar. Others would set out to rebuild the world that had fallen to pieces behind them. \n\nShe knew it.", "The sun shun bright that day over that horrific place where the girls were found. The press say it's been 13 years that they've been isolated in darkness, but from the looks on their faces it looks more like a lifetime. Their torn faces covered with fear tell more than a thousand stories that I would not wish upon my worst enemy. My ignorance of their life is something I wish to remain hidden from my mind.\n\nThe 'father' who held them captive shot his brains all over the kitchen floor the moment the police broke into the house. May his soul be tortured for an eternity for the crimes he has committed. No monster should be allowed such an easy escape from reality. \n\nI heard someone say to me the other day: \"Look at these kids; they grew up in a world without hope. Without sun. Everything here must be amazing in their eyes\".\n\nAnd how I wish it was the case that these kids were amazed by the sudden revelation of a new world. Bright and filled with light. Where the trees look like immobile slumbering giants and the ocean looks like a gods infinitely big bowl of water. How I wish they were amazed at the world that is caring for them. But looking into their eyes I could see that no matter how many stars they saw at night, no matter how many helping hands they got, life will never really be beautiful for people with demons as vulgar as theirs. ", "We had our own brand of hope. We had our sun. We believed in something bigger than ourselves and we were punished for it. They said we needed to learn, but all I wanted was to be with him. We met him years ago, too many to count and since we saw it we knew that was it. Nothing else really mattered now, did it? No, it didn't. We had it all. They took him away from us though, they said we were evil when we were with him. How could we be evil if we just did what we were told to do, taught to do? They treated us like kids, like little children. We were kings. When we were with him we were more than that, we were invincible. But they they took it away from us. They kept saying: look at the sun, look at the world, look as it breaths and sways with beauty and hope. All I could see were chains and my loss. They would never give us our precious back.", "\"How can anyone explain it?\" he asked, his voice cracking with distress.\n\n\"I don't think I can,\" she replied, \"I'm reminded of Pit Ponies, but that was... terrible, but still.\"\n\nHe frowned, not understanding the reference.\n\nShe couldn't finish what she was saying. She was too preoccupied looking out across the sea of tents. The refugee camp that stretched for miles.\n\nThey wandered amongst them. It was quiet outside. There were troops patrolling out towards the edges, but here and there a doctor and nurse moved from one tent to another.\n\nThey followed a nurse into one of the tents and found her in the dark kneeling down by a boy. They'd seen some of the other children whose conditions though horrifying were not as emaciated as this boy. This was the worst, or at least the worst they'd encountered so far. Distended stomachs, bones protruding through skin, hollow eyes, wheezing breath.\n\nHe whispered to her, 'What's a Pit Pony?'\n\n'They used to put them down mines when they were young. And there this pony would grow up and live and work until it died. They couldn't take them up and down on the lifts, so that was their whole existence,' she said, almost coldly. And then she choked and tears fell and she said, 'But these people put their children down there.'\n\nShe couldn't stay any longer, and rushed from the tent, back into the light. He followed her out and found her on her knees weeping.\n\nHe didn't know her very well, their relationship was a work one. He didn't know how to comfort her.\n\nAnd then a tent opened up ahead. A small girl cautiously walked out. She had to shield her eyes. A moment later another girl also exited the tent. She looked like the smaller one's sister. Neither had never seen sunlight that they could remember. But they did not rush back inside.\n\n'Danielle, look.'\n\nShe looked up and saw the two girls. The eldest girl took her sister's hand and smiled.\n\n\"Look at these kids; they grew up in a world without hope. Without sun. Everything here must be amazing in their eyes.\"\n" ]	4
	[WP] Write about two completely different people and their lives right before they happen to meet and never see each other again, an event which changes their lives forever. Keep the reason for why their meeting might change their lives completely implied.	[ "Once there was a zoo keeper named Kevin, he was morbidly obese. There was also a banker named Ellen and she was very beautiful. One fine spring day Kevin was eating a sandwich just like every Friday afternoon while Ellen made plans for Hanukkah. They were about to cross paths. Its possible that Kevin had a loaded Luger pistol and would accidentally shoot Ellen, altering their lives forever, but thats just an implication by the fact Kevin had a loaded gun and they were just about to meet and the gun was named by brand. Typically small details being pointed out in mundane objects help show that they will come into play at some point. The end?", "Jude had walked through the park three or four times looking for the perfect tree, and it seemed like the first one he’d seen—the one behind the bench he was now sitting on, right next to the water—was the best he’d find. It seemed fitting that he would’ve spent the past four hours looking for a better tree just to come back to the first one he’d seen. As he patted the bag beside him, he tilted his head back to look at it one more time, just to remind himself the branches were thick enough. Soon…now he just needed to be the only one in the park.\n\nThe boy had been sitting on the bench across from that first tree since Jude had first entered the park. The roses at his side were wilting, now—he still had them in the plastic film he must have bought them in. Jude had always liked flowers. That was one of the reasons guys like Phil had always picked on him. He’d proved he wasn’t gay with Sue, but that didn’t stop them. But it didn’t matter anymore, he’d show them…as soon as this stupid little shit gave up and went home.\n\nSuddenly the boy stood, almost like he’d heard Jude’s thoughts. Jude tucked his head to hide his smile, but when he looked up he saw that the boy had left the roses. He didn’t know why he liked flowers, but he always had, and he’d never been one to watch flowers die.\n\n“Hey!” Jude yelled after the boy as he jogged over to the bench and grabbed the roses. “Hey! You left the roses.”\n\n“I know,” the boy said, turning back to him. “They’re dead anyway.”\n\n“Well…do you want them?” Jude asked, holding them up. They had definitely wilted, but some water and some sunlight would easily fix that.\n\n“Are you going to tell me not to give up or something?” the boy asked, and Jude could see that he had tears in his eyes.\n\n“No,” Jude stammered. “I mean…I was just going to tell you that some water and sunlight will get them standing up straight again…they’re not dead yet…”\n\n“Oh,” the boy said, and then he reached out and took the flowers from Jude. “Thanks.”\n\n“Don’t mention it,” Jude said. “Just make sure to get them in water quick.”\n\n“Okay,” the boy said with a smile, and then he turned and ran out of the park.\n\nJude looked back at the tree and smiled wider than he thought he could. He left the bag where it was on the bench and walked out of the park. He finally didn’t need it anymore.", "God damn, it was cold. I rushed into my old V8 Chrysler and chugged off toward campus for an afternoon of classes and to meet with my ROTC training officer. The snow that was falling was blurring my vision of the roadway, just like the noise grinding in my head, now, and all last night (the snow could have been a metaphor for the indecision in my mind).\n\nI see a hitcher ahead, long hair, baggy ass clothes, probably a fucking hippy, which I don't have much respect for, but I've walked a lot as a poor kid, so I slow down and flick open the passenger door, and in he hops. \"Thanks man, it is cold!\"\n\nI immediately see a metal cross hanging on the front of his shirt, and he's carrying a ragged ass, well worn Bible. He says he has finally got a job down a the local youth center, and that he finally has a chance to turn his life around, making some scratch, and helping others.\n\nIn our ensuing small talk, he hears that I am going to war in a few months, went to school to do, trained to do it, but that I am having doubts.\n\n\"Fucking doubts man will do you in.\" \"I nearly didn't head to this job because it was like 6 miles away; but here your are; faith over doubts ever time from here on out for me.\" I drove another two miles, pulled over at an intersection; \"right down the block there, and you're home.\"\n\nI got a good look at the patched ass on his corduroy paints as he jumped out. He spun around and said, \"thanks again for the ride, I'll be praying for you to come home safe.\"\n\nFourteen months later, I push the nose of my F-105 down, and rack the throttle forward to full military power, into after burner and beyond. I mumble it to myself, \"fucking doubts will kill you man.\" Just one pass right down the block here, then \"we'll go home.\"\n\n\n", "His fingers trembled just slightly as he touched the bathroom mirror. In the tiny beads of post-shower condensation, he could make out a thousand copies of his face, all giving him the same, sullen expression. He tried to force a smile, just to see if it was still possible. The glassy stillness of his eyes told him that perhaps it wasn’t.\n\nShe laughed as she watched her husband dance around the kitchen table, his arms flailing in the air, his mouth wide in delight. On the stereo beside her, volume dial pushed to the maximum, was the terrible one-hit wonder that was playing in the background when they first met. They had danced then, and she would have danced now, if her fingers weren’t tapping anxiously against the side of her coffee cup. He asked her to stay for a few more minutes, and reached for her hand across the table. She smiled and turned away.\n\nHe took one last look at the contents of the backpack before zipping it up quickly. If the hotel had security cameras in its rooms (unlikely, but he was a cautious man), he didn’t want them to catch a glimpse of what was inside. He almost didn’t want to look at it himself. But now was not the time for reluctance, and he strode towards the door with a false sense of purpose. The door was annoyingly padded to prevent slamming, and he only heard it click when he was halfway down the hall, already thinking back to the video tape and letter left on the crumpled duvet.\n\nShe pulled the well-worn phone out of her pocket and shoved a wire into it, scrambling to untangle her knotted earphones while rushing towards the train station. She was hit with a pang of guilt as she scrolled through the jazz and new-age records – the music that “really heals your soul, y’know?” according to the unnecessarily irritating co-worker who had lent them to her – but quickly dispelled it with the sound of pounding, shameless pop music. Her steps matched the beat as she swiftly descended into the Underground.\n\nHis footsteps sounded unnervingly loud as they echoed through the Underground tunnel, the undersides of his new shoes tapping against the stone stairs. His bag bounced again his back and he had a moment of panic – what if it went off, here, now? No, no, don’t think about that. Focus. He almost wanted to flash his pre-bought ticket to all the security guards he saw, but told himself not to act suspiciously, and tried not to make eye contact with anybody. Nobody sought to meet his eye, either, and for the first time, he was comforted by that.\n\nShe ran for the train, and made it by just pushing one toe over the threshold of the carriage before the doors closed completely. It was already packed, and she heard frustrated sighs coming from the other business suits and skirts as she and another man pushed their way into the crowd. She noticed that he bore a fleeting resemblance to her husband, and attempted to flash him a smile, as a rare show of camaraderie during the morning rush. He didn’t see it.\n\nThe woman next to him was smiling, and he knew it. A woman was smiling at him! A few months ago, it might have seemed a blessing – it might even have changed his mind – but not now. He told himself he was very, very sure of what he was about to do. Despite that, he waited for the train to rumble into the dark tunnels before pulling one strap of the bag away from his shoulder.\n\nShe saw the man who leapt on to the train with her beginning to remove his bag, which she thought was a reckless decision, because it forced the cramped positions of those around him to go from simply uncomfortable to positively intimate. Her elbow was just brushing the chest of a rotund man in a pinstriped shirt, whose tie was printed with jovial cartoons of poppies and daffodils. It was spring, after all. It lightened her mood a little.\n\nHe’d studied the route meticulously, and knew he had a minute or less. He’d ridden this train many times before. He could almost recognise the faces by now, but he told himself to forget any recognition, forget any sentiment, and unzip the bag. By now, he was attracting a few wary looks. He looked up to meet the eye of the woman next to him. She was smirking as she inspected a fat man’s tie, and continued to smirk until she glimpsed into the bag and saw a flash of dark metal.\n\nShe made out a shape in the darkness of the bag and felt her heart drop almost instantly, because she hadn’t seen one of those . . . those things in real life before, but she recognised its appearance. But it seemed so out of place here, like a stolen prop from an old Western movie. She didn’t have time to react consciously, but her eyes began to close, as if they knew what was coming.\n\nHe wrapped his hand around the metal and withdrew it from the bag.\n\nShe leaned closer to the man with the colourful tie, eyes shut.\n\nThe sound of the shots was drowned out by the squealing of the rusty tracks.", "Paul pulled himself from sleep he didn't remember starting. As he blinked the sleep from his eyes he took in his surroundings. Since he'd left home he was used to waking up in areas he didn't recognize, and today was no exception. As he sat up, his backs audible groan stood testament to the fact he slept on pure foundation. He shivered from the cool touch of asphalt on his bare skin, and found his tattered, stained shirt slipping it over his head. He finally rose, taking himself in the mirror. His hair had grown long and matted as a rat's nest in his time on the move, you could hardly even tell it was blonde at this point. His once luminous eyes were sunk, a dull reminder of the ice blue they had been. His bones seemed to protrude at odd angles, he was slipping further and further into his addiction. As if on cue, a draw from deep within that spoke of ravenous hunger began to poke at him. Time for a fix.\n\n\nSally was in a hurry, she hated being late, hell she hated to be on time. She epitomized the idea of being early is being on time. Like a well oiled machine, Sally was always reliable. Leaving her posturepedic mattress had proved especially difficult this morning, and her snooze button finally saw some attention. She looked at her made bed now, longing for it's soft support. She turned back to the task at hand, deftly pulling her hair into a tight bun. She shut the bathroom door, and took herself in the full length mirror that adorned it's opposite side. She was dressed sharply in a neat two piece suit. Ever the professional, pants were her only option for bottoms. Her mascara truly stood in stark contrast to the soft sky blue that was her eye color. Her once blonde hair had grown dark with age eventually turning brown, and nearing fifty she assumed it would start graying eventually. With a sigh, Sally realized she was truly sad. She had been a career woman her entire life, and slowly she was starting to regret it. She was truly and terribly alone. They say it's never too late, but at the time they could not be more wrong. With a start, Sally saw the time. Time for work.\n\nHer heels clicked on tile as she walked out of the lobby of her building. Sally had to admit to herself, that audible click click click like an over side clock spoke to her of power. Dressing like this, heading to her towering office building, leaving her high rise apartment, Sally felt important and like it that way. It was easy to see why she had pursued career advancement so diligently. She opened the door of her building, and emerged to a beautiful day. The sun and breeze caressed her face like the soft touch of a lover. She decided today, that maybe being late was worth it and took a slight detour through the park near her building. As she drew deeper into the shade she remembered why she didn't frequently pass through the park. The destitute were out in droves, grown adults ruining the beauty of this park by harassing the wealthy people who could afford to live in the area. Disgusting. She knew her best option was to keep her head high, avoid eye contact, and show no sign of relenting. \n\nPaul was muddled, after using it was always hard to keep his thoughts straight. He remembered leaving wherever he had woken up, but how he had gotten to the park was still sorting itself out. He took in the passing men and women, looking for a mark. These people were rich, and many felt guilty. Spotting the guilty was the goal, like some perverted game of cat and mouse. Suits were good, meant money to spare and probably a sense of urgency. Nobody proper wanted to talk to people like Paul for like, he found they would pay quickly for silence. He lifted the Styrofoam cup in front of him, and heard the jingle of change like keys on a ring. That sound brought him back to the last time he had to use keys on a door. Back when he was still at home, living with his mom. Now he realized his mom would be the perfect mark. She even wore suits to work. The morbid irony began to set on him, but Paul drew on his high washing the thoughts from his forefront like high tide would a sand castle. Paul once again began to prospect. From far away he spotted an older woman, walking quickly. Her head was high, and she seemed to be avoiding eye contact, perfect. Paul stood as she drew near, and began to stumble his way to a collision. Holding his cup with his palm flat over its mouth, he stumbled right into the path of the woman as she drew too close to react.\n\n\nSally should have been looking more forward instead of at the treetops. She bowled into one of the hapless so hard the man fell over. She had no choice, she turned to offer her hand to him to help him up. As she looked at him, their eyes met. She could see the need in him. He was obviously addicted, but this wasn't the need she saw. This was hardly more than a boy, and you could tell he would cry out if he could. His were a shocking blue, and she could tell he was once handsome, but was now a shell of his former self. It was like a sucker punch to the gut realizing all this. Wanting to do something, she quickly opened her clasp and handed the young man the cash she had. Staring into the boys eyes she continued to hold out the bills when finally he croaked, \"No thanks ma'am.\" Sally was left standing with her hand out, feeling more alone than ever. She couldn't even give to those in need.\n\nPaul made his way from the park, stopping only to drop his gathered change into another mans hat. As he made his way out of the protection afforded by the tree canopy the warm embrace of sun and breeze caressed him like the soft touch of a mother." ]	5
	[WP] "In a game between kings, A god is needed"	[ "\"What the hell are you talking about, Adrianna?\" My face probably looked as ridiculous as hers, mine with a shaking head and confused expression, her with a self assured smile.\n\n\"In a game between kings, a God is needed.\" She said again, brunette hair tossing as she sat back in her chair across the table from me. \"You need to raise the stakes.\"\n\n\"And how do you expect me to do that?\" I sighed. \"They're my brothers. Fratricide is the most damning sin - do you really want the furies after me too?\"\n\n\"No.\" Adrianna smiled, lips parting as her eyes glistened. \"I want you to take your rightful place on the throne. They're not your brothers, they're competition - take what's rightfully yours. Take the throne...and me.\" Her lips curled into a sneer. \"I belong to you, Darus the first.\"\n\n\"So what you're saying, Lady McBeth,\" I let the reference sink in for a moment. \"you want me to slay my own kin in a chance to grab the throne when my father dies, and make you my concubine.\"\n\n\"No, no, darling.\" She got up, slinking up to my chair and leaning in close. \"I want you to kill your father and you kin, and make me your Queen.\"", "Our decisions shape and change the fate of nations. How could we ever attribute what we do to ourselves? This war is a game. A game between two of the most powerful people on the planet, just as all wars are. The war is a gamble, a bet that you can make the other side fall before you. How could we ever admit to ourselves that is all it amounts to? The war must have a deeper meaning, it must be about good vs. evil. The war at it's core cannot be about winning and losing, that is the game buried deep within. The war must be about the righteous driving out the sinful.\n\nWhen we thinks about the war, we cannot imagine our soldiers as pawns on a board, to be sacrificed on a whim. The pawns, like the game, must be buried in the war. The soldiers must be the just bearers of truth invading and unjust and corrupt land. The soldier is bearing the word of a higher power. His actions are just and need no explanation.\n\nThe strategists are not planning a win in a game, they are planning a triumph for the right way of life. Their actions are influenced by their cause and the god that represent their cause. Theirs are not calculating and cruel minds that scheme for a higher number of opponent deaths. They do not deem a victory acceptable because the enemy lost more then them. No, no, no, they are merely adding slight nuances to an established plan where sadly many deaths are the pre-determined outcome.\n\nThe preachers are not propagandists serving at the beck and call of the king. They do not listen to the ones who cannot appoint them lofty positions and earthly rewards, that is preposterous. The preachers merely proclaim what the divine being has told them. They know what is best for king and country because the holy one has imparted his words to them. The actions of their country in war are desired by god.\n\nYou see? \"In a game between kings, A god is needed\"\n" ]	2

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