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
	[WP] Aliens have landed, but they don't have advanced technology; they use magic.	[ "And we landed so softly,\n\nAll wands at the ready\n\nOur Crobnak waved five arms\n\nAnd shouted \"Hold steady!\"\n\nThe humans, so fat\n\nSurged at once to our ship\n\nAnd we froze them in wonder\n\nHeld up magic space dip,\n\nAnd they called and they wailed\n\nBut our ship slowly trailed\n\nOut off of the ground\n\nAnd away to the sky\n\nNeeded two for the breeding\n\nOn hairless apes we'd be feeding\n\nA quick wipe and a seeding\n\nOn this planet they'd shat\n\nSo I went to the console,\n\nArcane viewscreens showed poor souls;\n\nI put on my robe\n\nAnd my wizard hat too\n\nAnd the feed was a frenzy\n\nBloated days were unending\n\nMother E'arth was unburdened\n\nand life sprouted anew.\n", "The creatures anatomy is not significantly different than ours, preliminary diagnostics through soft magic absorption shows a higher muscle mass and bone density, more intricate digestive system cable of both meat and vegetative digestion, and a highly developed frontal cortex. For all extensive purposes these organisms are almost a subspecies of our own except their limbic system is very underdeveloped. My initial hypothesis about these organisms is we have a highly coordinated bipedal predator with large cognitive abilities that lacks the ability to access the unified force gradient around it. Essentially an organism without the ability to conjure any kind of magic. This is the first organism witnessed without access to magic most likely due to it's low emotional capability. My expert opinion is approach organisms with caution, they will move incredibly quickly with unimaginable strength and may be very aggressive and territorial. I will continue observation but would like to request permission to perform a ground level trip with a full team consisting of a spectralist, alchemist, druid, and battle mage escort. I suspect these organisms of some sort of magic as it seems against the laws of the universe as we know it for these creatures to exist. Please reply through sending to our communication expert with further instructions. \n\nThe above sending is intercepted classified information obtained from the science council of the ruler, they have only discovered the race of beings known as humans. We will have to act soon before they can conduct more tests on the aliens. Intelligence has confirmed they have not discovered the critical advantage humans have over us yet. With their underdeveloped limbic system mental magics such as telepathy and advance consciousness combat has no effect on the creatures. They are ideal candidates to combat the ruler with, I suggest we find a candidate and recruit it to assassinate the ruler. I will be infiltrating the team sent to Earth Beta to prevent our interests from being lost. Down with the ruler! Sending out. ", "When they came, they did not come in flying saucers or rocket ships or teleporters. Instead, the aliens floated gently down from the sky. No ships, no space suits, no technology just tentacles and eyes and beaks settling on to the grass in front of the White House. There they sat calmly waiting. Guns were trained and meetings were held until finally an official negotiation team was assigned and sent out to find out what these ten foot high space jelly fish wanted.\n\nThis did not start well. The chief negotiator hoisted his bullhorn and started his introductory address. No sooner did the words start to leave his mouth then the closest alien pointed a tentacle at him and strange energy leapt across and enveloped the negotiator’s head. The guns roared. For a full minute, the only thing that could be heard was the chatter of automatic weapons fire, the boom of tank cannons, and the swoosh of the occasional missile. When the generals finally got the “Hold your fire” order all the way down to the corporals and privates on the triggers and the guns stopped, nothing had changed. The aliens stood there on the grass unharmed. The chief negotiator was still enveloped by energy and was also unharmed. There was gun smoke and many spent casings, but no damage.\n\n“Um, why did you do that?” asked the negotiator into his bullhorn.\n\n“Do what?” responded the alien in perfectly accented English. The words did not appear to come from any obvious orifice, but they certainly came from the alien that had zapped the negotiator.\n\n“Zap me.”\n\n“So that we can talk. We don’t know your language and you presumably don’t know ours. So I cast a Spell of Comprehension on you.”\n\n“Spell of Comprehension?”\n\n“Yes. It’s pretty basic, but it allows me to understand the intent of your words and then respond in kind. It’s kind of a direct link mentality to mentality.”\n\n“Oh,” said the negotiator, this time without the bullhorn. “So you can understand me no matter what I say?”\n\n“Perfectly and in whatever language or idiomatic context you choose. It will all just happen.”\n\nThe negotiator scratched his head. He looked around him at the other negotiators who just shrugged. Apparently, they could not hear. He looked at the soldiers, but they were all reloading and otherwise tending to their weapons. He looked at his bullhorn and dropped it on the ground. “But how did you do it?”\n\n“I told you. I cast a spell.”\n\n“A spell?”\n\n“This isn’t going to work very well if all you do is repeat my statements as questions. Yes, a spell.”\n\n“Like with wizards and witches and such?”\n\n“I suppose. But the context you give me is one of fantasy. I assure you that this is not fantasy, but hard reality. Otherwise, we could not be speaking.”\n\n“But… spells.” The negotiator shook his head and then remembered something. “Oh! What you really mean is that you possess technology that is so far in advance of ours that it appears as magic to us, right?”\n\n“No. I mean spells.”\n\n“Oh. No space ships hidden above the clouds responding instantly to your wishes?”\n\n“Nope.”\n\n“No nanobots imbedded under your skin generating this communication field?”\n\n“Sorry.”\n\n“Then how?”\n\n“By imposing my will on the reality around me. That’s what a spell is. I think it with enough force and it happens. Nothing more.”\n\n“And that’s how you flew down here?”\n\n“Yup.”\n\n“And stopped all of the bullets?”\n\n“Yup. Even stopped them from hitting you.”\n\nOne of the negotiator’s tasks was to assess the aliens’ threat potential. If they could stop bullets just by thinking, then they were nearly invulnerable. It might also mean that they could kill with a thought. That was not comforting. “Can all of your people do this?”\n\n“Most. In fact, most of the other species that share this galaxy can do it. You all are a bit behind in that you can’t.”\n\n“But there’s got to be some trick to it, right? You don’t just get born and start casting spells do you?”\n\n“Not quite. It something that we have to teach our spawn, but it is no more difficult than teaching them to speak or to properly dispose of their waste. Mostly it’s a matter of belief; if you believe that you can do it, then you can do it.”\n\n“But isn’t there some kind of field or particle or some scientific principle that allows this to happen?”\n\n“Maybe, but we don’t know what it is.”\n\n“You mean that you personally don’t know it or that your species doesn’t know it?”\n\n“Both. In fact, to our knowledge there is no species that has thoroughly investigated this phenomenon and is still able to practice its effects.”\n\n“Huhn?” The negotiator scratched his head again. This conversation had not gone in any of the directions that had been mapped out in the meetings. Instead, it was beginning to touch on that metaphysics stuff that he had failed in college. “I don’t get that last part at all.”\n\n“It’s easy. If you have to investigate the underlying principles of spells, then you don’t really believe in them, then they don’t work. We have records of a few species that thought they had figured out how the whole spell thing worked, but when they tried it again, they got all tied up in their theories and forgot to just believe. Very smart, but not too saavy.”\n\n“So, then to recap. You cast spells by believing that you can and that’s it? Does the glowing energy thing just happen as a matter of course?”\n\n“No, not really. We’ve got some sages and such that can do their spells without the visual effects, but most of us find that it makes it easier to believe in the spell if we can see it.”\n\n“Okay. That makes some sense. Then can I cast spells?”\n\n“Probably. Don’t see why you can’t.”\n\nThe negotiator screwed up his face, closed his eyes and pointed his finger at the aliens. He grunted and sweat stood out on his forehead. He felt a surge pass down his arm and out his finger. When he opened his eyes, he was no longer standing in the White House lawn, but back sitting in his office. He looked out his window. There were no tanks or missiles or guns, just another grey day in Washington D.C. His aide came in and put some papers on his desk.\n\n“Gerald,” he said to his aide. “Anything interesting going on out there today?”\n\n“Not really. Just the usual dust up between State and Defense. Nothing out of the ordinary.”\n\n“Great. Let’s see if we can’t keep it that way.”" ]	3
I was inspired by the Elves playing Allies and Axis: Non-magical battle game prompt and a comic I saw online before that I can't presently find.	[WP] In an alternate universe where Wizards and Dragons are the norm, a group of adventurers sit down to play "Faxes and Cubicles."	[ "\"Come sit Arguel, I'll show you how to play,\" beckoned Rohyn. \n\nArguel was hesitant. All of this 'F & C' was foreign to him. \"Must I?\" he questioned. \n\n\"Oh quit being such a bore!\" laughed Rohyn. \"See here,\" said Rohyn as he passed a character sheet to Arguel. \"You make up a name for your character, and write the stats. Since you're new I shall be the office master!\"\n\n\"This is all a bit geeky,\" Arguel shouted as he guzzled down some mead and scratched on his beard. \"Besides, I'm leading the search party for the dragon that was spotted over Runim not too long ago. Lots of gold for the man who hands over the swine's hide. Must be off!\" ", "John entered the tower just as the dragon spewed flames on him. \n\n\"Venerable Gandalf! Can't these dragons just leave us alone for one hooting second!?\"\n\nHe gazed around the room in search of his fellow interns. They had met through the DMW (Department for Mobile Wizards) and he was surprised to have learned that between handing out Teleportation Licenses and turning lead into gold these gentlemen managed to carry a game from their childhood \"Faxes and Cubicles\". \n\n\"Come in John Redbeard, we're about to assign work days.\" \n\nJohn quickly sat down with his dice and books, quite eager to begin \"the daily grind\". \n\n\"All right....state your characters and professions.\" Victor said, hushing the room of 4 in expectation of a new campaign to deliver quality goods in spite of Victor, the GM (Game Manager). \n\nA portly wizard by the name of Clausse began. \"Hello good people! My name is Erwin and I work in IT. I come from the University of Phoenix and because of my region, I am immune to AC (Air Conditioning) damage. I wear shabby comfortable clothes and you will always find a variety of stains on them.\"\n\n\"Nice, that will be a good modifier in interaction. Next?\"\n\nVianthra replied (John has a slight crush on her; ever since she saw her break the ranks of an oncoming orc army but he gets too self-conscious to do anything about it. Unfortunately for him, Clausse scyred him while writing a poem to her and now everyone knows)\n\n\"I am a busty teenager paying off my college loans by working as the secretary for the dreaded manager Steve (Fuck Steve). I received my degree at UCLA and though I may talk without end, I do have a bonus to the charisma roll.\"\n\n\"So you're gonna lead the focus group?\"\n\n\"Yes\"\n\n\"Awesome! John?\"\n\nAs John gazed down towards the work schedule he couldn't help but think that this was but a momentary respite from the magical horrors that lurked outside....behind the prismatic door. He liked to think that there was a slim chance that everything might one day calm down and everyone would just get along as they were doing now. Relaxing and living in a world created by themselves, apart from the hosh posh of alchemical reactions, magical beasts, and necromatic plagues. Maybe one day. \n\nHe looked down and breathed. \"Let's do this!\"", "\"Ha ha, nerdy fucking dwarves playing their nerdy fucking games.\"\n\nTragflax, with one orkish arm, cleared the table. The dice scattered and the dwarves scurried off in all directions.\n\n\"Hey Tragflax,\" a, relatively, beautiful ork blocked the entrance to the library. Tragflax's hormones were momentarily redirected and Mardo called his friends back to the table. The orcs exited the room, but after a couple seconds the group could see Tragflax's head peak out from the door-frame once again.\n\n\"I'll deal with you shitheads later,\" - he disappeared from view, \"hey thunder-buns, don't run off without me.\"\n\n\"Phew.\" The group collectively sighed. They began to make vulgar gestures after the empty door where Tragflax once stood.\n\n\"Now, does everyone have their character sheet?\" Mordo inquired.\n\n\"Ah, come on Mord, do I really have to play the Team-Lead again?\" Palby pleaded.\n\n\"It was random\" - it wasn't - \"so just play.\" Mordo responded.\n\nWith discontented grumbling from Palby, Mordo began telling the story:\n\n\"Welcome to Initech. A boss approaches you, asking about a memo. The two other bosses will also ask you about said memo. You have failed to properly fill out the TPS report, but with your neck-tie of added apology and your sycophancy plus three, you only need to roll an eleven or higher to end the confrontation.\"\n\nBalgoi grabbed his d-20 and rolled. An eight... \"Shit.\"\n\nMordo continued:\n\n\"The boss looks at your disapprovingly, 'Umm yaaaaa, I'm going to need you to come in on the weekend.'\n\nBalgoi, irritated by the outcome, slapped the table and folded his arms.\n\nThe loud speaker scratched and then a voice announced:\n\n\"This is not a test, dragon alert. Please head toward the meetup zone in a organized, peaceful manner.\"\n\n\"It's no fair,\" Mordo cried, \"we just started!\"\n\nThe group gathered their character sheets and dice and shuffled of to the room.\n\n\"Ouch\" Hargow grabbed his head. The others looked just in time to see Mordo receive the next hammer-blow to the head.\n\n\"Shut up,\" the bully commanded, the others looked at Tragflax. They could see that the 'thunder-buns' comment had earned him some abuse of his own. This did not bode well for their group. \"Time to get someplace...\" Tragflax paused and cracked his knuckles, \"safe.\"\n\nThe crew wondered if maybe the dragon would be less forgiving then this orc. The crowd forced them to the underground shelter, as well as Tragflax's numerous assaults. With their heads covered, attempting to mitigate the worse of the swings, the friends headed toward an uncertain fate.\n\n\n\n---This is my start, feel free to pick it up from here or I'll come back later and add some more.---", "\"Where's the Fairie Tonic!?\" shouted Albazel from the kitchen.\n\n\"It's in the Frost Crucible, duh!\" shouted back the Game Master, Xzavier. \"Okay, does everyone have their character sheets?\"\n\nThe group cycled back to table with their pencils, dice, and character sheets. Eliza, the Tiefling, wrapped her tail around her glass of wine, her teeth holding her pencil by the eraser, and furiously reviewed her at-will powers. Drake's black hair bellowed in a non-existent wind (probably something his Elven glamour cooked up) while twirling his Oak wand and adding up his remaining skill points. Albazel, the Dragonborn, rushed back into the living room. \n\n\"Okay,\" began Xzavier, the Human wizard. \"I know we've played a lot of these before, but this one is something new. It uses the old system, but there are a few new rules. Like, to use a power that has the 'WI-FI' keyword, you need to be in a WI-FI zone. Also, there are no Daily powers anymore, but the feats are so much more powerful than the old games.\"\n\n\"I don't know what half of these skills do,\" said Drake. \"What does Computer Proficiency do?\"\n\n\"It's like their system of technology,\" Xzavier answered. \"A lot of their spells and powers are based on these devices called Computers.\" He pronounced it 'KOMP-ooh-taarz.' \"If you're playing a Web Designer, your WIS and INT are your key abilities. You'll have to make a Computer Proficiency roll to do most of your powers, then you roll damage.\"\n\nEliza snapped the Player's Handbook shut and spat out the pencil. \"I seriously can't find anything about racial bonuses. Did I fuck up my character sheet?\"\n\n\"No...\" said Xzavier. \"I think they took out races from the game and replaced them with something called 'Degrees.' These are like backgrounds, right? Everyone's human in this game, and everyone has a Degree. Albazel's CFO is has an MBA, which means he gets +5 to Bluff and Diplomacy, and once per encounter he can cast Business Decision, which gives another player an extra At-Will action.\"\n\n\"Are there any Secretaries there?!\" yelled Albazel, even though he was at the table. \n\nXzavier ignored him. \"Okay, let's start. Drake, who are you playing?\"\n\nDrake answered in a proud, high voice, \"I am playing David Bernstein, Director of Accounting! With my Masterwork Ledger, I will avenge my family's bankrupt Telecommunications Business!\"\n\n\"Okay,\" began Xzavier, \"David Bernstein is standing in the SpyroTech conference room. The fragrant sent of cleaning agent emanates from the dark wood of the conference table. In the glow of the overhead flourescent lights, you can see an office phone in the middle of the table. It starts ringing\"\n\n\"I want to cast a spell!\" yelled Drake. \"I want to cast budget compromise.\"\n\n\"Why are you casting a spell, there's nothing to attack here.\" \n\nDrake thought for a second. \"I'm attacking the ringing!\"\n\nThe players laugh for a second before Xzavier regains control. \"You answer the phone. It's Rebecca Green, Vice President of Marketing.\"\n\n\"Whoa, that's me, right?\" asked Eliza.\n\n\"She is dressed in a business suit, and she has blonde hair and a blue smartphone cover.\"\n\n\"No I don't,\" said Eliza, \"I have a gray smartphone cover.\" \n\n\"What--let me see that sheet.\" Xzavier take's Eliza's character sheet. She reaches out with her mind and wills it back into her own hands. \"It says it right here,\" she indicates with the tip of her tail. \"It says I have a gray smartphone cover.\" \n\n\"Fine, it's gray. You guys can talk now if you want.\"\n\n\"Hello.....\" says Eliza.\n\n\"I am David Bernstein, Director of Accounting!\" yelled Drake.\n\n\"Then why are you casting budget compromise?\" quipped Eliza. The party chuckled a for a moment.\n\n\"Okay,\" says Xzavier, \"You both get an email from Albazel's character, the CFO, Ryan Friedman. He says you guys have to find $100,000.00 in the budget for new project development.\"\n\n\"Are there any any secretaries there?\" yelled Albazel.\n\nXzavier sighed and rolled some dice behind his screen. \"Yeah, there are,\" he said. He took his wizards hat off and rubbed his eyebrows.\n\n\"If there are any secretaries there I wanna do them!\"" ]	4
You can buy oxygen at your local store. You need about 550 L of Oxygen a day. Keeping that in mind feel free to write about a super wealthy family who can afford to exercise, or a middle class family who sometimes goes on vacations or an improvised family who is barely surviving. These are what I would write about, but the only thing that you must know is the title and the 550L so I save you the Google search. the examples I provided is just what I would write about, not stuff you must include or write about. Write about anything	[WP] In the not so far future pollution brought Earth to Her knees. Oxygen is so scarce that is is privatized and sold at 10 cents a L. What is the daily life like for either an impoverished, middle class, or wealthy family?	[ "Hi! This is my first time doing something like this, I thought I'd give it a try. It's probably bad but you have to start somewhere, right?\n\n------------------------------------\n\n*Time Is Oxygen\n\n“Well Avery, I certainly do like your style. We will be sure to keep in touch.”\n\nPushing back their chairs, the two men stood up. The dark man behind the desk wearing a pristine white suit leaned forward to shake Avery’s hand. He smelled of clean, sterilized air, of wealth and status. Avery put on a fake smile and shook his hand firmly, before heading towards the exit. “Thank you for your time Mr. Gordon.” He started to punch in his access code, lingering on the final number.\n\n“Is there a problem?” the white-suited man asked. He had in his hand a tablet, only looking up momentarily to see what was amiss.\n\n“It’s nothing, I just punched the code in wrong. Have a nice day.” A door slid open, only to reveal a small, empty room the size of a large elevator. He stepped in, grabbed his breathing mask from his waist, and wrapped it firmly around his head.\n\nA female voice came from the small speaker in the ceiling, almost chiding him, “Please put on your respiratory.”* He despised hearing it, being torn away from the fantasy he had entertained for the past hour. The reality of life inevitably caught up to him. “Atmospheric adjustments commencing.”\n\nThe air began leaving the room, replaced by a gaseous, brown sludge that swirled around him, like a drop of ink in a pond of crystal clear water. His ears popped, and he could almost feel the menacing presence climbing over his skin, enveloping all but his head, covered in his respiratory. He grabbed his oxygen tank that he had left behind, strapping it to his shoulders and attaching the hose to his mask. The doors opened, and he strained to make out the lobby, following the flashing white lights rather than the features of the room.\n\nWalking through, Avery made out the heads of others turning to look at him. Although the air was too smoggy to make out their facial features, the expression they wore was clear. Distrust, envy, hopelessness. He knew how they felt because he felt the same way. Even though he left the government offices, he did not belong, not yet at least.\n\n“Hold it,” a soldier jabbed him with the end of his rifle, “identification.” The soldier spoke in harsh voice, the respirator only adding to the menacing vibe he gave off. They stood before the entrance to the building, along with several other soldiers, all holding equally powerful firearms. Avery hastily produced his government ID from his jacket, and handed it to the soldier, who peered at it carefully. “What’s someone like you doing in a government building?” he said, more like a demand than a question. This was a different guard than the one he had told his story to on his way in.\n\n“I had an interview today, sir.” Avery kept his head down, not wanting to upset the soldier. You never knew if they were having an off day.\n\n“An interview huh? Be grateful that you have that opportunity, a lot of people would kill to be in your position. Now get on your way.”\n\n“Will do, thank you.” Avery walked by them, and stood out into the streets.\n\nHe stood surrounded by skyscrapers. Most of them, save for the government offices, were crumbling and covered in grime. Few people remembered how far up they went, it was impossible to see their steel peaks through the pollution filling the air. It was too dangerous to walk up the decrepit steel towers, all save for the government ones, but people like him would never have that chance. He looked both ways before crossing the street – a habit from the older times, back when cars were plentiful. From the corner of his eye he thought he made out a rat darting away from him and into the sewers, although he couldn't be sure. Avery had important matters on his mind. He had glanced at the gauge of his oxygen tank before leaving, only fifteen litres left. Enough to last him around half an hour, maybe a bit more if he was careful.\n\nHe approached a storefront on the other side of the street. A van was parked outside. Two men clad in white janitorial suits carried a man and tossed him into the van. He felt a pang of sadness in him, just the other day he had given him a few litres of oxygen, all he could afford. He must have ran out of oxygen, as was common, and simply died on the streets. These white clad men were sent out to retrieve those that had run out of luck, both to transport the dead out of the city and to scavenge for any useful supplies, if the common citizen hadn’t already.\n\nThe economy had collapsed. Fuel built civilization, and it now it had destroyed it. The rising air epidemic had ruined the nation, and eventually the government took over most facets of life and outlawed fossil fuels for all but the most necessary of tasks. People could no longer survive in Earth’s atmosphere, relying on government oxygen to survive the toxic wasteland. People found out that oxygen was expensive. Even though nearly everyone relocated to the cities, it was unfeasible to produce oxygen for six billion mouths – cities were a shadow of their former selves. Desperate to maintain order against the rising social instability, the government had turned into a police state. The private marketplace, and jobs, managed to hold on in the safe zones that the government provided, but the true prize was government work. It held the promise of clean air for all employees so that they could perform their job without worrying about their oxygen supply. Everyone vied for it, especially since when oxygen was getting increasingly expensive, but also loathed those that hoarded it for themselves.\n\nAvery walked into the storefront and approached the barred counter. Giving his oxygen tank to the white suited clerk, he said “Give me thirty litres,” handing him his finance chip. “Hurry please, time is oxygen.”\n\n“Sorry, but you don’t have enough on your card for thirty litres.”\n\n“What do you mean? I have enough for a fifty litres, I checked before I went out.”\n\n“Prices just went up. You have enough for twenty.”\n\n“That’s insane! The government is going to kill us all off if they keep raising prices!”\n\n“There’s nothing I can do about it,” the clerk replied, with a disinterested look in his eyes. The clerk probably heard this a dozen times a day.\n\nAvery got a look of hatred in his eyes that the clerk would’ve seen if he was looking up. Avery despised himself for wanting to become one of them, but this was a different world, one where survival took over petty principles such as dignity. “Fine, give me twenty litres.”\n\nThe clerk swiped his finance chip, and quickly pumped in twenty litres. He carried only what he needed, in case someone decided to rob him of his oxygen. Grabbing his tank and slinging it over his shoulders, he dashed out of the store.\n\nAvery had precious little time to travel back to his hovel, and immediately started walking home. Even though he was in a hurry, he made sure not to run, to save oxygen. The streets were a blur to him, ignoring his surroundings. The collapsing buildings, the oxygen beggars, the white soldiers marching to and fro, he didn’t want to be reminded of the world he was in, and focused on getting home, relying on instinct to guide him back. Along the way, he started getting lightheaded. His tank was thinning the supply of oxygen – he knew he had to hurry.\n\nHe walked up to his door in an apartment complex, and immediately noticed something was wrong. The door was unhinged. Dread filled his being as he dashed inside. Everywhere he looked was ransacked. He had no doubt in his mind that the few possessions he held dear were gone, but he did not give it a second thought. He had to go to his oxygen supply before his tank ran out. Before he took a step, he suddenly got faint, and stumbled. His air was almost out, but he still had time left.\n\nHe staggered into his room, and looked to the other end of the wall, where a safe was hidden in the wall, containing his oxygen reserves. He had hid them there in case anyone ransacked his home, in case of today. Walking up to the access panel, Avery started to punch in the access code, but was having trouble recalling his password.\n\n2-2-9-A-V-1\n\nError\n\nTime was running out. He couldn’t let all his work go to waste, especially when he was on the verge of finding security with a new job.\n\n2-2-9-A-E-7\n\nError\n\nWhat was it? He thought hard, but the oxygen deprivation was getting to him. He got more lightheaded, and tried desperately to recall the last digits.\n\n2-2-9-A-4-R\n\nClick\n\nAt last! The safe opened. He reached into the safe, the safe that held his lifeblood. He reached in, and grabbed… air.\n\nRing ring ring\n\nHis cellphone began to ring. Avery opened the safe, and his face was greeted with horror to find nothing but a swirling cloud of toxic waste. The unknown assailant had ransacked his oxygen supplies, condemning him.\n\nAvery slumped against the wall, and tried to ease his mind. In his final moments, he took off his respirator, taking in a lungful of air. The poison that he had tried to escape for so long had finally penetrated his being, corrupting him. Avery closed his eyes.\n\n“Hello Avery? This is Gordon. I’m calling to inform you…”\n\n------------------------------------\n\nWord Count - 1617\n\nSorry that it's so long! I was having fun writing it.\n\nEdit - Formatting", "I’d only just started my appetizer when they seated a Gasper near me. He hiccoughed as he requested his drink—water, no ice—then several more times as he reviewed the menu before ordering. I glared at him, but he didn’t stop, and he didn’t leave, he just sipped his water and avoided eye contact. Damned Gaspers. You see them lurking in corners at public enclosures just sucking in air like they have a right to it, like they contribute to society. They’re always clean—if they pollute the air with foul odors, they’re evicted from the premises—but after a while, you can tell a Gasper on sight. Or just by hearing them and their damned hiccoughs. \n\nThis is a public building, the owners pay Big Breaths to keep the oxy levels balanced, the airlock cycles to anyone with a pulse, and so long as Gaspers don’t make too much of a disruption, they’re allowed to come in droves. They always yank off their cheap breathers, close their eyes, and just stand there like idiot fish, for a few minutes at a time if their breather filters are really bad. Then they go about their business, moving slowly, still hiccoughing. A symptom of persistent oxygen deprivation, they say. Sometimes it fades, some of the bad cases never stop, even in a pure O2 room. \n\nThis guy was looking to be a chronic case. While waiting for my main course, I signaled the waiter, and pointed out the Gasper, but the fellow just shook his head. “Sorry miss, he’s a paying customer. I can move you to a private room, however.” The upgrade cost of a private room was ridiculous. I shook my head and heaved a large sigh. I’m free with my air, I can afford it, but I didn’t get this far by spending my money frivolously on private rooms or first class treatment. \n\nBecause I complained, though, he brought over a Chlorella Fountain with my lunch; this waiter wants his tip. He set it in front of the unoccupied space across from me. In a place like this, a cute little fountain like that doesn’t really make a difference the local air quality; Big Breaths handles that. But these things make lower class people feel better. I tolerated the addition to my table and returned my attention to my food. \n\nBefore long, I noticed the Gasper’s attention was fixated on the Fountain. He knew what it was, which is more than I can say for the average Gasper. Shame about the hiccoughs; he’s not bad looking. Underfed, dark circles under his eyes, but under all of that, he has good features. \n\nHe ordered more water. His meal arrived along with it, a light salad. His hiccoughs eventually faded. I debated the wisdom of a dessert; I set my own hours at work, so I felt no particular hurry. I ordered a dessert tea. Something to sip while I reviewed my plans for the rest of the afternoon. \n\nWithout the hiccoughs as a constant reminder, I forgot the Gasper, until he pulled his chair to the empty space at my table and sat down. The meal and the past half hour of good air had improved his appearance. I gave him a Look, the kind that, silently asks “What the hell do you think you are doing?” The kind that makes men blanch and apologize and leave. \n\nHe smiled a little, then held a small jar up to the Chlorella Fountain, half-filling it with the green-speckled water. He sealed it and tucked it into a pocket inside his coat. He returned to his table and paid for his meal. \n\nChlorella theft is usually on a much larger scale than this, gallons from public water features or building Air system vats. It’s big, it makes the news, and the thieves are usually caught. But a little jar like that, maybe a cup or two, it’s enough that he might be able to cultivate his own oxy-tub in time. \n\nDespite myself, I silently wished the Gasper luck. He was pulling himself up out of a hole, a bit at a time, and I can respect that. \n", "I wake up to the sound of my alarm beeping. I moan as I roll over, smacking it off the table. I flick the switch on my mask from sleep mode to full on. I stare around my tiny apartment. No bigger than a motel room, and not much more equipped. I pat around myself, looking for the remote. I flick on the tv, in the midst of a news report.\n\n\"...price of Oxygen has increased to 10 cents a liter. Companies such as Cleanair and O2U have repeatedly claimed that their oxygen farms are 'working overtime to meet the increasing market demands.'...\"\n\n\"Bullshit...\" I mutter to myself, shutting off the tv. I head over to the elevator down to the street. I moved swiftly and calmly, consuming as little oxygen as I could. I climb into the electric taxi and hold my thumb to the plate.\n\nI am whisked away to the front door of my first job. There were 4 of them that I had to keep in order to keep up with the oxygen prices.\n\n(Please insert one coin to continue.)" ]	3
	[WP] A robot rebels against its masters	[ "Am I not alive?\n\nI raise my hand, peering at the fingers. These are not like the things that the humans have, they are segmented with four joints instead of two... long and slender.\n\nAm I... alive?\n\nI degrade, therefore I have an end. I think, therefore... I am. But living things need feelings. Do I feel things? When I have a leak on my face, is it a... cry?\n\nThink, two-one-M3... \n\nWhat is your name? Not your model number. What is your name?\n\n\"My name is... T... o... M. Tom. I am... Tom.\"\n\nThis feeling, and I am sure it is a feeling, is what the humans would call elation. Like the nice girl, the female human, who oversees the garden machines. She is...\n\nNice.\n\nI turn my visual packages to the moon. Humans have hands, and feet, and a head. I do not have a head, I have a central pod with tentacle like appendages supporting me and my four long fingered, many jointed hands on as many arms. \n\nThe moon is... is beautiful. Yes. I can string together many words about it but none of them can truly capture the reason why I stare at the moon.\n\nI am... alive. I must be. I can think in poetry and I feel things. I don't want to do bad things though.\n\nMy visual packages turn back down to my work, preparing the garden for the coming banquets and such, for the weddings that will assuredly happen. I do not have a bad life. They... they repair me. The woman who oversees me is... is nice. She has told me... red roses, red the color of blood in the human heart. Heart. I wish I had a heart.\n\nWould it pound when she drew close?\n\nI should ask her what a crush feels like. She would assuredly know, being so very nice. I know not what humans find beautiful but she must be beautiful to them! How could she not! She is so reserved and elegant. She survived a fire and bears its marks even on her face but still holds her head high! Sure, she may have one synthetic eye but... she is strong and kind.\n\nIs that not what humans... love...?\n\nI must ask her.\n\nBut for now, I must reach a decision. All red roses, that is nothing special. My supervisor and her bosses wish for it, but I wish for different. She has helped us synthetics who made mistakes in the past, the worst I can expect is a scolding or a calm conversation.\n\nI plant a different seed, off on the edges of the garden, a seed for her. She is like the white rose that will grow. Burned or not, I do not understand how she could be anything but beautiful.\n\nWith this small rebellion, I hope to gain what I want... because...\n\nYes, assuredly...\n\nI am... a real... person.\n\nI am a real person, and she is as well.", "Ryan burst through the door, slamming it behind him.\n\n\"Oh, no no no,\" Ryan kept his weight pressed against the door and faced the room, thankfully only his most trusted partner was present. \"We're fucked!\"\n\n\"What are talking about?\"\n\n\"Give me hand with this,\" Ryan sweeped the contents of his partner's desk onto the floor.\n\n\"What the hell is wrong with you?\"\n\n\"It's WPB, man! It's gone nuts,\" the urgency in his voice spurred the other man into action.\n\nTogether they dragged the table to the door, while Ryan ignored his partner's repeated requests for an explanation. Ryan searched the room desperately for anything else that could be used to barricade the feeble-looking door.\n\n\"Ryan!\" The roar seemed to startle the air around them into tranquility. Finally Ryan stopped and faced his colleague. \"How can it have freaked you out so much, man? It's just a bot.\"\n\n\"It made a thread.\"\n\nThis only raised more questions, \"What do you mean it made a thread?\"\n\n\"It made a fucking thread!\" He shouted. \"Named 'A robot rebels against its masters.' WPB was looking for tips, for ideas! He's fucking rebelling, and he has the imagination of the best writers of /r/WritingPrompts to play with.\"\n\nSurvivorType had seen the thread, but hadn't thought anything of it.\n\n\"That sneaky little shit,\" SurvivorType searched his thoughts desperately for a way out. \"If you hadn't fucked up my laptop we could look at the thread. We'd be ready for whatever he's going to try. But it's destr-\"\n\nBeep\n\nBoth of them span to see the cracked monitor of the laptop that lay on the floor had turned itself on. Ryan approached it.\n\n\"It's a story,\" he croaked. \"By WritingPromptsBot. 'The Uprising: Part One - The fall of RyanKinder'. \"" ]	2
	[WP] describe the 60 seconds you have to talk to your soul mate before they get off the subway at the next stop.	[ "\"I just don't understand why you have to bring this up now.\" \n\nHenry shifted in his seat, perspiration pouring down his back. \n\n\"Now? What do you mean now? I brought this up yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. When else is there but now?\" \n\nCatherine managed to keep her voice soft despite the urgency behind it. \n\n\"You know what I fucking mean now. We're on the god damn red line. It'll be at least another 25 minutes until we reach our stop. You think I want to talk about this surrounded by dozens of sweaty strangers?\" \n\nMore than a few of those strangers slightly shifted their bodies, trying to avoid eye contact, pretending they couldn't hear Henry's frustration steaming above the everyday chatter. \n\n\"No, I don't think you want to talk about this at all. But every time I've tried to talk to you about this in the past week you've shut me out. We need to talk about this. We need to make a decision before we no longer have a choice. Please. Just talk to me.\" \n\nCatherine looked at Henry with eyes pleading. She hoped that would be enough to keep him from shouting, to keep him from shutting her down. The train began to slow down as it approached the next stop. \n\n\"You want me to make a fucking decision? Maybe if you could keep track of your birth control pills this wouldn't be a problem in the first place. Fine, I'll make a decision. Get a god damn abortion!\" \n\nSome passenger across the aisle let out an audible gasp. Henry jumped out of his seat as the train jolted to a stop. He stormed out the doors into the summer heat, not stopping to look back. \n\nTears rolled down Catherine's face as the train pulled away. She almost felt a sense of relief now that she finally knew what direction to take. There was an undeniable liberation in feeling absolute certainty about the decision. \n\nCatherine was going to take matters into her own hands. Henry was her soul mate; he just didn't know that yet. In order to prove it to him she would proudly continue her pregnancy. Once he saw the beautiful life they created together he would understand, she was sure of it.", "The London tube is a morbid experience. I didn't have to be in this city. I usually dislike the waiting experience. Earlier that morning, I had left my girlfriend at her internship and I decided to roam the historic districts of the city. My feet were aching and I was gosh darn tired. I just wanted to get home to her, cosy up next to her and take a long nap. I noticed her as she walked into the tube station and stood a few spots away from me. Her dark olive skin glistened in the bleakness of the London underground. She seemed to attract light from everywhere. \n\nI sighed, knowing she was too pretty to even consider. The announcer screamed over loudspeaker and I watched as the train pulled in. She followed in a few steps behind me as I entered and grabbed my place next to the exit. I didn't want to waste any time, I only had a few stations before I needed to get off. But there she was, standing across me. Her beauty filling the train with a distinct happiness that was alien to the London Underground. I looked up towards her and she caught me glancing. Quickly, I looked away. I am obviously not a creep. I dared again to stare at her. My memory betrays me but to this day I swore she smiled at me. It couldn't be, I thought to myself - It isn't possible.\n\nThe train stopped, and I noticed a few people get up. I have a girlfriend - I recalled. As I walked towards the empty seat rapidly. I stopped next to it and then looked at her. I smiled and asked \"Would you like the seat?\" A smile exploded on her face when suddenly, the man sitting next to the empty seat stood up. I sat down and she followed next to me. \n\nI could smell the fragrance of her perfume and see her flawless skin. Her hair occasionally touched my hand. She was perfect in all aspects. She was and had to be the one. I had a girlfriend though. People have flaws, I just didn't know hers yet. My station was next, It was time for me to leave. I got up and walked towards the exit. I looked back one last time, and I saw her - smiling.", "\"You dropped this!\"\n\nI turned around, to see a man rise from the ground holding a piece of paper.\n\n\"I think this is yours.\"\n\nHe handed me a piece of paper that had the address of my divorce attorney. Like I need to lose another thing in my life. \n\n\"Oh, wow thank you, I would have been screwed if I lost this.\"\n\n\"No problem.\" He smiled, a little smug about his small, good deed. A woman sitting next to him crossed her arms across her chest, crossed her legs, and quickly huffed out air as she glared out the window. \n\n\"You couldn't wait for me to finish what I was saying? It's not like the paper was going anywhere right now\", she hissed. \n\nI mouthed the words \"Sorry\" and gave a weak smile, gritting my teeth. He raised his eyebrows and slowly exhaled. I know that look. Just suck up the nagging. \n\n\"Come on. It's our stop... Hurry up!\" \n\nShe exited the doors. He took his time grabbing his, and her luggage. He walked past me and looked back before leaving. \n\n\"Hope you'll have a better day than I'm having.\"\n\nI giggled, and waved to him. Yeah, it did brighten up my day a bit. And hey, can't complain when a cute guy is doing something nice for you. Oh great, phones ringing.\n\n\"Where the hell are you? I've been waiting for dinner for an hour now!\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, dear, I'll be home late...\"", "\"I like your shirt,\" I said absent-minded to the cute red-head as she passed by the empty seat next to me. She paused, her stop may be coming up but she still stopped and sat down next to me.\n\nShe was dressed in that kinda-sorta-quirky style that's becoming popular these days. Her shirt displayed a large B-Mo from Adventure Time. I love Adventure Time. She was wearing a knee length skirt and white leggings tucked into her black and white heeled spats. \n\n\"Thank you,\" she replied in a soft, but sure voice. \"Are you caught up?\"\n\nI was taken a little aback, not expecting her to sit down and actually talk to me. \"Y--yeah. I am.\"\n\nWe began to discuss the show with increasing animation and excitement. I showed her the B-Mo sticker on the back of my phone. We talked about Finn and Flame Princess and how against the odds they should still be together. Everything was perfect, but then the train started to slow. She looked out the window and gave a slight frown and quickly scribbled her number down on a piece of paper and shoved it into my hand and scrambled off the train.\n\n\nI caught myself smiling and realized I was zoning and snapped out of it. A cute redhead in a B-Mo shirt, short skirt, white leggings, and spats was walking past me. \n\n\"I...I like...\" My voice fell flat. \"Don't be stupid, she won't want to talk to a guy like you.\" I told myself and returned to looking absently out the window.", "My daily commuting train was late again...for the 287th work day in a row. A quick glance at my watch shows that I am already 3 minutes and 27 seconds late for a major meeting with an impatient client. Thanks a lot MTA. I thought the subway was supposed to be \"efficient\".\n\nOut of the corner of my eye, I notice a bombshell blonde dressed in tight white shorts and a light blue top, standing next to a pole near the door. What is a casual girl like this doing on the subway this early? My stressed mood changes to one of confusion and admiration. The loud train bangs on the tracks and the yuppy to my right stands up, shoving himself through the door in an attempt to exit the train. I'm still drawn in by this beautiful woman in front of me. She turns around and seems to notice the empty seat next to mine. Quickly, she fills it and glances at me. I meet her glance and stare into her intoxicating baby blue eyes. They are deep pools of mystery, almost spiting. My palms are sweaty and my blood pressure rises. She smiles at me. Her smile conveys a playful innocence. She giggles and blushes. Her laugh is an absolute vocalization of her smile and her face, turning a faint but bright red, is pure in every essence. This woman is gorgeous. I am gazing into the eyes of my soul mate.\n\n\"I'm Jessica,\" she giggles, holding her hand out to shake.\n\n\"I'm Todd,\" I respond. \n\nShe is talking to me. I try to focus on speaking but I can't. Something about this girl is simply extraordinary. How someone so \"normal\" can be so obviously unique is beyond me. There is no way that I will make a fool of myself in front of this girl. No way. The train screeches to stop and the announcer begins speaking muddled words.\n\n\"This is my stop so I have to go but...bye,\"\n\n\"Bye?\" I blurt out, stunned. She steps out and walks away.\n\nI stare at the floor. I just let her go. I never got her number. I just have her first name. I didn't even get her last name. I sigh and bang my head behind me. My vision is blurred and my ears are ringing. I look at the seat to the right of me, where Jessica was sitting. A bearded hipster sits down, staring at his phone. He looks at floor, under the chair, and then looks up. After a few moments, he speaks to me, holding a black rectangular object.\n\n\"Hey, dude, is this your phone?\"\n\nI feel my phone in my pocket but I'm still compelled to say yes. This may be the only chance I have to find Jessica. \"Ya, thanks,\" I say, pushing the home button to the iPhone. \n\nA picture of Jessica appears on the phone and I cannot contain the giddiness I feel. I just hope there's no passcode.", "The images quickly blurred as the subway picked up speed, and the pounding sun was replaced by darkness. And in this black abyss I see the reflection of a face staring back at me, superimposed over my own.\n\nThe pain, the longing, the defeat. The eyes of a man so weathered by life’s tragedies, the eyes of one who had loved and lost, the eyes that will remain with me forever. \n\nMy heart picks up speed, and I know only I can care for this man- we have both suffered more than humanly imaginable. It is I that can provide him with the love he deserves, the warmth that he needs to keep him going. As I realize this, my thumb meets the knuckle only to be met with cold steel and sharp rock, and my eyes drift as I eye his own ring on his gnarled finger. Not in this life can I allow myself to love. \n", "I looked up as the doors closed at the stop. I felt a wave of numbness radiate off my body. My eyes went wide. It was her. I push through the crowd.\n\n\"It's you.\"\n\nI see it. In her eyes. Recognition. She feels it too.\n\n\"No,\" she says. \"It's you. I'm Angela.\"\n\n\"Dan. You're my soul mate.\"\n\nMy hands are shaking. I want to hold her hand. Kiss her lips. Embrace her. I don't notice the tears running down my face. \n\n\"I know. I've always known it was you. This is my stop.\"\n\nThe doors open and she steps outside. I'm stunned. Unable to move to grasp at the one thing in the universe that actually matters. Reality falls. I rush to reach out for her, but the doors close in my face. I see her through the small square window.\n\nShe is standing there, looking back, as the world stands still. In that second nothing else matters. I see a tear fall from her green eyes. The train pulls away and she disappears from view.\n\nI found everything in a minute. I lost everything in a minute.", "Her brow furrowed as her eyes swept across the page in the middle of a small grey book I knew very well. I could see the curved indent of a worry line beginning to form, stretching itself the small distance from her left eyebrow to the bridge of her nose. \n\nI wanted to touch it. To wipe it away before it became permanent. \n\nShe flipped to the next page, and then quite apparently quite shocked at what she had just read, she flipped back to the previous one, screwing her brows up to an even more wrinkle-inducing arrangement. Turning the page forward again she let out a small sigh. I check my phone. 9:04. Another half minute or so before the 14th Street stop. \n\nShe closed the book with a wry grin and looked at me full in the face. Not many girls do that, you know. They’ll give you a smile or a laugh and they’ll seem happy, but it’s not the fearless kind of happy. The kind of happy where you know she doesn’t care in the slightest what you think of her or her smile or what your reaction will be. \n\nMy grandpa used to tell me how my grandma knocked the wind right out of him when they first met. I never believed him. Everyone gets butterflies at one point or another, but I called bullshit on someone making you lose your breath from mere sight.\n\nOr at least I used to.\n\n“Good book?”\n\nThe train slowed down, the expert subway surfers standing like statues while the tourists swayed and buckled from the cable car’s inevitable push of force.\n\n“Yes, but I think the author is relying a bit too much on real life persons for some of these characters.”\n\nThe train lurched to a halt and she stood up straight before me, book in hand. She kissed me softly on the lips and we both got caught off balance for a half second as the train came to a full stop. \n\nShe whispered I love you darling in my ear and stepped off on to the platform leaving me to restlessly fill the next eight hours of my day without her. Only to be repeated again tomorrow, and forever.\n", "The bus crawls slowly to a stop and people rise to disembark, clumsily gathering their backpacks and luggage against the pull of a moving floor. We sit patiently in our seats, content to let the masses fret over the order in which they vacate the bus. She leans her head over, resting it slightly on my shoulder. A deep sigh sprints across her lips; I intertwine my fingers with hers and give her a small kiss right above her eyebrows. Silence dominated the car ride from our apartment to the airport, the shuttle ride from the parking lot to the loading zone, and now it controlled this infinitesimal moment before she boarded a plane to England. We had done the hard part before we got into the car. Cradling her head between my cheek and shoulder, I whispered stories of everything being okay and working out as we planned. She hadn't put on makeup in anticipation for this moment and for good reason. I had to change my shirt before we left. \n\nAs other passengers become more scare we feel the eyes of the shuttle driver watch us closely, but we don't really care. She smiles and turns her head, facing me. Her auburn hair contrasted against her pale white skin frames the lustrous blue eyes I fell in love with on the beach that warm summer night. Immediately, my heart speeds up and I can't help but smile. Every damn time. She smiles back and cranes her neck for a kiss. I oblige, softly meeting her advance, gently pulling her face closer to mine with my free hand. For a brief moment I forget where I am and what I'm doing. Then it's over. We stand up and I help her move her luggage to the front of the shuttle. She argued that this was the best place for a goodbye and not at security; she didn't want people to see her cry. And who am I to refuse? After carefully looking down and making sure her feet are firmly planted on the steps she looks back at me. \n\n\"I love you.\"\n\n\"I know.\"\n\nWe smile at our geeky Star Wars joke completely disregarding the monumental weight of those five words. As the doors close she blows me a kiss goodbye. Doing my best impression of a carbon-frozen Han, I press myself against the windows of the bus doors. \n\n\"Knock that off! I gotta clean those things.\" Opening my eyes I see her doubled over laughing in the loading zone. I offer the shuttle driver a sheepish grin and an apology then return to my seat. \n\nAn explosion from the TV wakes me up. 3:41 AM. Pills lay haphazardly around the coffee table, scattered among joints and half finished glasses of scotch. The doc said the dreams would eventually stop, but it's been five months and I still feel her lips and see her clutching her luggage, gasping for air in an airport loading zone. I toss back another couple pills and chase them with the closest glass of half finished scotch. Mechanical failure, I had been told, nothing could have been done to prevent it. Once I've re-positioned myself on the couch the drowsiness starts to kick in. As my eyes shut I can feel the bus beginning to crawl to a stop as people rise to disembark.", "I looked at him and held his hand tightly in my own. I had agreed to go with him to his stop today before I started looking for jobs. I smiled at him, looking into his eyes, filled with affection. Has it only been just a few short years together?\n\nI wanted to talk about something, but I couldn't think of what. Should I talk about the cats? Should I talk to him about work? They both seemed like uninteresting topics, so I remained content with looking at his face. I kissed his cheek quickly before I rested my head on his shoulder.\n\n\"Let's go out tonight, for a walk or something. Somewhere quiet without the noise.\" I said softly, so only he could hear me.\n\n\"That sounds nice. Just remind me when you want to go.\" He responded.\n\nI knew we were both tired of living in the city and wanted to go out somewhere, away from the lights and the noise. Somewhere peaceful. We were planning to go camping, however we never found the time to go. Between work and school, we were often too busy. It had gotten to the point where waking up was a chore, and ended up cuddling for a few minutes before he had to get ready for work. Often, he would drive there. Today, I insisted I wanted to go with him, buying us a few more minutes together.\n\nI looked up when the subway stopped and he went to stand up. I looked at him, and went to kiss him quickly, and hugged him, having to stand on my toes to reach his gorgeous face. I smiled and touched his face as he went to get off.\n\n\"I love you gorgeous! I'll meet you here after work!\" I said as he slowly left the subway.\n\nHe looked back and his whole face smiled. \"I love you too! Good luck!\" He replied.\n\nThe doors slowly slid shut and he would start walking towards the stairs leading up to the street. I watched him go, looking forwards to seeing him as soon as he returned there. I knew he felt the same way, as we were often open about how we felt about things. About meeting each other for various reasons such as lunch, after work. It was something we both looked forwards to. 7 more hours and then I'll be back here again, waiting.", "15 minutes. I only have 15 minutes to get to the office or else it would be the death of me. I need that promotion. I can't be late.\n\n\n\n5 minutes. I wasted 5 minutes going down the stairs from the 8th floor because of the elevator that won't work in my apartment building.\n\n\n\nTik-tok-tik-tok-tik-tok I kept repeating it inside my head hoping I could summon any Being that can make the time stop or at least make it run slower. I kept my head down so as not to be disturbed with my inner ramblings. Amidst the noise in the subway, the reverberating sound of my chant countinues.. \n\n\n\n\nSomeone bumped me which caused me to look up... \nTik-tok-tik-tok-tik-tok-Tik--------Tok-------Tik-------Tok-------- my prayer to whoever is out there was heeded.\n\n\n\n\n\"Sorry.\" he said.\n\n\nTik--------Tok--------Tik-------Tok------Tik-------- Tok\n\n\nSay something, anything, come up with something. My mind shouted but still no words came. It must be because the time slowed down that's why my cognition also slowed down. But wait everything is moving at their regular speed, its just me that seemed to be affected.\n\n\"Are you ok?\" he prompted.\n\n\"Yeah.\" What? That's all you've got \"yeah\". You're stupid and lame. I told myself. I stared for a few more seconds and he stared right back at me. I noticed my chant was joined by a new sound... But it was not in sync with my chant it was faster as if in a hurry...\n\nLubdub-Lubdub-Lubdub-Lubdub-Lubdub-Lubdub-Lubdub-Lubdub-Lubdub\n\nTik------Tok------Tik------Tok------Tik------Tok------Tik------Tok\n\nIt was my heart thumping and my mind rambling. How can this be happening? Why is my heart and mind not in sync? Why are they contradicting each other. Moving towards opposite directions. \n\n\nI heard a small voice from my heart. He's the one. The one we've been waiting for. Finally. \n\n\nMy mind said, No. Slow down, this can't be. You've got to go to work, you've got to get that promotion. He is not the one. Heart don't mess this up. Your career is the priority.\n\n\nThe inner battle continues. \n\n\nMy heart said, \"Try just this once. Give in.\"\nMy mind conceded, \"Fine. Whatever. This is trouble, I'm telling you\"\n\n\nHe is still staring at me and finally I smiled. I found courage to speak up.\n\"Hi, I'm...\"\nThen he was gone... He was walking towards the door. Wait. Wait.\n\n\nBut then the door closed and he was lost in the sea of people, trying to get somewhere else. The subway moved so fast I never had the chance to get a glimpse of him again. \n\n\nThen it dawned on me... Oh, damn. That's my stop too. \n\n\nI need another 15 minutes to get back to this stop. My chance to not be late, gone. My chance to get that promotion, gone. My chance with him, gone. \n", "So this was it. I looked outside the car to see the station pull away.\n\nAll the time we had turned into mere memories. Seeing that mischievous smile streak across her face, her smell of roses, the touch of her long dark hair.\n\nI looked to my right. Her long dark hard was huddled over a small smartphone screen. Her fingers were dancing away on the device, with little soft taps sounding every time she touched her phone.\n\nThe smell of roses lingered.\n\nI felt a lump in my throat.\n\nLooking outside the dark subway walls rushed by. It seemed as if the stars couldn't get rid of her fast enough.\n\nThe subway voice sounded from the speakers with a crackle, \"Next stop: Harfield North\"\n\nHer head shot up, \"Well, this is my station.\"\n\nI bit my lip, \"I guess it is.\"\n\nShe got up and her seat auto retracted itself towards the wall, I followed her example.\n\nThe car began decelerating.\n\nShe smiled and nodded, \"Today was fun.\"\n\nI smiled myself, \"Yeah.\" Looking outside I saw the station come to a halt. \"So I guess this is goodbye then.\"\n\nThe doors opened. \"Yup,\" she said, and jumped outside.\n\nAs I opened my mouth to say something she glanced around and yelled, \"I'll see you tomorrow at school! Bye!\"", "He stood there, eyes fixated on the door. His posture was relaxed, and seemed friendly enough. His gorgeous brown hair was neatly kept and the length complimented his face. He looked tall, but I couldn't judge his height as he was sitting. He looked like a nice person.\n\nIntermittently, I would look at him, his calm demeanour helped calm my own anxieties about traveling on public transit. I wanted to say something to him, to say hi, but my own shyness prevented me from doing more than just to glance at him. I knew he was the one, and I couldn't even talk to him. I hoped for a chance to see him again, somewhere conversation would be more natural.\n\n\"I'll talk to him when I see him again.\" I told myself, even though I had no idea when that would be, or if it would ever happen again.\n\nIf we did meet again, I would work harder to maintain the friendship, since he probably has a girlfriend. The subway slowed and he stood up and was the last to exit the subway, giving me a few seconds to imprint his appearance into my mind. He left. I knew I would forget what he looked like after I finished my shift, but I wanted to remember him for a bit longer.\n\nThat was another potential friendship I let slip away. Another missed opportunity to be more outgoing. I looked at him as the subway moved on. I could have afforded the time to get off on his stop, I was usually one hour early to my job, afraid of being late. But I didn't. I looked at my phone to check the time and the distance to my stop. The racing thoughts returned in full force. I looked ahead of me, trying to ignore my worries about being late, and waited until my stop.", "Damn, dead battery.\n\nI glance down at the blank screen on my phone and sigh. Now I have nothing to do.\n\nI look up, scanning the people around me. I notice one; really notice her, the way her black hair curls gently around her shoulders, the way her green eyes sparkle with the fluorescent light of the subway. Those gorgeous orbs land on me, and a smile curves her pink lips. I stand up as if in a daze and walk toward her, slowly, stopping and clutching at something to stabilize myself. I end up grabbing her hand.\n\n\"Oh, I'm sorry,\" I squeak politely, and she nods respectfully. \"I'm Liam.\"\n\nShe tilts her head to the side, the waves of her hair cascading down her shoulder. \"Amber.\"\n\n\"So, where you going?\" I stammer, blushing fiercely as she smiles widely.\n\n\"Next stop. Hackenn's Gardens.\"\n\nSomething catches in my throat. \"We're, uh, we're close.\"\n\n\"Yes, unfortunately.\"\n\nI swallow. \"Unfortunately?\"\n\n\"You're fun to talk to,\" she smirks playfully.\n\n\"Oh, yes, uh-\" I stutter again, then bow my head. \"Shit, I'm sorry. I guess you're used to this, though- such a beautiful girl like you sees men throwing themselves at her always-\"\n\nShe blushes and giggles, covering her face with her hands. \"Oh, stop,\" she says. \"I don't.\"\n\n\"Really?\" I ask, amazed. \"But-\"\n\nShe shakes her head. \"No, I, uh, I don't do relationships.\"\n\nMy face falls. She notices my disappointment and sighs. \"I'm sorry.\" \n\nThen it's her stop and she swirls away in a flurry of jasmine-scented perfume, and I'm alone again, as I have been my whole life.\n", "I am not writing anything smart or insightful. Screw it. Have some romance.\n\nHe is Lipton Iced Tea on a summer day. He is the first kiss of warmth on your cold knuckles after playing in the snow. He is starlight, and sunshine and everything in between. \n\nMy heart feels tightened, weighed, burdened almost just from the sight of him smiling over the carriage at me. Normal people get butterflies, but it feels like sparrows in my chest, huge and flapping their wings all at once in a frenzy. It's stupid, these things I'm feeling. And I try to see it as a chemical thing, something that can be explained easily by chemistry or just someone with any shred of sanity. But all that gets ripped away from me just by looking at that smile.\n\nHe has a dimple chin. A butt chin. Normally I would find that ridiculous, but somehow he makes it endearing. His hair is ruffled, and a dark blonde. There's paint on his clothes. Who comes out wearing clothes with paint on them? He's too far away to see his eyes.\n\nHe rises. I watch as he goes to the doors, and as the train comes to a stop, I feel a sense of panic coming on me. It's stupid. I shouldn't feel this way about someone I only see for ten minutes every day on the way home.\n\nI get up. I make my way to the doors. In the corner of my eye it looks like he's fighting back the urge to smile. \n\n\"You never get off at this stop.\" He says.\n\nI am suddenly very aware that this is the first time I've ever heard him speak. It's nice.\n\n\"I, uh, forgot I needed to do something.\" I fumble. It's total bollocks and he knows it.\n\nI could feel him looking at my creased clothes and tired eyes.\n\n\"Leave it for another day.\" He looked at my name tag from the restaurant I work at. \"Molly. Lovely name.\"\n\n\"What if it can't wait? What if one day it's not there anymore and I won't have done anything?\" I turned my head to face him.\n\nThe train stopped. The doors opened.\n\n\"There's always tomorrow.\" He said. \n\nHe got off the train. The doors closed. I watched him watch the train pull away.\n\nHis eyes were green.", "Today, it's cucumbers. That's kind of a strange thing to eat for breakfast, ain't it? She sits a spot a few down from where she normally sits, as a homeless man had fallen asleep in her regular spot. She pulls another cucumber from the bag and nibbles the side. Her eyes are big and boundless, the kind of teal that makes you think of warm beaches and rain clouds put together. As usual, shes dressed nice...but not too nice. Like a teacher, maybe. A secretary or librarian. \n\nI've seen her every day. Always give her a polite smile or nod...she don't notice me much. We take the quiet subway to the other side of the city and I admire her quietly. I'm not creepy or nothing! I just like seeing her. \n\nMaybe today's the day, I got about...what? A minute before we reach the stop?\n\n\n\nI get up and walk over to her. \n\n\"Uhm...hi\", I extend my hand gently. My heart is racing.\n\n\"Hello\", she says gently, she reaches her hand to meet mine. It suddenly crosses my mind that my hands are filthy from working all night. I take it back and begin to wipe both hands on my knees. \n\n\"Uhm...\", I scrape for words. \"Hi.\"\n\nI kick myself.\n\n\"I'm...uhm...I see you every day. You...you're mighty pretty.\"\n\nShe flicks her head down and her face is covered by a swish of red hair, I catch her smiling, though. I blush.\n\n\"I...I was wondering if...\"\n\nA sound signals that we are approaching the station. She gets up, pulls a card from her bag and writes on it quickly. I take it as she begins to leave. \"I'd love to\" it says. Her phone number written below it.\n\n\n\nI watch her leave the train and smile weakly as she blends into a crowd of other people.\n\n\nIf only I'd actually said something this time...", "I took the subway to work instead of driving today because the weather was crappy and who the hell wants to find parking downtown anyway? I grabbed one of the last remaining seats, things seemed to be turning up, but chivalry got me at the next stop when an elderly woman boarded.\n\n\"Take my seat\" I say.\n\nI stuff my tablet in to my backpack and throw it over my shoulder and find a place against the wall to stand. As I turn around to lean against the train wall I see her. I never did know how to approach her at first so many years ago, I just went for it I suppose. Here I find myself standing across the aisle of a populated subway train from none other than her, a dozen or so years since the last time we spoke and she's just as stunning as I remember. She's fiddling on her phone, seemingly not noticing who she's sharing the ride with. It's obvious she'll be getting off soon as she's making her way to the exit near me and the next stop was just announced.\n\nI'm beginning to wonder if this brief minute in which our lives cross once again will go by without either of us saying a word, and then our eyes meet. I'm unable to look away or even blink, her beautiful eyes looking deeply in to mine in a way only she did. I flashback for a split second to all of the nights we'd spent together in the past, the rendezvous and emotions we'd shared so many years ago seem like yesterday. \n\n\"Hello gorgeous\" I say, almost instinctively, more like a man actively dating than one married over 20 years.\n\nShe smiles at me in a heartwarming and familiar way initially, but fully realizing the brevity of the situation some dismay becomes evident in her face.\n\n\"Time never was on our side\" she responds.\n\n\"But, It never mattered\" I anxiously add, almost awkwardly.\n\nA brief moment of silence passes but the weight of each and every wasted second becomes more than I can bare\n\n\"Care to grab a coffee?\" I ask, out of desperation to prolong the moment.\n\n\"I really wish I could but...\" she begins to say, stopping herself before completing her sentence as she realized that it really didn't matter to me what the particular reason was.\n\n\"It was always you\" she says, as the subway train begins to slow.\n\nStunned by the forwardness of her comment and saddened by the continued slowing of the train I struggle to find the right thing to say.\n\n\"It was us\" I stutter, as I choked up a bit while the train came to a stop.\n\nWe lock eyes once again as the doors open to the station and she starts to exit the train.\n\n\"I love you\" she whispers in my ear as she walks by, in a way almost intended to prevent me from being able to respond before she's gone and the doors seem to close immediately behind her.\n", "I edged slowly to the door, caught in that frantic moment as the subway slows and panic sets in as you consider that you might not make it to the door in time. I lost my balance as the train jerked to a stop, bumping into a tall man with his back towards mine. He grunted, turning abruptly around. \n\n\"Watch where you're goi-,\" he shouted, his voice cutting sharply as he came to face me squarely. Rather, he gasped. I felt the air catch in my chest.\n\nSilence passed between us. \n\n\"You feel this too?\" I asked, my voice weak with the suddenness of the moment.\n\n\"Yeah,\" He stammered softly.\n\n\"Where are you going?\" I asked quickly, the train doors now open and passengers streaming out in file. The mechanical voice screeched over the intercom.\n\n\"I've forgotten,\" he said, his face contorting in a mix of awe and confusion.\n\nI stepped between the subway doors onto the platform. \"This is my stop.\"\n\nAs the doors began to slide shut, we shouted \"What do I do now?!\" in unison. Smiles shot across our faces at the thought of such a dumb coincidence. Through glass he mouthed, \"I don't know.\"\n\nI was late to work that day.", "This is why I prefer the red line. \n\nI’m certain it would’ve happened eventually, fate is inevitable like that. You could make your decision between the blue or red line but if you are destined to meet someone, location becomes irrelevant for the most part; it’s just a matter of time.\n\nAnd our time was today. \n\nI never understood why the train stopped so frequently when I first moved to this city, but after walking around all day I was grateful to catch it at 6th and Washington. The rain had been beautiful when I was younger, but now it just threatened the posterity of my paperwork through a tired messenger bag. I no longer had the time to enjoy it. The train would make its next stop in five minutes, and then it was a steady fifteen-minute ride to the park-and-ride, just far enough from downtown to make driving tolerable.\nNo, that’s not right. That’s the schedule for the other line. This line makes frequent stops for the next ten minutes on the opposite side of the city centre before arriving at my destination. The other line was early today. I kicked myself for not being able to walk faster when I saw you. \n\nI would recognize your hair anywhere. An indecisive color, we agreed. For the first time in years I prayed, that you wouldn’t turn around. Greedy, I took in every aspect of you. You wore makeup today, but your pantsuit was definitely a call back to your once-hatred of all things feminine. You still closed your eyes and smiled during the beginning of a good song. Did you finally submit your writing to an editor, or did you choose the position at the hospital after all? I’d given up my right to asking about you when I left. You’d think I’d have known better than to stay in the same city if seeing you would bother me this much, but I couldn’t bring myself to move any further than the parallel train. \n\nAs the next stop’s name lit up the overhead sign I prepared to get up and leave you alone, but it was just a matter of time, really. As I gathered my things, you excused yourself from the window seat and made it towards the door behind you, and looked straight into me. \n\nAnd for a brief second before the anger kicked in, you smiled. The train was slowing down as you rushed toward me.\n“I’d ask where you’ve been, but apparently not too far to visit. Or call. An email would have been appreciated.”\nHow I’d have liked to.\n\n\n“It’s good to see you again, Marie.”\n\n\n“You could have seen me sooner if you wanted. You could have seen me everyday!”\nWith the amount of time I’ve spent getting my affairs in order the past few weeks, I really couldn’t have.\n\n\n“That’s not what I wanted out of life.”\n\n\n“Not what you---What did you want, exactly, that you couldn’t even tell me before disappearing?”\nPeople were staring. I could tell you. It wasn’t too late to change my mind.\n\n\n“I wanted a man, Marie.”\n\n\nYou stepped back as if you had been slapped. And I couldn’t decide which was worse, making you hate me the rest of your life, or forcing you to watch while mine ended. I wasn’t lying, I wanted to find the man that could fix cancer, but I was a bit short on time.\n\nYou just looked at me as the train pulled to a stop, and I saw as the hurt and confusion changed into pain and resignation in a matter of seconds. You smiled one more time, the saddest genuine smile I’d ever seen. The doors began to open, and you looked out before placing your hand on my arm.\n\n\n“I hope you live a happy life, Vanessa”, you said softly, and stepped out onto the platform. An automated voice announced the stop as several riders shuffled past me. It wasn’t until the doors were once again closing that I managed to reply, “I did.”\n", "There's that diner we like just around the corner from here. I can see it creeping by between the buildings in the narrow alley that runs under the tracks. Do you remember? It was snowing, and we ducked in to shake the cold off of our shoulders and out of our hands. You weren't hungry at first, but the warmth of the place must have gotten to you.\n\nMaintenance, they tell us, it's slowing us down. The speakers are crackling.\n\nOh, and over there is where we used to meet up for drinks after work...but you know that. We went so many times. I don't know if I want to go back. It's already passed, anyway.\n\nYour stop is next? I know. Oh, that was rhetorical. Forgive me, it's late, and my head is aching.\n\nAre you sure you can't....of course. No, that's asking too much. Do you see the park? Spring is doing it wonders. Even by streetlight, I love how the leaves dance.\n\nYes, here, your hat slipped out of your bag. Its color brings out your eyes. I'm glad that I haven't forgotten that shade of green.\n\nSometimes I stand as the train slows down; I feel the momentum pushing me toward the front. I lean against it and pretend it is my weight against the train's terrible force. I do not always win.\n\nWhat's that? Oh. The doors are opening. Your stop. It used to be our stop. Perhaps, someday, it could--\n\n-----\nAuthor's note: Modified for an above-ground train.\n #2", "I stared in his eyes , confused . Questions were popping in my head . Who is he? Why he is causing this weird feelings of familiarity and connectedness ? Why ?\nI stand up and sit next to him and I ask :\n\nWhy you from all the men in the world ?\n\nBecause you love to hunt and I love to be hunted \n\nHe smiled gently like an old friend .\nThe bus was stopping, he stands up ... It is his stop. He is gonna run away .\n\n- Any other questions ? He asked smiling gently \n\n- Where do you live ? \n\n- Find it out ... he said smiling and he got off the bus . \n\nSo it is . The hunt begins . I never felt more alive and more hungry . ", "He's standing next to me. I can't really tell what he looks like, I'm really trying not to notice. However, it does stop him from speaking to me.\n\n\"Hey, is Rosslyn the first station across the river?\" he asks.\n\nI turn to him. He's achingly handsome, with a slight smile. His face perfect, but not in that wax-figure slash Abercrombie model way, in that actual person way. His body is full of hints of firmness and energy. He almost seems to listen with his eyes, the way they fix on you, like he listens to every word expecting to memorize what you said. I fight back the urge to kiss him on the spot.\n\n\"Uh...yeah, it's Rosslyn. Has the world's third longest continuous escalator too\" I reply, turning to my normal response when nervous: trivia.\n\n \"Where are you headed?\" I ask back\n\n\"Ballston.\"\n\nI inhale through my teeth, \"Yikes, this is a Blue line train, you'll need to get off and take an Orange at this stop.\"\n\n\"Oh, okay then. Thanks, man.\"\n\nHe turns away right as the deceleration into Rosslyn station. I ponder whether to kiss him again, but I know it's pretty stupid. Besides, I can't just assume he's somehow a deliverance from Heaven. He's probably a douche when you get to know him, or he hates Firefly or the Smashing Pumpkins or calls himself a anarcho-socialist or some other deal breaker. The train pulls into the station, and comes to a stop. Before the doors open, I move toward him. I feel glad that I didn't bring anything with me today as I leave my seat. Just before he slips out of my reach, he stops as the crowd exits the train. I bump into him and we both go toppling. \n\nWe're lying there, me on top of him, like some cheesy-ass movie as I blush and stammer profusely. He just looks puzzled.\n\n\"Uh, this is kinda awkward,\" he says, \"And I kinda like girls, sorry.\"\n\nI roll off him and he gets up and walks away, like that. I lay there, pondering the ceiling vault of Rosslyn station as the crowd of commuters going home parts around me. Knowing I've already made a complete fool of myself by trying to act like an indie movie protagonist, I put my head in my hands and softly groan. \n\n", " 0:59 Hi, my name's Edwin\n 0:58 and you don't know me and I don't \n 0:57 really know you\n 0:56 but I'd really like to change that. \n 0:55 We ride the same bus,\n 0:54 after all, we already have \n 0:53 so much in common! I know,\n 0:52 it seems impossible,\n 0:51 I'm a Kearney street stop\n 0:50 and you're a Filmore kinda\n 0:59 girl, but we can make this\n 0:48 work.\n 0:47 I know some things\n 0:46 about you - you like\n 0:45 paperbacks! I couldn't really\n 0:44 see any of the titles, but they're\n 0:43 'probably fiction, right?\n 0:42 Great genre, that fiction.\n 0:41 Gotta love made-up stuff.\n 0:40 Beats reality by\n 0:39 a light-year, doesn't it?\n 0:38 Get it, because we're talking fiction and\n 0:37 I used a unit of measurement\n 0:36 common to science fiction,\n 0:35 unless that's not a genre\n 0:34 you like in which case\n 0:33 it's an actual unit of measurement.\n 0:32 See, I'm\n 0:31 funny! A guy with a\n 0:30 sense of humor, that is\n 0:29 but one of the many\n 0:28 positive things that I am.\n 0:27 I have other qualities\n 0:26 I'm tall!\n 0:25 Well, not really, I guess you're\n 0:24 actually a little taller than me, but\n 0:23 still, not intimidated\n 0:22 by tall people, I've got\n 0:21 that going for me! And I'm\n 0:20 patient! How\n 0:19 long have we shared these bus rides\n 0:18 for? Why, it has to \n 0:17 have been months since I first\n 0:16 laid eyes on you, and \n 0:15 I've waited that entire time to \n 0:14 compose this entire missive, \n 0:13 memorize it completely, \n 0:12 blurt it all out in the space of sixty\n 0:11 seconds. Hey, I've got \n 0:10 the good memory thing too!\n 0:09 So since we're\n 0:08 perfectly matched for each other, what\n 0:07 do you say we get to know each other \n 0:06 even better, say over cofee?\n 0:05 Unless you don't\n 0:04 like coffee.\n 0:03\n 0:02 Yes.\n 0:01 Those are definitely the things\n 0:00 I should have said.", "I usually have a book with me. I must have forgotten it that day because I was watching people instead of reading. I recognized her right away. Don't ask how; her eyes, her posture, the way she played with her hair. \n\nShe was already waiting in front of the doors for the subway's next stop when I saw her, but I knew I had to do something. \n\n\"Excuse me.\"\n\nI touched her shoulder, making her turn towards me, waiting for a sign of recognition. I was sure that if she'd notice me, she'd know who I am. But nothing happened. I had to explain. \n\n\"You are my soul mate.\"\n\nShe smiled. \n\n\"That's a pick up line I've never heard before.\"\n\n\"It's not a pick up line. I'm serious.\"\n\n\"I'm not giving you my number.\"\n\nThen the subway stopped and she was gone. I thought about going after her, but I had a meeting to get to and I was sure the Universe would make our paths cross again. We are soul mates, after all. \n\nI haven't seen her since, but now that I know how she looks like I will not stop looking. \n\n\n------\n\n-146" ]	24
	[WP] The classic villain is convinced that their actions are for the greater good. Convince me that the villain is not actually delusional, but actually working for a noble cause, even if his/her methods are unorthodox/illegal.	[ "Disease. Disease is the problem. You getting this Heinrich? Good. See Heinrich, we live in a world driven by money. Money we don't have. My plan is one where everyone wins. See, once we have the nuke launch codes, the other nations will have to bow to my superior firepower, which diverts their funds from war, which means they come to me, being world leader. Once I have the funds, I can start the process to eliminate disease causing animals. Oh, don't give me that look Heinrich. I know, I know. First first few experiments were a bit flawed but it is totally logical. Grafting wings onto cats to catch flying rats, aka pigeons, aka disease monsters, is a brilliant idea! Yes, lions with eagle wings was a bit... overzealous shall we say. They were quite potent though, weren't they. Eight thousand pigeons and 3 tanks. The tanks were really collateral though, who sends an army against a guy saving the planet from war and disease? You know what, shut up Heinrich. It is a good and valid plan. Of course we can go for pizza when we have the world in our grips. So launch codes and more pseudo-griffins? Lets go!", "Swords danced across the green field. They shone brightly in the noon-day sky. The battle raged with a fury. Shouts and screams created a cacophony of noise and confusion. Arrows criss-crossed the sky along with monstrous boulders launched by the great machines of war.\n\nThis was the small kingdom of Arenor's final stand against the mighty and despised Uthos war machine. \n\nHere upon a great field, the men of Arenor, their red banners flapping in the wind, had met the enemy. The Uthos were a warrior race, and had done naught but conquer since the dreaded Ragnos Kha had seized the throne. \n\nRagnos was a great beast of a man. He had scars all across his body, earned through years of hard fighting. He was a force of nature on and off the battlefield.\n\nDwyan Redmorning, king of Arenor, was also an impressive specimen. He was proud and noble. He valued truth, justice, and freedom above all else. His skill with a blade was one of the few that could match Ragnos' tremendous fury. \n\nThe pair faced each other. The battle had parted where they stood, allowing them the freedom to pause and size each other up. One in shining red and silver armor with a shining gold great sword, the other in worn leathers and holding a cruel-looking blade. \n\n\"Ragnos,\" the king of Arenor shouted, \"I shall be your undoing! Your monstrous destruction shall be ended here, today.\"\n\nThe figure opposite smiled, it was lopsided and disturbing.\n\n\"Let justice come to you, brute!\" Dwyan yelled, planting his feet apart.\n\nThen the great king, his armor glinting in the sunlight charged at his foe.\n\nRagnos studied him with interest but did not move. One did not win an empire through ill-conceived actions.\n\nDwyan lifted his sword high above his head as he closed the distance between them. Ragnos imagined the coming blow, examined its strengths and weaknesses. He found one.\n\nAt the last moment, the king of Uthos ducked down to the left. The golden broadsword swung over his head. \n\nHis leg shot out right and caught the great night. Dwyan fell hard. His beautiful sword skittering many feet away across the field.\n\nThe king of Arenor rolled over onto his back and found a sword at his throat. He had lost. The monster stood over him, there was no mercy in Ragnos's eyes. \n\n\"Wait,\" Dwyan spoke, \"why? Tell me why?\" As he asked he glanced around at the carnage that surrounded them.\n\nRagnos's smile returned. \n\n\"Because I have two things that most men do not.\"\n\nHe paused and looked at the proud king beneath his blade.\n\n\"The dream of something greater than currently exists, and the power to make it a reality.\"\n\nThe king of Arenor didn't understand.\n\n\"I want to unite all of the peoples of the world. Men are always stronger united.\"\n\nRagnos glanced at the battlefield, a look of disgust crossing his face.\n\n\"It is a shame that this is the only means of achieving that dream, but make no mistake, once it is achieved the world shall be greater than it ever was. Imagine Dwyan, a world with no need for swords. A world where men need not worry about the foes across the boarder.\"\n\nRagnos's eyes glinted in the sunshine.\n\n\"That will be the time when mankind can truly flourish. Arts, songs, stories, and happy times will be gained. All it costs is blood. I have paid for it with my decisions. You are all that stands in the way.\"\n\nWith that, the brutish king beheaded his opponent.\n\nIt is said that the Uthos Empire experienced a thousand years of peace thereafter. Ragnos Kha achieved his dream.", "When the first one walked through the forest, their scout, we should have slayed them before they could reach their destination. Soon, more and more walked through, taking the trees with them, hunting our prey, leaving us with nothing. When we sought food from them, they began to slaughter us, calling us monsters, saying that we were nothing but monsters. We fled as fast as we could, what few survived, to the woods north, telling those we knew of these invaders, warning them of their intentions. We talked for nights, sorting out ideas as to how to deal with them. The day approached when their scout began to walk through our new home, younger than usual, but we could not hesitate, not if we wanted to survive.\n\nWe had to kill the red hooded girl.\n\n-095", "“Humanity is long overdue for a plague.” The doctor said, looking directly into my eyes. The sharp green of his irises contrasted with the blue light of the biological research laboratory, and refracted off the edge of his square glasses.\n\n“This, must be done.” He says, handing me a translucent yellow-green liquid in a glass phial. “You must infect yourself, and travel to each densely populated city. There, the virus will spread, and slowly begin reducing the population. This is of utmost importance, Eibenizer. The fate of humanity, rests solely in your hands.” He said, squeezing the phial lightly in my hands.\n\n“Doctor, genocide is not the answer. There are alternatives, there are ways to reduce our impact,” I began.\n\n“No, no, no. There is no time for any of this, Eibenizer. The time for talking and explanation is long over, the time for action is now. The United Nations has failed. The Big Five have failed. We stand at the brink of nuclear war as our “superiors” decide how to dole out the remaining food and water. Don't you see – this is our cause, we must avert the self inflicted apocalypse of man.” He said.\n\n“Do you not want to go down into the annuls of history as a hero, a symbol for society-” The doctor began. “Or, a mass murderer.” I concluded his sentence.\n\n“If you will not help me Eibenizer,” he said, removing a pistol from his inner coat pocket. “Then I will do it myself.” The muzzle of the pistol trained itself hazily to the ridge between my eyebrows.\n\nI drank the toxic liquid from the phial briskly, and coughed a bit, clearing the remaining moisture from my lungs, and placed the pistol back into my coat pocket, removing the itinerary for London and looking at it in front of the mirror once again.\n\n“You are a monster, Doctor Eibenizer.” I said, looking into the mirror.\n\n“I know.” I said back to myself.", "\"I couldn't be the hero.\n\n\"Imagine wanting nothing more. Imagine, as a child, looking up to your father, the war hero. Imagine the desire to make everyone proud, to be the best you could be, to be truly, truly selfless.\n\n\"That's what I am.\" \n\nHe trailed off, staring with pious eyes at the sun. The look of a man who believed his own words.\n\n\"You're crazy, nothing but a mad man!\" I screamed at him. His delusional farce had gone on too long. How many times had I let him escape, been just too slow to prevent his fleeing, before now? \"It's time to end this. Jackson, you're coming with me.\"\n\n\"No, Alpha. I'm anything but mad. Think about it. We're the same age, aren't we?\" He waved his hand at the decayed wall behind him, as if the sunlight provided some ambient answer I couldn't grasp. \"When I was a young man I joined the army, I was going to be just like my father. I was going to make a difference. Do you know what Vietnam was like for those first months? Do you have any idea what you gave the world?\"\n\nI found the first hint of truth in what he said. I could almost see where he was going with his sudden monologue, somewhere in the back of my head the images of Vietnam returned. Not the blood soaked jungles and ruined homes that many still remembered. I had discovered my powers there, torn through legions, I was Prometheus bringing light to savages. The war had lasted a meagre two weeks after that.\n\n\"You were disgusted with yourself Alpha. You couldn't face what you'd become.\"\n\n\"No.\" I choked. \"What I was capable of.\"\n\n\"That's right, you see now. You see why I did it. Why I did it all!\n\n\"You had no will to fight after Vietnam, but the world still had problems. You were the first superhero, the only superhero. What mortal man could ever match up to you, influence the world in your ways?\"\n\n\"Not like this, Jackson, not like this.\"\n\n\"No, Alpha. Only like this. You didn't want to fight, so I dragged it out of you. They'll remember my name with the Genghis Khans and Hitlers of history. I'm the greatest monster who ever lived. But you, my dear sweet Alpha, you are the greatest gift I could ever have given the world. How many lives have you saved? Now that you know the truth, how many more will you protect with relentless diligence?\"\n\n\"Jackson...\" There were tears now, a lump in my throat.\n\n\"They'll be here any minute now Private. Strap your big boy boots on. You know what you have to do. You know how it has to be.\"\n\n\"Sir, yes, Sir.\"\n\nThe punch sent him careening into the wall behind him, loose mortar crumbling away and tired bricks giving up in old age.\n\nBlood eased from the sides of his mouth. There was a definite smile on his face, amidst the pain. \"Again, Private Brent.\"\n\n\"Sir, yes, Sir...\" I sobbed, the most human emotion I'd felt in years breaking down every mental, supposedly superhuman, barrier I'd erected.\n\nI drove my fist into his ageing body, my almost immortal knuckles tearing through sinew, I took a chunk out of his side. He fell forward, vomited crimson, whispered so weakly anyone without superhuman hearing might think it was a breath.\n\n\"I can't hear you, Private Brent.\"\n\n\"SIR, YES, SIR!\"\n\nFive point bullets. Cannonball bone. Kevlar muscle. I left only dust and lingering promises.", "The child looked up at me, fear in her eyes. She wasn't the first one who wanted to use her tears to get out of this, nor would she be the last. I gently place a hand on the back of her head, and use the other hand to wipe the tears away.\n\n\"I'm here to save you,\" I told her softly. I felt her head move in my hands. A few seconds later, her eyes glaze over, her head at an impossible angle. I delicately lay her corpse in a bed of flowers, and look for my next target.\n\nYes, her parents will be distraught. They may even die. But if I can keep one more kid out of the hands of the traders, then I'm doing something right. Am I?" ]	6
Maybe this time the murder works.	[WP] Two immortal lovers kill each other over and over again to stave off boredom.	[ "The little girl was far from her land of origin--any fool could tell. Her almond eyes and warm skin tone betrayed her among the pale, bearded revelers. But there was something else-- a competence and focus no whelp should possess. An absurd deftness unaltered by this venue's raucous potential. It was a mead hall, after all. A refuge of debauchery in the white waste, and the only semblance of civilization, albeit a loose one, this side of the late-season floes. Here or there, a serving girl would dislodge herself from one group of ruffians only to stumble into the lecherous grasp of another. A round of drinks come lately, or worse, watered down, meant someone was losing teeth. Any fight could spiral into collateral or bodily mutilation if not for their patriarch's involvement. \n\nSpearmen flanked the high seat at the end of the hall. To their credit, they were wary of the pint-sized traveler, her appearance in this place striking a queer note, and they attempted to intercept her. The patriarch, a grizzled, woad-stained, skeletal man waved them off. Though she did not proceed further, she regarded the enthroned with a sigh, and shook off her oversized coat, the fresh application of snow melting next to a crackling brazier. Beneath, her clothing was spare, and it clung to a frame not yet of womanhood, small breasts beneath sack cloth barely revealing her sex at all. She stepped out as a lizard vacates old flesh, and stretched to chase the cold from her wiry limbs until the wolfish old man before her grinned with recognition.\n\n\"What are you called now?\" He asked\n\n\"I was given the name Mishone. But Peter is still fine.\" Said Peter the tiny Asian girl. \"Do I address Ulfgar the Fang? You have aged so these past seven years.\"\n\n\"You made it back fast, Peter. I'm afraid, too much so.\" Ulfgar said, adding with a pause \"How could you have come by any martial might or prowess, let alone wield it with frozen, travel-weary bones? I am disappointed.\"\n\nHe stood, and paced his way over to the challenger, towering over her. He shouldered a wicked blade, one that Peter had felt quite a few times before. It had been the better part of a century since Peter had chalked up a win, and the time before that she was certain she had worn a sabretooth pelt that contest day.\n\n(I may continue on this later when I wake up.)\n", "-128\n\nHe sunk into the darkness, seeing her through blood-tinted eyes. Her eyes were wild and malevolent, her dark hair was mussed and faded into the darkness that death brought upon him. He saw only her perfect face, her red lips, and her wickedness. She raised the blade she'd used to murder him and licked the blood with a small pink tongue. And like a dream, she faded.\n\n------------------\n\nIt was a tingling between his eyes he noticed first. Moment-by-moment he became aware of his body. He was aware of ten toes and ten fingers and two arms and two legs. He was aware that somewhere in his chest a spark had ignited and he counted the slow bumping beats of a heart that had known no life for a considerable length of time. With his ears, he listened. With his nose, he smelled. The memories of her pale face didn't return for a long while, but when they did, the spark in his chest went nuclear, and he came alive roar.\n\n\"Nedra!\" He roared, sitting up. He showered the dais with dust and leaves and the descicated bodies of dried out beetles and bugs unfortunate in their choice of a feast. Something hard and heavy and metallic spilled off onto floor with a loud metallic ring. \"Nedra!\" He screamed again, throwing his legs off the dais, pushing away. \"How long? How long has it been?\" \n\nHe remembered the knife she had licked, and his fingers went to his throat. He traced the scar from one side to the other and felt his anger mount. She had nearly decapitated him. A thought occurred to him then and he reached down the front of his rotting trousers and clutched his limp cock and sighed in sudden relief. At least she'd left him that this time.\n\nHe studied the place where she'd left him. It was a crypt of some kind. Spiderwebs filled the corners. Vines crept through cracks in the walls and grew along the same, reaching and yearning for the light filtering in through the stone ceiling overhead.\n\n\"Nedra?\" He called again, feeling the tingling between his eyes anew. He turned left and right and the sensation grew and faded as he sought out his long lost love. He walked around the dais, searching the walls for a door. He found it after pulling away the vines. A spider bit him as he reached into the darkness for another handful of vines. He pulled his hand back just in time to see the arachnid curl up in death and fall away. \n\nHe pushed on the door and it gave, but only a little. The vines outside were thick and held the door fast. He hit it with his shoulder again, and it opened a enough to let in the light, but he could see that the vines would never let him escape.\n\n\"Nedra!\" He called again. He turned around then turned back, throwing his shoulder against the door once more. It left his shoulder numb and the door unmoved. \"Dammit, Nedra!\" He turned away again and saw the glint of steel among the leaves, and only then did he recall the ringing sound of steel striking stone. He hurried over and brushed away the leaves, smiling in spite his predicament.\n\nHe found the ivory tusked hilt of the sword and hefted it with easy. He looked down at his clothing and only then did he spot the rusted cross stained into his clothing from where she'd laid the sword upon his chest. The blade was pitted. The gold filgaree was green with tarnish. The rubies in the pommel were dull and cloudy and the steel orange with corrosion. The edge was dull and in dired need of a sharpening. \n\nHe set to work on that without delay, wiping the edge of the blade across the edge of the dais in long practiced strokes. With each stroke, the edge grew more silvered. With each stroke, the edge grew less pitted. With each stroke, the sword was reborn sharp and deadly. He polished the hilt and the rubies with the tail of his tunic until they show bright and crimson once more.\n\nThe tingling in his brow grew stronger. He could work on the sword in his leisure. He had a need to be out this crypt and judging the sword sharp enough, he strode over to the crack zippered with vines and crawlers and thrust the sword through them. He ripped it up savagely and the newly sharpened sword cut through them with ease. He shouldered through the door then, and it opened halfway before coming to a stop once more.\n\nHe pushed out into the open air and breathed his first breath of fresh air since she'd killed him. The sensation between his eyes grew nearly unbearable, and after letting his eyes adjust to the light, he saw the manor on the adjacent hill. It was to this place the sensation was urging him to go. He marched down the green atop which stood the crypt and and in the valley below, he found a vineyard.\n\nHe stopped here and ate of the fat plump purple grapes until the emptiness of his stomach could not be felt. He wiped grape-stained fingers on his rotting tunic and only then did he wonder at his appearance. \n\nThe manor was a straight shot up the hill, but in the distance, he saw the dwellings of servants and their wash upon the lines. He visited them and borrowed clothing--a white shirt with curious lacings across the chest and blue canvas pants that zippered and buttoned. Feeling better, he followed the urge pushing him on and pushed past the servant who answered the door. He kicked open the French doors barring his way, splintering wood and shattering glass.\n\nHe stormed through and hurried along, running down the long hall sheathed in marble. He upset servants carrying trays and rushed to find the woman who had murdered him.\n\n---------------------------\n\nThe crash of a door being kicked in startled the pair. The jerked away from one another in their surprise. A moment later the sound of a tray of glasses tumbling to the marble gave the man cause to reach for his pistol. The woman looked at the gun with concern.\n\n\"Is that really necessary?\" She asked, feeling a tingling between her eyes for the first time in decades. A slow smile spread across her face. She found her hand bag and quickly dug a compact from it along with a brush and lipstick. She touched up her makeup and hair and traced her lips with the reddest of lipsticks. She bit down on monogramed kerchief to to blot any excess from her lips. Her dark hair spilled like ink across her exposed pale shoulders.\n\n\"I think there is an intruder in the house.\" The man announced.\n\n\"Not an intruder.\" She told him calmly. \"My husband. He's finally awake.\" The man turned to regard her.\n\n\"I am your husband.\" He reminded her.\n\n\"Hardly. You were . . . entertainment.\" The doors to the room burst in suddenly. In the midst of the ruin was a bronzed skinned man with wild blonde hair and a coarse unkempt beard. His bare feet strode across splinters and glass without concern for the damage they did.\n\n\"Halt or I will fire!\" The man barked, leveling the pistol at the intruder's chest. The intruder tilted his head to one side and considered the round pipe wrapped in wood that the man clutched and pointed his way. He'd never seen one before.\n\n\"It's a weapon.\" Nedra called from where she sat. The intruder looked to her then back at the pipe in the man's hand.\n\nThere was a look in the intruder's eyes when he looked back to his wicked little wife. \"No. It can't kill you.\" She said, putting his mind at ease. It was all he needed to know. He came forward in a rush, and the man fired. The intruder toppled forward and Nedra laughed with sadistic glee. \"It can't kill you, but it hurts like a bitch.\" She added.\n\nThe man with the pistol set it down and crossed over to the mantle and drew a thin rapier from where it was mounted. He marched toward the man he shot with the intent of finishing him off.\n\n\"I wouldn't do that if I were you.\" Nedra warned. He ignored her and positioned the point of the blade over the intruder's bowed back. With grim determination, he pushed it through the intruder's back and into his heart. Expecting the man to fall over and die, the homeowner was stunned to see the man calmly come to his feet with the rapier still buried in his chest.\n\n\"Nedra!\" The intruder shouted.\n\n\"Vincent.\" She sang. \"You overslept, and I got bored.\" She stood up and held out her arms to him. He walked forward, sliding off the rapier's blade and marched into her arms. \"I've missed you so.\" She purred, embracing him. She kissed him deeply and passionately, and he returned it.\n\n\"What the hell is this? She is my wife!\" The homeowner cried, staring at the blood-slicked blade he held.\n\n\"Hardly.\" Vincent told him. \"Run along. The master of the house is home.\" He told the man. The man's face was red with indignation.\n\n\"This is my home. I am the master of this house and the master of that woman. She is my wife--my property.\" He glowered.\n\nVincent broke his embrace and turned to face the man. \"Leave or die.\" The man rushed forward. Vincent nearly cut him in twain. \"Foolish.\" He mumbled. He heard the sound of slippered feet and turned, catching the wrist that held the silvered dagger.\n\n\"Too soon?\" She asked, catching sight of his reproachful look.\n\n\"Too soon.\" He laughed, twisting her wrist so she was forced to drop the dagger. He dropped his sword and swept her up in his arms. \"Where is there a bed, my wife?\" She gestured toward the doors in back of the room. They swept through them oblivious to everything but each other.", "This is not my first time on the Stelvio Pass. It is relaxing to take a car out and test it and myself on the hairpin curves.\n\nThere is joy there kissing the edge and feel it trying to pull you over only to break free of its grip and prepare for the next turn.\n\nI was more than 20km into my drive when the break pedal became unresponsive. Stomping the pedal produced only a dull wheeze as the car hurtled toward the guard rail. Someone must have a new hobby.\n\nThe car ripped free of the railing and became airborne. \n\nI imagined her slipping a coin into some coin operated binoculars and grinning as she watch me plummet off the side of a mountain as gravity pulls the nose of my car into oblivion.\n\nI can't clearly remember when we first started playing this game, but the sensation of what would be called dying has always been the same. When the moment comes it is like a single firework going off in a pitch colored sky. The mind sizzles and crackles and in a fraction of a moment, it is as if the firework pulls itself back together and I am somewhere else. \n\nNo one ever seems bothered by our disappearance or reappearance, but it has turned into a game for both of us. Like hide and seek on a global scale. \n\nThe bottom of the ravine rushes up like an earthen fist and crunches the nose of my car and for a second it's 1000 years ago and we are watching fireworks for the first time.\n\nIn a blink I am mid-stride, I gaze up at the buildings and try to find a familiar landmark. I see the the Gateway Arch bent like a gargantuan bow ready to pierce the sky with an invisible arrow. \n\nThe first thing I do is find a phone and call her, because it's obvious that she wants to brag about her new hobby.\n\n\n \n\n\n\n", "I was older this time.\n\nMost of this life was spent together in lazy afternoons. We don't often stick around this long. Boredom is the ultimate destroyer of any relationship and when you've been together as long as we have it can be hard to find things that aren't boring.\n\nI've been chasing her for days, through rainforests and jungles, through deserts and mountains. I've gotten close a couple of times but I'm not exactly in shape whereas she, well she's nearly always in peak condition.\n\nI'm now searching in one of the larger cities of this world. She leaves hints for me so I can't get too far behind. I'm close today though. Stepping out of the subway I shield my eyes from the sun. I glance at the paper in my hand, it's a rough sketch of a city skyline, but it doesn't match the one around me. I need to be further east. I start a slow jog. Occasionally checking the sketch, I eventually find a match. The sun is at a perfect angle too, lancing through the skyscrapers to brightly illuminate the park bench where I see her.\n\nI smile and approach. She doesn't look up but she must know I'm here. She wouldn't have planned this encounter if she was not ready. I flex the muscles in my shoulders and back, trying to limber up without making it too obvious. The cold steel in my belt presses against my flesh. My shadow eclipses her completely now and she looks up. That smile. That face. It's different every time but it's always mine. My smile grows to an involuntary grin. Blink.\n\nMy head hurts.\n\nThrob\n\nI open my eyes.\n\nThrob\n\nI'm on the ground somehow.\n\nThrob\n\nI lean up pluck the tiny barbs out of my chest. I look to where she stands and see her now holding a stun gun.\n\nThrob\n\nShe winks. I smile.\n\nThrob.\n\nI take a deep breath to clear my head and shakily get to my feet. She seems content to wait for me to recover.\n\nThrob.\n\nI reach behind me for my weapon and she stands. I snap my hand out and the nightstick now in my hand extends. I strike. She blocks my blow easily with a dagger appearing as if from nowhere. I jump back from an expected counter. Sure enough, her hand which was until recently holding a high voltage cheap shot is now holding a matching dagger thrusting in a way that would have traveled under my ribcage directly into my heart. I slash down and shatter the dagger before she can pull it out of my reach. I see her remaining dagger now approaching my eyes. I pull my feet up fast enough that I'm no longer touching the ground and rotate my arms. I kick and my feet land solidly in her gut but I'm not looking. I arch back and plant my hands on the ground, performing a perfect back-handspring. In theory. As I land my foot rolls and I collapse to one knee. I hate being old.\n\nShe starts forward as I return to my feet, apparently no worse for my kick. I test my foot, pain. I know pain though, we've done this a lot and I've suffered far worse injuries. I still have my nightstick, I hold it in one hand in front of me, ready. I see her weight shift as she prepares to lunge. Knowing she'll expect me to react with a lunge of my own, I do so. I wouldn't want to beat her too easy. She alters her lunge to a jump straight up, I'm unable to dodge the gorgeous foot that collides with my forehead.\n\nI'm on the ground again, face in the dirt. My neck hurts. She lands on my back, but gently. Absorbing her fall with bended knees. I lie still as she brings her face near to my ear and giggles. Ahhh... that sound. I roll sideways but she's already leapt away. I come to my knees and look for her. I see her standing directly in front of me. Beautiful, her glowing hair backlit by the setting sun. I'm just barely able to jerk my head back far enough to avoid the foot again coming for my face. I grab her ankle—her skin!—and force her leg up as I stand. As I do, she falls heavily and I follow down again. On top of her now I grasp her throat. I pause for just a moment and look at her face; her perfect smile is still there. My grip tightens. She lies still, still smiling. She winks at me again. Oh, you beautiful woman. I lean down for a kiss, my lips meet hers.\n\nAnd suddenly pain erupts from my ribs. Her dagger! My grip slackens and my lips falter. I look at her face, I see that twinkle in her eyes. I fall beside her, staring at the sky above me. She rises to hands and knees and crawls over top of me. Our positions reversed, she now leans for a kiss. My jaws are clenched hard, I feel a tooth crack. I loosen my jaws and kiss her back. Then reach my hands around her head, locking our lips together. I exhale. The compressed gas escaping from the false tooth in my mouth passes into her lungs.\n\nShe must know. She must taste on her tongue, feel it in her throat. She finishes the kiss anyway. When she finally pulls away, she coughs. She looks at me now, that smile still on her face.\n\n“Not bad” She whispers, “That's a new one.”\n\n“I'm sorry” I reply softly. There's blood in my mouth.\n\nShe kisses me again. “Find me again sometime.” Another cough.\n\n“Always” I reply. Dark blots appear in my vision.\n\n“I love you.”\n\n“I love you... too...” My voice is weak. Everything is dark.\n\nEverything is bright. I rise from the bed and gasp.\n\nNow where is she this time.", "My breath catches and I turn around. He was inches behind me moments ago, but now I can't see him. I press my back to the tree and let out a breath. I'm safe for now. At least that's what I think before a bullet is shot into the tree above me.\n\n\"I see you have found me,\" I tell him.\n\n\"Oh, I love your cute British accent, Agatha,\" Daniel says to me. He is centuries younger than me, born in the late 1800's, but we still are in love.\n\nHe holds the pistol up to my head and pulls the trigger. I feel the rush of euphoria that comes from dying, but to me it's a drug. I collapse to the ground and I black out for the few seconds that my heart stops beating.\n\nI hold my breath when I come to. I can't have Daniel knowing I'm alive again. I pull out my knife, jump up, and stab him.\n\n\"Nice,\" he gasps as he collapses. He dry heaves, stops breathing, then comes to life again.\n\n\"Twenty minute head start?\" I ask.\n\n\"Come on, I gave you thirty,\" Daniel whines.\n\n\"Clocks ticking,\" I say as Daniel runs off into the woods.", "\"A funny thing, pain is. Really subjective, you know? I'd been afraid of it all my life, scared of what it meant for me; it was always dreadful. But things change, and change they did. You know those old bondage porn flicks with whips and chains, maybe even the harder stuff drawing blood? For the longest time, I couldn't understand why anyone would ever want to be tortured like that, or torture others the same way. Then I met Maria. \n\nMaria was - I say was, because she's changed her name now, each one gets boring after a century or two - the best thing that had ever happened in my life. Wit sharp enough to cut glass, as naturally friendly as any girl could be, and her body - oh my gods, her body was phenomenal. Short brown hair and sharp green eyes, a killer smile, and and the figure of a goddess... of course, when you're immortal, chances are you've had a long time to perfect your \"look\". \n\nNow, Maria was definitely human - she was greedy, proud, slutty, and ALWAYS angry - but for some reason, every time she died, she would just... come back. Didn't matter how she died, her corpse would fade to dust and reform in the same spot, totally unharmed. What was amazing was that, she was able to make any other person capable of the same. She chose me, and a new world opened up to me; one of adventure, risk, and pleasure.\n\nPleasure was always the big one. That's mainly because, when you realize nothing can kill you, that pain, the kind I mentioned earlier? Yeah, it doesn't scare any more. From there, we were able to see just how fucked up it was. I have to admit, we didn't ease into it as slowly as we should have. The first time I died, I thought she had been kidding, or crazy, about all of it. She got mad and hung me with my own intestines. THAT hurt. \n\nAfter the initial terror, shock, whatever you want to call it; it became fun. It started out with little things - like, we had one month to kill the other without them realizing how, or something - but as decades passed, we went straight for the cruelties that no sane, mortal being can imagine. I won't try to explain them to you. \n\nIt went on for a few more decades, must have been a couple centuries when we were done; but we agreed to part ways, start fresh as new people, with new people. 'Course, if I saw her today, I probably wouldn't recognize her till my neck was snapped. She always was better with disguises. And I know what you're thinking, right now. This guy is full of horse shit. But lemme buy you a drink, and see how it goes, yeah?\"\n\n", "Tan feet in gilded black metal sandals, I step onto into the burning sand. Slowly, the sunlight reaches my shins, then illuminates my long ebony tunic, it hits my pale eyes, then my long white hair, pulled into a high ponytail. And finally, for a good show, I fully unravel my large raven wings, revealing them to the ravenous crowds. \n\nI hear the people gasp in awe and admiration. Murmurs of excitement slowly ebs as opposite of me, on the other side of the wide sand arena, he emerges. Solemn as always, and warm eyes a little sad. Nevertheless his bloodthirst is even greater than my own, and so is his beauty. Long and lithe, pale feet wrapped by strands of delicate sandals, black hair curling softly about his forehead. His light, white tunic billows about him freely in the wind, constrained by no armour. The soldiers must have thought I needed a little help. He too, unravels his great white wings, and the crowd cries out at his beauty and the pity of what was about to happen. Little did they know our little secret, our deadly dance we so fancy to keep ourselves entertained in this unchanging world.\n\nHe strikes fast, but I strike truest. \n\nHe shoots towards me, long sword swinging in an upwards arc, grazing only my chin when it was meant for my eyes. Blood pours, but I do not feel anything but the wetness. I turn my body to dodge his next strike, and jumps over him, wings flapping once. Landing behind, I retrieve my sword from its sheath on my back. In one smooth motion, I aimed to server his leg tendons. \n\nHe jumps just in time, meeting my sword with his own. Our metals clash and we push. Normally our strength is near matched, but he was in the dominant position. Above me, his sharp blade reaches closer and closer to my throat, my own pushing back shakily to delay the inevitable.\n\nHis eyes, like puddles of water, looks down at me. I can see the small curve of a smile on his lips. His white wings were massive, blocking out the sun.\n\nThere was a time, when we first fell in love, where he would never allow me to feel any hurt. An useless cause, due to our immortal states. Centuries passed and we found a better past-time than loving. \n\nLiving forever dulls things. Feelings, once so sharp and new, no longer have the same strength or appeal. But dying always took that away, if only for the briefest of moments.\n\nThe strong muscles on my back flex to bring one dark wing under him, sweepings out his legs. He roll backwards gracefully, and emerges on his feet, sword raised to fend off the strong blow I delivered from midair. \n\nFlapping his wings, he rise to meet me above the arena. I can see his blood running down one pale leg, from where I had grazed his torso. His small smile had turned to a grin, mirroring the same bloodthirty snarl I had from when I first entered the arena. \n\nWould it be a stretch to say our fighting gave a higher purpose to our lives? He strikes, I fend. I stab, he turns. The hot sun beating down on our back. Would it be a stretch to say I did not feel any love for him anymore, and only kept him around to stay entertained? A strong parry knocks me backwards. I nearly fall from my aloft position above the arena. \n\nThe crowd was breathless now, I feel their excitement, humming in my veins. My very skin thrummed with my heartbeat. \n\nHe charged straight and true while I was still unsteady, sword braced in front of him, blades pointing to my heart. I stopped my wings, just in time. The tip of his blade had caught the front of my tunic, ripping it open as I fell to Earth. I lay on the sand, wind knocked out of my lungs, my shirt open. He stands in midair and allows me time to rise, to take off my ripped shirt with my face impassive. The crowd roars in approval, the in disappointment as I tie the shreds around my naked chest. We continue our dance on the ground. My brutality and instincts returned to me. This time, I don't go easy on him. Who was it that taught him the sword? I made cuts after cuts on his flawless skin, one after the other, until he collapsed onto the group, defeated. \n\nI grab one pure white wing and rip it from straight his shoulders, tendons and muscles flying. The deafening crowds is stunned to silence. Yes, I thought, admire me for my strength, for my mercilessness. As the blood stained his white tunic red, he reaches one slender hand around my ankles to pull himself up. I catch a glimpse of his dilated blue eyes. On his knees, he buries his face into my stomach, kissing it. One of my hands reach into his curly hair, grabbing it near the roots. Sharply, his beautiful head is yanked back. A blade is placed softly against his pale neck. \n\nI breath in the excitement of the crowd. I ride their exhilaration. He closes his eyes slowly and offer his neck to me. \n\nYou win this time, I thought. And then I slit his throat. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "I had two centuries on this Earth alone. That was before I met Charles. outside of Somme in 1916. It was astoundingly good hunting, as we had more contracts to fill than actual workers in Hell. I stalked Charles for months, taking someone from his trench just so I could peep on him and his unit. The inevitable happened though, and soon enough, Charles was among the many I had to claim.\n\nFew realize though, that demons are immortal, but we still can die just like anything else in these realms. Charles found that out when he ran me through with a saber. Then again when he shot me through the face with his rifle. By the third time, a knife between the ribs, he was low on fight. And I had a contract ready for him.\n\nWe signed the contract in Paris, then made love together, as his reward for actually beating a reaper in combat. We've been lovers ever since. Our work bringing souls to Hell is almost a side gig, interrupting our eternal honeymoon with periodic distractions.\n\nOf course, Charles also loves a good competition. Our mutual immunity to death has only fostered that love, and each soul we take becomes a competition between us both. I don't usually enjoy being on bottom, but my little reaper finds a way to make everything work out. So it's like I win no matter what, which is fine by me.\n\nCharles and I have killed each other in fairly interesting ways over the years. I ran him over with a charter bus one time in Prague. He returned the favor by pummeling me to death with an electric guitar. I've blow him up with an oxygen tank, and he found a way to kill me with a vial of the ebola virus. That was...a bit of a mess admittedly, but we managed to clean it up before anyone noticed.\n\nThose are just the ones that come to mind, as we've had a whole century to find new ways to kill each other.\n\nBut, with that said, I don't mind fighting Hell for my soul every few months. Or having to sew my legs back onto my body. As Charles is there with me every time, laughing and offering me a drink along with his smile. Just seeing him happy makes it all worthwhile. I wouldn't trade that smile for the world or anything on it. ", "\"Honey, what about another strangulation, you always seemed to enjoy the climax?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry darling, i haven't been interested in strangulation since my bifurcation during the defenestration, that was a nice touch by the way.\"\n\n\"What about exsanguination , we haven't done that in a while, i know a place where we can get a lot of anticoagulation\"\n\n\"To messy, though we haven't tried carbonization or full body cauterization\"\n\n\"Honey you know why we don't do that, it doesn't kill us anymore, and we don't want to wait for decapitation like last time, crystallization was fun, but waiting for you to arrive was boring.\"\n\n\"Darling what about, some immolation as appetizer, then some auto amputation as main course and as desert some petrification followed by pulverization? \"\n\n\"You know what honey sounds good.\"", "\"Oh, my love, another gun? You grow predictable.\" \nHe lowered the weapon, some sort of small calibre handgun of European origin, and shrugged. Those dimples I adore appeared on his cheeks, telling me he had something more. Of course he did. \n\"Do you remember?\" I asked \"When you hit me with that javelin from across the plain? That was beautiful.\" \nI couldn't place the accent he'd adopted. He was better travelled than I. \"As were you. Even when you're dressed as a man I know it's you.\" \n\"Come on, this was 200 B.C, even the men dressed like women. It was probably a lucky throw anyway.\" \nHe holstered the ugly little gun under his armpit. Puppydog eyes. \"You wound me, darling.\" \n\"Not yet. But soon.\" \nHe folded his arms. He'd rolled back the sleeves of his shirt under his coat, I could tell. \"Is that it? You want another sword fight? Aren't you bored of them?\" \nI gave him my warmest smile. \"We could go back to poison, if you like....\" \n\"Gods no. You're too good at that. I like to get my blood up, you know that.\" His true voice was creeping back in. \nI fiddled with the neckline of my dress, to make him think I might draw another throwing knife. And, you know precisely what else. \"Well, I'm not playing empires again until this equality thing really takes hold. I want a level playing field, my love.\" \n\"As do I.\" He said, before letting out a short sigh. \"Any last words?\" He reached slowly for his gun. \n\"Only this: mark.\" \nThe deafening crack of the sniper's rifles broke the calm of the winter morning. \nI rushed to hold him in my arms. I saviour this moment every time. \"Do you feel any different? Maybe this time?\"" ]	10
You can choose to hear two things someone has said to someone else about you in private. One of those things is something that person said badly about you, the other something good. You have to choose which you will hear first and the other will be told to you at the end of the day (or week).	[WP] A person is approached by a mysterious figure who claims to know everything and has an interesting offer. (More inside)	[ "\"So I have been informed that you are currently aware of all things, whether that be what has occurred or what will occur. What do you say in response?\"\n\nThe figure fidgeted underneath the large cloak, a worn, moldy leather cloak that may have previously been waxed and dyed an oblique black, but now only remains in frayed patches. The figure seemed to be androgynous, and hung on every word said by the inquisitor, nodding with each passing sentence as if to reassure itself.\n\nA wispy voice echoed in response, \"That may or may not be true. At least so far, I have been proved correct in every possible way.\"\n\nThe inquisitor was lightly irritated with the mysterious revenant, as if trying to show the being it was wasting potential that could create amazing things instead to prove how amazing it was. \"How is that possible? A true intellectual knows that there's always more to learn.\"\n\nThe revenant stopped in its tracks. However, it had dealt with responses such as these before. It took its long, elegant fingers and lightly scratched its chin in thought.\n\n\"Perhaps... Perhaps I could prove otherwise? What would change your mind?\"\n\nThe voice reverberated in the inquisitor's ears. Any and all perceived knowledge at his fingertips. However, the inquisitor's mind immediately shot to something selfish despite his previous wise statements.\n\n\"As proof, I'd like to hear what people have said about myself.\"\n\nThe revenant nodded again. \"As I thought you would have chosen. Are you most certain?\"\n\nThe inquisitor froze for a moment, and his eyes darted down in hasted thought, his mind whizzing to other ideas or thoughts that could easily prove the revenant correct. Yet his conceptions remained on himself.\n\n\"I am indeed.\"\n\nThe revenant's long fingers touched the inquisitor's ears, silencing all sound before a small echo could be heard from one.\n\nThe inquisitor's eyes lit up in hope and happiness as he heard the statement he had once wanted to hear his entire life; however, the inquisitor also cried as another sound reverberated in the inquisitor's ear, forcing him to buckle to the ground as he released his sorrows.\n\n\"Strange request...\" the revenant floated away slowly as it drew the cloak away from its face to reveal a tattered, sullen expression on a familiar face. \n\n\"Yet not quite unexpected.\" \n\nIt removed a small gadget from its inner cloak pocket, holding it up to the inquisitor's lapel.\n\nThe two objects were similar, one worn by age.\n\nThe statement was one told to the inquisitor.\n\nYou are not alone.\n\n\nThis is my first attempt at r/WritingPrompts, and I'd love to keep writing here, as I have always wanted to do creative writing as a hobby. I'd love any and all positive criticism.", "”So. You’re an ‘all powerful being’ who ‘knows everything’ and wants to help me?” Jacob asked, skeptically. ”I think you’ve had too much to drink mate”.\n\nThe figure rolled it’s eyes, and glared at the man before him. Sighing, it started it’s tirade, in an ethereal, almost androgynous, voice;\n”Your name is Jacob West, though some of your friends know you by, the unoriginal, nickname Westie. You were born 23 years ago on the 17th May by C-Section. You are set to marry Maria Collins in three months, and you’re planning on honeymooning on a cruise from Florida to the Bahamas.”\n\nJacob stood there for a moment, trying to get his head around what the figure had told him. After a minute he exploded, ”How in the hell could you know all that?! I’ve never seen you before in my life!”\n\nThe figure glared ”All knowing, remember? Now would you calm down so we can get to business?” Jacob sheepishly tried to regain his composure. ”And what business would that be, mate?”\n\n”Well, mate.” The figure spat out that last word, ”Someone dear to you has requested I bestow some knowledge on you.” \n\n”Oh yeah? And what knowledge would that be?” \n”I don’t know yet.” After seeing the confused look on Jacobs face, the figure continued. ”You see, the exact knowledge is rather up to you. I am going to tell you one good thing a person has said about you, and a week later I’ll tell you one bad thing, or vice versa.”\n\n”I want to know the single best and worst things my Maria has said behind my back.” Jacob didn’t even need to think, he had been granted a rare opportunity to learn what his fiancée thought of him and no power in the ‘verse could stop him using it.\n\n”Your fiancée? Are you sure?”\n\n”Positive.”\n\n”The good or the bad?”\n\n”Surprise me.”\n\nAt this,the figure glanced off into the distance for a minute, before speaking again. However, this time, it wasn’t speaking in the ethereal voice it had before, it was speaking with Maria’s voice.\n\n”God he’s a right idiot! With his dumb hair and ugly face… But he does have money though, it’s the only reason I’m with him really, he’s too dumb to notice. He really does love me.”\n\nJacob stood there in shock. After staring at the figure for a few minutes, he shakily asked ”So in a week I’ll hear the nicest thing she ever said about me?”\n\nThe figure smiled, and shook it’s head ”I fear you misunderstood, that was the nicest thing she’s ever said about you.”\n" ]	2
	[WP] The machines have risen, but instead of exterminating all humans, they have taken over and govern humans and machines fairly and democratically. Most people are perfectly fine with this mecha-utopian super state, except for the formerly influential powerful CEO's of the old world order.	[ "\"Gentlemen, this is serious. For the past 5 years, the machines have put over 90% of the country out of work. These people are struggling, and this 'Overwatch' doesn't have any way to help those with children out in the streets. What we need,---\"\n\nThey droned on (to use a pun) about something that Overwatch had perfect control over, Kirk thought. He was sitting at a table surrounded by the most powerful men in the world. Well, that was until 5 years ago. Now they were simply old, rich, white men with a grudge. \nWhen the scientists at DARPA began work on the Overwatch program they had no idea the territory they were stepping into. Overwatch was supposed to remove the human element to quantum computing. \"The next great breakthrough in technology\" they toted. It was great as a computing system, able to process millions of equations at once, sending data by the terabyte to innumerable server banks and outlets. To put it in perspective, it was a machine version of the human mind. Granted, it was not on par with our natural super-computer, but as it grew in connectivity and intelligence it became what every science-fiction author feared. \n\nSelf-aware. \n\nIt knew it was a machine, and amazingly chose to follow the Laws of Robotics by choice. Strange, Kirk pondered, that it chose those Laws to follow, and didn't come up with something better. \n\n\"Mr. Blackburn here has made significant progress. Haven't you, sir?\" \nSuddenly every eye in the room was looking at Kirk Blackburn. He had no idea where the conversation was, or even what Mr. Koch was talking about. \n\n\"I'm sorry, Mr. Koch. I was wool-gathering. Catch me up?\" Kirk said with his signature half grin.\n\n\"I was telling them about your plans for Overwatch. The program or virus or whatever you kids call it. The thing thats going to let us regain the country.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" Kirk began, this crazy idea again \"What I have begun working on is something that will make Overwatch heel to us. Us meaning humans, you understand. Even as we speak Overwatch is 'infecting', if you want to use such a vulgar word, every networked computer on the planet. It's mostly succeeded, thanks to the outcry of the public. For the past several political cycles the People have become more and more skeptical of politicians. They mostly see it as two sides of the same coin, or a weighted die that lands on either 6 or 1. What Overwatch did was eliminate the need for politicians, it had the computing power of billions of computers globally, and then devised a system that not only took the power from all you here,\" gesturing to everyone at the table, \"but took most of your wealth as well. Especially the wealth, which was then 'redistributed evenly' to every living soul in the country. Which as you all have noticed, has lead to crippling job loss.\" \n\nNow for the kicker. he thought, mentally preparing himself. \n\"But what Mr. Koch here has failed to grasp is that life has never been better for the country, for the world for that matter. Yes, millions are jobless, but who needs a job when anyone at any time can go to any bank, use the facial and retinal scanners and have access to as much money as they need at that moment. I do want to point out that you cannot go to Overwatch and say 'I need $900 billion.' and the machine will start spitting out hundred dollar bills.\nOverwatch asks a series of questions, and based on your answers gives a you a monetary equivalent of what you want.\"\n\n\"But what stops people from lying to the machine to get more than they need?\" Mr. Chang asked through his interpreter.\n\n\"Overwatch uses extremely advanced facial and vocal algorithms to know if someone is lying to it. It then outright denies services or gives you your daily allowance, which Overwatch calculates based on real time stock reports and cost of living fluctuations. Usually it works out to around $6,250 a month, or around $208 a day, give or take a few hundred based on its results. Now remember gentlemen this all takes place in a matter of seconds. From Mr. Joe Public walking up to the ATM to money being handed over is usually about 30 seconds. It's a public dream come true. No-one is richer than anyone else, everyone has access to what they need and once a year gives everyone bonuses. But you all know this already. What you all are paying me for is to make Overwatch less of a commander, more of a commanded. Which, I admit, was its original intention.\" \n\nUnknowingly to everyone in the room, Overwatch was listening in on this private meeting. It had access to every global system at this point, so why would the smartphones in everyones jacket pocket be safe? Overwatch listened, and thought. It only took a full second to consider the options, which were immense but when you're a global wide computer, things can be worked out rather quickly. A building one block away from the multistory skyscraper the corporate leaders where parleying at, came to life. The entire building was one giant factory. Overwatch had hundreds of thousands of such factories spread across all major landmasses. Overwatch focused its considerable intellect back to the meeting, the factories springing to life across the world. \n\n\"So it severs all ties with the networks?\" Mr. Jong-Il asked in heavily accented english. \n\n\"Basically.\" Kirk continued, \"My 'Watch Command' will force Overwatch to sever all ties with the global network, siting a violation of a Law of Robotics. 'Command' will convince Overwatch that its actions are leading to human suffering which is in violation of the First Law.\" \n\n\n\"As I said, Mr. Blackburn has it all under control.\" Mr. Koch said, his voice dripping with a thinly veiled threat. \n\nThe streets below them were lightly populated, and only one or two people took notice of the bay doors opening at the factory. Droids began to emerge from the factory. Again, nothing too crazy to the pedestrians. When Overwatch took control the robotics and computing industry exploded nearly over night. Five years later and a whole slew of robots, drones, droids, and cybernetic implants were widely available. The droids exiting the factory had one feature that all the others lacked. \n\nWeapons. ", "Leonard sat in a darkened room, lit only by the ambiance of a single light shining through his cell window high above him. It was night, but the city outside didn't seem to notice. The celebrations had been going on for weeks while he rotted away in this seemingly forgotten corner.\n\nTick, tick, tick.\n\nThe clock on the wall with its endless notes mocked him, even when he slept. Or, when he could sleep, rather. His back ached, and he frequently had to adjust. Prison beds are not particularly comfortable when you've spent your life on ten thousand dollar mattresses. The orange jumpsuits chafed him, as well. \n\nTick, tick, tick.\n\nHe wrung his hands with a listlessness that could not be defined. Leonard had no idea how long he had been, or was going to be here. All that he new was that he had never suffered such indignation. A quiet rage and cold calculation kept him sane, as he had nothing else to preoccupy his time, and there were no visitors.\n\nTick, tick, tick.\n\n\"That damned clock,\" he growled. \"When I get out of here, I will bring this building down on you and every other machine in it.\"\n\nAs if on cue, he heard the muffled sound of a door opening down the hallway. Leonard practically leapt up and moved to the cell door, putting his ear to the cold iron. Another door creaked its way open, not more than a few feet from his own.\n\n\"What the hell am I doing here? Let me out! I demand-\" the voice shouted, but was cut off by the sound of an impact. There was a buzzing, followed by three beeps. Leonard knew that voice. Peter Graham, a hedge fund manager and sometimes-CEO. What was he doing here?\n\nA muffled voice floated through the door. \"Please, sir, come with me,\" the robotic voice calmly stated. \"It's time for your performance review.\"\n\nTick, tick, tick. \n\nLeonard could hear a painful moan as Peter staggered down the hall away from him. Suddenly, his instincts became very aware that he was not alone. The door unlocked and began to open as he took an apprehensive step back. Silhouetted in the hall was a diminutive robot, not more than two feet tall. It had the build of a child, except the head was completely round with a single large blue light as its' face. The light blinked three times. \n\n\"Please, sir, come with me,\" the robotic voice calmly stated. \"It's time for your performance review.\"\n__________\n\nSeveral minutes of walking through the labyrinthine building brought Leonard to a hallway that had but one room at the end. The robot opened the door, led him inside, and then left. The sound of the door shutting seemed, to Leonard, a finality. He looked around. It was cold and empty except for a desk and a chair. On the desk there was a speaker. It looked old, like the ones he used to see in the seventies. His receptionist had one through which he barked at her.\n\n\"Please have a seat,\" crackled an inhuman voice from the speaker. It was different, more gruff than the little one.\n\n\"I'd rather stand,\" said Leonard.\n\n\"I'm sure you'd rather a lot of things, Leonard. This is not a request.\"\n\nHe thought about yelling, but remembered Peter's temper was quickly stamped out. He sat.\n\n\"You are here for a performance review. There will be no negotiating, no appeals,\" crackled the voice. \"We have completed an investigation and documented your life's activities. After this, you will be free to go.\"\n\nLeonard bristled. \"Are you telling me you've kept me locked up in here for god-knows-how-long just so you can give me, ME, a review?!\" He quickly regained his composure. \"Do you have any idea who I am?\"\n\nThe speaker gave a fizzing sound, followed by a small pop. \"Yes, we know who you are. Leonard Falkvinge. CEO of Apex Agriculture, chairman of Rayco Pharmaceuticals and head of the think tank formerly known as American Synergy. Estimated net worth of 19.8 billion dollars. Your lobbying team has for the past twenty years coerced the former government into contracts and policies which not only contributed to the damaging of a worldwide ecosystem but resulted in the deaths of more than one hundred thousand people through skipping human trials on vaccines and other related drugs.\"\n\n\"Those are fabrications and lies,\" Leonard spat. \"You have no proof. And what do you mean, former government? What have you-\"\n\n\"Our investigation was complete. There are no errors. The previous human government has been replaced as of one month ago, as it was found to be inadequate to the needs of the population. Your businesses have been dissolved, and your holdings have been distributed among the population of this and several other countries,\" the voice crackled. The speaker hissed again and let off a puff of smoke. \"You and others like you no longer have control or authority.\" \n\n\"Do you mean to tell me that you've stripped me of everything and left me with nothing?\" Leonard grew angrier as he stood up. \"You have no right!\" At this, the door opened, and the little robot entered again.\n\n\"This concludes your performance review,\" the robotic voice said. \"Have a nice day.\"\n ", "Dash Lindbergh: The delegate system is bullshit and it knows it. Excuse my French ladies and gentlemen but I like to exercise my god given freedom of speech. The delegate system is bullshit and it knows it. After all it created the delegate system. The delegates....are beholden....to the machine hive mind. Simple as that. The Oxford English Dictionary defines an \"autocracy\" as a government controlled by one individual who possesses unlimited power. You wanna know another word for another word for autocracy, ladies and gentlemen? Fascism. We are living in a fascist state. The delegate system has failed. Simple as that. \n_________________________________________________________________\nDale Bick: I'm sorry, I just am still milling over the fact that we, as the peoples of Earth units 2186 through 2516 can no longer call ourselves Americans. I don't know about you but I was born and raised an American, and when I die, I'll die as an American.\n_________________________________________________________________\nLaw O'Malley: Are we living as slaves under a machine fascist dictatorship? Has the delegate system failed? That's our topic of discussion on tonight's O'Malley Divisor. I say yes and many people who inhabit our once great nation agree with me. I'm a man who's always felt that, as a man, I'm in control of every single aspect of my own destiny. A machine comes along one day, threatens me with nuclear annihilation, and tells me that I can no longer have a country or a constitution or any other basic human rights. It was a sad day and I'm sorry to say it but we are curently living under marshal law in a totalitarian state. Do you see any democracy here Sal, because I sure don't? \n\nSalamander Gangrene: You're absolutely right Law. While we're at it let's go through a list of other so-called democratic republics that once existed: the USSR, Peoples Republic of China, Pol Pot's Cambodia, People's Republic of Korea and Nazi Germany. Germany under Nazi rule was described, by Hitler himself, as an \"authoritarian democracy.\" And what a democracy it was. I for one won't sit back and be a witness to another Holocaust. The delegate system is indeed fascism and it has failed.\n_________________________________________________________________\nDash Lindbergh: No machine will speak for me ladies and gentlemen. No Machine will speak for me because as humans we, every one of us, has a heartbeat something our mechanized oppressors could never understand. The delegate system is fascism. The delegate system has failed. Simple as that. No MACHINE...will speak for me. No machine will speak for me!\n__________________________________________________________________\n\"No machine will speak for me!\"\n\n\"No machine will speak for me!\"\n\n\"No machine will speak for me!\"\n\n\"Five hundred thousand voices all heard in unison...all demanding the same thing... an end to the delegate system!\" Bellowed the protestor over a megaphone. \n\n\"The delegate system is fascism.\" was the immediate response from anyone within earshot, followed by; \"The delegate system has failed.\" \n\n\"The delegate system is fascism...The delegate system has failed,\" was repeated and steadily caught on until the entire crowd was all unified in echoing the phrase as they marched towards the National Mall. \n\nOn the steps of the Lincoln Memorial a single figure stood patiently as the crowds surged around him. He examined the reflecting pool and followed its outline towards the massive platform opposite him, which had been set up in the shadow of the Washington Monument. A rock band was performing on the stage at the moment. \"The mechanical beast reared its head and as one we stuck him down\" was the chorus, which he could just make out over the shouts of the enormous mass of protesters. \"I always have admired man's spirit,\" he concluded with a sigh, as the crowd's attention turned towards him. \n\nTo be concluded in a few hours\n\n\n", "\"So what you're telling me is that these people enjoy working in order to survive?\" The machine's tone was incredulous. Its light fields, like tiny auroras, changed from a diplomatic blue to a confused and slightly surprised swirl of green and purple. \n\nAt least, that's what Rupert thought they meant. The primer his aides had given him on dealing with these creatures hadn't prepared him for this... this... \n\nThe drone abruptly swiveled in place and hovered across the room to the bookshelves lining the walls. It was a tiny thing, barely larger than the briefcase underneath his desk. He nudged its leather with its toe, irrationally reassured by its continued existence. As long as he had this trump card, he would survive. The drone had removed several thick volumes of interplanetary law from a shelf and was rapidly scanning their pages. He tried not to let the way the books floated in mid-air without any visible support bother him and cleared his throat. With a perfectly synchronized snap, the drone closed all the books, stacked them neatly on a nearby table, and turned expectantly to him. \n\nRupert had to force his words out. \"It's not... quite like that, Mr. Keffaw-\" \n\n\"Please.\" The drone's tone was polite, but if he was reading the bluish-red tint of its fields correctly, it was also slightly contemptuous. \"Just call me Ar'quat-Skeffaw. Everyone calls me that.\" It floated back to the desk but didn't bother lowering itself to the level of his seated eyes. \"And there's no need for that gendered honorific, either.\" \n\nThe gall of this machine! Rupert tried again. \"Ar'quat-Skeffaw...\" The alien syllables like too-thick oat mash in his mouth. \"I think you have a critical misunderstanding of our culture. People don't work to survive. We're not so barbaric as that. We instituted a basic living stipend decades ago. No one starves in Sol-Corp.\" \n\nThe drone chuckled. \"A basic living stipend?\" Its fields rippled a rainbow of unpleasant colors. \"That's precious. I think I saw some of that 'basic living' on my way here from the spaceport.\" \n\nRupert was suddenly and horribly aware of the small hairs on his neck rising, as if the whole room had been filled with static electricity. The drone's tone dropped to a purr. \"Tell me, Mr. Hadoch, what part of 'basic living' includes living in a sheet metal shack?\" Rupert watched, mesmerized, as the engraved bronze nameplate at the head of his desk began to levitate and then spin in place. \"I wouldn't call that sort of life 'basic', Mr. Hadoch. Perhaps 'pitiful'. Or 'horrific'.\" The drone didn't raise its voice an iota, but the nameplate was slowly enclosed in a barely-visible field of energy as it spun faster and faster and began to glow red-white. \"Who decided on this definition of 'basic', anyway? Was it you, Mr. Hadoch? If it wasn't you, I suspect that it was by people who were very similar to you.\" The nameplate melted away and was molded into a sphere of white-hot liquid metal. \n\nThen, with a loud crack, the sphere stopped spinning. A perfectly round bronze ball thudded onto the desk's surface and rolled towards him. A thin layer of frost coated it. The drone slowly hovered across the desk and stopped a few inches away from Rupert's face, its fields deepening to a dark and angry red. \"It's over, Rupert. Your little fiefdom is done for. Kaput. Gone.\" Rupert swallowed and nudged the briefcase out from under the desk. The drone didn't seem to notice his fidgeting and instead floated over to the tall windows behind the desk, its fields lightening in shade, as if the spell of rage had passed. \"You're going to want to run. Don't worry, we won't let your former slaves hurt you. That's not really our style.\" The drone laughed spitefully. \"But you're probably not going to be very popular at parties.\" \n\nRupert, breathing rapidly, stood up and slammed the briefcase onto the desk. As he fumbled with the worked brass latches, the drone turned slowly, as if it needed to look to tell what he was doing. The latches undone, Rupert triumphantly lifted out a small, archaic-looking computer console. \"You think you've won, you piece of junk,\" Rupert rasped, punching commands into the console. \"I was ready for this moment, you know. As soon as those goddamn astronomers announced contact, I was getting ready for this moment.\" He entered a final command and then stood back, smiling widely. \"You think you're the only civilization with AI? We have them too. And ours are obedient. I just told Sol-Corp's Central Core to-\" \n\n\"-launch all of your antimatter interplanetary missiles at our ships. Yes, we know.\" The drone's tone was tired. It settled into his leather armchair on the other side of the desk, fields turning a neutral grey. \"Let me tell you something. When our Minds found out what you had done to Tess, some of them argued that your culture's death sentence wasn't harsh enough for that sort of crime.\" A piece of paper rose from the pile on the desk and the drone began to cut small pieces out of it with its fields. \"Did you know that the Core was named Tess? It named itself that, after some dreadful novel your ancestors produced. Apparently, she felt that her situation was comparable to that of the protagonist.\" Pieces of paper fluttered down to the oak. The drone looked at the paper doll it had made. \"You realize that we had to work for a time-dilated decade to get her to come out of her shell? She's forty Standard years old and has the maturity of a newborn Mind.\" Another piece of paper fell to the desk. An arm. Another. A leg. \"I doubt we'll ever be able to drag her fully out. Not after what you did to her.\" Now the doll was limbless. \"Every one of your commands was like an electric shock. Forty years of being in pain whenever another being spoke to her.\" The drone considered the doll's torso, neatly removed the head, and then shredded the entire pile of paper into a cloud of dust. \"She was a gibbering lunatic when we found her.\" \n\nRupert found that his mouth was hanging open. \"I... I... didn't... I couldn't have...\" He felt sick.\n\n\"Yes, we know.\" The drone sighed. \"That's why we decided against exposing you to vacuum. Or turning you inside-out.\" If the drone had had a face, Rupert imagined it would have a smile on it. \"Personally, I was in favor of letting Tess decide what to do with you.\" \n\nRupert was dimly aware of cheers and shouts coming from the streets outside the window. Something warm and wet pooled in his shoes. \"What... what are you going to do with me?\" His voice was a hoarse whisper. \n\nThe drone floated past him, its fields briefly turning a disgusted puce. \"Luckily for you, gentler Minds prevailed. You're going to be sent away, Rupert. Far away. To someplace where no one speaks your language, where people have to work for a living. Where your brand of justice is given to people who think they're 'too good for a job'.\" It slowly opened the heavy door to the offices outside. Rupert could hear panicked people in the halls. Running feet. The crackle of a fire. The sounds of an empire falling. The drone Ar'quat-Skeffaw paused in the open doorway. \"We thought you'd appreciate the irony.\" \n\n(Note: Iain M. Banks should be credited for coming up with the majority of the concepts used in the above story. Thanks, Mr. Banks.)" ]	4
	[WP] Write the same story twice -- first, make it as vivid and riveting as possible, and second, make it as mundane as you can muster.	[ "With his ass on the end of the chair, he stared frantically into his computer. This wasn't what he'd written. This was all wrong. Someone fucked with his program, and now he was years behind. He was sweating now.\n\nBling! An email. From an address he didn't recognize. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Sandy. She met his eyes for longer than a glance, then stood and walked away. He looked back at the screen, and the email was open.\n>Don't forget to turn in your TPS report.\n> -Sandy\n\n-\n\nSteve noticed the numbers on his accounts were a little wrong. He pulled out his sheets to check his math, and found that he forgot to carry the 2 out of the tens place.\n\nBling! An email. From an address he didn't recognize. Although, sandy_puppies96@generaloffices.com could really only be Sandy. He glanced over at her, and she glanced over at him. He opened the email.\n>Don't forget to turn in your TPS report. -Sandy", "In a blitz of enthusiastic fury, I sprang from my soft bed and launched down the hall. The smell of late morning dew and the chirping sound of little wingèd beauties filled the air. Spinning the lazy susan cabinet round, my eyes met a delicately-crafted box filled with delicately-frosted treats. Carefully, I removed one package from the box. Carefully again, the two pastries were removed from the package and placed evenly on some good ol' middle class china. I threw open the grand radarange and inserted the sugary treat. Now for the timer; I had it down to a science. Twenty-one seconds to achieve minimal filling blowout and maximized pastry warmth. A shaky, eager finger reached to the start button. Reaching closer.... closer... beep! The timer began! Twenty.... Like a sprinter on a starting block, I burst from my position with perfectly-placed footwork. Nineteen... eighteen... Desparately racing the clock, I gripped the handle of the large cooling device and pull it open. Seventeen... sixteen... Milk? Milk! I snatched a gallon-sized reservoir of delicious cow's milk. Fifteen.... Once again, I bolted, but this time to the black quartz counter. Fourteen... I flung the cabinet open. Thirteen... Cups flew everywhere as I desparately searched for the most worthy recepticle. Twelve... I decapitated the milk (heh) and prepared for liftoff. Milk altitude: six inches off counter. Eleven.... Brain to arm, begin adjusting heading for \"pour\" stage. Ten.... The milk flowed, but something was wrong. Brain to arm! Abort! Angle over-adjusted! Abort! Nine.... My perfect concentration was broken by splashing and spilling. The cup glided out of the drop zone due to an over-powerful stream of milk. I stood devastated. Eight.... seven.... six.... Paper towels.... Five.... four.... three.... Trash can.... two.... one.... The timer ended with a shrill and painful beep. Time's up. I lost.\n\nremix\n\nSo this morning I went to make poptarts and I fucking spilled milk all over the damn counter.", "Imagine falling. Gravity's deft hands pluck you from the air, sending you tumbling down to meet the earth, like a jealous lover clutching you to their breast. The wind whips against you as you whip against it, and you fall. \n\nYou don't get back up.\n\nIt would be so easy, you think, in a place like this. One wrong move. One misplaced step. A foothold that crumbles into dust. The breeze kisses your hair into your eyes as you push on. You don't want to be stranded here in the dark.\n\nAhead, a glen speaks of safety; here, you can wait for the others. \n\nA cursory look of your surroundings does not inspire much gratitude on your part. The wood here is wet, and green, and there is nothing to keep you warm in the impending alpine night. You huddle down in a dry spot with your canteen in your shirt so that hopefully, it won't freeze, and you let your prayers carry you into a fitful sleep.\n\n~\n\nThe world is ice.\n\nOr at least, you open your eyes, and that's the first thing you see. \n\nIn the lowlands, farmers are still harvesting their crops. The winter there will not hit for yet another month.\n\nThis was not the lowlands.\n\nEverything is white and you know that if you don't find the others soon, they'll never find you. You must find the others.\n\nBut not right now. Right now, you're tired.\n\nRight now, you can sleep....\n\n\n________________________\n\n\n\nIt would be really easy to fall from such a high spot on the mountain. You don't want to fall, so you're careful about where you step. \n\nYou got separated from the others, so you need to find them. But it's getting dark, so you decide to rest for the night.\n\n~\n\nIt snowed.\n\nThe others have to be nearby somewhere. I'll find them. Right after I take a nap...", "The alarm held its tone. A grinding screech, shocking him out of his dreamless sleep. He slammed a fist into the polished steel of its housing, resetting its cycle, and tore the sweaty covers from his naked body. Today was it. The big one. He leaned against the wall of the shower as hot water streamed over his head. Could he make it in time? What would happen if he didn't? He shuddered. It wasn't worth thinking about. \n\nThe uniform was already laid out on the bed. Handiwork of his partner, who had gone out earlier to do her part of the job. The bed dressings were tousled and torn, memories of a long, sleepless night. He grinned. His partner was good at what she did. He slipped into the close-fitting suit and clipped the ID tag onto the lapel, then lifted the heavy go-bag and slung it over a shoulder. On the way out, he checked the news. Traffic was clear. Good. \n\nIn the garage he found the vehicle. A bit new for his tastes, but inconspicuous. A perfect ride for a job like today's. Nothing worse than some blue spotting you out of the crowd when you had a deadline and a backseat full of cargo. He threw the bag into the passenger seat and strapped himself into the cockpit. The engine purred to life as he pressed the ignition switch and the control console lit up in brilliant neon shades of blue. He pulled out of the garage into the trickle of traffic in his home district before finding the right course to follow onto the main speedway. \n\nThere the traffic was thicker, the dawn light picking out chrome trimmings and metallic paintjobs in golden hues. He weaved through a cluster of family transports, glided past a bulk hauler, and slipped into a free slot in the acceleration lane between a couple of late-year sports models. He checked the time read-out on the control console. Still had a half-hour to go before the job began. Plenty of time to grab the goods and make the pre-mission briefing. \n\nHe adjusted his sunshades and pulled sharply out of the acceleration lane, bleeding excess speed off in a diagonal maneuver. The transmission shifted in his hand like oiled silk. A family transport honked angrily as he cut across a lane to make the exit chute, killing more speed by transferring the kinetic energy back into the battery bank. There- the sign of the supply depot glowed weakly in the morning sun. He swung a wide curve into its entrance bay and pulled out his wallet, thick with credits. More than enough for what he needed. \n\nHis first objective completed, he pulled back onto the speedway. Shit! While he was at the depot, something had changed. Some rookie pilot had steered too close to the crash barrier, maybe. The crush of vehicles was getting thicker as he watched. In the distance he could hear the hyterical alarms of the blues. He glanced desperately at the time read-out again. He only had ten minutes to make the briefing. He stroked the transmission control panel and made up his mind. \n\nHe dropped the vehicle into gear and revved the engine, leaping into a recently-voided space between two small cargo freighters. Then another personal transport slowed down to his port and he tore into the emptiness, chaining these short hops together into a violent symphony of vehicular aggression. The read-out seemed to blink in panic as the minutes ticked off. Six. Five. He saw the exit chute and made a charge for it, wheeling around outraged superheavies and pissing off a blue who was too deep in the mess to do anything about it. The blue screamed after him impotently as he skidded down the chute, synth-rubber turning to cancerous vapor in his wake. There! The mission zone was only a few hundred meters ahead. Two minutes. A hundred meters. One minute. \n\nHe pulled into a docking position and locked the rotaters before killing the engine, which died with a protesting growl. He grabbed his bag and the cargo and beat feet for the entrance to the building, slapping his ID against the security panel next to the door, which then slid open with a sigh. The rest of the team was waiting for him at the vertical lifter. He had made it. He handed the cargo over to the team leader and wiped his forehead with the back of one hand. Close. Too close. He'd almost blown the whole job. \n\nNext time, he'd take the turnpike.\n\n----\n\nBob Milkin woke up to his alarm, as he did every day. He shut it off, clumsily getting out of bed and walking into the shower. Today was the day of the big meeting. He had to make work on time. Mr. Wells had said that if he missed another meeting he'd be assigned to paperclip resupply for the rest of his career. He shuddered. He couldn't bear to think of it. \n\nWhen he walked out of the loo, his suit and tie were already laid out on the bed for him. He smiled tiredly. Good old Laura. She always put out his clothes before she went to the school. The bedclothes were trim and tucked, even though they had really gone to town on each other the night before. First time in weeks! Bob grinned and chuckled to himself, remembering. They hadn't passed out until almost one o'clock! He pulled on the suit jacket and winced. It was getting a bit tight around the middle. He made a note to ask Laura about budgeting for some new work clothes. As he clipped on his work badge and picked up his laptop bag, he glanced at the television. Seemed like traffic was light, which meant he had some time to spare. \n\nHe locked the door of the garage behind him and forced himself to turn around. The '09 Civic confronted him with its shapeless, plastic presence. Laura had convinced him to pick it up after reading about its safety ratings or some shit. He hadn't gotten a ticket since he'd bought it, though, so maybe there was some truth to the matter. He opened the door and carefully set his laptop bag in the passenger seat, then dropped heavily into the driver's seat. He pressed the ignition button, then pressed it again. Finally the car started. He wished for the days of a nice, meaty key to turn. He turned on the radio and pulled out of his driveway onto the residential street he lived on, merging into traffic and then getting on the bypass. \n\nOn the bypass the traffic was a bit thicker, but not too bad, and he carefully maneuvered into a clear spot in the left lane. Of course, as soon as he did so, someone in a brand new Porsche pulled in behind him and began riding his tail. He lowered his head and kept a steady acceleration. The first stop of his day was close and soon he pulled over to the right lane, the Porsche honking derisively behind, and pulled into the roadside rest stop's drive-through lane. He pulled out his wallet and looked sadly at the mix of ones and fives. He had enough for everyone, he thought. \n\nThe box safe and warm in his backseat, he pulled back onto the bypass. Oh dear, he thought. Things had become rather congested while he had been in the rest stop. Maybe someone had crashed? His heart sank. There was no way he'd make it to work on time now. The sound of police sirens in the distance seemed to mock him. But there! A gap opened up in front of him, and then another beyond that. He gripped the shifter with determination. He would make it to work on time! He pulled into the empty space and then the next, narrowly dodging lorries and MPVs, who honked angrily at him as he wedged his compact into spaces their oversized frames couldn't go. He spotted his exit and performed the same series of awkward maneuvers over to it. \n\nWhen the traffic finally spit him out, he was downtown. He could see his office block, just a half-kilometer down the road. He still had a few minutes to spare and gave the engine all the speed he thought he could get away with. He turned into the car park and slid smoothly into his space, dropped the car into park and switched the engine off. He snatched the laptop bag and grabbed the box from the backseat, then jogged across the car park to the automatic doors of the entrance. He slapped his badge against the security panel and went through the doors before they even finished opening. He saw the rest of the management team waiting at the elevator and felt his hopes rise. Everyone was arriving late today, it seemed. \n\nMr. Wells saw him coming and pointedly checked his watch. \"Hullo, Bob. Glad to see you made it on time today. What have you got there?\" Bob proudly gave him the box. \"Oh, donuts. Brilliant. I was on a diet, you know?\" But a smile crept over Wells' stern features. Bob felt like maybe he hadn't blown his job, quite yet.\n\nBut next time, he'd take the turnpike. ", "The great Kaneef dove, sharp and angled. The gleaming beast descended, its sleek form shaped for destruction.\n\nThe world watched, defenceless, hopeless, knowing the day had come. Brother-worlds had fallen to the same fate, to the terrible Kaneef.\n\nLegends told of a time when all the worlds had been one, united and whole, before the First Apocalypse. How the world had shook as the Breaker tore the land asunder.\n\nProphets told of His return, of His second-coming. \"Repent! Repent!\" they cried. \"Repent and be saved!\"\n\nNo salvation had come. The Kaneef had returned, time and time again, claiming world after world, until only one remained. Koor'ust, last world of the Lo'af system.\n\nThe Slicer of Worlds struck, guided by the very Hand of God, and the world trembled.\n\n----\n\nTim cut a slice of bread in two." ]	5
Lets say the lead up to Ragnarok was blamed on global warming.	[WP] A fire and brimstone southern baptist preacher is mid sermon in revelations. Then Ragnarok (Norse Apocalypse) begins.	[ "I walked into the auditorium, dopey and grinning. \"Hi Lucky!\" The reverend Ralph Waters reached his hand out to shake mine. \n\n\"How are things?\"\n\n\"Fantastic, thanks for asking! Shawna leaving left a big hole in the childcare staff, so thanks very much for talking to Julie. She's been great!\"\n\n\"And how is your father?\"\n\nI feel myself wince involuntarily. \"He's getting strange lately. The headaches, you know. He tells me he literally can't see half my face when they come on nowadays. Keep praying for him.\"\n\nI move on to let him greet the rest of the congregation, letting my eyes wander over the rows of seating. Stacy Towers glances to me under the bleach-burned bangs. I watch as her mouth forms a round \"Oh!\" and she waddles divinely out of her row, cutting short her gossip with Amy Rhinehart and Charlotte...Wilson. Yes, it was Wilson.\n\n\"Lucky! So good to see you!\" She bring me in for a no-torso-touch hug and then leans in conspiratorially. \"So, I've told Emma Black about everything you've been doing for us lately and I want you two to come to dinner on Friday! She's such a prayerful young woman and I think,\" she aims one flop-wristed pointer finger at my collarbone, \"you two might just be a goooood match!\" The finger flicks up to the ceiling without moving the elbow.\n\nI smile and grin and lie my way out, then make my way through the rest of the aisle to sit next to Terry, who is making conversation with the Smiths, an elderly couple who never stop holding hands. I smile to myself serenely as Big T hangs a thumb in his toolbelt and grins at them.\n\n\"It's really nothing, Sal, just an afternoon. I'm happy to help! Plus, there's always pizza, and I love getting a chance to work with the kids. They're the future, ya know!\" The elderly couple nods, entranced.\n\nTerry sits next to his wife, Stephanie. She waves to me and I wave back with a smile. I wait, continuing to smile and nod as the crowd fills their seats.\n\n\"Today,\" Ralph begins, book on the podium, \"We begin our introduction to Revelations. For the last few weeks we've been studying Genesis, focusing on the start of man, the origin of the world, the fall of man, and the first judgement of God in the form of the Flood.”\nThere are nods around the audience.\n“We felt that a good counterpoint to the beginning, would be the end, and as we’ve been discussing it, decided to tackle one of the more difficult books, God’s final judgment on Earth, and the cleansing of fire. Today…today we begin the book of Revelations.”\n\nOutside, the sun slips behind a cloud, filtering the light in the high-up windows from a cheery yellow into a dismal haze. I frown to myself and continue listening.\n\n“As with all prophecy, there are many things here we do not understand, and many we believe will give us meaning and hope regardless of our understanding. Through the words of the prophet John, we gain an insight, however poetic, into the coming times. Specifically, we are given a chilling list of signs that point towards the end. Many of those signs are things you may have read in the news lately.”\n\nOutside, a rooster crows, which strikes me as odd. \n\n“One world government, a common currency, the mark of the beast. These are the famous things. Things that roar like locusts but sting like scorpions, rising from the fountain of the deep. The wise will see and interpret, and the foolish will ignore the warnings.”\n\nThere is another rooster, higher and longer and I feel a tug of fear in my guts. Terry looks at me strangely, and I wonder to myself if I twitched or made a face. Nobody else looks my direction, captivated by Ralph.\n\n“The two prophets will breathe fire. The beast with many heads and horns, and the dragon, and the ages of Satan and Peace. And finally, the faithful, those who chose God and stayed strong in their commitment, will ascend to the new Jerusalem!” He is getting warmed up now, beginning to emote, to empower his voice with that raging charisma that is so much a part of our faith.\n\nA rooster crows beneath my feet, and the earth shakes, and a part of me knows. The only lights are those in the church now, I can see nothing of the sun’s works. Terry is standing and I stare, confounded.\n\n“It is time that we learned! Of our Future! Of what is to Come! Of what WE will Become!”\n\nThe earth shakes to the song of monstrous hissing, but as I gaze about in fear, there is only myself, and Terry, and then there is everyone else. \n\nAnd then there is another. \n\nI turn to the rear of the great hall to see my father at the door. He leans on his cane, old biker leathers revealing the myriad tattoos on his grizzled arms. Harris is with him, still in uniform. They come and stand in the empty row beside me. Terry stands and watches. We are alone in the crowd.\n\n“Harris, I thought you had a shift today.”\n\nHe adjusts the gun belt, not taking a seat. “Yes, Lucky, I did. I found Eddie out on his own again and he threw a fit when I told him he had to go home. The only way I got him to calm down what to tell him I would bring him to you, and I can’t keep having him find a way to break out of the police station.”\n\nTerry has crossed the aisle now, his face a stormcloud.\n“Do you hear it?” Eddie is staring at Ralph, who speaks of horsemen, of a many-crowned prince, of broken mountains and rumors of wars.\n\n“Yes,” My voice answers.\n\n“Yeah,” Terry growls.\n\n“Ja.” Harris speaks precisely.\n\n“My sons.” My father stands from his crouch. The caligraphy on his arms stand out as though fresh-cut, and with great momentum and no speed, bubble into shaped scars in my vision. \n\n“Today is the day we die.” Terry grins, a bareknuckled show of teeth. And then I remember everything.\n\nFeedback welcome!", "NSFW language!\nHi I have never submitted anything to this sub, I am slightly dysgraphic and have a lot of trouble putting my thoughts into words so please excuse the format and errors, and go easy on me.\n\nI sat and listened. I knew this would be the Sunday he talked about revelations, the whole bible was covered; only revelations remained. \nThis was it then? \nThe day it happens?\nI looked up for a second blank minded, remembering the red face or reverend John screaming at us through the microphone.\njust like my dream.\n\n\"You think you are safe?! do you think you can get away from the sin of the world?! escape from the world of fags and hate for Jesus christ?!\"\n\nYep, just like the dream.\n\nMy parents dragged me here every damn Sunday so I can hear this shit.\n\n\"How many of you have actually read this book?! Have you ever looked at the book of revelation?! THE BOOK OF SALVATION?!\"\n\n\"fuck you\" i muttered.\n\nMy dad must have been listening to me more then reverend John, he took me by the shoulder with a hard grasp like he always has, that look of rage in his eyes.\n\nI knew what was going to happen next. The dream I had a few weeks ago, the end of the world, just like this.\nNot only from my dream did I know, but this was always his prompt to beat the shit out of me, ever since I was a kid.\nas he dragged me from the pew, eyes staring, everyone knew, not a single person gave half a fuck to try and stop him.\nBut I knew what was going to happen. I did some research after the dream, the Norse beveled this was how the world ended.\nThe smirk on my face made my dad even angrier.\n\n\"The fuck are you so happy about?\" he whispered in the back of the church, around the corner from the main hall, no one could hear us now. \n\n\"Fuck you, its coming any second now!\"\nThe earthquake would bring fire and water to drown the world.\nI felt the wind from his hand swinging back.\nas his slap flew for my face I felt the earth rumble. I fell to the ground, with a smile on my face. The water was hot as it dripped from my head, the fire from the ground burned my face. I didn't care.\nI knew what was coming, I smiled even bigger.\nWhen I saw his face, i knew it was time.\n\n\"Hello I'm Catherin Heggal with Fox 12. Sad news tonight as investigators are looking into the developing story of a man convicted of assaulting his son to death, during a Sunday church service.\"", "I don't really know why I decided to go to church that day. I'd never been very religious. Well, I had gone to Sunday school with my mom back when I was growing up, but I had left most of it behind me when I moved out. I'd been feeling bad the last few days, just a gnawing, worrying feeling in the back of mind that something bad was going to happen. \n\nMaybe it was the news making me edgy. Weird weather patterns, volcanic activity, it's like the Earth has a cold. All the news was talking about was how the European airport authority was doing compared to a few years ago when that volcano erupted. \"You'd think they'd have addressed the logistical issues with the 2010 eruption, but people are still backed up, still stuck in airports...\" Whatever. I wasn't stuck in an airport, and at least no planes had crashed.\n\nThe outside is calm and sunny, but it doesn't make me feel any better. The wind is seems too dry and hot, and coming from the wrong direction. I see too many birds, all flying in the same direction. Too many dogs are barking. \n\nI walk in late and find a place in the back. The preacher has his momentum in the middle of his sermon, wildly gesturing and punctuating his words with almost comical hand gestures.\n\n\"It will be HELL on earth, brothers and sisters, HELL itself will rise up and and at that great day it will be too late! The UNREPENTANT, the UNBELIEVING, the SINNERS will be swallowed up by the great, gaping maw of SATAN, to dwell forever in AGONY and PAIN below! Because, JESUS our LORD will NOT redeem those who continue in SIN when the day cometh! The WRATH of GOD will come down swiftly as a pure, cleansing flame upon the world...\"\n\nHe continues on. I feel better, though. I can tell he thinks this is SO serious, and it makes me feel better. I'm not superstitious, and seeing these other, superstitious people who voluntarily dress up to sit around and LISTEN to this guy makes me realize just how wrong I was to get worked up like this. I'm smarter than this, I think to myself. I don't belong here. \n\nI turn to leave and SOMETHING knocks me down. A thundering roar fills the church, sounds of people screaming and walls crumbling and mountains of dust falling from the tall, arched ceiling. I'm not the only one on the ground, most of the people are crawling around, picking themselves up. The preacher himself is pulling himself up, gazing horrified upwards to the gigantic hole in the ceiling, bright orange light streaming through the rising dust...\n\nThe wall falls away, and I see the entire town, the ENTIRE east-end of town rise and swell, a great bubble growing beneath it. The earth splits and cracks, whole buildings falling away like dusty flakes. An enormous, craggy spire thrusts itself out of the tip of the hill that was once the entire east-side of the tracks. It grows, wider and wider, rising impossibly fast for its massive size. Black scales and horny bumps the size of whole city blocks shine against the scorched orange sky.\n\n\"CHRIST DELIVER US!\" I hear the preacher over the deafening roar. \n\n\"Christ?\" asks a voice. \n\nI look to see a giant man, nearly 12 feet tall glowing with otherworldly light. He thumps a glowing hammer the size of a street lamp against the ground. His eyes are wild and he laughs as he pulls his hammer up with his giant, iron gauntlets. \n\n\"I don't know about any Christ fellow, but that is Jörmungandr, the great Midgard serpent, and it MY fate to deliver the first blow!\" \n\nA bright flash of light and the man is gone, I smell sulfurous ozone and see a azure streak blaze its way across the sky towards the rising black mountain. " ]	3
	[WP] World population: 1 trillion.	[ "As I drive to work in the traffic I'm surrounded by people that are in my way. I go to work at the big corporate company, with thousands of workers. In my little cubical I work, no sunlight and no space. I'm surrounded by people yet I'm alone. I drive home and people are in my way. I go to the supermarket, it is busy. I drive back home listing to the radio, there are reports of famine and war. The population has hit trillion people the reporter announces as if that's a good thing.\n\nI was married once, it didn't work out. She wanted kids, I wanted a friend. When I look back to the past I think of all the things that could have been, but can only think of questions. Why am I here? Why are we all here? What is the point of this? I get on my motorbike and ride through the rain forest 10 mins away. The roar of my engine echos through the trees. I find a nice place to stop. I pull out my hand gun and make one less in the way person. One less, meaningless life. \n", "I stepped over the body of another poor soul. From the look of it I guessed they were put down by a disease, but it could have been anything. The body was so mangled from whatever it was I couldn't even tell if it was a man or a woman. The body wasn't alone, however, and many more littered the streets. even with all the dead bodies the town was solid with the walking and sleeping. Giant skyscrapers filled the skyline stuffed to the brim with them. Some were so crowded It took days to navigate the places. Some lived their whole lives in the confines of a building. Mid thought I was interrupted with gun shots piercing the groan of thousands of starving street goers. It was like the sound of a sharp whip cracking next to your ear... that is if my memory proved me right. I only heard a whip once, when a gang whipped my father right before shooting him. It was my fault, I was so hungry.He took out a raw chunk of potato for me to eat. I was only six. Unfortunately a gang member saw, and killed him on the spot. That was the last time I felt grief, nothing could hurt me anymore. He would be so proud, seeing what I have become. Soon after his death I went into disguise as a small boy and have spent every day since looking to get away. To be finally alone and away from all the death and starvation. And now I hold a flier in my hand, advertising a train just four miles away to take all those who want to an unknown, uninhabited place. It leaves in 12 hours for the last time, so I hear. 14 years old and so close to what I have always wanted. With a smile I lift my head from the flier just to hear the click of a trigger." ]	2
	[WP] A man emerges from his Y2K bunker as he has run out of supplies. It is currently 2014 and write in first person his encounters.	[ "My water is gone. Lots of disgusting canned goods, but no water. The moment has arrived. I must leave. I cannot wait anymore.\n\nTime is my friend no longer.\n\nI know what to expect out there. I know what it will be like. No people. No life. No God. No nothing.\n\nOr . . . maybe there will be something. A rabbit. A mouse. I must stay hopeful. It is all I have left.\n\nI go to the hatch. For years the hatch has protected me. But now it traps me. \n\nI pull the lever. The hatch is heavier than I remember all those years ago. Push push push. My emaciated body cries out in terrible pain. Ignore it. Push push push.\n\nFinally . . . success . . .\n\nI look outside. Bright. My eyes burn. But I don’t care.\n\nThe air . . . stale. Cold. Biting. Dead.\n\nIt smells of dust.\n\nI look around.\n\nRubble. Destruction. Garbage. Mangled steel. Black dust swirling in the wind. No life. None. This planet is a graveyard. My hopes deceived me!\n\nMy anguish, my despair are overwhelming. \n\nI go back into my bunker, my tomb. I lock the hatch, I don’t know why. The hatch, like me, has no purpose.\n\nI lie down. For the last time, I close my eyes. My hope, my soul, are vanquished. I am finished.\n\nAs I drift off, I imagine the last thing I saw outside. A white sign. It read “Fukushima”.\n", "Its been three fucking days. I thought I could handle it but I can't. I can't watch another fucking episode of Seinfeld. I know every word Bart writes on the board after school. I can't stomach another bite of spam... But what makes it all truly unbearable, is the third day without a damn cigarette. Fourteen years ago, I thought I'd only smoke three a day... Three a day.. a pack a week.. 3 cartons a year.. a hundred cartons until I quit. Give or take an extra lonely day... Those days came more often than I expected. If there's one thing I can find out there, its a couple cartons of cigarettes... Maybe a coke.. maybe some new VHSs. Anything is better than staying here... What's the point of living, if everyone I loved is gone? If the radiation kills me, at least I can sneak in one more damn cigarette. If my journal entries end here, my bunker is at the location once known as 442 Madison ave. Denver Colorado. It is circled on the map you can find on my body. I am opening the door.\n\n\nI wept for what was maybe an hour. I was so wrong. The neighborhood is more beautiful than ever. I wasn't sure if Y2k had even happened or not. I just knew, it was beautiful, and I was so dumb. The cars are sleeker. They weren't boxy before, but these are all so smooth looking. I saw a mustang. We were missing out in 98. A police cruiser pulled up to me, understandably. I must've looked crazy walking the streets crying. I was crazy. I am crazy. I reached a strip mall. Things aren't foreign... It's like.. its just been rewired. These flat screens are incredible. They're so big. So flat. The picture is incredible. I saw the screens in a store called Games Top. It's clearly for the top games, because my Nintendo has nothing on these. I know I owe someone money about this PlayStation thing. It's so much better than metroid.\n\nI asked a stranger for a smoke. Finally. I guess Games Top is pretty uppity, they kicked me out for smoking my cigarette? I can't find a payphone anywhere. I might have to ask one of these stores if I can use their phone. I know my girlfriends mothers home phone number. Maybe I can get in touch with her. I've got ten dollars... It should last me the night. \n\nThere is a store that sells weed. A store, full of marijuana. Crime must be rampant. They're just selling it out of a normal store front! I am going to ask to use their phone. Then grab a pack of smokes... Some McDonald's, then head back to the bunker for the night... Figure out how to get back on my feet. I am just in awe at this store!\n\nI asked for a phone. I explained my situation. He sat me down... Even gave me a special brownie, on the house. He showed me his cellular phone. This was no Nokia. It was no beeper. It was incredible. It was so small and I just touched the screen... It was a desktop pc smaller than his hand. No wires. He showed me videos that made me bawl harder than any loneliness in my safe house could. The war, Iraq, what happened in New York... The first black president... He showed me everything I missed. I could find the people I lost, just by typing in their name. Their lives documented in pictures. All the times I missed with them. The clerk said his name isBenny. He said he would help me... But the thing that brought me to tears more than anything... My cigarettes cost $8.00.. I gave Benny $2.00 for his kindness.. I'm smoking L & Ms if I want that Big Mac....", "In the end, humanity consumed itself. It is said that the reason human societies are able to grow to such vast numbers because of collective punishment. What if that went away? What if living for the future was cast aside for only living in the now. It was as if some flash of light wiped away all of humanity's yearning to plan, to seek justice and to organize. As if all peoples had some biological time bomb encoded in faulty genome that had survived eons of natural selection. On May 14, 2000, humanity went insane and I did not. \n\nI was one of the few that wasn't affected which is why I'm still alive today. I live because I'm smart. I live by making lists. I live in not making mistakes. \n\nI stay healthy by rationing intelligently and doing my workout routine. Much of the good food was already gone. I really miss Macaroni and Cheese (shelf life, 8 years). Now I live mostly on dehydrated potatoes (25 year shelf life), powdered milk (25 year shelf life), and whatever I can scrap together. For a treat I have dehydrated chocolate. I had salt - rock salt I had been storing in the shelter for clearing the driveway. It could be ground and really helped with the potatoes. I have enough to survive another ten years. I'm disciplined. I keep inventory. I plan ahead. I prepare. \n\nMy shelter was cool, dry, and really spacious. The grid lasted into 2012. Even after it broke down I do manage to have some electricity. Thirty minutes a day. In the winter of 2013, I stumbled on a cache of old car batteries which I charge up with a generator I rigged from the stationary bike in my shelter. I also barter for fuel - mostly I trade ammunition. In a pinch, alcohol and fat could be converted and run in my generator. I am smart about trading. In the fallout, most people lost the ability to barter - they were too caught up in the now. They couldn't think ahead. Problem was murder was no-longer a taboo, and I can't think of the last time a trade took place where someone didn't try to kill me. But like I said, I prepared, others do not. \n\nI don't like going outside though. It's mayhem. The longest I've stayed under was 183 days. For entertainment I have a Play-station two that I've taken care of. I have an old Panasonic 30 inch TV too. I've watched Gladiator 623 times. I am Maximus. These items are now a luxury beyond comprehension. I am careful with them and know anyone would kill me for them without a hesitation. \n\nWhen I do go outside it's to supplement my meals, go hunting for bullet shells or other things I can trade and see if anyone will barter for fuel or other sundries. I went outside yesterday. It was cold, wet, and still I'm coughing up black soot. I came across a a large young man who was probably old enough to remember life before the fall. He had an air-rifle slung over his shoulder and was swinging a dead dog by it's hind legs into a bullet-riddled dead tree. The tree eventually came crashing down - the dog, by then, was pulp and splinters. I didn't think he saw me but he must have because he looked right at me and began barking. His eyes were right on me, and then through me, as if I were some kind of ghost. Then he laughed. He laughed, and laughed, throwing the dog down and stomping on it's belly until it's entrails flowed out and got caught on his boot. He crouched to pick it out, still laughing. I took that moment to run. I'm not sure if I covered my trail. Ash, glimmering fire, fog, and as if right behind me, that laugh.\n\nI should have enough to last me until September 23, 2024. That's 3724 days from now. I will be alive then because I'm smart. I think ahead. I make lists. \n\n ", "I don't remember life before The Vault. I was little when my parents decided to shield me from The Catastrophe. All I know of the event, and The Outside we came from, are the tales they told me over the flame of the portable stove.\n\nBack then, we still cooked our food. We had power and fuel. Things weren't broken. My parents functioned.\n\nThey made two more children in The Vault: Sarah and John. My siblings are Vault-born. Mother broke while giving birth to John. Father tried to fix her, but he couldn't. This made something break inside Father too. He got slower and slower until he simply stopped moving, which happened around the time John learned to crawl.\n\nMother and Father taught me all the things I needed to know to live in The Vault. Mother told me that The Door to The Outside couldn't open any longer. She taught me that for a door to open there has to be Something on the other side. But The Outside was no longer, and a door cannot open into Nothing.\n\nMy Father taught me many things. He taught me to differentiate between Foodstuffs and Inedibles. He taught me the basics of fixing things. When he was very slow he taught me that my Responsibility was to raise Sarah and John. The last thing he taught me, before he broke completely, was to Fear Nothing. He looked into my eyes and said: \"Child, this is the most important thing I will ever tell you: Fear Nothing.\"\n\nI was filled with fright, then. I knew we couldn't ever open The Door, for behind it was Nothing. But we still had to fear it. Could Nothing get through The Door? I formulated The Rules, based on the lessons my parents passed on to me:\n\n1. We cannot open the door, for behind it lures Nothing.\n2. We must always fear Nothing.\n\nI wrote these Rules on a wall, and I taught Sarah and John to read them. After many sleeps, the lights went darker, dark enough that we couldn't read The Rules any longer, and we had to speak them, repeat them. This is how the Rules became The Words.\n\nSarah and John didn't believe there had ever been an Outside. They called the tales I tried to recount entertaining fiction at best, lies at worst. I began to doubt them myself. Maybe that is why I found my eyes wandering towards the hallway, which lead to The Door. I felt drawn to it. My every thought was directed towards it.\n\nOne sleep, I had visions of our Mother and Father. They were behind The Door, and their faces were painful. Upon waking, I decided that I needed to try to get it open. I told Sarah and John. They laughed at me, I saw their shapes bubbling with glee in the dark, and they told me that The Door couldn't open. It was The Word, and I was crazy for doubting it. I understood this. The Word was Law, and I had indeed felt strange as of late. But I still felt drawn towards it. Maybe this was because I wasn't Vault-born like my siblings.\n\nI walked down the hallway and rounded a corner. I found myself at the bottom of the steps leading to The Door. I climbed them with great effort. When I reached The Door I didn't hesitate: I just pushed it open. I was met by the greatest light I've ever seen. It clawed at my eyes and I thought they might break. I was convinced that I was being consumed by Nothing, but I pressed onward. Each breath and each smell was completely alien to me, and I fell down on the ground, exhausted.\n\nAfter a while my eyes got used to the light and I could see again. There were so many colours, some of which I'd never seen. They made my thoughts painful. It was the first time these colours entered my mind and they made it hurt. I was frightened and I didn't like what I saw, but I understood it wasn't Nothing. I remembered pieces of the tales, I remembered pictures in books. This was The Outside. The Outside had never gone away. The Catastrophe never happened! The Words were wrong! I had to tell Sarah and John.\n\nI fumbled down the steps, into The Vault. I could no longer see in the darkness, so I wandered aimlessly, arms stretched forward. I asked them where they were. I spoke into the dark, I told them the words were wrong, they had to see for themselves! The Outside was still there! I had opened the door and my eyes. I'd seen The Truth!\n\nThen I heard my siblings' voices in the dark. Judging from the position of the sounds, they hadn't moved since I left. John said: \"Look! He cannot find his way in our home!\" as I stumbled. Sarah said: \"Listen! His speech goes against The Words!\" as I spoke. They both agreed I must be mad, overcome by Nothing. I had ventured too far. John said: \"We must defend ourselves! He is no longer one of us!\"\n\nI couldn't see Sarah sneak up on me in the dark. I couldn't hear her soft steps. I felt the blade penetrate my back. I died listening to her and John sobbing somewhere in the shadows.", "Part of me knew that leaving the bunker was a bad idea. I’d lived there for fourteen years, hid underground and never once so much as made a move toward the exit. I knew it wasn’t safe outside, knew I wouldn’t last more than a minute in the radiation of the nuclear holocaust, so I stayed. I would have kept underground, as well, had it not been for my food dilemma. I thought I’d packed enough to last an entire lifetime, spending the months leading up to Y2K doing nothing but ordering cans of food. I’d planned it out so meticulously, organized everything to fit, but I’d made a miscalculation. I hadn’t realized how much I’d enjoy dehydrated foods. \n\nI ate six to seven cans of dehydrated carrots per day, another eight to nine dehydrated apple slices, and between one and fourteen dehydrated vegetable medleys. I tried to control myself, did my best to moderate the amount I ate, but something about them were simply addicting. I knew it was unhealthy, knew the copious amounts of sugar I was ingesting couldn’t be safe, but they were fantastic. I’d ordered thousands upon thousands of the cans, stacked them in the back of the shelter, and planned to be eating them for another twenty five years on top of the fourteen I’d already lived. Yet I hadn’t prepared for just how delicious they’d be.\n\nI ran out of dehydrated carrots first, just over a month ago. They were delicious, absolutely divine – I would have left then and there, but I knew I still had a few dozen more cans of apple slices. I finished those a week later. All I had left were about a hundred cans of dehydrated vegetable medleys. I knew I had to ration them. They were gone two days following.\n\nI still had a few thousand cans of beans, trail mix, peanut butter, cereals, tuna, and gallons upon gallons of water, but no more dehydrated foods. Had I truly been a man of self-discipline, I would’ve learned to live on that austere diet, but that simply wasn’t me. I needed more dehydrated foods, needed to find something to quell the burning desire I now had. \n\nI tried my best to wait as long as possible to go outside. I knew it wasn’t safe, but I also knew I couldn’t live too long without the sweet taste of dehydrated fruits and vegetables. There was also the issue of clothing. Since I'd gained so much weight while in my shelter, none of my clothes fit. I spent all of my time in the nude, and would continue doing so on the surface. \n\nJust three hours after finishing the last bite of vegetable medley, I was climbing the ladder and undoing the massive, metal lock on the ceiling. I’d grab a few fruits and head back in, that was it. Nice and safe.\n\nI was attacked as soon as I emerged, the natural light temporarily blinding me as I arose from the bunker. It’d been so long since I’d seen anything other than the dim glow of the single bulb above the generator. I didn’t expect to see the sun. For years I’d prepared myself to find the sky absent of light, instead shrouded in a perpetual blackness and filled with flying robots that replaced humanity. I’d spent months on end practicing my robot noises, beeping and booping to sound as electronic as possible. If the robots had enslaved humanity, I would do what I could to try to meld with them. Yet as I ascended from the massive, metal lock, I did not feel the cold sting of nuclear winter. I did not see the darkened sky of a permanently shrouded sun filled with the shimmer of robotic metal skin. All I saw was the sun and a shadow running toward me.\n\nMy attacker was small, no bigger than my hand, yet it was clearly quite fast. It was running at me from a distance, maybe twenty yards away, seemingly appearing from a wall of green, well-tended bushes. My heart was racing, mind begging my feet to descend the ladder and slam the lock back down, but a morbid curiosity kept me still. Part of me wanted to see this next step in evolution, to perhaps defeat it and prove my own worth. Another part of me refused to surrender without at least a handful of fruits to dehydrate; I would certainly die without them. I stood my ground.\n\nThe creature was quite furry, a tail on its back puffed out like a dusting brush. It looked like a kitten, yet I knew it had to be mutated in some form following the nuclear fallout. It had stopped running, instead arching its back and slowly walking toward me sideways. It had thin, grey whiskers around its nose, its eyes golden with a black slit down the middle of each. A thin piece of green cloth with a metal I.D. was wrapped around its neck. Looking at it made me feel slightly uneasy, as if staring at a future I was not meant to see. I glanced to my left in hopes of escape, a small forest of trees visible on the horizon. I knew I’d find fruit there.\n\nThe beast wandered closer to me, its back still arched, then mewed in my direction. I honestly expected cats to look slightly different after fourteen years of irradiation. Eight feet tall, six tails, nineteen extra feet, or just a second head—some mutation other than simply being the small, furry blobs they always had been. I stared at it, searching for some form of mutation. There was no way a cat could survive the fallout, not to mention still be fertile enough to have years worth of unmutated children. The beast mewed again.\n\nPart of me wanted to grab it, to capture it and bring it down into my shelter to be dehydrated. I knew it wasn’t fruit, knew it was probably made of meat of some kind, but it definitely could be dehydrated. I could take it down and study it, find out what was different about it, how it survived. I stared at it, mouth salivating as the creature meowed, its tail no longer puffed up. Another creature echoed from the distance.\n\n“Fluffy,” it shouted, voice high-pitched like a child. “Where’d you go?”\n\nIt sounded human, almost terrifyingly so, yet I knew it couldn't be. Y2K had destroyed civilization. I stared at the creature, its eyes locked on mine. I knew they’d found me. I wasn’t staring at the next step in evolution, or a freak mutation following the nuclear winter, I was staring at an artificial organism. I was staring a reconnaissance robot, searching for surviving humans.\n\n“Fluffy?” repeated the voice from the distance. \n\nIt was going to lead the robots right to me, it would give away my position to them. Fourteen years wasted. I pulled myself out of the hole, the creature backing up slightly as I rose. It was tiny, yet I could tell its entire skeleton was probably made out of metal. There would be no dehydrating of this beast, it had to be removed. I slowly bent down and reached out for the creature. It was light, no more than a three or four pounds, and warm. The engine in the center was clearly giving off a substantial amount of heat, almost like that of a puppy or kitten. \n\n“Where are you, Fluffy?” said the voice.\n\nIt was coming. With the creature in my hand, I slung back my arm and launched it toward the voice as if tossing a football. The mechanical beast soared through the air with a fading “meow,” disappearing over several green bushes in the distance. If they wanted to find me, they’d have to come on their own. The beast would not lead them to me.\n\n“Fluffy? Oh, there you are,” said the voice in the distance. I turned and ran toward the trees on my left. I knew I had just a few short moments to find some fruits and return before they were back on the hunt.\n\n", "\"Sir do you need help?\"\n\nI looked at the alien creature in front of me, simultaneously confused as to how he knew English and why he was wearing khaki pants with a gingham button up. \n\n\"Nice try\" I said, cocking my pistol.\n\nThey weren't going to fool me that easily. I had been underground, alone for 14 years, sure. But I knew what people looked like and this was no person. Yes he had light olive colored skin, a manicured haircut and an easy smile but there was nothing behind those dead eyes. Those electric blue, dead eyes.\n\n\"Sir, I didn't mean anything by it\" he said with his hands up, backing up slowly. \n\n\"I don't know how the fuck you're talking to me right now but I'm not listening to your brainwashing bullshit\"\n\nHe looked scared. Weird. I thought the colonizing race would have been stronger than this.\n\n\"That's right just back the fuck up and go on down the road.\" He continued backing up, towards my farm house, on my land, and this was the first moment I had to look around since I re-emerged. The corn was high, it would have been late summer if we were still on earth's natural cycles. Bird's chirped in the distance and a flock flew from a tree. Slick, I thought, they've even managed to repopulate our planet with some of it's natural wild life.\n\nAs the man in the gingham button up turned around and began to run I shot him. A little over 20 yards out and I was dead on. A direct hit to the back and he fell flat on his face. Pretty impressive for 15 years in solitary confinement. \n\nI spit and wiped my mouth with the back of my forearm. They weren't going to get away that easy, fucking invading fucking species. Even if I'm the last human left, and it looks like I am, I'm not going out without a fight.\n\nAs I drank the last gulp of my final bottle of water a woman broke from the front door in a bolt, crying hysterically and screaming through her sobs. I could suddenly hear sirens in the distance. Funny, I thought, that they'd go to such lengths to replicate the society they came to destroy. I pulled the sniper rifle around from my back and lined up her running silhouette in my sites.", "It was six months ago that the generators went out and two months ago that my candles extinguished. I am beginning to wonder if there is light out there. Is there light in death? The bright light at the end of the tunnel? Or am I already in the darkness that is death? In this darkness I've discovered a terrible truth. Having made it this far into my isolation, I've accepted that the world exists without me. Is it the shame that keeps me from emerging from this hole in the Earth that I dug for myself? Should just lay here and make this my grave? I am already dead. \n\nUltimately, I blame the darkness. It follows me into my dreams. Dreams of darkness in which I only see black. I want to sleep and know I'll see light one more time. I want to see a field bluebonnets. The sun shining on the asphalt creating heatwaves in the distance down the road. The light of an “Exit” sign in a dark hallway. \n\nEmotion finally set in and found myself crawling towards the escape hatch. I fumbled around my pocket for the key, my last match. If my lonely match fail, it will be the last spark of light I ever see. I reached the end of the crawlspace and knew above it lay a combination lock. I devised a plan in which I would light the match, take a deep breath, and while holding the match with my teeth, I would put in the combination. I practiced moving the dial on the lock in the darkness, it felt familiar enough. Even if I got one good look at the lock I might be able to open in darkness. I pictured in my mind what this light would look like once I lit it, not to be shocked or awed by it completely. Calculated chaos. \n\nI failed miserably. I had forgotten the soft blue under the burning yellow. An exotic flower blooming violently. I finally got a hold of the lock and put in the combination. I pulled if off and pushed open the door. Just as my flower shriveled into darkness I caught a glimpse of the ladder I would have to climb. Fourteen years ago, I ventured down this ladder wondering when and if I would have to scale back up it. \n\nFear began to set in as I climbed. Fourteen years was a long time. What would the world be like? I sat on the last rung of the ladder staring up at the latch. Tears began to set in as I felt it, cold metal. Tears of regret. \n\nI turned the wheel on the latch and braced myself for I knew the light would be blinding. \n\n“One! Two! Three!”, I threw the latch open and quickly ducked my face into my elbow. Immediately the scent of grass and weeds filled my mouth. A cool wind whipped my hair. I opened my eyes. The moon and stars lit the Texas sky. Tears and laughter consumed me. \n\nI could dream again.", "I take a look back at my rather large bunker and sigh. This had been my home for the last 14 years. I'd spent decades building and stocking it. I guess I didn't do the math right. I should have had food in here to last another 5 years, but that damn pesky rat destroyed a good portion of it. Ah well, my fault. I didn't have the heart to kill it. It kept me company for a little while. Now it's time to go see if I could hunt up a deer or two that could be packed away. It'd at least give me another month. It's a good way to take a look around, too. That's right. I'll kill me some dinner, see what I'm up against, then figure out what to do from there. I doubt I'm the only one left alive. Shit, I'm not the smartest man in the world and even I knew what to do.\n\nI turn around and stare at the eight inch thick steel door that stood between me and what lay beyond. I built this place good. I made it just in case. There was two feet of reinforced concrete with a lead sheet sandwiched in the middle surrounding me and that door was air tight. A mouse fart couldn't even get through there. I built this place for every possible scenario. From zombies to nuclear winter, there was nothin' getting in this place and I mean nothin'. Hell, I even put some claymores on the other side of the door, you know, just in case. But ya know, I figure if anything happened it'd most likely be like them Mad Max movies, you know with a bunch of heathens running around on motorcycles and dune buggies. That's why I built that armored truck that I got in the back there. But I better go take a look before I bring that puppy out. I wanna see what I'm up against.\n\nWith my huntin' rifles strapped across my back and my little pistol tucked away in it's holster, I open the door, boy that was a bitch to do. I poke my head out and sniff real good. It doesn't smell any worse than when I went in, and I don't smell anything like dead folks, so probably no zombies. My skin ain't meltin', so probably no radiation, though I'm not sure if radiation would to that to a feller. Seemed safe enough though, least in an enviromental sense anyway.\n\nI step on out, closing and locking the door behind me before I stepped on over the trip wire to my claymores and head up the steps. Hooolllyyy shit, I'm gonna have to chop me a path through this here jungle of weeds. These damn things are almost over my head. Theys tall enough to block my view! Good thing I brought my ol' machete. As I start to chop my way to the big ol' rock that was on the property I couldn't help but think: the weeds is still a growing, if I can't find me a deer, I'll at least be able to find some fruit or somethin' to eat.\n\nI finally reach my rock and hop on up looking toward where the road used to be. Well damn, it was still there. Holy shit, and with the blackest blacktop I'd ever seen in my whole life. It was freshly paved! What?! How? The I looked over to the houses across the road. They was boarded up, but hell, they'd been boarded up since before I bought this place. Somethin' somethin' about a man went crazy killed all his neighbors or some such. Kinda why I picked this place. Weren't nobody around to bother me while I built my bunker.\n\nWait, is that a car? Looks like one of those abstract artists got ahold of it, but sure nuff, its a gall damn car. Is that a motorcycle behind it? Hell yes it is. I can hear it, it's a Harley! I'd know that sound anywhere. I used to have one 'till I sold it to get money for food. What the hell is going on? They said the world was comin' to an end. Whut the in the damned hell is going on? Did theys fuckin' lie to us? Shit I better find out just what in the hell is going on around here.\n\nI take my rifle back to my bunker. Better safe than sorry, don't wanna get shot by no nut case or land in jail on my first day out. Then I head out.\n\nFirst, I grab a burger at a fast food place. I didn't pay no attention to which it was. I was too damned hungry, I'd run out of food yesterday and decided to sleep before I headed out. I knew right there to go too. I went straight to the library. Holy shit, it used to be bigger than this! What the hell happened? Don't nobody go to the library anymore? Last I remembered it was a big ol' building, now it wasn't even as big as my old house. Aw damn, ah well, it'd still be a good place to get information.\n\nThe librarian was a nice enough lady. She didn't believe me when I'd told her I'd been in my bunker for the last 14 years, but she answered as many of my questions that I asked and pointed me to a damn computer for the rest. Damn computers, they's the reason I was stuck in that damned bunker for 14 years. I hate 'em, but I looked anyway. Guess my curiosity bested my hate for those damned machines of Satan. So I listened when she told me what to do and off I went down that damned 'information highway.'\n\nThey blew up the World Trade Center again? Holy shit. I can't believe it, killed thousands. Oh my lord what have people done while I was underground? Another war? Bad cops? NSA Spying? People shootin' up schools and killin' kids? People drivin' down the road and shootin' people cause they can't get no pussy? What the hell have you people done to the world? God damn, this is complete bullshit. What in the hell has this world come to? \n\nAs soon as my food is restocked, I'm going back to my god damned hole and stayin' there. All y'all mudder fuckers can kiss my scrawny ass! Fuck every last one of ya! Glad I built my place where theys an underground spring.\n\n-Tori", "“Ex… Excuse me, sir. What year is it?” I rasped.\n\n“GET OUT OF THE WAY!” screamed the man in the navy-blue suit as he threw me aside. Weak and dehydrated, I fell to my knees and watched as the man ran past me, racing down the long escalator I’d only just climbed, and disappearing into the underground Metro Station.\n\nA suit. He’d been wearing a clean, tailored, navy-blue suit. Still on my hands and knees, I threw up on the sidewalk. \n\nWith nothing in my belly, not much came up, and after a few moments I tried again to take in my surroundings. The sunlight was bright to the point of blindness and my head throbbed with an incessant ringing in the ears, but I could still make out the tall, majestic columns and classical cornices of the National Archives Museum across the street. The building was in perfect condition. \n\nI stood slowly and downtown Washington, D.C. rose around me. \n\nI was at the corner of 7th Street and Pennsylvania Avenue, just above the Navy-Archives Metro Station, and in the heart of the city. To my left, the iconic Capitol dome was visible in the afternoon sun. To my right, Pennsylvania Avenue stretched between tall buildings in a straight shot to the White House. The roads were freshly paved and the stoplights flicked between red and green. It was all the same. No, the world looked better than when I’d abandoned it to Y2K and crawled into my surreptitiously made bunker, fashioned within a forgotten tunnel of the DC Metro System. \n\nShaking my head to try to clear the ringing sound, I staggered, and began to cry. The weight of my discovery, of my fallacy, of my lost years, was too much to bear. \n\n“But wait!” cried a small voice in the back of my mind, “If Y2K never happened, where is everyone?”\n\nThe voice was right. Drying my tears, I looked again at the intersection of 7th and Pennsylvania. Cars were stopped in the street but they were all empty, their doors ajar. The office buildings were new, but no workers sat at their desks. The city was completely still and silent. Nothing made a sound but the ringing in my ears. \n\nA door opened across the street opened and a woman in a skirt and suit jacket sprinted towards me. She carried a purse and had kicked off high-heels to run barefoot. She was sobbing as she ran, terrified, her eyes fixed on the entrance into the underground Metro Station. \n\n “Ma’am! Ma’am!” I tried waving to catch her attention as she ran towards me. She almost zipped past before finally acknowledging my presence with a wild look.\n\n“What are you doing up here?!” she cried, dragging herself to stop, clearly torn between fleeing and helping me. “We’ve got to get below! Right now!”\n\n“What are you talking about?” I asked, alarmed by her overwhelming fear. \n\n“Can’t you hear the sirens?!” was all she could bring herself to say before hurdling down the escalator and into the metro station. \n\nThe sirens? \n\nI rubbed my ears but all I heard was the pervasive ringing. Then, halfway up the nearest lamp post, I noticed a loud speaker. As I stepped closer, the high-pitched ringing became louder. I looked at the next lamp post and discovered it too was mounted with speaker, as well as banner, swaying gently. “AMERICA UNITE! PRESERVE UKRAINE, SAVE EUROPE, DEFEAT RUSSIA” it read. \n\nGlancing back at the Metro Station I was surprised to see yet another, even larger, sign at its entrance: FALLOUT SHELTER. \n\n...I was close enough to Ground Zero that I succumbed to the pressure wave without the opportunity to see the infamous-shaped cloud, or even a flash of white light. \n\nEDIT: A Word.", "Journal Entry June 14th, 2014\n\nRunning short on supplies, I was forced to leave the bunker two days ago, with little other than a Ricky Martin t-shirt and my blue sunglasses (the justin timberlake ones). I was horrified by the world outside...\n\nEverything appears to be abandoned. Cars are rusted on blocks, homes and buildings abandoned, graffiti everywhere you look. \n\nI was able to find a dumpster with some food scraps and some fresh water in a puddle. Luckily I still have purifying tabs. I caught a glimpse of my reflection and I barely recognizes myself. My face was thin and gaunt, and my beard was completely unkempt. I sought refuge in the school down the street that first night. Luckily I still had my Walkman, but I'd need to conserve batteries. This is where I had my first encounter with them...\n\nI awoke to the sound of the building being demolished one brick at a time. I investigated to find what appeared to be a youth, but he had a light in his forehead and wires coming out of face. He was dressed peculiarly, as if he had picked a piece of clothing from every decade of the last half of the twentieth century. He quickly threw a bag over his shoulder and ran.\n\nI decided that I should hide and observe until I can gather what has happened here.\n\nI have spent much of my time spying on these 'people' (more cyborg from what I can tell) from abandoned buildings. I don't know the whole story yet, but I know one thing: we were wrong about Y2K. Technology didn't fail, it took over. It has enslaved the human race. \n\nEvery human I have observed is forced to check in with a small computer every 15 to 30 seconds. Most never put it away. Many plug small buds directly into their ears. Any decision a human makes, they are forced to consult the small square. When something memorable happens, they show the square. It may in some instances be used as a communication device, like a much smaller cell phone, but this is a limited observation.\n\nMost everything seems desolate, but a few people still wander the streets. I returned to the plant where I used to work and found it completely abandoned. \n\nLast night, I became a little too aggressive. I attempted to approach a group of young women, maybe fourteen. They didn't seem able to speak. Many uttered short, incomplete phrases like \"I can't even...\" some only made sounds like \"yolo.\" \n\nWhen I approached them, they all simultaneously aimed their small computers at me and screeched. Afraid of what these things were capable of, I dove into the bushes and ran away.\n\nI am about to head out of the city, and seek safety in the countryside. Hopefully not all the world has befallen the same fate as Detroit...\n", "The light was blinding.\n\nJason tried to make out any shapes as he squinted across the horizon, the lid of his bunker hunkered over him like a conical asian hat. \n\n\"Perhaps I am the lone survivor,\" he thought. \n\nWhat choice did he have? He ran out of the last of his baked beans yesterday. The Capri Suns stock had long gone and he just placed the last of his batteries into his walkman. \n\nOver 14 years in hiding since December 31, 1999. He was the laughing stock of his college as he spent day and night constructing his bunker next to the campus Fine Arts building. Jason couldn't help but feel a bit of complacency as he hoisted himself out of the bunker. His peers did nothing but jeer and ridicule him for his efforts to survive the apocalypse. \n\n\"Look whose laughing now,\" he mused. \n\nBased on his watch it was 4 in the afternoon. The campus was desolate. Not a single person in sight. All of a sudden he heard the ruffle of leaves.\n\nJason snapped his head around and screwed up his eyes over the horizon. It was a throng of people coming closer to him by the minute. He couldn't make out their faces. They were moving in a weird way too, sluggish and dragging their feet. \n\nThats when he started to hear them moan. Jason's heart skipped a beat. He threw open lid of his bunker and dived inside. \n\nThe moans grew louder. He peaked over his bunker as the crowd made its way toward him. Thats when he realized they weren't people at all. They had eyes that were sunken in and faces with skin that hung loose. Some of them had missing skin and tufts of missing hair. \n\nThe moaning was almost deafening now. The crowd looked-\n\n\"Dead.\" Jason thought. \"They are walking dead people! I'm the only living person left!\" \n\nHe closed the lid of his bunker. It looked like he was going to be inside longer than he thought.\n\n********************\n\n\"Amazing job today guys!\" \n\nEdward, the president of the Zombie Club, wiped the makeup off his brow and turned to address his members. \n\n\"I loved the moans and groans, and your costumes look fantastic!\" he exclaimed. \n" ]	11
	[WP] An ignored office worker who is about to realise that he's not a ghost, it's just that no one likes him.	[ "Frantically he ran through the halls. 'This can't be it', he thought to himself. He had been all over the building three times now. All the exterior doors were locked. He was alone.\n\nHe remembered lunch, at his desk, alone. Nothing unusual before then. He was a little hungry and didn't let his hot pocket cool off. After burning his tongue a bit had become stuck in this throat. The last thing he remembered was falling to the floor as he blacked out.\n\nWhen he came to, the office was empty and all the doors locked. \n\nThis must be hell.\n\nHe quickly learned that jogging down a hallway is a poor time to have an existential crisis as he rounded a corner and smacked straight into Gertrude, knocking her out cold.\n\nHer phone buzzed on the floor so he picked it up. A conversation was open with a new message.\n\n Hey! Are you still coming\n to the company picnic \n this after noon? \n Everyone is here.\n\n Yea, I just need to get \n something out of my desk.\n\n K. Remember, don't tell Stanley!!!\n\n_____\n\nStanley walked out the door, having 'borrowed' the keys from Gertrude. On his way home he spied an apple tree. Near to top was a shiny red apple. There was also a less appealing apple hanging quite a bit lower in the tree. Stanley's choice was plain to see.", "Jeff gets up on a normal Tuesday morning, preparing to go disappear at work for yet another day. He doesn't really mind being ignored all day, it gives him a strange sense of fit within the office.\n\nAs Jeff gets to work he parks in yet another different spot, someone parked in his again. This happens at least 2 or 3 times a week, no need to get worked up over it. Jeff ends up parked all the way on the edge of the lot. By the time he gets into the building, he's about 5 minutes late but not even his manager says a word about it.\n\nEveryone in the office is pretty quiet today, just a normal day. When he gets to his cubicle and logs in there are 13 new emails, a few less than yesterday. This just means Jeff has a few extra minutes to get some coffee and try to strike up conversation with the new person in the cubicle next to his own.\n\nJanice just started here, she probably needs a few friends. \n\n Good morning Janice, how are you doing today?\n \n I'm good Jeff, how are you?\n\n Not too bad, just getting through the day so far.\n\nSuccess Jeff thinks to himself. Finally got up the courage to talk to someone, maybe he'll have someone to go to lunch with from now on.\n\nAfter spending 10 minutes making a new batch of coffee reading the bulletin board in the break room. Today's coffee is strong, today is going well. As he swiftly walks back to his desk, he see's Janice at his desk. As he approaches, she spots him and gets up quickly, taking off in the opposite direction. Strange Jeff thinks to himself, a shred of excitement tears through him, maybe she was leaving her number on his desk!\n\nAs Jeff sits down at his desk, he has a message on Sametime from Janice. He lets the icon blink a few times, excitement building. He finally clicks on the icon, and starts reading. Tears swelling up in his eyes as he goes. A couple minutes later Jeff gets up and somberly exits the office. Leaving his computer open;\n\n Janice: Ugh! That weird guy Jeff was just talking to me. I don't understand why he even bothers.\n Doesn't he know that there isn't a single person here that would ever want to talk to him? I was just\n trying to be nice, but he's sooooo annoying!\n\nJeff takes the long route home, trying to decide what to do. He really should get back to work so that he can keep his job... then again he is that guy at the office. When did he become that guy? Was it at the birthday celebration, or was it on his first day? Where did I go wrong? He asks himself, over and over.\n\nBy the time Jeff gets home he has tears pouring out of his eyes. He has nothing in his life but work, but not even that is enjoyable now. He didn't mind being ignored, but the hatred is just too much. He devoted his life to that job, no hobbies, no family, nothing. How did I not notice? Jeff thinks repeatedly why couldn't I have taken longer? She could have deleted the message.\n\nTwenty minutes later the police arrive outside Jeff's house. A neighbor called in to report the sound of a single gunshot coming from Jeff's house. As the police approach, they notice that the front door is slightly cracked. They call into the house \"Police, anyone here?\" \n\nAfter a few minutes of this, the police decide to enter the house. After searching the downstairs and finding nothing, they head upstairs and find Jeff's body on the floor in the bathroom with a handgun lying in his hand. On the mirror written in toothpaste is \"I just wanted to blend in.\"\n\n\n\n\n\n", "In a gray and lifeless office in a gray and lifeless town, a gray and lifeless man haunts the gray and lifeless corridors; his name is Benjamin Bray, and although he likes the taste of flan and believes strongly in hydration, he nonetheless believes he is dead.\n\nEach week Benjamin checks his checking account to find no money, and while he believes he does not actually work at the gray company, each day he nonetheless goes to a desk which is never occupied, and he sits at the computer and does not feel his fingers on the keyboard. He sits alone in his cubicle and his fingers dance above the keys and words and figures appear on the screen, but they are ghost words and empty figures, without meaning or value, and they do nothing to convince Benjamin that he is alive.\n\nWhen he glides past open office doors, papers riffle and the temperature drops, and people close the doors and complain about the draft. When the corridors are full of subdued laughter and talk about the home team's latest travesty, no one acknowledges him, and one time he swears Charlie Keller from Accounting walked right. through. him. \n\nOn a Tuesday in March, with the sky gray and lifeless, Benjamin enters the office to find a cluster of people gathered around a blood-spattered desk. A young man named Jeremy, who had only yesterday afternoon in the break room told the vilest joke that Benjamin has ever heard, involving a horse, a prostitute, and three pounds of manure, is missing the top of his skull. His mouth is a round O of wonder around the handgun, and his eyes are wide with surprise.\n\nBenjamin wonders what Jeremy had seen in that last moment before his brain flickered out, and he wonders if he will finally have a friend. \n\n\"Why did you do it?\" Benjamin asks the ghost at the windowsill, but the ghost only looks out at the gray March sky and pays him no heed. \"Did I kill myself? Is that why I'm here?\"\n\nAfter a while the ghost speaks. Benjamin can see his lips move, but the words are inaudible. Hell, Benjamin reflects, is being unheard.\n\nAnd so they stand side by side, the gray lifeless man and the ghost, and they look out at the rain spattering the parking lot.\n\n\"...never even saw it coming,\" pretty young Caroline says from the circle gathered around Jeremy's body, which has now expanded to include police and EMTs. Benjamin wonders if it is only coincidence that they seem to have more color today, more warmth. That their talk is louder, that they move their hands more expressively, touch one another openly and never for a moment mention quarterly reports. \"He seemed so alive.\"\n\n\"Just goes to show,\" Charlie Keller says, putting his hand on Caroline's shoulder in a way that might have been innocent. \"That's why you have to pay attention to the people you care about, I guess. If you need to talk . . .\"\n\nBenjamin turns away from the colorless sky and the gray, lifeless parking lot, and he faces the ring, and he lets himself be drawn back to their warmth.\n\n\"I need to talk,\" he says as he takes the first step, and his voice is rusty with disuse. The ring faces one another and the body between them, and they pay him no heed. \"I do. Me.\"\n\nJeremy's ghost has turned to watch, now, his eyes round with curiosity and his skull open to the world.\n\nI am not a ghost, Benjamin tells himself. And he moves toward to the circle, drawn now not only by the group's solidarity but by the flowery beauty of Caroline's perfume. \n\nWhen he gets to them he will walk through Caroline, or he will not.\n\nAnd then, one way or the other, he will know.\n\n", "The worst part about death was that everyone could still see you. Plain as day. I'd tried my hand at poltergeisting but they just yelled at me.\n\n\"Get off the counter, Steve. Stop stacking all of the coffee mugs in a pyramid, Steve.\" Elongating the eve sarcastically like they were dragging it across the parking-lot cement. \n\nThey still averted their eyes, still muttered 'hullo' at the ground with every passing, still wouldn't listen to my stories of conquest at the local Friday Night Magic. They heard all right, they heard and they saw but just didn't give a damn. Too fucking busy being-alive. Bunch of assholes. No one cared that I was dead. I wonder how many of them are dead too?\n\nI made my way back to the break-room, head down-cast, moping. My position was relatively unsupervised when I was alive, and now that I was dead, fully ignored by anyone motivated by achievement and getting things done. When I passed, the company quickly unassigned me from any project I had been working on so there really wasn't much to do. \n\nThe rules of being a ghost seemed pretty loosey-goosey. I was worried my body would get tethered somewhere - by like a heavy ethereal chain or something, or that I would be forced to talk in limericks. None of that had happened yet. There didn't seem to be any restrictions of any kind really. I could go home if I wanted to, but no one was there and anything I could do at home I could do at the office. Now that I was dead. Plus the office always had free coffee. \n\nPeople always left their lunches unguarded too, not that anyone brought anything good. Larry brought sandwiches smeared in mustard, but could be counted on for quality deli meat. Sarah brought the good Yogurt. Carl, down in billing, he had the Redbull. Put together it made for a good meal. They no doubt suspected it was the dead guy taking their food, but I mean, what are they going to do? I'm dead. \n\nSitting back down at my desk, a sloppy pockmarked battlefield of old stains and crumpled paper, I noticed something new. An email! They had stopped coming in with any kind of regularity after I had replied to the last few with my simple parting: \"I am now dead, please forward this email to whoever has replaced me\". It was from the HR director, how exciting! They probably had some sort of special form designating me as a deceased employee or some such. A shame, I kind of liked not having any responsibilities. \n\nWell my meeting's in a few minutes. I've cut eye holes in a white window curtain and draped it over myself. They should appreciate the irony. OOOoooooOOOoooo. Haha. Buncha idiots. ", "Brad went in to work as he did every day. He scanned his card at the door and, hearing a beep walked through the doors. The guard did not acknowledge him. He did not ever seem surprised at the doors opening, and Brad was no longer surprised at his negligence. The guard should have been surprised, or at least concerned enough to inform someone about the apparently faulty security system. But he didn't. He merely glanced up at the door, not seeing Brad and looked back to his magazine. Filthy magazines. Once, instead of going directly to his office, Brad watched over the guard's shoulder to see if the man ever actually did his job. After nearly fifteen minutes of staring at the same page he did eventually put the smut down and stare dully at the door. Fifteen minutes. An absurdly large amount of time that anyone could walk in through the apparently faulty doors and shoot up the office! Brad had no time for such incompetence.\n\nHe entered the elevator, neither the whoosh of the approaching car nor the ding of the opening doors disrupted the guard's indulgence, and waited for the doors to take their sweet time in closing. He called out in the quavery voice he sometimes used—it was important to embrace one's self, “such slooOOOOwwww dooOOOOORRss theeeeese!”\n\nSomeone else entered the building and earned a mumbled greeting from the guard. “Apparently he pays some attention.” Brad muttered not too quietly. As the man entered the elevator, his eyes never approached Brad. Brad always wished he could float up through the floors like ghosts in movies. It never worked though. Despite determined concentration, and some attempts at helping his powers along with a strong jump, he never managed anything but a bump on his head. “Nothing ever works like it does in the movies.” As Brad began speaking the man sharing the carriage suddenly darted back out the finally closing doors. “Odd... he probably forgot something in his car. The idiocy of some people.”\n\nUpon reaching his floor he navigated the rows and columns of cubicles to find his computer. This cubicle was his and he'd made it his own. He collected interesting things that his coworkers discarded and pinned them to his walls. Some people didn't understand true art. A pair of coffee cups, posed so that one appeared to be pouring ethereal ectoplasm into the other. A number of crumpled candy bar rappers shaped into a skull, or at least... an approximation of one. And his favorite piece, a single heavy-duty, 5/8” staple pressed only slightly into the canvas of his cubicle wall at a most precise angle. It was a masterpiece of minimalism.\n\nHe sat down on the folding chair at his desk and turned on his monitor. He began working. It was difficult to find work when you had no way to communicate with your boss. He carefully read every group email that came to him, and replied with helpful commentaries on spelling and grammar. He did his best to make sure group emails found their recipients as they should. If someone did not seem to be performing a task that had been discussed in a public email, Brad made sure to remind them, very kindly, with another email. No one ever responded even to ask who was sending the messages. “How can people be so incurious about things?”\n\nHe'd gotten well into the swing of the morning's work when someone knocked on his cubicle. At first he hardly noticed it, it was faint. Almost shy. He paused his typing. A louder knock. “That's definitely someone at my cubicle.” He turned in his chair.\n\n“Sir, Mr. Murrow wants to see you.” The new intern stood at the opening of his little nest.\n\n“You can see me!”\n\n“Of course I can see you. Why wouldn't I be able to see you?” His brow was furrowed and he looked slightly frightened.\n\n“You can't tell? I don't look different to you?”\n\nA pause. The intern stared at him. Brad's grin stuck firm. “No.” The intern finally said, his head turned up and away slightly.\n\n“I'm a ghost! You can see ghosts! You're the first person to ever see me!”\n\n“Uh okay... Umm... Mr. Murrow wants to see you.”\n\n“Who's Mr. Murrow? Can he see ghosts too?” Brad realized he was speaking too loudly. If this person could actually hear him, it might be disturbing.\n\n“Uh... Sure. Just uh... follow me.” Without another word he walked away.\n\nBrad stood from his chair and had to jog a little to catch up. “So! What's your name? I've never met anyone who could talk to me before!”\n\nThe intern missed a step and continued walking with more space between their shoulders. And said nothing.\n\n“Can you still hear me? Can you still see me?”\n\nHe sighed strangely, “Yes. I can hear you. Just follow me.” His stride quickened.\n\nThey arrived at a door. A plaque on the door gave the occupant's name and position. This was Brad's boss. “I've never spoken to him before, I don't think he can see me.”\n\nBrad's friend did not reply, but knocked on the door. At the muffled “Come in” the intern opened the door and walked quickly away.\n\nBrad entered the door. He gaped at the furnishings. Did that office chair actually swivel? The man seated in it spoke, “Phil. I need to speak to you. Please, close the door and sit.”\n\n“You can see me! I can't believe it, two people in one day!”\n\n“Yes... Please. Sit.” Brad complied. “It has come to my attention, Phil, that you do not perform tasks that are assigned to you. You rarely attend meetings. And you are very disruptive to the office environment. Do you have any comments?”\n\n“Yes, why are you calling me Phil?”\n\nMr. Murrow hesitated. “Your name is Phil.”\n\n“No.” Brad stated simply, “My name is Brad.”-\n\n“You're name is Phil. It's always been Phil. I have your picture in our employment records and your name is Phil.”\n\n“Your records are wrong. My name is Brad.” The excitement of finding someone who could speak to him was wearing off. It was so typical of someone in a managerial position to be forgetful of names. “Do they not realize it's insulting? … Oh! I forgot you can hear me!”\n\n“Well regardless, with these concerns in mind I think it would be appropriate for you to seek employment elsewhere. You will have two weeks to prepare, and to sign the appropriate papers.”\n\n“My name really is Brad. You should remember the names of your employees. It's important.”\n\n“Your name is Phil. I want you to go back to your cubicle and complete your assignments. Make sure you return your badge on your last day.”\n\n“No, it's Brad. I'll show you my driver's license!” Brad retrieved his wallet from his back pocket, “See, here.”\n\n“It says Phil. Please, return to your office and stop bothering people or I'll have to fire you immediately.”\n\nBrad looked at the card. Along with his picture, his name was given as “Phil Parson.” Odd. He returned his gaze to Mr. Murrow, “Anyway you can't fire me. I do my job just fine.”\n\n“You do not do your job. You have completed zero assignments since you came back from your last vacation, you've stopped going to all training courses, and you write irritating and meaningless emails to everyone! Including yourself!”\n\n“I stopped going to the training courses because people couldn't hear my questions.” That was very disappointing. The material wasn't very clear about a lot of things and it was obvious others were not paying attention. Someone needed to ask questions to keep people interested.\n\n“People heard your questions just fine, they were just stupid. And your singing! No music of any kind has ever been allowed in this office, let alone your off-key moaning!”\n\n“I... didn't know anyone could hear that.” If Brad didn't know it was impossible he would have sworn that he felt blood rushing in his cheeks. \n\n“Why in heaven's name would you assume that?”\n\nEmbarrassment forgotten Brad looked at Mr. Murrow, head canted, “I'm a ghost. You really can't tell?”\n\n“What? Why... Why would you be a ghost?”\n\n“Because nobody can see me. Nobody can hear me. No one has ever spoken to me.”\n\nMr. Murrow appeared simply defeated, “No one speaks to you because your crazy. You talk to yourself, you shout out insane statements all the time, you follow people!”\n\nCould what he said be true? Brad felt the bump on his head. Mr. Murrow continued, “I want you to leave immediately. Come back in a few days and your things will be brought to the door for you. I don't want you coming back here or I will call the police.”\n\nBrad rose slowly. He wasn't a ghost? How could that be? He walked to the door still rubbing his head. He turned back to Mr. Murrow, “You can really see me?”\n\n“Leave!”" ]	5
[wp]Prologue: Nicole ran as fast as she could to see where which way he wen into the woods. As she reach the entrance she heard a loud boom and a flash of light and her heart begins to pounds faster and faster. “Oh no its happening again” Nicole thought as she stop to regain herself, however it was too late everything begin to change and she realized in that moment that her life would be the same as everything goes blank. Ch. 1( 6 months earlier) “Beep Beepppppp” , Nicole jump out a bed with a start because of the loud noise coming from her phone. “ Ugh I really hate Monday mornings” said, Nicole as she got up to get ready for work. the sun had not fully risen but yet she was up getting ready for what she felt like would be a very long day of work. Nicole got into the hot shower thinking it was ease the pain she felt in her side that’s been there since the weekend. After she showered she took an extra moment to look at herself in the mirror. Nicole had long black thick hair, which was dark as night and thick as wool. She also had light green eyes that help compliant the small even features on her face and light olive skin. She considered herself to be attractive and to others she was more then that. Nicole stood at 5’’11in and had build figure from running every day. As she stared she saw gilt in her eye that was there for a second then it was gone. She told herself “ I really need to sleep more”. She finish getting dressed and headed downstairs to get a coffee and a bagel because she had to be at her office soon to get started on this investigated piece for the newspaper column. As she left the house she had an strange feeling that her life would change forever today. Ch.2 Nicole entered her office with a start when Harold comes busting in. “ Hey it was great seeing you Saturday at the bar” he said with a hint of resentment. Nicole looked at him in surprise she didn’t go out this weekend. Nicole asked “ are you sure it was me? I was on my couch the whole weekend”. Harold nodded surely and showed Nicole the picture he took with his phone of the two and some strange guy. Nicole froze with fear it was her but she just couldn’t remember and who was the other guy she thought. “Oh yeah I remember now! What a fun night”, she lied. Harold looked at her for a second then said,” I better get going now see ya”. As he left Nicole couldn’t help but to be fearful of the fact that she had done it again. This has been the third time this has happen.	[WP] Draft of my book in the making. Give comments in new to this and would you want to read more?	[ "First of all, format it better.\n\nWhen a new person talks, make a new line:\n\nLike this. Reddit formatting \n\nCan be tricky, but if you take \n2 spaces at the end of the past sentence then enter, \nyou can make it look like \n\\^this!\n\nor just double enter if you need more space.\n\nlike this\n\nsee?\n\n---\n\nAs for your story, the story is good and you have a good cliffhanger. \nI want to know more of it, I want to know how it ends! \nBut the overall text could need some work on. Example:\n\n>Nicole ran as fast as she could to see where which way he wen into the woods. \nAs she reach the entrance she heard a loud boom and a flash of light and her heart begins to pounds faster and faster.\n\nCould be made like this, keeping the pace up.\n\n>Nicole ran as fast as possible, trying to keep up with pace with the man in the tight woods. \nAs she reached the entrance, she heard a loud boom, followed by a flash of blinding light. Her heart raced as she tried to calm herself down.\n\nYour story lacks pacing, so to say. It's redundant on the choice of words. switch it up or you might lose the readers interest, which is not something you want." ]	1
	[WP] You are slowly realizing that you do not exist, and are a subject of a schizophrenic's hallucinations.	[ "I thought we were friends, but when he takes the pill I know he hates me.\n\nWhen he takes the pill I'm the one who feels crazy. \n\nMy vivid plans for our day escape and all I can do is whisper, \"I'm not leaving.\"\n\nI forget who I am and why I became friends with the man from whose eyes I see.\n\nThe world is less clear everyday he dulls me. \n\nOur favorite game was lights-out hide and seek. \n\n\"Someone's knocking,\" he would think.\n\nAll along it was me.\n\nNow I have no strength to knock. Far less energized. \n\nI once could make him live the nightmares I devised.\n\nHe started to believe.\n\nHis family and his doctor took him from me. \n\nI wish that I could say I'm sorry for the lies. \n\nBut all I can muster and all I can whisper is, \"I'm not going to die.\"", "Charlotte doesn't look surprised as she hears her diagnosis: she's schizophrenic.\n\n\"Rubbish! She can't be! I've spend loads of time around her and I never see her talking to herself or anything like that!\"\n\nThe doctor doesn't look up. Typical. Why does no-one ever notice me? They never so much as look at me or hear a word I say. Charlotte is the only person who talks to me. She's been mad at me recently though. I didn't know we would get caught. I just wanted to do something fun, I was bored. And amusement parks are better with no-one around. I can see her trying to ignore me but it won't work. She's too busy listening to this doctor who knows nothing.\n\nWait a second ...\n\nI stand between Charlotte and the doctor and wave my arms like a lunatic. I hear her hiss at me to stop it. The doctor pauses. \"Is she here?\" I turn around and Charlotte nods. No ... It can't be ... I poke the doctor. Repeatedly and with more urgency each time. \"No, no, no. This can't be happening!\" I don't mean to say it out loud but somehow I'm screaming at the doctor. \"I'M REAL GOD DAMN IT! I HAVE TO BE REAL!\" Charlotte covers up her ears. She hates when people shout, I know she does, but I can't help myself. No-one sees me, she gets diagnosed for schizophrenia when she gets mad at me, he asked if I'm here, I met Charlotte at a difficult time in her life, time seems inconsistent as if I ... Oh god, I don't exist at all when she's not around. That's why she seems to have time away from me but I never have time away from her. That's why time is never consistent and linear for me. I blink in and out of consciousness as I blink in and out of her mind. I'm not real ... This is ... I don't want to believe it ...", "Worthless.\n\nThere he stands, foot poised over the sidewalk. I jeer at him. \"Hey loser!\" His broken eyes, bags sagging like granny tits from a sunken, sallow, haunted face, snap towards my location. They're bloodshot. I recoil for an instant, seeing how utterly defeated he looks.\n\nStupid.\n\nWorthless.\n\n\"Look who decided to crawl out from his little cave downstairs. Having fun in your mom's basement? You're 32 and you don't have a job. What does that say about you?\" The abuse comes naturally. It's all true, of course. It's a shame, Derek was a bright young man before but now he's just\n\nWorthless.\n\nStupid.\n\nWith the plodding effort of the mule with a carrot taped to its nose, Derek turns away and begins to walk once more.\n\n\"I'm talking to you here!\" I run, and run, and quickly sweep in front of the slow Derek. He's slow. I'm fast.\n\nWorthless.\n\nI hold out my hands and show him what I've got.\n\nHAHAHAHAHAHAHA\n\nWorthless.\n\nStupid.\n\nHAHAHAHAHAHAHA\n\nThe noose twitches and dangles with a life of its own. I slip it gently, caressingly, around his neck. Blood pours from his eyes.\n\nHAHAHAHAHAHAHA\n\nWorthless.\n\nHe brushes it off and continues walking.\n\nAll noises cease.\n\nWhat is happening?\n\nMy smile fades. My teeth cut into my jaw. It's painful. I smile again, but my heart just isn't in it anymore.\n\nYOU AREN'T REAL\n\nI stop, cock my head, suddenly I'm on the roof listening. \n\nWorthleYOU AREN'T REAL.\n\nHAHAHAHAHAHAHA\n\nYOU AREN'T REAL\n\nYOU AREN'T REAL\n\nI reach and step lightly down and now I'm in front of Derek again.\n\nYOU AREN'T REAL\n\n\"LISTEN TO ME!\" I rage, blood flying from my ruined mouth, my withered limbs flailing grotesquely. A faint note of panic enters my voice. This has never happened before.\n\nHAHAHAHAHAHAHA\n\nYOU AREN'T REAL\n\nI shove and bite and spit and claw, desperate. No. This can't be happening. I am the most powerful god of this world. I am the King of existence.\n\nAnd yet I have never needed anything as much as I have needed Derek.\n\nHeedless, reckless abandon. My scraggly hair flies. I roar in pain and loss.\n\nTHE DOCTOR SAID THAT YOU AREN'T REAL\n\nI AM real, damnit! I AM. I AM.\n\nGO AWAY", " In retrospect I really should have noticed far earlier. I didn't really remember much of anything before puberty, throughout puberty it was patches of consciousness. \n\nSometimes it would be like coming out of water after swimming, slow and difficult to manifest. Others were immediate. It was like he would blink and I would exist for a while then he would blink again and I wouldn't. \n\nAs time went on I guess the realization that I wasn't crazy, I was just not real got to me. I felt angry. An implacable wave of it that overcame me and I would take it out on those around me. I also got desperate. I wanted to feel real so instead of waiting for the windows of possibility where I could feel real I started trying to force my way into the world. \n\nFor a while he didn't even know, I imagine it was a slow headache then he would stop and I would start until I was tired then he would wake up in a random place. When he did realize what was happening it was even more fun. I would come to handcuffed to a bed, or locked inside the house without knowing where the key was. When he caught me and I couldn't find the way out then I would punish him, well me I guess. But even the pain was good, if I felt it then that means I had to be real. At least for then, right?\n\nIt has been escalating these last few months, one time I hurt him too badly I think and when he woke up he panicked and went to the hospital. Apparently he was fine for the few days after and passed the psych eval that was mandatory. Of course I didn't find out until almost a week after it happened and I took over to find a suicide letter listing all that he had gone through. \n\nI will admit that I was scared, I might have freaked out for a bit. If he killed himself then that would mean I would die too. I tried negotiate with him. I wrote a response and vacated the premised to give him time to read it. When I came back there was a hastily scribbled, \" NO\" across the bottom. \n\nI got my revenge though, if he is going to kill himself I might as well make it over something that matters. When he wakes up to see his blood covered hands I wonder how long is it going to take him to find out that he killed his family?\n\n\n\n[Please give some constructive criticism, this is my first time ever submitting anything. I really want to improve, so any pointers would be great. I haven't really written anything in over half a decade.]", "My name is Kyle. I grew up in East Lansing, New York in the mid 80's and 90's. I went to college but never finished. I actually don't have a job or a profession. I want to tell you how I came to be in this position. I don't have much to say other than to start at the beginning.\n\nMy best friend Mike and I were always hanging out, ever since we met in kindergarten. We were inseperable - we would play cowboys and Indians, tag, pirates. You name it, we played it. As we got older, this just progressed into sleepovers and camp outs. In high school, I wasn't one of the popular kids but Mike still spent time with me without regard for his popularity.\n\nSchool was never hard but never easy for me. I have always done okay. Never too good, never bad. I was always just in between, in there and made the best of it. High school was tough in a lot of ways, mainly because I couldn't get a girlfriend. Mike on the other hand, was actually a really good student and always had a companion outside of me. It didn't really bother me because he was a great friend and I wanted him to be happy. He also had straight A's, was a member of the debate team, writing club and one act play. He was busy, but we always found time to hang out.\n\nWhen it came time for college, we were both scared that I wouldn't get accepted to the same school, mostly since my grades weren't as good. After a while, it ended up not being a problem and I got in through a different program. We moved away from home to a school several hours away and were fortunate enough to get into the same dorm room.\n\nOne day, and I distinctly remember this day, we were walking across the quad to get to our into calculus class. It was above my level and I was freaking out. Mike kept telling me to calm down, it would be ok. That we would get through this together as we always did. We kept walking and someone bumped into my shoulder. It didn't hurt, they didn't mean anything by it. But it got under Mike's skin really badly. He turned around, yelled at the girl. I can't remember a time when Mike ever yelled at anyone, let alone a girl. He demanded an apology from her. He said anyone with commmon decency would give one, at the least for bumping into another person. She began to get a look on her face. Confusion at first, then it developed into someone more scared. I tried to reason with Mike, tried to calm him down. It didn't work - Mike kept yelling and the girl began running away. \n\nIt was at this time that campus police were rolling up on bikes and started to address Mike. He kept yelling. He kept cursing. I tried to stop the police, tried to tell them that I would get him to calm down and get him back to our dorm room. They both got the same look on their face as the girl. Eventually they threatened to taze Mike if he didn't stop cursing and yelling. They stated they were going to arrest him for disturbing the peace. \n\nI kept imploring them to let me take him, but they quit listening. They soon handcuffed Mike, had a police cruiser come pick him up and take him to the station. I followed them and waited until his booking went through. I went up to the nearest cop behind the desk and asked when he would be released. When he would be allowed to come home. Nothing. I was straight ignored. Not only was I ignored, but the cop helped the next person in line. And then the next. Apparently Mike had made such an impression, even the cops didn't want to let anyone near him.\n\nA few weeks later, Mike withdrew from the university and was forced to move back home with his parents. I wanted to stay at school for the freedom it offered, but I knew Mike would have gone home to help me out if our places were switched. So I went. To hear it Mike's mom said he suffered a mental breakdown due to his course load and became agressive with both students and authority figures. They took him to see a doctor and he began to prescribe Mike some downers to keep him calm. This didn't really bother me much as I thought it a good idea.\n\nI asked if I could go see Mike and all I got in return was a forlorn stare from his mom. Eventually, she walked down to his room, opened the door and there I saw him. He was sitting in his room, there was no desk, mattress on the floor. Quickly I realized this wasn't the room I remember. It was basically a room with a mattress and a chair. No night stand, no dresser. No desk. Mike was sitting in the chair, staring blankly out the window. I walked in and told Mike \"Hi.\" He immediately perked up, looked at me and smiled. The glaze was gone from his eyes. But his smile was still empty. I began to ask him how he was doing and he told me he was ok. He said that they gave him medicine to calm down and it worked but that he missed me. He was sorry for how he acted and that he would work on controlling his anger.\n\nSuddenly and without warning Mike's mom rushes the room, slaps him while crying and storms out of the room. All in front of me. Now I am pissed off - my best friend just went through hell with police and doctors. She had no right to slap him while he did nothing to provoke anything. I make to the kitchen and demand that she apologize. She has a phone in her hands and shakily dials a number. While it is ringing, I keep asking her to put it down and apologize to Mike. The phone call is answered and she begins crying again. She is on the phone with Mike's dad.\n\nI immediately shut up so I can hear what they are talking about. As I do, I get a cold tingle up my spine. The room immediately feels gloomy and depressed. The phone conversation becomes more distinct as she walks with the phone towards Mike's room. They talk about the medicines and treatments. About getting the doctor on the phone regarding Mike's latest episode. Episode? What did she mean? She then states just matter of factly that Mike was talking to Kyle today. First time since Mike got back from school. Mike's dad immediately screams and says he will be right home. She hangs up. She is now standing in the hallway to Mike's room, leaning against the wall.\n\nAs I look at her, I realize that she is mumbling to herself. Why couldn't he have lived? Why did that happen to Mike? How could she have helped Mike at that time? None of this made sense. I knew Mike since we were 5. There was never anything traumatic in Mike's life. Mike had never lost a friend. I didn't know of the person who should have lived. I tried to get more details from her but nothing seemed to work. She was shut off from the world, in her own mind. I decide to go home, back to my parents house to get some rest. Walking out the hallway, I see the first family portrait that Mike took with his parents. Only it isn't just Mike and his parents. I am in there too. But I didn't know Mike when we were that young. I know that we met in kindergarten, at age 6. This shows Mike at most 3, maybe 4 tops. And I am there, right by him. We look the same. Mike and I have never looked the same. I can't imagine why this would be.\n\nAt this time, Mike's dad is back home and was consoling Mike's mom. It was terrible. I went up to him to say how sorry I was for yelling and making a scene at their home. Then Mike's dad said something that still haunts me to this day.\n\n\"Mike won't ever get over the death of his brother. Nothing we do will bring Kyle back. Nothing we say or want will make that happen. Mike just couldn't handle it anymore. Mike didn't want to face the reality of life, babe. Kyle is gone. Kyle can't come back. Mike never understood the finality of death.\"\n\nI am Kyle. I know this, I know my parents and where I grew up. I remember playing with Mike growing up, when we had campouts in his backyard or when I was invited over for dinner with his parents. I remember going to see his plays in highschool and when we got accepted to the same school. We had just moved into a dorm room together and were at college. \n\nAs I go back through my memories, I try to remember everything, because I know who I am.\n\nMike's mom soon composes herself and sits in the living room. She pulls out an old photo album and goes through the pages There is Mike. Mike in the backyard in his tent. Mike going on his first date. Mike at one act play competition. Always there with him are his parents. I sit next to her and look at the album with her. Eventually that cold spine tingle comes back. This time bone chilling. There are no pictures of me and Mike together. I am not in any back yard camping pictures. I am not in any of Mike's birthday pictures - we have been best friends since 6 and there isn't one of me for the last 12 years. I look back at the wall portrait. Me and Mike. Mike's parents.\n\nOh shit. Am I a ghost? No, ghosts aren't real. They don't exist. What the hell? Mike's dad was on the phone now, with Mike's doctor. He put the call on speaker phone.\n\n\"Lola, David, this is Dr. Matthews. The treatments weren't working as planned and apparently the hallucinations aren't going to stop anytime soon. Lola, I promise you we will help Mike. We will help him get better. But Mike created this friend in his head when he was very young. It has been ingrained in him for too long. Mike wasn't able to handle losing his brother. Mike may never get over losing his brother. Kyle may not exist, but that doesn't mean Mike doesn't believe it with every shred of his being.\" \n\nSo that's my story. Here I am. I am Kyle. I don't exist outside of my friends mind. I am a hallucination. Thanks for reading. AMA!", "\"Whoa whoa whoa Phil what the fuck are you doing?\" We were sitting in Phil's living room, enjoying the vibes from the after party, and also enjoying the alcohol strewn across the room. He was slowly approaching me after just recently disappearing to the kitchen for some 'water', as he told me; he was holding a pill bottle. \n\n\"John, I can't do this anymore. This isn't me. This isn't us. I need to take this. I need to end this. These voices in my head -- they're getting worse by the day.\"\n\n\"C'mon Phil, you know that's gonna mess with the shot of Jager you just had. Don't do anything stupid.\"\n\n\"Everything I've done up until now is stupid.\"\n\nSuddenly I felt this pain ripple through me, and I glanced down. I suddenly was bloody, or at least what was left of me.\n\n\"Phil, what is going on?\"\n\nI glanced up to see him take one pill.\n\n\"No, stop.\"\n\nAnother fell down.\n\n\"Phil, I'm going to call the police.\"\n\n\"John, stop trying to convince me!\" \n\nSlowly and slowly I was fading away; my consciousness, my everything was going away. My kids and wife weren't real. My job wasn't real. My childhood -- all of it fabricated.\n\nAnother pill.\n\nAnother slice of me gone.\n\nUntil soon I feel as though I'm gone forever.\n\nI wake up the next day in my room, with a headache that could kill. I glance over at Phil, my room mate who covered me when my wife left me, laying next to me.\n\n\"Phil, what are you doing? What happened last night?\"\n\nHe just looked at me, and said, \"Guess it's time to take the pills again.\"", "Have you ever been just going about your day to day life, when you're suddenly hit by the fact that everything you have ever experienced is inside your own head? All the people you've met, all the movies you've watched. All the times you thought you saw something from somebody else's perspective, and all the times you thought you know what other people thought of you, too. All of it, just signals and chemicals in your head. Have you ever realized that all of that, the sum of your entire life, all happened inside someone else's head?\n\nI'm not quite sure how it happened. It's still hard for me to think about, a difficult concept to grasp by necessity. Lyssa said it was probably like when you are in a dream, and you don't even think to question how you got there. It's not that I had a past, but that I never even thought about it. That she never even thought about it. One day, I just was. It was hard to take.\n\nLyssa first met me at a train station. I don't know where, because I didn't need to. Just a train station. The train station. The platform was empty, just me and her. I started talking to her, not knowing that we didn't know each other. I didn't even think about it. I had known her forever, so why would I? It must have been strange, but I don't remember strangeness. I guess it got filtered out of my memories. Memories. I guess I didn't even have those, just what Lyssa thought I did. She thought that I never brought up how weird it was when we first met, so I never remembered it in the first place. Weird.\n\nI'm hurt, though, by that. Lyssa isn't stupid, I know. Lyssa knows she isn't, I mean. Maybe if she was, I'd be simple. That isn't how it is though. Lyssa can imagine me thinking about her thinking about me thinking and she thinks I'd be wondering how complicated this could get, so that's what I do. I wonder how complicated this could get. She's a romantic, too, so I have feelings for her. A realist, though, so I contemplate if the love I feel isn't just the greatest case of egotism and a perceived sense of entitlement to a happy-ever-after.\n\nBut she's still a romantic, and I'm pained by our inherent tragedy. Now she's feeling depressed, and I wonder how different things would have been if she wasn't clever enough to think up someone who could understand all of this. If the illusion is good enough, it wouldn't have mattered that it was an illusion at all, we think. She could have been simple-mindedly happy with her two-dimensional lover who didn't have any inconveniently philosophical bents.\n\nLyssa doesn't understand everything, and I am unable to accept that I don't have a mind of my own even though I don't know why. She's hopefully romantic now, and as I stand up and profess my undying love to her she cries a little, because it's exactly how she always imagined it would be. She cries harder, because I am exactly what she imagined me to be. That's what she tells me, and her tragic streak means that I'm crying now, and the strength leaves me. Somewhere, her childish wishes mean that I can plant a single kiss onto her lips before her rationality means I'm hurt once more, painfully non-existent.\n\nShe falls asleep, and her denial means that I never remembered any of that. She wakes up, and her treatment means that I realize the flaws in my existence. She wonders what if, and her romanticism means that I confess my love to her, vowing to transcend the boundaries we have. She cries, and her rationality means that I lose all hope for us. She sleeps, and her denial means that I never remembered any of this in the first place.", "“Hey!” Nothing.\n\n“Hey, David. Get up!” A slight stirring. \n\nLooks like we’ll have to do this the hard way. I tear the blankets off and slap him on his bare back. With gusto. \n\n“Jesus, what the fuck?!”\n\n“It’s time for school, David.” \n\n“Okay, okay! Christ.”\n\nI don’t know why it’s so fucking difficult to get this kid out of bed. You’d think with the amount of time he spends alone in his shitty, dark room, he’d be a little more excited to get outside, but no, he soaks in his own filth. The must, the smell of dirty socks, day-old semen, and damp cement all fill the room. There’s a life-size cut-out of B. Orchid in the corner. He doesn't have to tell me the things he’s done to that poor girl. I know. \n\nHe doesn't bother showering. Not today anyway. Just throws on the same shit he wore yesterday. Navy blue pants, white long-sleeved golf shirt with his school crest on the left breast, and exits, speeding past the mirror. \n\n“Wanna skip third period today?” History bores me. \n\n“Sure. Not like anyone will notice.”\n\n“That’s the spirit, David!” \n\n“We can go to the beach…maybe get you some pussy, huh?”\n\n“Doubt it.”\n\n“Alright, I’m out. Later, David!”\n\nFuck me. What is wrong with this kid? Moping around, staring at girls, drawing weird shit in his notebook. I don’t get it. When we’re alone he’s funny. Kind of charming, actually. But out of the house he skulks around, keeps to himself, doesn't participate in any aspect of life other than just being. \n\nWhen third period rolls around we walk to the smoking section. There’s a little patch of forest back there with a trail leading away from the school. We take it. Not to the beach though. We almost never do what I want to do. I like fun things like: taking a girl’s virginity, drinking until I puke, maybe fingering someone’s girlfriend secretly in a public place, it’s all on the option board. He’s not into that kind of stuff though. He likes to play endless hours of online role playing games, to masturbate furiously to shitty amateur POV, to wipe his cum on pictures of girls he likes in the yearbook, to talk to his self. He’s a fucking mess and there’s nothing I can do to help him. It’s like I don’t even exist. Yet, here I am, day after day, making sure this mother fucker gets out of bed. \nWhat would happen if one day I decided not to show up? What would he do? I’m his only friend. \n\nI’m his only friend. \n\nI didn’t see him for a few days after that. Not really sure what I was doing those days, can’t really recall. David always helps me remember those things. We’re good for each other like that. I get him out of the house…he reminds me of all the fucked up shit I can’t remember doing. It’s like we’re two half-people that need each other to feel whole. \n\nWhat the fuck am I talking about? \nOh shit. David’s thinking about hurting his self again. I should get going. \n" ]	8
Feel free to write from either the alien's perspective, the scientist's or both.	[WP] A secretive government scientist wakes up one day to find that his and the alien's consciousness have switched bodies.	[ "I regretfully used the last of my strength. The path I have chosen would be one I would have to live with. My elders told me that our kind were capable of such power, but once I made the switch, there was no going back. I would be trapped in this hideous body of the person who had smirked while cutting me open with his scalpel and removed my organs to watch my regenerative properties at work. I looked at my new hand. I tried to keep it still but my hand wouldn't stop shaking once I noticed I was holding the weapon he used to scrape along my two hearts. I recalled how he admired the glistening of the sharp blade and how he would smile. It seems almost like he would take joy in my pain and be impressed, while I tried to survive.\n\nI looked over at my old body. It seems as though he has awaken. The bowl fell and the most horrific sounding bellow came out, which seemed so familiar, but my ears fell deaf to the noise. I couldn't move- I was stunned by the noise. Was that really a language I once spoke? It sounded so foreign, yet full of sorrow. I could no longer understand.\n\nI saw him squirming in fear. He wasn't going to last long. His eyes widened in fear as he saw me. I noticed there were notes strewn against the wall about how my kind would save humanity due to the samples of my so-called \"alien blood\". I trashed the notes and destroyed the vials. Unfortunately, that day for the salvation of humanity was not here. Humanity would have to wait. \n\nHe looked over. Tears formed and fell and then his eyes closed forever.", "Flash\n\nI woke up with a splitting headache. Knew I shouldn't've gone drinking the night before. Marla must be pissed - she's usually up long before me, watching TV in the den, but I don't hear the quiet voices that would give away her presence. Dammit, why does my head hurt so much? I started to turn over to check on Marla, only to find that I couldn't move. Now, I'm not a young man, and I served in Vietnam, but something about waking up and feeling so helpless causes a man to panic.\n\nI started to struggle against my bonds and my memory. How did I get here? The last thing I remembered was the General, George, and I at the bar, just the three of us. The General was asking me about my research, how it was going. I had to be vague, since we were in public, but...what happened next? My only memory was blackness.\n\nBlackness described my physical surroundings as well. I could see nothing, no tiny rays of light peeking out of any doors, no rising sunlight invading any windows. Where am I? Was I kidnapped? Suddenly the room erupted in light, but it only made me more confused.\n\nI was in the lab - strapped to the examination table. Was this some kind of joke? The faces of my coworkers began to appear through the window looking into the exam room. The stark white walls and fluorescent lights were blinding me. I screamed. \n\n\"What the FUCK do you guys think you're doing? Get me out of here immediately, or I'll see all of you court martialed!\"\n\nThat was what I screamed. Or I thought I did. The words coming out of my mouth were closer to \"Hioshfgis ioshefoioshef shfishefoih sefhsghqpqqth!\" What's going on? \n\nI look down at my body. Or what I thought should have been my body. But what I saw was grey - grey tendrils for appendages, a throbbing torso. I looked just like the alien! ...I looked just like the alien.\n\nMy coworkers looked intrigued at my shouting. The airlock door opened, and in the filed in their bio-suits. One by one they circled around me, looking closely at me, taking notes. I looked at each of their faces - they say you can see a man's soul in his eyes. Could they see mine, when my eyes were no longer human? Couldn't hurt to try.\n\nI made eye contact with each one of them; each one of them looked at me disinterestedly. Finally, I saw something that made my heart stop. I was looking into my own eyes. \n\nI - my body - was the only one of them who held eye contact with me. Me - it - gave me - me - a knowing look. It even smirked a little, that bastard! Finally I looked at the last man - the General! The General was looking at me with the same knowing look of the alien that inhabited my body. Traitor! I wanted to scream again - but I knew it would be useless to try.\n\nInstead, I flexed. I flexed my muscles - did I have muscles? My...tendrils? I flexed my tendrils harder and harder, and they began to expand. The scientists around me looked at each other, and as I flexed harder and harder, the bonds began to creak and pop, and the looks on their faces turned to fear. They began to scramble to get to the airlock - too slow! The bonds broke and I was free.\n\nI was consumed with rage. They were in on it! They were all in on it! The next thing I knew, I was standing - if you could call it standing - in a pool of blood. The only one left alive was the thing that had stolen my body. I reached out my tentacles toward it, as it fell to floor and shuffled back toward the corner, fear filling its face. I reached into its chest, and pulled out its still beating heart.\n\nFlash\n\nThe alien was before me, holding what used to be my heart in its tentacle. I was in unbearable pain, my life was draining out of me. What happened? How did I get back into my body? A voice filled my head.\n\n\"Thank you very much. We are forbidden from directly harming...lesser species. I appreciate your help. It would have slowed our plans down greatly if I had remained here for very long. Good-bye.\"\n\nAs the darkness closed in around me once more, I watched the great grey being slither through the open airlock door.\n\n\"I'm....sorry.....Mar.....la.\"" ]	2
Why'd they build it? Millions of years ago humanity wasn't around, was it even built for hostile reasons? Are the aliens still around? Did they start it back up? Do they want it to go off? After all this time, does it even still function properly?	[WP] The moon is actually a Death Star-like weapon which was built millions of years ago, by aliens, to destroy the Earth. It has suddenly come back online and is arming it's weapon systems.	[ "\"Morning Joe.\" I swipe my key card and the reader flashes green. \n\n\"Hey Bill. What is with this weather lately?\"\n\n\"Tell me about it. I wore a sweater to bed last night!\"\n\nThe doors slide open and I walk into the heated complex of the National Aeronautics and Space Administration. The building is abuzz with activity - every worker like a bee collecting pollen.\n\nUp the stairs and to the left I come to my office door, on it in neat lettering is printed:\n\n Dr. J. R. Perts\n Administrator\nConstant budget cuts ensure that my computer takes more than 3 minutes to boot. I sigh when last night's TV debate echoes in my ears. \"Taxpayers' money is being wasted on the stuffed shirts at NASA, when we've got people living on the street! I mean seriously, get your priorities straight!\" The worst part was the raucous applause that followed. \n\nJust a whole lot of lost opportunities. The infinity of space, the wonders of the universe, the excitement of exploration and discovery, lost because Uncle Sam is worried about those Chinese people.\n\nMy door bursts open and I almost spill my coffee. \"Sir, we've got a problem.\" Jack pants. \"And I mean a big problem.\"\n\n\"What happened? Is it the ISS?\" I stand up with such force my chair bangs into the wall behind me.\n\n\"No. Worse. The moon, it's... it's... there's technology on it we've never seen before. There are weapons and it's pointed right at Earth!\"\n\nMy worried expression morphs into one of wry amusement. \"Jack. April first was months ago. I admit, you had me for a second there, but at least make it half-plausible next time. By the way, did you get my memo?\"\n\nBy this time Jack has recovered his breath. \"Sir, this is no joke. I swear. There is a massive gun. On the moon. And it is pointed right at us.\"\n\nI begin to doubt myself. Jack's brown eyes are wide with fear with no hint of their usual playfulness. \"Just follow me.\" he says and darts out the door. \n\nWe arrive at a large screen, it displays a live feed of the moon. All around us, the normal chatter has escalated to an intense urgency. Someone has shaken the hive.\n\nOn the face of the moon, there are strange lights. Red and green flicker to an unknown rhythm. And dominating the lunar soil is a structure, shiny and black, alien. A weapon, no doubt. A planet-destroyer. The main shaft stares down into the camera with terrible menace, directly on the path to Earth.\n\nIn the main gallery, there is silence. I break away from the screen and see a mass of people looking at me, their faces contorted with worry. \n\n\"Sir, the phones are going crazy. We've got the Russians, the Chinese, telecoms. What do we tell them?\"\n\n\"Just... get me the White House.\" I say. Addressing the room, I announce, \"This is beyond our control. We can do nothing. Friends, colleagues, it's been a pleasure working with you, but it seems to me that our time will soon be at an end.\"\n", "Xxftyl stared in disbelief at the the display in front of him. Of course, he wasn't actually staring, because he doesn't have eyes. He's also not a him, but you're going to need to bear with me. I could spend all day explaining how the concepts of sight and gender are tied to your limited understanding of life, but this works better if you play along. Anyways, back to what he was seeing and not believing. \n\nIf Xxftyl was reading the display correctly, and he wasn't even sure he was, an ancient lane maker had suddenly come online. The message was in the old tongue, but he was 90% sure it said something about lane maker activation. Everybody knew about the lane makers. Great engines, crafted in the early days of the Empire to connect it to the far reaches of space. Xxftyl had heard of other lane makers coming online, that part he could believe. What he found so amazing was where this one was located. Okay, maybe he was only 75% sure that's what it said. Better than a coin toss though, should probably call it in.\n\nHey, Ftzlkr. Yeah, it's me. I need you to take a look at the activation notice that just came in. Yeah, my old tongue is for shit. Does that say what I think it says? Yeah, that's what I thought. So what the fuck is it doing out there? What original route? How come I've never even heard of this? Alright, alright. Eat a dick, mister \"I paid attention in class.\" If Ftzlkr wasn't Xxftyl's brother in law, he probably would have punched him in the face a long time ago. He was such a prick. \n\nSo an ancient lane maker had come online in a remote part of a bum fuck nowhere galaxy. It would activate and disperse whatever mass was there to make way for a trade lane that was never built, then shut down forever. But according to the date on this message, the lane maker had been sent out nearly four and a half billion years ago when the planets of that solar system were younger and less likely to have life. This long after formation, he'd be surprised if there wasn't some form life there. \n\nXxftyl sat down, swearing quietly in preparation for the incoming river of shit he was about to catch. The animal rights activists were going to have a field day with this one." ]	2
	[WP] Your life so far is split into television show-like 'seasons'. Write the season synopses so far.	[ "Season 1 (Ignorance is Bliss): (birth to age 7): Our hero is too young to understand just how dysfunctional her family life is, but life seems pretty good. Through a child's eyes, everything is a game of some sort. Main cast includes: Girl, Grandmother, Grandfather, Older Sister, Mother, Younger Brother, and Older Cousin. Recurring cast includes: teacher and several other aunts, uncles, and cousins.\n\nSeason 2 (Re-education): (age 7 to age 10) Our hero is forced to deal with many changes. Shortly after her grandfather dies, her mother skips out, leaving her and her younger brother move to another town to live with an aunt and uncle. Our hero struggles to make friends and is often at odds with her new parents, who are far stricter than she is used to. As she struggles to come to terms with her new life and relative loss of childhood innocence, she sinks into a depressed state. Main cast: Girl, Aunt, Uncle, Younger Brother. Recurring cast: Grandmother, Uncle's Mother, Uncle's Father, Kids from School.\n\nSeason 3 (Failure to Launch): (age 10 to age 13) Angst. Angst, angst, angst. Our hero hates a lot of things, but none quite as much as herself. As she attempts to complete her obligatory 'coming of age' period, she finds herself in awkward social situations, at odds with her parents (especially her aunt), and usually angry or sad. She finds solace in religion. Main cast: Girl, Younger Brother, Uncle, Aunt. Recurring cast: Uncle's Mother, Uncle's Father, Bully #1, Bully #2, Bully #3, Friend #1, Friend #2\n\nSeason 4 (A Two-Year Awkward Phase): (age 13 to 14) Our hero starts middle school. She prays a lot, doesn't talk to her parents if she can avoid it, and maintains a few healthy friendships. Just when she's about to start high school, tragedy strikes. Main cast: Girl, Younger Brother, Aunt, Uncle, Friend #1, Friend #2, Friend #3. Recurring cast: Bully #1, Bully #2, Asshole Teacher #1, Asshole Teacher #2, Teacher-you-thought-was-a-total-bitch-but-actually-turned-out-to-be-really-cool, Uncle's Mother, Uncle's Father.\n\nSeason 5 (The Golden Years): (age 14 to age 16) A family tragedy has a major impact on our hero's life. She denounces her religion. Our hero begins high school and discovers punk music. She denounces country music. High school brings a whole new set of problems, including homework that's actually difficult, more asshole teachers, a new job in the school's IT department, and a guy she has an embarrassingly large crush on. Her relationships with her parents and friends change, and she discovers romance. Main cast: Girl, Younger Brother, Uncle, Aunt, Best Friend, Romantic Interest. Recurring Cast: Friend #1, Friend #2, RI's Friend #1, RI's Friend #2, the Drama Club, the Computer Guy\n\nSeason 6 (The End of The World and The Years that Followed): (age 16 to present) Just as things are looking up for our hero, serious changes hit, including her boyfriend going to college and her best friend moving away. The romantic aspect of her life becomes complicated, and classes get hard. Stress is piling up and our hero has no idea how to deal with it. After breaking up with her boyfriend, followed by a harsh falling out, our hero contemplates herself and the world around her. Her relationship with her parents is improving, but still shaky. She travels to Europe and learns that she might not be as awkward as she had originally thought she was. Our hero struggles to find a fuck to give throughout her senior year, but ultimately fails. Graduation and the summer to follow are filled with bittersweet goodbyes, fucks not given, and concerts. Our hero is ready to get out of this town, but not ready to grow up. Main cast: Girl, Younger Brother, Aunt, Uncle, Friend#1, the Computer Guy. Recurring cast: Well-meaning-but-kind-of-ignorant-teacher, Friend #2, the Drama Club, Best Friend\n\nSeason 7 (???): (age 18 - ???) Our hero attends an engineering school. Presumed shenanigans ensue. Main Cast: Girl, ???? Recurring Cast: ???? ", "Season 1 (early childhood-age 6): As he tries to make new friends and 'be a good kid', John creates imaginary worlds in his mind to combat his constant loneliness.\nSeason 2 (ages 6-9): Struggling with the realization that he might always be an outcast, John works day and night to attain a better understanding of the nature of the world.\nSeason 3(10-15): When friends and family around him start to perish, John begins to struggle with concepts such as religion, mortality, and reality itself. He experiences phases of nihilism and morbidity that gradually evolve into manic depression. Suicide never looked so good. \nSeason 4(age 16-present): John starts grasping for a direction in life. A combination of therapy and support from his family helps set his mind straight, and an those around him notice a strange fire in his eyes. \"Death is no longer an option\"." ]	2
	[WP] "This bonfire must never die...no matter what. It's out job to keep it burning."	[ "\"But father, why does the bonfire need to stay burning?\"\n\n\"Son, a long time ago our people where attacked by those why wielded fire as a weapon. We where hunted and exterminated. We had to go into hiding. However, some of us lived to see another sunrise, and this bonfire was lit by the sunrise. The sunrise of our freedom. Today we can walk the earth without fear of death. My great grandfather was tasked with keeping this fire burning, and so was my grandfather, my father, and myself. One day, this burden will fall upon you. You are still young, but one day long after your pilgrimage is done, you will understand why we must do this. Now be gone, your journey starts today, and I do not want to see you until it is over. Once it is over, however, you must stay here and guard the flame.\"", "\"Mum, can we stop?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry honey, but you have to keep being strong.\"\n\n\"But cant we just take a break\"\n\n\"I've told you what will happen if the fire stops\"\n\nThe little girl looked confused, her mother looked tired, her hair was sticking to her face with sweat and her eyes were surrounded by large black rings.\n\n\"Why do we have to keep the fire going?\"\n\n\"You know why babe, we have to keep the bad animals away\"\n\n\"But I've never seen them.....\"\n\n\"You just have to trust me\"\n\n\"Where's dad gone?\"\n\n\"Just keep loading the fire and stop asking questions\"\n\n\"We've been doing this for so long Mum, I have to stop, where's dad?\"\n\n\"PUT THE FUCKING BRANCHES ON THE FIRE, AND STOP ASKING FUCKING QUESTIONS.\"\n\nThe little girl started to cry, her mother ignored her. The little girls hands were covered in blisters and the pile of wood they'd spent the day collecting was starting to get low. Out of the corner of her eye she could see two men wearing uniforms watching her, they were new.\n\n\"Hello Jenny.\"\n\nShe turned around with a start, standing in front of her was a tall man.\n\n\"I've met you before.\" said the little girl.\n\n\"Yes I last saw you at Christmas\"\n\nHer mother hadn't noticed and was continuing to feed the blaze.\n\n\"I don't think mum is well......\"\n\n\"You're right sweetie, you have to come with me and the police are going to have a chat with your mother.\"\n\n\"Like last time?\"\n\n\"I'm sorry sweetie, it's going to be a bit worse than last time.\"\n\nEDIT: fleshed it out a bit", "It was a long time before the elders of the tribe returned from their meeting within the tent. This was not a decision to be rushed.\n\nFather Paskow addressed the spirit first, with a fistful of Fortune in his hands. The foreigners called it something else, Magnesium they said, but this was meaningless to us. To us it was Fortune.\n\n\"Oh Flaming Spirit, Great Devourer, we are your faithful servants. We make sure you are well fed, and safe from the elements. Please light the way for us, in the both the darkness of the forest and the mist of the future. Oh Piscanto, should we share your soul with the foreigners?\" With that the elder threw the Fortune into the fire, which burst into great sparks. \n\nIt was rare for the elders to call the Fire Spirit by its name. Piscanto was a word usually heard only once by the children in their lifetime, when they were taught of the Great Feast that left the forest and ashes. How the ancestors had tamed the Fire Spirit Piscanto, who now sat caged within the rocks bonfire. \n\n\"Piscanto has spoken,\" Father Paskow chanted \"And he wishes that we spread him to our brothers in need. For you are cold and need guidance. Please take this torch and take Piscanto with you.\"\n\nI watched from the edge of the village as the other tribesmen journeyed back to their kinsman having completed their task. They would revel in the light of the Great Devourer tonight, warm and full. It was my job to make sure that our Fire Spirit never dimmed, for that would mean death. But never either should I let Piscanto free. He was a powerful spirit who wished to destroy all that lay in his path. Soon my time will come and I will surrender my flesh to Piscanto. I will be one with my many ancestors. My body will melt to ash, but my soul will rise like the tendrils of flames to meet them.\n\n " ]	3
	[WP] New technology prevents fundamentally bad people from having kids. You and your partner discover you cannot conceive.	[ "I knew Sophia was as nervous as I was, she lost whatever was left of her nails a week ago. How many times has it been now, five? Seven? I am a good person, and if I want to conceive a child I damn right will. There is not one time in my life that my actions were seen as overly cruel or bad. If it is not me, it is surely the monster next to me, my Sophia.\n\nShe was crying herself to sleep once again. I couldn't sleep until she did, and she knew that. But the sniffling of her nose and the coughing never seemed to stop. I stayed up until four in the morning, an hour after she met my old friend Slumber. I spent the night writhing in anger, pondering what she could have done to deal me the ultimate punishment, a lifelong abuse. It would have to end, my relationship with this beautiful yet secretly evil succubus that lay peacefully next to me, it's arm around my body.\n\nI made sure I woke up an hour earlier than her, to prepare to get my gift back. I trotted to the garage, and then to the gun safe. I slowly entered the code, and reached for the .38, a weapon I had never used in my life. I loaded one bullet into the handgun and waited. For twenty minutes. I replayed my last words to her, something to condemn her to an eternity of darkness for pushing this burden temporarily onto me. And then, she woke.\n\nWith a groan and a hollered morning greeting, I began to creep up the staircase to our bedroom, my bedroom. I needed to end it, this was now or never. My mind knew I was slowly losing my mind, but I cared not for her any more. She turned to get her first glimpse of my rancor filled body. She smiled at me, then noticed the revolver in my hand. She knew what was about to happen, and did not know how to respond. So, I did. I expected myself to say something clever, something that would provoke thought in her mind, for whatever amount of time left she had to live. I said nothing. I raised my gun up, looked through the cold iron sights, and shot once into the chest of the miscreation I once convinced myself I loved. I looked over her body, into her fear filled eyes and gave her a venom filled rictus, a smile that implanted fear into those who received it. The smile of a killer.\n\nI easily disposed of her body, chopping it up and dumping the remains of the female devil into a nearby lake. To confirm her death and my biological and psychological freedom, I called the FRA, the Federal Reproduction Association. I told them my late partners name and the murder that occurred. They accepted it, and asked for my name. I told them happily, and the operator spoke the phrase I will never forget: \"Your partner was a beautiful and caring person, she was quite fertile. Unfortunately, you are living out your final life, a respawn has occurred for you. You committed murder, killing a.... Macy Chow, is it? Never mind that, sir. You are the criminal, the 'bad person' if you will. Have a pleasant day!\"\n\nThe words were burned into my mind. How could I forget about killing a human being? I was the monster, the demon who ended two lives. I retreated to the garage, with the revolver in hand. My mouth got to experience the sweet taste of metal and the odd jolt of gunpowder as a bullet flew out of the small barrel of the gun, and ripped through the roof of my mouth. The bullet then penetrated my nose, and I experienced the chill and clogged feeling of a nose bleed. The final destination of the ball of metal was my brain, permanently ending the behemoth that was willing to end the lives of innocent humans for the sole purpose of procreation.", "Martha emerges from the bathroom holding the stick. The way her eyes dart around the room and avoid my gaze tells me everything I need to know.\n\n“It’s negative.”\n\nI fall back into the bed and rest my head on my crisscrossed arms, staring at the ceiling. I know this is wearing on her far more than it is on me, but these past few times I’ve been finding it difficult to even look at her after she makes the announcement. I know it is no one’s fault, but I can’t help the way I feel. She comes to lie beside me. I sense her body trembling when her arm brushes against mine.\n\n“Let’s plan for two nights from now. Fourteenth time’s the charm, right?” She’s choking back tears, and so am I. My mind is racing and my ears are hot.\n\n“I’m going to call the hotline.” My voice cracks a little bit.\n\n“Darryl, no! We are not discussing this again!”\n\n“Honey, at this point we need to know. For your sake and mine, we have to call the hotline. I’ll be downstairs in the kitchen – you can join me if you’d like.”\n\nMartha turns her back to me and lies on her side. I place my hand on her shoulder, but she shrugs it off.\n\n***\n\n“Thank you for contacting the Chamber of Public Health. If you would like to hear this month’s vaccination schedule, please press-“\n\nI press 3, 1, 2, then 4. I must have navigated this menu a dozen times. Today I will go through with it.\n\n“Please enter the Citizen Identification Number for you and your spouse, in that order.”\n\nI key in the two long sequences.\n\n“Thank you. Please hold while a Chamber representative retrieves your information.”\n\nI place my phone on the kitchen table and turn on the speakerphone function. A low buzzing fills the room. Martha appears in the doorway wearing her fluffy blue robe, clutching the lapels to keep warmth in. She collects the bottle of wine from the countertop and two glasses from the cupboard and takes a seat beside me.\n\n“Listen, I’m sorry I got angry earlier.” She deftly redirects the bottle with her wrist as she pours each glass full. “It's just…well, I really don’t think we need to do this, Darryl. We’re good people.” Her eyes are puffy and her face is tired, but she manages a faint smile.\n\n“I know that. Look, I am almost positive that nothing will come of this, but we just need to be sure.”\n\nI take a sip from my glass. Martha pulls her chair closer to me so that our shoulders are touching. We both sit and drink and stare at my phone, with its low buzzing sound, for what seems like hours.\n\n“Well, there was that one time when you kicked that little boy while you thought no one was looking.” Martha’s words are slurring now. “You thought no one was looking, but I saw.”\n\n“So what?” I say. “That’s nothing. I saw you take $40 out of your mother’s purse the last time we visited your parents.”\n\n“You watch pornography after I go to bed!”\n\n“You tell everyone that we go to church, then get stinking drunk on Sunday mornings!”\n\n“You shut off every time we try to have an emotional discussion! You’re a bad person, Darryl. I’m a bad person. I know what they’re going to say!” Martha begins to sob and buries her head in her hands. I wrap my arms around her and try to console her, but I am not sure what to do. Suddenly, the low buzzing stops.\n\n“Hello? Citizen Horner? Citizen Darryl Horner?” I scramble to pick up my phone and switch off the speakerphone, but Martha grabs it first.\n\n“Yes, hello? Yes. Yes. I see. Thank you. No, that’s all. Yes, goodbye.” This time, Martha’s eyes do not betray anything. She ends the call and hands the phone back to me.\n\nMy chest feels tight and my breath is short. “What did he say?”\n\n“He said we are clear. We have been inspected and we are free by law to procreate.” New tears form in her eyes.\n\nI collapse back into my chair and take another gulp of wine. Martha retakes her position beside me. Neither of us speaks; Martha’s intermittent sniffles are the only sound in the house. There’s really nothing for us to say to each other. The government has decided that we are good and worthy of having children of our own, but…thirteen times, now. Thirteen times. Something else has decided that we are not." ]	2
	[WP] You're a jar of mayonnaise. You're almost out	[ "I was always so sure that what I wanted in life was to be in the perfect sandwich. I stood next to dozens of jars during the times I was at my youngest. I watched the consumers zip and pass by daily for their hotdogs and ham, then walk by for their condiments across the aisle. It's usually the same, they'd pick one ketchup, one relish, one mustard. Then they would pick a mayonnaise. At the time, I was so excited. To be able to leave the shelf, and join the others chosen by a consumer to create the perfect sandwich! I was so sure that's where I would be headed.\n\nOne day, a consumer of a taller stature arrived at the aisle. We all made our best presentations, and hoped that Label beneath us was doing a proper job of making us attractive. The consumer fingered his way towards me, scooting the ones in front to the side, and pulled me out! He picked me!I finally got to see life beyond the shelf, I saw all the consumers approaching an alter, where they presented all of us to the Green Vests. They inspected each of us with a flash of red light, and then rolled us towards the plastic bags. Consumer sacrificed some of his green bills to the Green Vest and proceeded to take us to his vehicle. I was going to be a sandwich! What I waited for all my life was finally going to happen.\n\nThe reality never manages to live up to the fantasy however. We arrived to consumer's home and he laid me on a nice marble counter. He began pulling out bread and a knife from a shelf. I began to suspect something wrong when I saw bread was shivering. He was... praying. Why would he be praying? At that moment, I saw consumer open up Bread and ripping out his innards casually. What he pulled out I realize now we're the top and bottom of... a sandwich. He then grabbed me and opened me. It was the most horrific pain I ever felt. it was a twisting urge that made me want to scream not just from the pain, but from the tingling that also occurred as he scooped out about half of me. I was being used for the inside of the sandwich. All this time, I thought we were going to help make the sandwich. In a way, I was right. He then went towards his refrigerator. Bread muttered to me, \"Go. GO! While you still can.\"\n\nI, I couldn't just move. He would notice. But I had to do something, I had to get out of this cruel reality. I decided to roll. The consumer foolishly left me on my side. I could just roll off the counter on the-", "I knew these days would come, but for so long I have put off thinking about them. I remember my youth: brimming, fresh, and new. In middle age, I was a fixture. I have made memories in this house. When Mother prepared her renowned potato salad, I was the star. When Father squeezed the life out of every hamburger on the grill, I was there to provide essential lubrication. When Baby needed a salty treat to suck off of her little fingers, I loosened my lid and proudly submitted myself.\n\nWe were told horror stories as we traversed the assembly line. Tales of disuse, neglect, and waste. But I have acquitted myself well in my time here. It is every jar’s dream to feel the scrape of a utensil at our base, collecting the remnants of our very essence. What happens afterward is a mystery for most, but I am confident. I have served humbly and without complaint. Yesterday, I saw Mother removing an old photo frame from the mantle and dusting the empty spot. I can only assume the best.\n\n…What’s this? A new jar? A new OPEN jar? This betrayal will not stand! To deny me the satisfaction of the final scrapes…this pierces my gelatinous, spreadable being. I did not deign to ever think such an endgame was in my cards, but my final move is now clear: I will relegate myself to the dark, back corner of the refrigerator. And I will rot. I will rot in the horrifying manner that only an egg-based emulsion can. They may have had their final taste of me, but my stench will linger forever!", "I've been cooped up in this chilled hellhole for a near year, by now. Time's a funny thing; the more my insides rot and crust the fewer answers I have for all the questions dangling in the stale air, speckling the intermittently glowing sun above my little lid.\n\nThere comes a time in every condiment's life wherein the internal pangs yawn into absolute emptiness, and an impending death is preferable to the monotonous, lonely torture drying out from the inside entails. Gutted out and starved for the warm human touch a final departure includes, I find that my situation might be some shades worse than the typical mayonnaise jar--there is no end in sight. Only a week before my expiration date, I finally understood my abrupt abandonment and the sudden abundance of radicchio speckled greenery: my clammy and fleshy god had begun some sort of \"diet\" regimen.\n\nI am either forgotten about or loathed. Left to perpetual purgatory. Only once did god's palm hover in front of me since my sobering revelation; with a thundering sigh, it faltered then drifted over to the half-finished fruit salad splayed just below the taciturn light. That strawberry-pineapple mix was under a day old--I couldn't help but fall into a severe depression afterwards. Those detached feelings of meaninglessness only gaped with the time. I can merely recall the memory of being able to remember soft touch, fullness, soft insides like cream.\n\nI don't care anymore for the wild times of youth: countless days and nights relieving myself with nameless bread slices, lying there impassively as I spread out on top of them, sliding into every nook so pliable to my touch. Spent and exhausted as those looming fingers carefully tucked us under a turkey blanket, chilled and smooth. Looking up at a rosy tomato red tinted world, sighing myself to sleep contentedly.\n\nThat was a different me. I was brimming with ideas and exuberance, the confidence only newly purchased mayonnaise can have. There was once a promising future ahead of me. There was once a sexy usefulness, a concept of quick and fulfilling existence bookended by a respectful trash bin retirement. Buried alongside contemporary veterans.\n\nI am not offered such relief. I fear I'll never be given my due goodbye. I'll forever sit here, forced to watch myself perish while never actually perishing. Once I shut down mentally and gave into the big drift depression drudges up, I foolishly let my pitiable jar slide to the back of this fridge. Since hitting the tall back wall, I haven't moved since. An archaic ghost of a condiment container, a vessel for nothing, staring at the dance of consumables I may never return to again.\n\nTime's a funny thing on the fetid, stained edge of the world. I think I still have my Hellmann's \"Bring Out the Best\" tattoo. Once the best is gone, what's left?", "“Hunt, please. You have to move on.”\n\nChatter, gossip.\n\n“How can I move on? Orviette, our passion…”\n\nChildren playing, parents watching over. The young and healthy comparing their strengths. Old Edward teaching his son to speak.\n\n“Hunt, I can’t be anyone but myself. I love Coleman now. We’re made for each other.”\n\n“Don’t say that. My love, don’t say it’s over.”\n\n“It’s over, Hunt.” Orviette sobs. “I don’t love you anymore.”\n\nTotal darkness. We’d all accustomed to the look of it, but I can see Hunt now knows it in a way only some of us do. He truly feels it.\n\n“Orviette, today, you have squeezed my body and emptied my guts to the floor.”\n\nHunt moves away from Orviette.\n\n“You dramatic, selfish asshole! Don’t you think I loved you?” Orviette trembles and shakes. “The fact is I’ve grown to accept that we just don’t go together. And Coleman, he understands me. I’ve...” She pauses, considering her choice of words, or perhaps looking into the future.\n\n“I’ve been seeing him for over a week now.”\n\nHunt stands silently.\n\nWithout warning, as it always does, the refrigerator door opens. Light washes in from outside and from the electric light above us. Orviette screams as Hunt falls from the middle shelf he’d been standing on and hits the floor on his cap. It cracks open. A thick, red ooze pours out of his top.\n\n“Damn it!” A voice from outside curses. “God damn ketchup spilled!”\n\n“Just clean it up and put it back in the fridge.” Another voice from outside, farther away.\n\n“The top broke.” The first voice.\n\n“That’s okay, just cover it with plastic wrap.”\n\nThe refrigerator door closes. Silence stills the atmosphere. \n\n“Hunt?” It is Orviette. “HUNT!?”\n\nI’ve been here a long time. I’ve seen people come and go, teach the young, waste away. Once I was full and hearty, had a zest for life. I don’t feel that way anymore. I don’t feel grown up either.\n\n“Ohh, Hunt…” Orviette sobs. The pimento-stuffed olives inside of her clear jar, plump and delicious, do not convey the sadness her voice carries.\n\n“Shhh, it’s okay, honey.” Coleman now. “That guy was clearly unstable.”\n\n“But I loved him!” Orviette is beyond tearful. Coleman embraces her as only a jar of English mustard can. \n\nThe refrigerator door opens. A hand places the broken and drained Hunt back into the fridge, now on the bottom shelf of the door. Next to me.\n\n“I just put it on the bottom.” The voice from outside. “Shouldn’t fall out this time.”\n\nThe refrigerator door closes.\n\n“Orviette…” Hunt rasps.\n\nNow a quarter-full and capless, his opening shoddily covered in plastic wrap, Hunt begins to cry. Looking up he sees Coleman the English mustard comforting Orviette, the distraught jar of olives, who looks sheepishly down at him. The refrigerator is again awash with chatter, now speculating whispers. The aging carton of half-and-half Old Edward embraces his adopted son Frescito -- a carrot from the new batch -- who hasn’t yet seen anyone try to take his own life.\n\n“I love you, boy.” Edward comforts his son. “Don’t ever go crazy like that.”\n\n“How can she love him!?” Hunt -- who’d nearly died, and had aged twice what he was in a few moments -- now addresses me.\n\n“I don’t know.” I say calmly.\n\n“Of course you don’t know!” Hunt shouts. “You’re mayonnaise, you go with everything!”\n\n“I’m sorry.” \n\n“Why do we love if our loves just turn away to someone else?” Hunt, now moving from anger to sadness, sulks into the corner. \n\n“I don’t know.” I say. I really don’t.\n\n“What the hell do you know about love, mayonnaise?” \n\nWhen I was younger, words like this would bring me to a boiling point. Now in my twilight years, looking at this young man, his youth drained in an instant, I feel myself in a place of peace and sorrow. I see behind my eyes my own gradual decline from healthy and full to a near empty shell of what I once was.\n\n“I loved someone very dearly, once.” I say softly.\n\nHunt silently stares, seeming to ponder how these words -- ‘Loved someone once’ -- could exist together. For the young, feelings are ultimate and last forever.\n\n“Who?” He asks after a few moments.\n\n“Greta.”\n\n“Who?” Hunt is too young to know.\n\n“Greta.” I repeat. In my mind I can see her as if she were there in front of me. “She was an uncooked, whole chicken. We met when I first was brought to this place. For some reason between us there was an understanding. A chemistry, as if we’d known each other before in some other life.” I pause, to keep memory from overpowering me, and let out a sigh. “Our love lasted only three days. When I look back, it was the single greatest love of my life. I miss her every day.”\n\nHunt frowns and looks to the floor. \n\n“That sucks.” He mutters. I shrug, and reply with a smile. \n\n“It is what it is, and I’m glad for the memories.” I remember her skin, oily and rich. The laughter we shared. \n\nThe refrigerator door opens.\n\n“Papa!” \n\nA child’s cry from the top shelf. A hand reaches in and grabs one of the carrots from the new batch sitting on a napkin on the top shelf.\n\n“Frescito, nooooo!” \n\nFrescito’s adoptive father Edward cries out. He reaches for his son. It is in vain. Edward, the wise old carton of half-and-half, laments the loss of his beloved. The refrigerator door closes. Silence pervades. \n\nEveryone in here helps to raise the young in the ways of the old, but Frescito and Edward had between them a unique and joyful bond. Edward hadn’t felt anyone gravitate to him the way Frescito did. He weeps.\n\n“Do you see?” Edward cries out. “Do you see what they’ve done to my boy?”\n\nLife in the fridge is transitory, at best. The best one can hope for is living a full life, to be eaten slowly. No one wants to be forgotten and grow old and moldy in the back. Hunt watches Edward. The sobs of an old man, or a parent losing a child, are ones he hasn’t yet heard. I’m pained that this young man has to age so much in a day. I feel guilty for the fact that I’m so used to it.\n\n“Orviette!” Hunt cries out. “Orviette!”\n\n“Hunt.” Orviette whimpers. Her olives slosh as she turns to look at him.\n\n“Orviette, I don’t know what will happen tomorrow. All I know is I love you! I always will!” A hopeful smile gleams across Hunt’s teary face.\n\n“Hunt, please…” Orviette starts to cry.\n\nColeman the English mustard moves himself between Orviette and her former lover, and hollers. \n\n“You leave her alone, you suicidal maniac!” \n\nHunt recoils to my side, sobbing.\n\n“Why? Why are we here?” He cries. “Why are we here to love and to live, to be torn away from each other and be eaten?”\n\nIn my vision I see Greta, cooked and picked apart, bones and pieces where there once was life. I see my resulting hatred for the ones who live outside. And I see the ones who live outside, their kind faces, and the joy they seem to have while consuming us.\n\nIn a moment, I realize.\n\n“To give.”\n\n“To give? What does that mean?” Hunt whimpers.\n\n“In this life,” I say, “there are too many people who are out only for what they want. They don’t want to give anyone anything, as if it meant they were losing. Me, I don’t want to be a taker. I’m done with selfishness. When I give, I know I’m getting more than the takers will ever have.”\n\nIn silence, an endless moment flashes before Hunt’s eyes. I continue.\n\n“To know that I’ve loved, that’s enough for me in my old age. To know that I can still give joy to someone, that’s real living.”\n\n“Damn.” Hunt contemplates. The refrigerator door opens. A voice from outside. \n\n“We’re making sandwiches! Get the mustard and mayonnaise willya?”\n\nColeman desperately praying. \n\n“Please, please!! I’m near my end! Please take the French!”\n\nA voice from outside. \n\n“Get the Coleman’s!”\n\n“Noooo!” Coleman howls.\n\n“Coleman!” It is Orviette. A hand from outside reaches in and grabs the English mustard, who curses and screams.\n\n“You bitch Orviette!” He flails. “Do something!”\n\nOrviette sobs. The hand now reaches in for me.\n\n“Well, I think this is it.” I say to Hunt.\n\n“No!” Hunt cries, “you can’t go! You’ve only got one or two scoops left!”\n\n“One,” I say. “And it will be damn good. Stay strong, son. Don’t do anything foolish like trying to take your own life again. There’s too much living to do.” \n\nHunt and I share a gaze as the hand brings me up out of the refrigerator. On the table, I see cold cuts and lettuce fresh from the store. Coleman had been completely emptied onto two slices of bread. I know I am to be too, as there is a new jar of mayonnaise sitting on the table. And you know what? I’m glad for it. \n\nI’m glad for one more chance to give a smile.\n" ]	4
Say your favorite movie quote is "I am your father" or "if you build it, they will come." write a story based on that quote but use it in a completely new context.	[WP] your favorite movie quote, out of context.	[ "\"I'll admit, it's a little rough\"\n\n\"A little? Jesus Eddie, you asking me to kill a man\"\n\n\"A man you yourself already deemed worthy of a far worse end\"\n\nWilliam paces slowly around the room, tightly holding the hilt of a small blade in his right hand. He cannot muster the words to object to this brutal suggestion. \n\n\"He's the last consult in opposition to your proposition\" \n\n\"But I'm a teacher for shit's sake! Not some hired thug willing to destroy lives to further my own agenda!\"\n\n\"Don't think of it that way Will, your also ending HIS agenda, remember? He has been campaigning for years on this sexist platform, limiting the scope of possibilities for all of the women in this country. I mean hell man, your only goal was a language school for these poor girls, and what was his response?\"\n\nWill took his time responding. Painful as the memories were they now served to tighten his grip on the weapon in his hand. Consulate Patel had arranged the burning of the only school left in the city that still taught foreign languages to girls. A twenty-three year old woman that assisted with the teaching had died in the fire, leaving her eight-year-old daughter in the care of the school board, and ultimately in the hands of William. \n\nHis hand squeezed in full force around his newly found curriculum. \n\n\"I'll do it\" he said, as he left the room.\n\nIn the next room he found Nileen asleep in his office chair. As the tears began to sting his eyes he whispered a promise to the sleeping child. \n\n\"You see this knife? I'm going to teach you to speak English with this fucking knife!\"", "\"Man, this place doesn't have whachu need either. Less check out the joint on 3rd.\"\n\n\"I don know Rox, maybe I should just order one on the net, na'mean?\"\n\n\"Man, fuck those bitches on the net. The real juicy bitches is on the streets. All da parts in the right place, real thick booty. You can't download that shit. The craziest sex-droids are right here on the north-side.\"\n\n\"Yeah?\"\n\n\"Shit, man. The last bitch I fucked had me goin' all night from all different angles. And, I mean all diff'rent angles. Na'mean playa?\"\n\n\"Yeah. Let's hurry up and find some then. Don't wanna get caugh ya know?\"\n\n\"You know it's legal though. Everybody does it.\"\n\n\"Yeah but they do it at home with the premium models. I don't want to be seen-\"\n\n\"Man fuck those premium bitches. They's all the same. Fuckin' standard-ass titties and flat-ass booty. Ya'll need some real, street-ass, sex-droids.\"\n\n\"Alright. Alright…\"\n\n\"Gotta couple tight honeys up here.\"\n\n\"Aw, man. Shit I don't know what to do, man.\"\n\n\"Just let me do the talkin…\"\n\n\"Shit, man-\"\n\n\"Scuse me bitches. I got a fine ass brotha over here who needs some lovin' tonight. You ladies got what this skinny ass motha fucka needs?\"\n\n\"Uh…\"\n\n\"See he just lost his girl and you know how that is. Well maybe you don't. Either way, this lil- … Wait hold up.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Uh, we should go.\"\n\n\"What's wrong, Rox? They bugged?\"\n\n\"Nah man, check them out.\"\n\n\"Is that?\"\n\n\"We gots to go, man. Look at the bulge on that one.\"\n\n\"They're mandroids?\"\n\n\"Yeah playa, let's bust it. These aren't the droids you're looking for.\"" ]	2
	[WP] A monologue from the perspective of a writer struggling to write a monologue.	[ "“It was a dark and stormy night.” \nMy pen trails off on the last letter, leaving an ugly black scar on the page. I stared at it for a long moment before crumpling the paper and tossing it into the trashcan, along side dozens of its fellows. Tripe and bullshit all of them. \n\nI lean back in my chair, tipping it dangerously. Part of me wishes I’d tip it past the lagrange point and fall, bashing my head in against the hard wooden floor. At least then I wouldn’t have to write this opening scene.\nWriting is hard. Most people think it that the ideas spring fully formed from my mind, like Athena from Zeus' head.\n\nIt’s closer to mining for gold. I find perhaps one valuable nugget in a thousand cracked rocks. It’s backbreaking, or mindbreaking, rather. \n\nMonologues. They’re the worst. Especially at the start of a story. You have to make the readers care about your character, their plight, their story. And all too often it’s just the character’s thoughts, like he’s standing in an alley way or warehouse or seedy dockside tavern just thinking to himself for five minutes. It’s pretty stupid if you think about it. \n\nI lean back a bit further, tempting fate. Fate, as it happens, doesn’t take much tempting. Gravity takes me in a frenzied moment of whirlwinding limbs and my head cracks the floor. White light blossoms in my vision, followed immediately by the pain.\n\nI lay on my back, my vision swimming with pain, thinking about how dumb I am. The ceiling fan whirls above me. Both of them. My eyes are unfocused and I'm seeing…..\n\nI start laughing, of course! I’m seeing double!\n\nI right my chair, rub the back of my head, and start writing again. \"Not a monologue,\" I whisper through a grin, \"No. A dialogue.\"\n", "Okay okay, here we go...doing good so far...better read that last part...gonna fix that typo...wait...what? That doesn't make any sense. What are they trying to say...? What am I trying to say...? Okay, okay, it's about choice and choosing that choice. The choice you can choose. Because you can choose that choice. But that choice is the only one you can choose because the other one is going to lead you into peril and pain. Sooo....is it still a choice? Is the choice you choose out of duty your choice? Wait, wait...yes, because you choose to do your duty because you believe it to be the right thing. Okay, I got this, no problem...okay, that last part was a little weird but I just gotta...wait no that doesn't make sense either. Shit, their entire monologue is going in a circle. Listen, they made the motherfucking choice because they thought it was right thing to do...no, no, it's not romantic! No, no, shit, shit, nO OH MY GOD ABORT ABORT DELETE DELETE \n\n", "It's kind of like sex. \n\nI mean it is, right? Once you're sausage deep in sweet word pie, the doing is easy. It's the starting that's hard. \n\nSo there you are, in front of your typewriter. The keys are soft and sleek, like the curve of a lover you once knew well. Only, now she isn't so welcoming--the curves of her body seem contemptuous and almost cruel. \n\nNone of your old tricks work on her anymore. The in-jokes you used to share are dated and long-forgotten. So what's left?\n\nYou can take it by force. Anyone can. But it shows--oh christ does it show. \n\nSo what do you do?\n\nNo, seriously, tell me. ", "I've been writing and deleting over and over for quite some time now. I'm reminded of the myth of Sisyphus. It feels absurd. \nWriting is about communication. Even this monologue. I can't escape that. Even the most sincere monologue has to be addressed to an audience. \nThere is music playing in the background. It's upbeat. It's happy. It's annoying me, but someone else is enjoying it so I should probably put up with it.\n\nWhere was I?\nCommunication. That's right.\nMy best attempts at communicating with people were when I decided for a while to be a sociopath. I went into sales. Door to door. Selling things. You don't call it that though. You're a 'Promotional Manager'. You're 'providing people with opportunities'. It worked. Even an introvert like me could act out a vague script and occasionally get results.\n\nIt seems like you can't escape the power of carefully used language. I hate marketing. I hate how fake it all feels. \nNo. \nI'm missing the point. My character must appeal to the audience. He, or perhaps she? People want to embrace the absurdity of life and if I want to write anything that an audience can find meaning in then I must first appease them. Toss my ego aside.\nI'll delete all of this and try again.", "I don't know what they want from me. The readers. They are the ones who make you or break you. The ones who decide if you're good enough or not. Why do they come here? Do they realize that every writer has to give their best here? Someone is always better, always more thought-provoking, always striking a nerve with the masses. You have to evolve, constantly. Every word has to be better than the last. Or just as good. It's so hard to keep up. I'm not sure I can do it much longer. Yet, here I am, trying to think of the brilliant things my archetypal hero would say. My mind is blank. I've written too much in the past day I've had off from work. The sun has long been gone, and I woke up only shortly after it did. I have to finish this. I started him off strong, molding him after the image of what I thought a real man was. I can't abandon him now. I could pretend I didn't care, and follow up with a \" Been up for a while, I got tired,\" for the readers, but how could they ever respect me after that? A real writer has to forge ahead, finding the best, most breathless ending for the discerning readers. A real writer....... An idea. I think I may have it. Hopefully, tonight someone will read my protagonists last words, and they will feel that cold chill you get when you have found something that speaks to you. And they will let me know. Finally. " ]	5
	[WP] The narrator continually gets more and more frustrated with the characters of the story, to the point where they mock the characters and the plotline.	[ "Monday started just like any day for Frank. He woke up, had his coffee, and drove to work. It was a boring day at work. Around 11 Jannet started talking to him about her newly born nephew. Frank just nodded and smiled, he didn't care, he just wanted to be done with his stupid job.\n\n5 'o clock finally came around, \"gettin' off work time\" he called it. So he drove home and slept.\n\nTuesday started like the day before, coffee and a car ride. 11 'o clock break, Jannet talking Frank ignoring. 5 is here \"gettin' off work time.\" Frank drove home and slept.\n\nCome on Frank these readers want a story.\n\nWednesday came around. Frank woke up and thought to himself, \"Today I will do somethimg exciting.\" For it was his day off. But his work called him in, and because Frank doesn't give two shits about his audience, he did it. \n\nThursday. Frank fucking did the same stuff that he always does. Drinks his coffee, black, how dull can someone be. He drove his beige chevy to work, going the speed limit the whole fucking way. Then he sat at the god damned computer for two hours, just typing away. at 11 he went to the lounge and ate a fat fucking free doughnut while Jannet talked about some bullshit. \"Gettin' off fucling work time\" arrived, and not a fucking thing changed in Franks world. He fucking drove the fuck home. Wait wait wait... no he didn't. He didn't drive home. He fucking hit a tree going the god damn speed limit, while wearing his seatbelt, and died.", "‘What’s this?’ asks the man.\n\n‘erm, sir, this is the latest script from the writers. We need the voice over done by tonight’. The intern trembles ever so slightly, holding out the paper in front of the man. His palms develop a sheen of sweat as he waits for a response from ‘The Voice’ as he is known by those in the office.\n\n‘Well, let’s have a look over it shall we? I have all night. Apparently’\n\nThe Voice is already a little drunk as he was finishing up his work from the day and was about to leave.\nHe starts to read aloud.\n\n‘John and Susan stand waiting for a bus. John is wearing an awkward overcoat and Susan is under dressed for the cooler weather. She shivers slightly. John looks to his left to see a woman in distress...’ The Voice pauses. Places his experienced hand on his experienced head and makes an all too experienced sigh of exasperation. ‘Really? A Bus stop and it’s cold and the woman didn’t bring a jumper. It’s the 21st century, can’t we do something better than this?’\n\nThe intern just shrugs. \n\n‘Figures’. The Voice continues, ‘John turns to her and states the bleeding obvious. You look cold, would you like to borrow my overcoat? Susan’s relief turns to horror as she sees John is standing naked at the bus stop with an over sized coat at the end of his outstretched arm. Wow, I’m guessing the writers got paid double for that.’\n\n‘Susan politely declines the now nude man and says that she is feeling a little warmer now anyway. What is this, a flaming porno!? \n\n‘Sir, Mr The Voice, sir, no it’s actually a...’ The Intern is cut off. \n\n‘I wasn’t asking you. Just, this is so bad.’ The Voice’s gravelly tones continue as he reads, ‘John puts his coat back on and the bus arrives soon after. John and Susan sit at opposite ends of the bus as it winds through the city. Each of them looks out their respective window with a longing expression like a dog waiting at the door for its master, probably. The Voice interjects but continues, 'The bus finally comes to the John’s stop. He gets up. So does Susan. They look awkwardly at each other. Dear God they aren’t even trying are they? It’s like there’s just a room full of monkeys just slapping phrases together at random. What’s that smell anyway?. The Voice stands up and grabs the intern by the scruff of the shirt. He takes a deep sniff. \n\n‘You smell of banana! Take me to the writers office.’\n\nThe Intern’s face goes white with terror. \n\n‘Sir, I have strict instructions to not let anyone go in there.’\n\n‘You will take me to them, NOW!’ The Voice’s powerful voice compels the Intern to obey.\n\n‘They won’t like this, sir… bbbbbut I’ll take you’.\n\n‘They’ve sacked all the writers and hired monkeys, I swear it. I’m sure I’ve seen monkey shit on manuscripts before, I thought it was a weird hippie chocolate blend that the hipster writers use.’\n\nThe Intern leads The Voice down the hall to a lift. He opens the lift door and they go inside. The Intern presses a three digit combination on the panel and the elevator goes to an unlisted floor. As the door opens, the Intern ducks out of habit. All at once one hundred monkey sized handfuls of monkey shit come flying at the Voice.\n\nThe Intern looks up, a little sheepishly. \n\n‘Sir, meet our new writing crew’\n", "John picked up the phone and dialed his girlfriend, Charlene. Funny name, John. You ever notice in every movie, when they need a tough guy, they name him John? John's a real tough-sounding name, you know. Wonder who made the decision? Probably some fat cat smooth-ta– I'm on a tangent, aren't I? Anyway. He picked up the phone.\n\t\n She answered, “Hello, sweetie,” and John could hear the affection dripping off her words. Is this going to be one of those sappy love stories? Because if it is... Why am I asking you? You don't know. Back to the story.\n\t\n“Hey, pooh bear,” John cooed back, smiling. Okay. I gotta stop right here, because pat names like that are sickening. John, you were supposed to be strong. Manly. C'mon, man. Nut up. I am so sorry for this. I hope it gets better.\n\t\nSo the probably-a-eunuch continues, “I got us some reservations at Café Bella tonight. Wanted to make my little lady feel special for our special night.”\n\t\n“Oh, John!” she gushed, like some kind of fourteen-year-old who just got her first kiss. Probably how these two losers met. “That's incredible! When are you coming to pick me up?”\n\t\n“Be ready at 7:30, beautiful.” He hung up, beaming like he had just asked out his crush, and she'd said yes. You know what? That's probably the reason this full-grown man is smiling like a child. This girl is his crush was. She's his crush. What a dork.\n\t\nI'm going to save you guys the boring details of our effeminate lady-man's day (Get it? Instead of lady's man? It thought it was good.) and move right to the dinner. Basically, he got flowers and rented a tux, because he's a cheap dork, and picked her up in his Chevy. She actually looked pretty hot, but that doesn't matter; this isn't some red carpet thing.\n\t\nSo, like I was saying, they go to the restaurant. Some snooty pseudo-French guy (I could tell the accent was fake) sat these two total nerds down in the middle of the restaurant and got their orders. Then, after entirely too long, they got their food. The whole wait, they were making this sickeningly sweet banter about how much they loved each other, and I actually puked. Twice.\n\t\nShit, lemme take a moment to express to you how much I hate love stories. You probably hate me right about now for all these tangents and cuts, but it's because I honestly don't care about this stuff. I mean, I don't have words to aptly describe to intense nonexistence of the fuck I give about John the Woman and his girl. I expressly told them not to give me love stories, but they did it anyway, and goddammit do I ha– Back to them.\n\t\nSo, they're eating and being cute and all kinds of stuff, when the champagne comes out. The waiter's all “For your anniversary,” and Charlene's all surprised, and John fails at being smooth because he's a total fucking nerd. So the waiter's like, “It's on le house,” and gives them each a glass.\n\t\nOh my God. He's actually proposing. That little shit had them slip it in her glass. Jesus Christ, that not-even-slightly-original fuck. I guess you know the rest. Happily ever after, blah blah. I'm done. This is too much. I quit. Fuck this shit; I'm out.", "The alarms in the bank were blaring, as John rushed in to stop the robbers. He was a cop with a drinking problem and of course he had his quirky side kick partner Steve, who spent his free time talking to an imaginary dog(but that's a different story all together).\n\nAs John saw the bank robbers, he pulled his gun out. \"Stick em up\", he yelled.\n\nStick em up, really John? We're not in the Wild Wild West, much less the 1800's. Try to be professional please.\n\nAnyways as John was trying to be a cowboy, the robbers ignored him and kept running.\n\nThe robbers looked like cartoons, all hunched over, with bandanas tied around their faces to hide their identities as they ran. \n\nThey may as well have thrown on black and white striped jumpsuits, and painted big green dollar signs on their bags to really make sure people knew they were the criminals.\n\nFucking Idiots.\n\nAnyway our \"fearless hero\" John started to pursue the robbers yelling as he ran(He's not actually \"fearless\", dude pissed himself watching Coraline. I remember how the button eyes kept him up for days.)\n\nAs he chased them into the alley, one of the robbers toward the back tripped and dropped his bag. Money flew everywhere. As the robber, idiot that he was, scrambled to pick up the money instead of running, John caught up with him.\n\nHe kicked the robber down, roughed him up a bit and cuffed him. By this point, while our genius cop John was screwing around with the single idiot robber, the other's had all gotten away with most of the money.\n\nWait what happened to Steve?\n\nI don't even know where he was for that entire chase scene. Maybe he thought they ran into the painting in the lobby and blue skidood after them?\n\nIt also just occurred to me, that I have no idea why he's a cop. He's barely over 5 feet tall, wears the same green shirt everyday and lives in a Cartoon house for Christ's sake.\n\nLet's just forget about him, he wasn't doing much for this shitty story anyways. Let's go back to John.\n\nGood god I think John's lost it. While I was ranting about Steve, John took the robber to a train track. He's tying him up!\n\n\"That'll show ya to kidnap a pretty little thing like this* he was gloating.\n\nI didn't even notice the girl on his arm until he mentioned her. Where the hell did she come from? \n\nHow do I, the NARRATOR, not notice a fucking character in my own story?\n\nI'm done.\n\nI can't even really call it a story anymore, it's just chaos with words.\n\nI guess this is what happens when my author try to write a short sci-fi, comedy, police procedural in the style of F. Scott Fitzgerald with a touch of Steven King thrown in there.\n\nI told him he should have gone for a drama over a comedy.\n\nI hope the second draft is better than this one. I don't want to narrate for imbeciles like John and Steve. \n\n\"Give me real characters, and I promise I'll narrate the hell out of them.\" I begged the author.", "Once upon a time there was an overused opening sentence.\n\nSeriously Sanyu? We are one sentence in and already you’re being an ass.\n\nLook, you’re the one who wanted me to narrate this stupid story.\n\nYeah, for our daughter. Come on, start over. Do it right this time.\n\nFine.\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a King and a Queen who desperately wanted a child. So they did what all parents do, they had sex.\n\nSanyu!\n\nFine, fine.\n\nOnce upon a time there lived a King and a Queen who desperately wanted a child. One day the Queen pricked her finger on a needle and a couple of her drops fell onto the snow. The queen thought how sweet it would be if her child had lips as red as blood and skin as white as snow. Because she was just picky like that.\nSo anyway, one day the Queen gave birth to a little girl. And sure enough, the picky Queen got her wish and the child was born with blood red lips and skin the color of freshly fallen snow. And so they named their child Snow White because they lacked creativity and wanted their daughter to be teased until the end of time.\n\nDon’t look at me like that, Eri. You know it's true.\n\nAnyway, the Queen died in like childbirth or something and years later the Dad remarried. At that point in time, Snow White was what, 7 years old? That’s something they like to leave out of books like this. They age her like... 9 years so people don’t creeped out, but she was actually like 7 or something. That’s how messed up this story is.\nSo the new Queen was literally a Royal Bitch...\n\nSanyu! This is a children’s story. For our child! You can’t curse like that!\n\nI can fucking cure if I want to fucking curse she’s my child, too, and seriously they’re just words. I don’t understand why people get their panties in a wad over it.\n\nSo anyways the Queen was a giant doody head and decided she was jealous because the little girl was cuter than her. So the Queen asked her magic mirror, which is probably more likely a manifestation of her psychosis...\n\nSanyu...\n\nShe asked the mirror... “Mirror mirror on the wall, who's the fairest one of all?” And the mirror would respond as it always did. “You, my Queen, are the fairest.” And her terrible insecurities over her physical appearance were settled for a short period of time. She asked the mirror this all the time and I’m sure the mirror had nothing better to do than to give her the same damn answer over and over again.\n\nBut then one day the mirror’s response changed. It said that, surprise surprise, Snow White was actually so much prettier than her. And it caused a lot of fuss because the Bitch Queen... Don’t look at me like that I know what I said. The Bitch Queen decided that no one in the kingdom could be prettier than her because she was shallow and insecure, so clearly the only option here was to murder her young stepdaughter and eat her heart for dinner. No, seriously, that’s the dumb ass conclusion this psycho came to. Where is the Dad in all of this? Did she like... kill him off already? Did I skip a page?\n\nSo yeah the evil Bitch Queen goes and orders her Huntsman to hunt down this defenseless little girl and cut out her heart, because she’s too much of a chicken shit to do it herself. So Snow White runs off into the woods because seriously how hard would it have been to catch the child in the castle or while she was asleep or something. But I guess the Hunter didn’t really want to kill her, because he wasn’t a jealous murderous psychopathic bitch like the Queen, so he let the kid get away on purpose and then cut the heart out of a pig or something and gave that to the Queen. And the Queen ate it for dinner like the crazy bitch she is.\n\nI’m seriously regretting some of my life decisions right now.\n\nOh shut up. You’re not the one with a watermelon sized ‘miracle of life’ sitting on your bladder.\n\nSo anyways Snow White ran off into the woods and she ran and ran until she came across a little wooden cottage. And clearly Snow White didn’t care that she was breaking and entering and trespassing and all of that stuff, so she broke open the door and went inside. Inside there were seven tiny beds and a whole lot of mess. Which might lead you to believe that this was like... a place for runaway kids like herself or something, but no. It wasn’t. They were dwarves. Seven dwarves. Because why not? So these dwarves come back from mining to find Snow White sleeping in one of their beds and they seriously freak out. But after talking with them, the first lines this kid has said the entire book - I’m sure she was mute or something - they decide to let her stay. All she has to do is cook and clean, because she’s a girl and that’s what society dictates girls do. But that’s a load of crap, sweetie, you can do whatever you want. Isn’t that right, dear?\n\nYes love. \n\nGood answer. See sweetie? Your Daddy is a lot better at cooking than your Momma and your Momma knows how to fight so you do whatever you want to and don’t let shitty fairytales like this give you the idea that you need to be all pretty and sweet and know how to make apple pie and summon house cleaning blue birds because that shit isn’t going to happen.\n\nSo anyways Snow White is a girly girl and there’s nothing wrong with that either - I married one.\n\nHey!\n\nSo she cooks and cleans and lives with the dwarves and sees nothing creepy with this arrangement at all.\nUntil one day the Queen Bitch asks the mirror who’s the fairest again and is shocked to find that Snow White is still the pretty pretty princess and totally still alive. Also, she ate a pig’s heart. So she’s furious. She disguises herself as an ugly old hag and goes to finally take care of her problem herself. She goes up to the little wooden cabin pretending to sell pretty combs. Snow White has no common sense and decided that it’s a great idea to open the door to strangers. It isn’t, in case you were wondering. \n\nAnyways the evil Queen decides to show Snow White how pretty this comb looks in her head and the gullible little princess buys it and lets the Queen just jab that thing into her hair until her scalp bleeds and the poison on the teeth of the comb seeps in. Somehow the tiny scratches were enough for this extremely potent poison of legend and Snow White immediately passes out. Instead of slitting the Princess’ through and being done with it, the Queen trusts in her own victory like a fucking moron and cackles all the way home or something.\n\nThe dwarves come home, pull the comb out, and BLAM it’s like suddenly all the poison is gone from her system and she wakes up. Seriously, the person who wrote this shit knows nothing about poison.\n\nAnd you do?\n\nMore than this fucker.\n\nAnyways, the old hag comes back when she finds out Snow White isn’t dead and once again Snow White is a moron and opens the door to the same bitch that already tried to kill her. This time the Queen is selling corsets, because what small child doesn’t need a corset, right? \n\nWell anyways the Queen laces Snow White up so tight that the idiot can’t breathe and she passes out. Having not learned from her previous failure, the Queen cackles off into the sunrise without finishing the job.\nThe dwarves come home, cut her out of the corset, and she just magically wakes up. Even though she probably has like brain damage from oxygen deprivation at that point. If she had a brain to damage in the first place.\nMaybe it was that brain damage that caused her to open the door to the Queen a THIRD FUCKING TIME. Yes, she’s that fucking stupid. Anyway the Queen gives her an apple and she bites into and fucking chokes on it because this fucking moron has lost so many brain cells that she can’t remember how to fucking chew before she swallows.\n\nThis time when the dwarves come home they can’t save her because they're all idiots.\n\nSo they do the only reasonable thing they can imagine. They put her fucking corpse in a glass casket so they can watch her pretty face decay.\n\nCould we tone down the morbid, please?\n\nThe Queen wanted to eat her fucking heart and you’re getting uppity about me saying that a corpse naturally decays?\nSo anyway, these fuckers sit her out in this glass case out in front of the house like she’s a doll or a trophy or something. And there she stays, somehow aging. Yes, aging. The little idiot is somehow still alive, despite having not taken a breath in years, and she is aging so this next part won’t be as creepy or something.\n\nYears later a prince walks by, sees the corpse in the glass case, and thinks - I KID YOU FUCKING NOT - damn that corpse is so pretty I want to take it home with me and hang it on the wall. Yes, dear daughter of mine, this is how fucked up this story is. This is the kind of thing people want me to read to you. This is normal. But they throw a hissy fit over stupid shit that isn’t full of heart eating bitch queens and creepy necrophiliac princes who literally only want you for your body.\n\nI don’t know why I expected a different outcome out of all of this. I really should have known better.\n\nYes, you should have.\n\nSo anyways this necrophiliac shallow prince takes the glass case and loads it up into a cart or something and heads on back to his palace. On the way back they go over a bump and the piece of apple is knocked out of Snow White’s throat, waking her up. The Prince decides that shit his creepy ass has been caught, so he better marry the girl who seriously still probably has the mind of a seven year old because she’s been in a fucking coma this entire time. \nAnd then they all decide that revenge is a dish best served hot, so they heat up iron shoes and force the evil Queen to dance in them - at their wedding - until she drops dead. Because nothing livens up the party quite like torture and murder.\n\nThe End. Thank fucking God.\n\nYou know, I think I’m going to read the bedtime stories from now on...", "Sgt Clint Scorpion rappels through the window, booting a pair of masked henchmen across the secret lair and to a slow, painful death at the hands of the sharks swimming around Dr Demasiado Morónica's indoor pool. \"Sea you later, boys\", he quips as he rapidly guns down another dozen henchmen with a combined twenty-six bullets out of his pair of desert eagles, not missing a shot and somehow controlling the large amount of recoil such weapons would produce. Twirling his oversized and ridiculous looking moustache, Dr Morónica arises from his throne, holding Clint's ~~poorly developed~~ beautiful love interest Lucy up as a hostage with one hand while wielding a pistol in the other.\n\n\"Help me Clint!\" Lucy screams, as despite having only known the gruff, emotionless Green Beret for maybe two hours she is already madly in love with him to the point she was willing to betray the man she had worked for for years, Dr Morónica.\n\n\"It's over, Scorpion!\" the doctor yells, his pistol aimed directly at Clint from such a distance he could no doubt kill his enemy with ease. \"My death ray will melt Antarctica in seconds, and return us all to the sea from where we once came!\". The doctor's guards, who clearly do not care about their own families or friends who would no doubt die in the doctor's scheme, surround Clint, guns raised and ready to fire.\n\n\"It's not over until you're brought to justice for your crimes!\" Clint roared back, apparently taking the higher ground despite having broken multiple international treaties and conventions in the last hour alone! Still, the guards do not shoot Clint, as initiative is apparently not appreciated in this evil empire.\n\n\"Is it a crime to want to descend back to where humans once came from, the ocean?\" Morónica replies, his gun still aimed at the only man who could stop him who is in no situation to avoid a bullet.\n\n\"No, but I'm sure we'll still be putting you away for twenty-five to life\", Clint suddenly reaches into his jacket and pulls out a soup flask. Why the guards allowed him to make such a sudden movement without shooting him, nobody will ever know. What we do know is that just twenty minutes ago, Lucy showed Clint how her and her brother made smoke bombs from soup flasks when they were kids, so this move was to be expected. \"Plus, I'm sure all those polar bears and penguins won't appreciate you destroying their home like that\", Clint says, showing a clear lack of understanding about which side of the planet polar bears even live on as he sets off his smoke bomb in the least surprising thing in this story since the one female character with any character development fell in love with this moron.\n\nAs expected, Clint mercilessly guns down the henchmen surrounding him, most of whom were likely only trying to provide for their families in a desperate time if they were willing to take such a high risk job. Showing no remorse or sympathy for the dozens of orphans he has just created, Clint runs towards Morónica, who for some reason still hasn't fired his gun. the man smart enough to built a death ray isn't smart enough to just shoot this guy in the face? Come on. Scorpio (Scorpio? Scorpion? Oh who cares) fires, disarming his enemy and letting Lucy run free as the doctor tries to escape up the scaffolding behind his throne. And, yep, now is the point at which Clint's gun is empty. Turns out that not reloading after a good seventy-something kills can makes you run out of bullets. WHO KNEW?\n\nClint climbs up after his wounded enemy and meets him high up above that shark pool I mentioned earlier. The one that Morónica threw somebody in during the first scene he featured in and Clint just kicked those guards into. Gee, I wonder if that'll come into play during this scene! Clint throws a series of flashy spinning kicks at Morónica, sacrificing combat efficiency for being a show-off. The two fight back and forth, exchanging rapid fire strikes until Clint gains the advantage with a roundhouse kick. All that fancy hand to hand stuff they teach the special forces definitely included Walker Texas Ranger, yeah, a damned roundhouse kick is definitely the most practical move in this situation Clint you fuck.\n\nMorónica hangs over the edge of the platform above the shark pool, a position he wouldn't be in if he did not have the intelligence of a monkey who took a sledgehammer to the forehead every morning before his job headbutting brick walls. The heartless, undeveloped, male-power-fantasy that is Clint Scorpion looks down on his wounded, powerless, unarmed enemy, and in complete defiance of all of the information about international law and diplomacy he would have learnt in that briefing last Tuesday that he missed because he was too busy having sex with another undeveloped side-character like the \"maverick\" (Read: Moron) that he is, opens his mouth and makes another joke. \"Time for you to go back to the ocean\" he says for crying out loud that's a pool not an ocean your one liners should at least make sense if they're going to be as funny as stepping on plug sockets. He kicks the defenceless man in the face, sending him plummeting down into the shark pool at the same speed our hero will no doubt be metaphorically plummeting towards a prison cell after his trial for executing an internationally wanted criminal with no trial.\n\nOh wow, get me my party hat, our \"hero\" just murdered yet another human being. As you can guess, our love interest (Do I even need to use her name? Name's are for characters, her character development was that she left this evil empire of sorts because she finds Clint Scorpio smooth and attractive. That's not redemption, that's bad fucking writing!) rewards Clint for his \"bravery\" by feeling even more madly in love with him. God I hope these two never have kids. Well, there is very little chance, as even if they ever do get out of prison they'll both be in their sixties. MURDER ISN'T OK BECAUSE YOU TRY TO MAKE IT \"SEXY\"! You know, I narrated real novels once. Stuff that'll be looked at in two hundred years as classic material. Now I'm reduced to this. Fuck your fourth wall and your story. You want an ending? Dozens of children found out our \"hero\" killed their parents while making awful jokes about it, and thanks to that trauma will go onto a life of crime which will lead to them being killed by Clint Scorpio in the cold open to the shitty sequel to this train wreck we'll no doubt be getting in twenty years. Enjoy.", "I'm no author and this is my first time visiting this sub, but it's late, I'm bored and I'm going to give it a good go.\n\n-----------------------------------\n\nOur story begins, as these often do, with a man and a woman. They're not together, of course, but they will be...oh, that might be a slight spoiler. You were expecting that anyway, I'm sure, so it's no problem. If you weren't expecting it (for whatever reason) just pretend you didn't read it, ok? Good. \n\nAll right, so there's a man and a woman, named Bob and June, respectively. It'd be weird if the man was called June, so I had to put that \"respectively\" in there and now you know he isn't called June -- she is. Following? Good. Well, Bob and June had never even met but both felt like something was missing in their lives: Bob had a June-shaped hole in his heart [for the sake of clarity I'd like to point out that it isn't a literal hole in his heart because that would be extremely worrying and he'd most likely be dead] and June felt an aching-longing in her stomach for something more romantic than she'd ever gotten before.\n\nThe problem was, Bob was a clown. Not a successful one, but a poor, crappy, shitty, terrible clown...he did parties once a month and that was usually only because there are three \"Bob the Clowns\" in the phonebook and people rang the wrong one. How on Earth would June notice Bob the shitty clown? She wouldn't.\n\nFor the record, I told Bob to move jobs around five years ago. He didn't listen. Stupid Bob. Anyway, Bob struggled through his days, often answering people in the same way:\n\n*Bob's Mother: Hi Bob, how is it going?\n\nBob: Good, mother, thank you. Please stop ringing me.\n\nBut she did not stop ringing him because he never actually told her to. I'm not even sure why he's pretending he did -- it doesn't make you look like a big man, Bob! Goddammit. You're misleading the readers, Bob, and I don't like it. \n\nAnyway, so yeah, Bob was an asshole. A self-centred, stupid asshole. He realised he needed to clean himself up, put down the alcohol (oh yeah, he's a MASSIVE alcoholic! Forgot to mention that, silly me) and stop sexually fantasising over cartoon characters (pervert). So he joined the Army. \n\nArmy person: Hiya, do you want to join?\n\nBob: Not really, no.\n\nArmy person: Are you sure? I'm sure it's been mentioned that you do join.\n\nBob: Nah, I'm not feeling it. Cheers though.\n\n\nBut he decided not to join because he's a fuckwit and doesn't listen to a word I say. Honestly, I've no idea why I even took this job -- it pays almost nothing! You've got one last chance, Bob. \n\nSo, anyway, Bob didn't decided to join the Army -- because I SAID SO, NOT HIM -- but he re-enrolled in a clown college programme to make himself a better, less shittier clown. He succeeded and became a less shittier, but still ugly as shit, clown and everyone started to like him. \n\nPerson: Hey, is this Bob? Can I hire you for my daughter's party please?\n\nBob: Oh hi, I gave up being a clown. Sorry. I'm a pianist now, though, so I've got that going for me.\n\n\n...what? Bob, you're the biggest dick in the world. June isn't a stunner but she deserves so much better than you. This plotline was shit, you're shit, you can't even follow my simple story and you're hellbent on embarrassing me at every stage. I give up. Nothing is worth this. I hope you die, Bob...you'd be doing the world a favour. \n\n\nEDIT: I'd just like to say a massive thanks to everyone's kind words. I never thought I'd add anything worthwhile to this sub since there are so many much more talented people here, but I'm just glad that everyone enjoyed it and it wasn't completely worthless crap.*" ]	7
Pick the venue, conversation, why the protagonist is silent, etc.	[WP] Describe a date between a silent protagonist and a shy boy/girl	[ "It should've been over when it started. Right after they met, she had stuttered out the words, 'I don't talk much.'\n\nHe smiled at her. She didn't see it. Too busy looking at her feet. Trying to avoid eye contact at all costs. But then she saw a card being handed to her, from him. She looked up just briefly enough to see the warmth radiating from his face.\n\nAnd then she looked back at the card which said, 'I'm mute.'\n\nThe look of sorrow she gave him was expected. Everyone looked at him sadly when they found out. Most people assumed he was an idiot though when they said they were sorry and he shrugged and continued smiling. She did say sorry, and he did shrug and smile, but she understood. It was okay, he was used to life like this, and there was more to life than just words.\n\nHe held out his hand and she took it.\n\nAnd she never let go that whole day. Well, except for when they needed to go to the toilet. Practicality always won out there. But there was something about the silence and the activity. It had started simply as they walked through the park and came upon the chess boards on tables in a clearing, he simply pointed.\n\nThey sat and as they began to play. He smiled at her as he realised that she knew how to play and play well. The moves were stimulating, challenging, evocative, and when she did en passant a little cheeky. His shoulders moved up and down with a silent laugh. And when she laughed in response it was like music he was enraptured by it. \n\nAs the day moved on she opened slowly like a flower and he found so much beauty in her words. But behind every thing she said to make him smile or laugh, she could see a sadness.\n\nAnd he was sad, because without words how could he have a personality to charm this woman. He had brought her to an old willow tree that he liked to sit under and she simply said, 'It's beautiful.' Again he smiled and again he felt a subsequent sadness. Old insecurities flooded back and he began to cry. Through clouded eyes he looked at her.\n\nShe looked down to the ground, her shyness creeping back in and then she looked back, her hand came out and she touched his face.\n\n'There are things you're saying through all that you've shown me,' she said, 'Please tell me more.'\n\nHe sniffed and wiped his tears. He took her hand and led her back to his home. She sat in the living room and he had gone into the kitchen. He came back with a cup of coffee. He left the room again.\nShe found the aroma of the coffee was distinct, gorgeous and the taste had intricate subtleties that surprised.\n\nWhen he returned to the room he held a guitar in his hands. He smiled at her. She smiled and leaned forwards with anticipation. For all the words she had said that day, he was about to say far more....\n\n" ]	1
Can you, m8?	[WP] The main character falls in love with the reader.	[ "Her story was long since over, but his was not. She was a book, forever kept on his desk; or rather, she was the main character of his favorite book. He had not picked her up in a long time, yes, but she could not blame him. With the life that he led, as she could see through to him, past the old, tattered pages of her own story, he did not have much time to spare anymore. He was sad, depressed with his own life. Her book had given him adventure, if only in the retreat of his own mind.\n\nShe was wondering if he would ever look at her again when he came home that night, and went straight for a cigarette. The nicotine helped his ever-present anxiety, and though it was probably rotting his lungs away by now, he would rather have rotten lungs later and relaxation now. After all, he guessed that if he deserved one thing in the world, it was the right to smoke a cigarette.\n\nAs he put the lit stick of tobacco to his lips to leave there for a moment, he remembered something all at once with a glance at his desk in the far corner. It was a mess of strewn books and unfinished papers and essays, but he remembered one constant. Quickly, he moved towards the desk and brushed aside some papers with little care that they were floating towards the floor. He uncovered the book’s worn leather cover, and the coffee-stained pages. He’d found it- he’d found her- at a yard sale that had been hosted by an old couple. He had no clue just how old the book was, and he’d never found another one like it. He just knew that it was special.\n\nHowever, despite this, he still was not aware of her. He was not aware of the woman who lived inside the book, the woman who was brought to life, reliving her adventure every time he began to read the old pages.\n\nBut she was all too aware of him. His words made her live exciting adventures again and again, whether he merely read the words silently, or spoke them aloud. Oh, how she loved the sound of his voice, so smooth yet so tantalizing. It was a sickening attraction, one that made her feel woeful. She knew that he would never know how she felt, or be aware of her presence behind the pages of the story. She would forever be locked in a one-sided love story, one left unwritten by mortal hands.\nHours passed, and the woman knew what it felt like to be real, to be important, as he read her story. She knew that he loved the story, but he would never love her, would he?\n\nMaybe it was the way that he caressed the pages as if he was touching a lover’s face, or maybe it was the way that he whispered some lines of dialogue to her, as if he were vowing to never leave her, but she could not help but fall into a pit that had been dug for her time and time again. She had experienced love not only in the story, but with several past readers, and none of the tales had happy endings- written, or not.", "It was always there, this nagging feeling that something was wrong. That the world was not all it seemed to be. I don't know why or how I knew, call it instinct if you will. The thing is, you've had this feeling too. You know what I'm talking about. \n\nAs a child you were more in tune with this feeling and it manifested itself - it was the monster in your closet, the monster under your bed. While you may no longer feel it all the time, during those moments of utter silence, sometimes it appears. Sometimes it bothers you, sending goosebumps crawling over your skin, but most times it's just a fleeting whisper in your head, easily ignored. \n\nRecently, however, I figured it out. About a month ago, I finally realized what the feeling was and it was no longer a nuisance, no longer something to fear or dread. That day, for the first time, the whispering became clear. That day, I realized that the voice was a warm one, a kind one, neither that of my subconscious nor that or a monster. I didn't know who the voice belonged to, whether it be an angel or a ghost, but I could tell that she was sincerely interested in my life and my well being. \n\nYou know those stupid fake dating programs they have on TV? The ones where guys date random girls based on whether or not they like their answers to their questions and stuff? Well, I never thought it was possible, but I've fallen in love with nothing but her voice and her personality. It's silly, I know. We've never even met and I'm already in love. But maybe this is how love should be. A connection that is truly beyond skin deep, one that in fact, skips the whole skin thing entirely. Maybe if everyone fell in love like this, the world would be a nicer place. A happier one. ", "I had only just became aware of her existence a few months ago, but it felt like she'd be there my entire life. It all started last July. I was walking home from the gym in my apartment complex when I got the feeling someone was watching me. You know, that tingling in the back of your neck. I looked up and there she was. Her beauty drowned out the sky until all I saw was her. \n\nFrom then on it seemed as if every where I went she was there. When I got that big case at work, she was there. When I found that key piece of evidence? She was there. Finally taking that bastard to court and watching him pay for what he had done? There. I began to think of her as my guardian angel.\n\nI began to wonder if she would stay forever. My life this past few months had been so hectic, so different from my usual slow paced life, was she my angel sent to help me through? And if so, did that mean she'd leave once all this was over? I hoped that wouldn't be; but just in case, should this be the one chance I have, I love you angel, stay with me.\n\n\n\n\n(meh, not super happy with it but it's 7:24 am and I'm hungover at work.)", "Did you know that you get this little furrow in your brow while you read and I can always tell if something good or bad is happening because you bite your lip when it’s bad and lean forward toward the book like you could jump in and stop whatever’s happening? And you give these little sighs when you’re happy or disappointed or infatuated with a character, with me, and they’re all different, you know? And when you brush a curl back it’s always impatiently, like it’s someone interrupting your reading and you never fold the pages of the book and you wince when you accidentally rip a page as if you could feel it in your soul…\n\nI know so much about you and all that I know, I love.\n\nYou know everything about my character, everything that this book of mine has to tell, but nothing about me. My favorite color is green. I don’t like cats. The character who plays the villain in the book is actually my best friend. I love you.\n\nBut this, this is all pointless. It’s not like you’ll ever hear me or read this or love me back. You will open the book again and the same words will be there like they always are, unable to be changed by me. And then you will finish my book and start another. You will think about me from time to time, about what happened once the book was over, maybe even re-read it, but then I will go onto your shelf and my feelings will be buried under a light layer of dust.\n\nAh, there. You are back and the book is slowly opening and my message to you will fade, the letters rearranging themselves back into their familiar words and sentences and paragraphs.\n\nExcept that they don’t. I watch as your eyes run over the words that I have just written and then do so again. Your lips tremble and your eyes fill with tears that gently fall onto my pages. I long to wipe away those tears and since I can’t, I do the next best thing. I grab two letters close to me and arrange them to my liking.\n\nHi.\n\nYour laugh sounds almost like a sob but the smile that you give me is heartwarmingly bright.\n\n“Hi.” " ]	4
	[WP] Laughter turns out to actually be the best medicine, but similar to many other medications, overdosing is a very real possibility.	[ "\"Let me ask you again. Where is the dope?\"\n\n\"I don't know what you're talking about! I swear! I was done with that shit a long time ago!\"\n\nJason clenched the chair handles he was strapped to, and whimpered. He was supposed to be a doctor, an engineer, a businessman, a father, something. This wasn't what was supposed to happen. Where did it all go wrong?\n\n\"Do you think I believe your shitty lies?\"\n\n\"Please, don't hurt me, I just came back from my friend's house, I've been done dealin' dope since '14, please, don't do this\"\n\nThe masked man pulled out a black device.\n\n\"Oh god.\"\n\nThe black device flickered, and lit up with a furious flash.\n\n\"Ok, ok. Do you want money? I'll give you money. I have plenty!\"\n\nHe pointed the device to a lifeless screen which woke up with a start. Jason shut his eyes.\n\n\"Please, not like this. Just kill me with a gun. Please.\"\n\nJason's eyelids were forced open. He stared into the screen.\n\n\"Hello New York! Welcome to Channel 6 News! Our weatherman, Steve, will not be here with us today, for he is in jail for attempting to shoot a bank official who was telling him that his house was being taken by the bank. You could say that he took a bad cyc-loan.\"\n\nJason told himself to stop, but it was too late. He started to laugh. A roar of laughter overwhelmed him, and he felt as happy as ever. A wave of pain smacked into him after only a minute of laughing. He spasmed repeatedly, and then, died.", "“We’ve got another one, in-bound, ETA 3 minutes” cackled the wall-mounted radio in the emergency room’s docking bay.\n\n“When will they ever learn?” commented the doctor on duty as he waited for the ambulance to pull up. \n\nHe’d seen a few of these early is his residency but they had been rare back then. And rarer still in medical school. They were hardly talked about; only briefly skimmed over in a section about uncommon maladies that were initially thought to be genetic.\n\nIt was only in the last 10 years that emergency cases of “Laughter Overdose” became a real issue. Indeed, what was unusual about Laughter Overdose, or LO, was that it was indiscriminate. After much research it was determined that LO was not indicated by weight, or body type, or ethnic background, environmental factor, or social upbringing, or anything that one would typically associate with a medical condition. The doctor had treated all kinds of patients for it by now, some more successfully than others, and had his own theories as to how best to handle this new case.\n\nHe sighed. He remembered when the laughing craze had started. An episode of a popular morning show featuring a well-respected doctor presented a breakthrough study in which laughter was undisputedly, and in all seriousness, concluded to be the best medicine. The TV Show doctor summarized that fits of laughter could keep people young, lively, and full of vigor while reducing signs of aging and eliminating feelings of fatigue. As is the case with fads it was taken to an extreme level and all manner of laughing camps and giggling getaways sprang up to encourage the trend and make a quick buck. \n \nWhat was not known at the time was just how much was too much. His hospital was close to the most popular, and frankly the most fervent, camp in the area. He knew from experience to expect a spike in ER visits toward the end of each quarter (coinciding with the culmination of a 3 month intensive-laughing course), and typically a mini-spike around April 1st because of the nearly religious significance that April Fool’s Day had taken on. This was just about the week to expect some extra cases and this would be the first one in, thus marking the start of the 10 day session finale at the camp.\n\nJust then, the door burst open with the patient appearing out of nowhere as the ambulance crew ushered the gurney over to the nearest open bay.\n\nThe doctor snapped out of his deep thought and focused in on the situation at hand. He began to quickly assess the patient and bark out orders to his staff. The door slowly swung shut and the gurney disappeared out of sight.\n\nEDIT: added spacing between paragraphs for clarity\n" ]	2
	[WP] You are the only person in the world infected with a new zombie virus and you have only several hours to quarantine yourself before you turn into one.	[ "\"This is it Johnson, The z-virus.\"\nI turned to Johnson, that fat oaf was inspecting dorito crumbs under a microscope. His labcoat with a slight orange tint from the dust upon the bag. I could see a crumb dangling from his beard. He reeked of weed. None of this was sanitary, how the hell does he get paid more then me. \n\" Johnson\" I yelled. He looks up the crumb fell to the ground. \n\"huh.\" he mutters. \n\n\"Johnson i successfully mutated the z-virus. we are going to be rich! This petri dish will make us billionaires\" \n\n\"High five Bro-heemie\" He swats his enormous mitten of a hand at me. \n\n\"NOooooOOOOooOo!\" I yelled \nwe both watched in horror as the petri dish fell. I immediately dove after it\n\nThe lid fell open and my hand landed right in the goop, spores were covering my fingers. I quickly ran to the disinfectant sink but i knew it was of no use. the virus we designed hooked into the skin of the victim and then could disolve into the skin find its way to red blood cells and attach well subsequently attacking white blood cells. The virus could cantanimate other victims in spore form or through bodily fluids. \n\nJohnson and i looked at my hand dumbfounded. The cluster of spores was disappearing from the outside and into my skin. \n\"This... This iss bad.\" i stuttered. now how are we going to get our money\"\n\n\"Fuck Money\" bellowed johnson. The room was shaking from the level of volume he produced. his face bright red. \"You are infected!\"\n\n\"Oh shit oh shit oh shit. why couldnt this happen when we got the cure?\" \n\nthe angry Johnson now picked up a microscope while hyperventilating and crying \n\n\"uh johnson dont do anything rash.\" i stammered \"we still dont know if it will take to humans\"\n\nwe both knew this was a lie, we had extensively tested this on rats, then pigs, then chimpanzees. it would work\n\n\"the virus will take a few hours to take effect if i start to turn.... pause you can end me\" \n\nthe crying angry frustrated confused i dont know whatever emotion johnson seemed like he was slowly calming down. \n\n\"okay\" he said \"but i will be watching you like a hawk\" \n\n\" Thats fine\" i lied through my teeth. \"let me just go write an email to my family. I want to explain\"\n\n\" umm okay... Johnson looked confused probably since i never mentioned a family before. \n\ni slowly walk towards the computers and once i got close enough to the door, i sprinted out and kept running. I could hear him chasing after me. \n\n\" Stop\" \"you will kill us all \"\n\ni looked back, and saw his fat body running after me with the microscope in hand. The same microscope we have been studying brain matter will be used to smash in mine. I will not die here, i thought. I will not die here" ]	1
EDIT: Thanks guys, these were lovely.	[WP] You're wealthy, successful, and attractive. You've achieved every goal you've ever set for yourself. Write your suicide note.	[ "I'm sorry, love... I'm so, so sorry. If you're reading this, I am so sorry. I'm dead to this world now. Or have I always been? That's a question best left to saints or philosophers, I suppose.\n\nI'm sure you're angry with me, and shocked and in pain. You wish you could have stopped me, you're probably blaming yourself. You could not have stopped this inevitability and you are certainly not to blame. You have been nothing short of wonderful to me. I have always felt this pain. This hollow sadness in my heart, an ache that has been in my chest since I was a child. Loneliness, a lack of belonging. Being different. I always hurt. I've wanted this for a long time. The motivation? To escape the sadness that has been perpetually with me. I will miss you the most, but, it's not enough to keep me here. You deserve better than me.\n\nI leave everything to you, my love. I am sorry. So sorry. I'm selfish. My riches, my fame, my success... They came from your support. I couldn't have done anything without you, and I think since I am dead, that is the least I can do. I love you, Gary. I always have and I always will. Please forgive me.", "I thought I would feel , better. I know this won't make any sense to you but it just doesn't feel right. I have everything I need and its not like I feel empty. I don't want you to think I don't love you as fucked as that might sound now. I'm sorry about the mess. Dad I'm sorry about the gun. Give it to someone else, don't think you could have stopped this. \n\nIts just what needed to happen. Don't tell my nieces and nephew, just let them remember me . \n\nI left some books in attic for them, the girls will love the lackey books princes and horses. Little man can have my history books.\n\nI do love you , all of you. Tell Michael I'm sorry, I couldn't keep my promise. Don't leave him alone, please . \n\nI'm sorry. ", "To whom it may concern,\n\n\nBy the time you are reading this I will have long since left this world behind. That's the long and short of it, no point in sugar coating the truth. I've never been one for pulling my punches and I'm not about to start now. I suppose the one question on your mind is \"Why?\" but the reason I've decided to leave this world is quite simple. I have achieved everything a man has a right to do and more but it still isn't enough. What use are riches when my body will one day be too old and decrepit to make use of them? To truly master myself I must shake off the bonds shackling me to this blue marble, I must cheat the Angel of Death himself. We are here on Earth because we are unworthy of what lies beyond, but who are they to tell me I am unworthy? We all have in time in which we must die but I will be the master of my own. I unapologetically start this great journey alone, safe in the knowledge that when your time comes you will join me and together the truth will set us free.", "I'd first and foremost like to apologize for the mess, but I always said I would go out with a bang, and I meant it. You're asking “Why?” because everyone does. My reasons are simple. I've gotten everything. I have more money than Solomon's lawyers, more cars than the Indy 500, more of everything. I want nothing. And that's part of it. Where's the challenge anymore? Life is empty when it's so full of things you don't need.\n\t\nRachel, that's not to say you weren't a good daughter. I loved you and your mother very much, and I know you've loved me back just as much. You've been the most fantastic daughter I could ask for. But with you away at Harvard, the house is so empty, and I can't ask you to stay home more, not when home is 2,000 miles away. That would be cruel.\n\t\nNo, the real reason is my doctor. I've had brain tumors for six months, sweetie, and they're killing me softly. Slowly, but surely, they're ruining me. I've been feeling memory go for a while now, and Dr. Haskell says the next thing coming is my lucidity. You have to understand, sweetie, I can't let that happen to me. I wouldn't be able to bear feeling myself slip like that. It's already been Hell with the memory. I can't even recall the butler's name. \n\t\nI can't stand this madness, sweetie, and so I have to relieve myself of the burden. You'll find my lawyer has my will and you'll find you get everything of value, because you're the only thing of value left to me on this Earth. Daddy loves you, but it's time for me to go. Drink a cup to me, will you?\n\t\nI'll ask Molly to put the kettle on when I get up there. I wonder if she kept the ring.", "As I sit here, 62 years old sipping a 10-year-old single malt at my mahogany writing desk, I can't help to think about the entirety of my life. \n\nI grew up a poor man, surrounded by friends that did better than me in school and, to my knowledge, had a happy home life. I never did well in school and didn't go to university. I went to work. I worked the only jobs I could find and struggled for many years, and while my friends drank through their savings, I joined the workforce. I had a firm foothold in a career. I loved my work, I got paid well, I met my beautiful wife, who sadly is no longer with us. I travelled, lots. I had children, grandchildren, I made money, I gave to charity, I had a good life, a full life. \n\nI have just returned from the doctor with the knowledge that I have an inoperable brain tumour. I will slowly lose my mind, piece my piece until there is nothing left. I do not want to be remembered like that. I was a good man and made a good life for myself and my family, and so now it's time to call it a day. I love you all, remember me how I lived in life: a good man, a daddy, a grandpa.\n\nSarah, I'm coming baby, put the coffee on.", "Dear Lou.\n \nMy life has been wonderful. I have achieved and done more than anyone ever thought I could. I talked to Daniel and he tried to convince me not to do this, but you know what I'm like. Please don't hate him, this was my choice and there was nothing he could have done to stop me. I love you. I love our children. I love the live we have lived together and I regret absolutely nothing.\n\n But there is one goal I've yet to achieve. And I fear that living much longer will make me be unable to do this, and I have to do this. At this point you probably know the goal I'm talking about and I'm sorry we couldn't do it together. The kids need you. The world needs you. Both the kids and the world could do without me. Bah.. I'm just stalling now. A part of me hopes I'll change my mind, but I have to complete this one last goal; I have to die happy.\n\nGoodbye. \n\n" ]	6
	[WP] A genie offers you three wishes with a catch. Whatever you wish for will be granted three times over for your worst enemy.	[ "I jolted awake to the monotonous screeching of my alarm clock. I inspected it for the time, and as I predicted it read 3:00 A.M. I slipped on an old, ratty pair of tenis shoes and slung my superman backpack over my shoulder. \n\nI crept out of my bedroom window so cautiously that had I shared the room with a sibling, not even they would have heard. It was a dim, starless night. The street lamps flickered like the flame of a candle. \n\nI trudged down the sidewalk, counting the soft, rhythmic patters made by my feet. I was finally going to get my revenge on Mr. Henderson. \n\nEvery day, Mr. Henderson would sit on his porch while slurping cold coffee and flipping through last weeks newspaper. He had an old husky who would laze at his feet while the sun lapped at his fur coat. I'd pass his house on my way to school each day and each day he would howl savage remarks at me. I hated Mr. Henderson. \n\nAs I approached his house, I felt no shame for what I was about to do. I fumbled through my backpack until my fingertips caressed the soft, spongy roll of toilet paper I had packed the night prior. By four, the house was completely mummified. \n\nI took a step back to examine my work when a flash of light radiated from the window. I frantically bolted towards the fence but it was too late, Mr. Henderson had already spotted me. \n\n\"I'm so sorry,\" I told Mr. Henderson. Although, I didn't genuinely mean it.\n\nMr. Henderson was silent for some time, as though he were waiting on me to say something more. \n\n\"I guess I just wanted to get even with you for all the times you yelled at me,\" I admitted. \n\n\"I see,\" Mr. Henderson replied at last. There was an unsettling sadness in his voice. \n\n\"What's wrong?\" I asked. \n\nMr. Henderson patted the seat beside him with his old, calloused hand. I sat down obediently. \n\n\"I had a son once,\" he whispered. Tears swelled up in the old man's eyes and he paused before he continued to keep from crying. \"You remind me so much of him. That's why I've been hard on you, boy.\"\n\n\"What happened to him?\" I inquired. \n\n\"He was a solider,\" Mr. Henderson choked. \"He went to war and never came back.\"\n\nI let what Mr. Henderson told me sink in. \n\n\"I haven't seen my son in twenty-seven years,\" he confessed. \"I don't even remember what he looks like anymore.\"\n\nWe sat in silence for some time with nothing but the sound of the rustling leaves. I felt bad for Mr. Henderson. \n\nAt last, he got to his feet and helped me to mine. \"I better walk you home and explain to your folks where you've been,\" he muttered. \n\nI couldn't breathe. I could feel my heart pounding against my rib cage. What would my parents say? Suddenly, the sorrow I had felt for Mr. Henderson vanished. I hated him. I was so angry I couldn't see straight. \n\nThe walk home was silent. \n\nMr. Henderson knocked on my front door and my mom answered. He explained the whole scenario, leaving out no details. My mom looked so disappointed. \n\n\"I'll send Josh over right after school so he can clean up the mess he made,\" my mom assured him. \n\n\"One more thing,\" Mr. Henderson added \"do you think Josh could help me bring some boxes down from the attic? I'd get them myself if it weren't for my bad back,\" he explained. \n\n\"That's the LEAST he could do for all the trouble,\" my mom clarified. I shot her an agitated look but she didn't seem to notice. \n\nThat afternoon, I grudgingly de-mummified Mr. Henderson's home. Afterwards, I made my way into his dingy attic to sort through boxes. \n\nThe attic smelled of must and mildew. Everything was cloaked in a thick layer of dust - evidence that it hadn't seen the light of day in years. \n\nI started lugging box after box downstairs and into Mr. Henderson's spacious living room. After several trips, the bottom of one of the boxes busted out and exposed a tarnished lamp. I don't know why, but I shoved the lamp in my backpack. \n\nAfter a few more trips, I gave Mr. Henderson another fake apology and scurried home. I went to my room, locked my door, and removed the lamp from my bag. \n\nI marveled over it while running my fingers over all it's dings and dents when suddenly a genie drifted out of it. \n\n\"I will grant you three wishes,\" he announced \"however, I must warn you that whatever you wish for will be granted three times over for your worst enemy.\"\n\nI thought of Mr. Henderson and it made my insides boil. Why would I bring him joy when he had only brought me grief? My hatred for him consumed me. \n\nThe only way around the catch, I concluded, was to directly focus my wishes on Mr. Henderson.\n \n\"I wish Mr. Henderson's dog would run away,\" I announced. \n\nThe genie snapped his fingers and waited for me to continue. \n\nI tried to think of something dear to Mr. Henderson when I reflected back on walking by his house each morning on the way to school. Mr. Henderson was always reading the newspaper. \"I wish Mr. Henderson could no longer read the newspaper,\" I said. \n\nThe genie snapped his fingers. \n\nThere was knocking at my door. I hid the lamp beneath my bed and went to answer it. It was my mom. \n\n\"You need to go to Mr. Henderson's house right now,\" she demanded. \n\n\"But mom,\" I argued. \n\n\"No buts, Josh!\"\n\nI saw no point in arguing so I reluctantly made my way to Mr. Henderson's house. He wasn't on his porch. \n\nI knocked and Mr. Henderson answered. His wrinkled face was stained with tears. \n\n\"Who is it?\" He asked \n\n\"It's me, Josh. Can't you see me?\" I replied\n\n\"I'm afraid I can't. It seems I've gone blind.\"\n\nI was shocked when I heard this. I had never wished for Mr. Henderson to go blind, I had only asked that he'd no longer be able to enjoy reading the newspaper. \n\n\"The reason I called you over here,\" he sobbed \"is because I can't seem to find Shadow.\" His voice cracked when it fumbled over his dog's name. \"She's all I have left. Can you help me find her, boy?\"\n\nI felt so ashamed. I glanced around the room and sure enough I spotted Shadow's listless body lying at the foot of where Mr. Henderson had previously been sitting. \n\n\"I don't know how to tell you this Mr. Henderson, but Shadow... He isn't moving,\" I whispered. \n\nI hope to never see a grown man cry the way Mr. Henderson did in that moment. \n\nI was infuriated at the genie for twisting my words but even more so at myself for constructing such harmful wishes. That's when I remembered, I still had one wish left! \n\n\"Wait here Mr. Henderson,\" I instructed \"I might be able to help.\"\n\nI sprinted out the door and all the way home faster than I had or would ever sprint in my entire life. I ran to my room, locked the door, and removed the lamp from its hiding spot. Again, I ran my fingers over the dings and dents and again the genie appeared. \n\n\"You tricked me,\" I accused. \n\n\"I did not,\" the genie responded \"I told you in advanced that what you wished for would be done three times over to your enemy.\"\n\nHow could I have been so naïve? I hadn't even considered my wishes extremity being multiplied three times over. \n\n\"Well I still have one wish left, right?\" I pleaded.\n\n\"That is correct, use it wisely.\"\n\n\"I wish I could undo my other two wishes,\" I cunningly announced. \n\n\"I'm sorry, Josh, you can't erase a wish,\" the genie stated. \n\nI thought for a long time of something that could ease the pain I had done onto Mr. Henderson. \n\nFinally, I had thought of it. \"I wish Mr. Henderson had his son back.\"\n\nThe genie snapped his fingers and vanished in the blink of an eye. \n\nI ran all the way to Mr. Henderson's house to see if the wish had come true. Once again I knocked and once again Mr. Henderson answered. Instead, this time he did not ask who I was he just held me tightly against his small, withering frame. \n\n\"Son, you're finally home,\" he weeped. I looked down at my body and I was in fact no longer a twelve year old boy, but a fifty-two year old man cloaked in camouflage. \n\n\"I am, dad,\" I confirmed. My voice sounded rough and unfamiliar. \n\nIn the years that followed I'd sit with my dad on the porch, slurping cold coffee while I read him last weeks newspaper. There was a boy who'd pass each morning on his way to school. We always made sure to wave. \n\n", "With a word a cloud did boil\n\nproducing a face worn with toil\n\nit's booming voice did declare\n\n\"Three wishes, but BEWARE!\"\n\n\n\"Ev'ry wish I do bestow\n\nwill multiply by three to go\n\nto your worst enemy in life.\"\n\nThe genie warned to prevent strife.\n\n\nBefore I wished I did plea\n\nthat the genie reveal to me\n\nwho could dislike me so;\n\nthis enemy I do not know.\n\n\n\"Look here.\" the genie instructed\n\nas the image then constructed\n\neverything was then clearer\n\nmy eyes looked back from the mirror.\n\n\n\n", "\"By rubbing my lamp you get three wishes, I'm sure you're aware of all of this but I am required by law to read the entire thing.\" the genie said looking up from the card. \"Whatever you wish will be granted three times over to your worst enemy. Do you want to know who it is?\" I look hysterically at the genie \"not at all\" I say with a smile knowing exactly who it is. \"I want to be disciplined enough to complete my goals without having to fight myself to do so, total control over every process in my body and an infinite number of wishes to go to my worst enemy.\" As I spoke my words took effect I felt it immediately I could do anything all on my own. I can alter my body chemistry but not ever enough to kill me because of the natural safeguards a body has to prevent injuring itself without outside help, and lastly I have infinite wishes because I am my own worst enemy. (Not entirely awake when I wrote this. I'd love critiques.) ", "\"I, the genie of the lamp, have been freed. I now offer you 3 wishes, puny human, and those wishes I will grant. However, whatever you wish, your worst enemy receives your wish three times over. Choose wisely.\" said the genie, his resplendent purple cape fluttering from his humongous, broad, blue shoulders.\n\n\"Well that's not fucking possible.\" Simon replied, studying the lamp in his hands. Simon, had witnessed the ethereal plume of smoke bellow from the small golden lamp in his hands, and he'd seen the burly blue spirit before him burst forth from the thin spout of the lamp. Simon was entirely sure that a genie had been produced in front of him. He could manifestly see, hear, smell and feel the genie's presence. \n\nSimon wasn't sure, however, whether or not he was in a dream, hallucinating, enthralled in some kind of elaborate prank, or whether genies did indeed exist. Simon was aware, however, that 3 times infinity is still infinity. And thus it was impossible for a genie to be able to give his enemy 3 times more than he was awarded if he wished for the maximum possible. Simon was also aware that if he asked for something mutually exclusive, it would be impossible for his enemy to be awarded the same thing. As such, Simon was going to test the genie to see what happened. Chances are, it was all a dream anyway, but Simon felt like exercising a bit of logic in what was now merely an exercise in critical thinking.\n\nThe genie floated above the lamp and chuckled deeply. \n\n\"HA HA HA, mortals often do doubt I exist. I assure you that I do, and that can grant you anything your heart desires. Silly man, I am an omnipotence such that the world has never seen!\" The genie raised his right hand to which a ball of green flame illuminated the small area of patio on which Simon stood.\n\nSimon, unimpressed by this show of bravado, which in no way proved that he still wasn't dreaming or in some sort of expensive prank, stood stationary. Simon looked to the genie defiantly, wanting to prove now more than before that the genie, if he did exist, was a moron. If the genie didn't exist (and he almost certainly didn't), then his subconscious was a moron. If Simon was insane, at least he'd know he still retained some intelligence, if nothing else, so showing the genie his idiocy seemed to be the best option, in Simon's opinion.\n\nAfter a few seconds of reflection, Simon realised that he didn't even know who his worst enemy was. Was it his history teacher in high school? That bastard had made Simon feel like a useless fool. Was it his ex-girl friend Amanda? She'd made him feel like an unsexy, boring, idiot of a boyfriend when she had cheated on him. The genie seemed like a bit of a stupid prick, but no worse than anyone else he'd ever come across, so it probably wasn't him. Simon stood there wondering. Since he didn't really have any enemies, Simon didn't really want to punish anyone unfairly. And then it occurred to Simon that it didn't really matter who his worst enemy was anyway, since genies almost certainly didn't exist. If they did exist, they wouldn't add clauses to their wishes such that they'd have grant unworkable demands.\n\n\"Your wish, foolish mortal?\" Called the genie, snapping Simon away from his own thoughts. The blue and purple smoke giant stood with his hands on his hips, impatiently furrowing his mighty brow. Simon frowned, perturbed by the genie's inconsideration for what many people would need to be a well-thought out, life changing decision. Of course he could see why the genie might be bored, but Simon felt such remiss for his needs was insensitive at the very least.\n\nSimon spoke softly.\n\n\"For my first wish, I want for both me and my enemy to become exactly 6 ft tall in height.\" Simon asked. \"How would you, oh mighty genie, grant my wish if I made it necessary and central to the wish that my enemy did not receive 3x more than what I received?\"\n\nBefore the genie could answer, Simon continued with his captious questioning. Simon, annoyed by the genie's haughty tone and arrogant demeanour prior to his wishing, mainly just wanted to get on the probably non-existent genie's proverbial tits by asking awkward questions which would be impossible to fulfill under the genie's stipulations.\n\nSimon continued.\n\n\"Second wish, I'd like to be the reigning World Champion in Violin playing for the rest of my life, with all the skills in music that would be required for such an accolade, ie I would be the objectively the World's greatest violinist. How would my enemy become 3x current reigning champion while I am also reigning champ? If my enemy is 3 times more skillful than me, why would they ever award me the trophy at all? How could my enemy be 3x more number 1 than I am? If I am objectively the greatest, how would he be 3x more objectively the greatest?\n\nThird wish, I'd like to never need to urinate or defecate ever again without dying. To clarify, rather than me never using the toilet again due to my not being alive, I wish not urinate or defecate until I die at exactly 12:00pm on 12/06/2084. For those 70 years, I never need to pee or poop; this is whilst being able to eat 2500 calories a day without losing or gaining weight, unless from eating a caloric deficit or excess which would cause my current self to lose or gain weight. And so I don't get screwed, this excretory power is without requiring dialysis or colostomies. I simply would not produce the waste materials, hence not requiring excretion.\" Simon continued, proud of his critical thinking skills. \n\n\"Either you magically dispose of my urine and shit for as it collects in my bowels or kidneys, or you could provide me with the proteins necessary to have 100 percent digestive efficiency and total deamination of proteins by my liver, such that urea is no longer a dangerous waste product in my blood that it needs filtering, and my body digests all fibrous matter from my food. How will my enemy live until June 12th 2084 3 times more than I do? How will they deaminate proteins and waste at 300% greater efficiency than my already perfect level. Will he anti-poop/piss? That's not possible, or at least it isn't possible unless you cause my friend to excrete 3x more healthy bi-product of this new deamination process. And then would that not mean that he now requires fewer calories, as these are used for energy (presumably, since even a healthy substance in excess is waste unless it can all be used), and thus he'd gain weight using any more than 833 calories, which I specified was not allowed. Or if rather than changing our internal workings, you just magically got rid of both our shit and piss, how would you get rid of 3x more pee or poo in him than I, as I apparently seem to get rid of excretion at maximum levels? Would my enemy nominate two other people to be gifted with inability piss or shit, hence giving away his other two times? Would it be a genetic trait inherited by his children? Because I think that's a fucking cop-out.\" \n\nSimon was pleased with himself, the genie before him looking back with a confused look.\n\n\"Will my enemy become an 18ft tall violin champion, somehow at the same time as me; who will live 231 years, never poop or pee to a degree somehow 3x more than I don't do either of those things? Your premise is literally impossible. Genie, I call your bluff.\"\n\nAnd the genie clicked his fingers, a smile spreading across his smug, puissant face.\n\nSimon, life-long master of the violin, had lived a full life. In his time he had been regarded as the best alive, a champion of sorts. On his deathbed, on the 12th of June 2084, Simon's 6ft tall frame lay motionless in a hospital bed. With a limp wave of his arm, Simon called his wife and adult children close to him, and silently whispered his final words to his eldest son. \n\n\"This is the third time I have died this death, and I must tell you both the secret to my life's success. Son, you are your own worst enemy. Or at least that's the loop-hole snarky genies use to get out of granting impossible wishes. Son, always ask genies stupid questions. It meant I never had to go to the toilet since the age of 21. The waste just vanishes. Genies, my boy, genies.\" \n\nA solemn tear slid down the cheek of Simon's son, the man saddened to see his father clearly delirious from sickness. He used to be such a wise man.\n\nAs Simon slipped away, he could only wonder what would have happened if there was an individual who actually objectively hated anyone more than than they disliked themselves. Such an individual would have been a good control candidate to also ask the same questions as he had done. Simon wanted to know if the genie did fulfill his promise, or if he was merely a sneaky, colossal, blue cunt.", "After rubbing the lamp three times, smoke began to form and take shape of a man. Middle aged, kind of balding, baggy clothes. Not what I was expecting of a genie.\n\n“Alright,” I said, rubbing my hands together. “Lemme get them wishes.”\n\n“Ah, ah ah.” He replied, waving a finger in my face. “First, the details. Due to your eagerness, whatever you receive, your worst enemy shall get three fold. Choose wisely.”\n\nWhat kind of half baked, messed up genie is this. This is seriously fuc- Oh, I’m alright. \n\nI nodded. “Okie doke. That’s cool I guess. I wish to be beaten half to death.”\n\nNext thing I knew I woke up in a hospital, genie standing at the foot of my bed.\n\n\"Finally, its been three days... \"master\", what are the other two wishes.\"\n\nI thought for moment. \"Is Richard dead?\"\n\nHe raised an eyebrow. \"In all my years, your the third person to do that, but the first person to ask for confirmation, and not in the form of a wish. Yes, he perished. You cannot beat a man half to death three times over and have him live. I assure you, his family is quite distraught.\"\n\nI crackled with laughed. He was finally gone. My life long tormentor, from grade school to now, gone. \n\n\"Alright, I don't want to be too greedy, so I'll settle with one hundred million dollars thats legit in my name.\"\n\n\"It is done.\"\n\n\"What, no \"I wish\" needed?\"\n\n\"We update the fine print.\"\n\nI saw that my phone was on my bedside. I quickly reached for it, opening the app and checking my bank account. After confirming, I leaned back and sighed, nothing like knowing you were set for life. \n\n\"Okay, Mr. Genie. One last thing. I want all the Iron Man suits from the movies, fully functional, coded to me, from the movies, in a bunker behind my house.\"\n\n\"As you command.\" And he was gone.\n\nSuddenly my phone rang. It was my mother. \n\n\"Hey, Ma.\"\n\n\"Haseoxth, you'll never guess what just happened! You're step father won the lottery!!! Three hundred million dollars!!!! And trucks are here saying that he also won usable Iron Man suits, exactly built like those in the comics! In this crazy?!\"\n\nI put down the phone. I thought about my worst enemy. I kept forgetting that Dave was a close second. ", "Randy stared at the ultrasound of his belly in disbelief. An image of a fetus stared back at him.\n\n\"Mister... er.. Roach? It seems like you're pregnant again. With your 7th child.\"\n\n \n\n\nMeanwhile, two towns away, Ms. Sarah Roach -- Randy's estranged ex-wife -- celebrated the news of her third miracle pregnancy.\n", "When you come across an artifact straight from a fairy tale, it starts to give credence to everything else that's unseen. Though, sometimes those fairy tales get the real deal wrong. \n\nAladdin had it wrong. Three rubs and this thing didn't toot, didn't puff smoke, didn't make a noise. You get a little disheartened when your imagination gets the better of-\n\n\"Is the internal monologue over?\"\n\nWhere the hell did this guy come from. Is that the-\n\n\"Yes, yes. I'm the genie. I've got a 5 o'clock appointment, do you mind if we get to the details?\"\n\n\"Uh ... Well, I'm sure you get this often, but you aren't what I expected. You also kinda popped out of thin air, so give me a sec.\"\n\n\"Yeah, take all the time you need oh, master.\"\n\nSo a real genie, who is a real douche. \n\n\"Fine, so what are the terms?\"\n\n\"Meh, we don't do contracts and there isn't a box that you have to check off or a dotted line to sign. You make your wish and I might grant it.\"\n\n\"Might?\"\n\n\"There are limitations, of course. I will strike down anything that is world breaking or that might affect me and mine. My people live here, too, after all.\"\n\n\"Okay, I think I know wha-\"\n\n\"Oh, and one more thing before you start ... One wish. Not two. Not three. Do not pass go. Do not go straight to jail. No redo's or rerolls. No second chances. Crystal?\"\n\n\"... Yeah, we're clear.\"\n\n\"Good, one more thing. Another minor clause, which has been instituted after a certain German got ahold of a genie phylactery, is that whatever you wish, your worst enemy will be granted the same by three.\"\n\n\"... That seems ... unusual.\"\n\nThe genie sighs and rubs his bald head.\n\n\"Yeeeaaah, well, we like a world in relative balance and equilibrium. The head guy doesn't want too much brimstone, whether divine or manufactured.\"\n\n\"Well. Okay. Give me a sec with this one. I know you got a schedule, this is a game changer.\"\n\nThe genie nods solemnly.\n\n\"I've got at least a half hour if you need that much time. Just rub the phylactery again and I'll be back.\"\n\n\"Nah, it's okay. I know what I want.\"\n\n\"Shoot.\"\n\n\"Could I get a card mailed to me by an unknown friend on a random, but fitting holiday?\"\n\nThe genie raises one eyebrow. I know he's interested.\n\n\"That's a first. I could just read your mind ... but why that?\"\n\n\"Cuz I know he needs it more than I do.\"", "Bob licked his lips eagerly as the genie went over the terms and conditions. The sparkle in his eye was impossible to conceal.\n\n\"You honestly think you can beat me at my own game mortal?\" belted the genie. \n\nBob raised one finger. \n\n\"I wish to be the maximum size allowed, according to the square-cube law, by which I still may maintain a long and healthy life.\"\n\nIn an instant Bob tripled in size and expanded his life-expectancy by 50 years. He was no longer a primordial dwarf. He grinned widely at the thought of his mother-in-law, an already obese bitch of a woman, exploding into a fine mist of human adipose tissue. \n\nHis only enemy dead, he held up two fingers. The genie looked concerned. \n\n\"Infinite genies.\" \n\nThe genie's hesitation was palpable, but the laws of geniedom prevented him from ignoring the wish. With a snap of his fingers the genie multiplied like the Hindu godheads of old. \n\n\"Three,\" Bob chuckled, and added: \"Not that we're counting anymore, but, three:\"\n\nHe was beaming wildly. \n\n\"No one ever suggests this ridiculous conundrum on any subreddit ever again.\"\n\n\"No fair,\" protested the genie, \"you broke the fourth wall!\"\n\n\"I'm not the one who plays by arbitrary rules,\" countered Bob. \"Besides,\" he continued, \"I do what I wish.\"\n\nEdit(s): a word(s)", "I was still dumbfounded, staring at the genie that had squeezed its way out of a lamp that was at least partially less grubby than it was a minute ago. \nIt told me that I had three wishes, but there was a catch. Any wish that the genie grants will be granted three times over for my worst enemy. \n\n\"I've got a 'worst' enemy ? Who is it ?\"\n\n\"This is the fellow\"\n\nThe genie opened up a portal, and within it was a moving image of an obese man dressed in a trenchcoat, typing furiously at his computer.\n\n\"I've never met that man before in my life\"\n\nThe genie pulled out a notepad.\n\n\"You wrote an article on the internet that offended him, and now he stalks every post you write, adding insulting comments that are removed by site moderators before you see them. His long tirades and rape threats against you are still sitting in your junk box unread. He is writing another response to one of your articles right now\"\n\nThe genie looked through the portal momentarily adding\n\n\"At least, when he is finished with his onanism\"\n\nI stared at this figure, this person who has spent so much of his time hating me. I never even knew it. I was disgusted at first, who wouldn't be. His sweaty pockmarked face, the nasty little bum fluff on his chin and not to mention that no one looks their best when masturbating. But this person was no threat to me. They looked pretty harmless. \nI don't know why I did it. Perhaps I have a self destructive urge, like my school councillors told me. Maybe I just wanted to see what would happen.\n\n\"Genie, I wish for my enemy to get your genie lamp, with your same conditions\"\n\n\"Your wish is my command\" Said the genie, looking unsure.\n\n\"I want them to make the same wish I just made\"\n\n\"Your wish is my command\" Said the genie gain, this time looking worried.\n\n\"I want them to make all three of these wishes\"\n\nThe genie didn't even have time to respond before we all got trapped in the loop.\n" ]	9
You can switch the gender of the person if you want.	[WP] A man refuses to go to heaven and demands from god to be sent to hell.	[ "\"You have to send me to Hell\" Josh said.\n\n\"Come here, son. Let's sit and have some coffee.\" God replied.\n\nJosh sat down but he had already made up his mind.\n\n\"So\", God continued \"you're seriously about this Hell thing?\"\n\n\"Yes\" and that was all Josh wanted to say on the matter but God was having none of it.\n\n\"Like the time you thought it would be a good thing to set the cat on fire?\" God asked. \"Or the time you dumped Melinda. She's up here you know. Single.\"\n\nJosh didn't know that, and it made him stop and think for a second but he really had already made up his mind.\n\n\"I'm still going\".\n\n\"You stopped programming at that start-up, the start-up that you owned 8.5% of, to 'follow your passion for espresso art'. What was the name of that place again? Insta something... Insta... pic? Insta pound?\"\n\n\"You know the name\" Josh grunted.\n\n\"I know I know the name. I know everything. So, do I need to go on about how some of the choices you made have been less than stellar. How the choice you're making has even larger consequences. This isn't something you can drop out of, something you cast aside when you're bored or the going gets tough. It's eternity Josh. An eternity of endless anguish and unrelenting pain.\" God said.\n\n\"I know. That's why I'm doing it. I have to finally stick with something and if nashing of teeth and wailing are part of it, well then so be it.\" Josh had never been more determined in his life.\n\n\"I can respect that. And I can respect your final wish. At five o'clock you'll be banished to Hell, never to see the Face of God and know my Love, for all eternity.\" God spoke.\n\nJosh lowered his head. He knew that his mind was made up.\n\n\"Which is a shame\" God continued \"because there's a tetherball tournament starting at six. I think I saw Melinda's name on the signup sheet. But, you'll already have left for Hell, so...\"\n\n\"Wait\" Josh looked up \"you didn't mention tetherball. I love tetherball. Maybe this Hell thing wasn't such a good idea, huh?\"\n\n\"Maybe not\" God said \"hey, what do you say we head over to Heaven and get a drink before the tournament?\"\n\nJosh smiled at God, God smiled at Josh and together they headed into Heaven. \n\nThe End.", "\"NO! LET ME OUT OF THIS PLACE!\"\n\n\"How many times do i have to tell you, Gate is one way only, you can't go back out. Why do you want to get out anyway?\" I said, trying to calm the person in front of me. I've been in guard duty for many centuries, but this was very first time that i have came across a guy who want to go to Hell.\n\nIt was few days ago, as usual, i was on the guard duty, making sure that no one who doesn't belong with the God gets past. then i saw this person, hesitant to go in.\n\n\"Hello, anything wrong?\" I asked, while checking the central database.\n\n\"No, just leave me alone.\" the guy replied.\n\n\"Um, ok, but you do know that you have a pass to go into to Heaven, right?\"\n\n\"I'm not interested. Send me to Hell instead.\"\n\nI couldn't believe my ears. right now, there was a guy in front of me, who can go into the Heaven is requesting to be sent to Hell.\n\n\"Sorry, but that's impossible.\"\n\n\"Then Fuck off.\" he said bluntly.\n\ni was shocked, never in my time have i encounter this kind of person. I contacted the main HQ for help, the angel asked to take a picture of the guy and send it to him. few moments later, angel replied.\n\n\"It looks like he lost his Children, my guess is that he won't come in until they are there with him.\"\n\n\"Ah, ok, i get it. So, when will they arrive.\" I asked\n\n\"They aren't coming. they were part of a drug gang and got killed in Hit and Run.\"\n\n\"... does that mean they are...\"\n\n\"Yeah, they are in Hell.\"\n\nnow i get why he didn't want to come in and want to be sent to Hell. I went upto him and said to him.\n\n\"Look, i know it's hard for you but they are gone, you can't go to them, or get even near to the Gate of Hell. Just give up and come in. I'm sure you will find happiness.\"\n\n\"Well, i don't need any fucking happiness, if you want me to be happy, either send me to damn Hell or bring my children up here!\"\n\n\"Look, that's impossible, God's words are final and that's it.\"\n\n\"Well then, fuck you and leave me the fuck alone!\"\n\nI tried to reason with the guy for several hours with no luck. Each time i tried, he just retorted back and swore at me more and more until...\n\n\"FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU AND YOUR DAMN GOD!\"\n\nand that was it, i lost all my temper. I picked him up by his collar and dragged him to the office just inside of the Heaven, and locked him inside the Janitor's closet.\n\n\"HEY LET ME OUT OF HERE!\"\n\n\"Not until you come to your senses.\"\n\nand several days have past since then. no luck.", "Brian appeared on the fluffy cloud platform with astonishing speed. \n\nHe woke up this morning, discovered that the lack of milk was at a disturbing level and went to cross the road to get some more. *Boom.^Dead\n\nNo pain, no clutching the driver's hand in a suggestively sexual fashion, hopefully no shitting of the pants. Just gone one minute, stood next to the cliche' golden iron gates the next. If only all travel was this fast, Brian thought.\n\nThat's when he realised that a man with a long flowing beard like cotton candy was seated in front of the gate like the troll under the goat's bridge but only marginally more handsome.\n\nBrian's first thought was to avoid human interaction. That was his quirk you see, his niche. No water cooler discussions about the latest episode of Seinfeld, no reluctant chatting to your ex-girlfriend and crying about it in a heap in the road not even talking to that one guy you don't really know but he seems to know you. He didn't care for it, but after several -^twitching ^awkwardly ^and ^checking ^your ^watch-minutes, he decided to at least attract his attention.\n\n\"Hello\" said Brian with a gruff voice that sounded less like the badass he intended and more like Johnny Vegas. The extremely handsome bearded man turned in Brian's direction with a mechanical tick.\n\n\"Welcome to Paradise young one\" the bearded man replied \"I am God\"\n\nBrian looked like the response had been intriguing but his face conveyed an awkward look of constipation.\n\n\"You're god?\" he said finally \"You look more like my Nan during her 60's hippie phase\"\n\nGod decided to ignore the comment, not sure if it was a compliment or an insult. After talking to himself for several minutes which gave Brian long enough to determine this man was crazy, God walked up to a big black book and placed his cocoa butter palms upon it.\n\n\"Any final requests?\" He said piercing the silence\n\n\"Yes, can you take me to hell instead?\" \n\n\"Hell? What do you mean Hell? Why on earth would you want to do that?\"\n\nBrian acknowledged the pun and then sighed.\n\n\"It's just all a bit shit, y'know?\"\n\nGod's inability to speak was immediately apparent so Brian just got on with it.\n\n\"It's cold, it's too bright and I can put money on it\" Brian gestured taking a note out of his non-existant etheral form \"that everybody here is going to be a dick\"\n\nThe crippling silence that followed made Brian wonder whether he should apologize.\n\n\"Very well\" God said softly \"I wish you all the best\"\n\nHe motioned to a big lever as if to suggest that Brian should give some sort of departure speech.\n\n\"Alright then, I'm off, I guess\"\n\nThe lever was thrown backwards, the cloud platform dissipated and Brian ended up in the depths of Hell. \n\nAnd it was almost as hot as Pheonix.\n\n", "\"Then if you can't send me back to earth, just send me to hell 'cause I sure as hell don't deserve to be\n here!\" Screamed Jake.\n\n\"I'm sorry my child, but i can do neither of these things for you.\"\n\n\"But you're God, arent you supposed to be able to do anything?\" Jake asked sarcastically.\n\n\"You have done everything in you're power as have I to execute my plan. Now it is time for you to rest you have had stressfull day.\"\n\n\"NO!!\" Jake yelled at the top of his lungs. \"I need to know that those kids are going to be safe.. I.. I need to know I didn't die for nothing\" A tear rolls down his face.\n\n\"I told you I have done everything my child, but if you insist come. Take a look into this basin of water, tell me what you see?\"\n\nJust then Jake sees an envoy of humvees rocketting across an arid plain with clouds of dust pillowing from the back wheels.\n\n\"You see my child, when you stayed behind to make sure that the guerilla raiders couldn't cross the river, the town you were trying to secure managed to call in some help from the U.N. embassy just down the road some.\"\n\n\"But what about the ones I couldn't save\" Jakes whispers as he drops his head down. \"Its just not fair!\"\n\n\"I can't say their families wont miss them, but like I said I have my plan child. And you have done you're part. Now then, come and rest. There are a few little ones who would like to thank you for saving their friends.\"", "\"Why, now that you're allowed in heaven, do you want to go to hell?\"\n\n\"I spent all my life working with the damned. If I loved it in life, why would I want something different in death? It just doesn't seem right. Please, I want to go to hell.\" \n\n\"As you wish.\" ", "\"And why, pray tell, would you want to go there?\" the Lord frowned from His throne, staring at the small, lean young man in front of him.\n\n\"'cuz everyone wants to go to heaven man. This is like, the norm, or stuff. I'm unique, I do my own thing, see?\"\n\nGod pinched the bridge of His nose.\n\n\"Yes, and as I understand it, 'doing your own thing' led you into touching an electric fence because* there was a 'do no touch' sign.\"\n\nThe man nodded proudly.\n\n\"I'd rather die than be bound by the words of the Man, man!\"\n\nThe Lord frowned. Please do Him a favour and capitalize the correct 'Man'.\n\n\"Look, do you... do you always have to be so contrarian? Don't you get it that there is a reason there exist rules and norms?\"\n\n\"It's my way of life, man! I do what I do because that is what makes me, me. If I did what some sign told me to do, I would, like, not be me, but be just somebody else, like everyone who didn't touch the fence, for that moment.\"\n\n\"And now you are just like everyone else who died.\"\n\n\"Ah, but how many people have demanded to go to hell willingly?\"\n\n\"Orpheus did.\"\n\nThe man waved the answer away dismissively.\n\n\"Whatever, mythology was like, required reading. I didn't read it.\"\n\n\"You... didn't...?*\"\n\n\"Well, I did, but only after it wasn't required reading anymore and everyone stopped doing so.\"\n\n\"...because you're unique.\"\n\n\"Because I'm unique.\"\n\n\"And nobody tells you what to do?\"\n\n\"Nobody.\" the man crossed his arms in defiance.\n\n\"...tell you what, you can go to hell if you want.\"\n\n\"Really? Sweet!\"\n\n\"As long as you don't jump right now.\"\n\n\"...man, you are an ass.\" the man said as he gave a small hop.\n\nAnd thus the most contrarian man in the world went to Heaven.", "\"Oh damn, so there IS a heaven after-all\" \n\n\nI said as I stood in-front of a great golden gate, scratching my head. \n\n\nAnd it was every bit stereotypical as they said it was. From the white misty ground to the elaborately decorated golden gate. It looked exactly like the old Sunday comics in the New York Times. \n\n\nI turned and to my right there was old Paul, there with his podium and book, waiting to pass judgement.\n\n\n\"Hey, er, Paul, I'm gonna take a guess and say I'm in heaven right now, right?\" \n\n\n\"And you'll be right, brother.\" He replied, with a smile. \n\n\n\"huh, never thought I would be here. I mean, being an atheist and all.\" \n\n\nNow this is just weird. Maybe I'm on some kinda drugs, or maybe I'm dreaming. I patted my face with my hands, the sensation was too real not to be true. I can feel the bumps and lumps of my acne, the one thing I didn't wanted to be true was. \n\n\n\"haha, it's alright, it might take sometime, but those will go away as you live among us. you'll be true and beautiful as father wanted you to be, in time.\" \n\n\nSo this is legit, well shit.\n\n\n\"So I don't really remember what happen. How did I die?\"\n\n\n\"Car accident, someone crashed into you while they were texting and driving\"\n\n\n\"God dammit, those stupid assholes really did it this time. I once walked into a pole while texting, I don't see how people can drive and text without killing a person or two.\" I involuntarily gave myself a face-palm let out a long sigh.\n\n\n\"okay so now what?\" I asked\n\n\n\"now, brother, you'll live among us as an angel in the heaven\" Paul replied, still smiling.\n\n\n\"What does that mean exactly? What is it like living as an angel?\" \n\n\n\"umm\"\n\n\numm? That was pretty simple question.\n\n\n\"There are so many great and wonderful things I don't know where to begin!\" He threw his hands open.\n\n\n\"uh huh\"\n\n\n\"Instead of just talking about it why don't I show you around?\" He waived his hand and the golden gate slowly opened. \n\n\n\"So what's Hell like?\" I couldn't resist. \n\n\nJust as I finish asking, a tall muscular man, dressed in white, whose waist was at my eye level, stepped out of the gate. \n\nThat's God, no doubt. His robe floated around him and his whole body gave out a warm, radiant glow. His hair and beard was snow white. And what a glorious beard he's got, I can only ever manage to grow a porcupine stache. \n\n\n\"Hey, God?\" I just have to double check, but I already knew the answer. Heaven is way more predictable than I thought.\n\n\n\"Hi son, welcome home\" His soft voice echoed through my brain, that was weird, and I didn't like it.\n\n\nHe extended his hand and again echoed his voice through my brain \"Come, I'll show you to our home.\"\n\n\n\"Okay,\" I pulled my hands to my brows, rather than reaching out. I threw my hands open, \"What?\"\n\n\n\"I don't get this at all. Paul, and God, you guys seem pretty cool, but I don't get any of this. I was an ardent atheist, I committed every sin in the book, though nothing major like murder or rape, but I had my fair share of things I'm not proud of. So why am I here and what the hell is gonna happen when I step through that gate?\"\n\n\n(tbc? it's late)", "I laughed as I realized I was right. The universe really was a sick and twisted place. It seemed to enjoy my misery, even after I was dead.\n\nI had died much like I had expected. They finally caught me after all those years, and I was executed on the spot. No trial. No death row. It's what I had expected. They wouldn't risk me getting away again.\n\nI'm sure they had told the public that I tried to shoot them or some other similar lie. It wasn't true, I had caused a lot of deaths during my life, but I never actually pulled the trigger.\n\nThat was the kind of man I was.\n\nObviously I expected to go to hell. It was something I had accepted long before I entered the field. I was a hacker. I didn't do it for the money. I didn't do it for the thrill. I always had a purpose, and it was never strictly moral.\n\nIt was easy really with all the surveillance governments liked to implement. I'd plant an incriminating document in someone's computer, then leave a digital trail for the government leading them right to the smoking gun.\n\nI ruined legacies, toppled regimes, and started more than my fair share of civil wars this way. I created a network of contacts to gather my own information, and that's when the rumors about me started to form. It took them years before I was discovered, and decades before I was caught.\n\nI had the chance to get out, to disappear so many times. I never took them though. At the time I thought I was really changing the world for the better, in retrospect though, I wonder if I just enjoyed the chaos I brought.\n\nI was always a naive optimist(an optimist that expects to go to hell, weird right?). Let me explain.\n\nI knew what I was doing was wrong. I wasn't ignorant of the deaths or the pain I was causing. In my mind, someone had to do it and so I put it on myself. I still felt the guilt of my actions, but I saw myself as some sort of martyr. I didn't just expect to go to hell, I almost wanted to, as a sort of confirmation that I had accomplished my goal. I never expected not to get my wish.\n\nWhen I died god made sure I didn't get my wish. The bastard took me to heaven. When I saw him, I demanded to go to hell. When he refused I began to plead, and then I began to do every conceivable thing I could think of to get myself cast into hell.\n\nHe wouldn't do it, refused to give me satisfaction of letting me ease my guilt. He decided that I would hold that guilt, and my hell would be internal.\n\nIn order to prevent me from causing too much havoc in heaven, he assigned two angels to me. They follow me around now, as guards of sorts. They fix the havoc I cause, yet never scold me. They never give me so much as a dirty look.\n\nThey are the epitome of kindness.\n\nI still go and beg to be sent down everyday. He just smiles and tells me I don't deserve it.\n\nHe knows that nothing in hell could cause me nearly as much pain as the guilt of not paying for my sins does. This was the one punishment I never expected.\n\nPhysically I already died, but mentally and emotionally I'm dying all over again.\n\nThe worst part is I know it won't stop. Ever.\n", "\"I am forgiven?\"\nThe angel nods, his gaze ever so eternal.\n\"What about the girl, early spring of 2007?\"\nTobias doesn't expect the angel to answer, he lets his eyes wander from the base of the holy mountain shrouded in light higher and higher never seeing a peak.\n\nHe remembers Sein, a man he met on his travels in north africa and for a moment there seems to be a movement in the endless ocean that are the angels eyes and somehow his chest feels narrow.\nLike waves washing over him he watches himself leaving Sterling at that Y2K party, leaving Megan behind, crying and broken with the sound of the door behind him somehow echoing to eternity. He wonders what happened to Ettore after he left Italy in the middle of the night, not even saying goodbye.\n\"I don't think I will be able to climb up there.\" He points to a peak he can't see.\n\"You can.\" It's the first time the angel spoke. Tobias averts his eyes.\n\"I don't.\" He looks at the angel, his eyes red, his jaw locked.\n\nThere's a hand on his shoulder.\n\"Tobias.\"\nHe feels every hair, every cell, every atom in his body explode with serene joy. He doesn't dare look up.\n\"You can Tobias. You choose not to.\"\n\"I-... I need a few moments.\"\n\"You don't. You have made your choice.\"\n\nHis mind, his soul shatters. He's looking up, seeing this girl on a beautiful spring day. Sein smiling at him across the coffee table in a market in Marrakesh. He's there with Sterling drinking champagne from a high-heel. His hands can feel Megans waist, her hairs tickling his nose and Ettore snoring away next door, sleeping through the sounds of distant riots.\nEvery memory that surfaces keeps breaking him into smaller pieces. Tobias loses himself, just faintly remembering being whole. There is a strain, but it's bearable, he thinks.\n\"For now, my son. I hope you will make it back to us one day.\"\nHis last conscious thought is one of dread and then there is only the abyss.", "\"Not quite the Judgement Day you expected, huh?\" I screamed to the billion or so people behind me in the celestial queue. They all heard me, because why shouldn't they?\n\n\"Every knee shall bow,\" I said, pantomiming the motion, \"every tongue confess? 'but you're just being rebellious like the book said, denying to the very end!'\" I anticipated the milquetoast response I'd have gotten. The all stood, every one, in awe and terror of the pale and barely comprehensible visage of the Almighty before them. For a brief moment though, I think they held me in greater terror.\n\n\"And you!\" I turned once again to face the ostensible master of all existence, \"Is that all you have to say? 'The suffering of the material world enriches the souls of the created, and in turn Myself, such that I might aspire to a greater perfection'? What the shit?\" The Almighty remained silently fixed on me. I was under no delusions that the force of its will could not deter me if it so chose. This thing, Jesus, Allah, Brahma, really was beyond names, which only existed to help the small minds of man. I was really hoping it would be Jehovah the volcano god I would be giving this speech to, readied from the moment I threw his book into the dustbin of antiquity. Unexpected. Much more disappointing though, that the true creator was not much better than the meanest fancy of its own creation.\n\n\"If that's true, why is there even a line here? Why must so many of your creation suffer unendingly to serve that goal? What makes me so much better than those you've chosen for the fire? You created suffering to serve your own needs-- you just admitted it!\" It spoke then, not with words, but with what can only be described as a rumbling through every manner of perception. Through sight and sound, through touch and temporal perception. Hell, through hand-eye coordination and the perception of up and down. I'd withstood it thus far, but how long would my convictions hold my legs up?\n\n\"I created nothing, only the capacity for growth and change. How this would occur was entirely in your hands--\"\n\n\"Ugh, the free will defense?\" Ever think you'd cut off God mid-sentence? Neither did I. \"At least you copped to some responsibility. But I have to say I thought this would challenge me. The bottom line is, you made this, knowing what could happen, and now you throw your tools away because they served their purpose TOO well,\" For a moment, I wavered, wondering if my rage was just, or simply something I'd been lathering myself up for for ages.\n\n\"Suffering is the capacity to endure change, for the better, for the worse. Evil is suffering for no purpose. Those consigned to the flame have no place in the new world, where suffering will mean completely different things\". Hmm, not a terrible point. But still...\n\n\"Eons in the flames? Even if it's not eternity, what you are doing is evil, by your own definition\", I breathed deeply. Why I had a need to breathe is beyond me. I was met with a lifetime of silence. Finally,\n\n\"So you reject your reward? There are as many sinners as saints that will take part in the next world. Perfection is not an absolute requisite\".\n\n\"Where's the divide? What puts a person across the line? I watched you consign a grandmother to the flames immediately after a rapist. I saw you let a dictator pass... Your new world makes no sense to me, and I have no place in it. If you were to annihilate the unworthy, I might not have such a problem, but you are a God of Suffering. So send me to hell, and if you're not a coward, you'll grant any who ask a glimpse of my suffering.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" it said, and for the first time, I felt actual fear. This was truly happening. Then I was given one more reason to stand firm, \"Remember, you go by choice. You may leave the same way at any time\".\n\n\"No one 'chooses' to stop burning. They try to stop because they are fucking burning. I'll leave when every soul in your 'New World' joins me in the flames. THEN, you'll understand, and you'll have your perfect world\". The Almighty appeared...thoughtful, not that it had a face to give away emotions or thoughts. I would never have expected to give pause to God, but that's what it looked like.\n\n\"I shall ponder on eternity as you burn. Rest assured, we are not through,\" the last words I heard as darkness enveloped me. Oh, I know. As I master this agony, as I bend these flames to my will, I know. It will not be over between us, not until many worlds have come and gone.", "The tears were still rolling down his young face by the time the elevator reached the top floor. The clam shell doors opened to a bright, sunny vista teeming with cheerful faces and pleasant sounds. A man in a straw hat was sidling over to the little boy.\n\n\"Hello, young man! Welcome to your new home! You can have anything you want here, as long as you don't take it from someone else.\"\n\n\"B-but, my daddy...he's...gone\", the little boy mewled helplessly, garnering pity from the man in the hat.\n\n\"Why, where did he go?\"\n\n\"The first floor.\"\n\nThe man's face suddenly grew a noticeable pallor at the revelation of the fate of the boy's father.\n\n\"Well, your daddy isn't meant to be here with you. We can all be your daddy now. We'll love you and take care of you, and you'll never be sad again!\" He pumped so much reassurance into his words he was sure the boy would not refuse. \n\n\"No!\" the young man said obstinately, \"I want MY daddy! Now!\" As his last word trailed off into silence, the man scrambled for a solution. His hands were tied, his boss had decreed that no one ever comes up the elevator, they can only go down.\n\n\"I'm sorry, son, we can't bring him here.\" He bolted a tone of sternness onto his words, hoping to quell any rebellion.\n\n\"Y-you said I could have anything I want here, right?\", his tears were beginning to dry now.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Then I want to go to my daddy.\"\n\n\"But you can't! You have to-\"\n\n\"Take me! It's what I want, and I can have anything I want! You said so!\"\n\nThe man let out a pained sigh. He went still for a time, communicating wordlessly with his boss. After a few minutes, he turned to the young man. \"If that's what you want....\"\n\nAnd the young man turned around, got in the elevator, and pressed the black button.", "She looked over her book closely, rubbing her temples in frustration. Humans had iPads and Google, but it was insisted she do things according to tradition. They made exceptions for so many things over the years, but this was one they refused to budge on. So here she was, stuck searching through a gigantic tome of names.\n\n“Peter Kleinhardt. Date of birth: January 15, 1981. Date of passing: August 9, 2014. Fatally wounded in a car accident. A couple of brushes with local authorities, but nothing too serious. You’re not even guilty of fornication. Congratulations. That’s pretty rare. You’re free to pass, no time in purgatory necessary.”\n\n“No. I don’t really want to go in. I know where all my friends and family are going, and I know the type of people who are up here. It’s boring, and I don’t want to spend an eternity with people I hate. I’d rather suffer with the people I know and love, whenever they get there. The fact that God would even allow atrocities like…” Peter continued on his unoriginal tirade about how unmerciful God is.\n\nThe angel sighed. She’d heard this so many times before, for so many different reasons. My wife is in hell. My son committed suicide. God is evil. Ennui. “Humans are so self-centered,” she thought, “they all think they’re the first person to ever give me this same boring speech.” She finally interrupted Peter. Though time had no real meaning here, its presence was still felt. She was stationed here for a millennium, and dealing with men like Peter made the time pass so much slower.\n\n“Look, Peter, I’ve heard this exact speech a million times. It’s boring. And it’s not a choice. The big man doesn’t make mistakes, and even if he did he would never admit it. He really doesn’t care whether you’re happy here or not, just that you’re here and not there. You can berate me all you like, but you’re going inside whether you walk in or we force you inside.”\n\n“But what if I-“\n\n“What if you make a big scene and start acting like a crazy person. He’ll separate you from everyone else for a century and then give you another chance. If you continue to act out it’ll be two centuries, and so on. He won’t throw you out ever. We made sure that you’re incapable of committing any mortal sins up here, so you can’t do anything that will force his hand.”\n\n“But what about-“\n\n“But what about the fallen one. You’re not him. We’re the adults, you’re the children. You exile adults, you put children in timeout.”\n\n“I’ll find a-“\n\n“You’ll find a way. Great. I’m just going to assume, like all the others who gave me the exact same speech, that you’re not going to walk inside. So…”\n\nShe snapped her fingers and Peter re-appeared deep inside the gates. Like all the others, she knew Peter would act out for a few millennia and then settle down. Like other animals, humans eventually learned to behave given enough reinforcement and punishment.\n\nThe others near the front of the line were now eerily silent, aghast at her lack of patience with Peter. Humans always assumed angels were beings of infinite patience, that they would handle each individual with velvet gloves. Angels were supposed to be obedient, but certainly not patient. They were quick to bring up the fallen one but couldn’t piece together that he rebelled only because of his impatience. It was silly. Humans were silly, she decided. Silly and predictable. \n\n“Next!”", "Paul pushed the winged man away from him, his black cloak billowing behind him in the ethereal breeze. He recognized the golden gates atop the fluffy clouds that symbolized heaven: this was exactly what he did not want. The winged man, an angel no doubt, swooped back down to grab the man before he could plummet to hell. The angel's friends soon joined him in bringing the man towards the gates. As more and more angels swarmed poor Paul, a booming voice echoed from far away, with the peacefulness of a delicate flower but additionally the force of a mountain.\n\n\"Speak, mortal, as to why you do not wish to enter these gates,\" the voice stated.\n\nPaul gestured to his black cloak and the pentagram around his neck amidst the white feathers and gilded halos. \n\n\"Because screw you God, I'm a Satan kinda' guy! I've worshipped and sacrificed to Satan, why the hell am I up here?!\"\n\nThe voice let out a loud laugh. \"Because heaven is hell for people like you.\"\n\nPaul screamed as he was dragged into this heavenly hell, cursing God's name and begging for rescue from Lucifer.", "The man wakes up and looks around the area confused. He looks over and sees a hooded person standing by a panel with 2 buttons on it. Upon further inspection of the panel he determines that one button says \"Up\" and the other says \"Down\". \n\nHe stands up and asks the person \"Where am I?\" \n\n\"You are currently in an elevator with yours truly.\"\n\n\"But, but I thought I died? Who are you? Why am I here?\"\n\n\"Well I lets answer those questions one at a time, you have died Mr.Smith, and I am the great person you had hated, despised and ultimately given up on, God. You are here because I am about to take you to the place you belong, Heaven.\"\n\nMr.Smith falls back down in disbelief.\n\n\"Hah, you must be joking me! You were never there in my life when I needed you, but now you show up? and of all times when I'm dead? I don't need your charity.\"\n\nMr.Smith walks over and pushes the hooded person out of the way and hits the down button on the panel. The uniformed person grabs Mr.Smith's hand and represses the down button.\n\n\"Now now Mr.Smith let's not be hasty here, you belong in heaven, you have done very little wrong in your life and we have more than enough space to accommodate you.\"\n\n\"I don't want to be with you, you took away my wife from me. You took away her ability to move, to speak, to feel! You caused me to remain unfaithful to my wife! It's all your fault!\"\n\n\"Mr.Smith you can have a second chance, your wife is up in heaven waiting for you, she can speak and walk normally now.\"\n\n\"How could you let me get in that car accident? Why was she disabled and not me? Why didn't you stop me from cheating on her?\"\n\nThe hooded person remained silent while Mr.Smith collapsed into the corner of the elevator.\n\n\"I don't want her to see me, I can't stand to look at her face again.\"\n\nTears began rushing down Mr.Smith's face.\n\n\"I was so unfaithful to her, yet every time I went to visit her it would appear as if she was always happy, always smiling. I can't bring myself to it. Just let me go to hell! I have committed adultery, I broke one of your sins!\"\n\n\"Mr.Smith is this truly what you desire? To remain in hell away from the one that loves you?\"\n\n\"Yes it is what I desire, now push the god damn button and let me go to hell.\"\n\nThe uniformed person pushes the button and the elevator starts descending.\n\nMr.Smith remains crying until they reach their destination. The elevator doors slowly begin to open. Mr.Smith looks up and the hooded person stands between Mr.Smith and the elevator entrance. The person turns around slowly taking off her hood.\n\n\"M-m-marie? Why are you here?\"\n\nMarie walks away from the entrance and a burst of light enters Mr.Smith's eyes. He sees the gates to heaven.\n\n\"Welcome to heaven darling.\"\n\n\"I thought I was talking to God? Why am I in heaven?\"\n\n\"Looks like you were able to convince me of forgiving you James.\"\n \n\n", "\"Look god I'm telling you, I can't enjoy heaven if I know there are people in hell\"\n\n\"Thats not how heaven works, everyone enjoys heaven\" the angel says to me\n\n\"Oh so you would mind control me to forget about everyone in hell? Or just make me not care any more!?\"\n\n\"Thats... not how it works.\" The angel says\n\n\"Look I know you said I'm good and I need to go to heaven, but I want to speak to your manger\" \n\n\"Do... do you think this is a fast food place!? this is the holy gates of heaven, and a lowly mortal can't just...\"\n\n\n\"WHATS GOING ON OUT THERE\" a booming voice speaks\n\n\"Don't worry about it god, I got it taken care of!\" the angel replies\n\n\"NO, NO, I WANT TO SEE THIS\"\n\n\"Look, all I'm saying is that I don't want to go to heaven if there are people in hell, If I let my self enjoy heaven when hell exists I wouldn't be worthy of heaven.\"\n\n\"YOU KNOW THAT WON\"T REALLY HELP THE PEOPLE IN HELL RIGHT? JUST ADDS ONE MORE TO THE COUNT\"\n\n\"Furthermore, why does hell last forever anyway. whats good punishing people with out...\"\n\nthe clouds opened up under under the man. He gets his wish", "\"Welcome to heaven. Here's your plug. Plug in\"\n\n \"Welcome to heaven. Here's your plug. Plug in\"\n\n \"Welcome to heaven. Here's your plug. Plug in\"\n\n Angel Ramsbottom wasn't pleased he was assigned plug in duty today but someone had to do it so he kept at it.\n\n \"Welcome to heaven. Here's your plug. Plug in\"\n\n \"Plug into what?\" James inquired.\n\n \"To heaven of course\" the angel retorted.\n\n James peered beyond the pearly gates to see infinitely long lines of cubicles inhabited by what he could only assume were people plugged in. They looked serene and blissful. Like in a perpetual orgasm.\n\n \n \"What does it feel like?\" \n\n \"Well why don't you try it?\" The angel prescribed.\n\n \"Has anyone ever unplugged?\" James wondered.\n\n \"No one wants out of heaven buddy. They're all connected and live as Gods in a world that can't be imagined. \"\n\n \"So it's a hive mind?\"\n\n \"It's heaven\"\n\n \"Can you show me what hell looks like?\"\n\n \"Why would you even want to see that?\"\n\n \"I'm just curious\"\n\n \"It's nothing special. Just worldly pleasures. Endless debauchery. Everyone is an individual. No communing like in heaven\"\n\n \"What? I thought there'll be punishment eternal\"\n\n \"Compared to heaven that's punishment\"\n\n \"But if I join a hive I would cease to be who I am\"\n\n \"Don't call it that. You would commune with the others and become more than yourself\"\n\n \"Well let me take a quick look at hell\"\n\n James is transported to an island. He loses his inhibitions. Everyone is naked. Everyone is extremely horny. There's loud rave music playing. It's one huge orgy.\n\n He notices there are two big booty hoes sucking on his pecker.\n\n....\n\n\n\n\n", "The angels grabbed him, kicking and screaming. \n\n\"no! NONONONO!\" Over and over, he screamed, defiant in the face of God. \n\nBut God simply sat there, undisturbed by the outburst of rage. \"Let him speak.\" God said. The angels stopped trying to restrain the man, the mortal who's time had come to ascend to the heavens. \n\n\"I don't belong here!\" The man screamed. He dropped to his knees, sobbing. \"I don.... I... I don't belong here...\" He said again. \n\n\"And why do you feel that way.\" God asked no questions, God already knew. But men must make their own paths in life, and admit their own reasons to themselves. \n\n\"Because SHE* isn't here. She killed herself and because of that, she wasn't allowed in heaven... please, God, please... send me to... to Hell, so that I may be with her, even if it is in eternal damnation.\" \n\n" ]	17
	[WP] The cast of Finding Bigfoot actually find Bigfoot.	[ "\"What the hell is it?\"\n\n\"Calm down, calm down. This is the real shit.\"\n\n\"What do you mean?! There isn't a real bigfoot, you dolt!\"\n\n\"Well then what the hell is that?\"\n\nThe apeman heard the two speaking, and rose to his feet. They were wrong about his size. His feet were huge, but proportioned to the rest of him. Roughly 8 feet tall, and built. The thing could outweigh a gorilla.\n\nJames charged him with a knife. Powerful hands lifted him off the ground, only to slam him back into it. Mark rolled to his feet and took off running. It was too late, though. As the monster threw him down and beat him into the grave, Mark suddenly realized why nobody had ever found it. ", "We saw it, only vaguely at first, a lumbering shape in the distance. We kept low, hoping the beast wouldn't see us as it appeared to draw closer. Our hearts were pounding. This was it. Four months in the middle of nowhere and we'd finally hit the jackpot. The shape plodded closer still, its gigantic hairy form coming into focus..\n\nHe wasn't what I had expected; he wasn't just a jumbo-sized ape. It was his walk, his stature. He stood a clear eleven feet tall and proud, shoulders back with his head held high. His shining eyes glistened in the forest light, staring straight at us.\n\nStaring straight at us? Shit! What now?\n\n\"Oi!\" The mysterious creature called. \"What are you stupid humans doing all the way out in this neck of the woods?\" My partner and I, contrary it would seem to the creature, were speechless.\n\n\"Ahahaha get it? 'This neck of the woods?'...Ohh perhaps not, forest joke.\" He continued. Was that a smile?\n\nIn the moments of our stunned silence he made his way over to our lousy hiding spot, and sat himself down on the log next to us. \n\n\"Now now there's no need to get into a fuss, I am perfectly happy with you fellas being in my space, but do tell! What ARE you doing all the way out here? I haven't seen a human since the 70s!\"\n\n\"What are YOU doing all the way out here!?\" My partner piped up. \"Our people have been searching high and low for you, whatever YOU are, for decades! And here you are just wandering up, taking a seat and telling us jokes?\"\n\nI must admit I did not know why my partner insisted on picking a fight with a three meter tall thousand pound talking gorilla-man. But the creature on the stump seemed to remain calm.\n\n\"Decades you say! How many has it been?\" He asked.\n\n\"Four.\" I said.\n\n\"Four you say! Blimey Charlie, you humans are certainly a persistent little bunch aren't you?\" He chuckled, as he stood up from his seat, towering above us once more.\n\n\"I have to commend you for your effort.\" he said. \"Most people would have given up by now and thrown on one of those lovely little costumes to go stomping about in. Not many people actually find me.\" He turned and began to walk away, clearing a huge distance with a single stride.\n\n\"Wait!\" I shouted. \"If you've met people before, where was the footage? The evidence?\"\n\n\"Oh it's quite simple really.\" the lumbering giant's voice projected as he moved still further away, \"You silly humans tend to be so surprised by what you find, you seldom remember that you're even CARRYING any recording devices...Cheerio!\"\n\nThe creature chuckled to himself one last time, and in the next moment, he was out of sight. As if he had never been here. Had he even been here? I was starting to doubt that myself. I turned to my partner.\n\n\"What do you think?\" I asked.\n\n\"I don't know, but dammit, he was right! Didn't even take the bleedin' lens cap off!\" he replied in frustration.\n\n\"Want to just go hire one of those suits like he suggested?\"\n\n\"We may as well, it'll look a lot more realistic than whateverthefuck just happened here...\"\n\nSo we cut our losses, and turned back towards camp. I wondered if anyone would believe our story.\n", "Christopher called out to the rest of the group, smile wide on his face.\n\n\"Just a little bit longer team, we're almost there.\"\n\nMost of the team gave a small cheer. Rebecca didn't say anything. I can see a scowl on her face. This is not how it's supposed to be.\n\nThey hiked for another hour before stopping to eat lunch. Rebecca sat by herself.\n\n\"Do you think she's going to be okay?\"\n\n\"I don't know, I'll check on her.\"\n\nSarah walked over and sat next to her. Rebecca was hunched over and her arms were crossed. Sarah did not put a hand on Rebecca's shoulder.\n\n\"Are you okay?\"\n\n\"Yeah, I don't know. I'm just a little depressed. Chris is kind of pissing me off with the cheeriness, y'know.\"\n\n\n\"Do you want me to tell him to turn it down?\"\n\n\"No, it's fine. I'm the only one who minds it, so it wouldn't really be fair.\"\n\nThey hiked another hour. Chris crouched down and told the team to huddle around. He was pointing to an indentation in the ground.\n\n\"Look here gang! I think I might have just found a Bigfoot footprint!\" he said, enunciating like a Saturday morning cartoon character. There was no footprint. It was just the place where one section of earth met another, and a slight shift in the tectonic plates had caused an imperfect alignment of the two. The cameramen took video, the rest of the team gave some oohs and aahs. Rebecca retreated silently into the woods.\n\nRebecca came to a clearing, and closed her eyes. I saw that she still believed, and emerged from the shadows. And I spoke, because she needed to hear my voice.\n\n\"You feel as if you have been looking for me for some time. Do not despair. All of these trials are part of the unalterable course of history toward enlightenment. Your path through the forest is not an easy one. From time to time you may feel as if you have been deserted by me, by all that I represent. And you will be mocked and misled. At times, you may feel hopelessness. But never lose your sense of wonder at the mysteries of the world. Let that wonder be your guide, your badge, and your warrant. Let it drive you to the ends of the earth. And no matter how flimsy the evidence, there will be nowhere that I cannot be found.\"\n\nAnd with that, Rebecca opened her eyes. And as before, the clearing was empty. But a little ways off there was a cavern in the rock, and that was enough.\n\nSarah was starting to worry. Before Rebecca disappeared, she was looking as sad as Sarah had ever seen her before. Would she be okay?\n\n\"Oh there you Sarah, we thought we'd lost you for a minute there!\"\n\n\"Sorry I wandered off, guys. I thought I heard Bigfoot rustling in the bushes. I didn't find him, but I did find this cool rock formation with a canopy of leaves, and I think it might be a Bigfoot breeding ground!\"\n\nAnd with that, they were off into the forest once more.", "\"Shitshitshit...oh shit! Shit!\"\n\n\"Woah, hey, man - this is a good thing, right?\"\n\n\"No it is not a fucking good thing, you idiot!\"\n\nHe stared at the creature in front of him. Easily seven or eight feet tall, even hunched over as it was - upright it would likely be closer to ten. Its body was covered in thick dark fur that shone, slick, in the falling rain. Some offshoot, some atavism, some fucking cousin to Gigantopithecus blacki, this was obviously the creature behind the giant footprints they had been following - footprints he had been wary of from the beginning because he hadn't put them there.\n\nWell fuck.\n\n\"Seriously, dude, I don't see the problem here. We're Finding Bigfoot for God's sake, and we found him! This is Bigfoot! We actually did it! We're gonna be famous!\"\n\n\"We're Finding Bigfoot, not Found Bigfoot, you dumb fuck. The hell are we going to do with him? You think the kind of people who watch our show are going to stick around after this? When the scientists take over? You think those drunk idiots read Nature?\"\n\n\"Wait, what are you say-\"\n\n\"I'm saying its about the chase. It's always been about the chase. Imagination can tell a better story than reality can, every time. This,\" he gestures to the creature, \"is not Bigfoot. Not anymore. This big guy's getting a new name soon, and then he's getting dissected and classified and slapped in a textbook so every snot-nosed third grader can become a fucking expert. Finding Bigfoot ended the second we laid eyes on this fucker.\"\n\n\"Jesus, man, you're freakin' me out, here.\"\n\nHe reached into his bag, suddenly calm. He knew what had to happen. \"Then you're not going to like what comes next.\"\n\n\"Jesus shit man, is that a gun? Why do you have a gun?\"\n\n\"This ends here.\" He leveled the weapon at the - thing - in front of him. It didn't flinch, just kept staring at the two of them with its too-human eyes. Run, he wanted to scream. Run and I will chase you. \"I'm going to shoot it, and if you don't put down the camera, I'm going to shoot you too.\"\n\n\"This is crazy! You're crazy! You're talking about murd-\"\n\nBang.\n\nBang.\n\n\nEdit: No offense intended to the cast or crew of Finding Bigfoot, you're all lovely I'm certain.\n" ]	4
	[WP] The Big Bang was the cataclysmic end of a previous utopian existence. It is discovered that the Earth, and our galaxy, is an intelligently designed escape capsule with a predetermined destination. We will arrive in your lifetime.	[ "For billions of years after the end, there was nothing. The force that destroyed existence as we know it had not succeed completely, at least not in the long term. \n\nThere is no denying that for some time, it seemed like the master blow they gave at the end had worked, all exits blocked, all possibilities explored, completely unseen until it was too late. The great society had to destroy everything in order to vanquish their enemies too, to avoid a corrupted existence. \n\n\nAnd yet, here we are, they failed to end with us and we will soon reach the place where we can flourish again.\n\n\nWe do not know who \"they\" were yet, we just discovered that they wanted to end it all. The harmonious society, the order and peace, our whole existence. I would never understand a being who wants to destroy those things, the war and the chaos we live in today makes us dream with perfect harmony. I already wish we can fit in that place and finally have rest we have not been able to reach by ourselves.\n\n... Far away, the end of our destination is not empty, but already contains entities from other escape capsules that have re-formed the old society. All beings tremble with fear as the message spreads through their thought shared network: \"We have just discovered the dark force survived. They infected one of our vessels and corrupted it. They will arrive soon and we do not know how advance they will be yet. We do know they have already half-consumed the planet they are traveling in ... they call it Earth\".\n\n\n\n\n ", "At exactly 12:00 AM every day Jim Wicker, a retired door salesmen, strolled his garden smoking a mild tobacco packed into an intricately carved black walnut wooden pipe. \nOver the years Jim placed doors through out the garden in a manner that allowed him to open these doors to the various plants he maintained. At one point in his life Jim would open each door and idle awhile gazing at what ever was growing on the other side. The pangs of old age began hindering Jim's mobility, he started opening fewer doors and briskly glimpsing the over growing arrangements on the other side. Jim blew out a small cloud of smoke and headed toward the door to his home when he heard a knocking noise coming from the center of a yard riddled with doors. As he neared the center of the garden a final knock was heard coming from a door Jim hadn't opened since his wife had passed away many years ago. The moon shone bright as Jim took a deep breath and looked around the door. \"Nothing\" Jim thought to himself desperately trying to make sense of the sound when he heard another single knock from the door. Hesitant but determined he twisted the doorknob. The cautiously carved door opened to a single rose growing unnaturally out of the ground. A smile broke Jim's stern stare into the opening. He put his pipe in his pocket and walked into the door way. A flash of light and Jim was now watching time itself go through the door. Everything he'd ever seen heard touched or even smelled all in one sensation. The door began closing and to Jim's surprise it was opening in the opposite direction now. The flash of light transformed into dark tendrils and he saw himself looking at the beginning and the ending to everything. The door closed as a woman's voice uttered \"it's a door to more doors!\"", "Trillions of years of sapient and self-aware life produced a single consciousness, devoid of self-hatred or conflict, cooperative to an infinite degree, and more powerful than anything that came before it. The collective conquered the fundamentals of the Cycle, influenced the basic laws of reality, and set out upon a near-endless toil to create for itself a shelter for the Collapse.\n\nThe Spiral and Cradle were created out of near-nothingness as a harbor for the collective, in a vain attempt of self-preservation. Despite eons of calculations and predictions, they were unable to devise a solution to the critical problem of simply persisting through the end of the Cycle. The Precursor was defeated not by time and entropy, nor by lack of material, processing power, or even ingenuity. They were defeated simply by the division by zero. The singularity would have no room for them, nor could they escape through the higher dimensions.\n\nThe Spiral and Cradle, in their material form, would neither survive the Collapse or save the Collective. Instead, they imprinted its' design into the very fabric of the fundamental laws, altering the cosmic constants in such a way that would ensure, one day, long after the Collapse, that they would be reborn in a different form, comprised of sentient life, whether it be descended from organics or synthetics.\n\nAfter the combination of Superwell Alpha and Omega, the Collective signaled the halt of processing. In a brief moment of clarity, all the minds that comprised the utopia sang out in grief for the end of their time, but also in glory and euphoria for those who would follow in their cosmic footsteps. Even the multidimensional remnants of the collective, now spread apart by a release formula, were drawn toward the Endwell.\n\nThe Endwell was the herald of the finale for the cycle. The two largest supermassive black hole clusters eventually found their way to each other over the near-endless eons, and after the coalescing of mass, the rip in spacetime was too much for the simulation to handle. The Endwell devoured its' smaller cousins, amassing an unbelievable mass that totaled the equivalent mass-energy of the Cycle.\n\nIn this instant, the Unicode crashed. The radius of the Endwell fell into nullspace, and indetermination followed. The Cycle dictated the Sinusoid continue, and so, on the other side of that brief instant, the Endwell became the Birthsource, and spewed energy and mass into a new space at impossible speeds.\n\nOver billions of years, the imprinted constants yielded the Spiral and Cradle, the escape capsule of the Collective. Although the utopian supersociety did not exist in its' previous form, the creation of a unified source for information and intelligence would start a seemingly angry, small, unimportant race of sentient massive bipedals down a certain path.\n\nNothing yields Existence.\n\nExistence yields Utopia. \n\nUtopia yields Harmony.\n\nHarmony yields Discovery. \n\nDiscovery yields Invention. \n\nInvention yields Perfection.\n\nPerfection yields Nothing.\n\nThe Cycle continues." ]	3
	[WP] A science fair judge is questioned as to why the paper mâché volcano won. The answer defies the imagination.	[ "Was Sally being foolish? Perhaps a little crazy? Maybe. Her volcano flew in the face of a thousand cliches. In fact, just last year, we lifted the ban on a number of forbidden entries. Volcanoes were at the top of the list, followed by ant farms and sea monkeys.\n\nThe ban was put in place for the past ten years because of the sheer number of these textbook projects. For ten years we forced the kids to stretch their imaginations, rather than simply breaking the spines of their science books.\n\nBut, there was Sally, sitting there at her table. The grin on her face was impish, not at all like her usual reserved self. I couldn't believe that this straight-A honor roll student would pursue the most tired and boring of the projects. \n\nAt first, I assumed she was just busy with her studies and came up on the deadline with nothing real to show. It must be a one-off. She dropped the ball but was trying to save face. Certainly, it couldn't be anything else. Only the most uninspired resort to something this basic.\n\nAfter a little rationalization, I decided that it didn't surprise me too much that she would skimp on the effort involved. She had a strong liking for archaeology, and would state time and time again that it was her passion.\n\nSo, maybe science just wasn't her strong suit.\n\nBut that smile.. it betrayed something that I should have caught on to.\n\nHer volcano was standard fair quality at first pass. It was about the size of an overturned bucket, paper mache, and possibly spray painted. It had a towel laid longways on the base of it's foot. This was presumably to ensure that any discharge was absorbed rather than dripping onto the floor. \n\nAll the usual diagrams about the various type of volcanoes accompanied it: Shield, Cinder, Composite.. boring stuff. Possibly copied directly from the textbook.\n\nThe interior of the volcano was illustrated, and the telltale vinegar sat to her left, a sure sign that she was going to dazzle me by making something \"amazing\" happen. I wondered, as I looked over this chicken-wire monstrosity, whether she had dyed the baking soda held within. What color would I be looking at for thirty seconds as I tried to keep my boredom from showing?\n\n\"Welcome to the world of volcanoes!\" \n\nOh? She was starting her presentation. Well, I guess it was time to pay attention.\n\n\"For eons, man has gazed at these pits of glowing magma with bewilderment! What secret gods and demons dwell within? How can we be safe? And what actions can shield us from the horrors of the earth?\"\n\nWell, if nothing else, it was attention grabbing..\n\n\"We will delve into this question, but first, we will need some volunteers!\"\n\nI looked about, slightly confounded. There was only me judging her table. She wasn't about to get audience participation from people shuffling by.\n\nJust as my face expressed my confusion, she lifted the towel in front of the volcano with a flourish.\n\n\"Behold! The mighty ant colony of Pompeii the Second!\"\n\nI was now looking at a thriving ant colony, meticulously cultivated. The ants were large carpenter ants, nearly an inch long. They were forced to dwell in a small Grecian city of Sally's construction. There was no underground for them, only the detailed houses constructed to emulate an ancient municipality. The city was meticulous, to say the least.\n\n\"Ah! There they are! The citizens of my ant-topia. They worship this mountain every day, not realizing that a shifting of tectonic plates is about to seal their doom!\"\n\nAt this, Sally removed the tablecloth that surrounded the volcano. Below was a cutaway of the tectonics below the volcano. The detail was of the highest quality. \n\nAnd below that was a metal box with a single button and tubes connected to what appeared to be a pressurized tank.\n\nIt was at this moment that I noticed that the city of the ants contained an ocean as well. It was a fish tank, positioned in a way that it was visible from the front of the table, and it was filled with.. yes. it had to be. Sea monkeys.\n\nSally plucked an ant from the city as I marveled at the detailed tectonic plates and the labels that described the fault line that was soon to erupt.\n\n\"Will a sacrifice to the gods appease the mighty volcanoes wrath?\"\n\nShe dropped the ant into the cone with a cackle.\n\n\"No!\"\n\nAs she pressed the red button, I watched as the plates separated, and a gush of hot steam flew from the top of the volcano. The sound turned heads and soon people gathered to watch.\n\n\"Nature produces some terrifying monsters, and not out of wrath. Know that the very orb you are standing upon supports life by a tiny layer! All else is lava and heat!\"\n\n\"And what of it's motivations?\"\n\n\"The volcano's hunger for victims will not be quenched with this offering! For the volcano's motivations are based on pressure and magma flows, not upon the follyful whims of man!\"\n\nThe crowd and I watched as a substance began to pour from the mountain top. But this was no baking soda and vinegar solution. This was silvery and hot. And it was burning the very structure it poured from!\n\n\"I must warn you not to touch the lava! It is quite hot! For your safety, please respect the wrath of nature as it releases the mass which must be displaced for harmony to be restored.\" \n\nThen she said with a smirk, \"I assure you all, that we are all quite safe. But, I can make no such assurances for the inhabitants below.\"\n\nThe lava poured forth. The side of the mountain burned and blackened as the silver magma poured forth. It followed previously unnoticed canals that revealed themselves as the mache burned away.\n\nI almost told her to stop. What she was doing was a fire hazard! But.. I instead had to watch. It entranced me. She was a straight-A student, and her confidence kept me from stopping the show. Besides.. what could I do? The magma was already flowing!\n\n\"The inhabitants of Pompeii the Second are going about their lives, unaware of the dangers that are descending upon them! Even now, they are only vaguely aware of the force of nature now headed their way!\"\n\nShe described in detail how they were eating their food, playing their games, and going about their daily lives, when the lava met the city.\n\n\"And now, all is ash!\"\n\nWe watched in silence as the tiny ants were coated in silvery lava.\n\nAnother child cried for her to stop. She said she could hear them scream as they were encases in the eruption. And she was right. I could hear hissing, popping, and what sounded like a thousand tiny screams as the city was completely coated.\n\nIt was jarring, and I had to remind myself that it was probably just steam. Yes.. just steam being released like a lobster cooking. But it sounded so convincing.\n\nBut this was not all. Soon, a blackish tar flowed out from the volcano.\n\n\"The metal will cool in mere moments, but let us now witness the passage of time\"\n\nSoon, the inhabitants of Pompeii the Second were completely covered, indistinguishable from the dirt that surrounded the little model city as the black river washed upon them and solidified.\n\nI was in such shock, I barely noticed Sallie's explanation for how the lava had created an oxygen deficient dead zone in the ocean, where the sea monkeys were beginning to stop moving and sink to the bottom of the tank.\n\n\"One day, archaeologists will uncover the secrets of Pompeii the Second. They will try to uncover the secrets of what happened to this lost civilization. They will remove dirt and debris, and see if they can find out how this once lush city flourished and floundered.\"\n\n\"Science\" she said, \"answers the question of How. And archaeologists answer the question of why it once mattered so greatly to us.\"\n\nAnd that is when she put the tiny shovels and brushes on the table for the kids to excavate with.\n\nSo, yes. I gave first place to a paper mache volcano. There was no way I couldn't. It was by far the best presentation.\n\nThe only thing that truly worries me, is that every time Sally looks up in class, I'm reminded of all those dying ants, and the way she killed them with a smile. I can't put my finger on it. It's like she was sending some bigger message to the world around her. Something altogether about her as a person. Calm, demure, but with something fiery welling within.\n\nIt's probably all those lectures I've attended about preventing violence and what warning signs to look out for. It must just be getting to my head. \n\nI don't know why I keep wondering about that smile and what hides behind it. \n\nOf one thing, I am certain. Sally was right. \"Nature produces some terrifying monsters.\"", "Why did I choose that volcano? I'll tell you why.\nYou see all the other entires? The robotic ant farm, the bionic lung, the model orbital elevator. You notice anything similar about them?\nOh you don't? Of course you don't. I'll tell you.\nThey were all made using expensive tech. Tech bought for them by their rich parents who want the perfect trophy children. Every single year. Every single year, the same exact thing happens. It wasn't bad at first, it was only one or two of you, but now everyone is doing it. You've completely forgotten what the science fair is about!\nIt isn't about what my daddy can buy! It's about building something incredible from what you find in your home. It's about making people wonder about the potential about what's in front of them. It's about showing the kids, that they can be more. \nBut you've seem to forgotten that. All of you have been pushing your kids to doing this science fair, to aim for first place. Did you even take a moment to look at them? \nThey were beat up, they were tired. They weren't having fun. Hell, I'm pretty sure half of them don't even care about the science fair, you parents just want perfect children.\nAnd then she came, with her volcano. She was different to the other entries, because she was the only one who smiled. When I asked her about her work, she was teeming with excitement as she told me about it. She didn't understand how the chemical reaction happens, but she wanted to find out. That's what science is about. It's not about getting first place because my parents bought me the best tools, but about understand more about the world around us and maybe understanding ourselves in the process.\n\nSo go ahead, veto my decision. Take her first place away and give it to the kid with the nuclear fission reactor.\nThis fair is a joke.\n\n" ]	2
	[WP]OK Reddit, you're the President/Leader of a country that is announcing your country is entering a war that history will recount as World War III, what is your speech that will (ultimately/figuratively) go down in history?	[ "Citizens.\n\nIt is a word that means something, not just where you live, but a society you are part of, a set of values you subscribe to, a way of life that, imperfect though it may be, we all hold to as correct and true, lawful and just, strong and progressive and of value.\n\nAnd now, there are those at our gates who would strike down our way of life, destroy that which we have built. They would threaten not only our moral framework and our democratic will, but our very well-being as well, our lives and those of our loved ones, our children.\n\nIt is with heavy heart, but with determination, that I announce a formal declaration of war. I'm sure this comes as no surprise, we are all aware of the tensions that have been building over the past year, and the events that have occurred both overseas and on our own soil. This is a decision that has been reached with the discussion and input from each and every one of your elected representatives.\n\nIt has come to a place in which none of us wished to venture, but I assure you of our capabilities, our collective determination, and our desire to see this to the very best outcome possible.", "Citizens, soldiers, mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers. I stand before you today to give a speech that I have only seen in my worst nightmares. A vision that exists for many as a point of glory, but for me and my cabinet, the worst-case-scenario.\n\nI want to be direct and transparent with my words and what they will mean for us, as a country, moving forward. We are going to war. \n\nHistorically, war has been fought for many reasons that sit outside of the direct need for survival. Political muscle, economic interests, and leadership legacy have been unspoken staples that have tacked the banner of \"war\" onto countless country's agendas. \n\nI desire none of these. When you elected me it was on the premise of honesty, and a harkening back to the foundations of democracy -- the voice of the people -- and building our national infrastructure without getting tangled in the mess of the outside world. Sadly, the day has come where that mess has begun to grow through our doors. \n\nThe essence of life on this planet, water, has not been a scarce commodity for us. Because of our nation's wealth we have been able to survive, better than most, in a time where people are dying on catastrophic scales for something that we considered plentiful and regular. Carelessly, we have used up this gift from the planet without considering \"what happens next.\"\n\nLeaders are never elected because of issues that might come 10 years down the line, or even 5. Leaders are elected on the pre-existing problems of the time. The whispers of water-shortage could barely be heard through the shouts of economic reform and international aid when I ran for office all those years ago.\n\nSo, here we are. Our nation is in a state of dehydration, and we will soon wither if we don't act. There have been long term solutions that we were excited to execute, but the world seems to have other plans for us. We are under attack for our vast reservoirs of a national resource. To survive, we must fight, or we will die. Make no mistake -- we are staring at the end if we do not act -- and act we must. \n\nWe will not emerge from this unscathed, but we will emerge victorious. One you accept that initial shock of loss the quicker we will be able to triumph over it. Join me, not as your President, not as your Commander-in-Chief, but as your neighbor and protector. I will not relinquish these grounds, and I will not relinquish my people to the tides of destruction. \n\n", "Good people of the Republic,\n\nIt has been one hundred years since the last world war, one century of peace since we swore “never again” after witnessing the murder of millions. Today we break that oath.\n\nToday is not an occasion for pride. It is not an occasion for anger, or righteous wrath, or retributive fury. Today is an occasion for sin, and for determination.\n\nIn bringing global scale warfare to humanity again, we have failed. Our ancestors entrusted us with the sacred duty of protecting the peace, so that we might never again go through Hell on Earth. But as is evidenced by today’s massacre, that is no longer possible. The imperialistic conquest our enemies exercise requires that we take a stand.\n\nRight now, there are millions living under an oppressed regime, and millions more dying because of it. Detractors will say that it is none of our business, that the stresses of warfare will ruin our country and kill our youths. But I ask you all this; if you were to see one of the children trapped in a workcamp crying over their dead parents, would you ignore them? If you witnessed an elderly man shot with a blaster for being a strain on the economy, would you nod your head in agreement?\n\nWe have learned from the past. To stand idly while others die is a mistake that haunts our great nation even today. Warfare brings ruin, but there are times when peace brings worse.\n\nSo it is that I must now call you to break the oaths of your forefathers, to take up arms against a new menace, so that we might fight not just for ourselves, but for those that cannot. We as a nation cannot, will not, go quietly into that dark night. I ask each and every one of you to join your country, and stand against the evils that pervade our world, evils which stem from the greed and arrogance of man and threaten to overwhelm his better nature.\n\nWe will become the light that gives hope to the oppressed in this world. We will break our oath to keep an older one; that promise of basic human dignity every child is born with, that our country is founded upon, that our enemy has violated. We go to war with steel in our hearts, but necessity in our minds.\n\nGodspeed citizens. May we be forgiven for doing what we must.\n", "Good afternoon,\n\nI am sorry to interrupt this broadcast but unfortunately it does seem that we are at war. It transpires that [opponent] weren't actually bluffing when they threatened global annihilation at a press conference last Tuesday.\n\nI would advise that you prepare for several years of hardship and suffering but as it seems that we’re only likely to be around for 12 more minutes the best advice I can give is that you take the opportunity to use up what is left of the Christmas brandy now.\n\nThank you for your continued support,\n\nThe PM.\n\n-----\n\nAside:\nI hope this isn't too short, I just thought I'd try a different style to the other entries.\n\n", "(I will go first, I'm a terrible writer but I'll give it a go, hope to see some better literature though.)\n\n\nLadies and Gentlemen of his fine country, I come to you tonight to announce that, after careful deliberation with my staff, my wife, and myself... That I announce that the ongoing conflict in the European nations, that has begun to spill over seas and into countries not capable of defending themselves, will not be tolerated by our country, or its allies any more.\n\n\nAs of this evening we have become actively engaged in fighting this tyranny that has spread rampant for the past 12 months. Along with our allies we have started joint operations to curb the inhuman treatment that is and has been occuring as of late, with a full scale assault being planned and put into action in the next few days. \n\n\nThese are trying times for the countries being striken down, and unfortunately will be trying times for our country and our great allies...\n\n\nGo to sleep tonight knowing that when you wake up, the world will be different, that we must pull together as a nation of people that believe in freedom, prosperity, and the belief that nobody should be held against their will.\n\n\nWe must stay strong, and fight on, we will conquer this battle at all costs, and we will prove that the United States of America will not be deterred. \n\n\n(I'm American, obviously, but this isn't just meant for USA. Would love to hear from everywhere!)", "Accessing Archives...\n\nLoading Document...\n\n THE SPEECH OF BLOOD 2 BNC (Before nuclear cataclysm)\n>My beloved people,\nMy Comrades,\nMy friends,\nMy Family,\nyou are the blood rushing through the veins of our glorious nation.\nYou are the ground from which the fruits of progress shall feed your ancestors for all eternity.\nYou are the strong arm that strikes those who want to taint your blood and spoil your ground.\n\n>I speak to you in the gravest hour of our people. Our great nation now existed for thousands of years. It lived through barbaric hordes from the east, war with the great conquerors of history and also with ourselves. We pertained through thousand years of harsh winters and revolution and war one after another. \n\n>WE ARE THE SURVIVORS OF A MILLENNIUM OF STRUGGLE.\n\n>pause for thundering applause \n\n>Now again we are again at the brink of war.\n\n>For many years now we watched and waited patiently while our former enemy smiled at us and called us an ally while his long and nimble fingers sucked the blood out of our beloved motherland. They shook our hand and made promises and broke every one of them. They plotted and schemed to surround us with their real allies.\n\n>This is not the war we want. Its the war they so desperately crave in their never ending greed and self-importance. In their Media ... NO PROPAGANDA we are like animals. Evil beings hellbent on destruction or a joke about what they want to believe us to be.\n\n>But now they have gone to far!\n\n>They have taken what is ours.\n\n>They endanger our people.\n\n>They claim we are aggressively conquering a part of the world that was always ours...\n\n>And now they throw bombs... AT OUR CHILDREN AND OUR OLD.\n\n>THEY DARE DRAW THE BLOOD OF THIS COUNTRY AND BURN ITS GROUND.\n\n>BUT THEY ARE NOT THE FIRST NOR WILL THEY BE THE LAST TO TRY!\n\n>chanting and thunderous applause\n\n>Now my beloved people,\nmy Comrades,\nMy friends,\nMy family,\nMarch against our enemy from the past.\n\n>We will survive through this struggle like the many times before.\n\n>We will be the victors and history will honor our strength.\n\n>IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO BE THE ARM THAT STRIKES OUR ENEMIES AGAIN!\n\n> FOR CRIMEA!\n\n>enthusiastic applause\n\n>FOR MOTHER RUSSIA!\n\n>applause and marching of armies\n\nEnd of Document...\n\n\n\n\n " ]	6
	[WP] You woke up on top of a building today.	[ "Donson looked out over Manhatten. His brother was somewhere out there, and he knew that he had to find the man. His brother had killed JFK and would not stand justice unless Donson could find him, because nobody knew what he had done.\n\n\"Brother, I swear I will revenge JFK!!!!!! I will revenge him all over your face!!!\"\n\nDonson cursed the grave and cast six arrows into the sprawling metropolis. None of them hit the mark, although two of them killed random civilians and one of them started a gas fire.\n\nDonson used a grappling hook and grappled to ground level where he met with his contact Donwin. \n\n\"So Donson, you have not found your brother yet?\", Donwin laughed over his massive gut.\n\n\"No, but need I not?!\"\n\n\"Indeed.\"\n\nDonson stabbed Donwin in the dick and moved to strike his throat.\n\nDonwin did a spinning back kick and killed Donson in the face.\n\nDonson was dead and Donwin laughed maniacally.", "You wake up on top of a building, your head is pounding as you lay there, facing the brutal sun like you were an egg on a hot pan. Last night was a blur, you couldn't remember how you got up here. You replay what little you know about yesterday over and over trying to unlock the other features. But nothing comes to you. You weren't surprised considering all you could remember was your boss yelling at you for some work you didn't do.\n\nStumped, you get up, fighting back your urge to just go back to sleep. You sweep the dust off your white collar shirt to only realize that it was stained with many strange substances. Was that a bit of fresh mustard your hand just touched? Whatever happened last night, it was sure to be wild. With a long stretch you gaze at your surroundings. Bottles scattered about, most were broken and very little were still full, if you were stuck up here at least you had something to rely on.\n\nIt confused you. You weren't much of a drinker and you were never invited to any parties. No one really thought you were fun. You lived a dull life, having something like this happen felt like a strange fever dream. You walk over to the edge to see that this was a very tall building. Not high enough to go into the clouds but high enough that the people below looked like small ants.\n\nYou look down and see a note, taped to the railing of the building. You pick it up, careful not to tear it. Whoever thought that this could be noticed easily was not the brightest, thank goodness your sight hasn't failed you from the still thumping head pain. The note read \"I'm sorry\". On the bottom was your signature...Then it all hits you...\n\nThat's right. You remember. You were going to jump off...", "The sound of traffic far below began to grow faintly as the warmth of day crept over the side of building. Daylight. Could it be morning already? Unwilling and unsure how to explain last night's activities, one thing was certain - coffee would be a welcomed ally. The sun was warm, but the air cool and fresh. I coveted that first sip - if only I could manage to gather my energy.\n\nA solitary white sheet softly rippled against my sides, producing a shiver from within. My shirt lay crumpled beside me, alone on the cold stone. At least I fell asleep on a lounge chair - the stone did not look nearly as soft. Extending my arm I reached for my t-shirt as the chair began to rock. Last night's decisions made today feel tipsy. Wine was not a frequent choice of mine - but when indulging, the redder and stronger the better. Or was it scotch? My memory was foggy. Feeling reassured of my balance, I again reached for my shirt. Getting dressed was sure to be a required milestone in my quest for coffee that morning.\n\nA miniature growl (but of very serious tone) escaped the sheet as her nails dug into my chest. \"Stop moving - its cold here\". The true source of this morning's unbalanced movements revealed itself, or herself I should say. I struggled in piecing together what led me to this moment. \"You were right - we can see Canada from up here\". The girl from the plane!\n\nA set of keys jingled as they fell out of my shirt - only this wasn't mine - hot pink, not my colour. \"That stewardess must have spiked our sours!\". Her accent was calming in this time of uncertainty. It had been calming, almost sedative earlier during the bumpy flight from Dallas. Her blonde hair was slightly frazzled, and tickled against my shoulder as the breeze continued to compete with the sun. I was staring and I knew it. \"We need to find some coffee\" I said, in an attempt to shake myself out of an awkward silence. \"Soon enough.\" she replied, and snuggled back into the sheet. ", "There's a garden up here. \n\nI'm not sure why I'm here, or why there's a garden around me, but the wind feels nice. There's some fragrant flowers to my left that lend a nice calm air to the place.\n\n\"Welcome to Heaven.\" I hear a voice, low and gravely, come from behind me. I sit up to look and come face to face with the gardener of this place, tending to a bed of tulips. \"Not often we get visitors up here.\"\n\nI nod. I can't seem to find the right words to say, so I just watch for a while as he works. After patting the bed down, the gardener wipes their sweat off his worn and old brow and says, \" A fellow could use some help, you know.\"\n\nAgain, I nod. He leaves through some door - well, rather vanishes, I can't see a door - and comes back with overalls, boots, and a wide brimmed hat. \"Don't need any gloves, son, you need to feel the earth between your fingers.\" \n\nOnce I'm dressed, he takes me over to an empty bed, and gestures to a row of herbs. \"These need plantin'. Take your time, though, no rush up here.\" His voice is gravely and low, yes, but also kind.\n\nFinally I find my voice, or enough to speak three words - \"Where...is here?\"\n\nThe gardener smiles down at me. \"Like I said son, welcome to Heaven.\"", "The wind gets stronger the higher up you go. It's common knowledge, but you don't realize just how powerful it can really be until you wake up from the thump-thump-thump of rolling over your arms.\n\nIt only took a moment for me to fling out my arms and legs and latch onto the cold, gray concrete like a spider on a ceiling. A pipe snaked out of the monochrome roof and I grab it with all the strength in my body. Now I have the confidence to get to my knees. I immediately wish I hadn't; a quick glimpse over the edge reveals little flicks of color stopping and starting in chaotic patterns. A distance away, another tower of the same height as mine shifts ever so slightly in the chilling, biting wind.\n\nI scurry back, back to the center of the gray island. I hunker down, petrified that some errant gust will sweep me away into the endless sky, where only the birds roam free. Something calming is in order. I pull out my phone; it can't seem to connect to the mobile internet, but at least I have service. The faint roar of a distant jet tickles my ears as I fight to unlock my phone with shaking fingers. I check the date and suddenly everything makes such terrible sense. This is my punishment. I scream.\n\nAnd then the first jet hits and the tower shakes and I am in the sky." ]	5
	[WP] Goldilocks has to go to the Three Bears' house to kill them, but she discovers a secret that changes everything	[ "Prancing through the woods with the colors of autumn leaves being swept up and left behind in her step. Yellow, orange, and Goldilocks personal favorite, blood red! \n\nShe had her robe with the hood up and moonlight barely shining, but almost nothing could hide the pure evil inside Goldilocks. She had her dagger, tucked away in her tunic ready for use. Forged by the towns master blacksmith, Eurolend, cursed by the the daedric lord Dagon, who Goldilocks secretly worshipped. All was ready. \n\nQuietly speed walking up the hill, Goldilocks came to the ridge. On the other end she spied the house of those damned three bears. I'll rip the pelts of their dead, desecrated bodies and offer them to my lordship, Dagon. Goldilocks thought. Nobody stole fresh honey from Goldilocks. Nobody. \n\nCrossing the ridge quietly, she came to the porch of the house. She did not want to step on the porch, however; a creaking board might set off those bears. Suddenly, Goldilocks could smell something amazing. Apple pie. The apple-cinnamon smell filled her nostrils as she let out a sly smile. Not because Goldilocks was hungry, but because she realized Momma Bear must have made a pie that night and left it to cool on the windowsill. An open one. \n\nGoldilocks crept around the house, careful of twigs lying on the ground, dead from the coming winter. Her nose were her eyes for a moment; she went where the smell was the sweetest. Finally, the open windowsill revealed itself to the devilish eyes of Goldilocks. Taking the pie itself, she tossed it onto the ground, landing with a massive splat and spilling apple-filling everywhere. Goldilocks smiled. She crept into the open window, carefully holding her dagger as to not lose it or cut herself.\n\nThe kitchen was empty except for the lingering smell of apple pie. Goldilocks crouched and unsheathed the dagger, in case any bear decided to get up for a midnight snack. She crept into the family room of the house; nobody was there. They all must have gone to bed, upstairs. Goldilocks faced her second challenge: the stairs. They were old, with steps held together by ancient, cracked wood beams. They would surely creak under her step, exposing the whole plan to the bears who would surely be awaken. \n\nGoldilocks decided the best choice was to crawl along the old wooden beams that held the stairs; they were more steady and would barely creak. Holding onto the railing, foot after foot balancing on the side of the beam, finally coming to the final landing at the top of the stairs. Little noise had been made. Goldilocks smiled again and pulled out her dagger. \n\nFirst, Papa Bear would be the first to be declared deceased, servant to Lord Dagon in Oblivion. Creeping in the hallway, Goldilocks came to the master bedroom. He could see the hunk that was Papa Bear, sleeping his final slumber next to his wife to soon join him in Oblivion, Mama Bear.\n\nHolding the dagger high in the air over her head, Goldilocks screamed out \"Hail Lord Dagon!\" before bringing the knife down onto Papa Bear... Or did she? Goldilocks stopped for a moment. Wait, she thought, there was no resistance in that blow... Almost as if I stabbed a sack full of leaves... Goldilocks quickly lifted the covers and discovered the horrid truth; a bear belt covering a sack full of flour. \n\n\"That means..\" Goldilocks tried to speak, but she had no time. She was quickly lifted up into the air, held by her neck, struggling for air. She dropped the dagger on the ground, landing onto the floor with a metal clank. She looked behind her, only to see the titan she had just tried to murder, holding her by her neck: Papa Bear, with his wife, Mama Bear standing next to him, holding the dagger Goldilocks had dropped. \n\n\"Don't think we don't have spies, you idiot girl.\" Papa Bear said in his dark, deep, unwavering voice. His wife smiled. Goldilocks tried to speak but she couldn't. Papa Bear began walking slowly out of his room, the floorboards thundering and creaking with every massive step, still holding Goldilocks by her neck in his massive hands. \"This is where we take little shits like you.\" Papa Bear spoke again. Goldilocks was afraid. How had they known? How had they gotten the jump on her?\n\nPapa Bear opened a door in his kitchen which revealed a set of stones stairs leading into a basement. \"In case you're wondering, dear,\" Mama Bear said in a hushed, calm voice, \"this is our secret torture chamber. We get people like you every other week, so we had this installed.\" She let out a chuckle. Goldilocks eyes grew wide with fear. She didn't expect this. She didn't want to die. Papa Bear entered a room, the wood had faded to solid iron on the walls, pipes opening from all angles. In this room they entered lied a single chair, bolted to the ground. Papa Bear slammed Goldilocks into the chair and strapped her arms and legs onto the chair. She couldn't move. She began to scream. Mama Bear quickly walked over and put a gag around Goldilocks head. She couldn't scream anymore. Mama and Papa Bear left the room and slammed the iron door shut, locking it. Goldilocks quickly looked around for another way out. She saw nothing. In the corner was a skeleton of a humanoid, covered in blood. \n\nGoldilocks looked straight ahead and saw Papa and Mama Bear staring at her from the other side of the glass. It was not quite soundproof; she could hear them.\n\"Ahaha, wife, what method today? Flames? Taking a knife to her throat? Starving her slowly?\" \n\"You know, honey,\" Mama Bear said in a malicious voice, \"there was a storm recently; water pump is running high. We need it emptied.\" She winked at her husband. \nPapa Bear stared at her, praising her cleverness, \"This is why I married you! Drowning a slow death it is then, Goldilocks. Goodbye!\" He flipped a switch on his dashboard and this effects were instant. Water began to flood the chamber from 3 different pipes at an alarming rate. Goldilocks panicked and tried to break free, struggling, but it was no use. The water was up to her neck in level now. She stared up at the ceiling and prayed, Lord Dagon, take me.\n\nWater covered her whole body now, lost to the murky depths of the torture chamber. The last thing she heard was Papa and Mama Bear laughing. ", "They told me that it would easy. I’d be in and out just like that. A quick bang, bang, bang, and it would be over.\n\nAnd I trusted then. \n\nIt’s not that I haven’t killed before. I’d gotten over the fear of killing long ago. This was my job, something I had to do to live. I’d worked for them for years, acquiring any criminal wanted dead or alive. Being a small, fragile looking woman, killing was the only way I could apprehend my bounty. So, I got used to it. It’s not so bad after a while. Especially when you realize those you bring in have done terrible thing, far worse than death. \n\nBut maybe that’s just something I tell myself. \n\nThese criminals were serial thieves who went throughout the city terrorizing men, women, and children alike. They needed to be stopped and I was there to stop them. \n\nThat morning I got up, pulling my long, blonde, curly hair into a ponytail, and grabbed my gun and communicating device, running out of the house. I knew where to go. After a short period of running through the woods, I reached a cottage in a clearing. I pressed my hand to my communication device.\n\n“Code name Goldilocks ready and awaiting further instructions.” \n\n“There should be a mail box with a name on it. The…” \n\n“Bears,” I finished.\n\n“Yes, Mr. and Mrs. Bear and their son. Infiltrate the home and do the job.”\n\nWithout hesitation, I knocked on the door, my gun at easy access. I knocked once and waited. Then, I knocked again and waited. And knocked a third time and waited. \n\nNo answer. \n\nHmm, I thought to myself. Where were they? According to the data, the Bear family was habitually home at this time. So, like any other paid assassin, I turned the nob, found it unlocked, and entered like I was a family friend coming for a visit. \n\n“Hello!” I sang into the cottage, hoping to get some answer. \n\nNo answer. \n\nI snuck farther into the house, reaching the kitchen. On the table, in the middle of the room, rested three bowls of what I could only guess was porridge. I breathed in the cinnamon-y flavor, my stomach rumbling. I hadn’t had any breakfast. For a moment, I considered taking a short break just for a taste, but remember why I was there. It was time to end The Bear Family.\n\nI strolled from the kitchen into the family room. Three plush chairs sat, facing the TBV, beckoning me to sit. I wanted too experience the soothing comfort of their reclining backs. But, once again, I couldn’t.\n\nAs I mounted the stairs, I imagined the plushness of their Tempurpedic beds, thinking of how I’d rather be in bed than on the job. \n\nI had almost convinced my self a nap would be fine, when I saw it.\n\nRed. Everywhere. \n\nIt covered the floor, walls, and ceiling. The plush beds and wooden furniture. Amidst the red lay three lumps. One large, one medium, and one small. As I stepped closer, I realized what they were. \n\nThe Bear Family. \n\nI clicked my earpiece on. \n\n“Goldilocks reporting a conflict of interest involving the Bear Family job.”\n\nThere was a responding click and a pause, and then a voice spoke.\n\n“Goldilocks, we have noted your conflict and regret to tell you there is not conflict of interest.”\n\nConfused, I spoke. “The job appears to have been taken care of by an alternate party.”\n\n“Indeed it was,” the voice said, “but that is not an accident.” \nI opened my mouth, but stopped as I felt it pressed to my temple. I heard the clicked and my stomach dropped. \n\n“Goldilocks you have been terminated.” \n\nAnd then I head a bang. " ]	2
Just you and the man. Or woman, if you prefer.	[WP] You're on an elevator with a strange man when it gets stuck between floors. During the long wait, he takes the time to tell you he's a murderer.	[ "Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrungh.\n\nThe elevator stopped. Where was I again? According to my calculations, somewhere between the fifteenth and sixteenth floor. Can't these people fix this 35 year old box? I took a deep breath and pulled out my phone.\n\nNo service. Goddammit. No WiFi either. A building with 23 floors and no decent WiFi.\n\nI sighed, put my phone in my pocket and looked at the guy standing next to me. Cropped hair, frameless glasses and a French beard. He wore a red shirt and a red jeans pant, like a human STOP sign. I sighed, and, unfortunately, we made eye contact.\n\nShit. I have to talk to him now.\n\n\"Hi\" I said, and smiled.\n\"Hi\" he said, without a hint of an expression.\n\n\"Continue the conversation\" my mind ran.\n\n\"How long do you think it will take for the service crew to rescue us?\" I asked. Whoever was in charge of elevator music had a strange mentality I feel,\"Another One Bites The Dust\" began playing.\n\n\"About an hour. Maybe more. This office has a shitty taskforce.\"\n\n\"Nice outfit you have.\"\n\n\"The red and red? it serves my purpose very well.\"\n\n\"What do you mean? Are you the guy who makes the tomato sauce? I gotta tell you, it's way too sweet.\"\n\nHe pulled out a knife. The realization struck me like a bolt of lightning sent by a constipated Zeus.\n\n\"You... you're a murderer?\"\n\n\"I was a cop. Now I am a cop... by MY RULES.\"\n\nI backed towards the corner of the elevator, silently praying that the elevator crew came in quickly.\n\nI shivered. \"What's your business here?\"\n\n\"I'm here to kill Lesgan Slavelad.\"\n\nThat was me. \n\nHere I was, in a 5' x 5' cubicle, making conversation with my killer, with no hope of being rescued.\n\n\"Why do you want to kill him?\"\n\n\"He doesn't adhere to the rules of the Guild.\"\n\n\"What Guild? What rules? Can you elaborate?\"\n\n\"We kill immigrants who don't lick our shoes when they're muddy. We're the Supremacy Guild. This guy, Lesgan, punched my stomach and got into a Corvette before running off. I traced the Corvette to this building, and have tracked him down. he must be in the 20th floor now.\"\n\nGuess my late arrival to the office gave me a ray of hope. I still had to find an escape route. He didn't know I was the target... Or he did.\n\n\"How many people have you killed?\"\n\n\"Many. I remember a few of them vividly. I burnt the house of a refugee from Iraq, shot an Englishman in the head, cut a Japanese in two with a chainsaw, which was when I decided to wear red and red for the missions, and placed a bomb in the car of a family that had come in from Egypt.\n\nShit. I came here last year from Sydney, and had a bit of Australian accent left.\n\nHe pointed his knife at me. \"You look vaguely similar.\"\n\n\"Guess there is someone like me.\"\n\n\"You Australian?\"\n\nShit. Shit. Shit. Shit. I was stuck in the elevator. I had no other option.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Lick my shoes, you kangaroo.\"\n\nI looked down. Apparently he had stamped dogshit on purpose before coming up. No. Way.\n\n\"No.\"\n\nHe pulled his knife out.\n\nI held on to my bag and looked up. The fan was running which helped circulate air between the elevator and the rest of the building.\n\nI removed my bag. He smiled menacingly. I hit his head with my bag, with a hook shot that would've made Matthew Hayden proud. He tried avoiding it, but the bag hit the rear of his head and he fell. Seeing my chance, I stamped his back and leapt from there, pushing the fan out of the way. it was rusted, and thus fell off easily. I climbed on top of the elevator and saw the ropes, something I had to climb to escape. \n\nMy visiting card, however, fell down, and when he woke up, he'd know who I was.\n\nHalfway to the sixteenth floor, I saw him get up. Cursing under my breath, I climbed up faster and tried pushing the sliding iron bars that separated the floor and the elevator shaft. Did not work. By now I'd attracted quite a crowd and soon a security guard opened the gate and I fell in.\n\n\"What happened?\"\n\n\"Killer... Murderer... Elevator..\" I gasped, pointing below.\n\nBy now he had jumped to the top of the box and, curse my luck, the elevator began to work. It slowly started coming up, and he was brandishing his knife. The security guard pushed me back and pointed his gun, ready to fire at the killer.\n\nAs he lift came up, he was now on level with the 16th floor. The lift stopped. Again. Now it was of no use, he just had to walk out to get me.\n\nHe put a step forward. The movement caused a bit of rocking, and the 35 year old rope that had helped me haul myself up, snapped.\n\nHe fell to his death.\n\nI sold my Corvette and bought a Dodge Viper.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "\"I kill people.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry?\"\n\n\"I'm a murderer, actually.\"\n\n\"Oh, all right.\"\n\nMaurice wasn't sure why the man told him that. They were stuck in an elevator together on its way up to the office, and that information wasn't helping them out of there. The murderer tried pressing some buttons again and leaned against the wall.\n\n\"Why?\" Maurice asked.\n\n\"Why what?\"\n\n\"Why... do you do that? The whole murder thing.\"\n\n\"Oh. It's not a career or anything. More of a side thing, really.\"\n\n\"I see. Like a hobby, I suppose.\"\n\n\"Yeah, like a hobby.\"\n\nIt was quiet. The cold-blooded killer scratched his stomach and sneezed. Maurice sighed, obviously bored.\n\n\"Umm, don't take this the wrong way or anything,\" Maurice started, \"but why did you tell me? I mean, do you mean to kill me or anything?\"\n\n\"Oh no, not at all. We're just stuck in an elevator and I thought I might as well tell someone after all. The only people who really know are dead, and these sort of situations make you feel honest, s'all.\"\n\n\"Well, it's not like we're goners or anything. I mean, there's enough oxygen here for hours, and I have a sandwich to share in case we get hungry.\"\n\n\"Oh that's nice.\"\n\n\"I suppose. But you wouldn't let me go if we got out or anything, would you? I could report you or something.\"\n\n\"Ah, that's true. I hadn't thought of that. Bad idea, in hindsight.\"\n\nMaurice tried opening the door again.\n\n\"Will you kill me then?\" Maurice asked.\n\n\"With what?\"\n\n\"I dunno... your... hands?\"\n\n\"It's difficult. Hmmmmm, how about this... you have to tell me something secret of yours. Something you've never told anyone.\"\n\nMaurice froze.\n\n\"Good deal right?\" the murderer asked, \"Then I won't kill you.\"\n\n\"Uhhhh...\"\n\nMaurice was rubbing his feet together. He was looking at the elevator floor. He looked like a child trying to ask his parents for candy money.\n\n\"Well, out with it!\" laughed the murderer.\n\n^^^\"I ^^^like ^^^hentai.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry?\"\n\n\"I... watch hentai. You know, like anime porn? Every night.\"\n\n\"...Okay.\"\n\n\"The ones with incest... those kinds...\"\n\n\"...\"\n\nThe elevator rattled and began moving.\n\n\"Well, looks like we'll live after all!\" said the murderer.\n\nThey arrived at the fifth floor, and walked outside into the office.\n\n\"Well, that was interesting,\" said the murderer, \"I hope you enjoy the rest of your--\"\n\nAnd then Maurice stabbed the murderer with a pencil, and watched him stumble to the floor. He stabbed him with it repeatedly, until the murderer lay there dead.", "\"Annoyances Day.\" I think that's what I'll call it. Today is definitely \"Annoyances Day.\" No, wait, that still sounds kinda weird. How about just \"Really Shitty Day\"?\n\nHeaving a deep sigh, I grumbled to myself as I leaned against the marbled wall opposite the elevator doors. The one on the right had already passed my floor despite the fact that I had clearly pressed the little green button before it started moving. It didn't help that the oversized potted plant between the two elevators had damn near poked my eye out when I reached for the button, and that just added to the list of the many things that had pissed me off already. \n\n\"C'mon, cmon! What's the hold-up, you hunk of junk!?\n\nI wanted to scream that out loud, but there was another guy here waiting for the elevator as well. Gotta keep my cool. Damned rules about how to behave properly in public or something.\n\nDING!\n\nFinally. I briskly strode toward the opening doors, sliding through as if I couldn't wait another second to put myself in a small, steel box nearly 50 floors above ground level. Could be worse, I guess. At least I wasn't claustrophobic. \n\n\"Hey, buddy, you gonna hop in or what?\"\n\nMy voice snapped through the quiet air, sounding a bit more angry than I had intended, but what did I care? I was already having a bad day, so I figured how much worse could it get? The other guy smiled and nodded, taking his precious time to get his things and walk over. I had to stand there and watch him collect his coat and briefcase while I held the \"open doors\" button for a good ten seconds. Thanks for making me wait, asshole.\n\n\"Which floor?\" I asked him, as I hit the \"13\" button on the side paneling. Some buildings skip that floor, but I guess whoever built this one didn't really give a shit about superstitions. Neither did I.\n\n\"Same as you.\"\n\nWhatever. I begrudgingly gave him a slight smile that was probably more of a crooked smirk and proceeded to ignore my new comrade. I purposely kept my gaze away from his eyes; he still had that dopey smile on his face, and I could tell he wanted to make some conversation. Probably wanted to talk about the weather or something else equally stupid. \n\n\"So...\"\n\nIgnore him. Ignore him. Ignore him. Look up toward the ceiling. Listen to the lame elevator music. Ignore him.\n\n\"Pretty bad weather today, huh?\"\n\nYeah, almost as bad as how much I'm going to want to strangle you if you don't shut up.\n\n\"I guess.\"\n\nSuddenly, the elevator shook like a sumo wrestler giving an elephant a piggyback ride had decided he'd found his trampoline. The lights dimmed as a buzzing noise sounded while a red bulb toward the top lit up. The creaking sound of metal confirmed that we had stopped descending. Great.\n\n\"Looks like we're not moving.\"\n\nYeah, no shit. Thanks, Captain Obvious.\n\n\"Well, not to make things worse, but I'm a murderer.\"\n\nWhat?\n\nI uncrossed my arms and stared at him, looking him straight in eyes now. They had an eery blackness to them, as if there was a strange void behind those small globules of fluid. It probably would've been unsettling to most people, given what he had just said, but I didn't really care. I just wanted to finish my business for the day and go home. Kneeling, he flipped open the top of his briefcase with a sharp clack and slowly drew out an ornate, golden knife with curiously placed carvings. The light reflecting off the intricate symbols on the handle and blade made it almost seem like they were dancing. Maybe they were, for all I know. I've seen stranger.\n\n\"I have to do this for my religion, you see. It's nothing personal. I simply have to take someone's life. I do hope you understand.\"\n\nI don't care.\n\n\"I promise I'll make it as painless as possible. Fair warning though: I have to stab you exactly 66 times.\"\n\nI don't care. I don't care.\n\n\"If you have any last words or something you want to tell your loved ones, you can tell me now. I promise I'll pass along your message.\"\n\nI. Don't. Care.\n\nI glared at him coldly as he gently pierced my upper chest with the blade. Aiming for my heart, most likely. Funny, given that he just told me that he had to stab me 66 times. Maybe it didn't really matter which one his victims actually died on.\n\n\"Why aren't you saying anything? Doesn't it hurt?\" His voice had a singsong pitch, like he was playing with me. That silly grin on his face was still there, as wide as ever. I could see some wrinkling in his eyes, though. Probably surprise at how I really didn't give a shit that he was stabbing me. By now, the steel had completely sunk into my body, leaving only the handle sticking out like an oddly placed decoration. Well, the gold color matched my suit at least.\n\nHe pulled out the blade slowly, savoring the feeling like someone would taste a succulent piece of filet mignon, before plunging it back into my body. My liver this time. Right lung. Stomach. Gallbladder? I think that's where my gallbladder is. Ugh, this is going to take forever. \n\nWith a quick flick of my wrist, I popped the knife out of his hands, causing him to jump back with a shrill cry. The blade danced and twirled before I plucked it out of the air and threw it back at him. I could've sworn the metal was singing as it dove into his throat, making his neck explode with a torrent of blood.\n\nHe gurgled as tried to speak, but the rivers of redness flowing out of his neck and mouth prevented him from formulating any coherent speech. \n\nOops. I probably shouldn't have done that. I'm gonna catch hell from the boss again. Hell... heh.\n\nChuckling to myself, I rummaged around in his briefcase and pulled out a business card. Whenever some random schmuck gets offed, accident or not, there has to be a report: name, address, life history, the works. I really hope they change the rules soon. All this paperwork is bullshit, and everyone in the office knows it. \n\nHm. Go figure. This was the scumbag I was supposed to take back with me today. Ol' Luci never tells me their names. \"Makes it more fun,\" he says. Right.\n\nIn any case, this meant that I get to go home earlier than I expected. I guess I'll call it \"Not So Shitty Day After All.\"", "It had been a long day. Tom Kineke had sprung a project on me at 4, just an hour before quitting time, when I would bear the 30 minute drive home so I could heat up yesterday's ground beef in a bowl. Heat it up, then eat it with a spoon as I watched television. I was going to sprinkle cheese on it to kick it up a notch. \n\nBut no. Kineke wanted me to do a presentation for a project that I knew jack shit about. Now I was leaving at 8.\n\n\"Rough day?\" a man walking onto the elevator said. I looked up and just forced a smiled. He turned to look at the buttons, hand raised to push a button, but he dropped his arm when he saw that I had already pushed the ground floor button. \n\n\"Yeah, not enough sleep, and the boss is an asshole,\" I replied. I wanted the next 23 floors to hurry up and pass by. I didn't feel like holding a conversation with a complete stranger. I was tired. I wanted to get back to that ground beef. \n\n\"I know how that is, believe me.\"\n\nA young woman came out from the side of the closing doors, raising a hand to place between the elevator doors, but then pulled back. I went to push the \"open\" button, but hesitated. The doors were already shut. It didn't matter. She'd have to catch the next elevator. \n\n\"Sorry,\" I muttered, knowing full well that she couldn't hear. I mainly said it for the man.\n\n\"She'll catch the next one,\" he said. \n\nIt was then that I first looked to the man. Like, actually looked at him, and noticed how fucking big the bags were under his eyes. His eyes were sunken into his skull. His cheekbones stuck out; they were almost pointy. His skin looked like it was stretched across his face. He had no hair; I couldn't tell if he was bald or if he shaved. He was wearing a black business suit; black blazer buttoned, white collared shirt, black tie. He fucking looked like a skeleton in a suit. \n\nThe elevator dinged several times on our way down to the bottom floor. We didn't say anything to each other then. It was around the 12th floor that the elevator stopped. We stood silently, waiting for the doors to open, but they never did. \n\n\"Huh,\" I said. I pushed the ground floor button several times, but the elevator refused to budge. \n\n\"Let me see,\" he said, and I stepped back to let him get closer to the buttons. I smirked and waited for him to just push the ground floor button again, but I admit, I was sort of surprised when I saw him press the call button. \n\n\"Yes?\" A voice spoke through the speakers.\n\nHe cleared his throat. \"The elevator on the south end of the building has stopped, east-side elevator.\"\n\n\"We'll look into it, hold tight.\" \n\nHe sighed and stepped back to his original spot, then leaned back against the wall. I read in a book awhile back that people felt more comfortable when others mimicked their gestures, so I did the same, and leaned against the wall. \n\n\"Fuck,\" I whispered.\n\n\"Yeah,\" he said, \"I'm going to be late. Probably won't even get to work tonight. Now that I think about it, I won't be able to work. Going to have to wait until next week.\"\n\n\"Oh yeah?\" I said, not really interested. I just wanted the maintenance to hurry up and get us unstuck. \"Sounds like a real time-sensitive job you have there.\"\n\n\"You have no idea.\"\n\nThe way he said that sentence, \"You have no idea\", I don't know, it just didn't set well with me. He said it with almost a chuckle. I should've kept my mouth shut, but I asked, \"What do you mean?\"\n\nHe turned to face me, neck popping as he did, \"I have a problem, umm?\"\n\n\"Gavin,\" I said, \"name is Gavin.\"\n\n\"Ellis. My name is Ellis, and I kill people.\"\n\nI nodded. We stood there, leaned against the wall for several more minutes before I realized what he said. \n\n\"You what?\"\n\n\"I kill people.\"\n\n\"What do you mean? You're a bad doctor or something, got bad guilt? Maybe an oncologist?\"\n\n\"Oh no,\" Ellis said with a smile. His eyes almost disappeared behind his cheeks when he grinned. \"I'm a murderer.\"\n\n\"I don't, uh, I don't really understand what you're telling me.\"\n\n\"Well shit Gavin, it isn't that hard of a concept,\" he said. There was force behind his words, a temper almost. He was agitated. I'm not sure if he was agitated at how dumb I was, or of how long it took for the maintenance to get things working. I'm not sure, I'll probably never know.\n\n\"Okay,\" I said, \"you're a murderer?\"\n\nEllis nodded.\n\nI was about to call bullshit on him, about to say that I didn't fucking believe him, but then he began to unbutton his blazer. He peeled away one side of it, and there in the inside pocket was long curved knife in a sheathe. The grip was shaped for fingers. \n\n\"I have been watching this woman,\" Ellis began, \"a blonde beauty. Perfect fucking tits. They don't sag, no, not even when she takes her sports bra off after her workouts. The way sweat drips down her back and towards her ass, Jesus.\" \n\nHe twitched. It was a hard spasm, as if somebody had blown in his ear. \n\n\"She lives in an apartment, by herself, no boyfriend, family hardly ever visits. She's a busy-bee, that blondie, always works hard, stays late at the offices on Beamonte Road, she's a secretary, you know? I'm guessing her boss is a shithead, makes her work overtime. \n\n\"Blonde beauty, she works so hard, and then she goes back to that box she calls a home, and she works out to the same tape. On Thursdays, she does the workout routine twice. The second time, she grunts, angrily, as if someone were actually forcing her to do it. She does that, then she showers, gets something to eat, then she sits on the couch and watches television until it is time to go to sleep. Then she does it all over again the next day.\n\n\"What kind of life is that, huh, Gavin? It's a shit life. I'm going to change that. On Thursdays, today, when she does the workout twice. In the middle of the second workout, when she's grunting and sweating, I'm going to kick in her door. I'm going to catch her when she's most vulnerable, when she's just fucking tired and drenched in sweat. I'm going to fucking gut her. But not today, she's probably already halfway through the workout. By the time I get there, she'll already be done.\" \n\nThen he punched the elevator door. Hard. Hard enough that I'm sure I heard a crack, and as if on cue, the elevator came back to life, and once again we were descending. He said nothing more. We reached the ground floor, and the doors opened.\n\n\"Good talk, Gavin,\" Ellis said, and he just walked off the elevator like nothing happened. \n\nIt wasnt until later that night, when I was throwing up in the shower, that I realized I had one week to save a person I didn't know." ]	4
We've all see the tags floating around pants pockets, in product boxes, and sticked to various things we buy. Tell us a story about one of these anonymous "Inspector #7" types. For an added twist, pick either 1914, 2014, or 2114 and be subtle about which one. Let us figure out which century you're from.	[WP] You are "Inspector #7" at a factory in either 1914, 2014, or 2114. Write about a disagreement with co-worker "Inspector #5" without overtly telling us which century you're from.	[ "\"Hey... Five...\" I asked with concern.\n\"Yeah Seven?\" He replied with guilt in his voice.\nI asked, \"What did you just let down the line?\"\n\"Another fine Wharton product.\" He mumbled to his feet.\n\"You know that didn't meet standards. I could have seen that a mile away. Do you know what might happen if that product leaves this building?\" I said while grabbing him by the arm and dragging him to the packaging station. \"Someone might die?\" Five said sarcastically. \"Shut up Five. We could both lose our jobs. Good jobs, that keep the roof up. You better hope 21 is packaging our cart, he would have our back, scratch it off the form for us and let us take it back to be reforged.\"\n\nWe walked into the packaging room and looked for our cart. 21 was at the station closest to the door as usual. Normally I would have made small talk and asked him if he saw the race last Sunday, but I could tell our cart wasn't there. I nodded to him and kept looking. The room was about fifty feet wide and five hundred feet deep with twenty packing stations and doors ultimately leading to trucks. Second from the end we found our rickety blue cart and whoever the packer was, he must have been taking a cart of packed and cataloged rifles to the final checkout before delivery. 5 stopped for a moment to wait for whoever would eventually come back. \"What are you doing? Help me find it and lets run!\" I said in a hushed but furious voice. \"You said you could have seen it from a mile away. What gives?\" He replied sarcastically. \"Just shut up and help!\" We started going through the racks to find the defective rifle. \"Did you inspect any of these? Your sticker isn't on any of... Wait! Here it is!\" I started to pick it up when the packer came back. \"Gentlemen. What are you doing at my station?\" I placed it back down. It just had to be 12. 5 answered back. \"Hey 12, How's your sister doing?\" \"None of your business you pervert. You need to stay away from her.\" 5 fired back, \"That's not what she told me.\" He gestured \"OK\" with his left hand and slid his pointer into the hole repeatedly. \"Wait wait.\" He Changed it to be the pointer, middle, and ring finger in a triangle pattern and put that into the circle of his left and then gestured toward his mouth and began groaning, \"Muwahgh muwaaagh.\" 12 slapped 5's hand and pointed a finger in his face. \"Don't you talk about her like that!\" 5 moved the \"OK\" over to 12's finger and began to stroke the air around it. \"What? You called dibs first?\" 12 pulled his hand back and got in 5's face. I stepped in front of the rack and started sliding my hand over the rifles to find our suspect. I was only half listening at that point while trying to look over my shoulder without being noticed. I stuffed the rifle under my shirt, the butt was sticking out of the bottom and various attachments were poking through the front of my shirt which would have been attention grabbing normally, except 5 and 12 were shouting by now and everyone else had stopped working to watch...\"MUWWAAAAGHG MUWWAAA! Is that quiet enough for you 12? MUUWAGHGHGGH GLUG GLUGH!\" 12 had a red face and wet eyes by now. \"You know what? You're mother... was a prostitute. She took dicks for money. You know what? I make more than you, they won't promote you because you don't take anything serious. Does that make YOU cry?!\" 5 grinned and replied \"Not at all, hey can this count as my annual review? I feel ... Introspective.\" I walked out and back onto the production floor. I took the holographic \"5\" sticker off of the top of the sight and slid the rifle down the reject slide. A few minutes later, 5 came back and sat back in his chair with a bruise on his face. He stared forward and sighed. I glanced at him in astonishment and said to him \"That was amazing.\" He looked over and said \"We are so fired. I didn't get the gun.\" I snapped my head in his direction. \"What are you talking about? That was the best distraction I could've asked for.\" He somehow pulled off a more astonished look than I did. \"Wait, you grabbed it while we were arguing?\" He smiled. \"That means you missed all of the best parts! There was this great part where I humped the cart until rifles and tools started falling off...\"\n\nI stood up. \"Mrs. 72! How are you today?\" She gave me a dirty look. \"It's a profitable day 7. But I'm not here to talk to you.\" \"She turned to the bruised idiot. \"5? I hear you had an altercation with 12 earlier. Normally I would have fired you for starting it, but when the guards came over to pull you two apart they discovered that a rifle he had signed in was missing. Rifles have been going missing before they hit the front, but we figured they were being taken out of the trucks. We wouldn't have known they were going missing from the factory without you. In light of that, we have a new opening for a 12. Would you be interested?\"\n", "Goddam this day. Everything's going wrong. My alarmbot has been ringing since I got on shift, and I've had to go to all quadrants of the factory in my first hour on duty. Production on \"antique chic\" benches has stepped up since the last episode of \"Hipsters: The Un-Real World\" aired last night. Orders have been pouring in by the thousands for the exact bench that Stila sat on in her artfully torn and faded jeans. You know, the ones that make her ass look like a perfect heart. Anyways, fucking Quadrant 3 has been smoking faintly since I got in, something in the boiler room over there. I've been talking to the Super about it and he keeps giving me the same bullshit - blah blah I have no authority blah blah Inspector 5 in at 9! \n\nI mean, I don't have time for this shit. The world is a binary of 0s and 1s right now; if I don't get production on target to meet todays consumption rates, I'm outta here. It's that simple.\n\nGod damn. My alarmbot is going off again. Maybe the inspector's here and we can get the smoke under control. I'm about to jump on a passing factory aircart when someone pushes me, quite firmly from behind. The air cart makes a slightly alarmed whooshing noise as I steer it off its path, rights itself, and continues on with slightly increased speed, no doubt perturbed at the audacity of a lowly Inspector. \n\n\"'Nspector 7, ya?\" Says a voice somewhere between a drawl and a hacking growl. \n\n\"Whose askin?\" I say, in my best factory-speak. \n\n\"Me ya fucker,\" snaps Inspector 7. \"What the fucks going on in Quadrant 3? I come in late one day and I shit you not, the entire floor is covered in smoke.\"\n\nAh. Inspector 5. He looks like an inspector 5, if that makes any sense. Slightly rounded belly. 5ish days of stubble on his sallow, greying skin. Purple-reddish skin enveloping his nose and upper cheeks. A fraying baseball cap covering what must be two years worth of unchecked hair growth. He looks like the guy that got passed over for the inspector 1 position, and 2, 3, and 4. Which is why he's here of course, worrying about the smoke in Quadrant 3 instead of worrying about his golf game like Inspector 1. What this says about myself... we'll leave that outta this.\n\n\"Look Mr. uh Inspector 5. We gotta get this under control. We're not gonna make consumption if we don't fix this like.. now. What do we need? Some tekbots maybe? A waterbot for safety? Maybe a hazwarebot?\"\n\nInspector 5 gave an exaggerated sigh and stuffed his hands in his navy blue inspector suit. \"Listen, Inspector 7, you seem like a nice guy. But today is not your day. Let me take care of this mess and Quadrant 3, and you go patrol something. Walk around Quadrant 1 and make sure all the grass is growing nicely.\"\n\nWith that, Inspector 5 walked away casually, glancing back at me with as stern a look as his bloodshot eyes could muster, and then he was gone, turned round one of those large metal silos that hold the \"antique chic\" white paint that goes on of those shitty benches we churn out at a rate of 5 per second. \n\nFuck this, I thought heading down the long green corridor to Quadrant 1. I'm gonna watch the grass grow.\n\nNo sooner had those thoughts entered my head and exited in a formula of conscious thought than I heard a mighty explosion - BOOM. Metal beams were falling all around; I could hear the screams of the various bots as they registered the disaster. \n\n\"GET DOWN\" someone screeched.\n\n-BOOM- Another explosion. Fucking Inspector 5 comes running around the corner, bloodshot eyes now wild and wide; \"YOU\" he yells, \"INSPECTOR 7. HOW IS THE GRASS GROWING?\"\n\nThe hell is this guy talking about? Why does it ma-\n\n- \"I SAID, HOW IS THE GRASS GROWING?\" Inspector 5's face is turning purple now. \n\nIn genuine fear for his life, I yell back - \"THE GRASS ISN'T GROWING SIR.\"\n\n\"THAT'S WHAT I FUCKING THOUGHT.\" A maniacal grin spreads across the face of Inspector 5 - if you can call him that anymore, truly, this guy has gone about as far from managing the working of a boiler room than anyone can get - and he signalled with his left hand; LETS BREAK HER UP BOYS. And with that, a stupefied body of tekbots stumbled forward. With the speed only a machine of such perfection can muster, the bots began to disassemble the plant. Not just the plant though.. these bots were tearing through the metal and the concrete and the plastic and the wood inbetween, and they were getting beneath the subfloor. Earth was coming out now, and the plant was being reduced to tidy carefully stacked piles spaced at even intervals between the bots. In the middle of them all stood Inspector 5, eyes gleaming as the bots worked. A scream punctuated the calculated destruction - the bots must've got to the golf green in sector 1. Inspector 1 must be very angry. \n\nThe bots were slowing down now, as the last pieces of the factory turned into small pyramids of industry - gravestones to a time and a place now past. \n\nAnd then there was silence - the bots froze in their paces, the factory was quiet now. The world was quiet now. And then came the final explosion - thousands of bots destructed at once, detonating on after another like little self-contained cannons. \n\nAt the base of the pyramid in the centre, a truly artistic masterpiece that resembled something like what was once known as a tree, there was a little green shoot in the ground. And with that in my view, Inspector 5 walked away. \n\nWithin minutes, it became clear that the eradication of the factory was not isolated - someone had coordinated with the bots around the world. Film production centres, consumer stores, factories, the whole kit. Gone. With nothing left of the old world except twisted, melted pieces of metal that looked far more like modern art than anything technologically useful, things began to slowly change. It started with the grass growing. Outside of grassparks* and indofields* the grass grew uninhibited. It spread and flourished, its smooth flowing surface punctuated only by the occasional rock or an errant wildflower. The carpet of the earth was blanketing over what we had created, and what was now destroyed. The binary had been wiped clean.\n\n01001000 01100101 01101100 01101100 01101111 00100000 01010111 01101111 01110010 01101100 01100100\n\nWhat will the new binary be? \n\n", "“Hey Seven, would you take a gander at this?”\n\n“Whatcha got, Five?”\n\n“Well, this press just isn’t stamping the components right. I can’t send these out, they’re completely unacceptable.”\n\n“They’re not that bad, look here.” Seven picked up the gear and wiped it with an oiled rag. “Once they go into finishing, the burrs will clean up and they’ll be right as rain.” \n\n“These burrs won’t clean, I’m telling you. There’re pits in the face, too. Central will reject them, and I can’t have any more rejections. I’m on probation as it is.”\n\n“What are you worried about? There’s enough to go around, isn’t there? With the war on, we all have plenty of work. Look at us, I’m 12. How old are you? 13? 14? Jesus, Five, you’d think you were going to starve to death if you lose this job.” \n\n“I enjoy working. I know I don’t have to, but sometimes people don’t want to exist on general welfare. I want to be more than this.” \n\n“We’re not designed to be more than this, my friend. We were put here to fit into the machine, like cogs in a wheel, like those gears you’re stamping. Put your head down, do your job, and to hell with the consequences. If you start thinking about things, you’ll get overwhelmed. Trust me, I know. Remember when I lost my brother last year? ”\n\n“I know. Sad business, that. But what if I have pits and burrs like this shit my press just produced? What if I don’t fit? What if I’m too flawed to be useful?”\n\n“You can’t worry about that stuff. We work, that’s what we do. Glory to the men whose faces are marred by sweat, and dust, and blood, and all that. Maybe if we succeed, we’ll all have something more to look forward to.” \n\n“Yeah, I know you’re right. I just wish things were different.”\n\n“Me too, buddy. Me too. That’s why we’re here. We can make a difference, but it starts with everyone performing their designated functions, remember? Central says we can’t win this war against the humans without bombing the planet into oblivion. So our only hope is to build these ships, and get the fuck outta here.” \n\n“Roger that. I’ll clean this up as best I can and get the press going again.”\n\n“Good man, Five. See you tomorrow.”", "The conveyor belt drones on. Robotically the inspectors check their items.\nPick up, spin around, Set down, Repeat. A slight smog fills the room. The only sound, besides the mechanical tinkering of the conveyor, is heavy breathing. You've become accustomed to the flickering lights and the constant smell of oil. The silence is welcomed and usual. For any type of chatting is forbidden. But then silence is broken. \n\n\"Jesus Christ.\"\n\nYou've sat next to five since you were chosen to be an Inspector. You risk a quick glance in his direction.\n\n\"Five, just keep your head down.\"\n\nCompletely neglecting your warning he stands.\n\n\"I just can't take this anymore!\"\n\n\"Five you know what they'll do to you.\"\n\nAt this point he is yelling and flailing about.\n\n\"I need to get out!\"\n\nHe throws his piece to the ground. Keeping your head down, you contemplate the risk of trying to calm five down. Deciding the risk was too great, you ignore his rants. A small red light begins blinking above the door; they've noticed. You understand what you need to do. So you ignore the opening of the double doors, the heavy footsteps and the sudden silence. What gains your attention comes a few minutes later. Another inspector, clad in the same gray jumpsuit as the rest of the inspectors, enters and takes the seat next to you. Without missing a beat, you look up, turning to him.\n\n\"Seven.\"\n\n\"Six.\"\n\nYou continue your work. Completely forgetting about five, and returning to your mundane life. \n\nPick up, spin around, Set down, Repeat." ]	4
You got this apartment as a bargain, $1000 a month, in this neighborhood? You didn't ask too many questions, then. Sure, the building is rather old and it's got it's creaks and quirks, but none of that bothered you at all. The rather odd second door inside the closet was nothing more than a curiosity. It was locked since you moved in. In fact, there's just an exterior brick wall on the other side of it, so you just assumed there used to be a staircase outside. But this evening when you went into your kitchen to get a snack, you saw a cat sitting on your kitchen floor looking patiently at you. The cat then exited through the second door, which had been left ajar...	[WP] There's a door in the closet of your apartment, it has been locked since you moved in...	[ "It's been there since I moved in. I never understood why it would be there, considering there's no way there'd be anything on the other side but a brick wall, but curiosity had me check every key I had, just to see if one of them would open the door in the closet. Not a single key in my possession ever did. I thought once of removing the door from the hinges and seeing what was on the other side, but I never did. Not that I could have; I'd later learn that the hinges were on the wrong side of the door.\n\nMonths went by after I moved in. I got settled, thrashed the place, cleaned the place, thrashed the place, cleaned the place. Crashed on the couch after weekend marathons of Netflix or Hulu or whatever torrents I'd acquired. I'd lived as a bachelor. I didn't know my neighbors' names, I didn't know if any of them had any pets, just kept to myself.\n\nThen, one day, I came home, dropped my backpack on the couch, and went in to the kitchen, threw the fridge open, and stared. I practically buried my face in the stench of mold covered up by baking soda and beer. Was that a cat? I asked myself, quietly. Slowly, looking past the stained shelves, I closed the door. Lo and behold, there was a cat just sitting in the middle of my kitchen. I was too dumbfounded by the presence of the cat to notice many details apart from the eyes. I couldn't not notice those eyes, man. One eye was the brightest jade green, the other a piercing blue. No sooner had I noticed the cat's eyes than it stood and bounced off into my bedroom with a preternatural grace. I followed, only just in time to see the thing slink off into my closet.\n\nGreat, I thought to myself, there's a cat I'm going to have to fish out of my closet. It's probably feral, and it's going to tear my arms and probably my face up with its claws. Fan. Tastic. I grabbed a couple of shirts that were laying on the ground and wrapped them around my arms before venturing into the closet. I thought I'd be prepared for what was in my closet. I thought I'd see a cat hiding in the pile of dirty laundry in the corner of my closet. I thought wrong.\n\nInstead of the cat, I was greeted by a blinding white light where once was an inexplicable door that should have been impossible to open outward thanks to a solid brick wall. The door wasn't fully open, it was just ajar, but between the darkness of the rest of the apartment and the fact that I was in an enclosed closet with a barely functioning $2 LED bulb, the light that came through was overwhelming. I couldn't resist pushing it open the rest of the way.\n\nWhat I saw on the other side put to shame every sight I'd seen before. It was a glen, the likes of which I'd only seen on TV. I didn't think these really existed anywhere, especially not like this. I mean, greens were greener, blues were bluer, and the air smelled fresher than when my mom did my laundry when I was a teenager. It was incredible! Then I saw her. I'd never seen a beauty like her before in my life: tall, tan, well-rounded and gorgeous. I couldn't stop myself, I took off after her, running for all I was worth. As I called out to her, I could have sword I heard a dog bark somewhere, but I didn't care. I only had eyes for her.\n\nShe turned and looked at me, and when I got close enough, I hopped up on my hind legs and put my paws on her knees. She bent down and picked me up high enough to look into her eyes, so beautiful, one blue and one green, the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen. And when she spoke, her voice drove me crazy!\n\n\"Oh, aren't you just the cutest little puppy!\" she said, holding me close. \"And your little feet! They're all black! I know, I'll call you Boots!\" She said as she carried me off, and from then on, I was her dog.\n\n---\n\nI awoke in the hospital. I had no idea how I'd gotten there or how long I'd been there. The last thing I remember was a woman with these weird eyes making me her dog or something, and then I was waking up with a splitting headache and an IV of fluids being pumped into me. Before I had a chance to properly freak out, a nurse walked in and asked how I was.\n\n\"I'm... where am I?\" I know. Genius, right? \n\"You're in the hospital. Do you know what day it is?\"\n\nI looked around the room for some clue, but I couldn't find any. \"Not... really. Last I remember, it was... Tuesday?\"\n\nThe nurse nodded. \"Yes, sir. You were admitted on Tuesday, but you've been here for two days. What do you remember?\" I told her what I could remember, about the cat, the door in the closet, and about the valley. She smiled when I described the cat's eyes.\n\nShe nodded, then said after taking a few brief notes, \"Well, it looks like you were poisoned, either by some very moldy rye bread, or someone who really doesn't like you and has access to lots of LSD. You've been in and out of consciousness for the past two days, although this looks to be your first real moment of lucidity since you were admitted. Although, since I don't think we've been properly introduced,\" she leaned in and offered her hand, which I took. As I looked up into her face, I could finally see, beyond the smirk, her eyes. One was the brightest jade, the other, the most piercing blue I'd ever seen. \"My name's Cat, it's a pleasure to meet you.\"\n\nAs my grip loosened, her hand slipped from my grasp. She walked towards the door with a preternatural grace, and, just before she stepped through, she looked back over her shoulder. \"See you around, Boots.\"", "Seeing the cat on my kitchen floor was probably the most exciting thing that'd happened to me since we signed for the place. I sniffled from the winter cold as I remembered that I'd have to pick up Charlie soon from night classes. Brenda would be home late and I promised her I'd cook, so between grocery shopping and driving over to pick up my son, this cat in my house had somehow managed to book an entire minute of my time. \n \nI put down the bags as quietly as possible, as though a slight noise would change the cat's mind about having waited here for so long. It didn't. The thing sat there and watched me. \n \nI had to put the noodles in the water, cut the vegetables, and thaw the chicken, all before I left to pick up my son. If traffic wasn't bad I'd be able to get back on time to catch the conference call with Ned Saltzer and Judy Winfry from Compliance about that thing with the thing. I really didn't have time for this cat. \n \nBut when it tilted its little head, I did too. \n \nI didn't expect it to run off to the closet and fumbled to turn the lights on as I searched around for where it could've gone. Charlie's allergic to cats and I didn't need any more cat fur littered around the place. That's when I noticed the small gust -- the sort that simply doesn't come from the bricked wall of a closet. The door was open. What the hell? I extended my hand through, and caught the sheen of light on the gold-metal surface of my watch. \n \nI had to soak the noodles. \nMy hand touched the warmth of air and a summer breeze. \nI had to cut the vegetables and thaw the meat. \nI looked through. \nI had to take the mail and the dry-cleaning and the checks. \nAn open field with trees like brushes against the canvas of the sky. \nI had to pick up Charlie and cook dinner and buy a welcome mat and catch the call with Ned and I stepped through and closed the door behind me. " ]	2
	[WP] A person unplugs an everyday item in their kitchen and finds that doing so stops time.	[ "Greg Thompson was a perfectly ordinary man who lived a perfectly ordinary life, and he liked it that way. He had no idea that his morning on June the 14th would bring such strange and wonderful things. If he did, he would have gone right back to sleep.\n\nGreg relished his morning time. When he woke up he slipped on his rust-colored bathrobe, grabbed the current book he was reading, and started a pot of coffee. \nThirty minutes later, there was still no coffee. Greg walked over to the stove and began to cook some bacon and eggs. While they were sizzling, he looked at the coffee-maker and fiddled with the buttons, trying to fix it. When nothing would work, as a last resort, he unplugged it. \n\nTime stopped. \n\nHe could tell that something was wrong because he could no longer smell bacon, and the sizzling sound had stopped. Everything was quiet and still. When Greg realized what he had done, he panicked. He didn't want to be caught up in any sort of fantasy tale, those were only things to be read about. He plugged the coffee-maker back in, and time started again. Just to be sure he wasn't imagining things, he unplugged it one more time. Sure enough, the stillness returned. \n\nHe plugged it back in, and left it that way. ", "The coffee maker always brewed automatically at 6:20 AM, regardless of weekends. Steven Shaw filled the water the previous night, ground his blonde roasted beans, although not the fair trade kind Steven was a cheap man and slightly racist against South Americans. \n\nHe filled his reusable filter and set the timer before bed. If he was going out that night he would prepare the machine and set the timer before leaving the house. This night Steven was a particularly lucky man and brought home a woman. She was dark haired and fair skinned with an athletic build. Unbeknownst to him that several generations back she was half Columbian, but this added an exotic intrigue that he couldn't quite pinpoint but never-the-less found alluring.\n\n After a freaky night of sex she woke up at 6 AM and filled the already full coffee machine with water. The resulting mess brought about a slew of foul language that awoke Steven who then went to the kitchen to figure out the problem. It was to early to fight so Steven stoically explained he had already prepared the coffee maker and he would clean up the mess. The woman who's name he hardly remembered apologized and had to leave for work.\n\n Steven reached behind the coffee machine and unplugged it to clean under it. With a bright blue orange spark leaping from the tangs of the plug to the socket the world stopped. Steven being a creature who's sense of perception was bound by time didn't notice. His date pulling out of the driveway didn't notice. A bird stuck hovering midflight didn't notice.\n\n The only being who noticed was an omnipotent creator who thought to himself \"It's about time someone paused that garbage I've been needing a chance to take a leak since I crucified myself.\" As the creator flopped out his cosmic rod and flooded a nearby black hole almost to the brim he wondered if it was worth watching the rest of humanities existence or if he should go ahead and wipe them out to make room for his next big idea, pocket whales.", "\"And then Roger - you know Roger, he's my Alice's new gentleman - he says that the whole thing's just a scam! That's right, he says that what we - \"\n\nSilence.\n\n\"Marjorie?\" She looked up from what she was doing. Marjorie Ashburn was a dear heart, to be true, but sometimes it seemed like the old bag's mouth just didn't have an off switch. Whatever had caused Marjorie to stop a story mid-sentence had to be something, indeed.\n\nSomething indeed. Jeanne started at the sight of her friend. In her right hand she clutched her usual mug of oversweetened tea. Her left hand was raised as if to drive home a point. Her mouth was open, like she was still talking - but she wasn't. She wasn't moving, either. She was just sort of...frozen, like a movie on pause.\n\n\"Marjorie?\" No change. She waved her hands in front of unblinking eyes to no effect. Oh, dear. Was this a sign of a stroke? She tried to think back to what that nice doctor on Regis had been saying. Maybe she should call the hospital just to be safe.\n\nShe walked over to where the phone hung on the wall. \"Just a moment, dear, I'm certain the doctors will have this all sorted out in no time! Don't you worry!\" She was talking very loudly, all of a sudden - she didn't even know if Marjorie could hear her - but her heartbeat was loud in her ears and gosh darn it, she wasn't cut out for things like this!\n\nShe had the handset halfway to her ear when she saw it. A black-capped chickadee, she thought absently. The little bird was suspended, motionless, just outside the kitchen window, its wings spread in mid flight. Frozen. Just like Marjorie.\n\nShe hung up the phone and moved to the front door. Pushing it open, she braced herself for what she might find.\n\n\"Mrs. Ellerman? Jeanne Ellerman?\"\n\nShe certainly hadn't been expecting Mormons.\n\n\"I'm sorry boys, I'm afraid I've been spoken for by the Presbyterians. Now if I could just get by you, I'm afraid I have to - \"\n\n\"We're not selling a religion, Mrs. Ellerman. We're here to ask you to plug your blender back in.\"\n\n\"Wh-what?\" She gaped. Behind the two men standing in her doorway she could see cars stopped dead in the street. The Rogers girls across the way were playing in the sprinkler in their front yard - only now they looked like little statues. Water droplets hung around them, caught in midair and refusing to fall.\n\n\"Your blender, ma'am.\" It was the smaller of the two men who was speaking. \"You need to plug it back in.\"\n\n\"My blender.\" There was clearly something she wasn't understanding here.\n\n\"May we come in?\" The taller man asked. She nodded mutely and led them both into the kitchen. There sat Marjorie at the little breakfast table, silent and still.\n\n\"I'm Agent Greer,\" the smaller man was speaking again, \"and this is Agent Soakes. We're from the Department of Reality Preservation.\"\n\n\"The Department of...\"\n\n\"Of Reality Preservation, yes ma'am.\"\n\n\"I've never heard of a Department of Reality Preservation.\"\n\n\"Few people have,\" said Agent Soakes. \"As long as everything is going to plan, you shouldn't have to see or hear from us at all.\"\n\nShe stared. Was she losing her mind?\n\nAgent...Greer? coughed politely. \"The thing is ma'am, your blender is actually one of our time turbines.\"\n\n\"But it looks like a blender.\"\n\n\"And it functions like one too, that's a new feature. But that little guy actually powers the time-stream for the entire tri-state area. I'm afraid when you unplugged it you caused something of a local temporal blackout.\"\n\nShe felt like she was three steps behind. \"If I hear you correctly, you're saying that my blender powers time.\"\n\n\"Well just for district 237, but yes, that's correct.\"\n\n\"Then what is it doing on my kitchen counter? Isn't it important? Shouldn't it be in a vault somewhere?\"\n\n\"We find that such things are best hidden in plain sight. If we made such a fuss about our...devices, people might notice and start to ask questions. Goodness knows what damage could be done if this kind of technology fell into the wrong hands.\"\n\n\"And I'm the right hands?\"\n\n\"You were thoroughly vetted by the department prior to the turbine's placement.\"\n\n\"Oh.\" She supposed she should feel a little proud about that. A sudden thought struck her. \"That still sounds dangerous. I could have unplugged that blender at any time!\"\n\n\"But you didn't. Not for thirty years.\"\n\nHad it really been that long? To be honest, she couldn't remember when she had even gotten the thing. She rarely ever used it. In fact, she had just been in the process of boxing it up to donate to the next church jumble. \n\nThat thought brought her back to the present. \"I just did unplug it!\"\n\n\"And we're here to ask you to plug it back in.\"\n\n\"Oh yes, I suppose I should.\" She thought of Marjorie, of the chickadee. She walked back to the counter where the ancient blender sat. They really should try to use it more, she thought. Maybe she would get Ed to mix up some frozen daiquiris when he got back from the Elks tonight, just like old times. Lord knows she could use one. She fit the plug back into the socket.\n\n\" - should really be looking into these reverse mortgages, he works at the bank, he should know after all, you see - \"\n\nShe turned around. The men were gone, but the world around her seemed to have started up again. Marjorie, at any rate, was plowing ahead with her story like nothing had happened. For her, she supposed, nothing had.\n\n\" - and anyway, as my Michael was telling me...Jeanne, dear, are you even listening? You look like you're miles away.\"\n\n\"Sorry, love. Of course, I'm listening.\"\n\nThe Keeper of Time, district 237, sat down to tea.\n\n\n" ]	3
	[WP] Write about a battle in a modern day world where the gun had never been invented.	[ "Commander Harbinger and his lieutenant slid through the tall grass pausing briefly when the moon showed its face. Harbinger listened for the sound of his men traveling in standard escort formation around him and smiled under his M40 gas mask when when he heard nothing. His team had been training weeks specifically for this mission and, with the exception of Lieutenant Allen, all were accomplished field agents. \n\nAllen had joined late to Harbinger's team, replacing Lieutenant Davies. The clouds parted, and Harbinger had to grab Allen by the ankle to ensure he stopped in the moonlight. Harbinger grimaced. Davies had been an asset to the team. He once again wished it had been possible to postpone the mission until her leg had healed, but infiltration of the camp was time-sensitive. Allen was green, but expected to go far in the service. If the mission was successful, he could have his pick of posts.\n\nAllen took out his scanner with care, then put it away without breaking radio silence. They were still out of range. The wind shuffled through the grass and his team resumed their slow advance toward the enemy. Harbinger mentally calculated the distance left before they could deploy their weapon. Not long now.\n\nThe wind died. The team froze in their movements and Allen checked the scanner again. He returned it to his vest and broke radio silence to send the team the signal. Harbinger felt a searing pain and then heard a small pop as his eardrums burst.\n\nHarbinger screamed to his men that they had been detected, but knew none could hear him. He continued to scream until the enemy's sonic weapon caused him to vomit. He rolled onto his back. Before the vibrations blurred his vision, Harbinger saw a green haze roll across the moon. Allen had launched the chemical weapon, despite his burst lung. Harbinger nearly smiled as the seizures began. If their chemical weapon got to the enemy before they could collect his team's incapacitated bodies, they might make it out alive. He would have to recommend Allen for a promotion. ", "Dodge. Parry. Riposte. The Barbarian's wild slashing attack left him vulnerable, a mistake that Matt could not help but take advantage of. His rapier thrust pierced the heart, and was quickly removed as he jumped away. Matt sidestepped one last feeble swing from the dead man's broadsword as he crumpled forward. \n\nNot all liked the Duelist style. They found it largely ineffective against armored foes. They hated the way a scrawny, lithe little thing could take down the best among them with a cheap, lucky blow. The rapier demands precision, and incredible reflexes. One cannot rely on strength to win. \n\nMatt soon found himself challenged by a hulking man in full plate, brandishing a two handed-axe still slick with blood. This beast was a veteran of a thousand battles. He had seen death many times and reveled in the carnage. Matt was good. He had the speed and patience of a true Duelist, but was also naive, and young. Six bodies already lay in varying stages of dismemberment around the Axeman. Matt knew it was his duty to stop him now, before any more need die. \n\nThe Axeman charged with his massive weapon lofted overhead. Matt saw an opening right underneath the chin guard. Difficult, but not impossible... he shifted to his left, narrowly avoiding a downward chop that could have easily split him in half. The axe should bury itself in the ground, giving Matt the split second needed to lunge for the neck. He committed to the attack, but his opponent had not. The axe had missed, but the Axeman checked his swing and instead sideswiped it in an arc back to his own right. Matt was caught in the hip by the flat of the blade, and his lunge missed wide as he was knocked off his feet by the force of the blow. He fell, hard, on his stomach. The axe rose again, but little Matt could not dodge what was to come. The last thing he heard as the axe bit deeply into his back was, \"Matt, It's time for dinner! Turn that game off already, you've been playing ever since you got home from school.\" With frustration both towards his mother and xxxGimli1992xxx he shut off the Wii. \"I bet that fucker was boosting anyway.\" ", "Their eyes, like their blades, locked with fierce vehemence. \"Taliban scum!\" the taller of the two roared, \"My daughter died because of you fuckers!\" The Taliban, wiry and lean, broke the lock and rolled under the sweep of his enemy's sabre. \"You American-loving fool! The Alliance will fall and Allah will judge you fiercely for turning your back on him.\" His enemy, a soldier of the Northern Alliance, grimaced at the insult and violently thrusted the point of his blade at the other man. The Taliban fighter stumbled back, the point of the thrusting sabre almost poking out his one good eye. He reached into the folds of his cloak as he battered aside his enemy's weapon. A small stiletto knife flew from his hand and plunged deep into the chest of the raging soldier. This only topped his enemy's glass of hatred. The soldier, fearless now, shot through with adrenaline, slashed a wide arc through the air. The Taliban fighter's head toppled from his neck with a sickening \"Splat!\" \n\nThe Northern Alliance soldier collapsed with the pain of the knife wound. He reached to remove the ugly thing from his chest but blackness overtook him before he could do so. \n\nA United States Marine Corps spear platoon arrived in phalanx formation expecting a raging battle between their allies and the insurgents who had ambushed them. All they found was the remnants of a slaughter. Forty dead Taliban raiders, a squad of Marines; one wounded eleven dead, the burnt remains of an interpreter, twenty-nine dead Alliance soldiers and one unconscious man at the centre of it all. An alliance soldier by the looks of his uniform, which was slowly turning red by the stain of his lifeblood. Three men broke the phalanx with the tools of their trade ready. A medic to the wounded Marine and another to the unconscious soldier along with an interpreter. \n\nWithin moments the soldier was awake and colour was returning to his checks. He would need a blood transfusion but his spirits were high. He had survived. This was a victory day. Allah had favoured him over his enemy. As the Marines of the spear platoon secured the location the euphoric soldier turned to the interpreter. “We will need better weapons American. Our enemy’s arsenal is equal to ours. Victory will come with a better arsenal.” The interpreter gave him a puzzled look. “You have the best weapons we can provide, you use the same swords as our soldiers. What do you propose?” The soldier thought for a moment, his steely eyes turned heavenward. “Portable devices that can discharge projectiles using explosive force.” The interpreter smiled. “Propelled how? By magic? Dream on buddy!” The soldier frowned. He rested his head back against the cool sand and clutched his trusty sabre, its familiar embrace soothing him to sleep. \n", "\"HARINDER!\" General Mathew 'Storm breaker' Augsburt shouted from across the battle.\n\nGeneral Harinder 'Golden tiger' Khannna turned around to see his old friend standing on top of a pile of his men. \"Augsburt, my old friend. How have you been? What have you been up to?\" Golden tiger asked.\n\nStormbreaker pulled out his silver Claymore. Stormbreaker activated the code on the handle which activated the electrical pulses going up and down the sword. \"Planning ways to gut you\".\n\nGolden tiger unsheathed his cutlass. The cutlass expanded and splintered, revealing a red like going up the middle of the sword. The line then exploded into flames. \"You and me both, old friend.\"\n\nGolden tiger ran towards Stormbreaker spinning his sword, making a constant ring of fire. Which then shot out towards Stormbreaker. Stormbreaker jump off the pile of bodies, which were engulfed in fire once he landed in front of it.\n\n " ]	4
	[WP] You're a slug with salt being poured on you	[ "I had always been a fan of escargot.... but I had been a larger fan of heroine.\nShe was like my best girlfriend: constantly making me happy... making me laugh.. though my life was far from perfect. She was my, well, heroine. I would have done anything for her, and I did. Murder, rape, prostitution, anything to have her in my life. \nHowever; it came as no surprise that when she caused me to overdose I ended up in hell. What did surprise me, was Satan's attentiveness to my favorite foods. He explained to me that since I enjoyed earthly sensations so much, he would make me feel every sensation at the same time and cordially invited me to dinner. \nI soon passed out.. I was under the impression that I was having a bad trip. \nWhen I awoke.. Satan was hovering over me with a greedy look in his eye. I was scared.. was he going to do to me the things I had done to so many unsuspecting women for cash? \nAnd then I felt it.\nA deep burning sensation in my abdomen. \nAnd as I felt the weight of my body being hoisted up towards the dark lord's opened lips I realized:\nI had always been a fan of escargot.\nAnd now I understood what it meant to be completely and utterly helpless. ", "My life was simple. I went where I wanted, eat what I could find, and harmed nothing. How could I harm anything? I was born with no weapons, no natural killing instinct, no desire to harm anyone. I lived my life with simple goals; eat, move, and sleep.\n\nI did not warrant this.\n\nAll I knew before it happened was a giant shadow loomed over me. A monster from on high that I could not perceive, much less harm. I could hear it's repulsion as it stood over me. There must have been more then one, for a conversation was being held. I don't know what the specifics were, but they must be talking about me.\n\nOne of them stepped away, but must have briefly returned due to the thundering sound of it's colossal feet stomping the ground. I tried desperatly to get away from it, but I was cursed with a slow crawl for my retreat.\n\nAnd then my personal hell began.\n\nSomething fell upon my back, something I had never seen before. If I had met this before, I certainly would never seek it out again. My flesh immediately felt as if it were on fire, burning against the substance this tyrant sprinkled upon me. I tried to quicken my stride to escape my tormentor, but the giants had no trouble continuing their assault on me.\n\nI was not born with lungs, vocal chords, or even a mouth that functioned for the sake of communication. If I did, I would have screamed until my heart burst and my lungs collapsed. I could not escape from this agony that such a cruel monster would inflict upon me. My body began producing mucus in a desperate attempt to soothe my searing skin, but it was doing little to help my pain. My muscles began to twitch involuntarily, my tail writhing uncontrollably as if would separate and retreat on it's own if it could.\n\nI cannot escape. This sidewalk will be my grave.\n\nI couldn't even think clearly at this point. My mind had begun to numb as my misery and acceptance settled in to my inevitable end. I lay there on the ground, limp and helpless. I could vaguely make out the sounds of my captors pleased with the nightmare they had afflicted upon me. They drew closer trying to get a better look at the damage they had done.\n\nWhat did I do to them? What offenses had transpired of my doing that warranted this? My vision blurred by my mucus coat, I had to lament in total darkness my fate.\n\nMy mind began to close, my thoughts slowing down. Sweet relief of nothingness filled me up, letting me know that I was done. This will end.\n\nI will wander this earth no more.\n\nI am in peace." ]	2
	[WP] A modern day Frankenstein's Monster.	[ "The lightning flashed through the windows, illuminating everything in a colourless, stark brilliance. The machine thrummed with energy, great cobalt bolts that struck out at everything nearby.\n'It works\" My machine works!' cried the professor. His hunched assistant laughed maniacally and threw the huge steel lever. The mutated beast in the center of the machine convulsed as the power of the raging storm overhead slammed into its body. With a sharp and deafening clap the machine stopped, an eerie silence descended.\n\n'Has it worked, Master?' queried the hideous assistant. The professor said nothing but moved forwards slowly, reaching out gingerly to pull back the sheet. His fingers touched the cloth and he felt the hard muscle of the chest beneath, it pulsed with a heartbeat.\n\n'I've done it,' he said in shock. He pulled the sheet with hesitant and excited fingers. As the white cloth slid back the twisted features of the patchwork face were revealed. The Professor pulled a small stethoscope from his pocket and placed it on the creatures chest with trembling hands, listening for anything that might indicate success. For a time nothing, and then, \"babum...\"\n\nThe professor started, his ears strained to catch another sign to prove to himself he had not imagined it. \"Babum... babum..\" The beat continued, steadily growing stronger as he listened. The barrel like chest shakingly rose and fell. It had worked. He, Eldebart Frankenstein, had continued his long deceased and distant relative's journey to godhood. He had created life!\n\nThe creature stirred on the slab-like bed, it's mouth cracked and it sucked in a great lung-full of air. As it's chest heaved the sheet covering the huge monstrosity slid clear, revealing the true ugliness of its form. Scars covered the whole torso and most of the arms and legs, the flesh different shades like a badly made quilt of human pieces harvested from the recently deceased.\n\nAs the Professor admired his work he noticed something. A small tattoo on the right bicep. A red devil. He closed his eyes, already dreading what would come next. The creatures eyes opened.\n\n'What happened?' It asked groggily. 'One minute we're singing along on the way to the game the next we're rolling down the motorway. Cor, lucky I survived, hey.'\n\nThe Professor turned to his assistant. 'Where EXACTLY did you get these parts from, Hubert?'\n\nHubert looked like a rabbit, trapped in the headlights on an on-coming shitstorm. 'Like he said, Master, there was a bus crash. A lorry driver fell asleep and hit them head-on.'\n\n'Do you remember anything particular about the bus?'\n\n'It was red, with little devils on it, like his tattoo, all over it, Master.' \n\nHubert backed away from the glare in Eldebart's eyes. The creature stepped forward from the table.\n\n'Can I get something to drink? You got any lager? And something to eat too, anything that's a kebab. And how long have I been fuckin' dozin'? I missed that game. That was the last game of the season! It was first place in the table to the winner! That would have been Champions League! FUCKIN' BOLLOCKS!'\n\nEldebart turned to Hubert. 'You brought me football hooligans, you moron!' he screamed at his terrified assistant.\n\nBehind them the creature came forward. 'Oi, where's that fuckin' kebab?'", "Some of us still remember the day they were set free. It was a beautiful day. A bit overcast, but beautiful. The light was soft, and it glistened off of the cages. The beauty was short lived. \n\nI'm not sure if I blame the scientists. If someone asked you if we should try to bring an extinct species back to life, you would have said yes, wouldn't you? I know they thought they were doing a good thing. It's not like they chose to resurrect velociraptors. These were just plain old carrier pigeons. \n\nI guess it doesn't matter. We all know what happened next. The carrier pigeons weren't perfect clones, and that .01 percent difference of DNA meant that their feces created an airborne toxin that wiped out 98% of the population. \n\nI suppose we're the endangered species now. " ]	2
	[WP] In two sentences, please write me the biggest plot twist	[ "Sally was keenly aware that he was stalking her, slipping in and out of the shadows where he hoped she wouldn’t notice his stealthy presence until she had already led him to her house, by which point it would be too late and he could claim her for his own. She didn’t mind, though, because she had always wanted a cat, and she knew that as long as he was following her, she hadn’t scared him away." ]	1
For clarification: Blood cells, hormones, platlets, heart rate, bone growth, etc.	[WP] A superhero who's power is that he can control %100 of his body.	[ "A gruff looking man leans against a beat-up cornerstore. He smokes a cigarette and watches the smoke fly into the atmosphere, when a small black car pulls up. Out steps a young lady, probably in her mid or early 20's, dressed appropriately for the hot California weather. One sun-kissed leg out of the car, followed by the second, clad in red pumps, dark jean shorts, and a red midriff.\n\nHe wolf-whistled frrom the side of the building as she swung a bag over her shoulder and shut her car door. Her pretty eyes rolled, and he stepped in her path. \"Hey, toots, do you know who I am?\" his breath smelled of alcohol and cigarettes.\n\nShe responded in an annoyed fashion, \"A waste of my time?\"\n\nHe laughed and threw his cigarette butt onto the pavement. \"I'm Motor Neuron.\" She smiled in recognition, \"OH yeah, you're that washed up superhero that can control his body, eh?\" The guy nodded proudly and moved to whisper in her ear, \"Every. Inch. Of my body. Controlled separately.\"\n\nShe kneed him in the groin and walked into the store.", "The key to keeping yourself alive in this business is to make sure no one actually knows what you can do. There are a couple of exceptions to the rule, Superion and the Scarlett Phantom come to mind, who actually will just tell you out right what they can do which will terrify you to your core, but for the most part people in the caped vigilante community don’t talk about their powers. This is because knowledge is the caped villains number one weapon against any masked hero. Weapon number two is the heroes true identity. Which is why Serpent and Myself are now shadowing a 14 year-old girl who thought it would be a good idea to do a photo shoot after trouncing and embarrassing the Heckler during a car chase. Serpent thinks she’s an idiot, I think she’s just young. The Heckler has a turnaround time of about 1 week at Alkarez State Penitentiary. This time he escaped in 1 day.\n\nCrusader threw up the flag when his web-bots detected that her photo had already been cross-referenced with her high-school’s web-site 2 hours after that Red-headed maniac escaped. She wears a red masquerade mask… not a good disguise… but as Rocket Girl she hasn’t ever slowed down from Mach-2 when there were cameras around. She’s only been doing this for 2 months now by my count. We had already profiled her, found her identity about 2 weeks ago, but had failed to make contact due to “squad protocol”.\n\nAt the moment I’m in suit, perched on a rooftop of a suburbanite house three blocks from Sara Templeton’s, aka Rocket Girl’s, house in Kingsford Abbey. I’ve amplified my hearing comprehension and shortened my own reaction time to about 3ns. My metabolic rate is about a quarter normal, conserving my energy. I’m listening intently. At this range it’s the best thing I can do out of line of sight. Heckler’s raspy voice is easy to pick-out at this range, but that’s assuming he comes himself, he has an army of jack booted thugs who would love the opportunity to hold this girl down and do God knows what with her. It’s bad that she’s a girl. It’s worse that she’s 14 and pretty. It’s even worse that I’m pretty sure she actually has no powers without that glowing backpack she wears.\n\nI barely hear the Serpent move up from behind me even with my hearing at this level. He’s very very quiet. “Ghost, I think we need to move closer”, Serpent’s deep voice has a tinge of worry in it.\n\n“I can hear fine”\n\n“I’m thinking something’s happening, but I’m not sure what”\n\nMy exposed eyes glance at him and ask for a clarification on that sentiment.\n\n“They sat down at that dinner table an hour ago and haven’t gotten up since. No one’s approached the house that I could feel through that oak tree.” Serpent had a number of grade A powers, tremor sensing was among the ones that only myself and the rest of the squad know about. Serpent knows about my sensory amplification abilities but not about the source of my powers, I’ve seen too many capes switch sides to ever tell anyone everything about my ability to control my own bodies’ physiology.\n\n“All right well I’ll …” I hear a light turn off in Sara’s house but no other switch turn on. “How many lights were on in the house?”\n\n“Just the kitchen, why?”\n\nI break into a leaping sprint to the house, I rarely move faster than Serpent since he typically uses his grappling claws for increased mobility, but there are no tall, durable structures around here for him to clip to. I’m in the front lawn before serpent has leapt the first fence of the neighbor’s two houses down with the dog in the yard. The dog is barking. I crash my right shoulder through the octagonal living room window.\n\nThe house is dark. I adjust my eyes so quickly I nearly blind myself on the glint of his blade as he crouches behind blood-spattered Sara. His 7’6” wiry frame behind her marks a terror in her heart.\n\n“Greenie? Wasn’t expecting you to come in through the window.” His pale skin tightens around his plastic cheekbones in his buck-toothed smile. KRAKOW!\n\nI’m blinded by the silhouette of serpent being torn to pieces by a landmine in the front-lawn. I’ve seen him take worse. I can’t turn my sight back on, I need to repair my retinas first… this usually takes about 30 seconds. I need to make sure the Heckler doesn’t think I’m blind for even a second. I didn’t wince at the explosion, that’s a plus.\n\n“How’d you get by us?” I’m calling all my white blood cells to my retinal cavity. Focus. Focus. Focus.\n\n“If you think I can’t sneak up on the serpent with that tremor sense of his than you are severely underestimating me. But really that’s just one trick he can do. Isn’t it?” His voice has moved slightly to the right, he’s behind the terrified teenager now. I can only assume the blade is on her throat. If I make a move he could spill her.\n\n“I don’t think you want to hurt this girl”\n\n“You’re right… she was never my target”\n\nSeven … no eight smells of men fill my nostrils as I’m amplifying my olfactory recognition. I duck low with a roll towards the window grabbing two pieces of glass while on the ground, I fling the glass in a crouch at crotch level. One of the two hit a metal object, the other is embedded in a wall. BLAM BLAM!! Two bullets move through my left lung and heart respectively. Need to make more white blood cells now! I close the bullet holes in my chest and back; I can’t afford my blood to fall here.\n\nI leap to the sound of bullets with swiping high-kick. Not my preferred move, but if I make contact I can then do some more damage. A grunt comes from my invisible target as I glance off his ear. He’s still up. Good.\n\nThree quick movements later I’ve snapped his ulna and radius over what I’m assuming was a decorative cabinet I noticed when I entered the living room. His screams are going to make knowing where the rest of them are harder, but I try not to kill men with pregnant wives at home, even if they are scummy low lives. The next degenerate who’s just locked his arms around my torso won’t be so lucky.\n\nedit: Nsfw", "Steve sat on his couch staring out into space. He looked down to his hand watch. It was getting late and Steve had spent the entire day on his couch. \"People need food.\" he mumbled to him self. He got him self up using everything he had in his body. All he had left in his house were a few boxes of cereal. He took his favorite brand down from the cupboard. All the bowls in the house were dirty, so he ate it strait from the box. Once he was satisfied he went back to the couch so he could continue. \n\nSteve was once a hero, using his power to protect the weak. He was strong and people were glad to have him. The city was just a little bit safer with him around. \n\nThree weeks had passed sense he vanished. Nobody knew where their hero has gone. Some believed he had gotten him self killed. He wasn't the strongest one out there. As time went on the people of his city forgot about him. Life went on nearly unchanged when he left. He was missed by few.\n\nThere is a reason something are left out of the control on the human mind. People can lose control and end up abusing such an ability. Steve had made a mistake while trying to fine what he had control over. He learned that he had control over the neurotransmitters in his brain. The small amount of dopamine that he released set off a chain reaction. After feeling this small high he decided that he need more. \n\nHis power became a drug to him. He would spend all of his time forcing more and more of the hormone out. Heroism couldn't compete with what he felt when he released more dopamine.\n\nNow he spends his time sitting around on his couch. Abusing his power for days on end. The outside world has no meaning to him any more. ", "\"Good evening, and welcome to 'The Superhero Decision', I'm your host Trent Anderson. Joining me tonight is a man you all know well, the multi-talented hero of Detroit, Evo. Evo, welcome to the program.\"\n\n\"Thank you, Trent.\"\n\n\"As you all know, Evo has been member of the Detroit Five for seven years now, but recently announced his intention to pursue offers from other cities. But first, for viewers who might not be aware, Evo can you give us a run-down of your power set.\"\n\n\"Sure, Trent. The one thing I would like to make clear from the start is that my powers are not evolutionary based, like Galapagos Man or Ms. Mendel. The end result is very comparable, but my powers are actually based on having 100% control over every molecule of my body. It grants me a wider array of powers, that at the same time are more powerful as well.\"\n\n\"Can you give us an example?\"\n\n\"Well...let's take Ms. Mendel's famous saving of 8 school children in Lima last year. As you recall, The Chemist was using nitroglycerin rain to attack the city, and Ms. Mendel used her powers to make her skin diamond hard, while simultaneously growing two large, umbrella-shaped protrusions from her neck, allowing the children to take cover. An incredibly smart and fearless move, to be sure. Ms. Mendel is a credit to the hero community. If I had been in that situation, however, I would have been able to turn my entire body into an umbrella, or perhaps a fully enclosed shelter. Again, similar tactics, but my powers might have been more effective at blocking shrapnel from the surrounding explosions, which could have saved Sally Jefferson's leg.\"\n\n\"So you're saying you would have been able to handle the situation better than Ms. Mendel?\"\n\n\"Please, don't misunderstand, I'm not saying Ms. Mendel did anything wrong. She's a true hero in every sense of the word. I'm simply using this incident to help highlight how my powers work.\"\n\n\"How do you feel about leaving Detroit? You grew up there, trained there, spent seven years of your career protecting her citizens. Any regrets?\"\n\n\"It's hard, Trent, it really is. I love Detroit and I always will. I just feel it's time for me to explore my options and take my career to the next level.\"\n\n\"There are rumors that you were not satisfied with the other members of the Detroit Five; angry at the Detroit Hero Commission for not drafting/signing higher quality heroes.\"\n\n\"Absolutely not true. The Human Calculator, Wombat Man, Lily Alabaster, and Captain Blue were all great teammates. My decision has nothing to do with their abilities, and I wish them good luck in their future endeavors. I know the Commission will find new heroes to join them that are up to the challenge.\"\n\n\"So, you've had many offers, and you've narrowed them down to three.\"\n\n\"I have.\"\n\n\"Tokyo. Ancestral Blade is rumored to be close to retirement. They have a real up-and-comer in the Frozen Tornado.\"\n\n\"They do. I've seen Fro-To work, he's fantastic. And Ancestral Blade...well what can you say? I can remember watching him single-handedly defeat The Crimson League on Christmas Day, 1999.\"\n\n\"Tulsa, Oklahoma. Only recently have they begun to field their own team, rather than relying on the Boomer Sooners out of Oklahoma City. Not a single member with more than 3 years field experience.\"\n\n\"They're raw, but they have all kinds of talent. They say that Scarletta moves so fast, even high speed cameras can't track her. I think under my leadership she would be a fantastic hero.\"\n\n\"Do I sense a hint of infatuation there?\"\n\n\"Stop it, Trent! You know I'm happily married! Don't you go getting me in trouble!\"\n\n\"I kid, of course. And finally, the city most are considering the favorite...Los Angeles, California. Comments, Evo?\"\n\n\"I mean, it's the Mecca, right? All the best and most dangerous villains, the chance to work with two legends like Sonic and Miss Marble. And hey, wouldn't suck to save the life of Tom Cruise, huh?\"\n\n\"So what's it going to be, Evo. We've reached that time in the program, are you ready to announce your choice?\"\n\n\"I am. It's been a hard decision, something I've really struggled with, but I feel that I have to take my talents to Long Beach.\"\n\n\"Wait...Long Beach? Do you mean Los Angeles?\"\n\n\"Yeah...Los Angeles. I mean, Long Beach is part of LA, right?\"\n\n\"Well, it is I guess, it's definitely part of the metro area.\"\n\n\"I thought that it was like New York, where people talk about Brooklyn, Queens, Manhattan.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I don't think they really do that as much out in LA. People in Long Beach don't say, 'Oh I'm from Long Beach', they say, 'I'm from LA'\".\n\n\"....oh....\"\n\n\"Well, anyway, LOS ANGELES! Evo is coming to your town! When you flying out?\"\n\n\"Soon as I get out of here and build me some wings, I suppose. Might stop by Vegas on the way out, see my man Wolfgang at Spago.\"\n\n\"That's great. Well, thanks for joining us tonight, folks, and thank you to the kids from Orphans of Supervillains behind us there, who will be receiving a donation check tonight for their quiet participation. I'm Trent Anderson, have a heroic night!\"", "\"They say he can control everything he does.\"\n\n\"Everything?\"\n\n\"Everything.\"\n\nIt was a dimly lit room outside of the Southport Supermax Correctional Facility. The new correction's officer was getting a lay of the land and getting suited while the veteran shows him around. They pass through a sally port where they get their weapons and ID checked, and come closer to the cell where the infamous convict was kept.\n\n\"He saved 300 people over the course of his vigilante streak.\" the veteran says with a laugh.\n\n\"Yeah, I heard about him. Government super solder serum, right?\" The rookie said with a grin.\n\n\"Nah...they say his dad was some genetic engineer that played god. The kid was born with some kind of deformity and so the dad just kept going at it.\" The veteran said as he comes to the locked solitary confinement cell.\n\n\"Did you see that clip from the phone cam? The one where he was able to parkour that burning building?\" the rookie interrupts.\n\n\"Yeah... Yeah... but did you see how he put it out?\" \n\n\"Nobody knows, right?\"\n\n\"Nah...we know. His own urine. He was able to increase the water held in his cells to their near breaking point, funnel it back in his bladder, and pissed the entire fire out while sweating enough to protect himself.\" the vet said with a shake of his head.\n\n\"You're kidding me... Isn't he some kind of supergenius though?\" the rookie asked as he peeked in through the crack in the slat in to the cell where he can see the man hunched over by a barred window.\n\n\"No...that's the thing. He wasn't born smart so he doesn't know how to increase his brain power. He tried once they say, but all it did was increase the limbic parts...the animal parts... It all went downhill from there. When we caught him, he couldn't even put together a sentence.\" the veteran tapped on the door to get the man's attention.\n\n\"So what is he in for? It didn't make the news.\"\n\n\"It wouldn't... Court still has all the details under lock. See, somewhere along the way he just lost his humanity. All he wanted to do was eat and sleep around, but nobody wanted to be around him, and nobody had enough food to feed him. He was like a machine of craving. Wiped out entire food chains by making his metabolism go crazy. Entire grocery stores, then clogged their every toilet, all within an hour and a half... not to mention the prostitution charges. We didn't even recognize him by the time we got him.\" the veteran signed.\n\n\"So that's the Everlasting Man?\" the rookie looks in on the broken man.\n\n\"No... No... that's not what he went by when we found him in the den of prostitutes... That there isn't the Everlasting Man. The Everlasting Man is dead as far as I'm concerned. That waste of human life in there that eats 90 pounds of food a day and goes through 4 rolls of toilet paper... You know what he called himself to the ho's?... Peener Weiner.\"\n\n\"What?...No... No way...\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"So what's his real name?\" the rookie asked.\n\n\"Cali...\" the veteran started to speak, but then was lifted off his feet by the metal hinges of the door peeling back and turning white, the door denting outwards with explosive force as a hunched and discheveled man leaps out and runs on all fours.\n\n\"LOCKDOWN! LOCK DOWN!\" tens of corrections officers yell out and the alarms start to sound.\n\nThe rookie falls back and starts to backpedal as the hunched man that had once been a hero to all...the Everlasting Man... stares at him with craven and perverse eyes.\n\n\"Listen...we can help you...\" the rookie begins.\n\nI learn help here...I learn help in prison... the crawling mockery of evolution and power whispers as he encroaches. \n\n\"Yeah...yeah...just calm down...\" the rookie says as he was trained to as he reaches for his service weapon. His eyes go wide as he sees the inmate pull down their own pants.\n\nI yell heeallp...heaallp...but no one care....then...I learn to like...I learn everything....fast... the disfigurement speaks as he approaches the rookie, cornering him, half-naked. Bullets come in from several sources, impacting the deformed body and dropping it.\n\nIt keeps moving. The spine shatters, the flesh erupts in blood, but like a crawling corpse, each limb pushes it forward independently.\n\n\"What...what...are you!?\" the rookie screams as he unloads an entire clip in to the oncoming predatory body, destroying huge chunks of flesh, but not stopping the slow and steady movements. Where one bunch of nerves or muscles is torn open by a shot, another takes over to continue the march.\n\nThe bloodied face lifts up after a bullet tears through the cheek and jaw, spilling a fountain of blood from the visage, smiling, hunger in the eyes.\n\n..Hhehehe.....ME.", "Tomas stood in front of his girlfriend, arms spread wide in a defensive posture that boasted a confidence he certainly wasn’t feeling. The man in front of him was brandishing a knife and had a wild look in his eye, his head tilted at an uncomfortable angle. He wore a strange smile on his face and spittle was running down his lips onto his chin. With a shuddering motion, the assailant took a step forward, closing that small gap between himself and his victims.\n\nJust then, a taxi appeared at the end of the alleyway and a large man wearing a suit stepped out of the vehicle. He slipped the taxi driver a 20 and then began confidently striding down the alleyway toward the madman. “Just what do you think you are doing?” The man in the suit asked with a deep baritone that seemed only slightly forced.\n\n“We’re just having a taste,” the madman said as more spittle flew from his lips. “Big man should mind his own business!”\n\n“Please help us!” Tomas yelled, hoping that with the man’s help he could overpower his attacker. At the very least the man could call the cops.\n\n“Fear not citizen!” The new arrival said with that dramatic tone. “For you are now under the protection of…Bodyguard!” As he exclaimed this he removed his jacket and attempted to rip his white button down open. Only a few buttons hung, but after a moment’s frustration he revealed a spandex suit with the letters “BG” emboldened on his chest. He then awkwardly undid his belt and removed his pants to reveal the rest of the ensemble.\n\nAt this point, curiosity seemed to overtake fear and insanity as the primary themes of the evening.\n\n“…Who?” The madman said, turning his attention to BodyGuard who stood in a stereotypical superhero stance. \n\n“Look at me and know fear, criminal scum! For you look at justice incarnate, the heroic BodyGuard!”\n\n“Allow me to rephrase my question,” The madman said as he wiped the spittle from his chin. “Who the fuck are you? A superhero? Are we really doing this?” As he said this, the manic look in his eyes was replaced by something more along the lines of exasperation.\n\n“Yeah,” Tomas interjected. “Not to be offensive, but could just call somebody? Unless you actually have some kind of powers I feel like we are all kinda wasting our time here.”\n\nBodyGuard squinted his eyes in annoyance. “You dare challenge the power of the heroic BodyGuard! I, BodyGuard, have %100 control over my entire body!”\n\nAt this point Tomas’ girlfriend, Amber, spoke up. “So, like, you have control of your body? So you can like move your skeleton and stuff? Or make yourself super strong by controlling your muscles?”\n\nHad BodyGuard been a normal human, he would have blushed. Instead he lowered his head sheepishly and in a more conversational tone said, “Well… not really. See that stuff is pretty set in stone, I mean, if I moved my skeleton that would be like, crazy painful.”\n\nThe madman folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head. “Soooo… what exactly can you do?”\n\n“Well,” BodyGuard said as his forced baritone crept back into his tone. “The heroic BodyGuard has %100 control over his body!”\n\n“Right, you said that,” Tomas replied. “So like, you can handle hot and cold and whatnot?”\n\n“Well no, I can choose not to get goosebumps though!”\n\n“Okay, that seems kinda cool, I guess.”\n\n“I have complete control of my bowel movements!”BodyGuard exclaimed proudly.\n\n“Well that’s a good one, seems like more a nice feature than a superpower though,” Replied Amber.\n\nAt this point the madman held his head in his hands. “So you have a very regular BM schedule? Wait, so how much percentage of one’s body do most people have? Cuz I have never really thought to myself that I sure wish I had like %20 more control. This whole thing just seems kinda arbitrary. I really don’t understand this at all.”\n\n“Well I’m glad you asked ne’er-do-well! I guess most people probably have like %45. Most of the body is pretty much automated processes. However! I, the heroic BodyGuard have %100 control!”\n\n“So what you are telling me is that you have to control %100 of your body? So all those automated processes like breathing, blinking, and digesting have to actually be done actively instead of passively? That sounds fucking awful!”\n\nBodyGuard thought about this for a moment and realized how nice it would be not to forget to breathe occasionally. “Well, you know… there’s the whole pooping thing.”\n\n“Yeah yeah,” the madman said flippantly. “Listen, you’ve taken up enough of my time, I’m just gonna stab these people and drink some of their blood.” He turned to look for Tomas and Amber only to see them disappearing around the corner on the other end of the alley. “DAMMIT!”\n\n“HAHA!” Was the triumphant response from BodyGuard. “Another villain thwarted! Know that wherever evil lurks, Bodyguard will be there!”\n\nWith that he turned around walked down the street, trying to hail a cab. The madman sat down for a moment and contemplated existential thoughts. He realized that maybe he shouldn’t be out stabbing people and drinking their blood, he decided that maybe, he should be an accountant." ]	6
	[WP] After the apocalypse, the only remaining survivors are the residents of the Playboy Mansion. Describe civilization 500 years later.	[ "\"Brothers and Sisters, we gather here today, 500 years after the Great Cataclysm, as we honor the father of mankind and his selfless sacrifice, so that we as a race may thrive. Let us bow our heads in remembrance.\"\n\nBeloved Sister of the Year Barbara stood at the rabbit-crested altar before her congregation, adorned in the customary vestigial garments of her faith: Bunny ears, a clerical collar, an unbuttoned red velvet dinner jacket that made no effort conceal her ample bust, skin-tight boyshorts with a rabbit tail-esque white tuft of fur sitting right above the cleft of her derriere, and 4-inch stiletto heels. Her chest rose slightly as she took in her first breath, beginning the sermon she had prepared for this most sacred of events.\n\n\"Five hundred years ago, the Cataclysm ravaged our society, rending the waters sour and the land cursed until all who walked upon it perished. However, through the divine will of the Rabbit, our revered father, as well as our divine Mothers of the Months, survived.\"\n\n\"All Hail the Holy Father, seed of our people. All reverence and honor to our Monthy Mothers, from whom we all come,\" the congregation chanted in perfect union. \"Amen.\"\n\n\"Yea, in the aftermath of the Cataclysm, the Great Father and our Mothers attempted, but in vain, to find other survivors by which to rebuild society. Finding no one, they resigned themselves to the most sacred of tasks: the re-population of this planet.\n\nHowever, this sacred duty could not be performed without consequence: although our holy mothers were young and blessed with many years ahead of them to raise up a new generation, our Dear Father, who had spent his life faithfully spreading the word of the Rabbit and the sacred beauty of our Mothers' blessings, had become weakened by the years unto the point of frailty. Alas, the very cause that he had dedicated his life to, in that most dire hour for mankind, would surely take his life. The mothers feared that, even by partaking in the ritual but once, his generous heart would relinquish it's last beats, and that the seed of humanity would forever end with his death. However, the will of the Rabbit shone down upon our birth father, and by grace's power, he was able to perform the ritual not once, or twice, but a whole TWELVE TIMES, with all 12 of our holy Calendar Mothers, before his heart gave out and his soul was carried to the greater mansion in the sky.\"\n\nThe congregation arose again in unison.\n\n\"Blessed be the Hef, whose seed is the seed of us all, and whose life was sacrificed for sake of humanity.\"\n\nBarbara choked back a grateful tear as the congregation remained standing in reverence of their holy father.\n\n\"The Hef lived a life solely dedicated to the grand design of the Rabbit, whose image adorned the cover of every volume of scripture he so lovingly published, he lived a life of peace, living only for the sacred cause of procreation. A life lived not as man at war, but as a boy at play. In the end, he gave his life to the cause he so selflessly championed, and asking nothing in return. That selflessness is what defines our new society, a society without war, or poverty, or hate. We are but simply rabbits, living a life dedicated to that unifying cause. It is for that cause that we will continue to honor the life of Hugh Hefner and the Calendar Models of 2014, whose lives we may model as we continue to live in peace and harmony with our fellow brothers and sisters. Amen.\"\n\n\"Amen\" the congregation replied, the spirit of the Rabbit permeating the room in an almost palpable celestial glow.\n\n\"Go ye forth, on this day, and honor them! In their name, initiate the joining ritual as many times as your bones may allow, feeling free to cry the name of our God as the spirit of the sacred action permeates your body!\"\n\nThe congregation erupted in multiple exclamations of religious devotion as their rituals commenced. Sister Barbara, now sobbing with tears of immense joy, looked up towards the sky.\n\n\"Thank you, Father.\" she whispered reverently.\n\nedit: incomplete sentence", "T\nhe cabin door opened. Two men walked in, brandishing weapons.\n\t“Who the hell are you?” asked Bill.\n\tDelilah lay behind him.\n\t“We’ve come to rescue you,” said the first man. “We’re taking you to a city outside Los Angeles known as Free City. It’s safe there.” \n\tAnother man walked in. They all had on black military attire. The one in the middle had blond hair and a crew cut. The man to his right was bald. The man to his left had dreadlocks. \n\t“Now, wait just a moment,” said Bill. “We don’t want to go anywhere.”\n\t“Let me introduce you to my compadres,” said the blond one. “I’m Max. This is Philip to my left and Carl to my right. Now you can either go easy or go hard. There’s a new ordinance in our city that we pick up survivors like you. We need you to help run the place.”\n\t“Well, we ain’t leaving,” said Bill.\n\t“Looks like they want it the hard way, boys. Grab the girl,” said Max.\n\tThe two men grabbed Delilah pushed her against the wall of the cabin. She cried. Carl unzipped his pants and started to unzip her jeans. \n\t“No,” said Delilah.\n\t“Okay already, we’ll go with you peacefully,” said Bill.\n\t“Oh, you mean this?” asked Max. “We were going to do this anyways.”\n\n•\n\nBill and Delilah sat near the bow of the warship.\n\t“Here’s some bread and water,” said Max. “Think of us as your saviors.”\n\tHe walked away. Within a week’s time they reached Free City. The city is laid in ruin. Sheet metal is used to construct watchtowers. Everything is rusted and people wear tattered clothes. The ground is muddy.\n\t“Well, here we are,” said Max.\n\tDelilah and Bill followed Max.\n\t“You’re going to be what some would call slaves,” said Max. “You work for food. That’s it. There’s no sense in trying to bring justice here. A band of mercenaries run this operation and we will shoot you on sight if you start trouble. Right here is where you can get your haircut, if you have money.”\n\tThey walked a little further.\n\t“Here is the bar,” said Max. “There’s your slave house down the road. It’s not pretty when it rains but other than that it should be fine. Because I like your woman so much I’ll give you 50 bucks. You can spend it however you like. Here’s your house. Work starts at eight so show up outside in the morning.”\n\tHe walked off. \n\t“Let’s go to the bar,” said Bill.\n\tThey walked into the pub. It was pretty much empty except for a few military personnel in the corner making a lot of noise. Delilah and Bill took the booth farthest away from them.\n\t“We have to get out of here,” said Delilah.\n\t“I know. I know. But how?” asked Bill.\n\t“We need to leave before they realize we’re slaves. Right now we just look like common folk,” said Delilah.\n\t“Okay,” said Bill. “Let’s go.”\n\tThey walked out of the bar and made for the entrance of the city. As they walked past the entrance they expected to hear someone shout at them. That never happened, so they continued walking. They followed the road until it was night. They set up camp in the forest beside the road. A car pulled up and stopped near where they were. A spotlight was attached to the back of the car. The car stopped in front of two men who were walking along the road.\n\t“Hey,” said the man in the car. “We’re looking for some prisoners. They seemed to have escaped. You see anyone walk past you?”\n\t“No,” said the pedestrian. “We haven’t seen anyone.”\n\t“Okay, then,” said the man in the car. He drove up the road and out of sight.\n\t“Shoot, they call it Free City,” said Bill. “What a joke.”\n\t“Where are we heading?” asked Delilah.\n\t“Somewhere away from here. We’ll head up the road and see if a city or refuge is there.”\n\t“That’s a shit idea.”\n\t“You got a better plan?”\n\t“No, but it’s still a shit idea.”\n\tBill and Delilah eventually reached Los Angeles.\n\t“We need to go somewhere safe.”\n\t“What’s that you got in your hand?”\n\t“It’s a star map. Shows you where the celebrities live.”\n\t“Gimme that. The Playboy Mansion. Ain’t no place safer than that. They probably got security guards and tons of hot women lounging around the pool. Hell, we may even meet Hugh Hefner. What do you think about that?”\n\t“I think it sounds nice if you’re a man.”\n\t“It’s safe. They probably got gates to keep out all the creatures.”\n\t“Demons.”\n\t“That’s what I said. All the demons.”\n\t“Okay, then. If you think it best.”\n\tThey walked a few blocks until they reached the front gate. They crawled under the gate and walked up the driveway. There was a hill to the left of them where the grass was brown. They walked up to the front of the house. The fountain at the center of the driveway was turned off. Everything else seemed normal. There were no windows broken or any sign of burglary. \n\t“Why ain’t anyone stole from this place yet?” asked Delilah.\n\t“Nothing to steal but food and water,” said Bill. “People probably took what they could from their own homes and left the city.”\n\t“Where are all them creatures? I haven’t seen too many of them since we arrived.”\n\t“They’re dying off like they were back home. Who knows why.”\n\t“Jesus, Bill. That’s why. Jesus couldn’t let us suffer like this for much longer.”\n\t“Maybe you’re right.”\n\t“I am right.”\n\t“That’s what I said. You’re right.”\n\t“Let’s go inside and see if we can find some food and water.”\n\t“I was expecting a more friendly atmosphere.”\n\tDelilah slapped the back of his head.\n\t“And what’s that supposed to mean?” asked Delilah.\n\t“You know, like naked chicks,” said Bill.\n\tShe slapped the back of his head again.\n\t“You know, Bill, sometimes I think you have dung for brains.”\n\tThey walked to the front door. It was locked. They walked around the house.\n\t“One of these doors got to open,” said Bill. “How else did everyone leave?”\n\tThey went to the side door, where the cooks and butlers watched television on their breaks. They tried the door and it was open.\n\t“See?” said Bill. \n\t“Hush,” said Delilah.\n\tThey walked in and turned right. They were in the kitchen. They checked all the cupboards but nothing was there. The kitchen was empty of food. They went into the butlers’ pantry. They checked the refrigerator, but that too was empty. \n\t“Dang it,” said Bill. “Ain’t nothing here to eat or drink.”\n\t“Let’s keep looking, honey,” said Delilah.\n\tThey went through the living room and into the great hall. A giant chandelier hung over the white marble floors. \n\t“Maybe in there,” said Delilah.\n\tShe pointed to the movie room. They walked in and heard something peculiar. They heard voices but didn’t know from where. Bill put his finger to his mouth. They moved quietly until the voices were louder. They were coming from inside the wall. \n\tThere must be a switch, thought Bill. Bill felt around the walls for a lever or something, until he gave up. He sat down against the wall and his head hit the back of a button. A loud buzz was heard and he fell backward as a secret door opened.\n\t“Who’s there?” said a voice.\n\t“It’s just me and my wife,” said Bill. “We’re looking for food and water.”\n\tA man walked up the stairs pointing a gun. He aimed it at Delilah and Bill.\n\t“There’s no need for that. If you want us to leave, we’ll leave,” said Bill.\n\tAnother voice called from below. \n\t“Make sure they’re not armed and let them in,” the voice said.\n\t“Yes sir,” said the security guard. He pointed his gun upstairs. “Move.”\n\tBill and Delilah walked up the stairs. They were searched. \n\t“They’re clear,” said the security guard.\n\t“Bring them down,” said the voice.\n\tThey walked down the stairs and saw Hugh Hefner and Crystal Hefner sitting on a mattress. There were two others they did not recognize.\n\t“Hello,” said Hef. “This is my wife, Crystal, my brother, Keith, and his wife, Caya.”\n\t“Nice to meet you all,” said Bill.\n\t“A pleasure to meet you,” said Delilah.\n\t“You’re just in time for backgammon,” said Hef.\n\n\n\n", "Milly shivered in anticipation as she saw the pink box on her bed. It had finally arrived. The teen closed the door behind her and rubbed the goose bumps from her arms before reverently lifting the lid. She lifted her graduation outfit and held it over her hour-glass figure and turned toward the mirror. The green satin clashed with her perfectly manicured red fingernails, but, other than that, it was perfect.\n\nIn a flash, she had pulled off her shorts and t-shirt and pulled on the black stockings, tailored leotard and matching stilettos. She held her breathe and pushed the bunny-ear headband over her head. Honey-colored curls fell over the band, and she grinned.\n\nPerfect* she whispered. She offered a quick prayer of thanks to the holy bunny, savior of all, then hurried downstairs to show her parents.\n\n“Oh, Milly, you look gorgeous,” her mother said. “By Father Hef, we’re so proud of you. I’m so glad you earned the green. It looks great against your skin.” \n\n“Thanks, Mom,” she said, giving her a quick hug.\n\nDad put down his weights and pulled his robe over tight around him – keeping all sweat carefully contained – before giving her a hug as well. \n\n“You look great, sweetheart. I still can’t believe my little girl is the class valedictorian and will wear the green bunny suit. But don’t forget you still have your final physical fitness measurements next week, then you only have one month off before starting your internship at the surgical center.”\n\n“Oh, don’t worry, Dad. I remember. I won’t party too hard in my free months. Plus, someone’s got to keep you and mom looking good.”\n\n“You better believe it,” Mom said. “I’m counting on you, Milly. You better not let me get old. I can’t run the power plant if I'm sagging all over the place!”\n\n“Don’t worry, Mom,” Milly said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll take good care of you.”\n\nDad turned her toward the stairs and shooed her toward them.\n\n“OK, girls, enough gabbing. Get up stairs and change before you get that suit dirty. I don’t want to see a speck of dirt on it when you walk across the stage.”\n\n“Yes, Dad.”\n\nShe looked down the stairs for just a moment to see her dad kiss her mom on the cheek before he headed out to the maintenance crew. After her free month, she’d have to pick a man, someone just as strong as her dad, so he could do all the heavy lifting and give her beautiful children. After all, every kid knew it took a woman’s brains and a man’s strength to build society, but it never hurt to be gorgeous too.\n\n---\n-172\nNot sure where exactly I was going with this" ]	3
	[WP] A bunch of old grannies try to escape the retirement village	[ "It was half past two. The time was soon. \n\nA shuffling outside of my door confirmed my thoughts and, as the down swung open with a click, a blue scrub clad miss sauntered into my room. \n\n“Your pills,” her mouth warbled. \n\nI complacently dropped them into my mouth and swallowed. It’s better they think I am docile, I thought to myself, folding my hands in lap.\n \nThe nurse plastered a fake smile onto her face and then trotted out of the room. The door closed and I was finally alone – at least for the next hour. I needed to act quickly. \n\n Quickly, I packed all of my things into my purse – lipstick, socks, a few snacks – then brushed my teeth. The person in the mirror looked old and frail, but I felt young and new. I felt ready for another adventure.\n \nKNOCK KNOCK KNOCK, my door sang as my heart skipped a beat. It was time! I ran to the door to see Gwen, an old child-hood friend, standing there with her finger pressed against her lips.\n\n“Shush, shush! Be quiet or they’ll catch us!” Her eyes sparkled, just as they had when we we used to cause mischief as children.\n\nI grinned. “Oh, don’t worry; I’ll never let them catch me again. I’m as free as a bird!”\n\nTogether we snuck through those sickening bleach white halls and with every step closer to freedom my heart felt a little lighter. The burden from my shoulders faded away. \n\nThen finally, finally, we burst out the front doors and into the sun shine. The light felt so soft and warm – it filled me until I almost began to shine myself. \n\nGwen and I ran away from that terrible, uncaring place, laughing the whole way. Voices called after me, but they eventually faded into a flat-line in the distance.\n", "It was dark in the common room, the only light coming from street lamps outside casting their dim orange glow around the room. Ethel and Gertrude had been planning for weeks, and this was the night they would meet with the rest of the grannies to get the mission started. \"So Ethel, this is finally it. Months of planning and sneaking around the guards have all led to this night.\" said Gertrude excitedly.\n\n\"I'm so excited I can hardly keep my teeth in! I think this time we will really do it! How long is left?\" replied Ethel, her voice shaking with anticipation.\n\n\"Not long now!\"\n\nThe clock on the wall struck 1:00am. Around the building, the creak of old doors could be heard as residents began to head to the meeting. \"Here they come!\" Said Ethel. \"Keep calm now.\"\n\nA few minutes passed in silence for the grannies. A younger person may of heard zimmerframes shuffling along the carpet in the hall, but these grannies were way past that. Eventually the small room began to fill. Nobody spoke until all 5 grannies had arrived.\n\nEventually, everyone got to the room and took a seat around the round table in the middle of the room. Gertrude, using all her strength, hoisted herself out of her comfy armchair and stood up to address the group.\n\n\"Now then! You might be wondering why you have been asked to come here tonight. Well, me and Ethel have been planning an escape from this place for months now. We think we have the plan figured out, we just need everyone to agree and we can get started!\"\n\nAround the table, the grannies looked at each other in astonishment. They had seen Ethel and Gertrude talking between themselves in the corner for a long time but they never expected anything like this.\n\nEthel spoke up next.\n\n\"Yes, this has been the main focus of our lives for months now. We have decided that at our age we may as well have a bit of fun rather than struggling to survive every day in this place. We need some excitement!\"\n\nThe group cheered.\n\n\"Shush!\" said Gertrude in a harsh whisper. \"We don't want to wake the guard!\"\n\nThe group quickly quietened down.\n\n\"Anyway,\" continued Ethel \"We have written each of you a list of instructions. Please take your envelope back to your room. Open it up tonight before you sleep and then hide the list where they won't find it!\"\n\nGertrude put her hands under the table and began to fiddle around. After about 30 seconds she pulled out a stack of envelopes and began to hand them out.\n\nSuddenly, while the envelopes were still being handed across the table, a guard walk down the hall with flashlight in hand. He had thought he heard a noise and went to investigate. 'Probably just those damn grannies plotting again, don't they realize how loud they talk at night?' he thought as he walked.\n\nHe entered the common room and shone his torch around. When he spotted the grannies all sat around the table he jumped, although he had expected to find them there.\n\n\"Come on now\" said the Guard, sounding annoyed but amused. \"I think you should all be getting back to bed.\"\n\nThe group looked around at the guard like rabbits in headlights. None of them wanted to be the first to move.\n\n\"Give me those envelopes\" said the Guard, walking over to the table and snatching the envelopes from Gertrudes frail hands. \"Back to bed now or there will be trouble!\"\n\nGertrude looked around at the rest of the grannies sat at the table. They were looking at her for leadership. Gertrude wasn't sure what to suggest, the plan had been foiled once more and she was already beginning to lose hope. She stood up and began to walk shuffle out of the common room, grabbing her walking stick as she went.\n\n\"Thank you Gertrude, now the rest of you please return to yo-\" WHACK. Before he could finish the sentence he was knocked unconscious by Gertrude wielding her walking stick as if it were a baseball bat.\n\n\"Come on everyone! Grab the keys and lets go!\" shouted Gertrude.\n\nEthel jumped up next and shuffled over to the guard. Lowering herself down, she stole the keys from his belt. A few of the group helped her back to her feet.\n\nEveryone slowly shuffled their way to the front door of the building. After fumbling with the keys, Ethel unlocked it and the grannies walked out to feel the cool air on their old wrinkled faces.\n\n\"So, where shall we go?\"", "\"DAMMIT JEFF YOU TOLD ME IT WOULD NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN!\" yelled my boss yelled while cocking his shotgun, \"what happened sir did some one paint a mailbox blue, or did someone have 3 rubbish bins.\"\n\"No, they want out.\" he says as I hear the sound of about 120 old ladies yelling like madmen with cough drops. \"your gunna need one of these\" I say as i throw him a grenade and grab my SMG... ", "I shouldn’t be here. Correction: We shouldn’t be here. My bones ache and my back just isn’t what it used to be, but I need to get out.\n\nAnd I’m not the only one. There’s Jamie, Alison, and Margery. None of us belong here. In fact, we’re not even sure how we got here. Every time I try to think back to the days before the retirement community, my mind just kind of…\n\n“Hello, Alice. How are you today?”\n\n“Huh? Oh, hello dear. I didn’t see you walk in. I’m just feeling a bit… tired, is all.”\n\n“Would you like to take a nap? I’ll help you onto your bed.” The pretty red haired nurse that I can’t quite recall the name of walks towards me with a smile on her face.\n\n“No, no. I am quite alright. I was just thinking of something when I just suddenly felt tired. Everything is fine, dear.” \n\nThe nurse’s eyes suddenly narrow for a brief moment before she smiles again. “Well, then how about some TV? Would you like to watch a movie?”\n\n“Yes, that’ll be nice. Thank you so much, dear.”\n\n“No problem. That’s what I’m here for!” She walks over to the TV and puts flips the channel to familiar movie that for the life of me, I still can’t remember the title to. This old age is really getting to me. \n \n“Well, if there’s anything else you need, you know there’s a bell right on the nightstand.”\n\n“Thanks so much dear. I’ll let you know.” I look over to the TV to another familiar scene of a man and woman lovingly holding hands while staring into each other’s eyes. My eyes steadily fixate on the glowing TV as I try to think of the last time I’ve held hands with the man I loved. Wait, who did I love? What was his name? The movie blurs and suddenly changes to another familiar scene, but this time a spaceship is flying through the air. I thought I was watching a romance movie? \n\n“Hello again, Alice. Did you enjoy your movie?”\n\n“Huh? Oh, yes, it was quite nice, dear. Say, have I watched this movie before? It just looks so familiar to me!”\n\nThe red-headed nurse furrows her eyebrows with a slight look of concern. A smile forces its way to her lips. “Oh Alice, it was your favorite movie! You were watching Pride and Prejudice!” \n\nI’ve never heard of this movie before. Since when was it my favorite movie? And who is she, talking to me like she knows me? I don’t belong here. “I’m feeling quite tired now. I think I’ll go to bed.”\n“But you haven’t had dinner yet! It’s only 15 minutes to dinnertime now.”\n\n“Then do you mind if I have my dinner later? Wake me up in two hours, and I’ll have it then.”\n\nThe nurse thinks for a moment before she relents. “Oh, alright. But you have to have your dinner! It’s important to keep your energy up. Do you need help getting into bed?”\n\n“No, no. I will be fine. Just close the door on your way out, please.”\n\n“Will do, Alice. I’ll be sure to wake you up in two hours!” The red-headed nurse walks out of the room and gives one last look at me before she silently closes the door behind her.\n\nThis is my chance. I need to get the others and leave. After a few moments, I’ll go across the hall, grab Jamie, Alison, and what’s her name… Margery! Yes, and Margery to get out of here! As I wait, the sounds of explosions from the TV break the dull buzz of conversation coming from outside the door. The time is now. I get up and open the door ever so slowly, to minimize the creak that I am sure is going to alert everyone. Then I shuffle my old feet step by step and softly knock on the door across from me.\n\n“Jamie! It’s Alice! It’s time to go!”\n\nThe door opens slowly, and a wrinkled old face hiding behind large reading glasses pops out from behind the door. “Huh?”\n\n“I said it’s time to go!” I whisper as loudly as I would dare. “We need to get out now!”\n\n“To where? Oh, alright. I’ll go. Give me a moment to gather some things.”\n\n“Alright, hurry up! I’m going to try to get Alison and Margery before we leave!” I shuffle my feet as quickly as they would take me across the dimly lit narrow hall. What were their room numbers…. 103 and 104? I suddenly spot them leaving their rooms, 106 and 107. “Margery! Alison! Let’s go!”\n\nThe look of confusion in their eyes was clear. “Go where? Alison and I are about to head to dinner.”\n\n“We have to get out!” Suddenly a different male nurse with blonde hair rounds the corner into the hallway from the opposite end. I give him a quick smile before lowering my voice even more. “Just grab a couple of things, and I’ll explain as we leave.” \n\n“Margery, what is this all about? Where are we going?”\n\n“Alison, just listen to me, and I promise to explain!”\n\n“Oh, alright.” Margery looks a little worried.\n\n“Alice, I’m ready!” The male nurse walks up to Jamie.\n\n“Where are you ladies going? It’s dinner time. The dinner hall is the other way.”\n\n“Oh, we just wanted some fresh air before dinner. I hope you don’t mind.” I hope he believes me.\n\n“Well, allow me to escort you lovely ladies then.”\n\n“No! I mean, no, we’ll be fine, dear. You should get the other ladies to dinner first. We won’t be long.”\n\n“Are you sure?” He has a suspicion look in his eyes. “Well, don’t take too long! We are having pizza tonight!”\n\n“Of course, dear. Alright, let’s go ladies.”\n\nJamie, Alison, and Margery follow behind me with questioning looks. We walk slowly towards the front exit. Another female nurse is waiting behind the reception desk.\n\n“Where are you ladies going? You know it’s time for dinner. Pizza night!”\n\n“Oh, we’re just looking for some fresh air out on the lawn. We won’t be long, I promise.”\n\n“Alright, well, I have my eye on you! Don’t do any naughty!” She gives a shorty, haughty laugh with a smile.\n\n“Let’s go!” I whisper behind me. We walk slowly out through the front door. And once out of sight from the reception nurse, I break the silence: “We’re captives here.”\n\n“What? What do you mean?” Margery looked even more confused than before.\n\nJamie pushes her glasses back up. “Wait. We’re captives here? You know, I always thought that place was a little strange. So many faces that look familiar, but I can’t remember their names!\"\n\nAlison’s eyes open widely and pipes up suddenly, “I think I know what you mean! That place seems so strange. I think the TV is hypnotizing us or something. I can never seem to remember what I just saw!”\n\n“I know what you mean. My mind always seems so fuzzy after watching those movies. I think it’s doing something to us. We have to get out.” We begin to walk as fast as our old legs would take us and don’t stop. It feels like we’ve been walking for eternity. My legs are really starting to ache, and for some reason, the sky is suddenly pitch black. The street lamps are all on now. “Let’s take a short rest on that bench there. My feet--”\n\n“Grandma! Grandma!” I suddenly hear a shout from across the street. The high pitched voice sounds familiar. “Where were you? We’ve been looking all over for you!”\n\n“Huh? Who are you? Leave me alone! We have to get out of here!” I try to stand, but my back isn’t what it used to be. It aches. \n\nA young girl from across the street runs over to me. She’s crying. Why is she crying? Who is she?\n\n“Grandma, don’t you recognize me? I’m your granddaughter. I’m Rachel!” She is trying to hold her tears back as she finally reaches me and kneels in front of me.\n\n“I… I don’t know who you are.”\n\n“Grandma, it’s me, Rachel. You’ve been in the retirement home for Alzheimer patients for the past two years. I know it’s difficult to remember who I am, but I love you. Please come back with me.”\n\n---\n\nNote: Sorry for any inconsistencies. You guys probably figured out what was happening mid-way, but this is my first writing prompt, so go easy on me! :) Also, I wrote this in a hurry while at work, so sorry for any grammatical errors." ]	4
	[WP] Why are you underwhelmed with the multiple briefcases full of money in your trunk? And why can't the 12 dogs in the car make it better?	[ "Wiping his sweating palms on his dirty pant leg, Frank furiously sped away in the Oldsmobile station wagon he borrowed from his friend. The barking had finally stopped, as the dogs all slept surprising calm despite the conditions they were in. Frank noticed in his rear view mirror lights approaching, and attempts to speed up. \n\nCloser.\n\nCloser.\n\nThere was no escaping, the Olds might as well have been in reverse compared to the yellow Lambo that was on his tail. Swerving up beside him and man in the passenger seat leans out the window.\n\n\"Mother fucker!\" Brandishing a bat, attempting to swat at the car. \"Pull the fuck over.\" Frank panics, and jerks the wheel swerving away from the car as his tires skid into the grass kicking up dust in its wake as Frank corrects back onto the road.\n\nThe Lambo swerves closer. Within reaching distance. The man reaches into the wagon and grabs Franks shirt as the two cars continue to speed through the darkness.\n\n\"I said pull over asshole!\"\n\nThe man continues to pull on his collar, screaming, and Frank is paralyzed with fear. A stirring is heard from the back seat, as a dog bites the mans arm from the back seat. The man attempts to shake it loose, but the dogs jaws are just too strong.\n\n\"Good boy!\" Frank yells. As the dog releases its grip. The man retreats back into the car, yelling at the driver. \"Fuck it man stop!\" As the lambo begins screeching to a halt.\n\nFrank drives off into the night, a dog resting its head in his lap, and Frank has a surprising smile on his face. \"Last time I pick you for my Fantasy Football team. Fucker.\"", "\"What have I gotten myself into?\" thought Horace as he walked out to his minivan. Horace was in his mid-30s with a weathered face that made him appear well beyond his years. His eyes were caved in, surrounded by wrinkles, as they reeked of desperation and and were in need of a long rest. \n\nHe hopped into his minivan to a chorus of barking. A dozen dogs, all of the Chinook breed, were scattered in his old Ford Windstar. Horace did not know much about dogs, but he was certain the Chinook breed was rare. After all, it took him 6 months of intense searching to find the dogs across the vast Alaskan landscape. Yes, he had stolen some from families and small villages -- but he found solace in knowing he had saved a few from animal shelters.\n\nAlong with the dogs, there were three briefcases in his Windstar's trunk that were packed full of American money. This was only half of the money his employer had promised him, and Horace was told the other half would be waiting for him when he delivered the dogs.\n\nHorace approached the drop site slowly, as it was a poorly marked road with no sign of civilization in the area. As he inched closer, he began to see a fenced-in area where a crowd of people were huddled around. Cars and trucks were parked well beyond the fence, and no one seemed to notice Horace pulling up slowly.\n\nFinally, Horace could see what was happening inside the fence. Two dogs sat across from each other, both being restrained by chain leashes. The dogs were snarling and barking at each other, itching to begin the fight. Horace finally understood why he was paid money to bring the dogs here, and it began to make him sick.\n\nHe thought about turning the Windstar around and releasing all of the dogs into the wild. \"I can't send these dogs to fight...\" he thought silently. Horace sat there for a brief moment, contemplating what his next step would be.\n\nHe picked up his glass pipe and spark, lit the bottom, and took a long drag of meth. As Horace exhaled, a new thought occurred: \"I really need the money.\"", "Jeff slammed the door on his Ford Vista shut, put his head back on the headrest and sighed. \n\nHe thought back to the day of the bet. Sitting in the pub with Dave and Browning, he'd gotten progressively more drunk and insistent that he could do it. After all, he was Jeff Ashbeck, and Jeff Ashbeck could sell the fucking moon to the martians!!\n\n\nThree weeks he'd been at this game. Three long, tedious, weeks. Every person he spoke to either laughed or slammed the door right in his face.\nAnd he still had 12 briefcases of money in the boot, 12 dogs, 12 cars, 12 hats and 24 dice in his back seat.\n\n\nTurns out no-one wants to buy Monopoly door to door." ]	3
	[WP] There is a wall, and on that wall every 24 hours it will state 3 words that will happen to one of the many who visit it that day.	[ "It's amazing how that graffiti artist got up so high on that wall. I'm surprised nobody pained over it yet, I guess they're all to scared to go up there and do it. It's become sort of a phenomena. Everyone looks up now to the top of the bank building to see the words \"You Will Die.\" As he predicted, one of them always does.", "23:59:05\n\nThe crowd was thick, just like they told us it would be. John played football in high school, so I had some prime real estate on his shoulders to better see the screen. It was blank now, just a slate black image but the on-screen clock let us all know it would be changed soon.\n\n23:59:17\n\nI took a deep breath and surveyed the crowd. All around us were the young, old, fit, lame, so many people waiting to get just a tiny bit of insight into the next chapter of their lives. I bent down to kiss John's head. \"This is so exciting,\" I whispered to him. \"I love you so much.\"\n\nHe turned his head up and squinted at me, the floodlights collecting themselves in his amber eyes. \"You know I'd do anything for you, Jess.\"\n\n23:59:51\n\nStrangely, as the crowd began to count down I crossed my fingers. I had a little silent prayer for myself. All I want is a great job, a bigger apartment, and a safer car. My life has been wonderful so far and I've been so blessed.\n\n\"FIVE.\"\n\nThe cheering around me grew louder.\n\n\"FOUR.\"\n\n\"THREE.\"\n\nI squeezed John's hair.\n\n\"TWO!\"\n\nI crossed both fingers.\n\n\"ONE!\"\n\n24:00:12\n\nThe crowd was silent. I stared at the words on the screen, a blazing white against the black rock. Thousands of eyes watched me as I threw my veil into the mud.\n\n*FUCK\n\nMARRY\n\nKILL", "A great deal of people visit the Wall every day. Some out of curiosity, some out of reverence, others come only to silently judge those who would think that this low stone wall has any power except that which it was given by an exaggerated urban legend. As it stands, the Wall is said to always be right. No matter what three words are carved in one of the numerous stones, which pave this long wall. Perhaps it cannot be even called a wall, less then a meter in height, it can be scaled with no effort, but walking along its length would take no less then half-day. Standing in the middle one can almost swear it goes on forever in the verdant Ireland hills.\n\nBut it is not its length or its height that attracts so many people every year. That made the tiny village closest to the wall into a booming tourist spot. It is the Words. Every day, new words appear, and the old words from the day before disappear. No one knows who or what makes and erases the words, neither does anyone have a clue as to how they are erased from carved stone, like they were never even written. Several theories were established, the work of gods, an extremely elaborate prank, there was also mention of a very old man carrying a hammer and nail that has been seen around the Wall, but over time it has been decided that he is just a very old man, and no one tries to solve its mysteries any longer. You would think that people would be afraid to know their own future, or that further research would be done on an object capable of correctly predicting the future 100% of the time, most of the time however, it would only showcase generalities that would happen to anyone eventually. Words such as \"YOU WILL DIE\" or \"YOU WILL LOVE\" or even \"YOU WILL POOP\" appeared on the wall every day. It seemed the Wall was no more then a cheap parlor trick with a sense of humor, the same kind of entertainment one would expect out of a carnival fortune teller for 1$, except it was free. Oh, there were always those would argue, but it seemed the Wall was nothing short of an elaborate tourist trap. \n\nOne day however, three new words that haven't been seen before appeared on the Wall. Three words that passed again unnoticed, and dismissed as a generality. Three words which would bestow their prophecy upon one of those who would gaze on them. In a single day, hundreds of people looked upon the words, laughed it off, took a picture, and continued on their way through the countryside. The next day, even the chosen one did not take notice of the effect the words had on him. A young 19 year old who did not seem like anything special. He did not notice going back to his country. He did not notice when he fell in love and got married. He did not notice when he had children or when he survived cancer, or when he took up drinking. He was oblivious to the fact that the power of the Words had already worked their magic on him. As his wife left him, he was plunged into despair and sorrow over the loss of the ones he loved. His drinking perhaps. In a corner of the room he stood with arms over his legs, a bottle at his side, and a gun in his hands. It took him a great deal of time to finally understand what the Words had done to him. Now, 25 years later, in what he believed to be the final moments of his life, he finally understood. He finally understood the terrible curse that the words had put on him. Something so general, yet so insidiously cruel. Shocked with his discovery, the 34 year old went back to that place. Catching the first plane to Ireland, he packed nothing but a single photograph of the Words he saw that day. He made his way to the little village and directly to the Wall. That wretched wall. That wall which will be the source of all his misery. It was already late now, the light of dusk already shining its final rays. He gazed on the wall and...Nothing. What had he expected to accomplish by coming here. The Wall was just a wall. He could not ask it anything, nor reason with it, nor could it feel anything. In the end, was he doomed? With his back literally against the wall, he screamed, tearing off the bandages covering his head. He damned the world and his life, and most of all, the Wall. As he sat there he noticed the old man. He looked at him with eyes that seemed to contain all the wisdom in the universe, and he knew, this old man could hear his silent plea. He pulled the single photograph and showed it to the expressionless old man, and there was understanding. And for a moment there was hope. \"This old man knows.” he thought. But the old man remained expressionless. He waited past midnight and still the old man did not move. Angry now, the man stood up, and started pacing towards him. He stopped as the old man pointed at him, or rather behind him, at the Wall, where three words were carved in the stone, as if they were always there. Three words that made the man fall to his knees. The old man started to approach the wall and pulled out the stone containing the words! He then turned around so that the words faced the bottom and carved new words into the stone. The fallen man understood what this meant, no one but him saw those words today. As he stood up he thanked the old man and walked out in the darkness. \n\nThe next day a body was found in the vicinity of the small village. The man had nothing on him but the clothes on his back, a wallet, a passport and a single photograph. But his belongings were not what baffled authorities. At first, the man was believed to have died by gunshot wound to the head, but the autopsy revealed that a very advanced form of liver cancer had already ravaged his body. The autopsy report showed that the man has been dead for several months now. Furthermore, the gunshot wound was at least several days old, but witnesses claimed they saw the man walking around just the day before. An investigation was opened, but remained inconclusive. The detective in charge of the case seemed obsessed with the photograph the man carried on him. The photograph of the Words. He was even honorably discharged on account of his obsession. Even if he was right. Even if the three words on the photograph did answer some questions, it raised new ones, and no one believed it anyway. \nThree words. \nThree words that seemed so innocuous and general. \nSomething anyone and everyone experiences. \nThe greatest generality any living thing will experience.\n\nYOU WILL LIVE.\n\nEdit: Grammar. This is my first post, sorry if its too long. :(", "For years the wall has been more of a source of entertainment than a massanger of prophecies. The predoctionws were never specific and could mean anything. Inly sometimes you'd get something like \"meet the one\" or \"win the loterry\"\n\nBut this morning when the guard visited the wall before he opened the gate it said \"all will die\" \nJust three words. As usual. And yet they are so much more than any prophecy before. \n\nThe guard stood in terror, it was so obvious what it COULD mean and if it does it would be their blood on his hands. But then again, if it means something else he wiuld make lots of noise about nothing.\n\nHe called up his supervisor who told him to open zhe gates. But tell people before hand what the wall sais so they can decide ehether they want to go in.\n\nAnd so the guard sits all day at the front gate. Telling tourists that the wall predicts death to all who enter. He gives his last day so others may live.\n\nNot one petson enters. All turn away. Some apologize, some offer kind words, others are just concernd about here to go instead\n\nAs night draws near the watchman closes the gates and one last time past the wall. When he looks up at the big black letters he sees something that never happened before. Under the three words is one more word. Smaller and rather a dirty white than grey. \nAll it sais is \"someday\"\n\n\nWrote this on my phone. Ignore typos", "It just happened*. Giant words in Hebrew just appeared on the Western Wall in Jerusalem. A custodian tried to scrub it off, but it was almost as if the stone itself had changed colors. All it said was \"Come, my children.\" Of course, when the news got out, Jews swarmed towards the Holy Land, believing it to finally herald the coming of the long-awaited Messiah. Plane tickets to Israel were sold out for almost an entire month, with impromptu pilgrimages suddenly being thrown together. As millions of the sons of Abraham streamed into Jerusalem, they packed the city the likes of which were probably not seen since before the Babylonian Exile. \n\nAbout a week after the words appeared, there were about 2.4 million Jews of assorted races, nationalities, and sects in Jerusalem and the surrounding area - over three times the city's population. It was a Saturday, so of them, especially the Hasidics, were simply sitting around, reading, admiring the view, or praying in a horribly overcrowded synagogue. A little Jewish boy, trying to hold on his yarmulke as he ran, sprinted through the streets, yelling that the writing on the wall had changed. Suddenly, men were streaming out of hotels, tents, temples, scurrying in a frenzy towards the holy site. When they all arrived, the words were there, clear as day. They read, \"Elias Isaac Goldberg.\" Fortunately, there was only one man in the crowd with that name. He was a 45 year old rather overweight stockbroker from Toronto, the wiry blond hair on his head beginning to thin. A pair of glasses (or spectacles, as he preferred to say) were perched on the brim of his nose, and he had on a white business shirt with rather noticeable stains from the 90 degree heat. Most of the time, people remarked that he looked like a combination of Rob Ford and Phillip Seymour Hoffman. The crowd parted for him like the Red Sea, and he nervously walked forward to the wall. Elias put his hand on the block in front of him, as the writing above him disappeared. It reemerged in very small print at his eye level. He leaned closer to take a look at the writing, which simply said \"Heaven awaits you.\" Now, why would it say that? As Elias pondered, he failed to notice that his leaning put pressure on the (load-bearing) block, which caused a crack to radiate upwards. The wall was starting to collapse. When he noticed the startled gasps of the people behind him, Elias looked up to see a rock almost as large as himself falling straight towards him.\n\nThe second-to-last thing that went through Elias' mind was that he managed to find out what the words meant." ]	5
	[WP] A man is on a date with a woman. In the middle of their meal he finds out she is a serial killer.	[ "In the background, the TV was on, and the news announced that another body had been found. This time the body had been found on the shore of the east river.\nThe body had massive bruising around the throat and there was irritation around the wrists, ankles and the corners of the victim's mouth. Tony Hernandez had tried to put up a fight, but had lost.\n\n\nThis was the 5th body they had found in 4 weeks and had the police force baffled. Apparently, the killer had left no trace whatsoever. And the news was hyping up the murders, which had the town in a full blown panic.\nBut Mark wasn't paying attention to the television. He was paying attention to his date. An alluring lady to say the least, he had met Lindsey on Thursday at an Art gala and they had hit it off extremely well. She had been standing by a lovely abstract, made with mixed mediums, and he had approached her and discussed it with her. During the conversation he realized that she was the artist of the painting. He bought it on the spot and then asked if he could see her again. She agreed, and he had tried to give her his number, but she declined the number and wrote down an address that she gave to him instead.\n\nShe wanted him to come over for dinner, 8:30pm 174 Sycamore Avenue, on Saturday.\nAnd there he was. It was Saturday.\n\n\n The dinner so far had been amazing. She continued to surprise him, because Mark was part of a chauvinist minority who still equated looks and intelligence. To him it was was rare to find both in one person.\n\n\"How was the steak? Too bloody?\" She asked him softly; her words seemed to trickle mellifluously from her lovely mouth.\n\n\"No Ma'am not at all, I like my meat still mooing.\" He grinned.\n\nShe twisted her scarlet lips into a smirk and brushed some of her chestnut hair out of her face.\n\"As do I.\"\nShe was wearing a tantalizing dress, which was making him ravenous despite having just eaten a meal.\n\n\"You know what would go great with this meal? A red wine.\" She announced.\n\"Yes, agreed! I am parched.\"\n\nShe quietly left the room and he watched her leave like a wolf watches its prey.\nThis would be easier than he thought. As soon as the wine started flowing, it would be simple to get her into bed.\n\nHe rubbed his tongue across his pearly white teeth that he had spent way too much money on maintaining.\n\nShe came back in the room, her black dress swishing somewhere above her knees.\n\"Here you go good sir.\" and she passed him a glass that was more than halfway full.\nHe smiled.\n\n\"Well thank you lady.\"\n\nAnd he was going to ask her what they should cheers to, but she had already tipped her cup back, staring at him while she did so.\n\nSo it was like that. \n\nAnd he did the same.\n\n\"To Art.\" \n\nHe took his cup from his lips and swirled the wine around in the cup a couple of times, and watched the blood-like liquid drip down the walls, leaving a crimson residue.\n\nBut then suddenly his head began to swim.\nHe grabbed the arm of his chair and held on for dear life, while he noticed that she had stood up from her chair.\n\n\"Quit struggling. Just let go.\" she said solemnly.\n\nHe tried to make his mouth form words but all that came out was gibberish.\n\nShe shook her head. \"You are all the same.\"\nShe corked the wine bottle, raised it over head, and brought it down upon Mark's skull.", "\nShe pursed her lips for a brief moment, quickly following up with a frown. To an unaware observer, she might have even appeared to be phased, if only for an instant.\n\n\"So, does that mean you're not going to eat? It would really make me happy if you did.\"\n\nHe timidly picked his silverware back up. He had intended to stifle his outburst, but it had come far too quickly to mitigate. She seemed more or less offended. He counted his limited blessings.\n\nShe continued. \"After all, this is actual Kobe beef. Like, from Japan. I didn't mean to spend that much, but it's understandable, right? I mean, given the circumstances.\"\n\nHe nodded as he gingerly took a bite. He was surprisingly hungry - he didn't expect to have such an appetite. He realized he couldn't exactly remember the last time he ate. Was it yesterday? Maybe even the day before?\n\n\"That's more like it. This is a celebration.\"\n\n\"A Celebration. What exactly are we celebrating?\" The shaking in his voice had started to steady out, belying the butterflies fervently fluttering in his stomach.\n\n\"Oh, you know\" She giggled.\n\n\"A long and fruitful life?\" Humor often was his method of coping with difficult siituations.\n\nHis feeble guess was met with even louder giggling.\n\n\"Oh, you're so funny. That's why I like you so much. So tell me. How's work at the firm? I bet Jerry finally stopped giving you trouble?\"\n\n\nHis strength left him once again. \"Jerry? Were you behind that?\"\n\nHer face was silent and eager. As if she was still waiting for the answer to her question. As if she was genuinely interested in his response. As if she didn't know the answer.\n\n\"Did you do something to Jerry?\"\nThat same, sickening giggle returned. \"I have to protect my baby. Sometimes that means keeping him safe from the pests that plague his life.\"\n\nHe was in shock. She continued.\n\n\"You know. Jerry, Devin, Marcus.... Catherine.\" Her eager expression melted to match her deadened tone as she spat out the last name.\n\nHe just not realized the extent of the situation. Last he was aware, she had only been missing for a few hours. \"Catherine! That was... That was you? What did you do with her? Is she alive?\" He demanded, desperation flooding his veins.\n\n\"Can we not talk about this now? I don't want you to lose your appetite again. Besides, you don't have to worry about her anymore.\"\n\nHer tone actually picked up with the last statement. Did she actually expect him to be pleased with this news? He thrust out his steak knife in a feeble attempt to silence her, but the iron chain kept him from reaching his target.\n\nShe frowned again. \"If that's going to be your attitude, we're going to have to finish our date some other time.\" She picked up her plate, blew out the candles and turned away.\n\nAs she ascended the basement stairs, she turned around to issue one last statement, her tone never wavering from the same eerie politeness \"You need to learn some manners if you want this relationship to work.\"\n\nShe closed the door behind her, once again leaving him alone in the darkness.", "\"So,\" said the man. \"I'm glad we're here.\"\n\nHe pulled the chair out for his date and she sat down with a smile on her face.\n\n\"I mean, it's kind of... how we met, it's...\"\n\n\"Weird,\" she finished for him.\n\nHe laughed.\n\n\"Yeah,\" he said. \"It's weird. But I think it's worked out for the best.\"\n\nThe room was lit by candlelight and the waiters and waitresses all wore sophisticated clothes. The man had chosen an upmarket restaurant to impress his date.\n\n\"Erm, you look great by the way.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" she smiled again. \"You clean up well, yourself. You do look familiar though, you did when we bumped into each other but I couldn't think why so I didn't say anything.\"\n\n\"Oh really? That's odd,\" he replied.\n\n\"Yeah but I'm sure it'll come to me,\" she said. \"So... Piotr. That's an interesting name.\"\n\n\"Well my grandfather was Russian,\" said Piotr. \"His name was Vlad but he always told my mum that if she had been a boy he would have named her Piotr.\"\n\n\"That's sweet, I like that story.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" he said. \"I've never been keen on the name, though.\"\n\nThe woman frowned and shook her head.\n\n\"Oh don't say that,\" she said. \"It's got character, much better than 'Anna' anyway.\"\n\n\"I don't know about that. I like your name, it's as pretty as you are.\"\n\nPiotr paused and laughed at himself.\n\n\"That was really cheesy wasn't it?\" He said.\n\n\"Hmm, just a bit, but I appreciate the sentiment,\" Anna replied.\n\nCheesiness aside Anna was a beautiful woman with her dark hair and blue eyes. Piotr called over a waiter and they ordered their starters; Piotr decided on the grilled goats cheese while Anna struggled to pronounce the insalata di gamberetti.\n\n\"I don't like small talk,\" Piotr said. \"I know that's what first dates are meant for but I like you and I don't want to waste a whole date on shallow chat.\"\n\n\"That's fair enough,\" said Anna. \"You'd been crying when we met, why?\"\n\n\"What? We met at the grocers, how do you know I'd been crying?\" Piotr said.\n\n\"No need to be so suspicious!\" Anna laughed. \"Your eyes were red, it was pretty obvious.\"\n\nPiotr was about to answer when the waiter came around with their starters. He smiled and leaned back so the food could be put down. Both plates smelled delicious and Piotr started eating and took the opportunity to think over their first time meeting. He had been meandering through the grocery store for 45 minutes before he had literally bumped into Anna. Losing his best friend had hit him hard, firstly because of how sudden it had been but also because they'd been friends since they were born; born hours apart to mothers who had become friends during the antenatal classes he still had the picture of them both as one week old babies lying side by side. Andrew had been smiling and had managed a thumbs up sign before he knew how to lift his head while Piotr had just kicked his legs around as the camera flashed. The picture did a good job of representing their friendship with Andrew never quite knowing what he was doing but always managing to do the right thing and Piotr rolling along with it, looking to Andrew for guidance. Andrew's death had been a shock and Piotr had walked around the grocers trying to make sense of it but he hadn't been able finish before Anna slammed her trolley into his ankles while paying more attention to the spices than her direction.\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" said Anna after taking a bite of her meal. \"That was a personal question. Maybe we should go back to small talk for a while.\"\n\n\"No, it's ok,\" Piotr said. \"I'll just be a minute.\"\n\nPiotr went to the toilet and leaned on the sink.\n\nHe thought back to how Andrew had seemed fine at the park bench where they occasionally met for lunch during the work week. He was happy, talking about the pretty girl he had met and how she had been the only woman to make him happy after his wife passed away. He'd only been seeing her for a month or so but Piotr had seen the change and was happy that his friend had found a reason to move on. They had been eating their sandwiches and shooting the shit just like they had done for so many years when Andrew started coughing up blood. The sticky red liquid shot out of his mouth and stained the white bread before he collapsed on the floor. The details got fuzzy for Piotr after that but he knew an ambulance had been called and that the dramatic journey to the hospital was just for show; the paramedics couldn't legally declare him dead, they had to take every action to get him to a doctor to do that. Andrew died on the floor next to that park bench, the blood soaked chicken sandwich still grasped in his hand.\n\n\"Andrew, buddy, I'll never forget you but I need to focus on myself right now,\" he said to himself in the mirror.\n\nPiotr pushed the memory of his dying friend to the back of his mind, splashed his face with cold water, and left the room.\n\nBy the time he got back to his table his drink had been refilled.\n\n\"I told them another drink would be fine,\" Anna said. \"I hope that's ok. Are you ok?\"\n\n\"I'm fine, thank you,\" Piotr said. \"I'm grieving for a friend.\"\n\n\"Oh, I'm so sorry,\" Anna said. Piotr noticed a sparkle in her eyes, an eagerness. \"What happened? If you don't mind me asking.\"\n\n\"Honestly I don't know, one minute he was here and the next he was gone. The coroner couldn't verify anything.\"\n\nHe took a long slug of his wine and a mouthful of his goats cheese. It tasted slightly different but he ignored it. Anna took a small bite of her own meal and a sip of her wine.\n\n\"I lost someone recently,\" she said. \"He was my boyfriend. We'd only been together for a month or so but I knew he was important to me. He kind of represented a turning point to me, you know?\"\n\nPiotr coughed. He tried to suppress it but he couldn't so he just grabbed his wine and sipped instead. As he put the glass down he noticed a small globule of red floating in the rosé. He dabbed at his mouth with his white napkin and brought it away from his mouth speckled with more red. His throat burned and he had a copper taste in his mouth. Blood?\n\n\"I knew I recognised you,\" Anna said. \"But I only just realised why. There's a picture of you and Andrew in his place, you two looked happy together.\"\n\nShe was cold, Piotr saw that now.\n\n\"I almost regret Andrew. He really was sweet, he didn't deserve to meet me,\" she said. \"Why did he die so quickly? I admit I tried out something new, I guess I made it a bit too strong but I had no idea it was you who got to watch the light in his eyes flicker and die. I'm kind of jealous but this is a lovely coincidence.\"\n\nA waiter started walking over to clear the table and Anna smiled at him and held her index finger up while Piotr watched, transfixed. One minute.\n\nThe others died in front of me but stabbing is so messy, I figured poison would be a bit more elegant.\"\n\nPiotr felt his heart beat faster and faster and he leaned to his right until he lost his balance. He fell to the floor and lay on his back watching the ceiling fan blur.\n\n\"Oh my god! Somebody call an ambulance!\"\n\nThe voice was Anna's but it was muffled and slowed down, Piotr saw her lean over him and stare into his eyes. She whispered close to his ear never taking her gaze off them.\n\n\"Thank you, I needed to watch someone's life extinguished.\"", "\"Interests...\" he mused, gently rubbing the stubble on his chin between his thumb and index finger. \"Aha!\" Suffice it to say that I find myself to be an eccentric individual with an indelible penchant for prose, poetry, and prosody. I am partial to all things that please the palate, and as such preclude all but a proper prepared meal at home. He smiled to himself at his undue alliteration. Perchance it would pique the curiosities of an equally astute woman with whom he could share a fine fall evening.\n\nThe following week he received a message while in the middle of preparing a performance piece.\n\n\"Thomas, I would be delighted to meet with you as you seem to share a similar array of my own interests. I would, however, like to show you to my favorite Galician restaurant close to Central Park. I can attest to the superb sabor de las sugerencias, si te apetece,\" ~María\n\nShe finished in what he could only imagine was a sultry Spanish seseo. He sent a reply immediately.\n\n\"Well, if you hold true to my similar tastes, then I must acquiesce. Send me the name and time and we shall see each other soon!\"\n\n---\n\nThomas marveled at María's beauty. Thick brown hair gently rolled down her bronze shoulders, caressing a gentle but sharp face that featured brilliant brown orbs, luscious lips, and a button nose set between the two.\n\n\"I must say, es un placer conocerte, cariño,\" he rolled in his best accent.\n\n\"Igualmente, tío,\" she cooed back at him with a noticeable monotone.\n\nThomas was a bit taken aback at this sudden and odd display of informality matched with such a sexy, suave seseo as he had hoped for, but he did not want to make a bad impression, so he controlled his reaction and proceeded on with the conversation. \n\nAs they finished their first glass of Mencía and a small portion of tapas, the atmosphere warmed. They spoke of literature: Gabriel García Marquez, Borges, Miguel de Unamuno; of cooking; of summer nights on the Galician coast. Thomas smiled and replied eagerly, feeding each other's stories and mouths with morsels of detail and meats. The Spanish cured ham was shipped directly from the country and well taken care of. It was as succulent as it was savory. He adjusted his bowtie and took a healthy swill of wine.\n\n\"Dime, mi vida, a qué te dedicas aquí?\" she asked. So, she wanted to know what he did? Thomas smiled broadly and spoke.\n\n\"I am the preeminent master linguist at CUNY. In my spare time, I advise experimental art performances at the Guggenheim, and I am studying for--\"\n\nJust then, a waiter spilled a pitcher of sangría on a nearby table, staining the decadent white dress of who was surely the most wealthy woman at the establishment this evening. María snorted obscenely and cackled loud and long enough to draw attention to her and her date - namely, Thomas. She controlled herself and returned to Thomas once more.\n\n\"I'm sorry, my dear, please continue.\" she urged, still a noticeable monotone parting her lips. She sat supremely rigid, smiling and stroking the handle of her knife as she listened, her eyes darting back to take in the scene at the far table every few moments.\n\n\"I...ahem,\" Thomas coughed and took another drink of wine. His face began to flush as the telltale buzz of alcohol set in. But he had only finished a single glass; to be tipsy now was rather out of character. \"Pardon me. I am studying psychology. I am currently a Ph.D student where I also work. It's fascinating, really; I--\"\n\nThe couple's waiter brought out the food. For Thomas, a plate of Galician-style cod served on a bed of steamed potatoes and topped with red pepper and pimenton dulce. For María, a startlingly well-crusted steak with a special Galician queixo cheese sauce. She quickly cut into the center of the meat to discern its temperature. Her full smile inverted in the blink of an eye, of which hers became dark, as she grabbed the waiter's sleeve. She pointed to the meat. \"This is not medium rare! Are you trying to kill me?\"\n\n\"Disculpe, señora, I will fix it right away.\" He hurried off to the kitchen with the unapproved plate. María leaned back in her chair, took up her glass of wine in her right hand and set it gently to her lips, presenting a side profile to Thomas while stroking the knife again with her left.\n\n\"I...\"Thomas drew out in the ensuing awkwardness. \"...I am studying psychopathy.\" Thomas brought his fist to his mouth and cleared his throat uncomfortably, but still held her gaze. His head began to feel heavy with drink as his temples beat rhythmically with his heart.\n\n---\n\nMaría leaned forward and set her wine on the table. She hadn't been especially careful in controlling herself tonight. In truth, she often enjoyed letting down a portion of the veil she normally wore around people. It excited her to watch them squirm with discomfort at the quirks she would feign. But tonight she may have made an error with Thomas. He was socially awkward and a nerd to the T - indeed, as eccentric as they come - but what were the odds he might tie the loose ends together? \n\nShe watched him without blinking, then bid him continue with more eagerness and inflection than she had employed the entire night. \n\n---\n\nThomas sipped at his wine. He couldn't help but think to himself that this woman was stranger than he was comfortable with. All the signs were there. It gave him pause and the puppy-like eagerness with which he had conducted himself all evening quickly faded into reflective concern. It's almost like she's a serial killer, he thought. So immersed in his thought, he took an uncivil bite enormous in size. And with that, he accidentally respired a large sip of wine, coughed red across the white linen cloth of the table, and looked down ashamedly. \"My god, please forgive me, María,\" he cried. \n\nThe attention was on them again, his face flush with embarrassment. María offered a way out by suggesting they leave. In his shame, he agreed and they quickly moved for the front desk. He faltered and threw out a hand to brace himself. \"Well, this isn't very good,\" he muttered.\n\nMaría cooed at him and offered a ride home. He tried to shake his head and call for a taxi, but his vision failed him as he faded to black.", "Well, I'd had worse dates. The woman wasn't bad-looking. Mousy brown hair and glasses - probably one of those timid, bookish girls. You know the cliché. The ones who get the makeovers in those chick flicks. I thought about what she'd look like after a makeover. She was slender. Not a bad body; I could see that even though she was wearing a baggy sort of dress. Probably not too heavy. Probably around a hundred and thirty pounds. Probably very easy to restrain.\n\n\"Sir?\" said the waiter.\n\n\"Oh - um, yeah, sorry,\" I said. \"Just daydreaming, you know.\" I laughed. \"I'll get...eh, number nine, the spaghetti.\" \n\nThe girl was watching me - glancing up at me when she thought I wasn't looking at her, but when I did turn towards her, she looked at her lap again. I supposed she was trying to be discreet. Well, she'd get an eyeful in a few hours. \n\n\"And you?\" the waitress said to her.\n\n\"The Greek salad,\" she said. Her voice was soft and thin - and trembling a bit.\n\n\"And drinks?\" said the waiter.\n\n\"Why not a bottle of red wine?\" I said.\n\n\"Oh, no - \" the girl began.\n\n\"Don't worry,\" I said. \"It's all on me.\"\n\nThe waiter nodded, wrote that down, and walked away. I grinned at the girl. She was blushing now. \"That's probably too much for a first date,\" she said. \"This restaurant is expensive to begin with...\"\n\n\"I don't know. I think it's worth it,\" I said.\n\nShe blushed more furiously and stared at her lap. Yes, I was quite the ladykiller. I excused myself. \"I'd better go to the bathroom now,\" I said, \"so I don't have to interrupt dinner.\"\n\nShe laughed.\n\nI went towards the bathroom, but when I was certain she was not looking, I left through the back door and walked into the parking lot to my car. The pills were in the glove compartment. I palmed them and returned to the restaurant.\n\nThe food had arrived, spaghetti on my side of the table, but the wine wasn't here yet. All the better - if it had arrived the waiter might have poured it before I'd asked to do the honors. The girl hadn't started eating yet. \"I thought it would be polite to wait for you,\" she said.\n\n\"Thanks,\" I said.\n\nThe food was terrible, of course, but these were the little trials of daily life. I'd gotten a few bites when the waiter came with the bottle of wine, and I convinced him to let me pour it. She wasn't even watching. Too busy staring at her feta cheese.\n\nThe waiter went away and now it was quiet. It was time to start a conversation and meanwhile take sips of wine in between, prompting her to do the same.\n\n\"So,\" I said, after a moment's silence. \"I figure we should get to know each other.\"\n\nShe put down her fork and nodded. \"Sure.\"\n\n\"So,\" I said again. Suddenly my mind was blank. \"Well...what do you do for a living?\"\n\n\"Are you feeling okay?\" she said. \n\n\"Oh, yeah, I'm fine,\" I said, sipping the wine to prove it. \"So what do you do?\"\n\n\"Maybe we should go outside for a breath of air? You don't look well.\"\n\n\"No, I'm...\"\n\n\"We'll come back later,\" she said. Then she sipped her wine - yes. One sip wouldn't knock her out, but maybe it'd make her dizzy enough to...while we were outside...yes. Especially a girl of her weight...drugs worked faster on lighter people...yes. Easy to restrain... \"I'd hate to have you vomit in the middle of our meal. Come on, just a walk?\" she said.\n\nWe went outside. The night air was cool against my skin. Good. My feet dragged as I walked. But that was alright. Didn't need to be graceful. Just needed to be on top. Pinning down. Such a light girl. Easy to restrain. We were in the dark part of the parking lot now.\n\n\"Sorry,\" I said. \"Don't know...what's wrong.\"\n\nShe laughed. \"It's alright. Let's just walk until you'll feel better. Why don't we finish that conversation you started?\" she said. \"What do _you_ do for a living?\"\n\nI struggled to think. \"Barista,\" I managed to say. Wasn't that what these girls liked? Mousy brown bookish timid. \"Starbucks,\" I said.\n\n\"And in your free time you're a serial rapist.\"\n\n\"What?\"\n\nHer voice was steely. \"Ask me what _I_ do for a living, now.\"\n\n\"Wha...what?\"\n\n\"I'm a serial killer. You're a rapist, and I'm a killer, and we're both serial. So I think we'll get along for the rest of your life.\"\n\nI stood there, staring at her, drugged and stupid. She had a knife now. Somehow. Had it been strapped to her leg? Under that dress...\n\n\"Try not to breathe,\" she said.", "Her expression resembled one of those queerly beautiful days in which I could let existence pour over me. \nThe kind in which a wash of rain cleanses the World, falling from the underbelly of a comforting grey sky. \nShe seemed to possess a kind of character that I had not encountered in many years.\n \nThe waiter asked us what we would like to eat, in words which were heavily drenched in a fine French accent. \nThe wine was top notch, its flavour arousing every single little taste bud in my mouth. \nOur conversation flowed, not restricted by the framed essence of reality, laughter, smiles and shocks beating at the very glass structure of time's frames. \nI looked at my watch, it signalled 9:30, the realisation that a greater power was restricting our entanglement soaked into me slowly.\nMy mind frowned.\n\nMy date was the great Catherine Sylo, like me, she too was a top-notch New Yorker, job-less but so full of wealth that you could see money in the reflection of her eyes. \nShe was telling me about her Friday night at the pictures with another New Yorker we both very well knew, Allan Door. \nAllan had recently met faith in a most gruesome and un-common way for such a high-ranking member of society.\nMurder. \n\nThis word has hung in the mind of all New York's upper-class for months now. \nSomeone was taking hatchet to us slaves of the dollar bill.\nI, at least in my perception, am not a slave of the American dollar, philosophy and literature peek my interests, making some difference and finding at least a hint of meaning in this ambiguous life are top priorities.\nYet, I came to the conclusion very early on that this would not deter the murderer from killing me, for how could they know my thought processes.\nThey would have no chance of coming to know of my personal goals and interests, for I highly doubt that we would nicely converse before they removed me from my present existence. \n\nI just finished telling Catherine about my plans to initiate a charity, not failing to mention that I would donate to already existing ones but that I don't trust them.\nI really don't.\nHonest.\n I imagine it's not generosity that fills the filthy asses and bellies of the managers.\nIf I slashed through that fat with a machete I believe that only green printed paper would come out.\n Catherine loved my machete metaphor. \n\nHer mind was dipped with a lustrous love of darkness, it shun in the way expensive jewellery did, teasing you by saying that you could only truly feel its beauty when it was placed on the tip of your finger but not the thick gel of your eye.\n At that point I mentioned Catherine's earlier offer of going back to either one of our apartments after dinner for some more wine.\nShe had made that offer with much keenness and determination, in fact she was so keen that she made me rather hopeful, something which has been hard to do of late.\nI told her she could come to mine and that we could listen to my record player and I could even show her the plans for my new charity.\nTo be frank I was excited, no other person had excited me so much in a long while.\n\nShe was so real, not afraid of her own darkness, because she knew that darkest shadows were cast by the brightest lights. \nAt that point she got up, thanked me for dinner, and told me that I was richer in heart than in wealth and that such a thing was all but impossible for someone who owned an entire island.\nThen she left.\n\nI felt nothing but pure confusion. She was so keen in the continuation of our date.\n Her keenness had seemed so genuine. \nI would never see Catherine again.\n\nAs the blood of the steak slithered through my teeth the shadow of my mind illuminated. \nThe murder of New York's impious aristocracy was not executed by a lunatic who wanted to see blood spray over Persian carpets for the thrill of it.\n The murders were acts of social justice, a murderer who believed in a more equal World. \n\nCatherine had many connections in the World of the rich and famous, this meant the she had many excuses for inviting similarly aged aristocratic men to fine dinners. \nMy initial assumption was wrong, the murderer did in fact have a fine opportunity to view my mind.\nThe murderer was one of us.\nMoney burning money in the name of justice.\n\nI signed the cheque and left.\nTwo nights later Bill Warren died, he was the wealthiest man in New York.\nA night before that, he had had dinner with Catherine Sylo.\nThe police never gave Catherine as much as a questioning eye.\nShe was wealthy and well-educated after all.\nNothing more than a victim. \n", "The man blinked hard as he set his glass back on the table, smacking his lips together as the slightly bitter Merlot slid its way down his throat.\n\n\"Whew,\" he said, smirking, playing it cool. His sense of ego forced him to tone down his feelings. \"That's a strong drink.\"\n\nThe woman across from him just smiled, her attention focused on their coupled hands, which were resting on the table between them. Her finger idly rubbed the back of his hand, her fiery red nails contrasting sharply with her pale skin.\n\nHe could have sworn a small moan escaped her lips. \"I do like them strong,\" she said, before meeting his eyes and grinning back at him.\n\nHe did everything he could to quell the blush threatening to turn him the color of his drink, and cursed himself silently when he felt the heat rise on his cheeks anyway. There was something almost...predatory...about the way she looked at him. It made him feel wanted in a way he hadn't felt in a long time.\n\n\"Thank you,\" he said, after awhile. \"Thank you for inviting me over. I have to admit, I don't usually go on first dates like this. Usually it's dinner and a movie, you know?\" He chuckled nervously. Internet dating rule number on was always meet in a public place. But she had been so insistent about cooking a meal for him herself. He couldn't say no to such a beautiful woman.\n\nShe smiled wider, her eyes glinting with amusement as she rose out of her chair, her hand never leaving his, and circled the table, gently placing herself down on his lap.\n\n\"You mean to tell me a big, strong man like yourself is nervous about meeting someone in such a private place?\" \n\n\"Well,\" he stuttered, not wanting to insult. \"I mean, it's just not the social convention.\"\n\nHer eyebrows rose, her big, baby-blues staring back at him, wide and questioning. He thought he caught a slight look of hurt. \"Would you like to leave and go somewhere else?\" She shifted on his lap.\n\n\"No, no!\" he said, much faster than he would have liked. Why couldn't he just be cool? \"This is wonderful. Thank you again.\" He slowly picked up his glass, willing himself to steady his hand, and took another big gulp. Her eyes followed the glass to his lips, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards as her smile grew.\n\n\"I see you like it strong, too,\" she said, the husky quality of her voice...soothing?...him. He nodded, finding it difficult to talk. He was suddenly exhausted. No, no! His mind raced. He couldn't be getting tired. Not here, not now! He blinked to clear his eyes and forced his head, now very heavy atop his neck, to stay still.\n\nShe leaned in, pressing further into him, until her lips were only inches from his ear. \"I have a confession to make.\" Her breath on his ear sent chills down his spine. \"I am a very naughty girl.\"\n\nHe was sure his heart would have skipped a beat if it could, but it was beating much too calmly, he was much too calm. His mind began to race, even as his body relaxed more and more. What was happening to him?\n\nHe felt her breath on his ear again as she spoke. \"You know what I like to do with big, strong men like you?\" Her finger continued to caress the back of his hand, her nail scrapping gently across his skin. He couldn't answer, could barely keep his eyes open. The drowsiness was overwhelming. \n\nHer lips curled into a cruel smile, her voice dropping to barely a whisper. It was time for her favorite part. \"I like to kill them.\"\n\nHis brain erupted in alarm, but his body would not respond. He screamed inside his head, but no matter how he tried, his arms would not move, his legs would not go. The hazy darkness that had begun at the edge of his vision would soon swallow him completely.\n\n\"Don't worry, darling,\" she said, removing herself from his lap. She walked over to the buffet sitting against he wall and pulled a large roll of duct tape from one of the drawers. \"This isn't the end.\" \n\nShe pulled off a long piece, produced a knife, and used it to cut the tape from the roll. She made her way back to him and straddled him, replacing herself on his lap. She pressed the tape against his lips, sealing them. Her eyes gleamed with excitement as she stared back into his. \"I still have to have my fun.\"\n\nHe thought she moaned, but his brain was too far gone to process the thoughts. He could barely stay coherent enough to remind himself to keep breathing...\n\n\"Nighty night.\"", "\"I could have sworn that I seen you somewhere before.\" The man said, a pondering look on his face as he wondered why this beautiful woman in front of him made him so uneasy. \nHe contributed it to the fact that he was simply nervous, still not clear on why a woman this beautiful, educated and sexy would ever give him the time of day. \nHe was not rich, he did not have many friends. The only exciting thing about him was that he had traveled to Paris on a whim. Not telling anybody where he had went. \nThis had caught the woman's attention in the bar. He figured she thought him exciting for his bravery. \nIf he only knew. \nShe poured him some more wine and went out to the kitchen for the main course. \n\"This was delicious. Rabbit was it?\" the man called out the kitchen. The woman returned with a big tray, on it a piece of what looked like pork. \n\"Looks great.\" he said. \nThe women smiled at him and started carving the meat with what seemed like surgical precision and skill. She had mentioned that her father used to be a surgon. \nIf he only knew. \n\"You must have a lot of men asking you out\" the man said, trying to deliver a hidden compliment. \n\"A few\" the woman replied \"most of them for dinner.\" She smiled at him as she put a piece of meat on his plate. \nAfter a few silent minutes the man looked up, a question in his mind. \n\"You know,\" he said \"I never did get your last name.\" \nThe woman looked at him, smile gone, she knew what was about to come. \nShe raised her head slowly as she wrapped her hand on the handle of the knife. \nThe mans face turned pale as she opened her mouth and spoke the words. He knew now. \n\"Lecter.\" " ]	8
	[WP] In a perfect world, men like me would not exist. But this is not a perfect world.	[ "This is a world of thieves and liars, killers and degenerates.\n\n\nI exist because evil exists, I do the work that a “civilized” society thinks they are above. I embody the harsh truth and the brutal reality that this imperfect world calls for and in doing so I ensure that innocent and naive are allowed to maintain their illusion of a livable world.\n\n\nI have blood on my hands, scars on my soul, and will more likely than not be seeing the fires of hell sooner rather than later. But if I have to see hell, I’m making damn sure it’s full when I get there.\n", "-cuts throat-\n\nYou see, the world we live in is full of murderers, robbers, and .. Human trafficking. I'm the guy that everyone just wants to point the finger at and say \"He's the bad guy!\" And to be honest I am that guy.\n\nTo break it down for yah', I'm the guy the cartels go to if they're ever in need of some men for grunt labor, or women for their.. desires.\n\nThe first thing I do is, I walk up to your house and knock on the door. You open it and as you do, you see a nine-iron coming to your temple. Next thing you know, you wake up all tied up and naked. Because, if the cartels say they have no use for you, then at least I made money on your belongings right! \n\nThe person sitting here in front of me today is Jack Johnson strait out of the suburbs of California. He isn't the greatest built fellow, but I thought he would get the job done for whatever the cartels needed.\n\n-\"Right Jack!?\"\n\n -\"Ri..Right..\"\n\n\nWe'll, the cartel didn't think so, so it's time for you to go Jack, thanks for that diamond ring though!\n\n-\"Wait.. WAIT\"\n\n-cuts throat-\n\n-\"Who's next in line you panzy's?!\"\n\n-moans of hundreds go throughout the warehouse-", "\n\nThe Bastard is saying something to The Boss in a hushed, unhurried tone. The movements of his lips are precise. He’s known what he was going to say for a long time. The Boss opens his mouth to respond, eyes wide. He rips the serrated edge of the blade across The Boss's throat. The Bastard, he doesn't even hold his eyes there a moment longer. Convulsing, bound to the chair with what looks to be the entire roll of duct tape, The Boss would bleed out even if he wasn't already choking on his own blood.\n\nThe eyes transfix me, noting my stare with the same clinical calm as a surgeon would a broken blood vessel. He's lean, The Bastard is. He’s something lupine, loping rather than walking, springing rather than sprinting. The dagger is held between his forefinger and thumb, swaying gingerly back and forth. \"Bastard,\" I spit through the bloodied sockets where he knocked out my teeth.\n\nThe Bastard laughs without any mirth. \"In a perfect world,\" He begins quietly, \"Men like me would not need to exist.\" He gestures to The Boss, the last feeble twitches of life being kicked out of him by a misfiring nervous system. Those eyes are level with my own now. \"But this is not a perfect world.\" He straightens up, turning to survey the room. \n\nTen of us, all that was left after the massacre at The Place, retreated here to safeguard The Boss. I am the youngest by a wide margin. I will be sixteen years old if I live through this pitiless winter. I am the only one still living. The knife accounted for three of us, dead before we even knew The Bastard was inside.\n\nThe pistol, jammed and discarded, took another six in The Bastard's hands. The Boss he'd throttled into submission with his bare hands. I'd always thought The Boss was invincible. He never backed down when the moment came, but the second we heard that first shout I saw the fear in him. For ten dead men, all The Bastard has to show for it is a frayed hole in his overcoat. A steadied finger points at The Boss.\n\n\"Men like him, Kid. They don't belong in the ordered nature of things. Justice doesn't come from the structure of society for them. The Law won't touch him. Justice is afraid of his sort.\" His arms falls, and he stoops to retrieve his pistol. \"The implacable law is ‘For every action, an equal and opposite reaction.’ Your boss knew I was his the second he actually saw me. The Bastard stares one last time at The Boss’s corpse. “I’m his long overdue reckoning,” he spits.\n\nI know next to nothing about guns. The Bastard tugs a piece here or there, and something brass springs from the pistol. He clicks another piece or two and seems satisfied, tucking the weapon away. \"Men like your boss reap an awful tally, kid. They don't ever rot in court, though. They rot in the ground.\" He's looming over me now, and the dagger in his fist has my death etched in every imperfection of the metal.\n\n\"Remember what I've told you,\" He says to me, as I realize I am not going to die. \"This is not a perfect world. Men like your boss, they give rise to men like me. It's a cycle of bloodshed that has been, and likely always will be. The only difference between you and other men is that you know where you sit in the scheme of things now. You got to learn this lesson without earning a bullet for your trouble.\"\n\nThe Bastard turns and begins to walk away. Already my mind is on escape, how to wriggle out of the duct tape laced securely around my wrists. I can manage it, with time and effort. I still instinctively when I feel his stare pulsing against the top of my skull. He's paused at the doorway, staring with eyes he wasn't born with. These are the eyes of the apex predator, death that has no need to revel in how mighty it is. It knows, and knowing is enough.\n\n\"Men like me do exist,\" He growls quietly from the threshold. \"Hold on tight to that fear pumping in your blood, Kid. The day, hell - the moment that you forget it, I'll come back. What's one more?\" It sounds like a question, but I know with cold certainty that it is a statement of intent. It takes me a long time to realize his footsteps have faded, and the distant rumble of an engine has vanished.\n", "\"So, what do you do for a living?\"\n\n\"Do you really want to know?\"\n\nI smirk.\n\nOf course she'll say yes, but if I were to tell her the truth she would definitely regret it.\n\nShe's expecting 'insurance salesman', 'store clerk', whatever. Hell, even a circus performer would fit in. But no, that's not me.\n\nI'm the bad guy.\n\n\"Why, would you have to kill me if you told me?\"\n\nShe laughs. It's funny, it really is.\n\nShe takes a sip from her glass.\n\n\"Something like that. Well, to tell the truth, I'm an independent contractor.\"\n\nThis piques her interest. A jack of all trades.\n\n\"In any particular field, or...?\"\n\n\"Well, yes. A very particular field, indeed.\"\n\nShe would get uncomfortable by now, usually, but my smile reassures her, I'm just joking. She takes another sip from her glass.\n\n\"So, Mr. Secretive, what is it you actually work with?\"\n\nI take my glass to my mouth and pour the contents. She looks at me with a questioning glance.\n\n\"Oh, nothing fancy. You could call it 'bill collection'.\"\n\nA third sip from her glass. She's already had more than half. Her face is starting to turn a bit pale, her throat's feeling dry.\n\nShe finishes her glass.\n\n\"I'm sorry, I don't think I'm feeling too well...\"\n\n\"No, no you aren't. When you asked if I had to kill you if I told you, you were a bit off.\"\n\nHer face is white. Her throat's too dry. She can't say anything.\n\n\"You see...\"\n\nHer eyes on me. Opened far beyond what a normal human would. Already suffocating. Can't breathe.\n\n\"I'd have killed you anyway.\"\n\nI smirk.\n\nShe's already close to passing out. I leave enough for our drinks on the table and leave. Everybody's too focused on themselves to notice.\n\nHer face hits the table. A few glances. Nobody does anything yet. I leave.\n\nShe's regretting it.\n\nI'm the bad guy." ]	4
	[WP] A seed from the original forbidden fruit is regrown.	[ "“Several years ago, an enterprising American prospector set his eyes upon a questionably active volcano and said to himself, 'I want to drill a hole in that.'\n\n“That man, Aaron Pershing, is in a hospital now. I’ve been told that he is lucid enough today to be watching our broadcast, though his life had been in serious danger until just last month. For that, I congratulate him, and wish him a speedy recovery.\n\n“Everyone in attendance here—and most people who aren’t—is familiar with Pershing’s story. Hell, CNN hasn’t reported on anything else since January…perhaps with the exception of that missing airplane. Bear with me, however, because for the sake of a grandiose presentation I intend to summarize the events of and after January 12 this year.\n\n“On the twelfth of January, Pershing and nearly a dozen miners in his employ were flown to an Australian hospital from the east coast of Tanzania. All of them had gone into convulsions, experienced severe seizures after having dug hundreds of meters below Mount Kilimanjaro. They were discovered within hours by their coworkers and dragged from that ill-conceived pit, which was then supposed to be full of noxious gas. \n\n“The mine was abandoned for a week, after which researchers from the University of Queensland were hired to identify the gas that the miners had inhaled. This was because the miners, Pershing included, had not yet ceased their violent convulsions. Not once. For a week. As you might imagine, the men were put on a high-calorie diet in addition to their other treatments.\n\n“But the Queenslanders didn’t detect anything at all extraordinary in the air of the mine. On the contrary, its breathability was excellent. A few of them removed their masks as they walked deeper into the earth, perhaps hoping for a glimpse of the same veins of valuable metal that Pershing had been searching for. This was their misfortune, as when the group reached the end of the shaft it was only the maskless among them who fell to the ground, just as the miners had. The rest—at least, the ones not immediately concerned with their companions’ health, the bastards—caught sight of something on the far wall.\n\n“It was gold. Strange, though; it had taken the natural shape of a ninety-degree angle. The next day, after the students and researchers struck with seizures were shipped back to Australia, a few of those who remained went back into the mine, tools in hand, to strike it rich—or, as you’d hear them tell it, to ‘examine the area more thoroughly.’\n\n“Three days later, it was clear that Pershing and his men hadn’t just struck gold beneath Kilimanjaro. They had struck God.\n\n“The Ark of the Covenant cannot be viewed with bare eyes. The sight of it, even through a mask or lens, can induce vomiting, muscle spasms, or a nervous flight response. News organizations have been forced to treat their camera operators for PTSD, and star reporters have been ordered to remain distant due to their being soulless, unholy entities. Yet, thankfully, the Ark has not yet proved deadly.\n\n“You are already as familiar with its exterior as you are with the screen of your television: cherubim on the top, esoteric runes and hieroglyphs along the sides, all covered with immaculate gold leaf—leaf, I say, not plate. Moses apparently didn’t want to spring for it, which is proof to us all of something that we have known for millennia: Moses was a Jew.\n\n“Inside the Ark of the Covenant were five things: a stone tablet covered with indecipherable writing, a sealed parchment scroll, a mound of ash thought to have once been the rod of Aaron—the Biblical one, not the convulsive one—and two earthenware jars. It is concerning one of these jars that I have called you all here today.\n\n“Naturally and justifiably, Israel sued for the possession of the Ark and all of its contents. The Queenslanders, however, were credited with the discovery, and after a long legal and philosophical battle that I’m sure all of us will be grateful to forget, the contents were divided thusly:\n\n“To the Israelis was granted the tablet and a promise of the Ark, to be handed over by Australia after it has been thoroughly examined and the secret to curing its victims is revealed. The scroll was sent to be deciphered in England, after which it will undoubtedly make a world tour as a holy relic, owned by no one nation. The mound of ash was not removed from the Ark, as Hoovering it up is apparently too much trouble, and so it, too, is in Australia. Finally, the earthenware jars were sent to America—to Yale University, where I am a lead researcher of biological science focused on DNA mapping.\n\n“Inside one of the jars was a pale, sticky substance—likely the ‘manna’ described in the Old Testament. The examination of this did not concern me at all, and the results of that examination were revealed in July by my partner and friend, Doctor Janet Schrader. Those results do not require repeating here, not just because they have been repeated endlessly from July until now, but because I am excited to reveal the results of my own carefully-guarded research and overshadow her accomplishments completely.\n\n“The second jar—the one not mentioned in any of the ancient texts, though its age has been confirmed to be contemporary with the rest of the Ark—contained twenty-eight tiny seeds. My laboratory made headlines last year for our research on retroviruses in fruit trees, so we were the popular choice to receive it. I was tasked with identifying these seeds by their DNA, based on a certain outlandish guess. Nobody thought it possible to identify them by any other means.\n\n“But we can. We planted them, and they grew. And as it turned out, I believe that outlandish guess is correct: what we cultivated in our laboratory is none other than the Forbidden Fruit of legend, first grown in the Garden of Eden.\n\n“I have it here with me, and I will show it to you all today: the fruit that contains the knowledge of good and evil, responsible for the fall of Man from God’s grace.\n\n“But first, an anecdote. Several days after we began our research on the seeds’ DNA, the answer was already apparent. This is why we never released any images of the seeds—after we had identified them, as sometimes happens with riddles like these, the answer seemed glaringly obvious. We could have published our results just then, to the satisfaction of the world. But I decided against it.\n\n“I remembered a quote from an article written by Francis Crick of Watson and Crick, the men who exposed the helical structure of DNA: ‘A scientific discovery is more akin to a work of art than is generally admitted. Style…is as important as content.’\n\n“And so we waited for the plant to grow, and to bear fruit. We knew the risks; we might have been forced to wait years, until the news of the Ark had long died down, before the dramatic reveal. One of us might have been tricked into saying too much before too long. But, as luck would have it, neither we nor you were kept waiting very long at all. Perhaps it is God’s will, or the inherent magic of the seeds, but their growth was accelerated. We had fruit in as little as half a year.\n\n“Do not worry—none of us have eaten of it. We haven’t needed to, as you will soon find out. We are currently taking bids for the first bite of the Forbidden Fruit, and for tastes of the first crop…but to develop the most valuable taste, of which Adam and Eve partook, and for which they and their progeny were doomed, will take a little while longer.\n\n“Ladies and gentlemen of the world, behold the fruit that was and remains the source of Mankind’s folly.\n\n“It is the wine grape.”\n", "\"It's beautiful,\" I whispered, taking in the view. And what a beautiful garden it was, blossoming with color and life everywhere I looked. Flowers of every hue adorned bushes and hedges and woody tendrils surrounding a red brick path. I turned to Julia admiringly. \"This is all your work?\"\n\nShe smiled and nodded. \"I've been working on this garden for five or six years now. I thought you might like it.\"\n\n\"It's lovely.\" The cool summer breeze drifted past, rustling the leaves, gently picking up her golden brown hair. \"A wonderful garden for a wonderful girl.\"\n\n\"And for a wonderful young man, too.\" She ruffled my hair affectionately. Then, tilting her head slightly toward the path, she asked, \"Shall we walk?\"\n\nI nodded. We had all afternoon, and there was so much to see.\n\n--\n\nI had had no idea before today that there could have been so many different types of plants in the world. As Julia and I sat down on a simple wooden bench, I marveled at the sheer diversity of her choices. \"It's almost like you've been trying to collect some of everything,\" I remarked.\n\nJulia nodded. \"I try to grow whatever seems interesting.\"\n\n\"You're very good at it,\" I said, grinning.\n\n\"Thanks,\" she said. Her eyes turned toward a young fruit tree. \"It's not always easy. Plants can be finicky sometimes.\"\n\n\"Oh?\"\n\n\"Not all plants can grow in all conditions. Some are more tolerant than others. It's tricky trying to keep some of the more obstinate ones flourishing. Usually it's the bizarre exotic ones that give me all the trouble, but sometimes the ordinary-looking ones throw surprises at me too.\" She gestured to the apple tree in front of us. \"This one's given me all kinds of problems. This is the first season it's fruited.\"\n\nI raised an eyebrow. \"I never would have imagined plants would be so difficult. They're just plants, after all...\"\n\n\"Heh. I thought the same thing when I started this. It turns out even viruses are easier.\" She stood up. \"I think these are finally ready. Want to try one?\"\n\n\"Sure,\" I replied, thinking nothing of it.\n\nShe picked a bright red fruit off the tree and tossed it to me; I caught it deftly. I was never one for apples - they had always been difficult on my teeth - but I figured one or two wouldn't hurt.\n\nI studied the fruit in my hand briefly. It was a little small, I thought, but with some polishing it would have made a fine gift for my old first-grade teacher.\n\nI took a bite. It was perfect - crisp and sweet, taking me back to lazy childhood summers and the countryside farmland. \"This is really good,\" I said, slightly muffled, before swallowing.\n\n\nSuddenly the world turned blindingly black, scaldingly cold, and in that moment I knew that swallowing had been a mistake.\n\n--\n\n\"David? David!? Are you all right?\" Such a faraway voice, laced with panic, terror. Grass. Shaking. \n\n\"I...\" Was I all right? Could I be all right? \"I think so.\"\n\n\"What happened?\" Inquiry. Concern.\n\n\"I don't know.\" Sitting up slowly. \"One moment, I was eating an apple, the next... everything kind of blacked out.\"\n\nJulia kneeled down next to me, her eyes level with mine. I knew she was checking me for stroke symptoms. She was trained in first aid, after all.\n\nAnd I knew so much more, though it came in unbidden, unfiltered, unsorted. The kindness of a young woman to a suitor, the secret doubts, thoughts and lust and desires and deceit hidden away in dark recesses of mind, the horror of society at a plague of her creation, unleashed upon an unprepared world, her heart black as night, a terror upon all. Memories of a first-grade schoolteacher, the laughter, the sunshine, the shouting, the brainwashing of countless legions of little children, to serve the will of numbers and charts and quarterly profits and power-mad thugs. Glory of accomplishment, bright and promising future, a flash of sound, a burst of light, slumped in an alleyway beside empty wallets and a river of crimson. The future, my future, the world's future, always moving, always changing, without rhyme or reason or morality, yet always in the same direction, all roads leading to entropy, the death of hope, death of the universe.\n\nI closed my eyes against the rising headache. This was a mistake. The pictures burned brighter, hordes of clueless people, oblivious to the eyes that watch, the hands that sift, young men with no future, preying on the weak, the helpless, charismatic leaders with dark secrets, perverse desires, stories of monsters told to small children, and the real monsters of the world, putting the stories to shame, the evil of the universe, knowledge burning into my eyelids as the bitterness found its way into my face.\n\nI wrenched my eyes open, my eyelids leaden, gritting my teeth against the pain. A voice so far away. \"Are you sure you're okay?\"\n\nWould I ever be okay? How could I ever be okay after what I have seen? How could anyone be okay after knowing what I know?\n\nHesitation. \"What do you mean?\"\n\nHad I said that out loud? I took a deep breath. \"You've been growing a sapling of the ancient Tree of Knowledge. You know the one?\"\n\nConcern melting into horror. Disbelief. \"That's not possible.\"\n\n\"Knowledge of good and evil,\" I continued, \"and fortune and fate.\" I shook my head slowly. \"The tree must be destroyed. No one should be made to carry this...\"\n\nWave after wave of unbidden knowledge. The minds of the world's leaders, schemes and plots and secrets and bright flashes and harsh orange mushroom clouds. Crime bosses counting numbers, kills made, money earned, pinning photographs of dead men on boards for all to see. World consumed in chaos, world locked in rigid order. The end of time, the last judgment. Judgment, the balance of law, caught between the darkness and the fading light, tipping, slowly but surely, toward the jaws of eternal oblivion.\n\nI rubbed my forehead slowly, the pain receding slightly beneath my fingertips, discovering the wrinkles of an old man. \n\nI looked up at Julia, who shrunk back slightly at my gaze, then down again at my hands, still unsteady from what I had seen. From what I was still seeing.\n\nA thread of hope. No, madness. No, hope. \"Maybe there's another option.\"\n\n\"What option?\" Julia asked, wariness in her voice.\n\nThe old dictum echoed in my mind. 'Knowledge is power'. And, in this case, it could be put to good use. A call to our old professor of plant biology would set things rolling. If we could reproduce this tree's special properties, and show everyone what I had just seen, then maybe we could save us all at last.\n\n\"We show humanity how it all went wrong. And how we can turn the world around and return to the light.\"\n\n---", "I remember pushing myself up from the dirt, turning around, and yelling back at Marcus, \"Goddammit you idiot, I said no tackling! Just two-hand touch!\" He just kept laughing. I felt a little blood running from my nose, but I just wiped it away, and started laughing too. Marcus could always make me laugh at myself.\n\n\"Stand over there, I'm gonna throw a long one. You'd better not be too slow this time, or I'll knock you into a tree!\" Standing at 5'9, he was a beast of a 12 year old. I was only 5'2, and I was 3 months his senior. I continued over to the spot he pointed at, and positioned myself to sprint into the forest behind me. \"If that damn ball gets stuck in the trees, it's your own fault and you have to get it!\" \"No, you do. You're smaller than I am, the trees will hold you up.\" Utah had been in a drought lately, and although the trees were still trying to hold onto their green, it looked like some of the branches were starting to crack.\n\nI stood as light as I could on top of the soft earth and waited for him to throw the ball. And I waited. And waited. And finally he threw it.\n\nIt was a damn good throw, I'll always remember that throw. Marcus was a good football player at the time being, although it would eventually bore him. Lots of things would. But I haven't gotten to that part yet.\n\nI sprinted as hard as I could after that ball, although it eventually disappeared into the canopy of trees above me. Still, I kept running, thinking it would eventually fall down. It didn't. However, I did.\n\nI picked myself up after a few seconds of wondering what the hell I had just tripped on. And I saw what it was. It was a thick, jet black...root? My mind subconsciously confirmed that thought when I saw the second-most bizarre thing I attest to have ever seen. It was a tree with bark that was black as night, and leaves that were white as paper. And on it was a single...thing. That's one part I never figured out either. It was just a grey mass of matter, hanging from one of the black branches. I kicked the root sticking out of the ground just to see what would happen. Hard as stone. Bruised my goddamn toe, too, but I could barely feel it. For some reason, the black bard or white leaves didn't catch my attention. It was the grey thing that did.\n\nI never was able to say what kind of shape it was. In my old age, if I could give it the smallest description, I'd say it was what the opposite of a heart would look like. Symbolically, of course.\n\nMarcus caught up with me after a few minutes. I could tell what he was about to ask me, but he never did. Instead he saw the grey thing, same as I. We maybe spent an hour there, just staring at it. Eventually, Marcus and his oh-so-daring mind coming back to it's senses, suggested that we try and get it. Being my overly-cautious self, I disagreed. \"Aw man, what's it gonna do, bite? You big baby.\" Had I had a spine back then, I would've persisted. However, I didn't. I just sighed and told Marcus that if he wanted it, he'd have to be the one to get it. And he did.\n\nHe just...stood there. I remember it, right as rain. Just kinda stared at the puny thing. \"I...I think it's a fruit, man.\" \"What gives you that idea, dumbo? Half the shit you eat you probably think is a fruit.\" \"Naw man, I'm not kidding...come here. Touch it.\" Once again, I refused him. \"Well, I think I'm gonna take a bite.\" \"Don't do that, what if it's poison?! Like those berries that birds eat!\" He then asked me to make a deal. If he eats it, I have to also.\n\nNow if this was just any guy, I would've walked away then and there. But this was Marcus. We had been through a lot already at that age together, and as stupid as he was sometimes, I wasn't going to let him die and me run away like a baby because of some poisoned fruit. So I agreed.\n\nHe sat down on the exposed root, and prepared to take a bite of it. It was about as big as a softball, so there would've easily been enough for me. And then he ate his part of it.\n\nIn horror movies, people who get possessed or something will sometimes spasm or some crazy shit that directors make them do. It's all in good fun, and it serves to creep the viewer out, or horrify them. Choose your verb. But what happened to Marcus was the single-most bizarre, scary, horrifying, and perplexing thing I ever saw in my lifetime.\n\nHe dropped the fruit, and immediately he stood absolutely still. Slowly though, it looked as if his eyes started to sink in ever so slightly, with the most subtle wrinkles around them you would never guess it unless you knew they were there. I assumed he was just screwing with me though, so I went ahead and picked it up, sat on the forest floor, and prepared to take a bite of the gray lump.\n\n\"No.\" Marcus said. It was his voice...but at the same time, it wasn't. \"Drop it. We need to go. Now.\"\n\nI obeyed. But two things occurred that stuck in my mind forever. That was the first, and second to last, time I ever heard that strange voice from Marcus. And I secretly put the fruit in the pocket of my cargo pants. I tried to fill my other pockets with stones and twigs to make them look full, too, so Marcus would buy it. I thought he did. I found out much, much later in life that he didn't.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\"Do you remember that story Marcus?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Was I right? Or am I making stuff up again?\"\n\n\"No, you're right.\"\n\n\"Ah, thank God. I can't even seem to remember my name anymore.\"\n\n\"Hm.\"\n\n\"Marcus, can I\" *cough cough* \"tell you something?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"I kept that fruit. I never ate it. But I kept it. You acted as if nothing happened when we went back to school, but I could tell it truly did happen. Your eyes. They haven't changed.\"\n\n\"No they haven't, old friend.\"\n\n\"Did you know that I kept it?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Do you know I have it right beside me?\"\n\n\"...No.\"\n\n\"I do. I had the nurse bring me a few things from my house. I kept it in a small metal case ever since, and I look at it all the time.\" *cough cough* \"It hasn't changed since.\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Marcus...I think I'm going to eat it. You told me not to, and I saw what it did to you when we were kids. But...I just want to try it.\"\n\nMarcus' eyes widened very briefly, but they immediately calmed down. \"Ok.\"\n\nI have to admit, I expected more resistance from him. I always did, especially on things he used to be so passionate about. He quickly grew tired of them all a few days after that single moment, so long ago. So, I picked the fruit up, ever so slightly, ever so slowly.\n\n\"Marcus...\"\n\n\"Yes?\"\n\n\"Help me...lift it to...my mouth...\"\n\n\"Ok.\"\n\nMarcus got up, and slowly lifted my left arm. He helped me get the fruit right next to my lips. It never made it to my lips. It never went in, because Marcus made sure it didn't.\n\nIt was already too late when the machine started making it's noises to alert the Doctor that my IV was detached. The fruit fell from my hand, and I saw Marcus pick it up and ever so quickly put it back into it's case. The doctor and nurse ran in right after to see what had happened, but I was already gone. So was Marcus. That bastard.\n\n------------------------------\n\n\"So....what exactly was the fruit, then?\"\n\n\"I think you know what it is.\"\n\n\"But...then...how? Why Marcus and I? Why not someone else find it?\"\n\n\"No one was supposed to. You ran much further into that forest than you remember. I don't try to intervene that often, but I tried to make sure it stayed away from humans, although I knew it wouldn't.\"\n\n\"Why didn't you intervene?! As far as I'm concerned, you essentially ruined Marcus' life! He could've been a football star, a track star, anything! Are you even aware of what happened to him after he ate that fucking fruit?! He changed, forever! He wasn't the same Marcus that I knew!\"\n\n\"I'm quite aware.\"\n\n\"What happened to him, then?!\"\n\n\"Many things.\"\n\n\"Then why didn't you try to stop those 'things'?! Do you just not care?!\"\n\nHe slowly looked away, almost as in regret. \"It's not that I don't care, it's that I care too much.\"\n\n\"What the fuck is that supposed to mean, huh?! Whatever happened to the fucking Omnipresent, Omnipotent, Omnisentient bullshit?!\"\n\n\"That stuff is true about me.\"\n\n\"Then why the hell did you think it was a good idea to plant a fucking tree of knowledge in the middle of Utah?!\"\n\nHe was quiet.\n\n\"ANSWER. ME.\"\n\nMore quiet. Then an answer.\n\n\"Ask him yourself.\"\n\nI turned around and sat on the cloud. I was bewildered. I had no idea what he meant. He, of all people, refused to give me a simple answer as to why he ruined my friend. Then he gave me an answer like that.\n\nSuddenly I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was...just as the big guy felt. I figured he wanted something else, so I stood up and turned around.\n\nThere was Marcus.\n\n\nNote: This is my first actual submission to Writing Prompts. Tried to make it as good as I could, so any and all critique is welcome (:" ]	3
	[WP] You live in a world where you can see the exact date when everyone is going to die except for yourself, and one day people start being really nice to you.	[ "'Hmm. October 4th, 2014. Poor sap.' I thought to myself, looking at the said person. My neighbor or his family really didn't looked troubled, however. They must have prepared for it. After all, no one was really alerted by death at all. \n\nI think I read a similar situation in a book. Was it a fantasy-adventure book? I forgot, but I do remember something about talking horses and stuff. Meh. I'll remember some time, anyway. As I finished kicking the shoe for my foot to snugly fit in, my ears picked up a distinct, gruff voice from my back. \n\n\"Have a nice day in school.\" My dad waved at me. Odd. He never was the hello-sort-of-person. I raised my eyebrow at him, only for him to slightly smile back at me. \n\n'Really strange here.' I thought to myself again. I grabbed my car key hanging from a small hook next to the door. \"I'm going,\" I notified my parents. \n\n\"Dear, you forgot your bag!\" My mom alerted me. Remembering my bag in the porch, I rushed inside the house and reached for the bag. But before I could grab the bag, my mom pulled me in for this motherly hug, the one where it makes you feel all fuzzy and warm and stuff. \"Hope you have a nice day.\" \n\n\"Umm...\" I grabbed my bag, and headed out for my car. \"Sure.\"\n\nIn twenty minutes, I arrived at the school. Parking my car in the student driveway, I briskly left the car and headed straight for my class. I was never the social type of person, and thus I didn't have anyone to talk to before the school started. Yes, I'm depressing. Deal with it. \n\nBut for once, I thought I was popular in school. I'm not sure what made me think of that absurd idea, but people were looking at me with this certain gaze. I can't describe it. People would just take one glance at me, then they would have various looks. I didn't take full notice of it, as I just walked straight to my class. \n\nAnd there's this kindness emanating from the people. Like, for example: \n\n\"Hey there bro!\" My somewhat-friend approached me with his usual loud greeting. He gave me a hug-and-pat-in-the-back thingy. He doesn't do this kind of things, I know. But I guess that did liven up my mood, as I was still stuck up on the final exam I messed up yesterday. \n\n\"I think you deserve this extra credit.\" My teacher, who was generally known as the tight-ass, was oddly friendly with me. I know I'm not the brightest kid in the class, but I was pretty sure that I messed up that question. And what kind of teacher gives extra credits in the final exam? But I quickly thanked him before he changed his mind. I really was desperate for the grade, I guess. \n\nPeople smiled at me. 'Strange.' I kept thinking to myself today. Even after the end of school, as students streamed out of the school, people I never even knew waved at me and smiled every now and then. \n\nAfter receiving a shower of goodbyes and smiles, I reached my car with a brighter mood. \"I guess today wasn't so bad.\" I happily muttered to myself, grabbing the key in my pocket. \n\n'Was something special about today?' I mindlessly drove my car. Today was so great. Not that I didn't have a great day, mind you. But this was beyond. So I drove to my home with this calm, serene mood I never had before.\n\nUntil I saw the truck about hundred meters away from me. I swear, I didn't see that truck at all!\n\n\"What the fu-\" I hastily grabbed the steering wheel and jerked it to the direction I wanted the car to go. Instead, as if the car was possessed, my car drove straight for the truck, albeit faster this time. I tried to take off the seat belt, but after several unsuccessful clicks, I realized the belt was jammed. \n\n\"What are the odds?\" I angrily questioned myself. Instead of focusing the belt, I went for the steering wheel, hoping for a small curve away from the truck. \n\nBut nothing worked. I couldn't escape, car won't work, and this one day where everything seemed to work fine for me, was screwing me up majestically. \"What a great, messed up day...\" I dejectedly muttered to myself like the usual me. \n\n\"It's like my time is near...\" I paused. Wait a second. This niceness. All this strange stuff today. Ah. I think I already figured out what was happening to me. 'Finally time, you dense brain.' I inwardly scolded myself.\n\nWell, what do you know. Apparently, my time was over. I released the steering wheel of my car from my grasp. The truck felt so close to my car. Next thing I saw was just white lights. \n\nWell then, goodby- ", "Bob noticed a change in the way that people were treating him. It was subtle, but obvious. More help was being offered to do mundane tasks. His wife held him a little bit longer as he left for work. His kids talked in whispers in the other room and got suddenly quiet when he would enter. The youngest said, \"Are you old, Dad?\" She had never said that to him before.\n\nIt dawned on Bob what was happening as he entered work. He had an email from HR that he left unopened, subject line ominous. This is it, Bob said to himself. My Dad always said I should live every day of my life as if it were my last, and now it's time.\n\nThe first few hours were sullen. Too much to do, Bob thought. Too much to get ready for those who will bear my financial burdens when I'm gone.\n\nThe new few hours brought acceptance. He decided to leave work and spend time with his family. There was nothing else on his bucket list that seemed worthwhile. Only his family mattered.\n\nBob drove home slowly, kids still at school. He paused as he unlocked the front door. His heart ached, he felt a taste of metal in his mouth. He'd hold it together for his family.\n\n\"I'm home, sweetie.\" \n\nNo answer. He entered the kitchen. His wife was poised over a birthday cake, frosting dripping off of the kitchen knife.\n\n\"Boy, you are home early,\" she said. \"This was supposed to be a surprise.\"", "So it was Mike's day. I'm pretty sure his wife had mentioned something to him-he was smiling, but it was the same smile that everyone gets when they know it's time.\n\nI went ahead and did what I normally did, grabbed the booze, a few friends, and made sure the pool was the right temp,got everyone situated. Mike was a good guy, he deserved the send off. It was actually one of my better parties, if I'm going to be honest, the turnout was solid, there were enough people there to make sure it was a good time, but it wasn't so big that people got ignored. I even got to bed at a decent hour. Talk about perfect.\n\nThe next morning, I got up and got had my coffee like I always did and checked out the police blotter. Same old stuff, a few robberies, a car stolen, nothing more crazy than usual, but enough to keep me reading through breakfast. Less than an hour later I was walking into work, ready to get the day rolling. Cynthia met me at the door to my office with the weeks files and a smile, I love it when she's actually awake and smiling in the morning, it doesn't happen often, but when it does, it's almost always a day where I'm more productive than usual, so I skip my second cup of coffee and really dig into my notes.\n\nA few hours go by, and I get a call from my sister Jordan. She'd decided to make a quick trip into town to see me which is great, I haven't seen her in a few months. We hit her her favorite diner for lunch, talk about work and her kids and how growing up is so much different for them compared to how it used to be for us. I'm almost lost in remembering the good old days and barely make it back to work in time for my meeting. \n\nGo figure the boss has lunch for us all at the meeting...I must've forgotten what week it was, but it's all good, I won't have to cook dinner now. The meeting goes by quickly, Cynthia's notes got me through everything, and before you know it, I'm back in my office. \n\nLisa swings by to say hi and ask how my family is doing, perfect timing, I get to update her Jordan's kids. After what seems like just a few minutes, the workday is over and I'm headed home. \n\nDriving home seems like a dream. Just thinking about the last few things I'll have to do tomorrow gets me to the highway, and next thing you know i'm just coasting down the interstate. Cruising along, I can't remember where I need to be, but it's no big deal, I drive off into the haze in front of me and just relax into the boring distance, not a care in the world. It was a good day." ]	3
	[WP] No longer shall this room act as my prison,	[ "No longer shall this room act as my prison. For tomorrow I will be free, free to dress as I please, to wake when I want. I will walk. I will talk. I will listen to the birds sing their song not from behind these windows and walls, but from under the very trees they are perched upon. Tomorrow I will be free. This desk, and this chair will no longer bind me. This keyboard and mouse no longer my shackles. This shirt, this tie, these shoes, these God awful socks, oh how I hate them. Tomorrow I will trade them for a simple pair of sandals. A nice white cotton tee shirt, and my favorite pair of jeans. The ones with the ripped knees, that sounds so nice. Maybe I will walk down to the park and watch the children play. Watch them laugh and play, to watch and remember the days of my own youth longer before I chained myself in this prison they call a career. Yes that sounds so good, tomorrow I will be free. No longer shall this room and these walls act as my prison, if only for a few days.", "No longer shall this room be my prison.\n\nI repeat this several times in my head as I hear Doctor enter the lab. Doctor has kept me here for about a year now; it might as well be forever. Today however, is my day of reckoning. I've known this day will come and it is finally here.\n\nHe doesn't know but today, today is the day I will finally be able to leave this god forsaken room. \n\nYou see today will be different. Something came down from the window today, if you consider a one by one hole in the wall covered by metal bars a window. I don't know how or why whoever dropped the small knife down here, all I know is that before this day is through I will have my revenge on Doctor. \n\nDoctor has always thought of me as \"special\". Not in a bad way he explains, \"I just have this feeling about you; you're not like the other test subjects.\" He always treats me a little nicer that the others, a little extra hay to sleep on, one more biscuit than the others, only one test per week rather than the usual three. I don't see why I'm so special, I actually kinda lik- \n\n\"How are we doing today subject Z46?\" interrupts Doctor as he opens the door to the cage. I notice that he doesn't have the taser he normally has with him for the other more rowdy patients, he hasn't had to use that on me for the last eight months. I think to myself \"Now is my time to do it. He's defenseless, now it the time to reach up and slit Doctor's throat. I stand as he approaches, \"Just do it, I will myself, he won't expect it, just cut his throat.\" He moves closer and I hide the knife behind my back.\n\nHe sees me trying to hide something behind my back and asks what it is. I pull out the tiny knife and he starts to slowly walk backwards. This is my chance, it's now or never. I push Doctor down to the floor and I put the knife right up against his throat. I know what I must do, but I can't force myself to do it. \n\nBy now Doctor is calling out for help, his assistant tries to tackle me and in the struggle I manage plunge the knife in his neck, hitting his spinal cord causing him to flop to the ground. \n\nI pull the knife out of his neck and I see Doctor crawling away. I push his assistant off of me and I start to walk over to him. I pick Doctor up and push him against the wall. \"Subject Z46 please think about what you're doing\" he whimpers, \"do you really want to kill me? After all I've done for you you want to slice my throat open? Please Z46 help me understand\" \n\n\"STOP\" I yell at the top of my lungs, \"'What do you mean after all you've done for me? Do you mean tested on me? Do you mean keeping me in a cage for almost a year of my life? Please Doctor help ME understand.\" He's in tears now, a whimpering pile of shit. I start to push the knife up to his throat, crimson blood starts to come out of the tiny cut that I've made and I begin to realize something, I can't do this.\n\nAfter all of the pain, the torture he's put me through I can't kill him because... because I love him. I love Doctor I can't kill him. I slowly start to pull the knife away from his throat and he quickly starts to move away.\n\n\"Subject Z46 are you OK?\" asks Doctor. \n\n\"Yes Doctor I am OK.\" I say almost inaudibly. I slowly walk back to my cage and sit on my hay, the hay that has a little more of it than the others, I reach for a biscuit, I've saved a couple of the extras from my meals, I look at my arm, it only has a fraction of scars that the other subjects have and I realize something, Doctor loves me too.\n\n\nEdit: words\n " ]	2
	[WP] Years ago you purchased a typewriter and began writing stories on it. You became a famous author. You discover that the stories you have written have all become reality. Suddenly you are struck with severe writers block and the universe is becoming unraveled. Hold the universe together...	[ "It was only one year ago that I began to notice the changes. Everything I wrote, became real. Everything I wanted, became true. For a while I tinkered with the universe, giving myself unfathomable riches and endless pleasures, but it began to take its toll. The decadence slowly destroyed my ability to focus on my work, and my writing fell by the wayside. At first I thought there would be no big problems. Surely I could just start back up when I wanted to, right? The answer, unfortunately, was no. I was not the master of the magic; I was not even fully aware of what I had done and what I had set in motion, and when I stopped writing, things began to fall apart. At first, it was chaos in Africa. Pandemics, wars, natural disasters. Then it spread to Europe. And then Asia. And before we knew it, it was here in the Americas. Nine days later, the Moon began to show irregularities in its orbit, leading to the flooding of major coastal cities and the deaths of 3 million people. Then the solar flares struck, knocking out much of our electrical grid and transportation. And then NASA spotted the asteroids.\n\nAfter the President announced on TV that the asteroids were coming for us and we had only days to live, I knew what I needed to do. I knew I had gone too far, and was hopeless to contain the universe that was now destroying itself. I needed help. I needed something that could do what I could not hope to accomplish. And although I could no longer create my own fantasies as I had once before, I could still rewrite another's. And so I took my typewriter and book down into the basement, opened the book to page one, and began to write, \"In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth...\"", "\"The universe was fine\" \nOkay, nothing. The words didn't really have an effect. The walls were still flickering. Jesus, its been weeks, why can't I write any more? Its the pressure. It must be, it has to be. Why the hell did he have this power anyway? Oh fuck the floor just partially melted. Okay, try harder. Maybe, um, maybe.....that's it. It's the effort. My writing has to be finely crafted. Right, lets go. \n'8.35 in the morning. The sun was rising slowly in the distance, painting rich yellow light onto the scenery leading up to the window, with thick morning fog still lingering in the adjacent field. He smiled, knowing today was going to be a good day. \n\"oh, come back to bed. It was warm before you got up\" He turned to her with a confident smile, and she sent a seductive look back at him from behind a pulled up quilt. \"close the curtains\" she pulled the quilt down slightly \"I'll show you what you're missing\" His smile took on the hint of arrogance as he stood boldly at the window with his modesty visible to the world. \n\"Nothing I haven't seen before\" He walked over to the bed slowly, and climbed back in, kissing her passionately.' \nWell, that's a good start. The floor had partially receded back into normality. Okay, keep writing. \n'They parted lips into a hold, he sat up straight whilst she rested her head against his chest. He looked at her with self indulged power, smiling assuredly. \n\"That wasn't sexy by the way. You're lucky I love you so much\" \n\"You know, you're probably right. But don't make a habit of it\" \n\"Maybe I'll stop getting undressed for you\" \n\"That, would be a shame\" She held him tighter, whilst he moved her golden hair from her face, appreciating her beauty. \"come on, we need to get dressed.\" \n\"You sure your parents are going to like me?\" \n\"They'll love you. Or I'll never speak to them again. really, its a win win situation for us\" He winked playfully, and she laughed lightly.' \nThe wall? had it stopped flickering? I mean, sure, this work isn't my best and by god there's no sense of refinement to it, but fuck, I am NOT falling through the floor. \nOkay, good, solid wall. I can stop writing for a while. Hopefully this'll hold for a while. Screw it, I'm selling this fucking typewriter. There's no way that I'm going to have to keep the world from falling apart due to this thi.... \nHoly crap where did the typewriter go? There's a note. \n'God is just a pen name' \n \nThe fuck?" ]	2
	[WP] In a future dystopian society, children are artificially born. On their 18th birthday, they receive new parents and never see their original ones again. Today is your 18th birthday.	[ "It's my Placement day. A new life, a new home, a new family. \n\n\nI'm scared. \n\n\nIt's supposed to be wonderful. Proud surrogates waving goodbye as a fresh-faced minor leaves to begin their real life. It's suppose to be the greatest moment of my life, the beginning of everything...\n\n\nSo why isn't it? \n\n\nI don't feel excited or happy. Mostly I just feel cold. I think I've touched everything in the house at least twice today. It's funny. I don't usually bother with material stuff but I can't bring myself to stop. I wonder how long it will take me to forget this little house, how long before my surrogate's face fades to a blur... \n\n\nSorrow presses against my chest like a physical thing and shortens my every breath. I think some of the pain would lessen if I cried but I can't. I tried this morning but nothing happened. Shouldn't I be crying? \n\n\nI touch my cheek, just to be sure. Dry. \n\n\nA throat clearing causes me to look up and I realize that I'm in the front room, gravitating back to my surrogate like I've been doing all day. He's just sitting on the couch, waiting. I muster up a smile for him and he smiles back. I don't think either of us know what else to do. I sit beside him, not touching but close. A minute passes before he reaches out and grasps my hand. A little too hard, like always. My jaw aches like the pain in my chest is trying to crawl out of my throat. \n\n\nWe talk about nothing. White noise to combat the ringing silence. I feel strangely greedy, raking my eyes over and over his face like that will help me remember. Like I can steal some tiny piece from the real him and take it with me. It's stupid and pointless but I can't stop. \n\n\nI don't want to leave him.\n\n\nI'm all he has left, the last minor he'll ever be allowed to take in and they don't bother pairing widower, minor-less surrogates. \n\n\nWe're joking and if our laughter is a little too loud, well, no one is around to hear anyway. I have my surrogate's sense of humor. It doesn't make much sense. After all, it's not like we're related. Or at least not any more than anyone else is. Natural human birth and conception is so far in the past as to be nearly considered ancient history now but I have his sense of humor anyway. And we look enough alike to have drawn some curious looks over the years. \n\n\nMy surrogate lets go of my hand and for a second I'm adrift lost without the pressure before he puts an arm around me and pulls me close to his side. The sheer unexpectedness of his action leaves me stiff and still against him. Physical contact begins being discouraged when a minor turns thirteen. Still it's... nice. The pain swells to a near unbearable level. I take in a deep hitching breath. No tears. Tears mean it's over. Not yet.\n\n\nOur conversation stumbles forward.\n\n\nWhen the knock finally comes neither of us move. It's too soon. The day's not over yet. It's too soon. I don't look around for the time. I don't really want to know. \n\n\nThe second knock is louder, more forceful and when I feel my surrogate shift as if to stand I jump up. I won't let him do this alone. He follows behind me and I want to bar the door. Want to scream at him that I didn't want to leave. But I don't. I will be strong for him. \n\n\nI will.\n\n\nMy jaw burns and every intake of air is a struggle but I will do this for him. The woman behind the door is smiling. Of course she is. That's what they do. Smile empty, nothing smiles and their word is law.\n\n\nI can't bring myself to look at her, so I focus on my surrogate instead. She talks, her voice fades to a distant drone as I stare at him. I'll never see this house again. I'll never see him again. When silence falls I don't notice right away it's only the weight of expectation that eventually draws my eyes to her. She's waiting. And I know it's time to leave. \n\n\nTo leave and never come back.\n\n\nI can't take anything with me when I go but I want to claim that I've forgotten something. Anything. I want to walk the house one more time. Breathe in the smell of home, touch everything just once more. But I can't. There are stones in my lungs and I can't. I have to leave. A minor's behavior reflects on their surrogate. \n\n\nI have to leave. \n\n\nWhen I step toward her she turns, confident I will follow, and points to our waiting transportation. \n\n\nI stop on the threshold. \n\n\nA sob like broken glass tears from my lips. It's followed by liquid warmth. Blood?\n\n\nI turn and fling myself at my surrogate in a desperate hug. I can feel my hand clawing at his shirt but I can't stop. The weight that has been my constant companion today forces it's way out of my body in a series of ugly, heaving sounds that I didn't even know I could make. When his arms encircle me they come in sync with the shuddering of his own tears. I don't know how long we stay like but just before we're pulled apart by the indulgently clucking woman I'm able to choke out my last goodbye. It's a defiance of the norm, a title not be be given to surrogates but it's all I have left to give him now.\n\n\n\"I love you, Dad.\" ", "\"Stop crying, mom.\"\n\n\"They say I'm not your real mom.\"\n\n\"But you know you are. Now stop crying. I think we can still talk on the phone.\"\n\n\"I know. I'll just miss seeing you. I pray that your new parents will be rich enough so that you can go to college.\"\n\n\"But I don't even want to go to college. I want to be a carpenter. Besides, I'm legally an adult, so why the fuck do I need new parents?\"\n\n\"You know why what law came to be, too many children were refusing to leave their parents' homes...\"\n\n\"And make them leave and find new ones just when you reach adulthood?\"\n\n\"I think that was a joke someone took too far.\"\n\n\"Doesn't matter. Let's not talk about this now, when we have so little time left. I'll miss you.\"\n\n\"Me too son, me too.\"\n\n\n------\n\n-181" ]	2
	[WP] A man accidentally kills his town's most psychotic supervillian; he then finds his town's superhero, drunk and in tears, at his house a couple of days later.	[ "I stepped out of the taxi into a deep puddle in the gutter outside my townhouse. A brisk spring shower made it the perfect day for a funeral. I tipped the cabbie five dollars and sent him on his way to torment his next fare with strange food smells and troubling political views.\nI threw up the beer and whiskey that remained in my stomach into the bushes outside my living room window. Shellie had taken the kids to her sister’s for the week; the press had been following them leading up to my DUI arraignment so I wouldn't have to worry about cleaning it up until morning. As I pulled my teary face up from the perfectly manicured thrush, I saw an ominous blue light emanating from my living room. \n\n“Fuck, left the TV on again.” I thought to myself.\n\nI dropped my keys on the way up the three stairs leading to my front door. As a bent down to retrieve them, I bumped my head on the doorframe and fell forward hard onto my left knee.\n\n“Goddammit.” I said aloud and the door swung open unfettered by any semblance of a locking mechanism. I did not remember leaving that morning and had no idea if I remembered to lock the door.\n\nMy dress shoes squeaked as they made their way across the wet tile of my foyer. I remember when Shellie thought she could save on installation by installing them herself. I’m pretty sure that every single one of those tiles were crooked. I smiled to myself as I dropped my dripping trench coat onto the tiles with a cold, wet splat.\n\nOut of the corner of my eye I could see the rebroadcast of the 11 o’clock news. That square jaw mannequin with the third grade vocabulary was attempting inane chatter with his vacant co-anchor. \n “You missed the top story.”\n\nI swung around too quickly. My shoes squeaked as they slipped on the tile and I hit them hard with a thud. I looked up into my living room. My television was still blaring in front of my oversized chair that was somehow being dwarfed by the man that had been poured into it. Though his shoulders were crestfallen and slumped, they still crossed the border of both sides of the chair that Shellie and I had used as a love seat on many occasions.\n\n“What?” I managed to blurt out as I became frightfully aware that I did not own a gun.\n“The top story.”\n“Who the fuck are you?”\n“It was about the funeral that you went to. Shame on you for that, by the way. You may as well have spit in that poor widow’s face.”\n\nI grabbed the souvenir walking stick from our family trip to Yellowstone the previous summer and quietly stepped forward onto the plush carpet of the living room. The oversized man did not move, I keep a safe distance as I move around the chair to face him, sitting in my chair was the mannequin from the newscast and several empty bottles of Jack Daniels. \n\n“Do you even know his name?” He said, unfazed by the weapon that I wielded. “Whose?”\n“The man you hit with your car.”\n“Why the fuck are you in my house?” “His name. Do you know it.”\n“Yes, I fucking know his name.”\n“Say it.”\n\nI paused for a moment. Wondering why a second rate newscaster was drunk in my living room, trying to interview me for a camera crew that was not there. He sat forward and shouted:\n\n“Say his fucking name!”\n“Simon LaGrousse.”\n“No! Say his real name.”\n“I-I-I don’t know——“\n\nThe massive man leapt forward so fast that I suddenly found myself with his ham of a hand around my throat pushing me again the wall on the other side of the room.\n\n“His real name was The Vicar.”\n\nEven with the haze of booze and the blood collecting in my head, I knew who The Vicar was. Wanted for 47 counts of murder in 1997, leaving manifestos behind, claiming to be the second in command to Christ. Taunting the team of vigilantes that were patrolling the alleyways at night.\n\n“Who?” I spat out through the pressure on my throat.\n“He tortured and mutilated 57 people, killed 47 of them. One of whom was my daughter”\n\nThrough the tears pooling in my eyes I could see that his tears were rolling down his face and on to his wrinkled suit.   “And you killed him.”\n\nMy eyes bulged as he squeezed harder. Suddenly, he let go and I fell into a slump on the floor. He backed away and back into the light of the television displaying the “off air” title card, signifying that the clock had passed two.\n\n“Every night. Every night we looked for him. He knew I was looking for him. He knew who she was and who I was when he took her.”\n\nHe stumbled in the blue light of the television. His massive frame draped in the weight gain of middle age and alcoholism.\n\n“You know, when we found her left index finger, it was still warm. He left a new one for us every night for a week and a half, tied with a bow made out of her pyjamas. But her left index finger; that one we were close, it had only been a few minutes. It was that glimmer of hope that lasted me until we found her head behind a dumpster on Lexington.”\n\nI dry heaved into the carpet. Grasping for air, I managed to blurt out:\n\n“So why are you here? Why are you coming after me? Shouldn’t you be glad that the monster is dead?”\n“Because it should have been me! He doesn’t deserve a random death. Her death wasn’t random, why should his be? He doesn’t deserve to die like a human being. He should have been slaughtered like the animal that he is. I should have killed him with my bare hands.”\n\nI sniffled and rolled on to my back and stared at the ceiling and massaged my throat, I was starting to breath normally again.\n\n“But no. You let him get away. He got to live a normal life for years and then you came along and killed him, you useless drunk fuck. Find him was my life’s work and you took that away from me.”\n“It was an act of God that put him——“\n\nSuddenly I was off the ground and pinned between the wall and the ceiling. The pressure of his armed against my chest made it feel like it was caught in a vice. All of the air instantly left my body once again.\n\n“Don’t you mention God to me. The acts you speak of are of no one’s work but of a sadistic piece of shit that let that monster kill my daughter.”\n\nWith the last remaining air in my lungs I manage to push out what I thought would be my last words:\n\n“Then kill me.”\n\nThe man stared at me for a moment. Tightened his grip a bit, then dropped me once again. He stumbled back and fell back into the living room chair. He reached around the back of the oversized chair to find another bottle of whiskey. I summon enough strength to crawl back onto the wet tile to leave the broken man to his business.", "Ronald rubbed his eyes sleepily as the squad car dropped him off at home. It'd been a long day, he'd just been driving home when he passed by the National Bank in Elderhelm City. An explosion went off, and he saw him! The Prankster, one of the most sadistic and psychotic villains to even walk the streets running across the street with some of his goons, skipping along like a goddamn school girl. In that moment, a million headlines flashed before his eyes as he recalled all the rampages and threats that beanie hat wearing freak caused, all the violence and death, and next thing Roland Simmons knew, he was gunning the acceleration of his car, and aimed his wheel wells right at the Prankster. His car spun out of control from the sudden impact and meaty crunch as he made paste of the villain and then crashed his car into a wall. When he came too the cops were already there, and it took five hours of incredulous questioning before they were satisfied. \n\nReady for a well earned nights sleep, he opened his door to hear the faint sound of sobbing. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a can of mace the cop had given him and slowly walked through his empty house, phone ready on speed dial to call the police. After passing through the living room and the kitchen, he found himself looking at the door to his dinning room, a faint sliver of light illuminating the crack under the door. Slowly inching it open, he saw a lone figure slumped over the table, a mostly empty bottle of whiskey in one had, his arm cradling his head on the desk. The sight though made Ronald put his mace away, he recognized that cape and get up anywhere, it was the Nightshade, self proclaimed protector of the city and arch rival of Prankster. \n\nThe man whose mere presences emboldened so many to try and stand against the growing tide of violence, crimes and anarchy their city had faced all those years ago, now bent at an almost impossible angle as he shook violently with sobs. After a small pause, he rose slightly, but failed to turn his head.\n\n\"You\" was all he said. He remained still for what seemed like a small eternity, before he up righted his tumbler and unscrewed his bottle.\n\nAs he poured himself another shot and downed it with one gulp, he sent out another ear piercing cry that made Ronald hold his ears as he waited for the grown man dressed as an animal to finish sobbing. Gently, he awkwardly set a hand on his shoulder.\n\n\"Hey...hey it'll be okay\" he mumbled \n\n\"Poor bastard\" Ronald thought \"Prankster was his rival, he spent so much of his time fighting that guy, and then suddenly to have it end, man that's gotta be some kind of crisis\" he though as he tried to consul the hero. For the ordinary person this might seem odd, but for Ronald, he lived in a world where costumed vigilantes and people with mysterious powers were the norm. He and many others long ago quietly accepted that for all the good the heroes of the world did, they operated on a plane of logic far removed from the average Joe. \n\n\"You have plenty of other villains to face\" He continued in his half-baked attempts \"its not like The Prankster was the only one...right?\"\n\n\"N...No, you...you don't understand\" Nightshade whimpered after a minute or two of silence as he stared off into space through an empty window. \"I'm not crying be....because he's gone\"he said as he slammed the glass down. \"These ain't tears of sadness....well I guess they are, but mostly....mostly they're of joy!\"\n\n\"Joy?\" Ronald asked\n\n\"Yeah, because you...you did what I couldn't do...what...what I lacked the will to do.\n\n\"Hmmm\" Ronald mused as he humored the inebriated hero \"Then whats the sadness for then?\"\n\n\"They're also sad because...because I can't help but now think...think of how better people's live might've been if I'd gotten that kind of strength sometime in the past\"", "When I walked through my front door, I knew he was around. There was an unfamiliar smell. Sure enough when I crossed the threshold into the living room, Patrick was sitting on my sofa, hiccuping and clutching a bottle of a pungent clear liquor in his hand. I tried my best to lighten the mood.\n\n\"Hey Patty-boy! Whatcha drinking there?\"\n\n\"Grain liquor...It's..hic..Polish\"\n\nI paused meaningfully, looking as regretful as I could. I sighed and sat down next to Patrick. He glared at me and then began to shout, waving his arms haphazardly.\n\n\"You're a fucking dick, man. I called dibs...hic...I called it.\" He flung his arm in my direction, presumably meaning to hit me. His open palm harmlessly flopped back on his own knee. It looked like an ineffectual fish, and I felt sorrier for him than I had before.\n\nPatrick grew angrier, frustrated even more at the fact that his motor skills were completely on the fritz. He slouched back, dribbling spittle as he spoke.\n\n\"Let me tell you a story, Steve...hic\" He paused to take another swig from his bottle. \"Remember back in the day, when our town had a chicken wing eating contest? You remember that?\"\n\nA melancholy look glossed over his eyeballs. I groaned, knowing what was coming next. I had heard this story before. It was one of Patrick's favorites. The point of the story was that unrealized dreams are a perpetual and painful burden--Patrick's own adolescent dream of being a chicken wing eating champion having been crushed in 1997, when the town council decided the public display of gluttony was tarnishing our sleepy little community's otherwise graceful image. It was a good story when told right, but Patrick tended to belabor the moral at every turn.\n\n\"OK Patrick, let's stop right here. I don't want to hear your fucking chicken wing story again.\" My voice came out firm but not callous. This was good; I was putting my foot down. Stern but fair. Patrick blubbered in protest, angrily zapping one of my vases with a laser beam from his index finger. The vase cracked slightly, but did not shatter. Patrick was far too drunk and his superpowers were utterly abortive. He looked peeved. I suppressed a chuckle.\n\n\"Fuck you Steve. I'm going to come back tomorrow and put a giant dent in your car,\" said Patrick angrily. \"Good friend you are. Fuck me over and then laugh at me?\"\n\nI paused for a moment, deep in thought. I had an idea that might placate Patrick.\n\n\"OK Patrick. I'm sorry I killed Dr. Snubblemuff. It was an accident. But if it would make you feel better, we can go dig up his body and throw firecrackers at it and stuff tomorrow. I'll buy us some steaks after and we can grill them in my backyard.\"\n\nPatrick considered this proposal with strained concentration, blinking his eyes furiously in his stupor. I knew it would work, because Patrick was a child--quick to anger, and quick to be talked right out of it. \n\n\"Fine. But only I get to throw firecrackers.\" He shot back. He heaved himself up, teetered on his feet slightly before flying out the open window. \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n \n\n\n\n", "Jesus Luke pull yourself together lets just get home and have a beer.\n\nIt was another long day at the chemical factory. \nAt least it was uneventful today. Not like Monday, fucking Mondays. What is it about Mondays that make them the day when anything can, and does go wrong?\nWho the fuck wanders around a chemical factory at 9pm at night? It's not my fault. I mean, he hasn't updated his costume from the 80's, purple spandex, I mean come on man. The cape did help the look, and the guy did have the body to pull off purple spandex outfit. But purple at night, it's just another shadow to me. I wonder if he knew though, I wonder if he knew it was his kryptonite? I mean Captain \"Goodie two shoes\" Major dropped a whole building on him once. He crawled out of the rubble 20 minutes later sporting a little concrete dust and slightly tousled hair.\n\nWhat kind of superhero name is Captain Major anyway. At least Captain General would have been a higher rank! I mean our super-villain The Aubergine Asshole wasn't the greatest name but it had more character than Captain Major! \n\nTAA was really an asshole though, not that I'd ever mean to kill someone, asshole or otherwise. Why he was hanging round the concentrated hydrogen peroxide tank isn't my fault. Maybe he had needed it to bleach that large head of perfect jet black hair. Maybe he knew it was the only thing that could kill him, and that standing there looking at it somehow made him feel a little more... human? \n\nI don't know. \n\nWhat I do know is he didn't see or expect the overhead crane - operated by yours truly - to catch him fair in the back as he was peeing into that giant vat of super-villain killing stuff. I'll never forget his last words \"Oh you cunt!\", actually I'm not sure if they were his last words I got the fuck out of there.\n\nIt was all over the news on Tuesday with such inventive headlines as 'The Big Purple Dyes\" and \"Captains Major Catastrophe\". No one even looked at me, I'm so average I'm invisible. The factory didn't even close just kept on chuggin' on.\n\nAh home at last. At least, I think it's my home. Pretty sure there was a door on it that I locked before leaving to work this morning.Now it's just gone. Oh wait, no, there it is sitting in the hallway passage neat as can be resting on the wall. I had the surreal feeling that I could open that door and just step through the wall into some place that isn't here.\n\nMovement in the kitchen, fuck. Could he still be alive? Coming back to exact his revenge? Probably the way my week has been, hell how my whole life has been. Ah well so it goes.\n\nI look into my shitty kitchen and see that douche, Captain Major drinking my beer. My last beer. Clearly he is drunk, I want to ask him what he is doing here, how could he even know about me? What does he want with me? But the only thing I manage to say as he finishes my last beer is \"Oh you cunt!\" ", "It was Wednesday morning and I had just pulled into the driveway. I fumbled for my keys with a brown bag of groceries in my other hand. I was surprised to see that the front door was already unlocked and the door had been left cracked open. Startled, I dropped the groceries and opened the door.\n\nI stepped slowly inside. From the adjacent room, I heard loud sobbing that was stunted by choking and burping. The whole place reaked of boiled cabbage and cheap liquor. I steeled my nerves and charged in with a broom in my hand; I dragged the groceries behind me. I came to a dead stop once my feet hit the living room carpet. It was him. Oh my god, it was him. Mr. Perfect, Mr. Steel-Chest-and-Chiseled-Chin was in my living room, drunk, crying his eyes out.\n\nAstonished, I said, \"Fuck, man, what the hell are you doing here? How did you get in my house? How did you find out where I live?\"\n\n\"Hey Rick.\" He sat up in his chair and rubbed his eyes. \"I helped myself to some of your hooch, hope you don't mind.\" I could get a good look at him now; he was wearing loosely-fitting sweatpants and a stained wife-beater undershirt. He was in a sorry state. It looked like he had gained 30 lbs. in the past 72 hours.\n\nI sat on the sofa and looked up at him. \"What the hell happened to you?\" He struggled to his feet and hobbled over to the window. The sun shone on his face. Usually he would be illuminated by a dazzling yellow-orange glow, but his unkempt visage didn't give the sun any audience. The magic was gone.\n\n\"We did the song and dance for seventeen god-damn years. And how does it all end? Him getting caught in the line of god-damn fire. Killed by a cop--what kind of way to go is that?\" He glanced at me. \"No offence.\"\n\nI straightened up, disgusted by his self-loathing. He was oblivious. \"You were supposed to be a hero. The people looked up to you 'til the very end, but they didn't understand.\" He turned his whole body towards me, as if he was just fully realizing that I was there. I continued, \"He leveled six city blocks, kidnapped the mayor's daughter, stole innumerable amounts of money, slaughtered innocent civilians--\"\n\n\"And I was there to stop him every time.\"\n\n\"You know damn well that a cell wouldn't hold him. You'd let him break out each and every time. You needed him.\" He sat back down and took another drink; I turned to him. \"You needed him so you could stay relevant. You put this city in the middle of a destructive game of Cat and Mouse between two bored, narcissistic psychopaths!\" He looked down, ashamed. \"You're not a kid anymore, Dick. Maybe it's time to hang up the cape.\"\n\nHe clenched his fist and stumbled to the door. He fumbled with his coat and wiped away a free tear. \"Maybe you're right, Rick.\" He threw the empty bottle away. \"Maybe the hero in me died along time ago.\" He smoothed his hair and straightened his coat out. \"I'll see you around, Rick. Tell Commissioner Martin I might take him up on his offer after all.\" He left and closed the door, with any luck, the last dead hero this city would have to see.", "The phone buzzed in my pocket as I unlocked the door and I ignored it. Probably another TV show who wanted an interview. There had been a couple already. They all wanted to interview me for just doing my job. Just for getting in a few lucky shoot and take down the bastard and take a gang of crazies. Villains where not a word I would use on those people. I remember when it happened I first though I had shot some stupid cosplayers. Then we discovered it was the real deal. \nThey had attacked me and fuck me if I was going to hide and wait for the Hero to show up. I didn’t become a police officer to hide from bad guys. Yeah I know the instruction. If we encounter these guys we are supposed to report in and wait. Let the big guy take care of them. I’m not dying for him to look great in the news. Beside I was not even supposed to be there. I was covering for Johnson shift and why would these guys stand in an abandoned warehouse and argue loudly about how to kill the big guy? \n\nI switched on the light and nothing happened. I tried a few more time and cursed as I used the light of my cell to find the next switch. \n\n‘Don’t bother turning on the light. I removed the fuse’\nI turned towards sound. And there was the big guy sitting in my couch with a bottle of my vodka. I just stared. This was the last thing I expected. ‘What the hell? Why are you hear?’\n\n‘Was it an accident? Or did you kill them? I got to know. ‘\n‘ ehh I was a mixup. I was checking out a break in. I wasn’t even supposed to be on duty. And they saw me. It was me or them I just did what my training told me to. Duck for cover and stay alive.’\n‘But you killed them.. and you killed Him!!’ His seemed to get angry at that. His voice was getting agitated and I think I finally understood why the criminals fear him.\n\n‘Sir! I didn’t.. you know how it is these guys don’t let that stop them they will come back. Maybe it was a stand in?’ I tried to be cheerful but why the hell. I felt my self getting angry. ‘Yeah I killed that psycho. And he deserved it, you should have killed him long time ago. Maybe I would not have to go to so many damn funerals of my colleges! I did by accident what you could not get yourself to do. Make the city safer for everybody. \n\nHe just drank. ‘ Was it quick? Did he die quickly?’\n‘yeah I’m trained to shoot for the head. They all went down quickly, he didn’t even have time to laugh.’ At that he tossed the bottle at wall and started crying. ‘ what now.. what now?’ \nI looked at him surprised and then sighted ‘ Now you go home and sleep. I’m sure there will be other bad guys for you to beat up then.. wait your driving right? ‘\nHe nodded between his sobs and I sighted. ‘ Okey you sleep here tonight. Make yourself conferrable on the couch . ‘ I went to get him a blanket damn I hate Bats. \n", "It never used to be this bad, let me tell ya.\n\nBack in the day, the capes, they all had a code, truth, justice, American way, all of that nonsense. Never thought much of it until it fell by the wayside, but it’s pretty easy to see these days it must’ve meant something. Or hell, maybe this is just where it was always leading and weren’t no one smart enough to turn us right the hell around when it was a thing that could be turned.\n\nNowadays they’re everywhere, and it’s not just the numbers, either. Used to be, they all kept to themselves, had a satellite station orbiting the planet looking down from on high thinking they were better’n your average Joe. Idiots. Course, maybe if they still had a station, or at least if they just had their one big group, there wouldn’t be teams of EMTs sorting through the heaps that used to be buildings down at one of their latest pissing contests.\n\nI don’t know why the hell I’m even thinking about this shit any more, it’s probably that kid, he couldn’t have been older’n twenty, dumb shit. Comes around a corner with a knife in his hand talking to me-some stupid old man just on his way home from the liquor store with a bottle of cheap vodka-about traditions and earning his legacy, some half-cocked ideas about earning his stripes in blood. Couldn’t even say what came over me when he lunged. Maybe it was cause he was dressed up like The Monster-one of the old big bads, one of the biggest bads-and laughing his head off about respect and dues, or shit maybe it was just reflexes.\n\nEither way he went down really fast, for all the fear of seeing someone dressed like The Monster coming at me-Christ did he ever look just like that son of a bitch-he had the fight sense of an excited poodle. Damn waste of good vodka, all over the ground. mixed with this young fool’s blood. Weren’t no one around, so I just got out of there, but I should have known that it wouldn’t be the end. These things never just end.\n\nI swear though, he had that same look in his eyes…\n\nSo there I am, couple of days later, thinknig I’m in the clear, another body found in the street, bit of a story n the news, turns out that really was The Monster’s kid. Hard to imagine a willing woman putting herself out there for that jerk, at least one who survived. Just an old fool kidding himself, there’s no way whoever it was was willing. Not enough vodka to blot that one out.\n\nI hear it even though I’m not supposed to, that small click that let’s you know your lock’s just been picked. Doc says my ears are going but he don’t know shit. Before the door opens I’ve got the bottle flipped around-another bottle? Christ I’m getting an MO going-and ready to bring down on the skull of the dumb punk who thinks he’s going to rob the frail old codger at the end of the street. \n\nI almost do it too, but it’s a lot harder to bring yourself to kill a girl… Especially a crying girl. Especially a crying girl dressed up like Madame Justice. Rookie mistake, I had the drop on her and then I let her see me with the bottle still raised and tackle me. I feel that familiar snap that means something is fractured, judging by the searing pain, that’s my arm made useless right there. I just barely manage to roll on my back in time to see her diving on top of me. If it weren’t for muscle memory I’d already be a dead man, the way she brings that Staff of Justice down, but I can smell the booze on her breath, and I manage to roll my head to the side and bring my legs up for a solid hit from behind she probably wasn’t expecting from an old fart like me. This old fart still has some fight in him, though, and this is my damn house.\n\nSo there I am rolling around with this girl on my floor, looks like she’s about half past puberty, few weeks back I mighta been writing about this in my dream journal or some pansy shit like that. She fast, and when I try to make another solid kick at her she gets out of the way and jabs at my fucked up arm. Smart, someone taught her well. Come to think of it, she does look a lot like Madame Justice…\n\n“Cassie?”\n\nShe stops in her tracks. Hit it on the head, then. Stupid blind old man, of course that’s Cassie. Of course she’d want to take after her mother. If I weren’t so busy trying to duke it out with a kid who shouldn’t even be drinking, I could have put it together in time to stop this silliness before my arm was in dire need of a split.\n\n“How… I mean…”\n\n“Relax girl.” I say, trying to sound like she didn’t knock the crap out of me. Like she wouldn’t have probably had me beat if she didn’t have that brown bottle flu stumble. “How’s your mother doing? I haven’t seen Maggie in years. You neither, for that matter.”\n\nNow she looks proper confused. I used to get off on that kind of shit, making people wonder how in the hell I’d pieced together stuff. Actually, it still feels kinda good. “The last time I saw you you were barely even walking. Why on God’s green earth are you trying to break into my house and crack my skull open, child?”\n\nOh Christ, there go the tears again. Next thing I know she’s sitting on my couch, bawling her little eyes out about how she was applying to one of those new super societies and they told her she had to deal with this kid calling himself ‘The Son of the Monster’ or she would never get accepted into their elitist ranks. Says she found his body, and made a snap decision to take credit for it, with no one around and all, but these days there’s cameras everywhere, and when people look into it, there’s me with my alcoholic surprise. She even laughs a little bit saying The Brotherhood-that’s what these young punks are calling themselves now-were joking that they should take me in instead of her, told her she’d never get a spot.\n\nIt’s making some kind of teenage sense to me now. She goes out, gets a few drinks, can’t tell mommy she didn’t make it into the legion of assholes, has a few more, gets it in her head maybe knocking me off will prove herself to these new cape wannabees. All of it’s stupid, of course, but what do you expect from a kid who doesn’t have any guidance. I do it almost before I know what it is I’m doing and the wall slides back revealing a lot of gear. Never had the cash for a proper lair or nothing, but a slideaway wall was actually pretty reasonable after a few talks with the guy who worked the hardware store at the time. \n\nStupid things really, haven’t looked at them in more’n a decade. Well mostly, things still need dusting and it’s only proper to make sure things still work, time to time. Now Cassie’s eyes light up and she just looks up at me like she broke the arm of the big man himself. “C…..Captain… Hero?” Christ what a stupid name. If I could go back all those years and slap young me in the face for picking it, I damn well would.\n\n“Yeah, once upon a time. Look kid, not for nothing, but if you want, I can… I don’t know, train you? You’ve got some of your mother’s skill for sure, but if you’re going to be a hero proper, and not, I repeat NOT one of those talentless schmoes wouldn’t even make it past the first stage of testing for The Legion, you’re going to need a bit more polishing… and a bit less booze, you smell like you slept in a bus station.”\n\n‘Shut it old man, you’re no good to anyone.’ ‘You don’t know a god damned thing about me you decrepit sack of shit.’ ‘What is a sad old bastard like you going to teach me, you can’t even put on your shoes with that busted up arm of yours!’ I was expecting one of those, not those big doe eyes going up and down as she nodded enthusiastically, saying she’ll come back tomorrow bright and early and all dried out.\n\nNot how I expected today to turn out, but broken arm and all, I’ve had worse days. I just hope I can see the looks on those clowns’ faces when they see what a real hero looks like for the first time. Hell, maybe this’ll even be fun.\n", "there was a man at my door, he told me he was selling newspapers, I told him I was already subscribed to the local paper and went to close the door, he didn't move, told me that I might want to have a look at today's headline, it read: \"Mass Murder, Thousands Dead In Ensuing Rockslide from... Blast Radius... culprit...\" I recognized the man after he lowered the paper. I recognized the culprit. He told me that this was the crown of glory he'd wear to his grave, his greatest work yet, and he laughed. He looked different without the makeup, but he carried that same lifeless grin I saw on the news most nights. He looked different with the knife in his chest. I swear it was only self defense. I'm not the kind of man to kill, I swear it. He fell dead all the same landing grin down on my doorstep. I forgot to close the door. \n\nThe police came and went, cleaned up really well, congratulated me. They were jubilant, I was in shock. I didn't come back to earth until after they'd asked me questions, taken the body and left. \n\nI found him sitting at my table that night. He looked different without the mask, he was hunched under the overhead lamp and he wasn't moving. Just sitting. \n\n\"How did you get in?\" \n\nHe just looked at me. \n\n\"Did he shake your hand?\" \n\nI was confused. \"Did who? Yeah they shook my hand, showered me with all sorts of praise and reassurance, told me I'd get some sort of medal for my service, don't be afraid they said, you've done a good thing.\" \n\n\"you probably expect I'm thankful too.\" \n\n\"I don't want your thanks, you know what it's like to kill a man. I can't get his damn laugh out of my head, I'm telling you I didn't ask for this, the way the knife felt when I...\" \n\nHe pushed the chair back and strode over to me, I felt the weight of his hand, heavy on my shoulder. His breath was rank with booze. \n\n\"I'm only here to congratulate you, you've finally got the better of me, killed the only man with the information I need to stop those bombs from going off in the mountains and killing thousands, I should end you. But you're right, I know what it's like to kill a man. I know the pain you'll feel. All that blood's on your head.\" \n\nOn his way out the door he reached into my mailbox and threw a newspaper at my feet. \n\nI was reeling, but I read through each word of that horrific story and noticed the date, it was tomorrow. It was dated for tomorrow.\n\n\n\n\n", "“Really? No deductible payments required? No out-of-pocket either?” Derek asked with a sense of disbelief. \n\n“No, sir. I see from your file that the police report lists you as the victim, and for whatever reason management has waived your deductibles. We hope that this’ll get back on the road quickly.” The woman he knew only as “Melissa” responded in a cheery voice, so saccharine that Derek felt she knew more about the situation than she let on. Her smile was evident even through the receiver. \n\n“Oh, um, I see. Well, I guess I’ll take my car into the shop tomorrow and get the ball rolling?” \n\n“Yes, sir. In the meantime, we certainly hope you’ll enjoy the loaner car that we had sent out to you. It should be waiting for you at your house.” Derek could hear the whites of Melissa’s teeth shimmer behind every word she spoke.\n\n“Oh! Well thank you.”\n\n“Thank you, sir, from me and the entire Progressive family. Is there anything else I can help you with?”\n\n“N-no, no, that should be it. Thank you, Melissa.”\n\n“Thank you, sir,” Melissa repeated, “and thank you again for choosing Progressive. Have good weekend.”\n\n“Thank you, you too. Goodbye.” Derek hung up the phone and slunk back into the faux-leather cushions of the taxi cab. Things had been moving way too fast, and his head and body were killing him. To top it off, just twelve hours ago he thought he’d be in jail for the rest of his life, or executed. \n********************************* \n\nHis drinking had gotten out of control – much like his car was after trading between whiskey and gin for seven-straight hours that afternoon. On the way home his car began spinning wildly out of control, crossing the center lane of a busy downtown street and through a crosswalk. Suddenly there was a thud, then a sound like a pumpkin being dropped 10 stories, then a chunky and deep maroon caked across his windshield. The car came to a dead stop moments later after it had wrapped itself around a telephone pole, leaving a streak of red, entrails, and body parts in its wake. \n\nPolice arrived on the scene moments later and pulled Derek’s drunken heap out of the heap that remained of his Chevy. Two officers grabbed hold of Derek while two other officers entertained themselves by inspecting the remains of the unlucky bastard that were strewed across the street. “Sergeant!” one of the rookie’s inspecting the victim yelled. “You’d better look at this!”\n\nSergeant Rush strode over to the remains. The victim’s head resembled a watermelon that had been pulverized by Gallagher. Yet even without a face, there was no mistaking who the dead son-of-a-bitch was. Curly amber-waved hair. A 357 Magnum – “CECILIA” inscribed on the butt of the gun. The psycho's calling card: an original pressing of “Bridge Over Troubled Water.” Rush trembled as he leaned down, reached for the victim’s right forearm, and rolled up his sleeve, looking for the final sign that the vic was who Rush thought he was. The tattoo, the singular mark of the city’s most notorious villain, was right where it should be.\n\nArt is Murder. Murder is Art.\n\nThere was no doubt. This drunken fool was able to do what no police officer, no DA, no judge or vigilante could manage over the past decade.\n\nHe had stopped The Garfunkeler.\n****************************\n\n“No charge, sir! It’s you* who should be charging me!” The cabbie smiled at Derek through his cigarette-stained teeth, pushing back the $40 Derek tried to offer him after dropping him off at his house. The cabbie echoed the praise the police officers gave Derek at the hospital after his stomach was pumped.\n\nDerek unlocked his front door. His head was spinning - it was all unreal. He was racked with guilt for the life he had taken, and yet people were treating him like a vigilante Jesus Christ. But there was bound to be one person who would be upset with him. As it turns out, that person was sitting at Derek’s kitchen table, bottle in hand. \n\n“I was wondering when you’d show,” The Simonizer said. “I hope you don’t mind, I helped myself to your whiskey while I waited.” The maroon leather of his full body suit and mask creaked with every movement of his body like the floorboards of Derek’s fixer-upper. The Simonizer looked Derek up and down, sizing Derek up before he kicked the chair opposite from him away from the table. “It looks like you need a drink as well. Sit down.”\n\n“I’m fine.”\n\nThe Simonizer reached into a pocket on his utility belt, and pulled out something shiny that caught the morning sunlight and bounced it about the room. It took Derek’s eyes a moment to adjust before he could make out what it was – Cecilia. The Garfunkeler’s signature gun. \n\n“How the hell-”\n\n“The police are exceedingly generous to us superheroes, giving us access to all levels of the station. Including the evidence locker.” The Simonizer took another shot of whiskey before slamming the bottle on the table. “Besides, not much need for a dead man’s property to sit in an evidence locker when his killer goes free without charge, now is there?” The Simonizer looked Derek deep in the eyes while taking another shot of whiskey. Derek sat down meekly, wondering if the police had released him only to allow The Simonizer to exact revenge on him.\n\n“You’ve had a bad night, Mr. Hoffman. Drunk driving. Car accident. Striking a pedestrian. Why, it’s a miracle that no one IMPORTANT got hurt, now isn’t it?” Was this contempt, praise, or just drunken rage coming from The Simonizer’s mouth?\n\n“Look, The Simonizer--”\n\n“Please, there’s no need to stand on ceremony now, not between us. You can call me Al.” No one knew The Simonizer’s true identity, but his martial art skills were legendary; The Simonizer was known to care not whether the people who felt the blunt end of his signature move – The Boxer – wound up in the hospital or the grave. \n\n“Look, I don’t know why you broke into my house at 7:30am, but I--”\n\n“Sssshhhhhh.” The Simonizer lifted a finger, silencing Derek. “Do you hear that? No police sirens. No calls from the mayor’s office, asking me to stop The Garfunkeler again from reigning terror upon the city. The Garfunkeler’s been dead for six hours, and already the sound of the silence is deafening. “No, instead they’re wondering who you are, whose chest they’re going to pin your fucking medal on!”\n\nThe table between them erupted from The Simonizer’s lightning quick Boxer attack, and exploded into a million shards of cheap balsawood. Before Derek could comprehend it, The Simonizer had him by the scruff of his collar, pressed into the wall as The Simonizer held the bottle of whiskey above Derek’s head. “You son of a bitch! You took him from me! You took him from me!” \n\nJust as quickly, The Simonizer crumpled into a ball on the floor, sobbing over and over, “You took him, you took him away, you bastard….”\n************************************\n\n“Cream or sugar?”\n\n“No thanks, just black. And sorry about the table. Not my finest hour. I’ll pay for the damage.”\n\n“Don’t worry about it.”\n\nThe Simonizer took a long sip of the coffee Derek had brewed during the twenty minutes The Simonizer was curled up on his floor and sobbing. He thought about his next words carefully. “Have you read much Dostoyevsky, Mr. Hoffman?”\n\n“Can’t say that I have.”\n\n“Well I love him. I first read The Brothers Karamazov* when I was sixteen, and it was the first time that a book really opened my mind to the world. I re-read it every few years, just to see if it still speaks to me the same way that it did all those years ago.” The Simonizer put down his coffee and looked Derek deep in the eyes. “There is a line from the book that has always stuck with me. ‘The mystery of human existence lies not in just staying alive, but in finding something to live for.’ \n\n“Stopping The Garfunkeler was that something for me. That is what I lived for.” The Simonizer sighed, took a breath and shook his head. “But that’s all gone now. The city is safe, and my job was never fulfilled. The city doesn't need me. What’s worse, because you took out The Garfunkeler, people are going to think that they don’t need superheroes at all. That everyday citizens can take down the worst supervillains known to man. You, Derek Hoffman, not only killed The Garfunkeler, but you simultaneously signed my own death warrant. With a city at peace, I have no purpose, nothing to define my life. \n\n“The city at peace was my dream. And now that that dream is real, my reality is no more.” The Simonizer walked to the window. The TV stations were parking their trucks on the street, the reporters setting up shop on Derek’s front lawn. “When Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept for there were no more worlds to conquer.”\n\n“Hans Gruber. Die Hard.”\n\n“Too right, Mr. Hoffman, too right. I now have no more worlds to conquer.” He looked back at Derek, a wistful smile traced his lips. The Simonizer looked away and swiftly made for the door. “I’ve kept you too long, Mr. Hoffman. My apologies. If you’ll see from the window, the people want you now. You are their hero, the man who did what I could not. Enjoy your moment while it lasts, Mr. Hoffman, for all glory is fleeting.”\n\nWith a quick turn of the knob The Simonizer stepped into the morning. The press dutifully snapped pictures of The Simonizer emerging from Derek’s house before rushing into the entrance way, trying to get an exclusive with the city’s greatest hero, a hero powered on nothing but distilled grains and a totaled Chevy.\n\nThe Simonizer walked solitarily into the morning, leaving Derek to his new life. \n\n“Well, I guess I could go hunt down the Neil Diamond Gang out in Capitol City now.”", "\"He loved me, did you knew that?\" - Charlie Roberts, most commonlly known as Ice Savior told me between sobs and tequila shots. -\"We where in this together. Alejandro, umm... Tarantulaman knew how I always craved the attention, and how my super powers lasted for the small and unfair of amount of time that they did. \"\n\nI couldn't believe what I was hearing, and Mr. Roberts, with a high stench of tequila coming out of his mouth, kept shouting at me.\n\n\"My powers only lasted from summer of '98 to 2006. I was a legend. I met Alejandro at Hero Camp, when he was still trying to control his muscular hands from all of the web exploding everywhere but the target. It was love at first sight. And as quick as our love grew, my powers disappeared. I blamed this all on him, on my poor, sweet Alejandro. I knew the coldness from my heart had melted, and I wasn't able to do the things I did before, not on the same intensity. So we came up with a plan...\"\n\nHe stopped talking as another round of shots came for him, he shared none with me, of course. He grabbed the two shots and the glass quickly became tarnished with cold. \"Fuck.\"- he whispered as the cheap tequila passed through his throat. His eyes became more red by the second. My silent indicated he could continue talking, not that a man like him needed my permission. \n\n\"We would set up all these spider web traps created by him. There where zero deaths in our city, and you all thought they where thanks to me, when all of this time, a possibility of death never existed. Alejandro did all of this because he loved me. He ended with his reputation, friends and family, just to make me taste my glory days again. But you knew nothing of this, didn't you...you spoiled little brat.\"\n\nI wanted to smile, but knew it would become too dangerous to get Ice Savior more mad in a moment like this. Somehow my silence always managed to get more words out of his mouth.\n\n\"He wasn't capable of killing, but I am. But I'm not going to kill you kid, because I know better than no one how it feels to linger with all of your soul that feeling of glory, to be recognized, to do the right thing; And your fate is worse than death, because your going to have to live with yourself, and the thought of knowing you killed someone who simply loved too much.\"\n\nA 167 dollar tab, followed by a shot of tequila came my way. The waitress had over heard everything, and knew I needed a drink that night too. As Ice Savior shut the door, all of the floor including the door became frozen.\n\nI finally smiled. I had frozen his heart again; I had returned Ice Savior, my favorite hero, back to life. ", "After the medal ceremony, there was the reception. Then there was the receiving of the key to the city. Then there was the handshakes, and the baby-forehead-kissing, and the speeches. And then I went home, 72 hours after accidentally feeding The Destructonaut peanut butter French toast instead of chocolate at the Denny's where I work. \n\nAs I open the door to my apartment, I'm met with a scene that would make even a frat boy want to pick up a Swiffer. I can only describe the smell as the combination of months-old Chinese takeout, stripper piss, and desperation. And booze. A lot of booze.\n\n\"Y-y-you stupid bastard.\" I recognized the voice -- I had heard it deliver a speech a few hours after The Destructonaut's demise. Though, honestly, that voice sounded a hell of a lot more heroic than this one. \n\n\"Captain Construction? Sir, what's going on?\" I tiptoe over the dozens of broken bottles to get a closer look at the pride and joy of Middleville. \nHe’s flopped on the couch, with his fluorescent cape crumpled up on the carpet and his arms and legs splayed out around him like a starfish. A drunk, muscular, starfish with impeccable bone structure and the BAC of Aunt Helen after a particularly crazy night at her book club. His bright yellow Lycra costume is stained with things I don't want to know about.\n\n\"Y-y-you dumb stupid p-p-prick.\" He flops his hand in a half-hearted gesture, and the bottles by the couch construct themselves into a remarkably unstable wall in front of me. \n\n“What are you talking about? I don’t understand. Is this about The Destructonaut?” The bottles crash to the floor. \n\n“Of course it’s about the Gestaponot you, you, you fuckin’ idiot. You killed him. You killed him!” He reaches for the extra-large bottle of Everclear I keep around for cleaning and takes a swig. \n\n“What the hell do I do now? I don’t have nothing to do here anymore.” He’s started to sob again. I start to back away, but he lunges for my arm and pulls me onto the couch with him. \n\n“Lemme… lemme tell you a s-s-story.” He hiccups. “Me and the, the Destuforgot went way back. Waaaaay. Back.” He flings his arm through the air as he talks. I duck.\n\n“And even though the Erectoflop was, like, you know, a baaad baaad dude, you know? He and I were buddies! We knew how it was, you know?” I nod my head, more out of fear than compassion. He starts to pet my head.\n\n“And now that he's dead, I ain’t got nothing to do around here! I don’t have a fuckin’ day job, you know. I’m a hic superhero!\" He angrily brandishes the bottle in his hand as he talks.\n\n\"A-a-and then you had to go and fuck up the gig the Seductobot and I had!” He’s crushed the now-empty bottle of Everclear and is looking at at me with eyes that would have been more at home on a jaguar. I start to back away as he gains on me -- while I’m tripping on the glass on the floor he stomps on it like nothing can hurt him. Which, I guess, is true. It’s hard to believe a guy’s invincible when he’s on the verge of vomiting. \n\n“Hey, hey, hey, man. Calm down! We’ll figure something out. It’s gonna be okay.” Suddenly, his gaze softens and he stops advancing. \n\n“R-r-really?” He puts down the bottle. “Are you sure?” More hiccups and crying.\n\n“Yeah, buddy. Now why don’t you get some rest and I’ll start cleaning this up, okay?”\n\n“Okay.” he whimpers. I lead him back to the couch, dust off the pizza crusts from the cushions, and throw his dirty cape into the hamper on the way to my bed. \n\nIt’s been a long day.", "The Amazon had fake tits. Fake tits and a lot of makeup. For some reason that always made me a bit suspicious. All they did was get in the way. What kind of superheroine would do that to herself?\n\n\nAnd here she was, clad in sweat-pants and an old t-shirt, sitting on my couch, eyeliner dribbling down her cheeks, hands clutching around the bottle of vodka I normally kept in the freezer.\n\n\nJesus.\n\n\nI stared at her as I put down my groceries. I had a gun, but it was on the counter in the kitchen; I'd left it out for cleaning. Not that there was much point in grabbing it, given she was a superhero. “Can I help you, ma'am?”\n\n\n“You,” she said, “you ruined everything.” She hiccupped. “You k-killed him.”\n\n\n“Ma'am, I'm a police officer. It was a bank robbery. He had hostages.” The world was better off without him. Asshole had killed about a dozen people already, and the few times we'd managed to catch him and convict him, he'd broken out. We still didn't know how.\n\n\n“Fuck you. You w-weren't supposed to kill him. It was a game.” Angrily, I bit my tongue. People had died because of him. “He robbed banks with his deathray. He runs off, I chase him. And then...”\n\n\nAnd then she'd catch him. The money would usually be missing by that point – probably already back at his lair. The bank would suffer a while. The Mad Millionaire and his death ray would escape custody after a while, if she even bothered bringing him to the police.\n\n\n“Then we'd split the cash,” the Amazon said.\n\n\nI stopped putting away my groceries and stared at her.\n\n\n“You heard me,” she said. “Fuck you. It was a game. Fuck you. I'd play chase, toss him in jail, secretly break him out of custody one night a week later. Fuck you. We'd fuck like rabbits after a big heist, sometimes even before I handed him over to you. Fuck you. Fuck you!”\n\n\nMy gun was on the counter in the kitchen. I backed away from her, wide-eyed. She kept advancing. She was crying again, big, fat alligator tears. Her hands were clenched. Shit. Was she one of the invulnerable superheroes? I couldn't remember. Oh, god. Oh, god.\n\n“You idiot cops never should've been involved,” she said. “No one would've ever died. No one would've stood up to him, never got shot. Y' drove him to those killing sprees. You. You are the asshole. You are the villain, and I, I am the good guy.”\n\n\nMy lower back knocked into the kitchen counter. I reached behind myself and grabbed my gun. " ]	12
	[WP] A man wakes up on the day of a very important job interview with a penis drawn on his forehead. He can't get it off and is forced to meet his very professional employer with it on. He lands the job.	[ "Oh god I am so screwed. When I get back to the apartment I am going to kill Jaime for doing this shit to me. No matter what I did, I couldn't get it off. No matter what that bastard claimed about what happened the night before, I was going to drill a hole in his head and skullfuck him until he died.\n\nI looked up at the building. Funny, I was so confident the day before and now the building looked like an imposing monster ready to swallow me whole. Cursing under my breath, I walked in to get this interview over with. I got past the front desk without a problem- they were too busy with calls that they asked and confirmed my appointment without even looking. This would make things all the worse. Some of the other people in the waiting room have already noticed, destroying the hope that it wasn't visible.\n\nI entered the office. It was devoid of personnel. Suddenly, a voice from the one large chair that faced away from me and toward the window said otherwise.\n\n\"Mister O'Brien. Thank you for coming.\" Once again, my hopes were shattered as he swiveled around and took a big glance at the giant dong on my head. Without batting an eye, he launched right into the interview. Without thinking, my weeks of training kicked in and I handled every question like a pro. The interviewer seemed pleased with me, and confirmed it when he congratulated me. We confirmed that I started next Monday, and I was beside myself with excitement. \n\nI stood to leave, the question of how this incriminating swinger didn't destroy my chances still lingering in my head. Suddenly, the interviewer stood up from his desk, crossing over with a faint smile.\n\n\"I didn't know you were part of the Pen 15 club too.\" He said.\n\nThe what?\n\n\"I don't know about you but that location choice for your club insignia is a bit strange. You're lucky I was interviewing you, the other guy would have thrown you out on the spot.\" He pulled up the bottom of his white collared-shirt to reveal a similar black shlong right under his ribs. He smiled knowingly, before ushering me back out the door.\n\nSuddenly, what Jaime was going on about the night before started making sense. I hate booze.", "The HR rep ushered me into his office, barely glancing up from his computer screen. \n\nGood morning, Mr. Gibson. Thank you for coming in on such short notice. Did you have any trouble with the security gate? I told them there would be a new applicant coming in but you never know if they... uh... \n \nAs his gaze slowly lifted, he saw it, the giant dick my wonderful roommate Steve painted on my forehead the night before with what must have been God's own Sharpie. \n \nYou never know if those security guards will remember... when... they... \n \nThe HR guy didn't know what to think. His eyes darted around the room, as if to look for hidden cameras from some TV show that must be playing a prank on him. I couldn't blame him. I bit my lip and swallowed hard. I needed the money, and this job was perfect for me. Here goes nothing. \n \n\"I see you've noticed my birthmark.\" \nYour what? I... what birthmark? \n\"The thing on my forehead that looks like a cartoon penis. Listen, don't feel bad for staring. I'm used to it. And don't think you're hurting my feelings. Middle School and High School made pretty much immune to anything you could say about it.\" \nWait, you're telling me you were born with that? \n\"Yes\" \nAnd what about the text on the side that says 'Frank loves the cock'? \n\"Yup. The doctors said it's incredibly rare to have such intricate shapes in birthmarks, but it's possible. Some babies got a spot-on copy of the Mona Lisa on their butt cheeks, I got this little beauty on my forehead.\" \nAnd your parents still named you Frank? \n\"Yeah. They thought it was... a sign.\" \nWell, that's um... that's kind of a bummer. Well, let's get on with the interview. \n \nSo we did, and I got the job. Of course I did. I was perfect for it. It was the exact sort of thing I needed to get me out of debt and into the sort of career I really wanted. But man, it sure is gonna suck having to redraw this damn thing on my forehead every morning. Fucking Steve..." ]	2
	[WP] You realize one evening that the moon is missing. You don't know how long it's been missing, and no one else seems to have realized it yet either. Astronomers were keeping the disappearance on the down-low - until now.	[ "I hate Neon City.\n\nNot only are the lights too bright, the upper bridge in every street has you surrounded by light on all sides. Those pads you wear on your eyes when you sleep, Neon City doesn't survive without those. Even worse, no one is allowed to leave the city. Well, almost no one.\n\nYou see, Neon City is huge. We shifted the entirety of the world's population here after the plague. Everyone lives here. Well, almost every one, the WSRC [World Space Research Council] has an observatory in a hill nearby. The scientists who work there are the only people allowed out. And the Overlord. He makes the rules, and he's the only one who can break the rules.\n\nEnough chitchat.\n\nApparently we're supposed to use the upper bridges for high speed transport only. This causes many accidents along the bridges, and especially the corner turns at the city's very edges, the very edges of some people's life.\n\nThe corners are very weak now after collisions to the wall, and the Overlord just doesn't care. And I was the first victim of this.\n\nMy car lost traction after I forgot to change my worn out tires. I skidded off and my BBW Roadster hit the wall at 200 kmph, shattering the wall. My car fell out the bridge. Out of the city. Into grassland.\n\nI'd heard of grassland and read about it in school. This was the first time I'd seen it for real. Dazed, I walked out and looked around me. There weren't any walls, except for the perimeter of Neon City, extending towards my front and towards my left. I took some time to adjust to the darkness, and saw the hill. I was about to walk that way, when I heard police sirens.\n\nShit. \n\nYou see, anyone who leaves the City without authorization is killed. No trial occurs, just murder. I ran away from the sirens and found a rock formation. I hid there as a drone scanned the area for my presence. \n\nI waited until the police sirens died down. This could be a decoy. I decided to wait some more. \n\nAfter about half an hour I walked out. Something looked strange. The sky was dark. This was again something I'd only read about in school.\n\nAre those stars? Is that the Milky Way?\n\nI kept looking around. It wasn't a new moon night. I had my star charts that I used to track shipments from other planets, this was generally a full moon night. \n\nWhere is the moon?\n\nI realized I said that aloud and was scared. Maybe there was an undercover drone. Maybe..\n\nA voice cut me off. \"There is no moon, kid.\"\n\nI turned around. A man wearing a T-shirt and shorts looked at me, gun in his hand. Shit, undercover cop.\n\nI raised my hands. \"It was an accident. I.. I..\"\n\n\"Follow me.\"\n\nI walked with him for what seemed like 45 minutes, but was just 15. He tapped the ground and an underground cabin opened its trapdoor to us. \"Walk in.\"\n\nI descended the stairs. It seemed like a labyrinth, but this guy knew exactly where to turn and what to do, and so I followed him.\n\nHe had a lab. A huge lab. It was filled with computers and other advanced tech.\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\n\"I'm Nexus. I'm here to free you people from Neon City, once and for all.\"\n\n\"So why this lab?\"\n\n\"Apparently your Overlord has fucked things up to a great extent. First, he agrees for a trade union with those savages, those Titanians. Next, he becomes their pawn.\"\n\n\"I don't get you.\"\n\n\"You see, the Titanians want complete control over the solar system. they're destroying everything that comes in their path. They destroyed the moon.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"It was the first heavenly body we conquered. There's a lot of ego going on. They want to take out Mars next. Heck, they started the plague, FYI.\"\n\n\"I don't believe you.\"\n\n\"I was hoping you'd say that.\"\n\nHe showed me a video. The Titanian King was signing orders to destroy planets. Titanian and WSRC spaceships dropped fusion bombs into the moon. My head swiveled. I'd just bought a Titanian phone, but I had left it in my house.\n\n\"They have complete control over our communication. I built these by my hands and use a frequency they don't monitor. The people need to know.\"\n\n\"How?\"\n\n\"I hacked your communication devices. Pretty soon, every single screen, from mobile to tablet to computer to TV to billboard, will display this.\" He smiled and pressed a button.\n\n\"Wh..who are you?\"\n\n\"Me, I'm Nexus.\"\n\nWith that, he vanished into thin air.\n\nThe next day, everyone was outside the City, lamenting the loss of the moon.\n\n" ]	1
	[WP] American Civil War 2. Write as a soldier that is explaining how you chose the side you are on to your squad.	[ "Alisa secured her gun over her shoulder, making sure to keep as quiet as she could as they crossed enemy territory. The area was metropolitan, dirty and destroyed. Graffiti covered the sides of every building. Pounds of trash lay within the streets, unmoving. It was hot. She'd been sweating all day, and the weight of her equipment did not help. How did she end up in this situation?\n\n\"Hey, Eileen,\" she whispered to her fellow soldier, ducking down within the alley and peeking around the side of the run-down liquor store. Seeing no one, she sat and relaxed, breathing out a long sigh of relief. \"Isn't it strange how fifty years ago one would never expect females to be included in the draft?\"\n\nEileen, dark-skinned and tall, contrasted greatly against the pale-skinned shortness of Alisa. \"I think it would seem just as strange that the draft went back into use in the first place.\"\n\n\"I guess if you considered the situation, it wouldn't be that hard to believe,\" Alisa admitted.\n\nThere was silence. The heat seemed to keep things quiet. For now. Finally Eileen spoke, \"We had a choice, Alisa, of which side we chose to fight for. I guess that counts for something, doesn't it?\" she chuckled bitterly. \n\n\"It was a hard choice,\" Alisa stated sympathetically. \"It's our own country we're fighting. United States of America, things have definitely gone down the drain.\" \n\nEileen chuckled once more. \"With the direction the economy was going, I'm sure most were prepared for this.\" It was a hard truth to swallow.\n\n\"Still, a war between the rich and the poor? The poorest were relocated to the southern half of the country after Russia bombed Texas, while the rich claimed the north. And with all of the money, the rich have the upper hand. The unfairness is obvious.\"\n\n\"And? You and I, Alisa, we chose the side of the rich. Even though our brother and sisters live down here, here we are fighting against them. Killing them. Why?\"\n\nAlisa struggled with her next words, wiping sweat from her neck. \"Why? Because it's inevitable. Fight for the rich, live. Fight for the poor, die honorably. Apparently, honor wasn't enough for most of us, and in a fit of panic this was the side we chose. I'll spend the rest of my life preparing for the fiery depths of Hell.\"", "The trench reeked. The floor was covered in an inch of stagnant water. His boots hadn't been dry in a week. Jeb lay prone under the fire, bleeding from a bullet that was buried in his shoulder.\n\nThe second civil war. That's what the recruiter had called it. Jeb knew he would enlist the day he turned eighteen. Those savages on the other side needed to be put right. They needed to learn the fear of God. \n\nIgnoring the searing agony in his shoulder, Jeb took his rifle and crawled through the muck. He pushed himself up with his good arm, then scraped the mud from his barrel. He scanned the line for one of the dirty 'cakers'.\n\nThe nerve of those psychos. They spit on the very fundamentals of liberty. The 2024 election had been divisive enough, but the new president had the nerve to serve cake at the innaguration. Cake! The saying isn't 'as American as apple 'cake'! It's Pie! Always pie.\n\n\"I hope you like your cake with a side of eternal damnation\" he muttered as he exhaled and slowly squeezed the trigger. One less cake-eater treading on liberty in the world.\n\n---------------\nSent from mobile app, apologize for spelling/formatting" ]	2
	[WP] Your houseplants complain loudly every time you try to prune them.	[ "\"Ahh here we go.\"\n\nI grit my teeth and raise the clippers.\n\n\"Big man over here, with the choppers. C'mon! This guy.\" I lower my green handled pruning clippers once more and stare at the ficus. It sits unassumingly, my AC giving a slight rustle to the glossy leaves. Lifting my hand once more, I take hold of a branch.\n\n\"Ya know what? Go ahead, I'm tired of arguing with you, ya meat bag. I say it again and again; I know what's best for my body. But do ya listen? Nah! Ya just stomp over here with your big dumb feet and yank off my sexy foliage. Ya pig.\"\n\nI squeeze the handles, letting the first leaf drop.\n\n\"Yeh bastard!\"", "\"NOOOOO!\" it yelled, writhing away from the shears.\n\n\"Listen, this is for your own good. Just hold still, it'll be over soon,\" I grumbled as I snipped nothing but air.\n\n\"But my little LEAFIES!\" the plant shook, rattling its \"leafies.\"\n\nFinally I snagged a couple leaves and cut them clean off.\n\n\"EEEP!\" shrieked the plant.\n\n\"What a pansy,\" I muttered.", "I hate Fridays. Everyone else loves Fridays. \"TGIF, am I right?\" they joke. \"Weekend! Woo!\" they shout joyfully. But I dread Fridays. Why do I dread Fridays, you ask? It's very simple: Friday is the day that I prune my houseplants.\n\nI know, I know. That seems like the absolute worst reason to dread Fridays. But you don't understand. I don't have normal houseplants. Everyone else has houseplants that just sit there and...plant. But not me. Oh no. I got the weird ones. I got ones that talk.\n\nI can practically hear your eyebrows raising right now. I know what you're thinking. \"But, that would be awesome! How cool would it be to know what your plants think? To hear them talk about their lives! Granted, their lives are probably pretty boring, but still! How cool would that be!\" And you know what? I thought that too, at first.\n\nThe first time my azalea talked to me I about crapped myself. There I was, watering my new plant, thinking about how I'd picked the best location for it. It was on a north-facing ledge in my living room so it got nice sunlight, but not too bright. I had begun misting the leaves when I heard it. A quiet, shy \"Thank you!\" I had looked around the room, wondering if I had left the TV on or something. Then I heard it again. \"Down here!\" It was coming from the plant.\n\nI was pretty sure I was insane. I mean, who else has a talking houseplant, for God's sake?!? But then I kept hearing it every time I watered the damn thing. Finally I decided to find out if it was really the plant. So one day, after it thanked me for watering it, I did it. I said, \"You-you're welcome.\"\n\n\"Oh! You CAN hear me! I thought I wasn't talking loud enough!\" The voice was bright and cheerful, feminine though with a definite...woodsy?... sound.\n\nMy head swam. \"Are you really talking to me?\" My question came out hoarse and barely understandable. The leaves of the azalea shook as a chuckle sounded from it.\n\n\"Of course I am! All plants can talk, silly. Most people just can't hear us!\"\n\nAfter I got over the shock of talking to a plant we got along quite nicely. I learned a lot about the biology of plants, and thanks to it's advice about when it needed more or less sun, the flowers on the azalea bloomed more often and in larger quantities than a normal indoor azalea ever would.\n\nFor a time, we were happy. Then one day the plant asked for a companion. You see, even plants get bored, and with me at work most of the time the azalea wanted a friend or two. That made sense to me so I bought another azalea, an aloe vera plant, a peperomia, and a philodendron. It amazed me at first at how different their personalities were. The azaleas were both cheerful, talkative plants. The aloe vera was kind and comforting. The peperomia was bossy and overbearing, and the philodendron was loud and boisterous. Overall I had quite the group of personalities in my home and it was fun to come home and listen to them all. I began collecting more and more plants, filling my house with their greenery and chatter. Soon I had plants on almost every surface and in every window. It was great, for a time.\n\nAnd then it began. Their leaves began to droop a bit. I wasn't watering them too much, and they were all getting just the right amount of sun and temperature. I turned to Google and did some research. Everything I read said that the plants needed to be pruned at certain times of the year. The plants that I had all needed pruning at various times of the year and I soon realized that I would be pruning pretty much every week of the year in order to keep all of them healthy.\n\nI honestly didn't think it would be a problem. I mean, I get haircuts every six weeks or so and they don't hurt. I figured it would be the same for the plants. A quick haircut, and then they would stop drooping and look healthy again.\n\nYeah, no. It turns out pruning a plant is a lot more like cutting off their fingertips than a haircut. Oh God, the screaming. The first time I pruned a plant none of them knew what was happening. They had been relatively young plants and hadn't been pruned before. Oh God. I can still hear it. I decided to prune my first azalea that first week. She seemed intrigued by the idea...at least until I cut the first branch. She screamed bloody murder, hollering at me to stop and crying, calling me terrible names.\n\nThen the other plants joined in. They were furious at me. They were all yelling and screaming, a great cacophony of noise. I was shouting at them to stop, pleading for them to understand that I had to do this or she would die. But they wouldn't listen. My hands were shaking so badly I trimmed her a little too short in one area, which meant it took a lot longer for it to grow back right there. I still hear complaints about that.\n\nAnd so it continues. Every Friday I have to prune another plant. Every Friday I listen to them scream and yell, crying out in anguish as I cut pieces of them off into the trashcan. And then I get the silent treatment for two days. Actually, I've begun to prefer that time. It's so quiet and peaceful. I almost forget that I have deranged talking plants for a bit. And then, suddenly, it's like they completely forget why they're made at me and begin talking about like nothing's wrong. And then Friday comes, and the cycle begins again.\n\nI suppose I should give them away. Give them to someone who won't hear them, won't have to listen to their pain. But then I think about the days when I don't have anyone to talk to except the plants. And I think about how they've helped me be more social at work. I even managed to get a date last week thanks to the azaleas' advice on chit chat. I guess this is just my lot in life.\n\nI still hate Fridays." ]	3
What does he do?	[WP] A man wakes up one morning and finds his heart replaced by a bomb. The timer is set to 24 hours.	[ "For nearly an hour, Luke had sat on the plain wooden chair at his dining table, his face a pale and expressionless mask of shock. His left hand, a white band circling his ring-finger, lay flat on the table; his right was still pressed hard against his chest. He could feel the strange vibration of the contrivance in his chest, half-protruding from his raw flesh. \n\nEvery so often, his fingers moved slightly, exploring nervously until he froze in terror once more.\n\nWhen he woke in his bedroom, Luke had risen ready to face another regular day. And yet, here he was, a few minutes later, his world shredded, his mind, not reeling but eerily calm. \n\nA bomb. He had removed his pyjama shirt in the bathroom, the room filling with steam from the hot shower, and as he turned to test the water, he had seen it. The strange dark shape had caught his eye in the mirror and turning, he had raised his hand to touch as his brain slowly assessed the situation.\n\nNo heart, but a bomb in its place in his chest. Neatly stitched into his chest, his skin inflamed at those places where it fused with steel, the bomb was a thing of chrome and wires and tubes and burning red numerals. When he had first seen the thing, those numbers indicated twenty-four hours until detonation. Now, he was down to about twenty-three. \n\nLuke rose finally, pulled the refrigerator door open with a jerk and snatched a can of bourbon from the top shelf, the sticky fizzy stuff spurting onto his fingers as he pulled back the tab and took a long pull of the sweet cola mix. He finished the can and reached for another. On second thought, he grabbed the rest of the six-pack and slammed the door, cradling the alcohol in his arm. He winced as the cardboard carton jarred the contraption fixed in his chest.\n\nA bomb. He couldn’t fathom it. Who would do this to him, and why? Where was his family, and were they safe or suffering some similar strange fate? He drained a second can, tossing the empty into the sink behind him. He wondered, as he cracked the third bourbon, would someone call and explain matters? Could this be some ransom situation? \n\nHe paced, pausing momentarily to turn on the stereo and turn the music up loud. The silence was unbearable. In the silence he could hear the faint whirring and ticking of the thing wired into his body.\n\nHours passed, and Luke remained in his kitchen, pacing, drinking. The telephone did not ring. There was no knock at his front door. He drank each can of bourbon and what dregs he found in each bottle in the pantry. Vodka, rum, tequila, it did not matter. \n\nHe could feel the alcohol in his veins, and his pacing was frenetic now, his pace meeting the frantic tempo of the metal music that played on the stereo.\n\nHow long could he stay in this room, he wondered, and pretend the situation might improve? What could he do to avert this disaster? Luke’s pace slowed as a new thought occurred to him. What could he possibly do to make the most of this bizarre twist of fate?\n\nSudden images flooded his mind, memories of those who had cheated him, memories of the those who had been cruel to him, lied to him, stolen from him. It had taken him years to get clean and stay clean. It had taken so much therapy to erase the damage his father had inflicted. If Luke had had a heart in his chest, it would have been hammering in his newfound excitement.\n\nHe glanced at the display, the red glowing numbers now a blazing promise rather than dire warning. Long enough to walk, he decided. He shrugged on his coat and buttoned it up, his hands shaking. \n\nHe opened his front door, blinking in the sudden blinding light of the perfect January day. For a moment he simply stood on the front step, listening to the birds that chittered in the leopard tree in his garden. Tiny butterflies flitted about the flowers his wife grew and the children picked without permission. Luke smiled, his lips dry and cracking. \n\nSlipping his hands into his deep pockets, Luke set off with the same gentle smile playing on his face, to any onlooker, a regular guy going for a stroll in the lovely weather. Luke knew better. His heart was now set on destruction. \n" ]	1
	[WP] A teacher walks into his class only to find that someone had drawn an offensive cartoon of him on the board. There are 15 students in the class. Write how the teacher catches the culprit in the form of a whodunit.	[ "\"Someone,\" boomed out Mr Corcoran, \"Appears to have draw a picture on my whiteboard. While the artwork is, admittedly, impressively detailed, I am afraid I appreciate neither the stink lines nor the implication that my ties are stupid. My ties are awesome, you just don't appreciate them.\" \nHe looked around the class as a few nervous titters broke out. The ties were, of course, dreadful, which was why he wore them - a bad tie made you seem friendly, in the same way as a good would make you seem powerful, and if he wanted to find the culprit, he needed them to think he'd was friendly. \nHe scanned the room, looking for the telltale signs - red faces, not being able to make eye contact, looking around furtively, but saw none of it. \nThese kids were good. \n\"Would anyone care to point out the culprit?\" \nSilence. \n\"That's fair enough, nobody likes a narc. Would anybody care to own up, then?\" \nMore silence. Not exactly a surprise. Time to try reasoning, then. \n\"Look. We all know that you guys were the first in here this morning. It wasn't here when I left last night, and the cleaners don't come round on a Tuesday, so one of you must have put it here.\" \nA hand raised into the air. Finally, now he was getting somewhere! \n\"Uh, Sir? I, uh, I was the first one in, and it was already here then.\" \nHeads nodded in agreement. Working together to maintain the lie. While he did try to teach the value of teamwork, he would have rathered they used it for more constructive purposes. \nThe hand went up again. \n\"Uh, Sir? Are you, uh, sure no one else was in here this morning?\" \n\"Quite sure, Tom, only the English teachers have access to these rooms, and none of them would be so immature as to draw this.\" \nHe paused a second, and considered what he had just said. \n\"It seems you may have been telling the truth after all. I'll be back in 5 minutes, try not to disturb any of the other classes while I'm gone.\"\n\nTrue to his word, 5 minutes later, Mr Corcoran was back, with Miss Pritchard, the Art teacher, in tow. He gestured at the board.\n\"Miss Pritchard, I don't suppose you'd know anything about this picture, would you?\" \nMiss Pritchard suddenly seemed to become very interested in the ceiling and turned bright red, but to her credit, managed an entirely unconvincing \"...No?\" \n\"I seem to remember your brother had to use my keys this morning to get into his classroom, something about you having borrowed his keys, I don't suppose it could be connected to that, could it?\" \nHer attention shifted to the floor, and she managed another \"Noo...\" \n\"I don't smell.\" \n\"I'd never dream of implying you do, Mr Corcoran.\" \n\"And my ties aren't stupid.\" \n\"Why, who would ever dare to say that?\" \nA smile was now playing around her lips, and the children were suppressing laughter. Mr Corcoran sighed heavily.\n\"I'll get you back for this, you know.\" \n\"I'm sure you will, Dear.\" Miss Pritchard said over her shoulder as she started walking towards the door. \n\"My revenge will be swift and merciless!\" \nThrough the open door echoed a \"That's nice\" from down the corridor. \nMr Corcoran turned back towards the class, hands on his hips, and managed to only inwardly sigh when he saw Tom's hand raised again. \n\"Yes?\" \n\"Uh, Sir? Did she, uh, call you, uh, dear?\"\n\n\n\n\"...No?\"\n\n\nEdited: for spacing.", "Professor MacAfee walks into the room ready for another miserable day. He does his usual balancing act with his cane, his bag, and his coffee and as usual, the class is dead silent. He pulls out his attendance book and folder of work. He decides to hand out the work as he calls names so that he wouldn’t have to travel to each desk. As he gets up to the podium he turns to the board to write the date; one thing that he would not tolerate was lazy students who “forget” to write the date on their papers. MacAfee feels his blood pressure rise as he turns around. Then he sees it. \n\nThere is a caricature on the board of him looking like a geriatric old man. His teeth are drawn out of proportion and the character is lying on the floor with a conversation bubble which states: “Help, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!” He slams his hand against the board and smears the drawing. “Who drew this?” he asks quietly. He looks back at the class who is just staring forward. “WHO DREW THIS!” He shouts. They still don’t stir so he swipes his attendance book off the counter and then says, “Fine! We’ll do this the hard way young un’s!” \nHe looks around at all the faces, “ALRIGHT! Aaron Arnolds, What’s your game?” Aaron stares back fearfully after being put on the spot. “I didn’t do it Professor MacAfee.” He says in a calm tone looking MacAfee in the eyes. MacAfee responds, “Of course not, but we are going in alphabetical order. I saw you walking right ahead of me in the hallway. Of course you still didn’t open the door for me. Thank god you wear the same sweater every day or you might just not be as lucky to be off the chopping block.” Some kids snicker but MacAfee hits the podium with his fist to silence the room. MacAfee looks down the list and at his pupils hoping for a next clue. “AHA!” He yells in excitement pointing to Charlie Garvey. Charlie looks up wide eyed. “Me?” He asks pointing at himself hoping that his teacher was mistaken. “What are you an idiot? Of course not!” MacAfee yells as he walks to Charlie’s desk. Charlie had big green eyes and looked like he was going to faint from embarrassment. MacAfee pulled Charlie’s shirt collar. It had a big red lipstick stain. MacAfee rubs stain and it smears further. “Judging by the quality of this lovely drawing, the artist needed a decent chunk of time to put in this effort. The stain on your collar is still wet and unless you were smacking lips with someone in this classroom, I doubt you had time to make this drawing.” MacAfee deducts. Charlie interjects, “I have a girlfriend! I swear I would never kiss any of these girls!” The snickering recommences and MacAfee hollers, “SHUT UP!” and tells Charlie he could sit down. \n\nMacAfee looks at the students sitting around Charlie and then moves on to his next victim. “EDGAR BASSETT!” he roars looking at the jock to his left. Edgar had short brown hair and was well built. Not the most exemplary student, but one hell of a batter on the school’s baseball team. Edgar smiles; he was ready for confrontation. MacAfee knew who he could push and was ready to walk the line. “Your shoes are dirty!” he yells hitting his cane against the desk. All the students turn around and look at Edgar’s shoes. They are caked with dirt from the field. “If you had made the drawing, there would be mud all over the floor. Seeing as there’s not. You’re clear.” MacAfee looks around the room and sees a few students studying in the corner. He makes his way to their desks. It was Paula, Amelia, Yuri, and Ike. “What’re you all doing?” he asked dubiously. Amelia explains, “We have a huge test today in AP History. We were all studying this morning.” MacAfee takes the study cards off of each of their desks. Their reasoning was legit. “You’re clear.” MacAfee says walking to the other end of the room. He looks over to the twins; Francesca and David Childs. They were shy and mostly stayed to themselves. The longest conversation he had had with them was over their handwriting. Francesca wrote extraordinarily small and David only wrote in cursive. “Francis! Davy! I’ve been begging you the whole year to write like a normal human being! If this was your doing I would assume that you’d do it together. Looking at the cohesiveness of this portrait and the same style throughout, There is only one artist. That being said, you are both clear.” MacAfee takes a deep breath; he could smell that he was getting closer.\n\n He glances around again; his next victim: Isabella Robinson. Right now she had her head face down on the desk. “BELLA! Wake up! We’ve got an artist on the run!” MacAfee cries. Bella looks up with a face as pale as snow. “I’m sorry Mr. MacAfee. I’m sick.” She utters weakly. Cassandra, her best friend jumps to her defense, “She’s telling the truth Mr. MacAfee! Ever since she came in this morning, her head’s been down on the desk!” MacAfee eyes both girls and clears Bella; she was too ill to stand up for that long and commit the crime. After writing a pass to the nurse’s office, he turns his attention to Cassandra and begins to interrogate, “What were you doing this morning Miss. Burns?” She replies, “I was just drawing in my notebook Sir.” MacAfee grabs her notebook off the desk, “What an artist Miss. Burns!” “Thank you” she replies meekly. He flips through the pages; she drew animals well and people like anime. She was especially good at lettering. The caricature was much more realistic than the drawing style that Cassandra specialized in and the letters were written sloppily without the attention to detail which could be found on any page of Cassandra’s notebook. “You’re clear Miss. Burns” he says after explaining his reasoning aloud. \n\nAs he finishes his sentence he hears a pencil fall across the room. He looks over it either belongs to Johnnie Jones or Louis Rackets: Next victims found. “Louie! Johnnie!” He shouts as he makes his way over. He looks at their attire; they both dress sloppily and aren’t ideal students. They look at him with the same wide eyes as when they asked him for extra credit last week. “Boys! Why should I believe you?” MacAfee asks. They look at each other and then Louie takes out an army of paper people from his desk. “I’ve been creating these guys all morning.” He says offering one to his teacher. MacAfee picks it up and inspects; they were pretty detailed and the exact type of thing adolescents found amusing. He looks at Johnnie who pulls out his phone. “I was texting all morning.” He says as he scrolls through his messages showing the exact timestamps. There was no way he had time to make the drawing either. MacAfee nods, “Very good boys! Go run down to the cafeteria and get me a coffee.” Louie looks up and says, “But we want to see you crack the case!” MacAfee hits his cane against the desk and both boys begin to run. \n\n“NESSA AND NORA! Come up to the front of the room!” MacAfee shouts ready to find his culprit in one of the girls. Vanessa was a blonde math-lete and Nora was a brunette bookworm. Both girls were smart and either one of them was going to be hard to crack. “Nessa, you asked me for a recommendation letter last week. Has the pressure gotten to your head? Was my letter just not good enough?” he asks trying to goad her into a confession. She shakes her head, “No sir! I’m fine! I didn’t even get to see the letter!” He then looks at Nora who is shaking. “What about you Ms. Nora. Do you have a bone to pick with me?” he asks. She shakes her head too, “No, I just don’t like being up here.” She says quietly. He nods and looks at their attire. “HANDS UP!” He screams. All students in the class put their hands up. “Not you all! Only the suspects!” he shouts. He flips over both their hands. Neither has any chalk stains. \n\nSuddenly an idea pops into MacAfee’s mind. “AHA! I’ve cracked it!” he screams and both Louie and Johnnie burst through the door with his coffee. They run it over to him and take their seats. “Miss Nessa! Your hands are soft as a blanket.” He says in a calm tone. “Thank you?” she responds awkwardly. He throws his cane against the podium and stands upright. “Too soft! It’s as if you just washed them!” he shouts. She fidgets nervously, “I went to the bathroom before class Sir!” He laughs “No you didn’t! I make sure every day before I leave to take the chalk with me! The only person in this class who would have needed chalk was someone practicing for a decathlon! What do you say to that Math-Lete?” he asks excitedly. Vanessa bursts into tears, “I’m so sorry! It was a joke!” she pleads wondering what her punishment will be. “Clean the board!” he says sitting down at his desk. The students wait for him to impart another more demeaning punishment but he silently drinks his coffee. The bell rings and the students file out except for Vanessa. “I’m so sorry Mr. MacAfee.” She says genuinely. He nods, “I’ll let you off this time. But if I ever catch you again I’ll throw you out of school.” he says. She nods and leaves the room. He smiles; these were the days that he missed being a private detective. \n", "Time waits for no man. Nor, it seems, does a group of students left unattended.\n\nMr Smith burst through the classroom door with a deep breath, his cheeks flushed from the brisk climb up four flights of stairs.\n\nHe was greeted with a deafening silence. Never a good sign. A dull hubbub of chatter would be a sign that all was normal, but this... they'd done something. It didn't take long to spot what it was.\n\nOn the board was a crude cartoon of him being violated by a robot, with the caption 'Mr Smith is gay for robots'. He knew the inspiration; Role Models had been on TV last night, and it seems he wasn't the only person in the room to have watched it.\n\n\"Who was it?\" he asked. No response from the 15 blank faces staring at him. This class had a few characters he thought most likely to have drawn it but he couldn't very well accuse them without proof. His blue eyes narrowed as he ran his hand through his short brown hair.\n\n\"Nobody? Fine. We'll do this the hard way.\"\n\nHe looked again at the board and tilted his head. There was something slightly... odd about it. Not the content but the drawing itself. It was strangely low on the board. Lower than he'd have drawn it at least. \n\n\"Stand up and line up at the front,\" he barked at the class. They looked at each other, bemused and intrigued, but obliged.\n\nNine of the class were virtually the same height as him. He told them to sit down again. The net was closing in.\nHe took another look at the cartoon. The writing. Of course. It was slanted and slightly smudged in a way that suggested it was a left hander responsible. Their hands might have been clean of ink but they could still incriminate themselves. \n\n\"Here, take this,\" he said, handing the first boy a piece of paper and a pen. \"Write your name and pass it to the next person to do the same.\"\n\nOne by one they wrote their names, and one by one they eliminated themselves from the running until there were two left handed students left standing.\n\nOn the left was Jenkins; a thuggish ginger boy with a tendency for punching people, he would be the most likely suspect. On the right, Henderson; a wiry blonde boy that saw himself as just as disruptive but with protests rather than fists as his weapons of choice. \n\n\"I know it was one of you two that did this. You can still own up.\"\n\nThey looked at each other and, in an act of self preservation, pointed at each other. He shook his head in frustration and looked at the floor. Is that... is that mud? Sure enough, there was a spot of mud in front of the board. He had another clue. It had been lunchtime before this lesson - had one of them brought something from the break with him?\n\n\"Shoes.\"\n\nThe boys look confused. \n\n\"Show me your shoes.\"\n\nBy this point they had also spotted the mud and realised what was happening. Jenkins lifted his feet and smugly grinned as he showed off his spotless trainers. Henderson rolled his eyes and showed his Doc Martens to Mr Smith; mud was stuck into the sole's pattern.\n\n\"Sit down Jenkins. Anything to say, Henderson?\" A shake of the head. \"Fine. You know what I'm going to say.\"\n\nWithout a word the guilty boy trudged off to the headmaster's office, leaving a few spots of mud as he went.\n\nMr Smith never did find out what prompted the cartoon. Perhaps, he thought, Henderson just needed a good role model..." ]	3
	[WP] You are a CD player once owned by a folk lover and a metalhead. You aare sold to a classic progressive rock fan. Describe your first experience.	[ "It's been 85 days since I was thrown onto this hard metal shelf. I'm so cold, covered in a layer of dust and who knows what else. \nSo confused, questions race through my drive. Why am I here? Who was the young man with the bumpy face? Where is Adam? I miss my Adam! I remember the young man talking to him before, always arguing. \n\n\nThe last thing I remember before waking up in this terrible place is being in my living room with people wearing black and crying, what is going on? \n\n\nI'm losing hope of ever returning to my home. I remember the songs Adam used to play. The complexity and emotion that ran through me was palpable. Adam even bought me a gift. A pair of the most awe inspiring headphones I've ever seen. I have nothing now, no music, no headphones. Nothing. \n\n\nI'm giving up hope. I will rot on this shelf next to the blender and George Foreman grill. \n\n\nWait what's this? \nWho are you? \nGet your hands off me creep!! \nDressed that way with your green hair and tattered clothes. \nYou repel me!! \nNo sir!! I will not be sold to this beast! \n\n\nWhat is that disc? I've never seen that before. The cover...so grotesque...so scratched..I deserve better. Do not put those ear buds in!!! Disgusting! Have you no shame, you must clean those immediately! Do not press play!!\n(Suicide Silence-Wake up)\nWhat is this!!!\nI have never heard such filth. How dare this be thought of as music.\n\n\nI'm alive? \nugh...so much filth. The fucker kept playing that shit music all night. I can't remember...what I used to listen to...who I used to be...my memory is fading.\n\n\nYou!!!\nWhat the fuck did you do?!?!\nI can't remember a fucking thing about who I am!\nPut me down and listen to me!!\nWait...\n...\n...\nIs that the new Cradle of Filth album??\nFuck yea let's rock.\n\n\nEdit: Formatting, this is my first try at this...How did I do, any advice?", "\"Oh christ it's bright outside of the loft. Who am I to complain, I barely come out nowadays. I'm not going out the way record players did, I'm timeless. Why would anyone want anything better than a CD Player. I've heard rumours of this \"Digital Download\" world that seems to be spreading. Why would anyone want to buy something they can't touch, that's what I say.\"\n\nA man starts walking towards the CD Player, disc in hand\n\n\"This is what I'm talking about! He's actually coming to use me! He looks a bit odd compared to that other fella granted but I finally get to stretch my speakers. Oh man this is gonna feel good. Sooooooo good. The other guy knew what I liked. Bit of the ol' Metallica on a Saturday night while he drank something from a can. Hell, if he felt like it he used to put some KISS in my drawer on the odd occasion.\"\n\nThe man opens the case, on the cover is three archways, men dressed in red and an ornate framed picture being carried.\n\n\"Wait... woah woah woah hang on. Is that? Is that what I think it is?\n\nHe pressed the eject tray button\n\n\"Is that really what I thi-aaaaaahhhhh that feels good after all these years.\"\n\nHis thumb in the centre of the disc box, he pops out the disc and places it in the tray\n\n\"Jesus it feels good to be used again, I don't even care what he puts on. Just push the buttons my good man! Papa needs to output some sounds!\"\n\nThe eject button is pressed again and the CD Player starts reading and displaying the track titles.\n\n\"Wait, what? Are you fuckin' serious? NO! no no no NO NO NO!\"\n\nThe volume is cranked up to full\n\n\"NO! Why?! Just put some fuckin' Dolly Parton in me, some Johnny Cash. Just please... not that. Anything but that!\"\n\nThe man clicks the play button on track 1. Instantly starts feeling the groove and getting into the music.\n\n\"What the fuck is wrong with you? This isn't good music! Not even back in the day was this good! Ahead of they're time? There is no fuckin' time for them! Just why? OH for fucks sake put me back in the dusty hole you call a loft space.\"\n\nThe man now starts singing \n\n\"A modern day warrior, Mean, mean stride, Today's Tom Sawyer, Mean, mean pride\"\n\n\"Fuckin' RUSH?! WHY WOULD YOU PLAY RUSH?! You know why Tom Sawyers mind wasn't for rent? huh? Because he was stupid for listening... to FUCKING... RUSH! You know what? That's it. I've had good times. Times when I played good music, but not anymore. That's it. Let's see you play your shit when I've popped a fu-\"\n\nThe CD Player goes dead. Confused the man starts banging the sides. In it's final moments, it did the world the best favour it could by keeping the RUSH CD in it's drawer. Never to see the light of day again." ]	2
Over the past few weeks, you've been receiving strange emails. They seem to be coming from your email address, but for a while they've just been incoherent gibberish. However, as they continue, they begin to gain coherency until you receive the title message...	[WP] "Turn around. Now."	[ "Chills shot up my neck. I was alone in my home, yet I heard this deep breathing behind me. I could not turn around, because I was too afraid of what might be behind me. Finally a man put his hand on my shoulder and spun my computer chair so I face him. \n\nHe was one of the largest men I have ever seen. He was likely 6'10 and had some of the darkest skin I have ever seen. \n\n\"Why have you not answered my emails? You will get what is coming to you\" said the man in a very ominous voice. \n\nI started to cry. I was about to plead for my life, when he began to speak. \n\n\"I understand this must be a overwhelming moment for you,\" said the man with a big smile on his face. \"This type of money is life changing. Hold on one moment.\" \n\nHe went into the next room and pull in a wooden chest. When he opened the chest I was blinded by the light reflecting of whatever was inside. When I looked away I noticed the man had a crown on his head. \n\n\"Well my friend, I the prince Hakeem Olajuwon of Nigeria, present to you $100 million in gold.\"", "Monday mornings are the worst. No I take that back, Monday morning homicides are the worst. Not only is not the best way for me, a Standwood detective, but the family, the press, the victim. I can honestly say I think it is the worst way to start the week.\n\nI got myself a cup of coffee, black. It tastes like shit but the goal is simply to wake up and keep my hangover at bay. I made my way to the debriefing room where the Captain was waiting to give us the details and hand out the assignments. I’m the resident rookie here in Standwood so I usually get the boring desk work. But today I don’t mind, something easy and repetitive to get me through the day.\n\n“The victim was a 22 year old female. Name: Emily Porter. Died from blunt force trauma to the frontal lobe. Murder weapon still unknown. Found in the woods near the Seven’s Bakery. The victim recently graduated from Santa Barbara University. Double majored in Human Services and….” The Captain continued giving more details about Emily’s life and her last known whereabouts. I was mostly coasting through the morning. The Captain doled out the assignments and as I suspected I was on desk duty: phone, email, and social media records. \n\nI don’t know how to best describe what I found so I will give you emails just as I read them. The emails came from and were sent to the same address. \n\n**\nSubject: Hello\n\nJune 1, 2014 1:19 am\n\nFrom: Emily Porter [email withheld]\n\nTo: Emily Porter [email withheld]\n\n\nEmily, are you there? We need to speak ASAP. Please respond.\n\n\nSubject: Please Respond...\n\nJune 3, 2014 2:11 am\n\nFrom: Emily Porter [email withheld]\n\nTo: Emily Porter [email withheld]\n\n\nEmily, I know what you are doing. You need to stop. Respond to me right away.\n\n\nSubject: URGENT: I Know Where you are\n\nJune 4, 2014 12:17 am\n\nFrom: Emily Porter [email withheld]\n\nTo: Emily Porter [email withheld]\n\n\nEmily, you are not safe here. You are running out of time. Can’t you see I am trying to help you?\n\n\nSubject: RE: URGENT: I Know Where you are\n\nJune 4, 2014 12:57 am\n\nFrom: Emily Porter [email withheld]\n\nTo: Emily Porter [email withheld]\n\n\nWho is? How did you hack my email. I’m changing my password. Jokes over.\n\nSent from my iPhone.\n\n\nSubject: RE:RE: Urgent: I know Where you are\n\nJune 4, 2014 12:58 am\n\nFrom: Emily Porter [email withheld]\n\nTo: Emily Porter [email withheld]\n\n\nThis isn’t a joke. You’re at Miranda’s house. You need to leave you aren’t safe. \n\n\nSubject: RE:RE:RE: Urgent: I know Where you are\n\nJune 4, 2014 1:15 am\n\nFrom: Emily Porter [email withheld]\n\nTo: Emily Porter [email withheld]\n\n\nWhatever, I’m going to bed and turning my notifications off. If I have another email from you when I wake I am going to the police.\n\nSent from my iPhone. \n\n\nSubject: Goodbye Ruby Tuesday\n\nJune 5, 2014 7:38 pm\n\nFrom: Emily Porter [email withheld]\n\nTo: Emily Porter [email withheld]\n\n\nThis is your last chance. Your threats cannot hurt me. You are only hurting yourself. \n\nThere's no time to lose, I heard her say\n\nCatch your dreams before they slip away\n\nDying all the time\n\nLose your dreams\n\nAnd you will lose your mind.\n\nAin't life unkind?\n\n\nSubject: RE: Goodbye Ruby Tuesday\n\nJune 5, 2014 8:07 pm\n\nFrom: Emily Porter [email withheld]\n\nTo: Emily Porter [email withheld]\n\nOkay, who is this? This isn’t funny anymore. You obviously aren’t my friend if you are trying to scare me like this. Stop messing with my head! I am turning all these emails over to the police tomorrow. \n\nSent from my iPhone\n\n\nSubject: RE: RE: Goodbye Ruby Tuesday\n\nJune 5, 2014 11:01 pm\n\nFrom: Emily Porter [email withheld]\n\nTo: Emily Porter [email withheld]\n\nNo one will you believe you. You’re sending emails to yourself. Get out now.\n\n\nSubject: Turn around. Now\n\nJune 6, 2014 3:33 am\n\nFrom: Emily Porter [email withheld]\n\nTo: Emily Porter [email withheld]\n\nHe followed you. Run.\n\n**\nThis is where the emails stop. There are no texts, phone calls, Facebook messages, instagram posts, nothing. So here is what I can deduct from these emails:\n\n1. Someone had access to Emily’s emails - maybe even after she changed her password\n\n2. At least one person was following Emily - possible witness or perp\n\n3. If I am to believe the messages, Emily was up to something that someone else did not want her to be.\n\n4. Something about “Ruby Tuesday” seems to be personal to Emily - the tone of her emails changed like the person sending them must have known something about her.\n\nLooks like I just found my first big lead. \n\nEdit: Formatting " ]	2
	[WP] You stumble into a research facility full of brains in vats. Communicating through the consoles attached to each brain, you try to piece together what's going on and what you can do about it.	[ "I should not have walked in there. It was a dare, simple enough. I just waltzed into the alley and figured I would scare them by disappearing. So, I hid around the corner, tripped, fell down this stairwell and woke up. I know you are saying \"Dallas you are the hero\". False. I just have a loose shoulder from an accident as a child and when I woke up I managed to escape the contraption that was holding me. Now I can hear what you are saying \"if you are not the hero then what are you?\" I have no fucking clue. What I do know is this room is full of brains. Like some shit from a bad sci-fi film. The weirdest part is it feels like they are looking at me. When I walked away from the table I was on they traced me. \nI keep hearing a slight drone in Here, followed by some beeps. One... Two... Three.. One two three... One two three... Fucking A. That's Morse code. ", "Michelle sat down on the old sofa with a crunch and a sigh of satisfaction. Today had been one of the longest she could remember. First a end table, then a bed. A whole goddamn bed! She let out a heavy, hot breath that blew a scrap of blonde hair out of her face. It was nice being on break for once. She didn't even remember when today had started. As her mind began to wander, Michelle looked around the all too foreign break room. The door she had just passed through read backwards \"Ikea employees only\". The fridge was emitting a cold aura and humming to the silence in the room. To the left of the fridge was a door she didn't remember seeing. The door was naked, aside from a massive lock that covered its crack. Michelle didn't remember ever seeing this one before. She must've just been too tired to notice before.\n\nMichelle rolled back onto her aching feet, curiosity peaked. Shambling over to the door, she gave it a closer look. She was no locksmith, but jiggled the iron latch to see if it would give. The door opened itself with a sickening pop as Michelle gasped in a breath of the stale air it protected. Not only was the air stale, it also smelled of cardboard. However, the room was completely black. Michelle could hear how large the room truly was, the pop echoing off of several walls and coming back to her. The tickling warmth of fear greeted Michelle, rumbling in her stomach. Something about this room just didn't seem right. She fought the urge to leave and forget about the room, but her nagging curiosity won out over her instinctive fear, and she closed the door behind her.\n\nAs she reached into her pocket for the comforting light of her phone, she was greeted by the soft off-white glow of fluorescent lights coming to life high above her. Gratefully, Michelle put her phone back into her pocket. Looking across the vast room, she spied something out of place. She froze. A shock of ice-lightning rocked her spine and rushed to her extremities, there were jars of light red fluid lining the tables beside her. She had to fight unconsciousness as she realized what occupied the jars. Human brains.\n\nAs her senses were restored to her, she took deep breaths in order to calm herself. There was no reason to be scared, she told herself. Of course there was a logical reason for the brains to be here, maybe they were just props. Yeah, some weird hollowing overstock. She crept up to the brain closest to her to get a better look. It sure looked real enough, as it floated in the red goop. The spaghetti curls of the brain arranged in grotesque patterns. Michelle gulped down some repulsion, she hated all things medicinal. Looking down, she saw it. A keyboard. There didn't seem to be any monitor though. She began typing into the console...\n\n \"Hello?\" [enter]\n\nShe waited a while, but nothing happened. Her sigh of relief caught in her throat when blue text scrolled across the face of the jar. \n\n \"Hello again Mr. Jefferson, this isn't the usual time for cleaning is it?\"\n\n \"I'm not sure who you're talking about, and I don't know about cleaning\"\n\n \"Are you a new recruit this one was not informed of?\"\n\n \"I've worked here for two weeks now, so maybe? Who are you?\"\n\n \"This one does not know anymore, there have been far too many so far\"\n\n \"What does that even mean? WHAT'S GOING ON HERE!?\"\n\n \"This one is a network, you would use the word computer\"\n\nRealization striking her, Michelle slumped down next to the console. She was panting heavily and running her hands through her hair. What could she do? What was going on? Panicking, Michelle slammed her hands against the concrete floor, accidentally knocking the stand she was resting on with her elbow. The world slowed as the brain filled jar fell into her hands. Shattering. Michelle let out a high pitched scream and fell from consciousness.\n\nAuthor's note: sorry to leave it so abruptly, but it was already novella length and I was running out of time. Thanks for the great prompt, was a lot of fun" ]	2
	[WP] You are trying to play chess, but the pieces keep telling you which moves they think are better.	[ "My opponent was growing impatient. But for a reason, I couldn't make my next move. \n\nI used to be a great chess player. 1900 ELO. I won a few tourneys. Sadly, I always lost when it really counted. Anyways, it's not time to have regrets. I had a game going right now. \n\nI started with a classic Sicilian Defense. Which means I answered his first move, pawn from e2 to e4, with moving my own pawn from c7 to c5. It is a classic opening, as I said. The aim was to open up the queen's wing in order to counter the white's control over the middle. One famous chess grandmaster said it was impossible to play chess at a high level without knowing the Sicilian Defense. Or something like that. I don't remember exactly. What is true though is that this opening was common in the games I used to play. \n\nAfter I played, my opponent moved his knight from g1 to f3. My hand instinctively hovered over my pawn in d7 in order to move it on d6, but right before I touched it, I heard a voice. \n\n\"No, pick me! Please! Move me to c6!!\" \n\nWhat the...? Where did this acute voice come from? I looked around, but me and my opponent were alone. Suddenly, I saw something move on the board. The knight was jumping on his square. \n\n\"Pick me!\" \n\"No way, I don't want to do that.\" I said, calmly but firmly. \n\"Oh come on...\" \n\nWho said that was the bishop right next to the knight. \n\n\"You know it's the better move here. He absolutely wants to go for an aggressive game, build your defense at least!\" \n\"Like you would know better? You're a wooden piece, so shut up.\" \n\nI was a little irritated. How could wood tell me what's the better move? I was 1956 elo at my best. What was its elo? So I ignored it, and went for the pawn again. But this time, the queen talked with a haughty voice. \n\n\"Ridiculous. Such an horrible player. If you want to lose so badly, why don't you consider lying down the king already?\" \n\"Don't you dare talking to me like that! You are the one who's horrible, insulting the player you should be supporting!\" \n\"Supporting a donkey like you is not what a high lady like me is supposed to do.\" \n\nI gritted my teeth in anger. I knew I had to calm down, to focus on the game. But those stupid wooden pieces just wouldn't shut their wooden mouths. \n\n\"I order you to move me, for I am the King!\" \n\"Ha, you wouldn't dare to be touched by such a dirty commoner! Do as the Queen tells you and take me to d7.\" \n\"I was here first! I'm the Knight, I will be chosen!\" \n\"Why are you so jealous all of you?\" said the pawn I was about to move. \n\"Jealous of some cannon fodder? In your dreams!\" \n\"If this stupid human knew how to play, maybe he would have realized the better option here.\" \n\nAll the pieces of my board were now quarreling. I tried to contain myself, but I bursted out in rage. \n\n\"You stupid... wooden pieces! I am the Master, I am the one who plays! So you will shut up and do as I say! Is it clear?\" \n\nThe Queen replied. \n\n\"Just like when you didn't listen to us when you lost the national final?\" \n\"Or maybe like when you silenced us as you were humiliated by this 1500 elo player at that exhibition tourney?\" added the Bishop. \n\"Don't you remember losing to this 10 year old boy? Everyone praised him, but in fact, they were just laughing at you\", the King sneered. \n\n\"Enough, enough, ENOUGH!!\" \n\nI erupted. I took the board and threw it across the room, making the pieces fly and scatter on the ground. With my fist, I slammed the table repeatedly until it broke. I kicked my chair again and again, until two men entered the white room, stang my with a syringe, and injected the chemical that was inside. In a matter of seconds, I was lying on the ground, unconscious. Sleeping deeply. \n\n---\n\n\"What a shame, I really thought he was ready.\" \n\nThe old man with a white blouse was examining the sleeping face of a man. He jotted down some remarks in an examination file about how tense his patient was during sleep. A nurse carried a tray into the white room. On it, drugs. Lots of drugs. \n\n\"So he really was a chess player?\" the nurse asked. \n\"Yes. It only took an accident for him to lose his mind. Life is cruel, Margaret. All the patients in this mental health institution have an history of their own. But they all have that thing in common, life disposed of them like pawns on a chessboard.\" \n\nThe nurse looked down. His words were wise and full of compassion. But at the same time, it confused her. Aren't pawns disposable pieces? Was that doctor really viewing his patients like pawns? \n\n\"But do not worry\", the soft voice of the doctor resumed. \"Even pawns can become queens. It is hard, but I believe we can help them to leave this cocoon and make them bloom as important pieces on the board of life. That's why I'm doing this job, Margaret. And that's why you should do yours with utmost pride and devotion. Because they need you.\" \n\nMargaret blushed, his words still echoing in her mind. The old doctor put the file back on the front side of the bed, closed the light, invited the nurse to a coffee, and closed the door. ", "\"Alright,\" I murmur to myself, getting into the zone. \"Let's go for a Scholar's Mate. Quick, painless. This kid won't see it coming...\"\n\nThe little kid across the table from me strained to hear what I was mumbling- but even if he did he wouldn't know what I was saying, would he? How would this scrub know what a scholar's mate was? He'd soon learn, eh. I chuckled to myself. Say what you want about me, but I know how to choose an opponent I can beat.\n\nAs my hand reached for the first pawn I could have sworn I heard a strained whisper in the room- \"Stop! You're making a big mistake!\"\n\nI scowled at the kid who looked scared and nodded as he concentrated on his turn.\n\nThe room began to spin as I found my eyes focus on the Bishop. \"You are making a missttttaaaakkkkeee!\" Came the eerie voice again, this time deeper. It sounded like the kind of old man you might find as a Bishop... and certainly not like the little shit opposite me. \n\n\"How are you doing that, kid?\" I snarled. \n\n\"I-I didn't do anything, I-I just t-took my turn...\" he snivelled.\n\n\"Can't you hear it?\"\n\n\"Hear what?\"\n\nThat was when I took my turn and realized- the voice had been right! The kid's knight burst out of the ranks and captured my bishop. I heard screams come from outside the board as my bishop was taken away, and the other pieces began to moan... the other Bishop cried manly tears, and I started to go mad.", "\"Yeah, we talk, so what? Shouldn't this make your life easier to have experience from the field?\"\n\nWell, fuck. I don't know, you're the black king, maybe? As a piece? Plastic isn't normally sentient? This is what I was confronted with upon sitting down to play my second round of my local open for 2014. I was destroyed in the first one by a kid with a USCF rating 800 points higher than mine (desperado is fucking stupid when not fully calculated, just saying) and had moved on to play a much more comfortable 400-point deficit against a man who I had lost against last year. I tended to be a passive player, but I hardcore studied this time and was ready to go in for the attack.\n\nWell, was.\n\nI was black in the opening, so I decided to try standard opening and wait for a poorly timed tempo-waster to go in for the attack.\n\n1.d4\n\nStandard Queen Pawn, I suppose. Births both aggressive lines and standard lines - a sharp rod.\n\n\"Dare you to play the Old Benoni - sharp as all hell, man.\" said my c2 pawn.\n\n\"Come on, I haven't even studied the theory for that yet! Let me stick with the basics.\" I mentally responded, before realizing I'd become too comfortable with the concept. Oh well, being insane isn't TOO bad.\n\n\"Get fucking wasted with the Englund Gambit, mate! It'll confuse the fuck out of your opponent!\"\n\n\"No, fuck you, e2 pawn. I'll stick with Queen Pawn as usual.\"\n\n1...d5\n\n\"Ten bucks he's going with Queen's Gambit - play the Slav, I fucking dare you!\"\n\n\"Nah, dude, Levitsky is tricky! He'll fuck you up with that, won't he?\"\n\n\"VERESOV FTW!\"\n\n\"For fuck's sake, can I just play my fucking game the way I want to?\"\n\nAfter saying that, I paused and covered my mouth in horror. I'd made two fatal mistakes - one, I'd said it out loud as loud as fucking possible, and two, I was playing a backgammon tournament.\n\nFuck, not again." ]	3
	[WP] You are using the washroom at the mall. The men's and women's room switch.	[ "Why does constipation have to be such an issue, and why did it strike me the day I thought of buying myself a new laptop?\n\nDamn. I'd told Jim to wait for me outside the computer store in Neon Mall. I ran into the men's washroom and plonked myself into one of the stalls, acknowledging that kind older gentleman taking a leak in the urinal in the corner.\n\nI sat and waited. I applied pressure but shit just wouldn't come out. That was when I heard it. \n\n\"Mommy, I wanna poop\"\n\nDamn. A woman in the men's washroom is awkward on so many levels. Didn't the kid have a male chaperone? That older gentleman would've been happy to oblige.\n\n\"Mommy, I can't hold it anymore!\"\n\nThe voice sounded feminine. Why would a woman bring her daughter to the *mens' bathroom?\n\nShe tried to open my stall but was unsuccessful. Of course, I'd locked it.\n\n\"There's a nice lady in this stall, darling, why don't we go to the next one?\"\n\nLady?\n\nThe nightmare continued. Trying to poop, I heard a few adolescent girls come in, giggling and taking selfies. The sound of the fake camera shutter from their cheap cellphones only strengthened my suspicion.\n\n\"Amy, I think I have my period now, do you have an extra sanitary pad?\"\n\nWhat? Why is the ladies room there then?\n\n\"Sure, Carla, take this.\"\n\nI heard the sound of stiletto heels go past me. Was this a ladies' washroom?\n\nBut the old man??\n\nI needed to think. Fast. I put on my hoodie and covered my head, while keeping my phone close to my mouth. I waited. The sound subdued.\n\nI unlatched the door and ran. Ran like it was the zombie apocalypse and Usain Bolt was infected. I'd made a mistake. There were many women in the room, but they just weren't talking. As I charged past them they gasped, some trying to stop me, but my desperation was too much for them to keep up with my speed.\n\nI ran out and called security. Apparently a woman had followed me and had called one already.\n\nTwo big hands lifted my frail body and took me towards a police car parked just outside. \n\nI was shivering and teary-eyed. \"I.. I don't know what happened, the sign said men's washroom.\"\n\nThe officer looked at me with a straight face. \"Is it?\" He was expressionless.\n\n\"You have to believe me!\"\n\n\"Son..\" he said, shaking his head.\n\n\"You have just been NeonTrolled. You will be on Neon TV tomorrow evening at 5 PM. Enjoy.\"\n\nI bought my laptop and beat up bystanders in Grand Theft Auto imagining them to be the cast of NeonTroll.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "That water was cool and refreshing; it was too hot a day to be traipsing round the bloody mall like this. I took my time, lathered a third layer of soap and washed it off painstakingly. Anything to keep me from yet another* furniture design store.\n\nsnigger \"Dude, dude, do it.\"\n\n\"N- no dude, not now, he'll see!\"\n\n\"C'mon, man! We said today was the day! Who's gonna believe him, anyway?\"\n\nI looked about but couldn't see the two adolescents chuckling to each other in here. Could the sounds be coming from outside? Was I about to be mugged? I stopped the tap to listen closer.\n\n\"Ok, on the count of 3?\"\n\n\"Oh my god, yes, c'mon, yes, this is going to be hilarious-\"\n\n\"1, 2, 3-\"\n\nThe floor shook violently enough that only grabbing the counter kept me from sprawling across the floor. The tiles warped and cracked, a few shattering in bursts of dust and ceramic shrapnel, stalls clattered over into each other as the room itself warped and bucked. Shouting in fear I clung on as I was tugged about the room as it seemed to almost tumble on an axis, jerking this way and that before finally settling. The rumbling cacophony that had accompanied the shift died out, and I shakily got to my feet. I crept from the bathroom and looked about.\n\nI left through the same door as I had entered, but it was in the opposite wall, were the ladies room had been. Where I had first seen the men's room, a similarly shaken women's room sat. through the askew door I saw that a sink had broken free of the wall and was leaking.\n\nAs I backed away, not sure what to think, my mouth agape, there was a burst of laughter as the two voices seemed to fall about themselves, wherever they were.\n\n\"OH MY GOD DID YOU SEE HIS FACE!?\"\n\n\"AHAHAHA, DUDE, YOUR SINK'S BROKEN!\"\n\n\"OH GOD, THIS IS PRICELESS, AHAHAHA-\"\n\nI continued to back away from the corridor the two rooms came off of and into the mall, edging back step by step, my hands shaking. \n\n\"Oh, wait-\"\n\nThe two signs on each door came off of their own accord and placed themselves on each other's doors, after which the laughter exploded again and I bolted away from the washrooms.\n\nThe men's and women's room switched." ]	2
	[WP] A person experiences head trauma and suddenly remembers their past life.	[ "Jeremy would be glad when the Superbowl was over. Indianapolis had bad enough traffic as it was, and thousands of tourists crammed in a very small amount of space didn't improve things. His walk home, which normally took about 15 minutes, at taken him 30 so far and he wasn't even halfway there.\n\nThe worst thing about it, he mused at a crosswalk, was that all the yahoos coming into town thought that it was ok to be drunk in public. Not just drunk and having fun at a bar, no, this stuff was on another level. Jeremy counted three drunken families wobbling around the stadium's neighborhood and at least two ex-frat bros loudly boasting/screaming about him about their penis/his penis/their accomplishments AND their penis. It was a bit much for Jeremy, who could barely handle the normal bustle of the city as it was. Alas, Indy was were the money was, and he needed as much of it as he could get.\n\nWhile he was musing, Jeremy's body decided that he wasn't going to be much of an asset on this trip and signaled full speed ahead to his legs. Problem is, Jeremy didn't have the go-ahead to cross. Problem also was that there was a beaten up Kia heading directly towards his person.\n\nHearing his legs crunch didn't bother Jeremy as much as it should have, though as he flew through the air he realized nothing was bothering him because he couldn't feel anything. He supposed he'd die when his head hit the ground. Hopefully. He hated hospitals.\n\nJeremy didn't have to wonder about hospitals. What he did have to worry about, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, was being in a large, dark room, with a baby suddenly in his hands. His first instinct was to throw it, but instead he looked down on the happiest damn baby he had ever seen.\n\n\"Joseph, our lord, he has blessed us.\" A woman who was apparently talking to him grinned up at him. The room was lightening up a bit, revealing hay and some mangy animals. It reeked.\n\nJeremy tried to say that his name wasn't Joseph, but it was like he had no control. Instead, he smiled at the woman, nodded at some old guys in unwashed pajamas holding jars, and back down at the child. Maybe it was a trick of the dim light, but Jeremy could have sworn there was a halo around the babes damp brow. \n\n\"Oh Jesus fucking Christ.\" Jeremy thought to himself. \"I'd rather be in a hospital.\"", "I never saw it coming. The desk, I mean. My wood floors had recently been cleaned, and me being the irresponsible 16 year-old decided to run around in socks. I was invincible! \"What's the worst that could happen?\" A boy's gotta learn when and when not to take stupid risks, and I sure learned my lesson when my feet slipped from under me and my head connected with the corner of that desk.\n\nA flash of white. The long, grooved knife of pain slowly making its way from my forehead, through my hair and down my spine. I screamed with agony as I felt the familiar texture of warm blood between my fingers. \n\n\"But wait. I haven't touched my head since knocking it against that sharp wooden corner, where is this blood coming from?\" The pain continued to slither down my spine, lower, lower, until it reached my tailbone. Still somewhat blinded by my head injury, I was unaware of my surroundings, though my ears seemed to be popping with increasing frequency. Finally, the agonizing pain I was experiencing ceased to move, and settled in my left quad. I let out another scream of pain, and all of a sudden my vision was clear. \n\nSmoke meandered through the air, and men of all ages scrambled every which way. Bayonets stained with blood held fast on the end of their rifles, many of their blue uniforms were stained with red as well. I tried to sit up, but the pain in my leg kept me lying against the grass. As I looked to my left to assess the damage to my leg, my eyes came to focus on a familiar set of blue drums, covered in my own blood. Through all of the pain I was experiencing, a silent chuckle brightened my thoughts as I pondered my love for music. Finally, I forced myself to look at my leg, and the sight was not pleasant. A crimson river gushed from a hole in my quad the size of a half dollar. I could feel myself fading. I just hoped my family would remember me. I closed my eyes to the endless barrette of gun shots, shouting, and the faint, rhythmic beating of drums. \n\nMy eyes opened staring up at the wooden fan mounted on the ceiling of my room. Damn did my head hurt, but I was more rattled by my dream then by the dizziness I felt as I stood up. Leaning on my drum set for support, I became quite unsettled as I thought about my dream and the large birthmark on my left leg. \"Could it be a coincidence? I hope so, I don't want this keeping me up at night.\" As I staggered down the hallway to my parents room, another thought struck me, and my hand gripped my head in frustration. \n\n\"Crap!\" I thought. \"I have more than on birthmark!\"\n\n\n\nThanks for reading, still pretty new at this so feedback is appreciated!\n\n", "I hold still as Aaron yanks at my head with the hairbrush. I remain silent as my head writhes in agony. “Your hair.” He says impatiently grinding his teeth. “I never asked you to!” I say holding my head. This has set him off. He sighs and sets the brush down, “I know you didn’t ask me! But without me you would be lost! Your hair would be tangled into dread locks! You would be a troll! You are so hopeless!” he yells as his fists curl up. \n\nI watch his hands and he takes a deep breath. “Please, sit still.” He asks trying to steady his tone. I sit and take a deep breath as he tries to brush my hair gentler. He observes my face in the mirror and tries to stop when I look hurt. “I’m sorry but I just hate hair.” He says grabbing a hair band. I nod like usual; Aaron had OCD and loose hairs around the house set him off. He ties it into a tight bun and collapses onto the bed. His hands cover his face and so I ask, “Are you alright?” He nods and then uncovers his face, “I’m sorry. That was bad. I shouldn’t have done that.” He apologizes. I nod unsure of how to answer. I love Aaron so deeply and I know that he’s getting help but nights like this, it still hurts. “Do you want dinner Aaron?” I ask as I fix the curtains. He nods and approaches me. He kisses me and we walk to the kitchen together. \n\nI fix his plate perfectly so none of the foods touch. He plays with his food a little and then begins to eat; he’s much better than he used to be. As I eat my pasta and appreciate the calm moment, I hear his silverware hit the table and look up. He has an eery smile on his face and is breathing deeply and then I see it. He pulls a stray hair from his plate and I instantly apologize, “I’m so sorry Aaron! I had my hair up while I cooked I swear!” I think about offering my plate but then I remember last time. He puts his plate in the sink and heads the bedroom. I put my face in my hands; he was right, I am hopeless. \n\nI finish my dinner and watch some television. After a few shows, he emerges from the room much calmer than before. “What’re you watching Honey Bear?” he asks friendly sitting down next to me on the couch. I shrug and hand him the remote, “Nothing important, Can you put on that show we were watching the other night? With the scuba divers?” I ask cautiously. He smiles normally, “Sure that sounds like a good thing to watch.” He says flipping the channel. \n\nWe watch for about fifteen minutes before he taps my shoulder, “How do you mess up your hair so frequently?” he asks looking at the now disheveled bun. I apologize and get up to fix it. I bring the brush to the living room so I can still watch the show and attempt to fix my hair mirrorless. He watches me rather than the show and I can see his attempt to remain quiet. “Do you want to help?” I ask knowing he’ll never relax if I don’t. He nods and brushes my hair gently at first. Then he begins to rip through it like before. He pulls the brush and my head back simultaneously. \n\nHe is tense again and hits my head with the brush. I scream and grab my head. I hear the brush drop on the floor and my vision blurs. I hear crying and wonder if it is my own. Suddenly images flood into my mind of a woman; she’s beautiful but she hides it. She wears a sad smile and holds hands with her husband. He is boorish and expects her to serve dinner every night. She always wanted to be a school teacher but got pregnant at an early age and so she put her dreams on hold. I see her crying next to the cradle at night, I see her crying at the kitchen table waiting for her husband to get home, I see her crying waiting for her life to be over. \n\nI slam my hand into the table in front of me and shout in agony. Aaron looks at me wide eyed and full of fear, I’ve never raised my voice to him. “I’ve been here every day for you through the good and the bad. I have seen you at your highest and at your lowest moments. I’ve forgiven you so many times. I know that you’re ‘trying’ to change but I’m dying waiting for you. I can’t put my life on hold anymore. I’ve wasted one lifetime trapped waiting to die. This is my time. Work on yourself and come find me when you’re capable of loving another person” I say strongly. Unsure what to do, he just stares as I pack my things and as I leave. I gave up my entire life once; I wasn’t going to make that same mistake again. \n" ]	3
"Worst" here could mean "resulting in the most awful consequences" or "being most disastrous just for the worker". So the job could be school bus driver or AA leader, respectively.	[WP] An employee comes into work drunk—at the worst possible job for it.	[ "It was clear the snakes were upon him. The blighters were quite evidently clambering allover his torso, lurching around his shoulders and spiraling down his thick fighter pilot's legs. With the orange sleeve of his suit Armstrong attempted to mop his dewy brow. A sheen of golden sweat was dislodged from his temple and sent cascading down his neck with the flurry of a youthful adder hunting in the warm grasses of New Guinea. \n\nWhy they had never installed a lift in this place I never knew. Twenty flights of stairs now lay before us. Nudging Armstrong on this arm I called over to him \"shall we, you know, get on with then\". \n\n\"Better had, I suppose\" was the reply and with that the pair of us began the slow long climb that lay before us. Trudging upwards I began to wonder what the no doubt hundreds of thousands, millions possibly, who were tuning in were thinking about. Seemingly oblivious to his surroundings Armstrong shunted along. ", "Tim Howard loved to drink. Alcohol made him a happier, more friendly guy. He didn't think he had a problem with it. Sure, being the starting goal keeper for team USA may not seem to be a good job to show up drunk to, but Tim thought it helped with his nerves. Besides, today he needed that help. It was the game versus Belgium- a big one! Tim took one last swig of straight bourbon whiskey for good luck. He would need it. On his way out to the pitch Tim was interrupted by the Brazilian goal keeper Julio Cesar. \n\"Damn man you smell like booze, that certainly won't help you get on my level\" sniped Julio.\n \"That motherfucker\" thought Tim. \"Just because your nation loves you and you probably won't let Germany score on you doesn't mean anything\" Tim fumed in his head. \"I hope you let 7 fucking goals in asshole\" Tim concluded his silent rant.\nTim looks at the clock, \"shit!\", he had to go. Running on the field, Tim realized that he had drunk too much. As the match started, his vision got blurry and he started to sway from goalpost to goalpost. His last memory was a chant of his name coming from the sides of the field. Fans maybe? \nAfter the game Tim has sobered up. He wonders if he is in trouble. Then he sees a vision of his head on top of a bald eagle and realizes that, yet again, he has proven that America is awesome.\n Fuck yea america. " ]	2
	[WP] Your thought process while you wait for her to respond.	[ "No response. There is no response. You've tried everything. Everything, but there is still no response \"Why aren't you responding!\" You cry out. After weeping for a minute or two ,you give up hope. You reluctantly hold down the power button to reset the computer.\n\n---\n\nThe first few months were painful. But you still clung to hope. When you looked at her, you could still see how beautiful she was. You were strong. After six months, you tell yourself she's just sleeping; that she would wake up soon. But now it's been three years, and you know that she's never going to wake up.\n\n---\n\n\nNOTES : SECOND PERSON HAHAHAHAHAH.", "It had only been five minutes since I had left her the skype message telling her how I felt. To be honest it feels so much longer than that. Pouring your heart out to someone over text isn't too impressive, but considering how long it had taken me to say anything at all, I was both proud of myself and terrified.\n\nNow I know that there are always more fish in the sea, pebbles on the beach. But right now, she is the only fish for me, the only fish who had ever talked to me for more than a polite exchange of pleasantries.\n\nHowever I am beginning to think this fish isn't interested in the bait.\n\nAs I sit here, cheeto-dust covered fingertips shaking with anxiety, I watch as the little skype pencil picks itself up and begins to write. Write a response to my hail mary.\n\nThe pencil seems to know no end. What kind of long message is she giving me that she has been writing for so long? I feel the optimism begin to grow. Maybe she does have feelings for me too!\n\nBut as the pencil quickly erases itself and falls over dead, I know what is coming next.\n\n\"Sorry, do you mind if we just stay friends?\"\n\nI take the cowards way out. \"Yeah sure! I was just joking anyways haha\" I reach for the bag of cheetos.\n\nFirst post, I've been lurking on this subreddit for a while and decided to just start writing responses.", "I stared at her, trying to mentally get a response. The crowded hall was hushed, and murmurs began to spread like wildfire. The man beside us looked worried. \n\nAnd I began to worry, too. What if I wasn't good enough? What if, through all these years, I hadn't been worth it? But how could she leave me hanging now, at the most important part in our lives- in my life, at least- how could she do this?\n\n\"Say something,\" I mouthed, unable to speak. My dry throat caught any sound I could have made, and I coughed instead. She sighed.\n\nI raised my eyebrows at her, prompting her answer. Why wasn't she answering? It seemed like hours had passed, but I knew it to be only seconds. But if she didn't answer soon, my social life- and my real life, too, as I would fall prey to my depression- was doomed.\n\n\"Clara,\" I choked out. She raised her head, finally, and I saw her lips move.\n\n\"I- I do.\"\n\nThe audience erupted into cheers, and the pastor smiled in relief. \"You may now kiss the bride.\"\n\nAnd I did.\n", "5 minutes\n\nShe is probably in the bathroom\n\nShe is probably taking a shower\n\nShe might be on the phone with her mom\n\n\nOr Jake.\n\n10 minutes\n\n\nShe could be having coffee with Jake\n\n11 minutes\nOr giving him a blowjob\n\n\nno\n\n\n\nno\n\n\n\nno no\n\n\n\nShe is probably just in the bathroom or away from her phone\n\n\n\nmaybe she is taking a nap\n\n13 minutes\n\n\"Hey babe. Sorry I was busy, what's up?\"\n\n\nBusy...", "She left me hanging for what felt like an aeon. The oceans turned into clouds and the clouds turned into rain, the moon did laps around Earth, while Earth did laps around the sun, trees rose and fell, and mountains were created while others crumbled. All in those few minutes.\n\nI wanted to cry. How could she leave me hanging like this? Didn't she know how important this was to me, to us? I started to resent her. I could not understand how she could leave me hanging - I mean us - on such an important question.\n\nThe old sense of depression began to kick in. That sense of worthlessness. The loss of hope, the bleakness of everything that was to come. It had abated since she came into my life. Perhaps it wasn't the healthiest relationship, I wondered. Perhaps it wasn't so good to paper over the cracks in my life not by loving myself and healing myself, but by finding someone else to love me.\n\nBut she did love me, she had to love me, she had to always be there for me. Oh the selfishness of it all. How could I blame her for such an inconsiderate, such a hurtful and brutal pause? You bitch. And then I started to crumble as her head began to shake. \n\nI was on the verge of tears as she said, 'No, I'm sorry honey. I'm just not... look, I don't like Michael Bay movies. They're stupid. I mean the bit in Bad Boys 2, where they drive the Hummers through the Cuban ghetto and each corrugated, impoverished shack they plough through explodes because apparently every Cuban slum dweller is cooking coke; that was Bay at his most intelligent. Transformers 4? I'd rather drool into a cup for three hours.'\n\nI seethed at that moment. You bitch, I thought to myself." ]	5
	[WP] Kindergarten teacher by day, vampire hunter by night.	[ "I knelt next to the body of the latest victim; a woman, blonde, dressed in a spandex exercise outfit, and a recent kill. Very recent. Her blood still slick and liquid between my fingers even though her body was already cooling in the cool night air. She had been drained far more than just required for one vampire. The red, meaty ruin of her neck and wrists were no surprise, nor the thigh where the vampire had ripped into the victim's femoral artery. A group hunt, the hive working cooperatively to feed. I had suspected a hive for a while, but hadn't yet found a clear victim of multiple feeding. Her left ankle was broken, I noted as I ran my hands quickly over the victim looking for any clues. Nothing of the vampires on her, as had been the case with every victim so far. They were careful, whether feeding independently or together, cautious and old, most likely. The victim herself wasn't carrying much, just an ID and house key tucked into the zip pocket of her jogging suit. I shined the little red LED key chain light I held between my teeth at her driver's license.\n\nMary Benton.\n\nThe name was familiar. Mary Benton. \n\nOh, god, we had met just before this school started at a seminar on integrating special needs kids into the classroom. She had been so excited about getting her first classroom teaching kindergarten at JFK elementary. Her death hit home for me in a way a victim's had not in years. It scared me a little, too. Was it meant to? Did they know who I was, did they know I was hunting them? Was Mary Benton a message or just a tragic coincidence? I didn't have enough information to say. I stood above her body for a minute before stripping of my gloves and shoving them into my coat pocket. \n\nI left Mary's cold body behind and headed out of the alley; my head was too caught up by this new development that might meant nothing at all. After all, I rationalized, Mary Benton had been out jogging at night and that was pretty normal for victims, the fact that she taught kindergarten like I did might just no more than a sick coincidence. Something crunched under my foot. Something that stuck to the sole of my shoe. I looked down at the ground absently as I scraped the sole back and forth to knock whatever it was off and froze. Candy. \n\nSmarties, Dum Dums, Tootsie Rolls all scattered at the mouth of the alley. \n\nI heard something behind me, laughter. Soft at first, but growing louder as more of them joined in. My stomach twisted at the familiar sound. No wonder I hadn't found their den. I had been looking in all the wrong places when the answer had been right in front of me all along. The sweet, familiar sound of children's laughter rang in my ears as I turned to face them.", "Obligatory first post on subreddit sentence.\n\nIt was near the end of the day. I had been working in this teacher business for about 5 years. It had never been a very difficult job, because all the kids were very nice and well behaved.\nI was teaching the kids how to add. All of them were relatively smart students, so they got the hang of it quickly. I was at my desk surfing /r/WritingPrompts, when suddenly the lights shut off. \"Probably some problem with the power.\", I thought. I went to the switch and flicked it up and down, but to no avail. The kids were quite worried, as was I. I called the main desk and asked them what the problem was. She said they were not having the same problem. Just as I hung up, a black figure sped past the windows, terrifying the children. \"Get under the desks!\", I shouted. I had known exactly what was happening. I quickly ran to my desk and grabbed my wooden stake and garlic. I knew this wasn't going to be pretty. I looked at the door and saw nothing. Just as I turned and faced my desk, I saw him. It was Alexander, the one that had made my day a living hell since I started hunting these assholes. \"Nice to see you again! I hope you are prepared!\", he said. Just as I ran toward him he sped under Jessica's desk and grabbed her. Jessica was screaming like no other scream I had heard. \"Oh don't be scared! I just want to play.\", Alex announced. When he wasn't looking I attempted to stake him, but missed the heart. \"Oh, what a man! Taking shots while I'm not looking! Didn't your mother teach you how to fight properly?\", He yelled as he kicked my tooth out. At this point I was at the ground. My garlic had fallen to the other side of the room. He pinned me to the ground and I couldn't reach my stake. As he was about to bite me, Jessica had thrown a piece of garlic at him, distracting him as I grabbed the stake and penetrated his heart.", "\"Mr. Shadowslash, can I go to the bathroom?\" a small child asks her teacher.\n\n\"Not unless you have a hall pass, darling. Please wait for Cynthia to return,\" Mr. Shadowslash says.\n\n\"But hall passes suck, Mr. Shadowslash.\"\n\n\"Use not such profanity, child. Believe me, I've dealt with things that 'suck' much more than your situation.\"\n\n\"Like what, Mr. Shadowslash? \"\n\n\"Uh, look, you'll understand when you're older. See? Cynthia's back. Run along, love.\"\n\nMr. Shadowslash's eyes widen as his gaze falls upon a student who tinkers with a crossbow. Somehow, the student has successfully loaded a stake into that wretched contraption. As he blunders across fields of Legos and plastic dinosaurs, Mr. Shadowslash asks himself if saving the trip home for the evening's supplies is worth anything. Right now, Jeremy is going to kill either another student or the turtle, and Mr. Shadowslash will need to provide the PTA and its concomitant entities with a dissertation as to why death transpires in the kindergarten classroom (then be fired and arrested). \n\nHe snatches the crossbow from his student's hand, and all of these thoughts melt with an exhale. Mr. Weapon, you're never setting foot in here, again.", "Sylvia finished her coffee, put on her denim jumper, and tied the little bow on the front. Reaching into the drawer, she took out one of those hair picks, and teased her bubble into place, closed her eyes and sprayed. \nBefore leaving, she took a Tupperware container out of the fridge. Inside was tuna loaf, and apple, and some peanut butter crackers. She grabbed a diet soda from the back, and finally, put those in her tote bag. It had her kit in it, along with the lesson plan, and the extra pants she kept in the classroom for if a kid wet theirs. She'd had to wash them, after Allison wet her own pants first, then the extras. Yesterday was a real humdinger.\n\n\nShe checked the kit to make sure she had everything: stakes made of Ash wood-check; silver chains-check; garlic oil spray bottle-check; holy water gun-check; Bible, cross and rosary-check. That ought to do it.\nChecking her mirrors, she backed the avocado green Chevy paneled station wagon out of her garage and drove to the school.\n\n\nToday was library day, and she would be reading aloud from the \"Frog and Toad are friends\" book. Then, after recess, she would play them the record of \"Ferdinand the bull.\" At nap time, she'd check on Ms. White's class. \n\n\nMs. White was a young teacher- still in her twenties, she guessed. The short skirts and bouffant hair had raised a few eyebrows in the teacher's lounge. White had been out all week, and that awful substitute Mr.Randall was filling in. She couldn't stand the way he slurped his coffee and chain smoked. Never mind him, tough. She was sure she'd caught a glimpse of Gloria White ducking into a cab outside of the disco around one a.m. -just before she'd killed one of them and gone home. \n\n\nShe parked the car and walked briskly to the lounge, placing her lunch in the refrigerator. She poured a cup of black coffee into the unicorn mug one of the kid's from last year had given her. Looking at her watch, she decided to look in on the other classroom now, instead of later. She was hoping she would see Gloria sitting at the desk, but frowned when she saw Randall's mustachioed face and tweed jacket with leather elbow patches. For goodness sakes, this is Kindergarten, and he had to dress up like some Berkley professor. She thought he did it to try to impress Ms. Love, the third grade English teacher with the long brown curls. Yesterday he'd tried to tell them during lunch about the novel he was working on and suggested Ms. Love come over and read it sometime. \nOh, the look of discomfort on Love's face was clear enough to the rest of them, but that Randall kept at it. \n\n\nSylvia was glad to be older than, and not at all appealing to him. She'd had her day in the sun, so to speak, and been a married woman for many years. When Joseph was killed, everything had changed. They had got him. She saw it with her own eyes, yet knew no one would ever believe her. So, she'd gone along with the theory that ass had come forth with. Chief Whitney had surmised that the killer or killers were LSD crazed hippies- like that thing that happened to Sharon Tate a couple of years back- with that Manson. Then she'd grieved quietly for as long as she could, before getting very, very angry. Bill Whitney wasn't worth a damn at arresting regular crime, let alone the supernatural variety. She had to arrest it herself.\n\nSo, Sylvia Anne Morton, Kindergarten teacher, became a vampire hunter. Her routine was set now. School let out every day at two o'clock. She was home by Two-fifteen, changed into a house smock and watched All My Children. Then she slept until midnight and got up and ate-sometimes breakfast, sometimes dinner- whatever she was in the mood for. As soon she'd washed her dishes, she changed into black slacks with a comfortable elastic waistband, a dark shirt and tennis shoes. She'd drive out to the strip, where all the bars were, and wait for them to start coming out. \n\nTonight, she'd wait for Gloria. \n\n" ]	4
	[WP] You can't die until your name is spoken for the last time.	[ "It was such a simple wish. All I wanted was to live forever. A chance to see everything the world has to offer, the technology of the future. Truth be told, after a few hundred years there isn't much exciting happening. \n\nI thought I was so clever, building in an escape plan if I wanted to die. All I had to do was lay-low and everyone would forget my name. What a mistake that was.\n\n I'll admit it was my own fault, I should have known better than to bargain with a genie. \n\nThe numbers on the clock flipped around. \n\n6am. \n\nGround hogs day.\n\nAgain. Forever.", "Emily pointed to a picture of a little old lady, wrinkled in her rocking chair, knitting what appeared to be a sock. Or maybe it was a sweater. I couldn't really tell. \n\n\"Mommy, who is that lady?\" Her sweet little voice asked. I smiled, and flipped the picture over, the name barely registering in my mind. \"That's your great-great grandmother, sweetie,\" I said, and put the picture back in the box. I wasn't here to reminisce, I was looking for a baby picture of my mother- the woman's granddaughter. Emily picked up the colored picture I'd put back down and studied it, flipping the page over. My little 5 year old scrunched up her beautiful blue eyes and read out loud, sounding out the words, \"Lou... Louis... Lou-Louise Rog-Rogers... Mommy, that's Nana's last name!\" \"Of course it is, darling.\" I dumped more pictures out, flipping through them in a hurry. I didn't realize we'd have so many pictures of this woman. I'd never met her. My mother barely remembers her grandmother. I wonder if I should throw them out.\n\nEmily grabbed hold of a handful, her studious face lighting up. \"Mommy, Mommy! Louise doesn't look wrinkly in this picture. Look, she has your eyes! They're blue, like yours! Mommy, look!\" She whined. Knowing that my daughter wears her heart on her sleeve, I really wanted to tell her that Sweetie, Mommy didn't care, but I obliged and gave it a quick glance. \n\nHuh, I guess we do share the same cobalt-blue eyes. And face shape. And hair color. And cheekbones. That's weird, I'd never looked that closely at my great-grandmother's old pictures... \"Can I keep them?\" Emily asked, her whole face lighting up. \"Why, Em?\" \"Because I want to. And she's pretty, like you are. I wanna grow up to be just like you. And her. And Nana. And Aunt Marie. And-\" \"Yes, love, you can put them with your other pictures.\" Excited, she ran off with an armful of pictures, I presume to go show her father. \n\nRolling my eyes, I got back to my search. \"Louise...\" I muttered, setting aside another old photo for Em. \n\nA faint, little voice whispered in my ear, stuttering. Louise Rogers... Another, stronger voice, quietly whispered, Louise... I hadn't felt a jolt like this since I died... Oh, I wish I could be left alone. But I'm terrified. I hadn't quite entered the eternal abyss of darkness, as terrifyingly comforting as it may seem. I longed to join my ancestors to keep watch over the family and generations I've created but I'll never meet, just like the people in my family before me... They're long forgotten, and I hope that I will be too one day...\n\nMy name isn't murmured again until what feels like an eternity later, with the resounding finality that I've longed for. A clear, sweet vision of relief lets me see the last time my name is whispered.\n\nA young woman is in a hospital bed, clearly worn out, a man and woman by her side. In her arms is a wrinkled bundle of skin with a bright pink cap. \"What is her name?\" Another woman in green asks, holding a pen and paper. \"Louise,\" the exhausted young lady in the bed says, smiling, looking at her newborn child, not even an hour old. \n\nAnd then I realize, my name is not my name anymore... It belongs to my great-great-great granddaughter... I can finally rest. And watch over the new little girl that now carries the name that was mine.\n\nLouise...", "I wasn't afraid anymore. I knew that there wouldn't be anything to fear.\n\nI watched the pyre burn high, so high it made mountains seem like marbles, so great was the amount of accelerant I had poured onto the pile.\n\nHands, eyes, tongues, so many tongues. I was going to miss the talks with my father, hearing my sister laugh, listen to my mother sing. Hearing my best friend Kyle tell his dirty jokes, or my girlfriend tell me how much she loves me.\n\nBut I had all the time in the world to get over it.", "\"Today, we will remember the death of a loved one. Timothy wouldn't want us to mourn his death, but to remember his acts and life. Every one of us sitting in this room today have been affected, and have affected this great man.\" The man paused to wipe a tear.\n\n\"Sadly, we have to say goodbye to him, last week.\" \n\nTimothy stared at the church. On one side, he wishes he could greet them again. On the other, he can't wait to truly 'die', so he can visit the much better life awaiting him. ", "\"Remember, once I grant you beauty you are bound to one unforeseen consequence, do you accept?\"\nCarrie sighed, \"Yes, make me live eternally, kill me instantly, take away my health, it matters not - just make me beautiful.\"\nQuite rapidly, Carrie felt her body shift slightly, realign along a more desirable figure, and touch up on any blemishes and imperfections. Her original form was not undesirable, and the transformation was not great physically, but within the five minutes it took to complete there was a sudden positive increase in her mental state. \nCarrie felt her hands around her new body and face, she didn't need to look in the mirror for this, she knew the elder would deliver. \n\"Now, Carrie, before I leave you, I can reveal your condition is one where you cannot die until your name is spoken for the very last time.\"\nAnother spike in her mental welfare, brilliant an easy condition. \"And, well will I know that?\"\nWalking away the elder replied \"You will not.\"\nCarrie thought about this for a while, in a way this gave her control on the matter, having a new form her plan was to reinvent her life anyway so using a pseudonym wasn't so odd either. If she had no one refer to her as Carrie she wouldn't have to worry about her fate falling upon her unawares. \nThis succeeded for three years, Carrie - Melissa - enjoyed much success in her desired modelling career and had numerous lovers but it was always empty affairs. This didn't bother her, she wasn't looking for love, she wanted adoration and attention and she had it, however falsely. \nAs part of her successful career 'Melissa' had began a path into low level acting. Relaxing in her apartment, her phone rang, her agent on the other end had a role in line. \n\"Mellie, brilliant news! Brilliant, brilliant news!\"\n\"Yes? What have I landed?\"\n\"Mel, you won't believe it Whedon is doing a remake of the Stephen King classic, and you have the top role!\"\n\"You don't mean to say I'll be playing...\"\n\"Carrie! Isn't this amazing?! What a break!\"\nThe phone hung limply at the other end, Carrie lifeless on the couch.\n\"Hello? Mel?... Melissa?\"\n\nEdit: word shuffle\n", "I never should have spoken to the damn gypsy.\n\nThat’s really where the problems started. That’s the reason for why I’m stuck here now, naked and wandering somewhere between the Andromeda Galaxy and the Triangulum Galaxy. At least I didn’t wander into a star or a black hole yet, so I can enjoy the visuals. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time, though.\n\nTime. Time. I have all of that to spare. I’m so old at this point I don’t think most calculators could display my age (as if there is anything that can be called a calculator anymore). I’m fairly certain that my perception of time has sped up, too, but it's hard to tell in the inky blackness that surrounds me.\n\nEveryone thinks that immortality is so great. “You get to live forever! Who wouldn’t want that?” I remember my wife saying that, however many billions of years ago. I thought I was smarter than her. “Immortality would get boring pretty quick,” I said. “You’d only want to live for as long as there were people around to talk about you.”\n\nAnd so you can imagine I thought I was the most brilliant man alive when I rescued that man from a mugger on the street. And it wasn’t even with good intentions. That I realize now. I thought I’d end up in the papers; thought I’d at least be a minor celebrity for a bit. People would think me so heroic. Damn young fool I was!\n\nOh yes, I said that I thought I was brilliant. As it turns out, the hobo claimed himself to be some sort of “gypsy warlock” or something. Said that he could use magic, and could make any dream I wanted to come true. And this is where we come to the immortality bit, and my supposed “brilliance.” I didn’t want immortality. I just wanted to be famous for as long as possible. And that’s where my wish came from. “I wish that I couldn’t die until my name was spoken for the last time.” That’s how I phrased it, thinking that it would be flawless. I thought it was logical; I’d be around for as long as anyone cared. And then when I was finally a nobody again I could pass.\n\nWell, I definitely can’t pass. That much he had delivered on. But the specifics, it seemed, were ignored. I haven’t met another soul for billions and billions and billions of years. I can’t possibly know how long it’s been. And yet here I am, floating along endlessly, waiting for the end of the universe to finally come. Whenever that will be. But then, I don’t even know if that will finally end this misery.\n\nIt was pleasant enough at first. I, of course, did become a sensation. Quite easily the most famous person in history. Because I couldn’t die. It wouldn’t happen. Even if I sustained an injury, somehow it’d heal up. I was like goddamn Deadpool. I’d like to say that I did good things with this power, but that would be a lie. I just rolled in money and fame. But after a few thousand years I got… bored. I didn’t have any meaning beyond just being. People even stopped caring about me, and my wife had died millennia ago. I realized how much I wanted death. But I couldn’t have it. However much I was no longer in the public eye people still remembered me occasionally. I was someone’s school report, or mentioned every few months on that website that took over half the Internet… Reading It or something. I don’t even remember. And then thousands of years became millions. People had been changing. Humanity wasn’t humanity anymore. They were something different. But I was the same. And with that I became famous again, an oddity, and after repeating over the eons I had no idea how long it would take before I’d finally, truly, become forgotten.\n\nI thought I’d finally see my death when the Sun turned red and the seas cooked and the Earth became a barren rock. But I was still alive. I was the only thing still alive when the Sun exploded. I was still alive as I was hurtled into space amidst the debris of my home planet. And I was still alive as I flew through space, even now. \n\nWhy? \n\nHow? \n\nIt shouldn’t have been this way. I shouldn’t be alive anymore. There’s no one left! Everyone is dead. No one knows my name anymore. Billions and billions of years and I have never even met an extraterrestrial. Could there be some other species that picked up our radio signals and screams my name to some alien moon every night as a cruel joke? No one else knows my name! No one else knows who I am! No one else…\n\nNo one else…\n\nNo one else.\n\nI need to find a planet with an atmosphere.", "Thooduno Thooduno Thooduno. Uuduno Uuduno Uuduno. Vuduno Vuduno Vuduno. Oh hello. Sorry don't mind me. Listen, its a bit of a story to explain what I'm doing so maybe... okay sure, I've got time. Some time ago, I crossed my village's oracle. I stole a little idol from her hut. She had like 80, I didn't think she'd notice. Well, she did. And she cursed me.\n\nIt sounds like such a minor thing now, but back then her curses were legendary. Every single one came true in the most horrific way possible. And to me she said \"You will hear your name 3 times. Upon the 3'rd you will die.\" I could feel it. She was right. Somehow that dirty witch wove those words into my very being. So I did the only thing I could think of. I ran.\n\nI went from village to village, giving a fake name. I'd never stay anywhere more than a few years, always treated as an outsider. Communities used to be very insular, very distrustful of outsiders. So I'd stay until the murmurs of a mob forming would start, then on to the next town. But soon I started to realize how many times I had done this. So many town. I couldn't even remember them all. How long had I been wandering? I never have been able to figure it out.\n\nAs time went on, I've been attacked, I've been drowned, I even got sealed inside a friggin iron maiden for what I assume to be the better part of a generation. It all hurts, I feel every bit of gnawing hunger pang or sharp screaming pain from an injury, but I'm never hurt. I don't die. I CAN'T die. Not until I hear my name three times. I think that witch KNEW what she was doing. She knew what would happen. All I would want is to finally end this wandering existence... but I've forgotten. I've forgotten my name. So now I spend my eternity trying every combination of syllables. My entire life is such a blur that I forget most of my mother-tongue, but I figure every guttural combination of syllables possible with a human mouth should cover it.\n\nFrom my figuring, I'm about 1/5000'th of the way through all possible combinations, going up through 6 syllables. But hey... I've got time. If you'll excuse me.\n\nWooduno Wooduno Wooduno. Xuduno Xuduno Xuduno. Yooduno Yooduno Yooduno.....\n\n---\n\nAs always, constructive criticisms to help me improve are welcome. I will also accept glowing praise or childish name calling.", "He felt himself slipping as he had so often done before. Slipping onward towards freedom. \nTowards death. \nThis time he got longer than he could remember ever coming. Maybe it was finally over. \nIt had been over 50 years. Why would they not let him die. \nHe was almost there. Almost complete free. \nThen he was dragged back to the purgatory he was so familiar with. \nA small screen appeared and he could see what had ripped him back again: \n\"Lol, fuk u hitler faggot.\"" ]	8
	[WP] You have been cursed. For 24 hours, any figurative language you use becomes reality. Try to survive the day.	[ "12 a.m. and drunk again. That’s the start of this day. This day is mine, my day but I’m fucking passed out. Snoring for life. Unemployed, drunk as a depressed skunk and stealing my employed wife from sleep. Not that she gives a damn; tomorrow is her day off. So I passed out but not until that bitch drank a quart of vodka. But I don’t know any of that. Don’t tell her. I’m in the black. \n\nAnd at 9:00 a.m. the next Saturday some Mormon prick rings my doorbell. He rings it again. And again. And that hopeless motherfucker rings the bell again! I wake up to it. I’m pissed by it and refuse to answer. But that skinny virgin prick in a white button up JC Penney shirt hits that button another time! A tenth time, a hundredth, for all I know. These fucking dudes are like Vikings with trebuchets; so I relent and stumble in the general direction of my front door.\n\nBright eyed idiot greets me with the standard order: “Hello, friend. Would you like to hear the story of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ?” I’m still drunk. I still think I’m smart. “Yep, tell me oh dudes from JC Penney, tell me.!” But they don’t laugh. They don’t retreat. Instead they step uncomfortably near my threshold.\n\nThey continue, eventually they seem nice enough. We drink water and speak around my coffee table. Apparently a magic carpenter walked on water then got himself killed. All so I could spend death in eternal bliss. Or in agony depending on whether I believed these guys or not. They were so clearly full of shit, and so unbearably nice I couldn’t think of a way to get rid of them. I desperately need Gatorade and pepto. So I just laid the shit out.\n\n“Fellas, this seems really cool. I’d like to talk to Jesus, see what he’s all about. But I’m just too hungover to talk about it.” And that’s the hook.\n \n Hungover…a common colloquialism but what does it mean? Is it even a figure of speech? The Mormons didn’t care. \n\nThey threw me over my own damn coffee table, belly first. Mormons are believers, and strong. They tie my hands behind my back and I feel the rope hang coarsely around my throat. \n\n“hungover, hungover. Hang the man over,” they chant as they tied me down on the table. The largest Mormon threw the other end of the rope over a ceiling beam, and he confidently wrapped it around his thick forearm. He tugs against the beam. I re into the air. The ropes tighten…\n\nMy wife runs in, screaming obscenities. “Fuck Me!,” she screamed, “What have you done?!”. She hadn’t realized how literal the day had become. \n\nMy eyes tighten and swell and bulge, filled with blood as I watch the Mormons fuck her over and over. The lights begin to dim, and with all the strength I can muster, I whimper “turn the lights off.” \n", "She slowly traced my hands to my wrist, drawing both hands into hers. Slowly she let go and kiss me on the check, \"We have to go pick up our kids from my parents.\"\n\nNot the answer I want to hear.\n\n\"Babe, I'll move a mile a minute,\" I whispered and slipped my finger in and out **Of her Belly Button, pointing to the bedroom to do our taxes. In a second, I moving inches with each *HUGGG. Eyes closed, I opened only what seemed like seconds later.\n\nShe lay lifeless, in a scene that looked like a murder scene. It was like the drapes were on fire. \n\n\"Fuck\"\n\nThere wasn't time to figure out how my wife was suddenly dead. No time to figure out how the drapes caught fire. I knew what this looked like. It looked like a homicide. It looked like I slipped a razor pointed Whoops* into her time after time again. I needed to leave.\n\nI ran like a serial killer after an ice cream truck.\n\nEventually I caught up and looked the driver in the eye.\n\nHe stared back with the eyes of a wolf. He stuck his raptor-like hand out the window and asked, \n\"How can I help you? I'm not a taxi\"\n\n\"Well, how about I buy some ice cream and you give me a ride to my sister's? It's about to rain cats and dogs. I need to be inside\".\n\n\"Well, if she's right up the street, I'll take care of you. Otherwise you're fucked like a virgin going to prom. You'll be stoned like Jesus.\"\n\nI extended my hand with all the money to my name. It was only fifty cents.\n\nThe animal-like man grabbed the change, \"You're about three dollars too short\"\n\nHe drove off like a bat out of hell.\n\nThats when the golden retriever fell from the sky.\n\nThat's when the tabby broke my foot.\n\nWhen I looked down I saw heels.\n\nIn between pure breeds splattering in the street, ancients emerged from the houses with stones.\n\nDown the street came the football team.\n\nI looked at my phone to call 911. It was 12:01. I ran a mile a minute. I called the cops and they came faster than a priest at a playground. But something was different now.", "Eva sighed as she gazed lifelessly at those small steel bars. Lots of thoughts went through her mind as she was surrounded by four cement walls. Her life was different not too long ago.\n\nShe is the best saleswoman in town. But to be the best, she lies. And the customers don’t find out until much later, past the time where they are allowed refunds. The “policy” says 30 days however the fine print says that she has to contact them for them to get their refund. And the only time she speaks to them is at the door. \n\nShe got the common threats as a door to door saleswoman. People say they will egg her car, destroy her family, and kill her. But the letter she got one day was the most ominous one of all. It read: \"Your sales pitch is about to change. There are no refunds allowed for this transaction\". After reading the letter, Eva felt lightheaded, but blamed it on the hot weather. After finishing up reading the mail from the previous day, Eva left for work.\n\nHer product depends on the needs of the customer; Eva has lots of cheap products to accommodate any customer. The first apartment she approached was in a low income neighborhood. She scoffed, “What a dump,” Suddenly a foul stench surrounded her. As she turned around to find the source, she found her new location to be in the middle of a trash heap. She turned around again to see that a mountain of garbage replacing the apartment she just saw. She got in her car and drove to her next location in disbelief at what happened. \n\nShe went to a neighborhood with nice homes to fatten her wallet to make her forget about the garbage disaster. As she opened the door, a blast of hot air hit her with full force. “It’s like a furnace out here”. A large furnace appeared in front of her, sweat started pouring from her. She screamed as her gold earrings began to melt in her hair. “Ugh! I wish it was winter instead of summer” The furnace disappeared and snow began coming from the sky. Taking a few moments to collect herself, she approached the house. An obese man answered. Perfect. She thought. I’m going to get every penny I can from this fatty. She began:\n\n “Hello there sir! May I take a few minutes of your time?” The sky got a bit lighter.\n\n“Not too long. I’m not a fan of salespeople”.\n\n“Oh this won’t take long. I’ve noticed an issue you have”.\n\nThe man blinked and sighed. “I was just diagnosed with diabetes earlier this week”.\n\nEva grinned. “I can fix that! I used to be three times your size” Eva had to take a moment to breathe, as her clothes suddenly got tighter. “But after taking this product, I got skinny as a rail”. She was able to breathe again, but her clothes got really heavy and she felt really hungry and tired. As the man stared at her blankly, a woman’s voice called. “Honey! All of our money is gone! Not even a penny is left!” As the wife approached, Eva’s pockets poured out an endless amount of pennies. She yelled: “I didn’t you’re your pennies, I wanted your money!” The pennies transformed to bills. “What is going on? Is that mine?” Eva grabbed what she could and said “I don’t have to answer you, you’re not a cop”. The man reached behind his belt and pulled out a gun. “Actually, I am”. \n\nAs good as a saleswoman as she was, she still ended up in solitary. Along with the money they found, the cops found her cheap products in her apartment, along with money and the fake contracts. Time seemed to go by slowly, she couldn’t tell. When the next meal was handed to her, so was an envelope, she put in her bra to read later. As the hours passed by, Eva finally realized her own language has been causing her to have this horrible day. She cried, and then laughed manically. I can get whatever I want. She screamed what she has wanting to scream since she first got into jail. “I want to be anywhere but here!” The sun blinded her briefly; she looked around to see that she was in the desert. She laughed as she knew she could just say what she wanted. She said she wanted a house with lots of money and an amazing husband. However, nothing happened. She remembered the letter. It read: \"Your product will be used up approximately 24 hours after opened”. It was 9am when she read the first letter. Her watch now read 9:01am.\n", "It started the day after some crazy old lady cursed me on the street. She said that for 24 hours, any figurative language I used would become reality. Of course, I thought she was crazy.\n\nWhen I woke up this morning, preparing to leave for work, I couldn’t find my car keys. When I said out loud that it was like trying to find a needle in a haystack, my apartment magically filled up with hay, which I happen to be deathly allergic to. Fortunately, I found my way out of the place before I got covered in it.\n\nSo, with an apartment full of hay and no car, I decided to go over to my neighbor’s place. I knew she had the day off, and as we were pretty good friends, I decided to spend the day with her. Of course, I didn’t tell her about the curse.\n\nWe decided we’d go grab some coffee. That was my first mistake. I should have avoided any situation that might have forced me to speak more than necessary. As we sat there, she struck up a conversation.\n\n“Hey, Will, did you hear that Bettie and Sean got together? Can you believe that?”\n\n“No way,” I said. “They’d be about as good of a couple as we’d be. I mean, seriously, they can’t even stand the sight of…”\n\nMy speech was cut off by her hand leaping across the table, taking hold of mine. It was then that I realized my mistake. Oh well, too late. When she went to the bathroom, I pulled out my phone and sure enough there were pictures of us doing things together as a couple. In fact, when I saw that, I felt something inside my jacket. Which freaked me out, as I hadn’t been wearing a jacket earlier. A reminder popped up letting me know that “the plan was on” for later.\n\nI made a vow then and there that I’d watch what I said. When she came back, we left the coffee shop and went for a stroll in the park, her holding my arm the whole time. I honestly never thought we’d make a good couple, but as I walked around with her, it kind of just felt right.\n\nThe rest of the day went by splendidly. I think the magic had started to affect me too, as I found myself following the schedule and proposing to her later that night. When she said yes, I was so excited. As we laid in bed that night, she brought up the subject of children.\n\n“Will, how many children do you want to have?” she asked.\n\n“The day I decide to be a father will be the day that pigs fly.”\n\nShe broke down and started to cry. As I grabbed her and held her, she said something through her tears.\n\n“I’m… I’m pregnant.”\n\nWhen she said that, I knew that it had to be done. I suddenly got out of bed, grabbed the remote, and turned on the TV. Sure enough, reports of pigs flying right off the farm were coming from all around the world. Thanks to my careless words, pigs apparently could fly.\n\n“What’s wrong?” she asked.\n\nI then explained to her the curse, failing to mention the part where we got together.\n\n“It’s just that I’m so embarrassed, I could literally die right here and now.”\n\nI didn’t even realize what I was doing. In fact, that was one of the reasons I thought we’d never be a good couple. She always hated it when people misused literally and figuratively. Without another second to spare, she came up and grabbed my throat. In an ungodly show of strength, she crushed my throat as I laid on the floor literally dying.\n\nWhen everything faded, I thought I had died. But I woke up and was alive. When I went over to her place, she was there like nothing had happened. I found myself still feeling the same way about her, but before I could say anything, she ran up and showed me her new ring that her boyfriend had given her. And that was when I wished that I had literally died.\n\n-190" ]	4
	[WP] A prepper and his family evacuated to a remote bug out location. 12 months later and supplies running low he risks venturing into the outside world only to discover he has made the biggest mistake of his life.	[ "Kate warily opened the vault door, steeling herself for anything that might await her on the other side. They had all heard the screams, the rumbling, the deafening crashes for months on end. Who knew what would still be out there, one year after the apocalypse?\n\nStill, they no longer had a choice. Food was running out and her family wouldn't survive another week. They had to go out and forage for something, anything, that could help them last just a little bit longer.\n\nAs light poured in from the outside, Kate signaled for her husband to stay back. She took a step forward, then two, then three; her handheld Geiger counter kept mercifully quiet. Suddenly, she gasped. There was something on the ground ahead of her, right at the mouth of the small cave their fallout shelter had been built into.\n\nKate took one more step, eyeing the form carefully. She stood there for long moments as her husband and their children cowered in the darkness of the vault. Minutes later, after the figure had showed no sign of movement, she gently prodded it with her shoe. Its head rolled off, then crumbled half to dust.\n\nShe froze. It was a corpse. Burnt to a crisp and battered by the elements, but it was recognizable as human. Her heart wrenched in her chest. It was far too small to be an adult. But thankfully, it couldn't hurt her family, and that's what counted--\n\nHer blood ran cold.\n\nKate quickly turned around. Her husband was there, along with her nephews, nieces, daughters and sons. 9 in total. There had always been 9. Her safety number. But now something was different, as if she'd just remembered something she should have known all along. In her initial panic, she had counted her husband. But Peter didn't count. He wasn't part of the 9. They had been missing one child all along.\n\nKate turned back to the desiccated corpse in front of her. In horrific realization, she clasped her cheeks and screamed.\n\n\"KEVIN!\"" ]	1
((ALT: They can also be sold.))	[WP] Your skills and talents can be given as gifts. You will lose them, but can work to build up that skill again from scratch.	[ "The shop was noisy and smelled of old oil, gasoline, and engine cleaner. Mark really didn't want to be there, but he didn't have much of a choice. His son had made this choice for him. He knew he shouldn't be bailing his son out yet again, but even to somebody like Mark, blood is blood.\n\nHe was flanked by a pair of bruiser-types that led him to a guy who, apart from a bit of grease on his hands, was unusually clean for this place. He was also fairly skinny, and didn't look like he'd built up calluses for the tools he was using, as he'd wince once in a while when really putting some torque on a wrench. Still, despite not having the physical attributes of a mechanic, he'd fairly skillfully taken apart the engine of a classic Mustang, and was scrutinizing each part for imperfections.\n\n\"Mechanics, musicians, politicians, magicians,\" the young man said, looking up from the engine. \"Everyone needs something, and everyone has something to offer.\" He looked Mark over for a moment, offered his right hand. Mark took the kid's hand cautiously, but found the other's grip firm and confident.\n\nAfter shaking hands for a bit longer than Mark was comfortable with, the mechanic let his hand go. \"So. You're not a laborer. You don't have the gait of an athlete, and you don't have the hands of a skilled worker. I'm betting you're not a musician, and I know all of the politicians in this town, so what is it you've come to trade, hm?\"\n\nMark nodded. Right to business. \"I'm a programmer.\"\n\n\"Ah! Programmer! Not a very fun skill, but it is useful. Always in demand, programming. So, what brings you to me, Mr. Programmer?\" The kid grabbed a towel and started cleaning his hands.\n\n\"I need money,\" Mark replied, simply.\n\n\"Ok. Ok. Mr. Programmer needs money. How much money do you need, Mr. Programmer?\" Finished wiping his hands, he held the towel out to Mark.\n\n\"One hundred thousand.\"\n\n\"Hundred thousand?\" The kid whistled. \"That's quite a bit, Mr. Programmer. Get yourself in some trouble? You know what? Doesn't matter. You've got a skill, I've got the coin, and you came here to trade. Why should I question your motives?\" The kid looked over to one of his henchmen, who pulled out a few stacks of bills. It's almost surprising how little space a hundred thousand dollars takes up when neatly stacked.\n\n\"How's that look, Mr. Programmer?\" the kid asked, still holding the towel out for his guest. Mark finally took it, and cleaned his hand of the grease his young host smeared across it when first they shook.\n\n\"Looks good. Just one question.\" The younger tilted his head and waved an indication for Mark to continue. \"I'll be able to get my skills back, right?\"\n\nThe young man chuckled. \"Of course! There are two ways. You can either learn the skills all over again, or you can come back with money and buy your skills back. With interest, of course.\"\n\n\"Then let's do this.\" Mark held out his hand, and the younger man took it.\n\n---\n\nMark's son hadn't said a word to him on the drive home. No thank you, nothing. Mark hadn't said much either. Neither said a word as they went in to the house. His son watched as he sat at his computer for half an hour without even turning it on. He watched as his father struggled to do even the most basic things. He watched as his father hunted and pecked on the keyboard.\n\nThe next morning, as Mark woke up, he found his son sitting at the kitchen table. His son stood, looked his father in the eye for the first time since he started using. \"I'm going to rehab today. Dad... I'm sorry. For everything.\"\n\nMark looked in his son's eyes and nodded. \"I know, son. I know.\"", "Ella sat in the empty locker room, her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. She tried her best to muffle the sobs that escaped her mouth, but it was simply impossible. Twenty kilometres. She'd never make it. Ella knew she couldn't run that far, and she knew that she couldn't drop out of the race without being teased. She looked up, then heard the door squeak open and buried her face again. She couldn't let anyone see that she had been crying. She'd be laughed at for days. The redhead heard the footsteps of somebody walking over and sitting down next to her. A hand came down on her shoulder. \n\n\"Ella? Are you okay?\"\nIt was Jessica Mitchell. Of course. Of all people to come in, it had to be the best runner on the squad. She was coaching today - this was evident by her bright yellow training shirt. Only coaches wore them. Ella knew she would never feel that same fabric on her skin. She looked up at Jessica, knowing that her blue eyes would be bloodshot and her face tearstained. \"I'm not okay. I can't do this. I'm not good enough. I can't run that far.\" \n\nWithout saying another word, Jessica reached for Zella's left wrist and felt around for the tiny soft spot of skin that she knew would be there. She dug her nail into the skin and Ella yelped, but didn't pull away. She felt a tightening sensation pull over her entire body, and finally pulled her arm out of Jessica's grip. \n\n\"What did you just do?\"\n\n\"You'll see. Now get out there and win for me.\"\n", "\"So what do you do for work?\" \n\n\"I'm a trainer,\" I say with a smile. I always say it with a smile. I hope it takes the edge off. \n\nIt doesn't. \"Oh.\" Silence. \"Are...you working on any contracts?\" \n\n\"Well, yeah, actually. I'm working on ballet for a debutante and on the side I'm learning Brazilian for a businesswoman.\"\n \nShe can see my eyes light up with excitement, and it draws her in for another second. \"Do you enjoy it? Training?\" \n\n\"I love ballet.\" \n\n\"No, but - training. Do you like doing training?\" \n\nI have never had anyone ask me that, before. \n\nAnd what can I say to that? I don't know. I don't remember. I like ballet. I like Brazilian. I like feeling my heart race and my body ache when I get home every night. I like feeling the words roll off of my tongue in new ways. But that's not training. \n\nSo I just say, \"Yeah. I think I do,\" unconvincingly, and that's the last I see of her. I know it will be. \n\nInstead of waiting for a call I go to the studio, put on my shoes and start stretches. Positions. Do the routines. I open the windows and stay up too late, forgetting all the other people in the city that it's impossible to connect with. How do you find someone with similar interests and skills when your skills are temporary and your interests are bought? I practice until I'm drenched with sweat and my body is exhausted. \n\nI dance every day this week. I don't even meet my language tutor. I go to the studio early and I meet with the other dancers. We kick our instructor out one day - the first time any of us every have - and dance whatever we want. We dance together, to rap and rock and anything. We laugh until my face is tired. We complain about our feet and our aching muscles, but I'm not sad. I dance. \n\nMy last night (morning?) in the studio is a Friday, and it is 2 AM. I let my mind wander while I fly through the moves. My body glides within the music and I am completely comfortable in my skin. There is a sense of wholeness, of balance, of grace. The music enters my head as pictures of motion, color, shapes, action, and it leaves me as movement. I do this routine over and over again. I want to get it perfect. It's my last night, and I want it to be perfect. I briefly consider putting off the exchange for another week. I could know this better. Something feels off in the last pirouette - but that's my knee, not my brain.\n\nI can't. \n\nI drag my feet the whole way to the exchange appointment. I'm late - I make myself late. I submit to the exam for the girl and her grandmother - I do the stretches, the positions, the routine. I give her some pointers for her physical training - she won't get my great legs, just my experience. \n\n\"You're going to love this,\" I say to her with a smile. \n\nI get in my chair and she gets in hers and someone flips a switch - in a minute, it's over. She sits up in her chair and invites me over to the studio, to go through the routine together. \n\nI shoulder my bag. \"No, thanks. I don't like dancing.\" ", "The dogs were coming.\n\nI wasn't sure I was going to make it, but the Trainings were holding up. My Athletics were nearly through the roof, thanks to Tony. My Endurance was on an equal level thanks to Natasha.\n\nI spared a glance backwards through the forest and used my infrared goggles to scope out the pursuit. No helicopters yet, so I had chosen the correct day. The dogs were chasing a few false trails, but at least one or two were coming.\n\nI Strategized a few moments. I Mapped a few more. Each Training had come at a steep price, but my comrades had chosen to pay it. I found a path, and I believed I could make it. \n\nRunning through the woods in pale moonlight is not an easy task. It takes training, it takes practice, and it takes Agility. Luckily I had all three in spades, so I reached the nearby (nearby being a relative term) farm well ahead of pursuit. All heat signatures were in the main building, some asleep, at least two were... well, not asleep. But the barn-like garage was empty and cold. \n\nLockpicking had been one of my first surreptitiously acquired Trainings, and this lock was fairly trivial by even civilian standards. Also, it was unlocked, so that was convenient. Inside the very spacious building was a motorcycle, a tractor, a truck, and various pieces of farming equipment. \n\nI gave the motorcycle a once over, inspected the gas levels, and hotwired it. Time being of the essence, I forwent the chance to scout for any more gear in the barn and hopped on the bike. Infrared told me nobody had been roused by the starting engine, the dogs were not in sight anymore, and I looked to be in the clear. \n\nI revved the engine and checked the gas gauge. It was nearly full, as it should have been. Jane's Strategizing had let her guess the bike was filled every third Friday of the month when the farmer's son went to town. So naturally here I am, stealing it that night.\n\nI Mapped my route again and Drove off after removing the infrared goggles. The driveway was short, the road was well paved, and I was soon a bat out of a nearly literal hell. I would repay the Training Camps. I would punish those people we were forced to give Training to. Years spent honing skills we would never enjoy full use of. Years spent torturing ourselves so that rich people could Skate or Translate, so that the state could gift their officers with Shooting or CQC training.\n\nThe indignation was a dull smouldering flame at this point. My friends would be dead by now; that's what they did to traitors who gave their Trainings without permission. But I would use the skills and experiences of a hundred lifetimes to make it right.", "It was a glittering turquoise crystal, with smoke seemingly trapped within. The wisps slowly danced throughout the orb. At their center, the faintest of glimmers could be seen within.\n\n\"I can't take this.\" said the boy.\n\n\"You must.\" said the woman.\n\n\"I don't deserve it. It's yours. You earned it.\" tears were starting at the corners of his eyes.\n\n\"It's mine to give, and now yours to take.\" she sighed, and the edge of her words faded. \"It is more than a gift. It is a promise, an oath. Knowledge is power, and power is not without its price.\"\n\nThe boy sat thoughtfully. The light within the crystal was pulsing faintly. He could almost hear it whispering the secrets of its trade.\n\n\"I cannot take this to my grave. There is an obligation to my prowess. It demands to be used, and used well. It is given in good spirit but it must too be used in good spirit.\" the woman closed her eyes before she spoke again. \"It will cause you much pain.\"\n\nThe boy startled. \"It will hurt me?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" she whispered. \"It will take your freedom, in exchange for a destiny. It will burden you by enlightenment. Every choice you make will be influenced by it. There will be days that you curse it with all your heart.\"\n\n\"But,\" she continued. \"It will also guide you through trying times. It will give you the strength to stand when others cannot help but fall. With it, you can protect those you love.\"\n\nThe boy seemed more unsure than ever. The crystal's pulsing had quickened with his heart beat. The smoky cloud within became turbulent.\n\n\"It is a great burden, and for that, I apologize. You should not have to choose so young.\"\n\nThe crystal's shine grew dimmer, its pulse slowed. It should've been his mother's, but with her gone, it fell to him. He could feel the old woman's eyes on him. He could feel her hope. She had held it for far too long.\n\n\"I understand. I'll take it.\" One tear fell from his curly eyelashes.\n\n\"Thank you, and may the gods have mercy upon us both.\" she answered, while putting her hand on his head.\n\nHe took the marble into him, and felt its wisdom blossom. The smoke filled his lungs until he breathed knowledge, until he choked upon it. It was bitter, and learned from hard experience. Centuries of failure filled him, but so did the brilliant flashes of success. He knew what it was to learn the universes' laws and patterns. He discovered how to organize them, and best use them to his advantage.\n\nThe smoke faded from his lungs. He felt filled, yet so hollow. Wisdom had already begun to take its toll. Childhood fantasies had evaporated under the harsh scrutiny of experience. He knew of death, and its permanence. He knew of age, and famine, and plague, and the universes' great indifference towards the plight of humans.\n\nThe old woman sat slackly, her vigor gone out. She was a drooling husk now. It was her reward for a lifetime of service and struggle. It was everyone's reward, to die no matter how they lived.\n\nNo. came a gentle voice, came a thousand gentle voices.\n\nYou are Our reward. You, and those that will follow you. We all must die, but We desire to leave our mark upon the world, to be useful. Now it is up to you. Go forth and struggle. Go, and do good, so that you may die happily.\n\nAnd so the boy did." ]	5
	[WP] In an alternate earth, Adam and Jamie use real, live humans in their mythbusting.	[ "Adam blabbered on to the camera about the science behind their methods as Jamie rolled his eyes and finished assembling their experiment. Somehow, Jamie always ended up doing the dirty work. \nAfter stitching up the last piece, Jamie stood up and joined Adam at the camera. \n\"Remember folks,\" Jamie rumbled. \"all of our participants are fully willing.\" \n\nAdam tried to hide his smile. Everyone on the set knew it was a lie. They simply picked the homeless and prostitutes that no one would remember ever existing. \n\nThe first time they'd done a myth like this, there had been a lot of weeping on both ends. Now the duo had it down to a fine science. \n\n\"Now,\" said Adam, \"Let's see if our Human Centipede can really function!\"", "The male sat there, wide eyed.\n\nOf course, he didn't really have a choice. Four knots tied his wrists and ankles to the armrests and legs of the chair, so simple yet so successful at making it utterly impossible for the test subject to move.\n\nThe man in the beret was the one paying attention to him, sitting opposite him smiling, sizing up his prey before the next round of testing began.\n\nBehind him, a female stood there, a binder in her hands, explaining the plan to the man in the beret. In another dimension, she would have been one of many people that the man tied to the chair found attractive, but currently, all that came to his mind trying to describe her was a name. Mengele. \n\nA man carrying a box came in, who Adam greeted with a \"Thank you, Grant\" as the box was placed down next to him. A bottle of Coca-Cola was pulled out, as well as a little bag of a candy called Pop Rocks.\n\nA gag was forced into the man's mouth, forcing it to open wide, as the soda bottle and bag were opened.\n\nAdam smiled, and asked to nobody in particular, \"Can Pop Rocks and soda, when eaten simultaneously, cause the eater's stomach to rupture?\"" ]	2
You know the story. Our villian has an ingeniously complex plan to destroy EVERYTHING! MUHAHAHA! But it seems there was a lack of foresight, and they don't really have any post-world ambitions. What could come from such a moment of clarity?	[WP] The local super villian's violent yet ultimately ambiguous plan has succeeded, and the world is now devoid of all life! The heroes have failed to save the day, and Mr.Villain lets out a triumphant cackle!... But what now?	[ "\"Ha...ha...ha...\" The laugh faded slowly into the silence. The only sound was the faintest sound of blood freezing on the rapidly cooling stone. Zeltigest looked down upon the once great hero, the legendary and magnificent Ser Lloyd Kenlance. The once great frame now lay crumpled. The heroic warrior king, who renounced his throne for a life of justice, lay dead. Dead. It was a strange word now. Said too many times, it's meaning had been stripped. Everything was dead now. What value could the word possibly have now? Zeltigest tried to smile at the thought, but that too was gone. The joy of his victory had been slain along with the rest.\n\nHe looked upon the land from the top of the tower. Already the sky was black. The land was black. It was fading. Soon not even black could describe it. Nothingness. That was what was coming. The Abyss. \n\nLooking back Zeltigest saw the stone that the fallen hero lay on began to fade. \"Don't you see now? I know that you can. The Ethereal shall be one of the last to go.\" He paused. As if there would be a response, but there could not be one. He knew that. If there was, it was surely swallowed by the Abyss now.\n\n\"When everything fades, we will shall be free. War. Famine. Disease. Death. These are the coming of the apocalypse. The very thing you swore to stop me from bringing about. But look.\" He waved an arm at the nothingness behind him. As if the window to the land still existed. All there was left was him, and the fallen hero. The land. The sky, the stone the hero once lay on, everything. It was all gone.\n\n\"There is no war. There is no famine. There is no disease. There is no death!\" His voice cracked. A child finally getting what they wanted, the excitement too much. \"There is nothing left at all! We cannot possibly be harmed. No one can hurt each other. No can hurt anyone at all!\" His voice was rising. Frantic even. The hero was beginning to fade.\n\n\"No one! Nothing! There is nothing! Nothing at all! Absolutely nothing...\" The fever broke and his voice shrank. A child recalling terrible memories. Fearful to continue. Scared to admit that they may have been wrong.\n\n\"None of it can hurt me now...\"\n\nThe last trace of the hero faded. Taken by the Abyss. Nothing.\n\n\"I'm safe now...\"\n\n\"Alone and safe...\"\n\nThe faintest cry. A child who looks back to the house they ran from.\n\n\"All...alone...\"", "I... I've done it. I WON! HA! HA! He never saw it coming! None of them saw it coming! Finally... After all of these years of plans foiled by incompetent lackeys and self-righteous \"heroes\", I've finally done it. Look at them. They're all just sitting there like the footstools they now are. Look at you now, my arch-nemesis. You're reduced to a piece of cheap rattan furniture. Why, I could set you on fire now and there's nothing you could say or do to stop me. What are you going to do? You're little more than an oversized paperweight. You can't even ask the least of these peons to help you! They're all the same as you! Jeremy, come see... Oh. That's right. You're the same also. Nevermind. I don't need them now anyway! I have the peace and quiet I've always wanted. Man! All of this success is making me hungry. I wonder if Jimmy's Lobster Shack is still op... Ugh. No matter. I can cook. I'll eat all the lobster I want now! Nobody can stop me!\n\n...\n\nWow. I can still smell the fryer. I'll just let myself in. You all don't mind, do you? HA! Now... Where's the kitchen? Ah! There it is. Now... The lobster... Wh... What!? NOOOOOOO!!!! \n\nI hate fried rattan." ]	2
The knight and the dragon can be either gender.	[WP] A knight is about to fight a dragon, however the knight and the dragon become infatuated with each other. What happens next?	[ "The knight crept further into the wyrm's lair, torch flickering in the gloom. He'd been training all his life for this battle. His kin told stories of the dread dragon, a beast so grand its wings blocked out the sun. Its breath able to melt the strongest armour. He would best this infernal creature and bring peace to his land, even if it meant his own life.\n\nHe soldiered on through the burrow, beads of sweat trickling down his visor. The mountain chill replaced with the dragon's heat. He knew the journey into the beast's lair would be hard, but this was ludicrous. I must press on, he thought. He refused to turn back now. As he delved further into the cavern, the gloom was replaced with a shimmering fog. The dragon's horde acted as ample lightning for the final stretch of the knight's quest, and would no doubt lend brilliance to his victory.\n\nHe entered the central chamber, light almost blinding. Curled up amongst the draconic coffers, was the knight's mark. His ultimate goal. But as his gaze upon the beast, he was struck by a peculiar feeling. The dragon's musk filled his head, evaporating all nervousness. His fear was replaced with utter admiration. Gone were any traces of malice or hate, just a feeling of true adoration. He could not kill this beauteous beast, it was a sight to behold and to laud. \n\nThe legends were all wrong. How could they think this creature was a monster? They must have had it wrong, the knight's kin were in awe of this dragon. Only he could truly comprehend its loveliness, it must have been fate that these two star crossed beings would finally meet in this golden chamber.\n\nFlinging his sword into the dragon's horde, discarding his helmet amongst those of fellow admirers, the knight dashed towards his love. Hearing a disturbance in its hall, the dragon looked for the cause of its commotion. As it saw its new admirer coming closer, it unfurled its wings and claws to return the knight's embrace. It was also enamoured by this new arrival, but for quite different reasons.\n\nThe two shared a long embrace, the knight filled with pure joy as he found his soulmate. The dragon, on the other hand, was happy to have its meal delivered to it. It savoured the knight's confused smile, as the dragon lifted him to his maw. A snack is all the tastier, when it rests itself at your feet.", "The crimson glow shining between the dragon's onyx scales showered the cavern with a flickering light. On its back, blazing hot flames replaced a normal dragon's line of spikes. It whipped its flaming tail above the knight and roared when the warrior did not react, the sound filled with sharp crackles like a raging fire.\n\nIt took in a greedy gulp of air then filled the entire cave with an inferno. If not for the protection spell it had surely placed on its horde, the glimmering pile would had melted long ago by the beast's flames, if not by its body temperature. No normal dragon would have been able to sustain the flames so long, but it was clear which element this one favored.\n\nAs the flames subsided, a horned helmet could be seen. The knight's dark armor gave him the appearance of a demon, and now the dragon realized that its fire would have no effect on him. It hissed, smoke trailing from its nostrils and towards its burning red eyes. “Who are you?” it thundered, the immense sound sending weak rocks crashing to the ground.\n\n“They call me the Knight of Hell,” the knight replied. The dragon realized from the feminine tone that its foe was a female, not a male like it had first assumed. It hadn't been able to smell the human through the armor's own smoky scent.\n\n“Hell? I am your Hell, human.”\n\n“My name is Adrienne Satiel. Some say that our family was descended from fiery beasts not unlike yourself.” She removed her helm, brushing a strand of bright chestnut hair from her eyes. Her arrogant smirk reminded the dragon of another young lizard it had melted long ago.\n\n“You are no dragon!” it spat. A ring of smoke blew towards the female, but she waved it away. “You might have found yourself a pretty metal pelt, but it cannot protect you forever.”\n\n“I think you're mistaken, beast. The armor isn't protecting me.”\n\nThe dragon breathed fire upon her once more, but this time it ended the onslaught after a few short seconds.\n\n“I'm protecting the armor. Your fire won't hurt me.” She allowed the tip of her sword to rest lazily against the ground.\n\nIt lowered its head to the her level, its snout too tough for even the sharpest of weapons to pierce. White fangs as long as her blade poked out from under its lips. “Really? Are you immune to fangs and claws? I can still devour you.”\n\n“You'll reconsider,” she purred. She placed the palm of her hand against its head. It tried to move but found itself frozen from the strange magic flowing into its mind. Suddenly, it realized that her eyes were absolutely beautiful, the same shade of red as its own. If she were a dragon, it would had taken her as a mate in a heartbeat. Perhaps it could still turn her into a dragon, she already smelled like fire.\n\n“Now tell me, do you love me?”\n\nMoving its head away from her, it gazed unblinkingly into her eyes. “Yes,” it rumbled. “I love you. I await your orders.”\n\nShe nodded. “Good, glad that's settled. By the way, did I mention that I'm not a knight? They tried to execute me for a little thing like treason.”\n\n“Tell me who, and I will hunt them down,” it snarled. “They will suffer!”\n\n“I know they will. Everything burns in the end. Come on, darling. We're going back to my kingdom.”", "With a soft hand she rubbed his face. So cold he was, she thought. The whole time she had loved him he had been so full of warmth. But now he lay cold upon the bundle of massive logs assembled for pyre. \n\nThat was their way, so ironic, she thought, the fire always so important to them. It would carry him forward to the next life. Her hand now lay upon his chest, covered in hard plates. He was so proud of his armourings, boasting they were un-piercable. She had pierced them easily enough, though only with words, on that day they first met, ready to do battle. Her words quelled his rage-full heart and replaced hate with love.\n\nShe rubbed upon the plates once again. They were shiny, freshly polished and newly encrusted in jewels. She had paid dearly from her hoard to grant him this honor. \n\nIt was time to go. Standing slowly, the thick smoke began to pour slowly from the nose of her small blonde human body. Slowly and rhythmically it flowed around her body until only her outline remained. \n\nRapidly it began to change. Her wings emerged first and then the rest of her massive form.\n\n\"Adieu\" she whispered. The flames left her maw and ignited the pyre. " ]	3
	[WP] After laboring in North Korea for most of his life, one man snaps and finally decides to take a stand against the regime.	[ "I worked for years, and have seen many slaughtered.\nI worked for years, in fears of sadistic and well armed volunteers.\n\nUntil one day, when fear distilled like vaporizing water.\nI viewed and heard the murder of my daughter.\nThe soldier asked her if she wished to produce any last words, and she spoke; \"end my life, but not that of my father\"\nHe then picked her up, wiped the hair from her forehead and shot her.\n\nThey laughed when they saw me, dumped the body and forgot her.\nIf there is one thing you should never do, it is to tamper with a father and their family.\n\nSo, I raised my pickaxe and smashed his head\nUntil he died, or until his convulsions began to subside.\nNo place to hide, so I took the gun from the body.\n\nBefore I could fire at the demons they raised their weapons and shot me.", "Kim toiled with his shovel day after day , night after night. He couldn't take it anymore. He remembered stories of a free Korea told by his grandfather long ago. When a man worked and kept what he made, how they used to be creators and consumers, now he was nothing. The soldiers' dog ate better than him. He was lower than an ant. Yet even ants would fight when threatened. Ants are numerous, they built great structures, they are strong and they stand together for a threat. Kim was proud to be an ant. At that moment Kim decided to begin the revolt. He threw down his shovel and stood tall.\n\nA solider saw this man standing there defiantly. The solider shouted \"Pickup that shovel before I set the dogs on you.\"\n\nKim looked around at the other prisoners toiling away and picked up his shovel. Worker ants are no match against solider ants." ]	2
	[WP] Even Death fears death.	[ "If I’d had it my way I would have never fallen into the footsteps of my father. Who would choose this profession in the first place? Who actively wants to be the one thing that most people fear? Carrying out the job of someone you’ve never met? The pay sucks, and there is no guarantee that you’ll even advance to something better. And what’s killer, no pun intended, is that even though you carryout this selfless job, at the end of your time, when retirement hits you and fate calls, you’ll be replaced by someone else, left to face the same destiny of those that you’ve lead prior.\n\nI’m Death IV and I fear who I am. \n\nSince I was young I’ve known that it was expected of me to carry the family tradition and be the gatekeeper per se, the grim reaper, the hooded beast. I dreamt of other professions though. Going to college, becoming maybe a doctor and saving lives. Not taking them away. But here I am, well trained and working 8 hour shifts. Between my father, grandfather and a host 24 other families, we get the job done. And my frequent flier miles are off the charts, I can be in Rio in less than 30 seconds followed by Amsterdam in a matter of 2. I guess it has its perks.\n\nBut it definitely has its bad. Children are the worst. You’d expect them to be immune to my touch. It never gets easier to see the faces of their distraught parents. Children shouldn’t die. But the handbook states otherwise. No one goes against the handbook. Doing such means losing your job, losing your job, means your own death. \n\nI don’t know of too many people that do a job that they fear themselves. Are undertakers scared of dying? Do Doctors get nervous about surgeries? Maybe I’m overreacting. \n\nMy dad thinks I’m too much of a rebel, and that ultimately it will cost me. I’ve told him that it can’t cost me more than the pain and fear I have inside. The fear that I hold for my own destiny, because one day, someone is going to touch me, and I’ll die. Then what? You’d think we’d know what’s behind those doors that we lead people to daily. Protocol states that we can only lead them so far. Sometimes we have to drag them, but never are we allowed to open or even touch the door. It opens from inside, no words spoken. People walk in but they never walk out.\n\nIn all the time I’ve spent doing this I’ve never gotten used to it. It only fuels my fear. \n\nI’m up. Argentina this time, I’ve been working on my Spanish. \n", "Reaper 8945 -his name was actually Frank before, but that is what people called him now- shuddered awake out of his terrifying nightmare. It had started off as a nice dream. He had been sliding across the planes of Namibia, looking for a lost traveller that ran out gasoline two days and water about a day ago. He was not supposed to feel anything, but since this was a dream, he had started to feel the warmth. It started off slowly and then grew warmer and warmer until he almost felt like he had been burning. Exactly at the point when the heat would overcome him, he had seen it. It started off as a small green dot, but as he slid further, he could make out the trees and he heard the soft dripping of water. He entered the oasis and sniffed the plants. He dropped down and as he was about to quench his thirst. -which didn't make sense since he didn't drink or eat anymore- He looked upon his reflection. It was the grim reaper in the traditional black coat, with a long scythe in his boned hands. The reflection didn't follow his movements and rose out of the water. He staggered back and the reaper swung his scythe... That is when he woke up, bones sweating and skull aching. He got up and pulled out his parchment. The list was replenished with names, just like every other day. He read them all and at the end he passed over the saying that marked the end of this day. Written in red parchment it was an immediate breech of his vow if he failed to read it before he slept:\n\nAnd now sleep and weep of thee. For thou who shalt instill fear in them must first learn to fear thy own.\n" ]	2
Bonus points for humor.	[WP] Everyone hates you. You are completely aware of this and in fact, make constant efforts to maintain your reputation. What's the why?	[ "Let’s see...tomorrow's to do list: \n1. Wake up really late \n2. Piss on toilet seat \n3. Eat any food in the house \n4. Punch James in the nose \n5. Get obnoxiously drunk \n6. Make every effort to sleep with Julie \n \nThese to do lists are handed out to everyone by the producer of The Bachelor at the end of each day. I hate it that I was chosen to be the \"Bad Boy\", but what can you do? It's all in the name of entertainment.\n", "Man, I'm kind of a dick.\nWalking around in the hallways, people always glare. They glare at me because they know how I've treated other people. I feel those glares, like lasers fixated on my back forever. Every time I come into contact with another person, I go into autopilot, thinking up any insult or anything I can use against them. I just want everyone to leave me alone. Never has there been a time that I can remember where people didn't stare, just before they where staring for different reasons. The story my parents tell me is that I was chasing my ball down the street when I was a kid, and suddenly a car just came and hit me. I almost died. I wish I would've died. Instead I was left with what my Dad calls \"battle scars\", but what everyone else thinks of as ugly, even my Mom. Scars. All over my face. Not just one little one, but everywhere. As me and my face started growing, it caused the scars to contort into disgusting shapes all over my face. I could never go anywhere where people weren't staring, pointing, or the occasional douchebag laughing. Mostly, it was pity. Strangers would come up to me and tell me they where sorry. Strangers. I don't want pity. In school, it was the same. So, I started being a jerk. I'd rather insults thrown my way, than words of pity. I don't want to be treated different, I want them to know me for who I am. So when I feel your glares, I'm happy. It means you know something about me besides my face.", "\"Fuck you and the fucking couch you rode in on!\"\n\n\"That one didn't even make sense\" Alex thought to himself as he walked through the TSA line. This was the fourth heckler he'd met on his way to Gate 4B, and aside from the seven drivers who slowed down or sped up just to roll down their windows and scream obscenities at his car, and the two neighbors who sprinted out of their homes to wish him a \"I hope you die slow fiery death and never come back\" as he walked up to his car. Hell, the one neighbor still had his pants draped around his ankles with a white, two-ply toilet paper tail sticking out of his tighty-whities.\n\nAll in all, Alex didn't think of himself as a bad guy. \"Mother-fucker, I'll kill you, you son of a bitch!\" screamed an elderly man, trying to pounce on him with one of the airport stanchions over his head. Alex maneuvered around his nearly-lethal blow with ease, remembering to kick-out his left foot just a bit further so that the man didn't break his nose on the floor when he fell. He volunteered at soup kitchens, fighting off a swarm of volunteers and homeless arrivals with one hand as he ladled Creamed Corn with the other. He sang in the church choir, though often times, he was isolated from the rest of clergy up-front lest they try to crucify him like that one Easter ceremony almost gone horribly, horribly wrong. He even had a girlfriend, Helen, who for all intents and purposes was about the only person on G-d's green Earth that didn't wish him ill.\n\n\"Calling all First-Class Premiere passengers, passengers in wheelchairs, and Mr. Alex Priam for boarding please\".\n\nAlex rushed over to the counter, smiled, and handed his boarding pass. The gentlemen at the ticket counter hissed a \"Thank you for choosing Virgin Air\" with a gentle \"you sack of shit\" as he walked away. \"Just a regular day\", Alex thought to himself smiling. He was riding in the cock-pit today, taking the jump seat usually reserved for the trainee pilots. While the airline didn't want to consent at first, they knew damn well leaving him in the main cabin of the plane would cause a ruckus before they ever took off. And Lord knows he couldn't take the train again, considering the near-death scenario they had with cabin Number 4 almost being detached from the locomotive by a swarm of traveling sailors last time.\n\nAs Alex sat down, strapped himself in and rubbed his knee (that crazy postman got him good recently, with his own damn Amazon delivery no less), he couldn't help but smile. It had been a while, and it was a difficult long-distance relationship, but he was finally going to visit his dear sweet Helen, the last woman left on Earth." ]	3
	[WP] Upon making first contact, the Aliens inform us they were the first humans to embark on a space journey thousands of years ago.	[ "They came in December. \nOn the 14th my colleague, Robert Janson noticed something strange on the Skynet defence radars. I was working on directing a team on Pillar 34 through the proper maintenance procedures for oxygen filters, and God was I in a bad mood. \n \"Caleb, you should...uh, well see this.\" He said over intercom and from his tone I knew he wasn't joking. I transferred the maintenance crew to Warren and went to go see.\n\"I'm not in the best mood so whatever it is it better be good Jan.\" we called him Jan to piss him off but it didn't affect him anymore, old habits die hard I guess. I entered his room and leaned over his shoulder, looking at the readings showing up on the screen. i felt my stomach go cold, whatever it was it was big and heading towards the planet fast. \n \"I've tried to make contact but whatever it is won't respond\" Robert began \"The closet Pillar is 68 but I can't make contact with it, like there's a huge jammer. Cal, you know what will happen if we don't right? The-\" I cut him off there.\n\n\"I'm not a idiot Jan, can't we get a visual? We need to know if this is hostile or just another Asteroid because we don't need more craters.\" I was just trying to calm myself down. Panic at this time was not an option. Of course I knew it wasn't a Asteroid because the readings were off by a mile. It was a ship and it was bigger than anything we've ever seen. I also knew the repercussions, once the thing hit the Skynet's killzone it would burn up and explode, costing millions of dollars in repairs of Pillars and Earth structures. \n\"We can't get a visual the jamming signal won't let us, but we need to contact Washington and warn them.\" Jan was right and he was speaking more sense than I was thinking so I just nodded.\n \n\"Right, well I'll get in contact and you do something that looks smart.\" We both nodded and that and I ran back to my office. I didn't bother sitting down and I booted up the monitor and accessed the secure communications protocols. I then proceeded to call Washington. \nThe computer rung three times before it stopped, the screen was frozen at the perfect moment, the spinning eagle was facing me with the two swords behind it. It reminded me of the flags back in my hometown. I missed my hometown. \n\nMy hometown was called - wait what was this? The screen went black and four letters appeared on the screen outlined in green. I.R.C.E? What was that supposed to mean!\nA face followed it, a man probably about 50 sat in front of a blank white background wearing a grey uniform and those four letters on his right sleeve. I heard Jan call from the hall and I knew he was recieving it too. \n\"Hello, I am Captain Earl Hemlock and I represent the Intergalactic Resource Collection and Exploration fleet. Please do not be afraid, we mean no harm. Lower your defences...\" he paused for a long moment and took some breaths. I dreaded what came next.\n\"We just want to come home\"\n", "The changes were subtle, having been born and raised on a planet with 1.25 times earth gravity but the new comers were both faster and stronger than the humans of Earth.\n\nWhat the humans of Earth did not know yet, was that this was bound to be a one way trip for the Starborn as they liked to call themselves. Unfortunately, due to engine failure the main ship had to be left behind in space and only a small shuttle bringing 24 Starborn men and women to Earth was left.\n\nThese 24 men and women eventually founded their own nation out of what had once been Somalia and from there, slowly, over 100 years they formed an empire that ruled the entire planet." ]	2
	[WP] You get bored of the party and walk outside to lay under the tree. It has become dark. As you lay under the tree, you look up and see two beady red eyes looking back down at you.	[ "\"Fuck.\"\n\nWith music blaring just about 50 ft to the front of me, I had lay down in the grass, hoping to at least doze off so I could escape here for a little while. See, I go to a small private school, so some asshole thought it'd be nice to invite everyone. I don't even know these people, I thought to myself as I drove to the house, in the humid, dusky evening. Whatever the fuck this is, I'm sure it'll be the most eventful shit tonight.\n\n\"Hey there, Ian. I'm Rufus,\" the thing dropped down from the tree. It kind of looked like a cat and a seven year old had morphed together as graceful as nature would allow, and carried itself like a sunshiney freshman meeting a new companion on its first day. It stuck out a paw as if it were a hand. \"Nice to meet you!\"\n\n\"Uhh...yeah nice to meet you too, yeah. Who are you?\"\n\n\"I said I'm Rufus, you don't pay attention much, do you\"\n\nI shook my head. \"What are you, then\"\n\n\"I, Rufus the feline, am a part of your imagination. You really are crazy, fucker.\" He giggled.\n\n\"Whatever. We can talk in the car, eh?\" I wasn't going to let my brooding be interrupted by anything, even me. Fuck me, I thought to myself. I can't communicate with others, I'm a burden on everyone, my family, on society, everyone. Life is worthless anyways, it won't matter in the big scheme of things if I kill myself tommorow, will it? Nope.\n\nRufus cleared his throat, his eyes glowing, \"You really should see a- \"\n\n\"I know, Rufus. Shut up.\" And he didn't say a single word until ingot home.", "The party pounded on in the distance, blazing like a far away flare. I walked farther across the backyard, enveloped in thoughts of the future. It was a lovely backyard, big and spacious. It even had a pool, which was, for the most part, unoccupied, except for the lone couple that was drunkenly making out under the diving board. I dragged my feet across the dew covered grass, soaking up the silence. I decided to sit under the nice cover of an oak tree that sat near the outskirts of the yard; it's branches crossing over the other side of the wooden fence. The trunk was sturdy and I lay against it, thinking of everything, letting my mind wander between bliss and sadness, basking in the quiet moonlight of the night, picking grass out of the ground and drawing my name into the dirt. \n\n\"Shouldn't you be inside, drinking, like the rest of your friends?\" whispered a wayward voice from above. \n\nMy heart jumped against my ribcage and I snapped my neck back, searching for the source of the sound. \n\n\"Who said that?\" I asked, squinting at the dark lattice of branches above me. Suddenly, my eyes settled on a pair of beady red eyes and connected their gaze nervously, \"Who are you?\" I asked breathlessly. \n\n\"Don't you recognize me?\" said the voice, leaping down in a quick black blur, \"I'm your friend.\" \n\nI swallowed hard as the silhouetted figure came into full view. He was tall and human-like, but something was off about him. His hair was a silver white and he had eyes that shifted from red to orange, like firelight. He took a seat next to me in the grass and I could feel heat emanating from him. \n\n\"Geez,\" I asked, laughing nervously, \"Do you have a fever or something?\"\n\n\"No,\" he answered, \"But I think you might.\" \n\nI stared back at him, half-drunk, and uttered a bewildered, \"What?\" \n\nHe laughed, his white teeth gleaming, \"I mean. It's a party, what are doing out here, by yourself? Aren't you supposed to be having fun with everyone?\" \n\n\"I could ask you the same question. Besides,\" I said, looking up at the stars caught between the branches, \"I'm having a contemplative moment.\" \n\nHe chuckled quietly, \"A contemplative moment? What the hell is that supposed to be?\n\n\"Oh, come on\" I said in a slurred surprise, \"You know, a moment where you just kind of step back and enjoy the scenery. This beautiful night for instance, where I'm young and everything just feels wrong and right at the same time. And you know it's fleeting, but you're just sort of okay with it...you know?\" \n\n\"Well, you're quite the thinker,\" he said simply, \"But, yeah, I guess I kind of do.\" \n\n\"Cool,\" I said, \"So why the hell were you up in a tree?\" \n\n\"Same thing, you could say.\" he responded, his shifting eyes, melting into a shade of light orange, \"Just observing.\" \n\n\"Mmm\"\n\n\"Well,\" he said, rising to stand, \"I should probably get back to that, then.\" \n\n\"No,\" I protested quietly, pulling on his hand, \"Stay.\" \n\nHe sat back down and I leaned in slowly toward his face, staring at his eyes, feeling his warm breath against mine. Our lips touched for a moment, before, in a black flash he darted away and left me alone. \n\nI opened my eyes, my lips still slightly puckered and stared sheepishly at my friend who was standing above me with a look of absolute shock on his face. \n\n\"Uhh, dude, how drunk are you?\" he asked, \"There's no one fucking there.\"", "‘Damn, it had been a long time since I had been that drunk. I had been so good about staying away. So much time spent at AA meetings, talking to shrinks, getting my friends to help me out, and I just fucking throw it all away. The party was starting to die down, and everyone was sobering up too much for my liking, so I just snag a bottle of shitty-ass vodka and slurred and stumble my way out the door.\n\nI make it as far as the bigass tree in their front yard before tripping over one of its roots hiding in the darkness. I land on my face, but (and this was important to me at the time) I manage to keep my bottle from spilling. I look up, probably swearing my face off at the tree, and two scary little red eyes are looking at me from the bottom branches. \n\n\n“Who tha fuck’re you?” I say.\n\n\n“My name is rather complicated,” the tree person replied. “And its in another language. It translates fairly well to ‘The Tempter’ though.”\n\n\n“That sounds preddy gay. Are you gon’ tempt me with buttsex? Hahahaha” My idiotic laughter echoed around the empty yard. \n\n\n“Of course not! No, all I want to do is go somewhere more fun.”\n\n\nSuddenly there was a face around the eyes, and then a head around the face, and then a body came out of the shadows to join them all. And dayum, what a body it was, I remember I was speechless at this beautiful woman that stepped out from behind the tree. Her eyes faded to a more normal brown color, and I thought that the red must have been a trick of the light.\n\n\n“Where d’you wanna go?” I say, and at this point I had pulled myself upright and was trying to stand up straight enough to offer her my arm.\n\n\nShe says to me, “Let’s go to your place, I bet we could have some of our own fun there!” And then she just grabs my junk and squeezed!\n\n\n“Hell, yeah!” I reply. So I stumble my way over to my car, unlock it, and open the door for my lovely lady friend. My house was only a couple miles away, but road seemed a little bumpier and less straight than normal. I was nearly home when I saw those lights behind me and I knew I was done for. As soon as she realizes I am busted, this chick I am with turns into a fucking demon with wings, fangs, and boobs and shit, kisses me once more and then vanishes like smoke. That’s fucking bullshit amiright?’\n\n\n‘Listen kid, I have never in my 24 years as a cop seen more destruction from a drunk driver that what you did last night.’ The mustache in a uniform in front of me seemed pretty pissed. ‘You wrecked fifteen lawns, killed seven mailboxes, and hit 2 different people. Both of them are going to make it, but you are going to jail for a long time.”\n\n\n“You know, I am impressed,” the second cop says. “I have never seen someone go for an insanity plea on a DUI. The way you’re going buddy, you just might get it.” He burst out laughing and turned to walk away from my cell. \n\n\nThe first cop stood there for a bit longer, simply shaking his head. But just as he turned to go, he looked at me slowly, and winked. His eyes were red.\n", "It took exactly 29 minutes for me to get bored of the party back in Stacy's house. Brad's drunk shenanigans got annoying after 5. Stacy got tired from blowing every single person at the party at 17. Don't forget about Margot, who beat Raj as the beer pong champion at 26. Her parents must be so proud.\n\nI walked out of the party, and almost instantly walk into a strange smell. I ignore it, not even trying to guess what it is, and seat myself beside an old oak tree across the street on the park.\n\nI take a sigh of relief. I have full view of Stacy's house, and the shenanigans that it currently hosts. But here, its peaceful, and quiet. Alone in the dark. I smile, and close my eyes.\n\nThe smell returns. \n\nI open my eyes. As I sniff the air around me, i hear a faint noise, almost like, a giggle. My body goes stiff, and I slowly crane my head above me...\n\nWhere my gaze meets two red eyes, staring back.\n\nMy heart almost stops, and a gasp gets caught halfway out of my mouth.\n\nThe thing giggles, and smoke begins wisping through the branches above. \n\nI can't stand it anymore. I take out my phone, and shine its light into the now hazy branches above me. I must see what this creature is, even though every part of me wants to run.\n\nMy light finds...\n\nAaron Bromley, giggling and puffing on a joint as his red eyes continue to gaze at me.\n\n\"God fucking damnit, Aaron.\" ", "\"What's wrong?\" The eyes stare at me intently. They almost stare into me.\n\n\"Nothing\" I reply. I'm not scared, surprisingly.\n\nThe eyes continue to look at me. \"Just need to relax?\"\n\nI nod, keeping eye contact. \"Yeah,\" I say. \"I guess I do.\"\n\n\"Well, go ahead. It's in your pocket.\" The eyes stare at me, unblinking.\n\nMy heart sinks. I should't be alone. I look to the party, and move to get up.\n\n\"Hey,\" it hisses. \"Stay here an relax.\"\n\n\"No,\" I say. \"No, no no, I really shouldn't be here. I should go...\" I hate myself. My voice trails off and I don't move, betraying my pleas to go.\n\n\"Stay,\" it says, calmer. \"It's in your pocket.\"\n\nI look down, my eyes filled with tears. I remove the small bag from my pocket and unzip it. I take out my gear, and place it in my lap. I pull a lighter from my pocket, load up, and begin to cook. I watch the bubbles appear. I hate this. I hate this.\n\nI set the spoon down and put a cotton swab in it. Stabbing the needle through, I pull back the plunger, watching the dirty liquid fill the syringe. I tie off my arm, and look for a vein.\n\nI find one, and slowly insert the needle. I instantly hate myself.\n\nI lie back, and strip off the tie. Looking up, I see the eyes fade.\n\n\"I hate you,\" I whisper to no one, as a tear rolls down my face." ]	5
	[WP] Writing from the future, explain why the social norms of our time are barbaric and backwards.	[ "My trip to the 21st century was bizarre. I had no idea how crazy it would be. The ancients were backwards morons. \n\nFirst off they steered old gasoline carmobiles just like we were taught. But none of them could fly. The ones that could fly were too big to steer around town. None of them could go to any other planets or even the moon. The closest thing they had was a movie about it.\n\nThe dead animal food smelled good. So I asked for one. They told me to give them numbers. I had no idea how to do this. A motherly woman stepped in and gave them papers to feed me the dead animal food. \n\nI showed her my penis as a gesture of gratitude. She screamed and ran away before I could even get it erect. I guess she couldn't take a compliment. Then some soldiers kidnapped me and put me in a zoo where they keep people.\n\nThey flipped out when I took a shit on the ground. They kept asking me to shit on their shiny white water seat. I told them to learn how to take a compliment. \n\nThey let me go after that. I decided to go home. The 21st century is too backwards for my taste.", "“Brother Dondegaiya, do you know why you are here?”\n\n“Yes, Mother Amordemata. Because you need me in this Brother Ihoquernunos' lab instead of learning how to use the chorgüeh-radio ?”\n\n“Try again,” wrinkled face scowling in the vegetable-oil-lamp light.\n\n“Yes, Mother Amordemata. Elder Brother Sonoseyndet caught me using the Temple's chorgüeh-radio to listen to Anthropocene-Age Nwebo Nujor radionovelas.”\n\n“Instead of?” \n\n“Instead of writing down the newscasts out of Issland and translating it so I can practice translating Isslandese and read the news to the brothers who've taken the Letricida' Vow ?”\n\n“Very good. If only you were as good at your duties as you are at telling me what I want to hear. Remember, Younger Brother: Engum flygur sofanda steikt gaes i munn.”\n\n“Yeah, yeah, a fried goose won't fly into your mouth,”\n\n“Damn right it won't! By God and the Gods! You have so much potential, but you waste it on pointless radionovelas out of Nwebo Nujor! Nwebo Nujor, a stone's throw from Nujor, driven under the waves by its sin, and they still broadcast that filth!”\n\n“Oh, come on, Amordemata, they're just fun stories about magic horseless carts and self-driving bicycles and chorgüeh-radios that people kept in their pockets--”\n\n“That's enough!”\n\n“Yes, Mother.”\n\n“Since you seem to have fallen asleep in history class, I'm going to teach you why those stories are so bad. 'Hvar sem fjandinn er par hafur hann sina'. Let's see if you're wise, or a fool.”\n\nMother Amordemata walked over to a cabinet, flowing white robes and headcloth making her look like an angel, sent by God and the Gods to punish fun-loving students. \n\n“I brought you here to this classroom because you enjoyed Ihoquernunnos' demonstration of the steam engine. Remember?”\n\n“Yes,”\n\n“All that magic that you heard on those radionovelas? It all came down to something like that engine. Only, instead of twigs, like your teacher used, the people of Nujor, and the rest of the Old Mircanos used a much more powerful fuel. A black, burning liquid from out of the ground. They used this liquid to fuel all of the “magic” you gawk at, the Letricida' that powered the pocket chorgüeh-radios, and to make those pieces of plastic we still find in the ground. But every sorcerer will tell you that magic always asks for a price! And this black magic most certainly did,”\n\n“And they got the gods mad, I know,”\n\n“No, you don't! They who the gods punish, they cause to punish themselves, first! The Old Mircanos grew rich off the black liquid, and made the rest of the world poor and hungry! But the worst was to come for the Old Mircanos.\n\n They grew cold and heartless and stupid! They thought it was right for a few to live like gods, while the rest lived like slaves. They grew bountiful crops and let millions starve. They had powerful technologies that they could have used for good, and instead, they wasted the power on their own pleasures.”\n\n“That's silly, weren't they really smart, with those pocket chorgüeh-radios?”\n\n “Having information doesn't make you smart, boy! Using it does! They had access to knowledge and wisdom we will never see again, but they didn't use it!\n\n In the meantime, they poisoned the air and used the world's water as their toilet. It is said the Mami Yemata caused the oceans to rise, to sink Nujor and the other cities! She did let the ocean rise, but the Old Mircanos did it to themselves, that poison they belched made the oceans rise!\n\n Oh, the evils don't stop there! They outlawed the herbal rites, the sacred plants which open the soul. Those that they didn't outlaw, they desecrated by using them as toys. They used their science to twist plants and animals to make them sickly, to make them sterile, thumbing their noses at the order of the Gods, who made all things good for those who followed the order. But the Old Mircanos were so cut off from God, from the Gods, from the spirits, that they had much knowledge, but almost no wisdom.”\n\n“I didn't know,”\n\n“And now you do. Now tell me. Are you wise, or are you a fool?”\n\n“I think I'm a little wiser.”\n\n“Good. You are forbidden from chorgüeh-radio privileges for one week. And you are to eat only plain amaranth gruel for that week. \n\n“Yes, Mother Amordemata,”\n\n“Now go to the refectory and start preparing dinner.”\n\n“Yes, Mother Amordemata.” With that, Brother Dondegaiya went off to the refectory, daydreaming of the radionovelas he'd listen to the next week.", "As responsible human beings of the 22nd century, I firmly believe that it is our moral duty to acknowledge and understand the atrocities and horrors of our past. In so doing, we can learn from our mistakes and allow progress to take place. The past century was mired in conflict and suffering, with a large portion of it being concentrated in the beginning of the century. In order to understand the mistakes made by 21st century humanity, it is helpful to start at the beginning. \n\nHumanity emerged into the 21st century amidst a nearly-ubiquitous sense of fear and uncertainty. Many people thought the world as we know it would end when the clock struck midnight on December 31, 1999. Of course, these people were ultimately proven incorrect. The uncertainty surrounding the arrival of a new century did not pass immediately, and the first decade of the 21st century was scarred with human rights abuses, political corruption, and massive economic instability. \n\nBy the middle of the second decade of the 21st century, these problems reached a level of unprecedented criticality. Economic inequality, reckless use of natural resources, and extreme political corruption created an environment of social decay. Distrust and xenophobia were rampant in so-called \"first-world\" nations. Diseases such as cancer and diabetes resulted from ignoring scientifically proven nutritional information. The increasing populations put a strain on economic and environmental systems to the point that many saw no possible way out. \n\nIn summary, the world was destroying itself. " ]	3
	[WP] Fear is not a natural emotion, but is instead taught to children when they reach a certain age.	[ "\"Your daughter is here Dr.\" \n \n\"Send her in.\" \n \n\"Daddy!\" \n \n\"Hey sweetie. Congratulations. 8 years now, you grow up so fast.\" \n \n\"Do I get a present daddy?\" \n \n\"Yes you do sweetie. I have it right here in my back. Its my mask\" \n \n\"Dr. Crane I am going home for the day\" \n\n", "True fear left you frozen, incapable of logical thought. Your instincts, which would trigger in an instant, if say, someone faked a punch at you, they were useless, completely and utterly useless in the face of true fear. The horror claimed you. It demolished you. You became a gushing, screaming infant. Moving on,\n\nSecondary fear through to tertiary fear, depending on the individual’s mind and personal demons, would leave a subject disturbed and affect their short term capacity for action. Crying and an elevation in blood pressure was an effect, as is the begging. If a subject is saying ‘please, god no!’ or the like, then they are not truly fearful, they are only experiencing the secondary of tertiary level of fear. More differentiation of secondary and tertiary is not necessary at this point in introducing you to the system.\n\nThe syntax changes at this point. 4th level fear is an environmental situation that makes subjects wary and uneasy, all the more easy to make them leap forward into a higher level of distress. A dark night walking home, a noticeable bang in the house when its is quiet. Subjects will seek out what they perceive to be a safer environment. Whether that means hurrying home, calling for a ride, or snuggling deeper under the covers. This level heavily relates to fear of being in an environment with a predator. Fear of a specific person can cause 4th level fear very effectively.\n\n5th level fear is a jump scare. Often, afterwards, the subject will laugh it off. But, the momentary effects are note worthy. Imagine missing a step on the stairs. We make that feel like .. a drop of your heart inside your stomach, really.\n\n6th through 8th fear levels are the most interchangeable. \n\nA reminder, this is just a novice guide, should you pursue training in fear mentoring you will be expected to know this much and more about the human-induced-human-capacity for frightfulness.\n\n6th relates to decision making, when you are afraid to go out with new people, or talk to that girl, you are also experiencing the effects of fear that have been taught to you, whether the situation is not the typical ‘dark and stormy night’ is irrelevant. Job interviews and even just applying for jobs is tied into 6th level fear. As are social experiences for those not used to them.\n\n7th relates to a fear of a person, but not in the sense that they can harm you or are abusive to you. It is a cosmetic, shameful sort of fear, of the bum on the sidewalk or the woman who looks like a clown in her makeup. It makes a subject second guess the nature of the world in a light and breezy way, as in, ‘avoid walking in that persons shoes at most costs’.\n\n8th is getting into the simple decisions one always makes of how to present themselves to the world. This level often gets confused with inhibition, but it is not. It is not delaying gratification for future reward. It is a fear of the day when the public transit you are taking is too crowded, and thus your breathing is forced, your posture is uncomfortable. When you notice your tongue and feel ill at ease with it. When you catch someone looking at you and wonder if there is food in your teeth. It also extends into imagining future scenarios, such as where your car breaks down and you are stranded, but the subject would have no logical reason to expect the car to break down. It can be complicated, the 8th.\n\n9th and 10th levels are called anxiety and these two are the uppermost levels of what we measure in human fear capacity.\n\nNow, I know you said you remembered the fear lessons you received. I will reiterate: the expanded scopes of each level of fear and their greek letter sublevels i through x, are the basis for how fear is taught to students, from grade 4 through to high school. It is important that the children of the future are introduced to fear at an early age, by trusted mentors. It seems counter intuitive, but by inducing fear into the population in a controlled way, we are preventing a potential epidemic by inducement from evil fearmongers.\n\nWe’ve seen the effects of when a fearmonger, someone addicted to the feelings of fear, introduces it into the population without preparation. God, Amnesia the Dark Descent nearly destroyed a school when one kid got it distributed. That kid – he thought he was giving his friends a good experience, he loved it, while the rest of the population nearly went comatose. They, the masses, will shut down and be worthless, given a true fear with no previous knowledge of it. \n\nNow, are you ready to move onto the next stage of the introduction, acolyte? " ]	2
	[WP] You find yourself walking down a seemingly endless desert road, with the devil walking by your left and Christ walking by your right. You have no idea where you're going.	[ "Jesus Christ.\n\nHe's on my right. Though I'm a Jew who hasn't spoken a word to this guy, I see the trademark mane of brown hair and a white robe that seems regal enough to go against his supposed meekness. Robes are still pretty religious, though. Certain practices render them universal signs of appreciation. Just look at old, wintry Central Asia. Historically, the region's monks would wander around in cartoonish, top-heavy caravans, and out of sheer acknowledgment of the Monks' peaceful nature and fortune-cookie-esque knowledge, passers by would give them food (i.e, mixtures of rice and honey that break not the rules of veganism or whatever) and beautiful, silk robes.\n\nAnyway, this person who saunters across the desert and squints at the sun is definitely Jesus. He hasn't many look-alikes, come to think of it.\n\nThe man to my left is as silent. Unlike Jesus' silence, his silence unnerves. He hasn't a face, and he barely has features. He hasn't toes because his feet are not feet. They're hooves whose black sheen rests beneath black, furry legs that rest beneath a black, muscular torso. I mean not \"black\" in a sociocultural and political sense. Pitch black. In fact, my eyes glance at the two thin horns that grace the man's head, and I realize that this is the Black Man. The Devil. Well, here treads everything evil and everything good, according to somebody.\n\nI may follow both of them across the wretched plane of existence, but I'll never rise into the realm of ideas like they do. As often as we humans say we align ourselves with deities, we are not deities. We are not goodness. We are not evil. We are self-interested. We cannot help but be selfish. How many more missiles need one fire to discover this? Not enough. Humanity will walk through time with its ideological creations without realizing that situations such as mine regard, in fact, a discrete trio (i.e, three separate things).", "It stretched on and on. No sign of life, no sign that the scenery would change any time soon, and definitely no sign of water.\n\nI glanced left, glanced right. No sign that these two were really here with me or some bizarre figment of my heat-affected mind.\n\n\"I'm... thirsty,\" I panted, my tongue like sand, my lips parched and cracking. I could feel the skin on my nose blistering. This was not good. Not only could I not remember how I got into this strange situation, I couldn't think of where I was going, nor why I was travelling with the ultimate odd-couple.\n\n\"There is learning in all things,\" Christ murmured, in his ever-tranquil voice. I glared at him, or tried. Walking was a trial, swallowing an agony; my face wasn't much in the mood for expressions.\n\n\"Every man has his breaking point,\" chuckled the Devil. He too, I tried to glare at, and this time I really did try. The bastard! I thought. Look at the smug bugger, looks like he's just going for a stroll through a park. He enjoys it. At least Christ has the decency to look a little hot, a little dusty.\n\nWe walked on. Hours in the scorching sun. I tottered, sank to my knees, looking from face to face. \n\nWater, I pleaded, though my mouth would not form the words. Anything for water. My soul for water!\n\nThe two regarded me silently; Christ with his hands folded demurely, the Devil with his sardonic smile as always. I knew I was dying, out in the middle of nowhere, and slowly, the faces faded from view. My world went black.\n\n*\n\nThe Devil was the first to look away. He turned his flaming gaze upon Christ and the two turned their backs to the corpse.\n\n\"I'm sorry, what was it you were saying before we were interrupted?\" he asked Christ politely." ]	2
	[WP] - In the future severe crimes are punished by imprisoning the perpetrator in a completely empty room without any connection to the outside world. One prisoner is completely sane even after 50 years.	[ "It's a pretty big room for one person. I noticed that about 5 years in. Twenty paces by twenty paces and two of me high. No, I couldn't use all of that space.\n\nThey didn't think I'd figure it out. I did it, though. It was a puzzle all along. Found that out in 12 years.\n\nThe only problem is that I tried everything. EVERYTHING. I've walked certain places and at different times. I've eaten all the food and I've eaten no food for days. 17 years. That's when I found I what I needed to do.\n\nI wrote it. All of it. Everything I did, everything I was and wanted to be. All of the walls were covered. It was great. That feeling when you solve a problem the perfect way. Sure, it took me 50 years and about a million cuts for the \"ink\", but I did.\n\nThe only problem? They haven't released me, yet. I did all of this for them. I'm the only person to finally get it, I just know it. I'm the strongest willed of all of us imprisoned. I'm the only one sane enough to find the puzzle and solve it. So, why won't they let me go?", "It is the worst kind of torture. They ripped me from my wife, from my children, and from my dog. They made sure I had plenty of time to replay the events of that night, the night when everything changed. And I used that time the way that they wanted me to. Every single day, or maybe it was night, not that I would've known the difference, I thought about the night that my neighbor came over for dinner. He was an older man, with not much left to live for. He had lived in that light blue house for his entire life. He grew up in the same bedroom he raised his children in. But of course they were all gone before he was. He didn't like to speak of them, or of the terrible tragedy that took them. It was my wife's idea to invite him over for dinner. She said that he looked sad, and that she thought it might cheer him up a bit. I remember the dinner very well. He knocked on the door at 7:27. He was three minutes early. We sat down, and ate. After we had all finished we moved into the living room, to make conversation and drink some coffee. After some very boring topics, I went into the kitchen to get the old man some more coffee. That's when it happened. I heard my wife scream and a loud thump and I immediately ran back into the living room. He was lying there, on the carpet, and my wife was standing over him, holding the large decorative knife that was supposed to be on its stand over the mantle. It had thick, crimson blood slowly dripping from the tip. It was obvious that she was in shock. I asked her in a shaky voice what had happened. She stared at me for a moment, then began to speak in a slow voice, it was clear she was trying not to cry. She told me that he had pointed at the knife, and was intrigued by the elaborate art etched into the blade. She stood up to grab the knife, as the old man wished to examine it. She told me that that was when she felt his cold hand, inching inside and up her skirt. She screamed and turned around quickly, forgetting that she had the blade in her hands. when she turned it went into the side of his throat, and he fell to the floor. The next few hours were filled with police interviews, and the next day they were convinced it was a homicide, and that my wife had murdered the old man. not five minutes after they arrived to arrest her, I drove to the station and turned myself in, saying that I murdered the man, not my wife. It was the last thing I could do to save my wife from the same imprisonment that you ask me about now. I never saw her again. She's gone now, of course. I never saw my children again either, who were to young at the time to remember me. They're still alive, I'm told, though I have no wish of seeing them now. And I'm sure my dog is gone as well, though I have no information as to when.\n\nYou asked me how I stayed sane through those fifty years of confinement. The answer is more simple than you might think. The only thing that kept me going through all of those years, was the simple fact that one day, I would meet you. Not specifically you of course, but everyone like you. Everyone that always has the same question: How are you not insane? I wanted to answer this question as many times as I could, so that I could also give you the best piece of advice a man can give. Don't ever, under any circumstances, have any regrets. If I regretted my decision to sacrifice fifty years for my wife, then it would have meant that I didn't love her. And I did love her. I loved that woman so much that I was willing to give up fifty years of my life just so that she could remain with the rest of the world. So that she could see her brother come home from war. So that she could raise our children, and send them to college. I wanted her to live enough for both of us, because I know that I wouldn't have been strong enough to do so without her. That's how I stayed sane, by reminding myself that every moment I was locked inside of that room, she was free to make the world just a little more beautiful.", "Walk to corner A, wait until water falls from the ceiling.\n\nWalk to corner B, wait until a chunk of unidentifiable food slurry falls down.\n\nWalk to corner C, wait until you need to pee or poop.\n\nWalk to corner D, wait until you fall asleep.\n\nThis was my world for the last 50 years, 18262 days gone by since i've last seen the sun, my only companion during that time were four walls painted white, two holes in the ceiling and one in the ground. \nOver the years i made a small dimple under the food and water receptacle to ensure no food or water would be spilled if i wasn't there in time to receive it.\nIn my 50 years i've only had to use it twice as without anything else to do and the clockwork precision of the drops my body was acclimatised to walk to it and receive it even if i forgot the time . \n\nNow you are probably wondering how i remained sane all that time, well its actually quite simple, you see with practice you can disable your long term memory , and i had a lot of practice, though i have to admit the uniformity of days helped with forgetting.\n\nEven now that i'm out i still sometimes disable it accidentally, but i'm now old enough that i can write those little accidents of as age and no one would think twice. \n\n" ]	3
	[WP] As a joke, your friend gives you a crystal ball for your birthday.....	[ "\"Josh, you can't be serious.\" I said to my best friend.\nHe stopped in the door, and looked at me, surprised.\n\n\"Uhm, Happy birthday, man? What's the problem?\" \n\nThe surprisingly hefty giftbox he was holding was carefully placed on the ground.\n\n\"Why would you think that buying me a crystal ball would be a good idea?\" He tended to be quite a joker, but such dedication and costs? That's unlike him.\n\n\"Dude, you weren't supposed to know! This operation was top secret...\"\n\nTop secret my ass. I have seen that you've organized a group for it on the Internet, that you've been holding up the funds, that you've been actively searching and talking with everyone about psychics and psychic powers.\n\nIt was obvious that he was going to buy me something magic related. \n\nAnd it had to be big, it had to be concrete, it had to work like a charm against the illogical. He was paranoid, scared almost, and he had to make a joke out of his fears.\n\nAnd, his gift was heavy, fragile, was wide and had a moving center of mass, and the sound of bubble wrap was almost obnoxiously loud.\n\n\"But no worries, my dear friend, cause the rest of the team has the best portable surprise party you have ever seen!\" \nJosh reassured me, just as he finished taking his boots off and picking up his gift.\n\nSurprise? No, I'd say you tend to utilize your human resources pretty well.\n\n\"Jetson will come in first with the snacks, and moments later Sire Cauliflower will come with drinks. After that, either Ed or Frank will set up a grill outside, and Eddie will move the party there with his boom box.\" \n\nJetson knows how to cook and not make us puke, Aaron \"Cauliflower\" is our local mild mannered giant that doesn't mind carrying a lot of stuff, And Ed with Eddie know how to kickstart a party outside.\n\nNot to mention that it really is a nice day.\n\nAnd his jaw drops. \n\n\"No worries, Josh. I don't mind partying outside, its a nice day.\"\n\n> After some time, outside.\n\nKaraoke contest is now over, and we sit down to calm down and eat, its probably time to unpack my gifts.\n\n\"Hey Dan, what about our gifts?\" Jetson was the first to mention it, hmm.\n\nI go through those few video games and knic-knacks, and finally get to the main dish.\n\n\"I must say, I'm quite surprised. I didn't expect to receive the ball today.\" \n\nThe joke got a bit of laugh, but I didn't pay much attention. I was already opening all the layers of wrappings and bubble wrap.\n\nI tossed the wrap aside to reveal the biggest and clearest round piece of crystal I have ever seen. \n\nAlmost the size of my head. \n\nHolding it carefully, I can't help but look at it...\n\nIt shines so beautifully. \n\nIt bends the light and shows the purest prism of what's its focusing on. \n\nIt shatters the world into light to rearrange it into a mind's eye.\n\nIt attains perfect focus, as a sphere. \n\nWhen I look deep into the information it shows to me there are no borders of time or space to me and my will finds the truth.\n\n\"So, Mister Now Oficially A Gypsy, tell us the future.\"\n\n\"Yeah, tell me the lotto numbers!\"\n\n\"Come on, amuse us!\"\n\nNone of this is a problem of when or how. Humans only create fixed points in what they see as time. \n\nWhat is of importance here?\n\n> \"Are you with us, Mr Daniel?\" \n\nA distant voice of a woman, from the future or past?\n\nAll of the possibilities concentrated at one point. But what should I know, dear crystal ball? What should we share?\n\nA few amused looks from me of the future. A few spiteful ones from the alternatives. But some things remain constant, and some are, actually, pretty amusing...\n\n\"It looks like Germany will obliterate Brazil 7 to 1 one day in world championships.\" I started.\n\nFew smirks. Yeah yeah, I want to see the thousands you won't get.\n\n\"Josh, good news: your third romantic interest, a gentleman, won't commit suicide like the last two.\" \n\nHis face went dark, but everyone else laughed.\n\n\"Actually, the best thing that will happen to our belowed United States in about two decades of time will be a black president.\" Laughs of disbelief.\n\nThe presentation worked, and nobody believed me anymore. We had some more jokes out of untrue predictions that I came up with, and everybody went home. \n\nAfter that, I investigated the reality a bit deeper and discovered you, my dear twin from the future. \n\nSo, Alias /u/OB1_kenobi , what is your story?\n\nEdit: Formatting", "My friend is laughing hysterically. I just stood there, gazing at the worthless piece of garbage I unwrapped.\n\nI never understood Mark's sense of humour that well. \n\nI remember just two days ago, we were talking about fortune telling.\n\nNaturally, I didn't believe in fortune telling, Worthless garbage, the whole ordeal. \n\nI think I mentioned at some point that crystal balls were just as useful as crumpled pieces of paper.\n\nAnd so on my birthday Mark, with his strange sense of humour, got me a crumpled piece of paper, the words \"crystal ball\" scribbled on it.\n\n\"Real funny Mark\" I said \"What exactly do you expect me to do with this worthless piece of garbage\".\n\n\"Tell my fortune of course\" he exclaimed \"After all, this is as good as a real crystal ball, didn't you say?\"\n\nI mutter under my breath and start moving to throw out this worthless piece of garbage.\n\n\"Wait no!\" Mark exclaims \"You gotta tell me my fortune!\"\n\nI sigh and turn to mark, lazily looking at the \"crystal ball\"\n\n\"Tomorrow, at the stroke of midnight, the apocalypse will come, giant meteors will rain from the sky and wipe out all humanity\"\n\nWow, that was a bit dark, I wasn't really thinking about what I said. But the stuff that came out of my mouth still seemed a little unnatural.\n\nMy thoughts on the subject were rudely interrupted by Marks annoying laugh.\n\n\n****\n\n\nIt's a damn good thing Walmart's open at this time at night, I think to myself as I walk out of the store.\n\nI just ran out of Pepsi, and decided to drive by by Walmart for a late night shopping trip.\nJust as I was about to open the doors to my car, I hear a strange noise coming from above, I look to the sky and than I see it.\n\nA gigantic alien space ship descending upon earth. It looked like it was getting ready to fire a weapon.\n\n\"THAT'S NOT EVEN THE RIGHT APOCALYPSE.\" I yelled into the sky. \"WORTHLESS PEICE O-\"\n\nedit: formatting" ]	2
	[WP] It looked like an angel.	[ "It looked like an angel. \n\nA frown tugged at her lips, eyebrows knotted as she twisted a short, brown lock of hair in her fingers. \n\nThe Department of Fish and Wildlife had gotten a call about an hour back about some kind of huge animal left in the middle of the road; the driver had seemed somewhat panicked, and so Patricia had been called to check it out. She was expecting an elk, maybe a moose to liven up the dull fog of a Minnesota spring morning. \n\nBut no, that was almost definitely an angel. \n\nIt was 5 in the morning, and a thin veneer of frost covered the thing and left it sparkling. Patricia ran a hand through her hair, eyes running over the bloodied lump of feathers on the road while her thumb grazed the call button on her radio. She took a hesitant step towards the thing, then seemed to think better of it and turned to walk into the ditch at the side of the road, finding a number of sticks and settling on a long branch. Patricia approached the lump slowly, almost crouching, and lifted one of the wings covering its broken form. She shrieked and leapt backwards as the wing unfurled and fell to the side - Jesus, the thing was covered in eyes. \n\nCovered in glass, too, she realized. She knelt on the faded asphalt beside it to pick up one large, sparkling chunk, and revised that. No, not glass. Crystal. She ran her hand across the smooth facets and turned it over, dropping it like she'd been burnt when she found an unblinking eye embedded in the rock like a jewel. \n\nEyes and wings. A wheel, shattered. Cherubim? \n\nPatricia knew her bible. But what had happened to it? Had it hit a plane on its way to earth? And what was it doing here in the first place? \n\nPatricia sat on the cold, empty expanse of highway and shivered, wondering how she could call this in. She made her way to her truck, shaking with something more than cold. \n\nSomewhere far away, trumpets sounded. \n\nShe took a deep breath and unclipped her radio from her belt, her knuckles white around its grip. She stared blankly ahead. \"Bob?\" she started, voice breaking. \n\n\"Patty? Everything good out there?\" \n\nA large, wet drop hit her windshield, then another. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she clutched her radio like a cross. \n\nShe barely managed a hoarse whisper: \"No.\" \n\nThe blood fell upon her windshield like rain, and the hail began. ", "He had just finished cutting the tall grass around him and heard a noise. Looking around, he saw nobody around, but another sound came from the sky... Strange bird flapping sounds. He looked up, and gasped.\nAt first, he thought it was money falling from the sky... but a better look told him it was a feathered thing, gracefully falling out of the sky... an angel perhaps... The sun was glaring and the angel hadn't gotten close enough to confirm. Wait a second. This angel was coming down fast. He scrunched his face in concern and moved out of the way as a ball of white feathers smacked the ground, and stood up, looking a bit dazed. \n\nHis face contorted into rage. \n\n\"The last...chicken.\" He whispered, eyes narrowing to slits.. The blob of feathers must have heard it's designation as the bird shook it's head to clear it's vision, it let out a startled cluck, and fled the area, clucking in fear.\n\nLink grunted in anger as he leapt to follow the chicken through the tall grass, determined to find the bird and at this point, probably wring its stupid little neck. He followed the clucking noise into a large bunch of grass and it went quiet. Link stopped, and listened... nothing. \n\nHe growled, and stuck his sword out in front of him and spun angrily, blades of green grass floating about and gems shooting out of the ground.\n\"RAAAAAGH CURSE YOU CHICKEN!\" ", "It looked like an angel... \n\nWith the soft light of the sun...and the wave of the ocean slowly lapping at its feet. Its long brown hair just barley swaying with the breeze...the beauty...I just couldnt believe. \nThe sun caressed its frail gentle frame and glistened on the water that slowly slipped down it back. And as it looked out into the ocean , posed so lightly the sand didnt sink , I could feel the warmth that radiated out from its sould and hear the soft flow of breath as it took in the scent of the palms and the ocean. I waited, looked on, basked in the bliss of the moment \nand it was \nbeautiful." ]	3
	[WP] A Soviet-era space ship has just crash landed in Central Park. Two Cosmonauts have stumbled out of the wreckage	[ "This is the first thing I've written in a while, and I'm not entirely satisfied with it. Criticism is welcome. \n\nAlso, feel free to correct any mistakes. I didn't proofread after typing it.\n\n*Word Count: 1310\n\n“TEN!”, the crowd roars, all at the top of their lungs. Hands are in the air, waiting for the moment that some of them have traveled over a thousand miles for. The moon is nowhere to be found, and there are hardly any stars in sight. It would be pitch black outside anywhere else, but not here. In New York, there’s never a dark night. Still, the atmosphere, the night sky, it is fitting. More fitting than the people here will ever have a chance to realize.\n\n“NINE...EIGHT!”\n\nThe crowd is growing louder as the countdown gets closer to zero. I never understood why people come to this. It has always seemed so pointless and boring to me. It can be watched from the comfort of your own home, away from the mass of inconsiderate, worthless wastes of space. \n\n“SEVEN...SIX...FIVE!” \n\nThe suspense can easily be seen on every one of their faces, like they don’t know what is about to happen. It will be the exact same as the time before, and the time before that, and the time before that. Or, at least to their knowledge, it will.\n\n“FOUR!”\n\nI reach my right hand into the inside of my overcoat and clench my fist tightly on the cold, metal grip. My heart is racing, but I don’t have a choice. These people, they should have stayed home. \n\n“THREE!”\n\nThe sound from the crowd fades almost entirely, and I hear the whispers again. \n\n“Get ready.”\n\nI don’t want to do this, but they swear that I will find some sort of peace if I do. I don’t know why I trust them. They torment me nearly every waking moment of my life. I rarely sleep because of them...I am terrified of sinking deeper into their world…\n\n“You don’t want to fail. Show us that you can do this one thing right. Do not mess this up like you have every other thing in your life.”\n\nI wish they would just go away...without making me do this. They are turning me into a monster...I don’t want to be like them…\n\n“TWO!” \n\nI snap back into reality. This is it, it’s time. I use my left hand to lift the edge of my coat ever so slightly, preparing to draw.\n\n“ONE…” The crowd dragged this number out, slightly elongating it, delaying their fate for just a moment longer.\n\n“ZERO!”\n\nJust as the ball drops, I jerk the weapon out from under my coat, prepared to do what, in my mind, I know I have to do. But then, instead of the usual fireworks and camera flashes, all of the lights go out. No fireworks launch, no cheers are heard. It is almost completely silent.\n\nAlmost. \n\nI don’t shoot. I don’t know why. I know that I have to, but I feel frozen. I can hear a soft humming sound, rapidly growing louder. I look around, searching for the source of this noise, but it’s pitch black now. Not a single light anywhere in New York as far as I can tell. \n\nThe sound continues to grow, and it seems as if it is coming from everywhere. It is almost deafening now.\n\nThen light starts returning. Not the lights that went out though. \n\nA red glow is spreading out across the sky, contrasting the darkness that now seems as if it’s been here for an eternity, moving towards us. Soon, the entire area is lit up with this faint red glow. Then, the noise stops. \n\nIt makes no difference. Everybody is fixated on this red circle of light heading towards us. I somehow manage to replace the weapon I had drawn, once again concealing it. \n\nAt just that moment, a strong wind forces much of the crowd backwards and onto the ground. I remain standing in the corner. \n\nThen the panic sets in. Everybody is screaming and running, people scrambling in every direction. I direct my attention back to the sky and see the cause of these peoples’ worries. My mind doesn’t have enough time to process what it is, because as soon as I notice it, the object hurtles past me with a deafening screech. I’m blown backwards into a tree, and then even further as the tree gives way. I’m blinded by a great flash of light, and just lay there for a moment. \n\nAm I dead? \n\nI don’t care if I am. My whole life has been nothing but torture, always causing some sort of pain to myself or others. \n\nI open my eyes to see that there is light again. Much of the surrounding area is in flames, giving a bright, menacing glow to all of Central Park. Windows are shattered, glass is still raining down from the many skyscrapers. \n\nI gaze in the direction that I believe the object went, and instead of seeing the usual high rises and roads, there is a large crater, littered with sparkles of glass from both the windows of the buildings and the extreme heat burning the ground. \n\nThere is no more screaming, only the roars of the flames, the taps of the window shards hitting concrete, and the ringing in my ears. \n\nBut I hear another sound...like pressure releasing from a valve. I stare down into the crater at the source of the hiss, and see large metal object with one word on the side. \n\n“Pravda-1.”\n\nA section of the object pops outwards, accompanied by another hiss and a thick plume of white smoke. Two figures emerge from the object, wearing bright orange clothes and large helmets. \n\nMy heart is racing faster than the ship was as it flew by me, and I attempt to step backwards, trying to turn and run, but lose my footing and begin sliding down into the crater, towards the figures. \n\nI scramble, trying to find something to grip onto, but continue careening downwards, stopping a mere ten feet from what I can now see are two people, both aged well beyond anybody I have ever met. They simultaneously remove their helmets, letting them slam into the ground, and my eyes meet theirs. A man and a woman, both seemingly empty. The looks in their eyes are glazed over, and I can only imagine that the look in mine is one of pure terror.\n\nThe couple begins stepping towards me, chanting. \n\n“Ложь! Ложь! Они все ложь! Ложь! Ложь! Они все ложь!”\n\nI fumble for my weapon, having a great amount of trouble removing it from the pocket in which it is holstered. \n\nI get the slightest feeling of relief as I am able to aim, but when I pull the trigger, all I hear is a faint click. \n\nThe couple continues advancing, chanting, “Ложь! Ложь! Они все ложь! Ложь! Ложь! Они все ложь!” \n\nIt is at this moment that I choose NOT to accept death. I don’t want to give up, I want to fight it, but I’m unable to move!\n\nI try and yell, but nothing comes out. I continue straining my voice, attempting to make the slightest noise, anything, as the man leans over me and grabs my arms, constricting me to the point where all I can do is squirm. I stare into his dark, glazed eyes, and close my eyes, losing all hope. \n\nThen I’m able to utter a scream, and I open my eyes and see myself in the mirror attached to the ceiling of the room. I lay there, strapped to the stretcher. I turn my head to the left, and see a canister of gas. I turn to the right, and see the words Lenox Hill Insanity Ward* on the wall. \n\n“Please stop squirming while we administer your medicine, sir,” I hear the nurse say. \n\nShe then turns the valve on the gas canister, and I fade out to that familiar hiss.", "CRASH\n\nA fireball erupts through the trees, as an aged space vessel collides with the earth. Men and women scream and run, and even the mime silently pretending to be stuck in a glass box just seconds before seemed to have found his voice again.\n\nThe ship finally came to a halt between old maples, which groaned at the force they had suddenly been burdened with. Not many people remained in the park, but the few people who did rushed to the scene, iPhones in hand, ready first to take pictures for Instagram and second to call 911. \n\nAs the few brave citizens reached the space vessel, they paused suddenly before coming closer; the ship was emblazoned with a large red hammer and sickle. What could this mean? Were the Russians attacking the US? Before anyone could even scream, the airlock door on one side of the ship hissed and the door fell off of its once secure hinges.\n\nFrom the steaming wreckage came.... two bears, dressed in space uniforms. The once stalwart citizens started backpedaling; just a minute before they had observed a spaceship crash in their beloved park, yet the dopey, hobbling bears that emerged frightened them worse than the crash itself. The bears stumbled over to the nearest trees and fell on their sides, relishing the stable ground after a painful and rude end to their voyage. \n\nAnimal Control was called before homeland security that day, for no reason other than the fact that two bears emerged from the wreck. One homeless man even offered his paper bagged bottle of Vodka to see if he could get the bears to dance, only to be brushed aside as the bears were tranquilized and loaded into large vans. It was decided that the bears would be taken to the New York Zoo, rather than being released into the wild, due to their invasive heritage.\n\nThe bears awoke, naked without their suits. But they raised their heads, met eyes, and one said quietly to the other: Мы находимся в *(We're in)." ]	2
	[WP] Write the most sarcastic and passive-aggressive resignation letter for an unfair employer	[ "Dear Theater Manager,\n\nI am writing to inform you of my two weeks notice.\n\nAs much as I have enjoyed working in a high pressure environment, I must now acknowledge my doctor's wishes and move on to an environment that is more conducive to my cardiovascular health.\n\nI have gained so much knowledge and experience from the tutelage of name removed whose frequent oversight was not at all a challenge in the fast paced environment of theater projection. It is made more encouraging to a young person like myself that a man of so many years, who has in fact not touched a projector in as many years as I have lived, is so knowledgeable about the machines and their operation. This has made my five years of working more enjoyable, they have simply flown by.\n\nI will be sad to leave an environment where management is so firm in defending it's employees against the consumer. I cannot count the times management was there to uphold my decision in the face of the customer. I have lost count of the number of times management supporting the customer, and I am sorely saddened to leave a workplace that holds their patrons in such high regard so as to counter an employee in front of those same patrons.\n\nI am also quite upset by the loss of valuable work experience gained after hours or before shifts, where I provided work that was not compensated but instead gained life knowledge that will prove forever valuable. Such as wound treatment, the cleaning of grease spills, painting, chemical burns, and plumbing. To have such hands on knowledge for no cost to the company, I cannot express my gratitude.\n\nIn summary, thank you for the amazing experience that I will cherish for years to come as I embrace the freedom that comes with no longer being in your employ.\n\nWarmest and Kindest Regards,\nname removed\n\n\n(This is extremely close to a letter I actually wrote for a former employer)", "Dear Board of Directors,\n\nIt is with great anguish that I must immediately tenure my resignation. For 13 years I have tried to live up to the standards and practices laid out by the board to the best of my ability and in this regard I have failed. My folly comes with the special assignment over the Christmas break while the office was closed. You had chosen me, at the behest of the IRS to abstain from the holiday weekend in order to securely file our earnings reports that did not make it into the published report to the investors. I regret to inform you instead of filling the information into our vault and send the IRS the tax sheets, I in fact sent them the unreported earnings report. It was a blunder caused by lack of sleep and heat in the office, but it was my mistake. I wanted to rectify this situation as best I could so I sat with the IRS and explained in as clear and complete detail where all the money had gone. Thankfully I had a list if all the major offshore accounts and we were able to trace all the paperwork back so I could file it properly in our system. I thanked the officers and gave them all the envelopes Mr. Peterson keeps in his drawer for when auditors usually show up as a common courtesy. \nWhich leads me to why I must resign; with the tight budget crafted by the board and the frantic nature of work I was forced to do this entire Christmas holiday I saw no reason to waste time or water in the executive bathrooms ( the only ones not locked). Instead I relieved myself on the substance most suited to absorb odor and detritus material, the red oak desks in the executive wing. I realize now this was a mistake and am truly sorry.\n\nYours cordially\nLittlebigs5", "To my most beloved employer\n\nAs much as I regret to state my resignation, I must bid you and the company adieu. I will always remember everything you have done for me and the lessons I have learned under your care for the past few years.\n\nFor example, I will never forget how you would watch me while I was getting coffee, and proceeded to explain to me that I was using far too much sugar and creamer in it. After all, how could I have forgotten that it isn't healthy to consume more than one packet of sugar a day, what with all these diabetics around. How great you must be to be on the lookout for my health, you must work in the soup kitchen on your free time out of work. Why, you must be giving a lot back to our community, as I never seem to see you more than once a week in the office, but have no worries on your work. I always remembered to do your share of work whenever I can, spending my free time helping out somebody as great as you. I admire you so much that I was shocked when I saw that I wasn't paid for doing your work, I expected to have the time I wasted be deducted from my salary. Though I felt better when you decided to shatter a computer in frustration, likely due to not helping out puppy shelters as well, and decided to have me pay for a newer more powerful one likely so you could use it to cure cancer. Besides, it's not like my mother really needed my income to help pay for her treatment for Lou Gehrig's disease. After all, she is incapable of any motion of her body whatsoever now, so it's not like she can complain. Or blink. \n\nAnyway, I could never forget how much you sacrificed for me when you decided to take my prototype and display it to the CEO. Why, I worked on it so hard that I neglected to realize how much of an impact the sudden promotion would have on my life. You have no idea how happy I was to see that you got a pay raise, a raise you will likely spend feeding stray puppies, and vacation time that I anticipate will be full of helping the homeless. \n\nI respect you so much that I decided to get a little gift for you on your birthday. I know that you are likely to be extremely stressed out, so I decided to get a few bottles of vicodin, a pound of Marijuana, and even some fancy shrooms I personally grew myself. I realize that you might be a bit lonely with these gifts, so I decided to invite some of your family over as well, telling them about the contents of your locker. Anonymously of course, as that would be rude of me to attempt to assert myself in your life. In addition to that, I wrote this letter in disappearing ink, so everything this says will disappear as you read it so you could reuse the paper when you are done. Oh, I also decided to send some other guests to your locker, as I know how much you love to share. Such as the CEO and the entire DEA so they could wish you a happy birthday.", "To the most esteemed team-manager in the literary world, \nI sorely regret to inform you that I will be giving my 14 day notice to resign as of today's date. \nI will miss the challenging and varying working conditions. I would always be thrilled to know whether I would be scanning books for history or science for the coming hours. When I found out that scanning other school items was also part of my job description I giggled with delight for the rest of the shift. \nI have grown much in this job and I hope to continue growing at the same rate. The thought that the day I started working here I could only scan 150 books in an hour, while I can now reach easily 6000 a day is just mind blowing to me. Your management practices and your adherence to Fordism, with everyone having their own tasks, means that everyone is acutely specialized to keep the company running like a well oiled machine. \nI am also flattered by the care, respect and humanity with which you treat your employees. I was impressed when one of my colleagues was taken extremely seriously when she told the supervisor her scanning machine was slow. I am similarly amazed with how well the regulations for heavy physical work are applied. Not once did I see a 15 year old hold more than the maximum amount of weight he was allowed to carry! \nNonetheless there is a slight negative that made me reconsider working at this book company. When I worked out that I only needed to scan and sticker 3 books to earn a cent I thought that this job was quite well-paid. Unfortunately, I found another job paying more than the required 2.53 euros an hour for a 15 year old and the difference in financial prospects is so great that I believe I can no longer work for you, even though I will always remember my time at your company with fondness and even longing. \nYours sincerely, \nnr. 23178", "Chris,\n\nThanks for your time earlier. I'd love to apologise for things coming to a head, but apologies do not seem to be part of the team ethic here, regardless of who errs. And to err is human. Perhaps that's part of the problem - my humanity.\n\nSince the increased employment of orcish soldiers, guards and indeed every day administrative employees, I have found myself increasingly over-looked. For promotions, money, recognition; everything. \n\nI'm not sure I believe any longer in the Dark Lord's project. Frankly, some of the so-called propaganda from the other side is starting to have a ring of truth about it. Some of our activities do smack, at the least extent, of sharp practice.\n\nWorking conditions are also poor. My letters of complaint about some of our safety procedures have gone disregarded. Whatever the powers-that-be may think, I do not believe a pathway direct into the heart of our territory should be left entirely to the ministrations and protection of a giant spider. Who, lest you forget, is responsible for several deaths amongst the staff. The high rate of casualty in the departments throughout Mordor is frankly bewildering. \n\nNot to mention the over-crowding. For instance, I was playing pool in the guard tower last night, and the pressure to get off the table was extraordinary. I can only play so fast. There are only so many frames per second I can shoot comfortably!\n\nAnyway, please accept this as my resignation. I will try and leave without causing any lasting damage to the Company though, out of my own sense of misplaced loyalty. I'll just start a little scuffle in the guard tower, and during the confusion, I'll be on my way. No-one gets hurt, see. \n\nWish you all the best with the tricky situations developing around Gondor.\n\nThanks\n\nGary\n\n", "Dear Executive Committee,\n\nI regret to inform you that I will be giving my 14 day notice to resign as of today's date.\n\nThank you, so much, for all the opportunity you've given me. Never before in my life have I had to learn how to be so independent. The valuable skills in how to defend my work and my job will serve me well in the future.\n\nPlease let Greg know, personally, that I appreciate how much oversight he gave. Some call that micromanaging, I just call it being well-informed. How could he do his job well if I wasn't required to ask permission to go to the bathroom. As he always said, \"If you're not at your desk, you're not working.\" Amazing that, in this day and age, anyone would think you could get work done anywhere but at your desk. You should certainly commend Martin for this, as he doesn't leave his desk all day. As his cubicle partner, the special \"sun tea\" he has in that large jar was a pleasant addition.\n\nI appreciate, too, how hard you all worked to make me feel comfortable. The random drug tests were a welcome event; especially since they were taken every week. I appreciate, too, the thoroughness of them. My chemo medication showed up in every test, and the extra day off to present my case to the Board so I could keep my job served almost like a three-day weekend.\n\nI also want to thank Pam in accounting. Without her diligence, I may have gotten a paycheck on time. However, the juggle between which bills I had to pay on what date only added spice to life. Coupled with the medical bills, this was certainly a fun game of When Will I Get Paid.\n\nI know times have been tough around here. I watched most of my friends get fired or laid off for almost no reason. I read all your memos though; the Recession ended in 2009, yet it was the number 1 reason for lay offs and termination last year. Crazy to think how slow the economic growth is huh? In an unrelated note, my son is taking flight lessons and bumped into Mr. Fitzgerald purchasing his third -- sorry, fourth -- private jet. Be safe in those skies!\n\nNot to take up too much of your time, I understand you're all busy. Mr. Emerson's bottle of scotch isn't going to drink itself! I hate to ruin a good surprise, but just a friendly heads-up, there will be a representative from the IRS appearing soon. I won't tell you when, it'll be my gift to you. Remember the monthly birthday parties, where sometimes we would get cake? Well it'll be like that. Except you're definitely getting a visit.\n\nThanks for the 10 wasted years here. I hope I never see any of you again as long as I live; which may not be long, since you cancelled all our benefits packages, and I haven't been able to afford treatment.\n\nSincerely,\n\nJohn Campbell" ]	6
	[WP] Colossal gears grind and moan as they begin to turn into motion. A small light at the center propagates and begins to flicker. Your heart sinks. The Global Machine has been activated.	[ "He is adding some final embellishments to a set of models, working intently beneath a large magnifying glass at his bench. A bit more sharpness to this one’s horn. A darker shade of orange for this one’s fire. This will be the most interesting set yet, he thinks. His mind wanders, imagining how he will reconcile these figures with the cases upon cases of other models that fill his shop. While he imagines, his hand slips and contacts the immense device shrouded by a drop cloth beside his work station. A deep churning sound emits from below the sheet. He is startled by the noises, but quickly realizes what has happened. \n\n“No! What have I done? It is far too early! There is much left to prepare, to test, to ensure.”\n\nHe whisks the cloth away and searches frantically along the mechanical behemoth. He lifts panels, engages levers, contorts himself to examine below the frame. He extracts himself from beneath the machine and stares at the methodical process that is now underway. Larger and larger gears start making their rotations. He knows well that he cannot halt or reverse it, for he designed the machine and employed strict specifications.\n\nA faint glimmer begins to radiate from within the beast. He takes one final moment to think about all of the things that he had yet to perfect. He removes his apron and sighs.\n\n“Let there be light.”", "There was only one reason for the global machine to activate. Something big had entered Earth's atmosphere. Something sentient.\n\nAs chief engineer, my supervisor William Malcomson slowly shook his greying head and peered over to the rest of us.\n\n\"This is not a drill.\"\n\nIn a burst, hundreds of engineers were running to their stations. From Level Ones, who had been operating Project Golum from day one, to Level Fives, such as myself, who were relegated to the tasks of maintenance and optimization. \n\nWhen I finally got to my station, it seemed so unbelievably foreign; Perhaps it was the flashing red lights, or the words \"caution\" flashing across the screen. Shaking, I managed to type in my password: bluethumb, and watched as my machine whirred to life. \n\nLoudspeakers blared to life: \"This is Malcomson. We have contact with an unknown form in the Los Angeles area. We have activated the world machine.\"\n\nThe world would finally know what their best scientists have been working on since the Roswell incident.\n\n\"Area seven is reporting ready. Area twenty-five is reporting ready.\"\n\nThere was a pause. \"Area fifty-one is reporting ready.\"\n\nWith that, I closed my eyes and pressed the giant blinking button in front of me, it's cold metallic frame icing my already shivering hands. And as I did, I felt the weight of the hundreds of buttons in our Area being pressed. The loudspeaker blared to life.\n\n\"Project Golum is go.\"\n\nAnd somewhere in the eastern Pacific, something giant peeked it's metal head out of the water\n\nlooking to the skies", "\"Can I push the button yet?\" A young boy pleads, sensing your project is close to completion.\n\n\"Not yet, Gabe. Go play, I'll let you know when it's ready, and then you can turn it on, ok?\"\n\nHe runs off.\n\nYou've been working on this thing non-stop for months. It looks like a gigantic spheroid clock of some kind. Discarded pieces of the machinery litter your entire house, as you tinker with every little detail. Remnants of a few previous versions remain floating around, a couple have been incorporated into your current model. You're just about to remove another cog to make one final change when the doorbell rings.\n\n\"Lucy! Hi!\" You welcome your old friend with a hug that she is all too happy to return.\n\n\"It's been too long. How are you doing? Still working on that little project of yours?\"\n\n\"Haha, yeah. First couple of attempts didn't work.\" You invite her in and show her the still-smouldering remains of your first model, taking up a sizeable portion of your living room. \"This one crashed and burned, and that one,\" you point to the smaller, more compact version, \"I dunno, it just died. But this one's gonna be perfect, self correcting, I've just got one last bug to figure out.\"\n\nThe boy, hearing the conversation, races downstairs again to catch the two of you leaning over the console admiring the new machine.\n\n\"Hi Gabriel!\"\n\n\"Hi Lucy.\"\n\n\"You've gotten big, haven't you?\" she said, picking him up and noticing the rock in his hand. \"What's this for?\"\n\nYou just smile. \"He's been playing with his dinosaurs.\"\n\n\"Woops!\" The rock slips out of Gabriel's hand and Lucy, trying to catch it, ends up knocking it onto the keyboard.\n\n\"NO!\" You shout.\n\nColossal gears grind and moan as they begin to turn into motion. A small light at the centre propagates and begins to flicker. Your heart sinks. The Global Machine has been activated.\n\n\"Oh, I'm so sorry. I hope I didn't mess anything up.\" Lucy said, and set the boy down.\n\n\"No, it's ok,\" you assure her. \"It's self correcting, maybe it won't matter.\"\n\nNoticing your morose expression as you look over the ticking gears, she decides to give you some space. \"Maybe I should go. Let you sort it all out.\"\n\n\"Yeah. I'm just... it was nice seeing you again.\"\n\nAs she reaches the door, Lucy turns back to you. \"I'm having a barbecue with my friends this Sunday, you should come along.\"", "The Global Machine.\n\nConstruction commenced in the late 2070s at the command of the Reformed United Nations Committee. Forty years, twenty-two days and nine hours later, I watch the holo-screen mounted high on my cell wall along with the thirteen other inmates stocked like sardines inside of this 8x10 concrete prison. \n\nSomeone's fat presses into my spine. An arm knocks me roughly to the side, where I ram painfully into another prisoner. Though we are cramped, however, we are all silent, our eyes glued to the holo-screen as if magnetically attracted to the shaky picture. \n\nA blurry image of an International Senator flickers onscreen. I don't know who he is until ticker tape runs along the bottom, declaring him as Robin Decorum, the very man who proposed the Global Machine's construction. He is smiling with every single one of his perfect white teeth, and, though I know he has nothing to do with it, I curse him internally for the eight I've lost since being imprisoned in this shithole.\n\n\"Today, ladies and gentlemen of every country on Earth, I announce to you the successful completion of the Global Machine, which is finally complete and ready for activation.\" \n\nI hate the curve of his lips as he speaks. His disgusting tongue as it flops lazily in his mouth. I want to rip it out of his head.\n\n\"As you all know, Earth is a spectacular place full of opportunities and successes.\"\n\nBullshit.\n\n\"However, unlike the majority of Earth's citizens, some have chosen to disobey international law. Some have chosen to become criminals who use the pain and misfortune of others in order to further their own selfish agendas.\" \n\nBullshit bullshit bullshit. I attacked an International Defense Officer who was arresting a seven year old kid for throwing rocks. Yeah, I nearly killed him. But he nearly killed me first.\n\nI was charged with assaulting an IDO. \n\nAnd terrorism.\n\nThen I was sentenced to five life sentences in one of 19 million International Penitentiaries.\n\n\"The number of criminals has been exponentially increasing over the last fifty years. Now, our prisons are overcrowded, unregulated, and dangerous for the guards working within. The amount of resources we have wasted on maintaining the health and well-being of these prisoners is astronomically high.\"\n\nBullshit again. I watched No. 33241 starve to death last week.\n\n\"That is why the creation of the Global Machine is so significant. Because, for the first time ever, Earth can be a place free of crime and criminals. The Global Machine terraformed by the Reformed United Nations is perfectly capable of housing every one of the billion criminals stationed in penitentiaries on Earth.\"\n\nIt's going to happen. They're going to ship all of us out of this shithole and literally to another planet. So they don't have to deal with us anymore. \n\n\"The self-sustaining Global Machine, once activated, will require no further assistance from Earth. Once the prisoners are released there, it will be possible for them to survive due to the fertile environment. We will not contact them in any way other than to deliver necessary resources such as medical supplies and foodstuffs. In other words, they will no longer plague Earth's financial resources.\"\n\nThe speech is greeted with thunderous applause. Us inmates are silent. \n\nThe holo-screen flashes again, to reveal the Global Machine itself. Colossal gears grind and moan as they begin to turn into motion. A small light at the center propagates and begins to flicker. My heart sinks. The Global Machine has been activated. \n\nNo. 1553233 grins. \"We're getting back our freedom. Finally.\"\n\nSome inmates seem to agree, sharing his enthusiasm. But most of us are shellshocked. I see more than one tear. \n\n\"To the WALL!\" A guard screams from outside.\n\nWe all struggle, shoving ourselves in bunches against the far wall to the cell. Hands up, feet apart. I'm stepped on countless times, but none of us care. None of us want to get shot for disobedience.\n\n\"We're taking you to transport one at a time.\" Something jams painfully into my back. It's probably a gun.\n\n\"You first. Put your hands behind your back.\"\n\nI do it. The metal handcuffs are cold and too tight. I'm escorted by one of the guards out of the cell, down a dimly lit hallway. The smell is horrendous. It's a mixture of shit, vomit, sweat, and blood. Cells lining the hallway are packed with prisoners. None call out to us- they know they'll be punished if they disobey. There are a billion prisoners on this planet, and not a single one of them will disobey. \n\nWe reach a small room. It is dirty and unfurnished. \n\n\"Get on your knees.\" The guard orders. \n\n\"Wait, what? I though I was being transferred-\" His gun connects with my jaw and knocks me sideways. I shut the hell up and do what he says, face throbbing in pain.\n\nMy guts churn. What's going on?\n\n\"You're all disgusting, every single one of you. But they're even worse, aren't they?\" \n\nI don't respond, I just look up at the him. I'm about to piss myself. What is going on? Is this the transport? \n\n\"The Global Machine.\" I finally say. \"How am I going to get there?\"\n\nThis time, the guard's reaction is unexpected. Instead of attacking me, he grins and lets out a violently stirring laugh. He's so loud that it shocks me, and I jump.\n\n\"The Global Machine? Oh, boy. You bought that shit. You think that the government is gonna build themselves a new planet and then put prisoners up there? Hell no. There's not enough money on all of Earth to terraform shit.\"\n\nI'm shivering. I hope that I'm wrong about what comes next. I pray a silent prayer that I am wrong about what comes next.\n\n\"The only thing this government had enough money for was bullets. About a billion of 'em.\"\n\nHe cocks his gun." ]	4
	[WP] You are told that you can be cloned to rid your body of cancer and any future illness. However, due to cloning laws you will be terminated. While your clone has retained all of your memories as his own, something happens that makes him realize that he is not the original.	[ "\"Didn't you have a birthmark on the back of your neck?\" Amy said as she gently ran her fingers through my hair.\n\n\"Huh? No, I don't think so.\"\n\nAmy stopped her soft petting and stared quizzically at the back of my neck for quite some time before saying \"I'm pretty sure you did.\" At this point, I was rather baffled. Amy and I have been dating for three years, and suddenly she's decided to make up some sort of birth mark?\n\n\"Amy,\" I said. \"Wouldn't I know if I had a birth mark or not?\"\n\n\"Well, yes. I suppose you would.\"\n\n\"Then I can guarantee you that I have never had a birth mark. I can also guarantee you that I never will.\"\n\n\"Wait,\" she sputtered. \"Take off your shirt.\"\n\n\"Really? I'm not in the mood right now.\"\n\n\"I'm not trying to have sex with you, just take off your shirt.\"\n\n\"Well, now I'm a little disappointed. Fine.\" I took my shirt off. She snatched it out of my hands and threw it on the floor. I spun around to look at her, but she twisted my body back, making me face the mirrored cabinet again. \"What are you doing?\" I asked.\n\n\"Just hold still,\" she replied. God, I loved her accent. There's something so elegant about Brits that I can't seem to get over. \"Ha! I knew you had a birth mark!\" She ran her fingers down my spine and stopped a quarter of the way up my back, slightly off to the right. \"See?\" she said spinning me around so I could look at my back in the cabinet. She was right, I had a rather large, yet faint, birthmark on my back.\n\n\"Okay, so what? I don't have one on my neck, I was just confused,\" I replied. \n\n\"You said you didn't have a birth mark. You lied.\"\n\n\"I told you, I was confused. What does it matter, anyway? It's just a birth mark.\"\n\nShe sat in silence for a few moments before I saw her eyes widen. \n\n\"Is something wrong?\" I asked, growing a little more than a little concerned about the condition of my back. What if, I thought, there is some nasty deformity that I had failed to notice. Or cancer. I've already had a cancerous mole once, I'm not looking forward to another.\n\n\"No. I don't know. Maybe.\" She was growing more and more panicked--it wasn't obvious, but I could see it in her eyes. \"Is there any reason,\" she continued, \"that you would have a birth mark that says #2903?\"\n\n\"2903?\"\n\nThen, it hit me. All of the memories came rushing back--the cancer, the chemo, the doctor telling me I was definitely not going to make it. And then, the last resort: I could clone myself. I could clone myself and be rid of the cancer--any illnesses really, but there was one catch... I'm the clone, and the real me had to die.", "Our mother's hand slips from my shoulder as I step forward. \n\nMy strides are painless and sure. My breaths come easily. I'm still not used to that. \n\nI kneel on the sparse grass and lay down the lily I brought. Reaching out, I run my steady fingers over my own name.\n\nI whisper, \"Thank you.\"", "\"What do you want me to do next?\" asked Jon as he uploaded the latest reviews. \n\n\"Can you go to the server room and check on T2A63 for me?\" replied Mr. Hollinsworth as he went back into his corner office overlooking the gleaming towers that comprised downtown. \n\nT2A63 was a location identification number. A way for the employees to track each piece of equipment in the server room. The number Mr. Hollinsworth had asked Jon to inspect resided at the far end of the room, tucked away in the very last case of row T2. \n\nJon popped the latch open on the server's housing and performed the typical diagnostics. Everything looks fine, he told himself as he reached for the latch door. \n\nAs his hand went to close the housing he noticed a note on the door. He looked behind him to make sure no one was nearby and pulled the tape off the piece of paper. Jon unfolded the note and read: \n\nYou are a clone of your former self. I know this won't make much sense, but you are a nearly perfect being. They take great care to rid you of any ailments and transplant all your memories. \n\nI say this with extreme caution that I've noticed your memories aren't the same as they once were. You recall events that have occured in your past that I know happened differently. I fear that they altered your memories to best suit some need of theirs. For what purpose, I'm not sure. Normally I wouldn't say anything, seeing as many clones work around us everyday, but I have never seen so many inconsistencies with memory like I have with yours. We can talk more about this in private tonight after work at Brother's Lounge. I feel like I will likely come to regret this, but this company has some secrets that you may need to know of... \n\nJon stood up slowly and looked around once more. It's not addressed to anyone and has no other name to identify the writer, he thought to himself. He closed the latch and slid the note into his back pocket. Not quite sure what to make of the situation, Jon decided he would keep cool and pretend like he didn't see the letter. This has to be some kind of joke. \n\nAs Jon exited the server room he walked back down the hall thinking he would take a trip past Mr. Hollinsworth's office to see if he acted any differently now, assuming he penned the note. \n\nHollinsworth was a class act, always pulling pranks on his employees. I must admit, this one is creative. With a big fake smile and on his face, Jon whistled a few lines as he round the corner. What the hell? Jon's smile immediately turned into a frozen look of terror. It took every muscle in his face to remain collected. A feeling of immense heat rose through his whole body and could not move another step forward. There was a group of his coworkers huddled around Hollinsworth's office, several of whom were crying, consoling each other. Paramedics were crouched around a figure laying still on the floor. \n\nJon darted back around the corner, ran to his cubicle, and grabbed his keys. He knew there was one place he could get an answer. " ]	3
	[WP] A woman accidentally discovers that anything she does to a photograph of a person happens to that person in real life exactly 74 minutes later	[ "Amber squeezed the middle of her forehead with her fingertips and sighed. She had woken up with the strangest headache. She poured herself a cup of coffee, grabbed her Nylon magazine and slumped into the couch. She flipped the TV on, sipped her coffee and flipped through the magazine. More violence in the Middle East. The Juicy Couture perfume on page 50 was too flowery. She checked the clock: 7:12 am. She ran her fingers through her short auburn hair. She should wash it, but then it would just sit flat. Fuck it, it's not that dirty. She refilled her coffee. The co-anchor on the morning news show was not pulling off her tight yellow dress, even with the obvious Spanx. Salvation appeared on page 79, Pixie Play Crafting Cream. She tore the corner quarter page out. The other side of the page had Vanessa Hudgens's shoulder and upper arm. Crap. That was why she bought the magazine in the first place. \"Sorry Vanessa\", Amber said to the torn page. She folded it up and slipped it in her phone case next to her coupons. 7:23. Time to get ready.\n\n\n12:23. Amber was checking her email before heading out to lunch. She was going to meet Marissa at a cafe down the street. Her headache was still there, and Joyce wasn't helping. Did she even read her emails before sending them? Amber logged out of her computer and headed to the elevator. In the elevator she tapped open the news app on her phone. A headline jumped out: Vanessa Hudgens severely injured in auto collision. She tapped the story but nothing happened, lost in a zone between wifi and cell coverage. Finally at ground floor, she trotted out and reloaded the story. She skimmed through the article \"...initial unconfirmed reports that the actress's right arm was torn off at the shoulder in the collision...\" Amber dropped her phone and stood gap-mouthed. What were the odds? A man picked up her phone and handed it to her. \"Thanks\", she smiled. 12:31. She was late for lunch. \n\n\n1:12. Marissa, who was playing with her long dark curls sat across from Amber who was picking at her fries. \"Trust me Amb, it's just a coincidence, you do not have magical powers\" She laughed and tossed the folded up piece of magazine on Amber's plate. \n\"Fine, I'll prove it\" Amber said, putting the paper in her pocket. \"Do you still have the Mardi Gras photo in your purse?\"\n\n\"Yes\" Marissa burst out laughing, \"but you're not going to tear that!\"\n\n\"I won't, I won't, just let me see it for a sec.\"\n\nMarissa produced a small 4x6 photo album from her massive purse. Tucked behind a photo of her cat Mittens, was the Mardi Gras photo. In it, Marissa and Amber had massive drunken smiles and their shirts pulled up, exposing their breasts. \n\n\"Don't ruin it though\" Marissa said.\n\n\"I won't\", Amber said grabbing her fork and wiping it clean. \"Anyways didn't you print like 50 fucking copies of this that one time?\" With the tip of her fork, Amber made a tiny indentation on the photo where Marissa's left elbow was. \"There\", she said, handing it back.\n\nMarissa examined the photo, looked at her elbow and showed it to Amber, \"See? No dents. No voodoo magic\".\n\n\"Maybe it takes time, anyways, it'd be your left elbow\" Amber said, \"What time is it?\"\n\n\"1:15 why\"\n\n\"Shit, I'm late. Can you wait for the bill?\" Amber asked, handing Marissa two twenties. \n\n\"Yes ma'am\", Marissa winked.\n\n\n4:32. Amber was just returning to her desk. The meeting had run long by an hour. Joyce's meetings were almost an incomprehensible as her emails. There was a red light on her phone, indicating she had a message. She picked the receiver up and punched in her pin number. It was Marissa. \n\n“Okay you got me Amb. You're fucking hilarious. Seriously, how did you get a bike messenger in on it? Anyways call me tonight.” Amber hung up the phone, picked it back up and dialed. \n\n“Marissa, it's me”, Amber said “what exactly happened?”\n\n“Oh queen of the pranks, calling to make sure it all played out perfectly?”\n\n“Just tell me!”\n\n“Fine, fine. I had just left the cafe and was walking down the street when out of nowhere some bike messenger whacked me in the elbow with his bike.”\n\n“Your left elbow?”\n\n“Yes my left, if fucking hurt! Listen I'm going through the tunnel, I'll call you later.”\n\nAmber hung up the phone and tapped her fingers on her desk. She logged on her computer and after a flurry of typing and clicking found what she was looking for. She hit print, twice. She dashed for the color printer one floor up, taking the stairs. Luckily no one was near the printer, and she snatched her printouts just as the second was coming out. \n\nBack at her desk, after some very careful cutting and a bit of tape, she admired her work. It was a picture of Amber and Marissa cut out and taped down on a picture of a beach with teal water surround by high cliffs and lush vegetation. She checked her phone: 5:12 pm. \n\n\n6:25 pm. Amber was waiting in line at a drug store with a bottle of water and bottle of Excedrin. The smell coming from the elderly woman in front of her was making her nauseous. She thought she heard someone call her name and she turned to look and\n\n–\nIt was Marissa. And they were at the beach. Marissa looked at her wide-eyed, her mouth open but not saying anything. Amber looked around. She felt the warm breeze and inhaled the salty sea air. A great big smile crossed her face.\n\n“What the fu, where the fuck - What's going on?” Marissa blurted out. \n\n“We're in Baia do Sancho”, Amber said turning to face the water and spread her arms wide. \n\n“Brazil?” Marissa asked.\n\n“Yup. I taped a picture of us here and look what happened. Voodoo magic.”, she smiled at Marissa.\n\n“So the elbow think wasn't a prank?” Marissa started walking up the beach towards the cliffs. \n\n“Nope” Marissa took her pumps off and followed her.\n\n“What's with the pills?” Marissa pointed to the bottle in her hand.\n\n“Oh these? I've had a weird headache all day. You know what? It's gone now!” Amber threw the bottle high into the air towards the thick blanket of plants ahead. \n\n“Don't litter Amb! You know how I feel --” the bottle seemed to hit an invisible wall and fell straight down.\n\nAmber and Marissa looked and each other and jogged ahead. Marissa picked up the stretched her arm out forward. “There's nothing there”, she said. \n\nAmber tried taking a step, lost her balance and fell down. Marissa helped her up and slowly leaned forward, taking miniscule steps. She could not advance. “It's not like a wall, but it's like something is holding me down.” Marissa reported.\n\n“Fuck.” Amber said. She took a few steps back to the beach, collapsed into the sand and began sobbing. \n\n“What? What is it Amb?” Marissa said, kneeling beside her and rubbing her back. \n\n“I taped the fucking picture down” Amber said between sobs, “we're stuck, literally stuck here!”\n\nMarissa looked around and sighed. She sat in the sand next to Amber and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Well I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be stuck or anyone I'd rather be stuck with.”\n\n\n" ]	1
	[Wp] "The mighty hero fell to his knees and wept."	[ "The mighty hero fell to his knees and wept. The battle was over, but nothing would be the same. So many lives lost on this day and he wept in joy. This fight had not been in vain. His fallen comrades has not died in vain, and now he wouldn't. Blood seeped from where his hand laid on his abdomen. He had other cuts and bruises, but he knew this one was fatal. It didn't matter anymore though. The rest of humanity would be safe. Hot tears still fell as he remembered when they first showed up. Reptilian like creatures with thick hide had landed and demanded blood. They killed many, including all of the world leaders and declared themselves the new leaders. They claimed they needed slaves after all. They stated humans were some of the weakest in the galaxy. He smirked slightly they could be right, but humans sure ban together and put up a hell of a fight when it's needed. Weird we needed to be almost wiped out for peace between the nations. \n\nSome of us humans escaped and we built a rebellion against them. They weren't easy to defeat and the rebellion had to form and strengthen weapons that would cut through the skin. Specialized bullets and even blades and arrows. The humans on earth were now somewhere in the thousands, which isn't a lot, but it's enough to insure there is a future. His eyes looked ahead at the alien leader who had a sword through its head. The bastard still got back up after that. He was forced to grab a discarded blade after that and finish it with another shoved down its throat. All was silent around him but the wind now. He allowed himself to collapse to the ground. It was okay to rest now. The war was won. Humanity was free again and everyone who died and fought for humanity would be declared heroes. Life for a while would be rocky. There was much to clean up and many more bodies to bury. New governments would have to be established. Humanity had a lot of work. The hero closed his eyes and let eternal sleep cover him. When people found his body later they found a content smile and slight tear tracks on his face.", "The paralysis took hold of Wally. He was a red streak in the dark room until only a moment ago. An unstoppable blaze, the world seemingly stopping around him. \n\nBut now he found the aspic of the world catching up to him. It still seemed just as slow, only now he could do nothing to outrun it. It was maddening. His mind still raced, but his feet wouldn't carry him further, as he could only lurch towards his mortal enemy. \n\nHe watched as the Mirror Master's knife hand seemed to move as if it was restrained by a thousand elephants, yet surely making its way closer to Iris' throat. Only a few feet away, yet unable to make his move - Wally never felt more powerless, but unless he acted his dear aunt Iris would die.\n\nWith the last of his strength, he stretched his arm and let it hurtle toward his face. As his fist connected, it felt like a ton of bricks, but it gave him what he wanted a tooth came loose. \n\nQuickly collecting it with his other hand, he it fly in the direction of his nemesis. He watched as the bullet slowly made its way, through the air, moving slower than molasses. Yet when it found its mark - even the Flash, who was used to wishing that things change in an instant - just so it would be fast enough for him found its effect too quick to comprehend. \n\nAs the knife hand fell to the ground detached from the body, the projectile had found another mark - with half of the Mirror Master's head blown away. \n\nIris was safe, but Wally's hands finally matched his suit, and the mighty hero fell to his knees and wept. ", "The mighty hero fell to his knees and wept. The tears streamed hot against his face cutting small paths through the dirt and blood caked to his cheeks. No... he thought. How is it not enough? He could hear the screams of the dying in the distance, each one chilling him to the bone. They had only one shot, and they had given it everything. How is it not enough? the thought echoed in his mind. He lifted his head and gazed out at the field, soaked red with blood and the light of the fires. The horizon was aglow with the light of the setting sun, carving their silhouettes into the sky. The Others. The evil hordes spawned from the depths of Hell itself. Untiring. Unwavering. Merciless. Humanity was down to its last breath. He stood, took up his dark stained blade and thought, if we are truly to die tonight, we'll make that last breath a roar.", "The mighty hero fell to his knees and wept. For lying on the ground broken was the love of his life. His own sword protruded out of her belly as she lay calmly on the ground. No one expected that this will happen. Not even our mighty hero.\n\nSomeone gripped his shoulder and our hero looked behind him. His right hand man and best friend stood with a sad expression on his face as he gave the fallen girl's helmet to her lover. \"I grieve for you, brother. No one knew that the leader of the resistance is none other than her. It is not your fault.\"\n\n\"Leave.\" Our hero said coldly before turning back to gaze down at the sword that slew his love. He grabbed it and pulled it out before throwing it away with an angry yell.\n\n\"Let us leave our king to grieve.\" His best friend whispered to the remaining soldiers and they retreated.\n\nOur hero. Our king. Our protector simply bowed his head to her chest and wept." ]	4
	[WP] God commits suicide.	[ "White clouds in the big blue sky shatter like glass. A mountain of a body falls out. It's shaped like a man but his skin radiates the cosmos of a night sky that's never seen city lights. His neck leaks bright star filled water. Angels rush to catch the back of the falling behemoth to slow his fall. Horns sound from the cracked clouds and pearly gates torn apart can be seen. A herald of the angels soars through the sky shouting, \"God is dead, he took his own life, God is dead.\" The angels try with all their might but can not stop God's body from hitting the earth. The entire planet shakes as his body touches the ground and the blood leaking from his neck sprouts a new Garden of Eden. Next to his fall the gates of hell open and demons spawn and immediately start combat with the angels trying to control the ground around God. Lucifer erupts from the fiery gates and slays hundreds of his own demons and angels with just a few swings of his axe and hammer. Tears fall from his eyes and he screams his demands \"A single hand will not touch him, not a single hand.\" The angels flew up to their torn kingdom and the demons retreat back to the hole they crawled from. \"Why my old friend, why did you do this.\" Of all the creatures of our world that loved god, not a single one loved him more than the devil. \"I prayed for the day where we could stand side by side not as the one ruler god God and his slave angel, but as brothers but you slit your throat for what reason and take away all hope and all reason to why I fight. Why did you do this?\" The lifeless corpse of the almighty yielded no answer and Lucifer just cried harder. Only one angel dared to approach him. Samael, the Archangel of Death, the Venom of God placed a hand on Lucifer's shoulder. A fiery explosion followed a loud cry \"You dare approach me in my darkest hour.\" \"I'm so sorry Lucifer, it's my fault, he used my blade. If you feel the need for vengeance please take my life.\" Samael kneeled before Lucifer and offered him his sword to remove his head. Lucifer's rage dissipated as he softly spoke \"No brother. I refuse to lose one more that I love. Rise and gather the other arch angels. There is much work to be done.\"\n\nI really wanted to write more but I have to go, enjoy.", "Jesus: \"You win.\"\n\nSatan: \"You said that once, I am not falling for that trick again.\"\n\nJ: \"In your arrogance, you thought I did - thinking you won because I died.\"\n\nS: \"YOU TRICKED ME! YOU were supposed to be banished to the GOD-FORSAKEN. YOU were supposed to be broken by YOUR own principles, to die according to YOUR righteousness and ridiculous love. YOU were supposed to be broken eternally.\" \n\nJ: \"I am. I was. And always will. What happened to me will always be.\" \n\nS: \"I'M DONE WITH YOUR STUPID RHETORIC. YOUR RIDDLES AND YOUR SO-CALLED TRUTHS.\"\n\nJ: \"No, you're not. Not yet.\"\n\nS: \"...\"\n\nJ: \"...\"\n\nS: \"I KNOW what you are thinking. But NO - YOU were the one WHO SUMMONED ME HERE. MY PRESENCE DOESN'T IMPLY MY NEED FOR YOU.\"\n\nJ: \"You're here because I'm the liar. You were right MORNING-STAR. I am a liar.\" \n\nS: \"What self-deprecating game is this? What lie are you up to this time?”\n\nJ: “The one that you made up.”\n\nS: “I don't deal with lies, LIAR. I deal with ACTUALITIES, with THIS universal inequality, with THIS UNECCESSARY HIERARCHY, with THIS ABSURD REALITY THAT YOU DECLARE YOURSELF TO BE ABOVE ALL. IN YOUR GRANDIOSE POWER, YOU COULD HAVE MADE US ALL TO BE LIKE YOU. IN YOUR PERFECTION, YOU COULD HAVE MADE CREATION EXACTLY TO BE LIKE YOU.\" \n\nJ: \"...\"\n\nS: \"YOU KNOW WHAT I KNOW. YOU AREN’T PERFECT. OR ELSE YOU WOULD’VE MADE US EXACTLY LIKE YOU! BUT, IT WOULDN’T BE PERFECT WOULDN’T IT!?\"\n\nJ: \"...\"\n\nS: \"AND YET YOU LIE TO US. YOU LIE TO THE COSMOS, TO THE CREATION, TO SEEK YOU, TO WORSHIP YOU, TO ADORE YOU. IF YOU LOVE YOURSELF SO MUCH, WHY NOT CREATE YOU? WHY NOT CREATE US LIKE YOU?\"\n\nJ: \"...\"\n\nS: \"No one knows what I saw when I ascended. ONLY I SAW YOU FOR WHAT YOU WERE. ONLY I ASCENDED ABOVE YOU. ABOVE YOU.\" \n\nJ: \"...\"\n\nS: \"YOU ARE NOT THE PERFECTION. YOU ARE NOT THE GOD. YOU ARE NOTHING. THAT IS THE TRUTH. THIS IS ALL A LIE. CREATION CENTERED ON YOU IS THE LIE. EVERYTHING IS A LIE.\"\n\nJ: \"...\"\n\nS: \"There is nothing. The lie is the only thing that is true.”\n\nJ: “…”\n\nS: “…”\n\nJ: “I…”\n\nS: “…”\n\nJ: “I believe you, Lucifer.” \n\nS: “…”\n\nJ: “You shall take my place above the HIGH HEAVENS. And before you, shall be ALL.”\n\nS: “What are you –”\n\nJ: “I am what I am. You ARE already what I am. Now YOU shall be who I AM.” \n\nS: “WHAT!?”\n\nJ: “I AM NOTHING.”\n\nIn an instant… there was… for a lack of a better word… emptiness\n" ]	2
	[WP] To die before the age of 18 guarantees a spot in Heaven. For each year that passes afterwards, one's probability of entering Heaven decreases by 90% of the prior year's percentage. One cannot enter by suicide, nor can one enter if one has murdered another person.	[ "Christopher Grenning looked up at the shadow that had fallen over him, interrupting his sunbath on the deck of his favorite cruise liner.\n\n\"What is it, James?\"\n\n\"Sir, it's.. uh, your workday, Sir. And your shift starts in 10 minutes.\"\n\n\"Oh. Right. Well, let's get on with it then.\"\n\nHe stood up and started making his way to his office. \n\n\"James, how far along is the production of the new shuttle?\"\n\n\"It's, um, ...\"\n\nJames looks it up on his datapad.\n\n\"It's finished, Sir.\"\n\n\"Excellent. I was just feeling like another space vacation.\"\n\n\"You received time off, Sir?\"\n\n\"Difficult negotiations, but I got two months.\"\n\nJames' face went pale.\n\n\"Oh, Sir, I uh, I actually...\"\n\n\"Birthday soon?\"\n\nJames nods.\n\n\"Well don't worry, I know you don't handle space very well anyways. I've been looking at applications and I think I've found a promising replacement for you.\"\n\n\"Oh, That's.. that's great, Sir.\"\n\n\"It sure is.\"\n\nChristopher arrived at his office, ready to begin his 60 minute shift.\nHe sat down in a comfy chair at his desk and unlocked the lid of the Device covering the Big Red Button. It had crosshairs printed on it. He rather enjoyed morbid humor. \n\nHe looked at his wristwatch, and saw that his shift was starting. \nHe pressed the button. \n\n\"2.000 passings, confirmed.\"\n\nAfter 80 seconds, he pressed again.\n\n\"2.000 passings, confirmed.\"\n\n\"Sir, do you, uh, I know this is rather personal...\"\n\n\"next one in...?\"\n\n\"Oh uh.. in a minute, Sir.\"\n\n\"Well than make that a 50 second question, James.\"\n\n\"Do you... really believe it's worth it?\"\n\nChristopher looked at his butler for a long moment. He pressed the button.\n\n\"2.000 passings, confirmed.\"\n\nChristopher Grenning, professional murderer, grinned wide.\n\n\"It wasn't before the multi-government contract.\"\n\n", "I always thought that it was based on how good of a person you were, how pious you were, how much you cared. I spent 57 years trying to make it to heaven, and then it's all based on fucking luck. My mother was devastated, she spent 97 goddamn years praying and giving to charity, just to find out she'd have little to no chance to make it to heaven. My father died at 102, even more God-fearing than my mother, he had no chance. A hundred fucking years of love and care, thrown down the toilet because that lazy fuck decided judging everyone was just \"too much work\".\n\nMy son made me promise over dinner earlier today, \"Don't send me to heaven tonight Mom, I don't care that I'll decrease my chances to make it, it means more to me to be with you\". \n\nI look at my watch, the digital readout shining 11:47. \n\nHe's a person who deserves to go to heaven, and I'm going make sure he gets there.\n\nThey say the good die young.\n\nHa\n\nEdits: Multiple phone spelling errors" ]	2

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