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
are now responsible for themselves. Adults may freely leave the society at any time. Document the pros and cons of the society.	[WP] It is the 50th anniversary since the inception of a utopian society which coexists with the rest of the world. To promote equality, families do not exists because all children are separated at birth and raised in "batches" by the society. Upon turning 18 they are given $10k and...	[ "I had been thinking about what to do when I turned 18 and in two months that dream would become a reality, but could I do it from within?\n\nWhere do you start to look for someone who hasn't seen you in 18 years? All I could think about was if she missed me, regretted letting them take me away. I had been dreaming about this for years, meeting the woman who gave birth to me, and I knew that most of my batch had felt the same way at some point or another. The hard part was where to begin.\n\nI thought about how they chose the babies they took. Was it entirely random? Did the authorities pick them through their doctors and gynecologists? Did they sneak into maternity wards and steal babies in the middle of the night? I had no clue, but I had an idea of where to start.\n\n\"Jackson, come in.\" I opened the door to Mr. Garners office. \"I wanted to ask you something sir?\" \"Yes?\" \"How do i become more involved in continuing the traditions we've set in place Sir?\"", "As he stepped out of the institution for the first time he thought to himself, finally I can go out and do something with the life that has been given to me. All his life he has been told that the world outside was perfect and that his entry into it would make it even better. With ten thousand dollars in his pocket and a new house waiting for him on 1984 London Street he set out to change the world. When he got into his house the first thing that he realized is that the inside of the gray cement house looked exactly like the inside of the institution. Silver metallic countertops and sharp corners between every room, cold hard chairs and harsh fluorescent lights set a familiar scene for him, a comfortable setting for him to change the world. He fell asleep the first night dreaming of all the possibilities that he could see laid out before him. The next day he set out from his house to go to the job waiting for him. Once he got there he found that his job was simple, all he had to do was type out the letters that appeared before him on his monitor, eight hours a day, for the rest of his life. “Your hardworking is appreciated and your service to the country notice” he was assured, “you are changing the world”. After the first day he when home and slept, the next morning he left again and set out to change the world." ]	2
	[WP] The very last smoker tries to quit.	[ "I took one last drag - the sweet smoke filling my lungs, swirling. I held on to it a little longer than usual like you would hold on to someone when you're saying goodbye for the last time. The filter rested on my lips for one last kiss. I exhaled and stamped out the remains of the cigarette. The white whisps lingered in the air for a few seconds before they disappeared into the night. I felt alone, standing there staring into the darkness. \n\n\"You're doing the right thing,\" a voice startled from behind. It was a young girl in a long coat loosely overhanging her skeletal frame. The coat gently fluttered in the fresh spring breeze. She was close enough for me to look into her eyes - her pupils were dilated. She was frightened.\n\nThis morning we were told we were the last ones left. There were no others. Just 22 of hidden in a remote plateau in the Rockies. I couldn't bare to tell her that the 'right thing' didn't exist anymore. I just took out another cigarette.", "\"These are-\"\n\n\"Seven years old.\" Margaret finishes, unable to keep her eyes off the red and white foil package in the old man's hands. \"They're stale, but smokeable.\"\n\n\"You sound rather sure of that, given that they've never been opened.\" The collector says absently as he turns it over in his hands, inspecting it under a magnifying glass. His office is decorated with boxes and bottles of twentieth century sweets.\n\n\"I know what I'm talking about.\" That gets his attention. \"I had two of them up 'til a week ago. I stockpiled when the company went bankrupt, and they were practically giving them away. I've been rationing them ever since.\" Margaret's fingertips are itching, and she wants this over and done with.\n\n\"And what made you decide to quit now, if you don't mind my asking?\" \n\n\"You did.\" The sound of the wrapper crinkling in his fingers seems far louder than it should be. \"I heard how much you paid for that Twenty-One Twelve carton of Camels, and it just seemed silly to burn something so valuable.\" The half-truth sticks in her throat more than she'd like.\n\n\"Ah, yes, well of course that artifact was considerably older than this one. And an entire carton at that.\" The collector lays the package down on his desk, where the foil glimmers in the afternoon light, filtered green through a bottle of Surge. \"I can perhaps offer you six hundred for it.\"\n\n\"No!\" Margaret leans across the table, looking the old man in the eye. \"I already had them appraised, and it's fifteen-hundred or I walk.\" She hopes desperately need hat he believe her.\n\n\"No, I'm afraid these aren't worth anything near that much. If you'd decided to liquidate your stockpile earlier...\" He trails off as Margaret deflates in her chair. After a moment the collector stands, and turns to inspect a row of wrappers and half-opened packages on his shelf. \"But I can offer you an even thousand, and this.\" He takes a crumpled blister pack from the shelf, and lays it on the desk. Ten of the twelve cavities are unopened, and contain little rounded white squares. \"They're stale, but chewable.\"\n\n-\n\nMargaret sits on a bench in the park, watching the sun set over the crater lake that used to be Seattle. Food'l be tight, but at least she can make rent this month. And the gum actually is helping her feel a bit better.\n\nLife could be worse.", "Each and every single 3 inch cylinder, filled with tobacco and nicotine was for me. It was heard to believe, that I was the last one who would inhale this beautiful mixture to calm my nerves. Manufacturing of cigarettes had ceased, as had manufacturing of cigars. But there were so many left to smoke. \n\nAs I was finishing up my cigarette on my screened-in porch, I heard them. It was a big crowd today. I had become somewhat of a celebrity. People were taking bets on how many more cigarettes I would smoke before I quit or the year I would die from lung cancer or if I'd die some other death. My landlord hated that this many people were now near our property. My eviction notice was probably coming any day now. \n\nIt pissed me off sometimes, being the only smoker. Other people still had their vices. People crowded the bars. People gambled their money away. But I could not have mine. I saw the mailman through the window. I ran outside.\n\n\"You quit yet? Come on, I need my money from my friend . I bet you'd quit by next week.\"\n\nAnd other noise from the crowd. I grabbed the packages from the mailman and walked inside. I opened them up. What do you know? More cigarettes. You see, the manufacturing companies had shut down, but that didn't mean there wasn't an excess of cartons still floating around. And they were all sent to me..." ]	3
	[WP] You are placed under house arrest. After weeks of boredom and solitude, there's a home break in.	[ "I am a police officer, and I am under house arrest.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nI’m thirty-two years old and have two months left on my six-month confinement delivered by an angry and corrupt B.C. Supreme Court judge. All my favours have been called in. I have no more friends on the force, the gimmies have dried up. I have nothing but ten extra pounds around the middle and a scattering of beer cans across my coffee table. Once upon a time, I could crank out 300 pound bench presses. I haven’t done one pushup in four months. Because I was such a model citizen before my arrest, I could have appealed or even have pled my case in front of the court of public opinion -- the newspapers. It wouldn’t have helped. I’m stuck with my PlayStation, an electronic ankle monitor and three-day-a-week grocery delivery.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nI shouldn’t call myself a police officer, because I’m not. The Victoria Police Commission snagged my gun and badge the day I was charged. Suspension they called it. The badge was shredded the moment I was found guilty, my gun returned to firearms inventory. The drama played out for weeks in the Times Colonist.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nIn my home, I am the judge, jury and executioner of my day. I wake up around noon, roll out of bed and help myself to whatever leftovers I have in the fridge from the night before. Pizza, in all likelihood. By three, I’ve already logged a few solid hours of video games. I’ll have fapped to /r/GoneWild and will be contemplating a shower -- which I may or may not actually take. On days I’m feeling disciplined, I’ll read. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nSix weeks and three days after I started my term, my phone vibrated with a long text message. People with almost zero human contact fantasize about texts, emails and messages on Facebook, but this was one I didn’t need. It was from my fiancee calling it quits. Emily had gone from making me breakfast, lunch and dinner and leaving correspondence college course applications on the kitchen table as subtle hints, to packing up and moving back to her parents' place. I waited for another text, but none came. My hand trembled, I broke out in a sweat and for once was glad no one was around to see me cry. Cops cry from time to time, you just don’t hear about it.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nAs far as sentences go, sticking it out at home is a veritable dream. I have my own bedroom, my own schedule, my own toilet -- my own everything. In this case my world is confined to a 900-square foot apartment in Oak Street Village, a three-storey historical walk up with hardwood floors and within spitting distance of a coffee shop, an artisanal bakery, an English pub and a locally-owned grocery store. Not that I could ever enjoy any of them.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nGiven the relative anonymity of its residents, its silver tsunami of retired folk and the overall lack of luxury vehicles parked curb-side, it's a surprise that my prison would be targeted by a thief. I had clearly not spent enough of the day making my apartment looked lived in by 2 a.m. on a Saturday night when someone broke into the downstairs kitchen window that overlooked the community garden. I grabbed my flashlight and picked my way down the stairs.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nWhen the robber saw me, he tried to turn and crawl back through the broken window. Flooded with adrenaline, he didn’t spot the sliding door next to the window. I beat him over the back of the head twice with the handle of my flashlight. The first blow sent him to his knees where he swayed. The second sent him face-first into the floor. Knowing that my every movement would be logged via the ankle monitor, I immediately called the police and sat on the front steps. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nThe perp lay on the kitchen floor in a large pool of his own blood when Officers Ken and Bryn arrived. Because their computers had alerted them that they were responding to the residence of an ex-cop under house arrest, they approached with firearms drawn, and I lay face down on the concrete until they could ascertain that I was not an immediate threat. It didn’t matter that I had worked with them the previous two years. I was as good as a stranger, a dispatch call, a report to be filed. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nThey uncuffed me. All that was left was a puddle of blood on the hardwood in the kitchen waiting for a mop and disinfectant. Paramedics had stabilized the man’s head. They administered oxygen then stretchered him into the ambulance. I gave a statement. Officers Ken and Bryn looked at each other.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“You better call your lawyer,” Officer Ken said. \n\n&nbsp;\n\n“Just a little tip. Since, you know, we have a history,” Officer Bryn said. He winked at his partner, and I was immediately confused. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nThey flipped closed their notepads.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n“Oh yeah,” said Officer Ken, climbing into the driver’s seat of the cruiser. “Emily says ‘hi’.” He snapped his chewing gum and winked at his partner.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThey both laughed and sped off on the empty, early morning road.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n---\nThe introduction of this story was inspired by John Grisham’s The Racketeer (2012).\n", "I flinched as the sound of breaking glass assaulted my ears. I poked my head around the hallway corner - I was almost glad, I'd been bored out of my mind. Would I finally see some action?\n\nI blinked. There was nobody there. Turns out, the break in was next door. I informed the police, sighed, then sat back down to finish my book.", "The burglar downstairs knocks over a chair. Idiot. I wonder if he has the slightest clue who's house he just broke into. I imagine he simply took one look at the house and decided it looked fancy enough. Sloppy. Very sloppy. He obviously didn't even do a check for inhabitants. Just took one look at the unlit windows and decided it was uninhabited. Thieves just aren't what they used to be. I pad silently down the stairs and step into the kitchen. He doesn't notice as I stalk behind him. His eyes are nowhere near as sharp as my own. I scan his body for weapons. None. He's bigger than he, but I reckon that can take him. I take my chance and lunge for him. He screams as I lay into him. I do believe my employer will be most satisfied to find I've kept him and his possessions safe once again dispatched an invader. Maybe he'll finally let me out of the house again after the last incident. I lay contentedly down on the living room couch and lick my paws. The invader is still screaming something. I think its trying to communicate. It sounds sort of like ,\" Ged rid off yur crazi catt bro!\"\n\nI can't make sense of it. It probably doesn't really matter. I think absently of when I'll be able to get my paws on some tuna. ", "Oh God I'm so BORED. I go to bed bored, wake up bored..Rinse and repeat, rinse and freaking REPEAT.\nUntil some moron breaks in. Can you believe it? dude...there are lights on! why the hell do you intrude upon a home that's occupied? \nThe sheer stupidity of it has me frozen, face to face with a man in a mask.\n\nI frown \"Are you serious?\"\n\nMask man exudes confusion \"Uh pretty serious, yes\"\n\nI do a wee jazz hands and open my arms wide \"Then it's your lucky day my friend! Take what you like\"\n\nMr Mask seems unsure, the crowbar in his hand raises a fraction but falls back down in defeat \"Oh-ok then. I'm...y'know...used to a little more resistance than this\"\nI snort in bemusement \"What? you want to scrap? Look man, i've been stuck in this hell hole for three months, you're doing me a favour and rescuing a man from another mundane day. Do YOURSELF a favour and got steal my asshole stepdads TV, I'll help you carry it to the door. After that\" I wave my collared ankle at him \"You're on your own...K GO!\"\n\nMr Mask has a field day. \nAnd afterwards... so do I. Don't know how I'm going to get all this blood out of the carpet before my folks get home though...", "Shit. What was that noise? I get up from the stained, sagging mattress, laden with wrappers and empty bottles, that has become my perch for the past two months. I think I heard footsteps in the kitchen. My own feet carry me to the dark room, and I hear it. Definitely footsteps.\n\nOn the balls of my feet I make my way to the switch. Bright, nearly blinding lights reveal a tall, man. Clad in only black and a knife gripped tightly in his hand, he steps forward and tenses up.\n\n\"Hey,\" I smile at him. He falters and lowers the knife an inch.\n\n\"Uhm...\" he looks around for a moment, \"Hi.\"\n\nI walk over to the fridge and pull out two cold beers, handing him one as I sit at the table.\n\n\"You'd never believe how long it's been since I last saw someone,\" I let out a self deprecating laugh, \"I thought I was going to go crazy, you know?\"\n\nThe man lets out an uncomfortable laugh and scratches the back of his head with the back of his knife. I crack open the beer easily from weeks of practice, and motion for him to sit.\n\n\"Oh, let it go. You can take whatever you want then. I just need to hear someone other than myself for like two fucking minutes.\"\n\nWith a loud screech, he pulls out the chair opposite mine and sits. Fumbling, he tries to open his beer, but settles on trying to pop it on the edge of the table.\n\n\"Not on the wood, dude,\" I take the bottle and open it for him, \"Come on, man. I know your a burglar, but do you have no manners?\"\n\n\"Sorry, I-\"\n\n\"Do you like turkey sandwiches? I think I'm going to make myself one.\"\n\nHis brow raises.\n\n\"Geez, who doesn't like turkey? It's good for you, you know?\"\n\nHe doesn't say anything. His eyes follow me as I make my sandwich and I even catch him yawning and scuffing at his knife blade.\n\n\"Stupid judge gave me house arrest for my DUI,\" I bark, \"Dick head. Would've preferred community service and a fine.\"\n\nThe man's face screws into one of incredulity.\n\n\"What?\"\n\nHe looks at my beer.\n\n\"Oh, shut up. Ain't like I'm driving or anything.\"\n\nHe shakes his head and stands up. I follow his movements until he makes it to the front door.\n\n\"Hey,\" I call after him, and he turns around, \"Ain't you going to, like, rob me or something?\"\n\nHe shakes his head, puts the knife on my end table, and says, \"Fuck this, dude. I'm going home.\"\n\nI finish my sandwich and down the rest of my beer. When I make it back to my stinking bed, I let out a loud sigh. Shit, I'm lonely.\n\n" ]	5
	[WP] Write about a cowards journey from cowardice to heroic courage	[ "\"Who did this Jeremy?\" asked the teacher. I knew that I was the one who had drawn on the wall with the sharpie. I was about to get in trouble. I looked to my left and saw Kevin, a smaller kid who never stood up for himself. That was when I thought, \"I can get away with this.\" I looked at the teacher, took a deep breath, then said, \"It was Kevin, I saw him do it.\" The teacher walked over to Kevin and started to yell at him. In retrospect she was a pretty shitty teacher. Anyways, that was the first time I avoided responsibility. At first, it felt shitty, but I got used to it. Before long I was a pro.\n\nI am twenty two years old, and today, for the first time since I was in kindergarten I took responsibility for my actions. When I was in the sixth grade I lied and said my best friend made up the rumor about Jenny giving head to a seventh grader. I lost a friend that day, but I was okay with it. I got out of trouble. In eighth grade I refused to admit that I had copied the homework from a Wikipedia article. In the end, they couldn't prove it, so I got away with it. I'm rambling.\n\nToday I woke up and lit a cigarette while still laying on my bed. I didn't even bother inhaling it, I just let it sit in my mouth. I looked up at the ceiling and frowned. Eventually I finished my smoke, and got out of bed. \"Thank god it's Sunday, I thought. \"One more missed day of work and I'm canned.\" I went to the diner downstairs and ordered my usual, an egg and cheese on a poppyseed bagel, bacon on the side, and a cup of black coffee. I ate in silence.\n\nWhen I finished, I hopped on my bike and headed towards Jenny's house. Yes it's the same one. I ended up knocking her up when I was seventeen. My kid, his name is Robert, is a cute little devil. The settlement let me spend Sundays with him. To be honest, I didn't even deserve that.\n\nWhen I picked him up I asked him how school went. He said, \"I got in trouble.\" I was surprised. He was generally well behaved in school. \"Yeah?\" I asked. \"What did you do?\" He looked at the ground. \"I touched a girls butt. I said I'm sorry though!\" At that moment, I looked at him and realized that he was better than me. It made me sad. It was my turn to look at the ground. Then, I looked up, into his eyes, and said, \"Robert. I'm going to be better from now on. I promise.\"", "He cowered there for what felt like the longest time. Honestly, he’d lost track of just how much time. But the urine that had dampened his pants had dried some time ago. When the first wave of death had rolled down from the hills he’d hidden. Somehow it had missed him. He’d watched as it rolled over his comrades and snuffed their lives out, but for some reason, passed him by. It wasn’t a simple death, not like blowing out a candle, not a simple matter of one moment they were alive and the next they were dead. If only it had been that easy. He’d spent quite some time emptying his already empty stomach. \n\nAnd now he hid under the corpses of those people. There had been quite a bit of vomiting the first time he’d pulled one of the dead bodies over himself too. It was a surprise that there was actually anything left in his bowels. \n\nThey’d found him several days later roaming the rotting battlefield in a vain search for other survivors. When questioned about how his survival he only told them that the wave had knocked him unconscious—then he wouldn’t have to relate the actual story of his survival. People in power of course twisted his words. He wasn’t a lone survivor who’d made it out due to cowardice. No, he was a stoic warrior whose courage had saved him. \n\nAnd now he stood at the front of the battalion. They’d never really given him a choice, they just put him there. Surely if he could survive that first, devastating attack it made him qualified to lead more experienced, and more deadly, soldiers into battle. \n\nHis knees knocked as the wave cascaded over the hills towards them. Luckily the men who followed him were too focused on the enemy to worry about him. Not for the last time, he thanked the engineers who had given him his new armor that hid his urine soaked pants. But, he stood there, weapon drawn. \n", "I'm always afraid. \n\nWhen I was five, our house burned down. My mother's boyfriend had a bad crack habit and left his pipe on the sheets. I woke to smoke and the sharp feel of my dog's teeth. \n\nI ran from the house, watching it burn. My mother and sister died that night. The boyfriend made it out. \n\nMy foster parents called me Mouse. I would curl myself into any dark corner and keep the door in my sight-line. At night I made them keep the windows open. \n\nEscape routes, I had them. \n\nI dreamed of fire like a great dragon swallowing me whole. I ran from cigarette lighters and Bunsen burners and hot ovens. \n\nI was twenty three and working in an office when I met this girl. Valerie. Good name, Valerie. Like an old torch song. She liked none of the things I liked but I loved her. And she loved me. \n\nWe married. Had a kid. I named her after my mother. She was all big teeth and fierce temper. \n\nOne night I woke to the smell of smoke. I ran. \n\nShivering outside, I saw no fire. No smoke. Valerie had burned some toast. \n\nShe didn't say anything when I came back in though I knew she must have wondered. I tossed and turned that night, cursing my fear. Cursing myself. Until I had a single desire. A single goal. Then I feel into a deep sleep. \n\nIn the morning I started working on an application to be a fireman. I trained. I studied. And I passed. \n\nNow when I smell smoke, I go to work. I don't run. \n\nI'm always afraid. That never leaves me. But I do it anyway. ", "Fuck. His cell was ringing again. He could hear it even in the other room.\n\nJohn rocked back and forth in his favorite chair. Fuck, fuck, FUCK. He'd lost count of the number of times they had tried to call his cell. Fuck.\n\nA fresh set of tears slid down his face. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't do it. He was a bloody, motherfucking COWARD. He pounded the chair's armrests in frustration.\n\nHe'd agreed to do it. He'd promised to do it. It would save her life. The little girl...B---no, don't think her name. Can't think her name. FUCK FUCK FUCK.\n\nWhy had he agreed to this? It seemed so noble before. Saving a little girl's life! Yeah! Who wouldn't want to do that? But the sacrifice.....oh, God the sacrifice. \n\nHe hadn't been thinking of the cost when he'd agreed. Even when the doctor went into excruciating detail on what would be done to him, what the aftermath would be life. Those were far-away details. Something he could deal with in the future. \n\nNow that future was here. Be----the little girl--- had been prepped for surgery. Something that took an excruciatingly long time for her frail, battered body. If John didn't show up at the hospital in the next few hours, she would die.\n\nBut John couldn't do it. He couldn't give his life for hers. The consequences were too real. He was healthy, he could live for another 60 years! Why should he shorten his own lifespan so drastically to save hers? \n\nWhy in God's name had he agreed to this? He was a coward. FUCK. He was a huge, miserable coward.\n\nJohn jolted upright in his chair. Oh God. Oh God. They were going to send someone to his apartment. They hadn't been able to reach him all day. Someone was probably on his way now. Oh God. He couldn't face them. What if they sent one of the family members? One of the people John had promised to help? He couldn't tell them of his cowardice. \n\nJohn began moving frantically around the room. Keys, wallet, and phone were shoved unceremoniously into his pocket. He shoved his shoes on his feat without bothering to put on socks. He had to get out of here. He had to get out of here NOW.\n\nHe torn the door open to his apartment and looked frantically up and down the hall, his heart racing. He half-expected to see a dark-suit from the hospital striding purposefully towards him. They were blissfully empty.\n\nJohn took the stairs two at a time and his whirlwind through the lobby looked like the run of an escaped prisoner. That's exactly how John felt when he reach the busy city streets. Like a prisoner freed after years of being confined.\n\nToo amped up to be confined in a cab or bus, John began walking. He picked a direction at random and let his feet guide him.\n\nJohn's thoughts were blissfully free as he walked, and his spirits rose. He felt lighter now, freed somehow. No one could reach him out here. He didn't have to explain his cowardice to anyone. He was just another guy on the streets. For several city blocks his new euphoria lasted. Then several more. His heart rate slowed.\n\nBut the illusion was shattered when his phone rang in his pocket. FUCK. Why had he brought the bloody thing!? Why hadn't he left it behind!? FUCK FUCK FUCK.\n\nJohn fumbled for it in his pocket and quickly mashed the 'Send to Voicemail' button....but it was too late. His calm had been shattered. His heart beat sped up again. His agitation returned. FUCK!\n\nNo. Fuck this. He was NOT going to think about her. He was free. No one could find him. He was out. Food. He needed food. Food was always a good at distracting him.\n\nJohn looked around, desperately searching for a place to eat. Someplace where everything was friend. Then covered in fat. Then fried again. Ah! A burger truck. Perfect. John jogged towards it. Mmmm...a big, juicy double patty burger with extra bacon, onio----\n\nJohn stopped short. No. Nononononononononono. The guy talking orders at the burger truck was a older man, disheveled and covered in grease. He had reached down to pick up a little girl, his daughter, John assumed. She had the same blond hair, the same blue eyes as....\n\nNO! Fuck this. John turn and ran from the truck. As fast as his legs would carry him. He ran for miles. He ran until his sides hurt and his lungs would no longer support him. He collapsed on the sidewalk, staring sightless up at the sky, gulping in huge breaths trying to get air to his oxygen-starved muscles. \n\nA face appeared above him, looking concerned. \"Hey buddy, are you all right? I saw you fall.\"\n\nJohn couldn't stop gasping to answer, but he nodded to the stranger. The concerned look didn't leave the man's face, but he extended his hand. John took it, and let the man draw him to his feet. \n\nThe stranger led him to a nearby bench, which John sank blissfully into. It was a few minutes before John caught his breath enough to thank the man. \"...t...thanks...\" he rasped out. In addition to his wild run, John hadn't spoken to anyone for days.\n\nOf course the man didn't know this. He though John's voice was raspy from his recent excursion. \"You still look rough my friend. Let me buy you a water and some food.\" John made a motion to wave him off, but the man bulled ahead. \"I insist. You look like you need it.\"\n\nJohn didn't have the energy to argue. He sighed, but stood up and followed the man as he led him to a nearby noodle cart.\n\nJohn nearly froze again when he saw a little girl at the cart. But this girl looked nothing like the sick one. She was Asian, with dark hair and dark eyes.\n\nThe good Samaritan ordered two bowels of Ramen noodles from the man running the cart. He spoke in a language John didn't recognize and the little girl began spooning out the noodles and toppings from various metal containers. The Asian man smiled and turned towards his two customers. \"Would you mind speaking English to my daughter? We are new to America, and she is still learning her English. It would do her good to practice it.\"\n\nThe man next to John smiled back. \"Of course.\" he replied, and knelt in front of the little girl. \"Hi there. My name is Keith. What's your name?\"\n\nThe little girl smiled shyly at the stranger and replied in a very soft voice. \"Thaoli.\"\n\n\"Thaoli.\" Keith echoed back. \"That's a very pretty name. Thank you for preparing our noodles Thaoli. We're quite hungry.\"\n\nThaoli smiled but didn't reply back, but thrust the two bowls of noodles towards Keith. He took them and set them down. \"Can I pay you instead of your father Thaoli?\" The little girl nodded again. Keith handed her a bill, and she counted out his change from coins her father handed down to her. \"Thank you Thaoli.\" Keith said, and stood up, handing me a bowl of noodles. The Asian father reached down and grabbed young Thaoli, giving her a wet kiss and tostling her hair, bringing another youthful grin to her face.\n\nThat grin broke John. This girl was nothing like the one he had promised, yet she was. She laughed, she learned, and she had the potential to be anything. She was a young life that deserved her chance in this world. So did the sick girl So did Beth. \n\nJohn had been cowardly, but his greatest sin was to be selfish. His life was not worth more than a child's. He had his chance in life and had made his mistakes. He was being offered a chance to save a young life like little Thaoli who was a blank canvas, with so many possibilities before her. How could he refuse that?\n\nJohn reached into his pocket for his cell and dialed the number to Beth's father. He answered on the first ring. \"This is John. I am on my way to the hospital now. Tell Beth not to worry.\"\n\n" ]	4
	[WP] Everyone in the world is certifiably insane --except for you.	[ "'look at them, he mutters under his breath.. 'disgusting the way they parade around, pumped up with self importance and whatever prescription drug they're on.. i mean seriously, whats wrong with everyone today..' \n\nhe stretches himself on the bench across the newest 'it' coffee shop; smouldering in disdain and loathe at the multitudes that keep surging towards its brightly lit entrance. \n\nhe notices a trio of teenage girls going crazy with their smartphone cameras, 'the fuck!' he spits 'look at those young bitches, whoring out their wares to the world, whats that? you're right.. i'm sorry honey i didn't mean to use that word.. i know you don't like it, but you know how upset this makes me.. i mean why won't they at least try to be a little useful even.. what a waste, what an absolute fucking waste.. is this what we went to the moon for? \n\nvisibly enraged and wildly gesticulative, his inarticulate ramblings are drawn to halt as he accidentally knocks over the jar sitting across him, from off the bench.. 'no, no no!!' crash! he jumps off the bench, almost genuflecting as he desperately tries to put back the pieces, his tone lowered to apologetic whimpers.. 'this isn't right, i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry, don't worry i'm gonna fix you up in no time.. it's all their fault and i'm gonna make them pay.. you hear that you bitches, i'm gonna make you pay.. '\n\nhe wipes his tears and stands up waving his fists at no one in particular.. \nacross the street, the manager peeps out his store window and tells his colleague to 'have the bum moved off the bench by tomorrow..'", "Please excuse the lackluster writing, my strength is in non-fiction essays rather than fictional stories.\n\nThe world kept plunging further and further into insanity. First, it was minor. A simple infection causing others to lose their minds. It affected perhaps a couple dozen people who had come into contact with it, but then it spread.\n\nIt spread quickly. Before I knew it, everyone around me was infected. They kept mumbling to themselves about how all the problems would soon be over, and that their job is done. For some reason, I seem unaffected.\n\nEven with the most foreign logic imaginable, it didn't take long for them to find me hiding. I tried to fight them off. There was blood, broken bones, I may have even killed one or two, but they were too much for me. I was captured, and locked up in an abandoned prison.\n\nEven though I wasn't particularly smart, they still sent in a guard to keep watch. He just sat there, waiting and watching for hours on end, until his shift ended, and they sent in another guard who did the same. On the third guard, I had finally gathered up the courage to ask, \"Why?\"\n\nHis response shocked me, to say the least. He said to me, \"You know what? You're right. There's no reason for you to be locked up like this.\" He took out his key, unlocked the cell, and muttered \"Go.\" I thanked him and ran off, wondering why it was so easy to persuade him, if you could even call it that.\n\nEventually, they captured me once again. I wasn't surprised. They took me to solitary confinement and left me there. No windows, no door, no company, nothing.\n\nIt seemed alright at first. I was away from everyone else, and the only reason they came back was to give me meals, which I was fine with. However, it eventually began to unravel. I wasn't allowed the comfort of knowing I could talk to someone about this. I contemplated the fact that these white walls may very well be the last thing I see before I die. I started to ponder my very existence, and wonder what it would be like after death. Maybe this is what it feels like to be insane.\n\nEDIT: Added a sentence.\n" ]	2
	[WP] [FF] Write a story about the beginning and end of the world in either 36.5 words, or 365	[ "\"In the beginning silence was it's own music, but like all symphonies, there came an end. It began not with a bang, but with a whisper. A single note. Pure and serine, cast into existence to echo off the deepest darkness. And within the abyss, life was born and it's music was sweet. But like all symphonies, there came an end.\"\n\nSo, I couldn't stick to the word count. Let internet rebellion begin. Fun WP OP.\n\n", "Though swirled about, it twirled around the vast empty nothingness. No where to go, no where in mind, Thought flowed observing the moving but somehow still universe. Everything was moving, everything everywhere, right down to the littlest molecule was moving, but nothing was living. Nothing around Thought had a sense or a care. The swimming fish on this planet or that, no more intelligent than a rock or clouds in any given galaxy. How boring, this whole magnificent universe could be... 'What I need is something to do, something to entertain myself...... Something original, always original, I like this one....,' Thought approached a galaxy. With many things, this one teems with life, but no sentience. Thought could see ahead, through time, and thought could see that this world would live and die many times, and it was to be pointless. Never an appreciation of its beauty, or any of it for that matter. Thought went to the world, a time when it was freshly beaten from space. Thought knew that soon this little worlds majestic journey would start, it would be insignificant though, if Thought wasn't there. Thought inspected the worlds beauty, he didn't change anything, as he peered through the time. This world would span many different species lifetime. Thought wanted to pick the right one. Thought liked the time with giant reptiles, but this wasn't the proper time. Thought would pick a time where reptiles where still present, but not the dominate species. Thought saw a time where primates began losing their hair. Naked and stupid, Thought saw through the time to see the end of the hairless primates, and decided upon them a new fate. Thought dissolved into the hairless primates. Thought had taken root inside each one, no longer conscience as one big whole, Thought joined the hairless primates, to afford the world the human race. People rule the world, with hopes of searching the galaxies wonder, majestically vast space and planets. Life with cognitive thought, that we can find, or sustain. However, humanity becomes frantic in its search for immortality. Humanity is desperate for survival, the human race finds a way through the digital world via population download. Data Corrupt." ]	2
	[WP] Your eyes are closed from the moment you are born until you choose to open them, but you become definitively blind when you close them again.	[ "From the time I was born I was always told to never open my eyes, because I only get one opportunity to do so. I did not understand why but I followed the rules anyways. Such a bleak world to live in, I have never experienced what many people call \"colors.\" I've been told though that they are so beautiful that once you see them, you begin to cry. I always wanted to know what colors looked like, but I did not want to lose my sight.\n\nWhen I was 23 years old, I met the love of my life. She was smart, she was funny, she was my love, and I hers. We laughed with one another and also cried with one another. We were there for each other even though we had never seen the other's face before. Our love did not need sight though, because our love was true.\n\nDuring my lifetime with her, we had only had one child. Our daughter was so wonderful and exceeded so many expectations. We were one big happy family. Eventually our daughter grew up and went to live her own life and start her own happy family. My wife and I were sad that she left, but we also knew it was necessary for her to live a full life.\n\nAs the years went by, we still had not seen each other even though many decided to look at each other's faces on the day of their wedding or the day their child was born. We decided that we loved each other enough that it did not matter if we had looked at each other. One day though, our love for each other is what made us look at each other.\n\nWe both knew that we could pass away any day now, and we decided to do whatever we could with our aging bodies. One day though, my wife became ill. We thought it to just be a common cold at first, but soon it became something worse: pneumonia. After two weeks there was nothing we could do nothing for her. She was going to die. \n\nThere I sat by my wife in her final hour, holding her hand.\n\n I sat there crying silently into her when she asked me, \"My husband, I know we agreed that it did not matter how we looked because our love did not need to see the other, but in my final hour I wish to see you once.\"\n\nI responded to her, \"My wife, I understand that and in your final hour, there is nothing more that I'd like to do.\" \n\nI felt her gripping my hand harder and we decided to open our eyes on the count to three. It was such a tense moment, what if I blinked? 1...\nWhat if I couldn't open them? 2...\nWhat if something goes wrong? 3...\n\nIt did not matter at that point, I decided that I wanted to gaze upon my wife in all her splendor. I opened my eyes and at first, everything was white. Eventually my eyes adjusted though and there I saw my wife.\n\nShe and I both gazed upon each other, staring into each other's eyes. Her eyes were such a deep color, making me wonder what might lurk underneath them. \"So this is what a color is?\", I thought to myself.\n\nShe looked at me and said to me, \"Your eyes...they look unlike anything I could have ever imagined. They look like life sprawls in them, and flourishes within them.\" \n\nI respond to her, \"And your eyes are so deep and mysterious, they make me wonder if something lurks just beneath the surface.\"\n\nI continue to stare into her eyes and she continues to stare into mine, and in that moment, everything stops. The sounds from the outside are gone and all I can focus on is her. I lean down towards her and she rises just enough from her bed, and we close our eyes to share a final kiss with each other.", " Thales pulled at the threads that kept his eyes closed. \n\n Nineteen years his eyes had been sewn shut, from the moment he was born to the present. Some people waited an entire lifetime for the perfect moment, but Mark wasn’t going to wait any longer. It wasn’t his wedding night that he would open his eyes for, it wasn’t for his first child, not for a sunset, not for a waterfall, and not simply to look at himself, like some people did at the Mirror Gardens. It was to look up, to see how far he had fallen.\n\n It would have been easier if he had a pair of the special scissors they made -- like normal scissors, except they curved obliquely at the tip to avoid accidental eye stabbing. Instead he just tugged at the thread, like he had done as a curious child, before he fully understood the magnitude of his blindness. Only, this time he pulled hard enough that the string pulled through the thin flesh of his eyelids. The pain would have been extraordinary, if his senses hadn’t already been dulled by the rest of the pain he was in.\n\n He was one of those people, the people that always thought they would have more time, or a better opportunity, and so waited and waited until their lives were about to end. And often, by then, it was too late. Those kinds of people often only saw the ceiling of a painfully ascetic hospital room, if they saw anything at all. He was only nineteen, though, so couldn’t be faulted for having waited too long. What he could be faulted for was for walking in a place that he shouldn’t have been.\n\n It was an open field, and in a moment of irrational confidence he had decided to put away his telescopic walking cane. It made life more exciting, to never know if he was about to run into a tree, or trip over a rock. He liked to think that he didn’t need the walking cane to know what was around him, and the only way to prove that was to go to a place he had never been before and to do it. But he hadn’t sensed the hole in front of him, and hadn’t been able to stop himself from falling.\n\n He opened his eyes. And it was almost as he guessed it would be, except so much more – he was at the bottom of a dried out well. The way he had bounced off the walls, and its close confinement, had already led him to that conclusion. \n\n So it was that the only light he ever saw came to him from a small circle, far above his head. And even though it was the middle of the day he could see a field of stars, those small flecks of light that he had learned about in school, but were so distant as to mean nothing to him. The blind have no need of stars, he reflected. But they were beautiful, and they were all that he would see. \n\n He turned his focus to his own shattered body. His legs were twisted grotesquely, and his left shoulder was dislocated. Only his right arm had escaped maiming, which allowed him to pull the thread from his eyes. A liquid was pooling around him, the moisture that was his gift to the dry well. But that sight was dismal, and hard to make out, so he returned to the sky above. \n\n Already the light was searing his fragile optical nerve, and in a few moments he would return to blindness. He closed his eyes before that happened. There were a few things that he still had in his control – his last vision wouldn’t be the blurred light of his vision failing, but of the stars in their fullness. Their fullness, channeled through a small hole.\n\n A blind man again, he touched the stone wall with his right hand. “Why do you have to block the view?” he asked its hardness. “The whole sky would have been grander, don’t you think?”\n" ]	2
I posted my own response in the comments below. It's my first time so try and be gentle.	[WP] During an exploration project, an abandoned Santa's Workshop is found at the North Pole.	[ "“It’s Christmas!” exclaimed little Joey as he eagerly awoke his parents by banging at their bedroom door at 6 AM. “Let’s open presents!”\n\n“Alright, alright, hold your horses.” muttered his father, Michael, as he groggily started getting up. “We will be there in a second” added his mother, Sarah.\n\nJoey squealed “Hurry up!” before running off in anticipation. He knew he had been a good boy this year and was expecting something great from Santa. Arriving at the Christmas tree, he started grabbing the presents and shaking them to guess what could be inside. The big heavy one with the blue wrapping that was stamped “From: Santa” seemed the most appealing. Finally, after a few excruciatingly long minutes, Michael and Sarah come out. \n\n“Which one would you like to open first?” asked Sarah as Michael walked to the kitchen to go make some coffee. “How about the one with the gold wrapping?”\n\n“No! I want to open this one!” demanded Joey while grabbing his prized present.\n\n“Huh, I don’t remember that one.” muttered Sarah while looking curiously back to the kitchen. \n\n“Of course you don’t! It’s from Santa.” Joey gleefully exclaimed, pointing to the stamp.\n\nShe remembered that Michael sometimes likes to slip in a surprise present and deny doing so. “That had better not be what I think it is” she thought.\n\n“Go ahead and open it” said Sara with a bit of dread in her voice.\n\nJoey quickly and expertly tore through the wrapping and started screaming with joy. “A PS4! YES! YES! YESSSS!”\n\nMichael entered the room, sipping a cup of coffee, wanting to see what Joey had opened. “That’s just great” stated Sarah with disappointment, glaring at Michael. She had discussed it with him before and they had agreed together not to get him a new game system in order to encourage him to go out and socialize more.\n\n“Huh” said Michael as he looked at the present and the angry look on Sarah’s face. “Maybe she changed her mind and was angry about the initial decision to not get the game system?” he wondered. \n\nHe then started cleaning up the wrapping paper and noticed a worn piece of notebook paper with writing on it mixed in with it. “What is this?” he asked while glancing over at Sarah?\n\n“I don’t know, why don’t you read it?” asked Sarah indignantly. \n\nMichael shrugged, opened the envelope and started reading: “HELP! You have to help us! Me and my men have been imprisoned for what seems like centuries shackled to tables, and forced to work, building and assembling items day in and day out without any break. We were on an arctic expedition and discovered purely by chance a secret slave operation producing items for reasons that we don’t know. We were captured by the ones working here, referred to as “elves”, and they look not of this world. They never sleep or eat and constantly watch us. My men have tried to escape, but in every attempt they hook them up to some sort of device and change them. I can’t explain it, but they are no longer human when they return. I have seen others be captured and try to handle it, but when they crack or try to run, they end up with the same fate. I have snuck out other notes before like this one, but no one has come. Please help us! I don’t know if I can survive here much longer.\n\nSigned,\n\nCapt. James Knight,\n\nHudson's Bay Company,\n\nNorthwest Passage Expedition”\n\n“Very funny” said Sarah sarcastically as she grabs the note, crumples it up, and tosses it in with the trash. “Don’t ruin this for him” she quietly snipped.\n\n“Yeah…” mutters Michael confused as to what just happened. “Oh well, let’s open another present!”", "Paul shifted down a gear in his Jeep as the group of four explorers approached this unusual landmark, each of them with eyes widened and jaws lowered in disbelief. \n\n\n“Is this some kind of sick joke?” Paul asked. \n\n\n“It looks so authentic, like something out of a Christmas film”, Erin replied. \n\n\n“Yeah, a horrific, sadistic Christmas film…” Paul muttered. \n\n\nThey sat there parked in silence for a few minutes as they gazed at the abandoned civilization. There was a fence made of giant candy cane posts and strung lights that surrounded the area for miles. Inside the fenced area there were numerous buildings made of what appeared to be gingerbread and candy. There were faded tracks in the snow of all shapes and sizes, some appeared to be human and others were clearly the print of a reindeer or similar animal. \nPaul shook himself back into clear consciousness and began to drive slowly toward the entrance. They drove under an archway that read “The N r h P le”, everyone still silent and motionless. The Jeep began to approach what seemed to be the main building. \n\n\n“I suppose this is the workshop” Doug said. \n\n\n“You don’t think that this is really… you know… do you?” Erin asked in disbelief. \n\n\nDoug stumbled over his words, “No… well, I… I… it just seems too ‘authentic’. Who would have taken the time to do this!? How have we not heard of or seen this before? IF this truly is the North Pole, if this is really ‘Santa’s Workshop’, then where the hell is everyone?” \n\n\nBrock, who had remained silent since the discovery, was the first to get out of the Jeep. He slowly walked toward the door of the workshop. He noticed that the front door was comprised of two doors, one for a normal (if not obese) person and one for a very small person. He chuckled. Reaching out his right hand he began to turn the handle and push the door open with severe caution. The door creaked as he edged it open. The others stayed in the Jeep, waiting out Brock’s actions before deciding to follow. Stepping into the unlit workshop he heard a very faint groan coming from the corner of the main room.\n \n\nBrock stopped. \n\n\nThe groaning continued for a moment and then a man, struggling to speak, asked, “Annalina… is that you?” \nA rush of emotions and thoughts run through Brock’s mind. “This can’t be happening”, he said quietly. \n“Is someone in here?” Brock asked. \n\n\n“Yes, young man. Please come over here and help me up.” the voice responded. \n\n\nBrock fumbled around the dark room as the lights turned on. He looked over to the corner and saw a man dressed in red robes, a red hat, red pants, and black boots stumbling trying to stand. He rushed over to help the man stand up. Brock perched the man against his shoulder and walked him over to a chair to sit him down.\n\n\nBrock stood there for a moment and stared at the man. His beard and hair were long and as white as snow. His boots had a faded word embroidered on them that read “K. Kringle”. The man looked weathered, severely aged, and distraught. \n“This is too real, too weird…” Brock whispered as he handed the man his canteen. \n\n\nThe man spoke again, “Brock is it? Ah yes, you've been on the Nice List for years. I’m sorry that I haven’t come to visit.” \n\n\nBrock shouted at the man, “How the hell do you know my name!? What the hell happened here? What is all of this shit?”\n\n\n“Perhaps I need to modify your standing on my list, Brock.” \n\n\nThe others heard the shouting from outside and rushed into the workshop. As they came into the room Brock was standing, facing a man who was collapsed in a chair. \n\n\n“Santa!” Erin yelled. \n\n\n“What the fu…?!” Paul muttered. \n\n\n“Ahh Paul, you were always teetering between the Naughty and Nice List.” ‘Santa’ said. \n\n\nPaul stepped back, “Brock! How does this man know my name?” \n\n\nBrock stumbled across his words and moments later stuttered a response, “Paul… I think this man is the real Kris Kringle.”\n\n\n“Of course it’s Santa! Look at him! Look at this place! He knows our names! It’s Santa!” Erin shouted. \n\n\n“Ho ho ho, Erin, you were always one of my favorite children to watch over.” The man started to regain his strength and charisma. “I believe I owe you all an explanation, though I never thought anyone would find me here.” \n\n\n“Shit yeah you do!” Paul exclaimed. \n\n\nErin punched Paul in the arm, “Paul, shut the hell up and let Santa speak!” \n\n\n“To start off, I am Santa, around here I was known as Mr. Claus and sometimes even St. Nicholas. The Misses always used to call me Kris.” Santa explained, “My legend began a few hundred years ago when the world was a much more simple and wondrous place. You guys know the story and for the most part it’s accurate. I used to deliver gifts to all the good girls and boys on the Eve of Christmas. I had eight reindeer and for a short while a pesky little bastard named Rudolph. This place used to be so jubilant, so full of life, especially with all of the elves running around with Christmas joy. The best part of this place was Mrs. Claus, I called her Annalina. She was the light of my life, the reason I woke up in the morning and tried to provide everyone with joy and happiness. Beautiful… she was so beautiful.” A look of desperation came over Santa’s face as he stopped speaking. \n\n\nThe four explorers stood there, each of them desperate for more information but none of them knowing how to respond. \nMinutes passed as Brock finally spoke, “Santa… what happened? How could the place you've described be the same place that we saw today?”\n\n\nSanta stared at him in deep thought. Moments passed before he could finally muster up the words. \n\n\n“Brock, the world changed. The people in the world became more self-involved and many people stopped believing in joy and happiness. Many started to lose themselves in their work, others became obsessed with what they wanted instead of what they had. My last Christmas was 40 years ago, I’ll never forget it. I received more Christmas lists than I could fulfill, each one longer than the next. My elves tried so hard to make quota that year for nothing brought them more joy than to see each child get everything they wanted, but we fell short. Every child did get presents that year but none of them got everything they asked for. That’s when the letters started to come in. One of them stuck out among the millions that were sent.\"\n\n\nDear Santa, \n\nWhy? I was a good boy this year. I did most of the chores that my mom asked me to do. I didn’t lie too much and I treated my sister nicely most of the time. You only sent HALF of the toys on my list! I know my list was long but who cares? You’re Santa! You’re supposed to give me what I want if I do my part to be good, and I was! Well guess what, Santa? I’m going to spread rumors around my school and tell everyone that you’re not real! That you’re a fraud! I hope by this time next year that no one believes in you! You’re stupid and selfish! \n\nDon’t bother coming next year, there won’t be cookies or milk and if there is, it will be poisoned. Bitch.\n\n-Timmy\n\n\n\n“There were many letters like this but this was the one that ended Christmas, and thus began the decline of the North Pole. Without the joy that children bring on Christmas morning, the elves perished. The reindeer could no longer fly without Christmas spirit, leaving them feeling unable and incompetent, they stopped eating and each one passed away a few months later. Annalina couldn't handle the aftermath of that Christmas, seeing the elves and reindeer die took a toll on her and she took her own life. After I found her remains, I thought of ending my own life… but I couldn't.” Santa was in tears at this point, stumbling over every word. \n\n\n“I’m so sorry, Mr. Claus. For what it’s worth I believed in you as a kid.” Brock muttered. \n\n\nThe other three explorers stood still, tears streaming down their faces. \n\n\n“Santa, we’ll help you rebuild. We’ll do everything we can to bring back the joy and happiness of Christmas.” Erin said. \n\n\n“I suppose we could try to… you know… help you.” Paul said reluctantly. \n\n\nSanta quietly responded, “You guys would really do this… for me?” \n\n\nDoug quickly replied, “Of course! We can’t leave you like this and the world is due for some change for the better!” \n\n\nSanta sat there in a stupor of thought for a few minutes. “This could work”, he said, “let’s get started!”\n", "The wind moans over the ruins like a heartbroken child. The Austrian can't shake the feeling this means something, but she can't quite place the idea.\n\n\"Soviet?\" she asks.\n\nThe driver shakes his head. He's from somewhere in Eastern Europe; she doesn't remember where, given that the drivers aren't a part of the scientific staff. She knows all fhe scientists, and knows none of them would be help with something like this.\n\n\"American built\", the driver opines. \"But not military. Is too much... what's the... the candy flat thing for December...\"\n\n\"Gingerbread?\"\n\n\"Yuh. Too gingerbread to be military. Must be some rich guy, who had a... a mansion here.\" Except that comes out as a \"maw zone\", which to the Austrian seems a little too appropriate. The walls have collapsed to snow-covered ridges, containing a morass of fallen rafters; it took them half an hour to uncover a corner with bent, splintered log-ends painted bright red and carved to resemble reindeer-heads. They can see the traces of a dozen fallen-down houses, now just outlines in the snow, some halls the size of airplane hangars, and one vast sweeping, irregular-edged hummock of a mansion.\n\nShe looks at the wall-corner they've uncovered; the wooden reindeer gaze up at her, grinning vacuously, red noses faded almost to pale-yellow wood.\n\n\"Who built this?\" she wonders out loud. \"Who were they? Where did they go?\"\n\n\"It's a long story.\"\n\nShe turns and frowns at the newcomer. \"Korhonen, you're not cleared for outdoors work. Get back in the truck.\"\n\nThe scientist laughs. \"Boss, please. I'm from Finland. This is like a gentle summer breeze for me.\" Given the Arctic snow wasteland which surrounds them, the claim is dubious. \"This is Santa's workshop.\"\n\nThat's dubious too.\n\n\"Get back in the trailer. Your brain's frozen.\"\n\n\"No, Boss, seriously. Truet me, Santa lives in Finland.\"\n\n\"Screw you, Korhonen. I'm calling Disco.\"\n\nAs the Austrian stomps back towards the trucks, the driver leans close to the Finn and whispers: \"What do you know?\"\n\nThe Finn smirks. \"It's a well-known tale, in Finland anyway. It was back during the Cold War, Santa was leaning towards the Americans, then towards the other side, and tensions were crazy here at the top of the world. The elves were crawling with Commie agitators; the reindeer-industrial complex was getting regular weapons shipments --- 'gifts' --- from the CIA, and the Secret Elf Police... well, you didn't want to end up with 'Naughty' stamped on your card, OK? They used to... look, imagine 'coal in a stocking' except it's not coal and it's not your stocking it's in. Eventually it all went sour, there was a coup, Santa fled to Finland... there was a short-lived dictatorship here, the Donner-Blitzen-Smith triumvirate... they basically sold the business to American interests, and it all bled overseas. Well over the Arctic Sea anyway. Unemployment became riots, riots became a matter of rubber bullets and protest songs, there was this reindeer labor organizer called Rudolph the Red... In the end the whole mess was abandoned when the industry was gone, and it was overrun by native polar tribesbears.\"\n\n\"So...\" The driver tugs at his peaked cap and frowns. \"So Santa lives in Finland now? What's he doing? Will he come back?\"\n\n\"No kingdom to come back to. He never got rid of the accusations that he was a bit.,, 'Red'... so there was no going back. Now there's nothing left. I think he has a job in the Finnish tourist byro or something.\"\n\n\"Do you know what happened to the elves?\"\n\nThe Finn shrugs. \"Who knows? Last winter's snows, man, last winter's snows. Let's get back to the trucks; I need coffee.\"\n\nAfter he's gone, the driver, who has very local roots, adjusts his peaked green cap one last time, checks that his pointed ears are covered, wipes a tear, and walks away." ]	3
Not adventure time the show, sorry. Unless you wanna write one they did. If you don't feel like replying to any, you can always start another of your own, obviously.	[WP] Adventure time! Start an adventure, replies continue the adventure.	[ "Purgatory was an obsession for her. Ever since she was young she always contemplated the meaning of death. She had a very active imagination, and was always treated differently for it. She remembered her 4th grade teacher. He was a tool. All of them were tools, all of what seemed to interest them was trivial. Like they had chosen to ignore the inevitable, and pretend it didn't exist. He had contacted her mom to tell her about how 'special' she was, and how he feared she would 'harm' other students with her 'unusual' conversations. Of course her mother didn't care. 'Your dad is the reason we are miserable'. 'He doesn't love you'. 'He left us behind to go marry a slut'. She knew she was different. Epicurus, was her idol. 'Why should I fear death? If I am death is not, if death is I am not, why should I fear that which only exists when I do not?'. Religion offered her mind no consolation, it provided nothing. A way to revive denial, and mitigate the inevitable. 'He died for all our sins'. Why would death be a negative implication for a deity? Religion feeds on guilt, it creates comfort by denying yourself freedom to act upon your inner inhibitions. You are happy that you are, without a doubt, sure of your interpretation of life and death. By shutting down your innate instincts, you are rewarded when you die. She knew the truth. All these pending questions were dormant by the fact that you acknowledged an idea. An idea you are so sure of. An idea you adopted without question when you were born. An idea established mainly due to geographical predispositions. Secretly they fear death, they fear that maybe their interpretation was not correct. She didn't fear death as a matter of fact she waited for it. She waited for it to come. An escape from the mundane, the redundant, the inevitable. An escape from the rational mind, and what little it had to offer in comparison to death. Life is the lie everyone loved, whereas death was the truth everyone hated. She was ostracized by her school peers growing up, but she didn't mind. In fact she reinforced this treatment, she remembered Fydor Dostoevsky's concept of self-lacerating love. She felt that by harming her social status, she would learn how to love herself. Her mind was an array of the ambivalent. Yes, she hated her life, but by hating her life she also loved herself. That's when she decided to explore purgatory. Thats when she decided to kill herself. ", "Sir Daven Longworth was a noble man. Not necessarily noble in the sense of having land, but noble of heart, noble of deed, at least that's what he told himself. \n\nFor the past twenty years, the aging knight had traveled the country, seeking adventure and employment where he could. He never took a job that would hurt someone, and he had never bloodied his mace on another person. He would always tackle the more difficult problems, bears, wolves, cave lions and the like.\n\nHis staunch desire to keep human life sacred had hurt him a time or two. There was that one outing in that backwater town where he ended up a little bruised and scarred. The bandits had taken everything and he had needed a full year before he was back to fighting form.\n\nOverall, however, he had done well for himself. People knew him as \"The Hunter.\" He had a name known far and wide and he got work throughout the land. He might not have lands, titles, a family, but he had a legacy, and truly, what more could a man want.\n\nIn the next town he rode into he received a hero's welcome. \"Long live the Hunter,\" they cried.\n\nThe town headsman approached him about a job. Although Sir Daven was older, he knew he could take. But this job, Daven quickly understood, was to be a little different.", "My hands trembled as I held the steering wheel. I thought back to my drivers ed class, which made great emphasis that you were to turn into the spin. Sadly I was incapable of such a maneuver, I was dead. The puddle in the road saw to that.\n\nMy body was still, but pain consumed me. my eyes were somehow opened by the force of the collision with the electric pole jutting from the ground. Despite being a prisoner of my own body, I tried to move. Get my cellphone in hand? Maybe an onlooker saw and I could flag them down? Wait! Someone DID see me crash. I felt elation, now my suffering would... wait...", "\"Hard to port!\" The captain shouted. The engines strained as the starboard engines boosted power to assist the battle cruiser in turning. Three destroyer class ships were closing and there were no other allies in this sector of the nebula. \"No ships in range for assistance, sir.\" The communications officer stated. \"Prepare rear shield and deflectors.\" The captain was going over maneuvers and formulas in his head as he spat out commands. \"Captain, new unidentified ships entering space ahead\"....", "Traka was always an old miser. Even at the age of thirteen, when he should have been chasing girls and reading things to make him more stupid, he longed for the peaceful life. A living boat appealed to him, mostly. \n\nThough they were far too expensive for a mere soldier's son, he ogled them while they rested, suspended on great Skyhooks dug into the side of the Mooring Cliffs, sleeping, waiting. A knock on the side of his head brought reality tidally back.\n\n\"Focus, boy!\"\n\nHe hated practicing with swords. He longed for something less, but instead, it seemed, he was destined for heroism. His father eyed him suspiciously, as though Traka was hiding his true hero nature and would attack at any moment.\n\n\"Give me your best!\"\n\nTraka lifted his sword. It looked to be a long winter." ]	5
The harder it is the guess, the more fun it is to figure out; Like literary charades. An example might be a world that never discovered gunpowder, or one where a certain taboo doesn't exist.	[WP] Write a story in a world which is similar to ours, except for one significant part. Do not explicitly state the difference, but show the effect it has on society.	[ "The sex was great. It was always great with my wife. I wish I could take credit, but from my past experiences, I can tell you that when the sex was great, it definitely wasn’t my doing. I’m just a willing participant. When we finished, she rolled off me, and walked to the bathroom, her sheer body suit openly displaying her nudity. Even after ten years, it still sent a rush to my groin, seeing her naked. After her shower, she left, no hug good bye, no kiss on the cheek, just a bow as she walked out the door. I nodded from the bed. Once she had gone, I peeled off my sweaty body suit and headed to the shower, dropping the breathable rubber outfit into the incinerator on my way to the bathroom. \n\nThe water felt good, washing off the sweat and grime that had built up in the body suit. I flipped on the steam function and felt as the steam cleaned the last vestiges of the physical effort from my body. I carefully shaved my head before drying off in the blast of slightly warmed sanitized air that came from the grates on the floor. The system had cost a fortune, but the peace of mind had been worth it. When I added up the money saved from the daily washing of the towels, the system would pay for itself in only four years. \n\nI put on my suit, the blue one and then put on my gloves, the black ones. The gloves had been sitting in the UV case next to my phone, which I slid into the inside pocket of my suit. I, reassuringly, felt the lump of the sanitizing gel next to my phone. I grabbed a new facemask from the dispenser and strapped it around my neck. I grabbed a simple white bag from the dryer. It had been freshly washed and was still warm from the dryer cycle. I tucked a box of latex gloves, a bottle of anti-bacterial spray, an extra facemask, and a clean towel into the bag and headed out the door. \n\nThe door had also been a splurge; a voice activated one with no doorknob. The stainless steel doorknobs never stood up to the daily cleaning, no knobs meant no cleaning. I stood in front of the door and spoke: \n“Open” \nThe door swung open, revealing the stark beige hallway of our condominium complex. The walls were a dull plastic that were sanitized on an hourly basis. The elevator was also voice activated and wished me a nice day on the ground floor. It was a warm day, July in Portland can bring some heat, but a cool breeze was blowing in off the ocean. I could feel the breeze as it played across my bare head, I put on my sunglasses and headed to the bus stop. The RFID scanner on the bus automatically connected with my phone, allowing me to pay the fare without stopping or handing the driver any money. The bus was full, the divisions between the seats had limited the number available, but I was content to stand. I pulled a single latex glove from my bag and put it on over my gloves. The latex glove stuck to the stainless steam pole. I smiled at the woman who got on after me; she was standing about three feet away, holding onto the next pole with her hand wrapped around a towel. I offered her a latex glove, but she declined. \n\nThe trip to work was relatively uneventful, until the second to last stop. A man got on wearing jeans and polo shirt. He handed the driver a grubby fiver dollar bill and waited for his change. The driver carefully handed him three crisp, brand new bills, which he unceremoniously stuffed into the front pocket of his jeans. He elbowed his way past the riders in front of me and I could see, with some terror that he had intended to stand between the woman and me. He settled between us, and grabbed the overhead bar with a bare hand. I watched as the bar around his hand fogged slightly as the condensation from his hot palm heated the surrounding bar. He opened his fingers and shifted his hand a little further back on the bar, leaving a handprint in the gleaming metal. He had obviously been doing hard labor, as his hair was sweaty and he had a humid cloud that hung about him. His polo shirt was a little frayed at the neck crease and still bore the small tag from the dry cleaner. He caught me staring at him and smiled: \n“Good morning” He said cheerfully smiling at me. \nI smiled instinctively, but could smell his minty breath from behind my mask. I contemplated getting off the bus. The woman behind him did. I saw her as she got off; practically gagging as she tried to remove what appeared to be a stray hair from her blouse. She had dropped her towel onto the ground. The guy noticed that she dropped her towel and bent over to pick it up, extending a hand through the door, holding the soiled rag as if an offering to the woman. \n“Hey, ma’am, you dropped this!” \nThe woman suppressed a dry heave, turned, and hurried away from the bus, rubbing her hands vigorously with sanitizing gel as she walked. \n“Eh, oh well.” The guy said tucking the rag into his back pocket. \nI swallowed the urge to vomit and closed my eyes. I imagined a clean white plate under a UV lamp, a glass bucket filled with concentrated bleach, my steam shower, whatever I could. \n“Excuse me. Time to get off.” I opened my eyes; the guy was standing just inches from me. I caught his eyes and he pointed at the door, which I was blocking. \n“My apologies.” I turned to get off the bus, and reveled in the cleansing glow of the hot sun. I walked to the nearest incinerator and dropped my latex glove into the box. Then, remembering the guy, I removed my regular gloves and facemask dropping them in as well. I put on a fresh pair of latex gloves and a new facemask. I took a deep break of filtered air and set off to my office. \n", "To OP: You did nothing wrong. People are just jerks and downvote a lot of prompts on here. You're actually quite lucky that yours has gotten so many upvotes.\n\n“Hey Daniel,” she said as he walked into the cafe. She turned her head to look at him.\n\n“Hi,” he waved back. He then walked over to the counter and ordered himself a cup of coffee. The whole time he kept his eyes on Emily, even when he was paying, which caused him to accidentally give the cashier a dollar bill instead of the five dollar bill he had meant to hand him. Coffee in tow, he walked over and sat down. \n\n“You think maybe you’d like to go on a walk or something,” he asked.\n\n“Sure,” Emily replied, her smile as beautiful as ever. They both stood up, grabbing their coffees, Emily slinging her purse over her shoulder, and walked out into the cold winter day, headed for the movie theater a few blocks away. “I’m glad you asked me out.”\n\n“I’m glad you actually came,” Daniel replied. He pushed Emily out of the way as a bicyclist came speeding up behind them, nearly running them over. Fortunately he had seen it coming in time.\n\n“Damn bikers!” Emily cursed, spitting at the ground. “They have a fucking bike lane. Use it already.” Suddenly her cheeks got red as she realized that she had started to cuss.\n\n“Asshole!” Daniel yelled out after the biker, trying to make her not feel bad for cussing. To tell the truth, he didn’t really care whether a woman cussed or not. “I have to admit, the back of your head is very beautiful as are your eyes.”\n\nEmily suddenly became bashful.\n\n“Thanks,” she replied. “Yours doesn’t look so bad itself.”\n\n“Ouch!” Daniel yelled in pain as someone walked by, knocking him in the back of the head by accident. “That hurts so much!”\n\n“Are you alright?” Emily asked softly. She was looking down at the wriggling Daniel on the sidewalk, clasping the back of his head in pain.\n\n“I’m fine,” he said as she extended her hand to help him up. He stumbled a bit as he got up and found that he had accidentally pulled Emily into his clutches. Feeling impulsive, he brought her lips to his and kissed her. He watched as people passed by behind him, some with disapproving looks, others smiling, reminded of a time when they were young and in love.\n\n“Wow,” Emily whispered as their lips fell apart. She was having a hard time standing.\n\n“Wow indeed,” Daniel whispered back. Their breath froze in the breeze as he held her close to his side and they walked to the movie theater. It was only after they started walking that Daniel realized he had spilled his coffee, the contents of it spread in plain view across the sidewalk behind him.\n\n-351", "\"That's the problem with these immigrants, they don't know any better. They can't assimilate into a more advanced society after a thousand years of beating each other over the head with stones.\"\n\nThe three university students were enjoying a relaxing and cool smoke after classes at the lounge by the Engineering college. The top of the building was glass and gave a view of the cloudy sky above.\n\n\"It's their religion too,\" Mansu quickly followed after Samir, \"it's inherently violent, and it's been that way since the crusades and before.\"\n\nRahim was tired of listening to the same rhetoric over and over. The immigrants still had families they had to feed. It seems all they wanted to do was ride the metro to work and make it home in one piece like everyone else.\n\n\"The extremist acts of a few don't represent everyone,\" Rahim countered, \"it's not like the Quran is without violence either. It's not like every act done supposedly in the name of Islam has been just and without violence. The vast, vast majority just want to live a normal life, they don't share the political goals of terrorists.\"\n\n\"Oh boy, there Rahim goes again with his guilt of color,\" Samir laughed, \"they're taking advantage of our welfare, commiting a disproportionate amount of violent crime, and you think the vast majority are just these blameless peaceful people who want to be like you and me?\"\n\nMansu blew out a thick cloud of smoke from the vaporizer before speaking. \"Rahim, before the nation states of Europe fell they used people who looked like me, people from West Africa, as slaves. I don't even want to think about what my life would be like today if things kept going that way,\" Mansu shuddered at the thought.\n\n\"Which brings me to another point,\" Samir chimed in, \"it's these immigrants who are the real racists. But if I draw attention to that then I'm the real racist,\" Samir flared his hands out in sarcasm. \"For fuck's sake, these people committed genocide against all the people of the Americas. Thank fucking allah that we stopped them before the world lost an entire continent's people and way of life.\"\n\nRahim hated these conversations. It seemed like every day people were becoming more conservative and less empathetic. He wondered if things had been different and the Ottomans had lost the war, if things would be reversed and his own family would have ended up as immigrants facing the same attitudes that Europeans face today.\n\nThe three school friends left their table at the smoking lounge to head home. Rahim said goodbye to his friends, and they acted as if the conversation wasn't that important and everything was alright, but to Rahim things weren't alright at all.\n\nOn his walk home Rahim saw a poor boy getting taunted in the park. \"Whitey!\" they yelled at him. \"stupid little pale boy\" they said together in a singing cheer. They prodded at him with a tree branch and the boy was huddled on the grass sobbing.\n\n\"Hey, stop!\" Rahim yelled, \"I know your mother, and your mother too Omar, go away before I tell her what you said.\"\n\nThe little boys dispersed and the white boy had taken his hands off from over his head. Snot and tears were soaking his face so he wiped them on the back of his sleeve.\n\nRahim smiled at him, \"I'm Rahim. What's your name little one?\"\n\n\"Nicholas,\" the boy said after sniffing.\n\n\"Nicholas, what a nice name.\" Rahim offered the boy his hand. The boy took it and was helped up onto his feet.\n\n\"Where do you live Nicholas?\"\n\nNicholas wiped his eyes, \"I live in the quarter houses, the small ones on the other side of the metro track,\" the boy pointed past the sleek metal of the transit line to the gray little slum beyond.\n\n\"Ok Nicholas, let me walk you there.\" The boy took Rahim's hand and didn't let go the whole way home.\n\n" ]	3
	[WP] Santa's elves are actually kidnapped children.	[ "It was early morning and Johnny couldn't sleep. The light was just brimming over the garden outside, refracting beautiful spots of colour over the garden though icey lenses. He gently slipped his legs out of his bed and into his little green slippers, making sure not to disturb the floorboards all the while. The air was a perfect cool, the sort you only get on a really good Christmas, that bloomed into grey wagon wheels of steam when you breathed precious warm air into it. He placed one hand close to the hinge of the door so it opened silently, with the familiarity of someone worryingly used to getting around the house silently; after all, what were night times for but staying up silently under the bedcovers, or behind the sofa? Around the landing, around the cat, and tiptoe tiptoe tiptoe down the stairs. Johnny had reached the front room. He shivered, glad for his slippers. Then, too his surprise, noticed a small sound coming from the living room. Orange light was flickering though the glass in the door, and there came the sounds of some strange sort of deranged Christmas carols. The voices were all quite high, but very gravelly, and every so often one would warble off into the upper registers, or another would make a thumping sound, and go into a fit of coughing. Whilst you or I would have been terrified, little Johnny was only 6, and unlike you or I, was a good deal more sensible had not yet realized that giant purple and green things had a habit of dwelling in his closet, or that a non chronologically correct hand could grab your foot from under your bed, so, whilst nonplussed, ventured closer to the door, and peered though. Inside, crouched around the fireplace, were a group of, whilst fairly short, spindly grey creatures, warming their hands around it. The milk and cookies could be vaguely identified sloshed and smeared around the walls, and the grey creatures' faces. The Christmas tree, formerly in the corner of the room, had been felled, and the tinsel and fairly lights adorned, and in one peculiar case, garroted the creatures. Fascinated by the bizarre scene, Johnny looked closer. The fur rug that had been in the center of the room had been pulled up and hung from the wall, where someone seemed to have scrawled a sort of message on it in mother's best cranberry sauce. Then, a cold claw-like hand placed itself on his shoulder. Whilst he may have not been scared of the creatures themselves, his heart attempted to jump out of his mouth at this, and he had to put his hand over it to stifle a scream. Johnny's parents had not, God bless them, taught Johnny that it was not always a good idea to be a quiet little boy that was seen and not heard.\n\n\"We gots a neeeeew ooone!\" Said the thing behind him, opening the door up, and steering him in by the shoulder. Johnny's legs obeyed. There was widespread jubilant shrieking, and all of the creatures jumped and crawled over too him, echoing the words.\n\n\"A neeew oone! A neeew oone!\"\n\n\"Nice teeth, pleasant complexion!\" cried one, pulling open his mouth\n\n\"Skinny legs, needs fattening up!\" said another\n\n\"Eyes like pearls, free of infection.\"\n\n\"Body shape? Like an egg cup.\" said one, sizing him up from a distance.\n\n\"Could go for a dollar back at home.\"\n\n\"Give him to Santa? Or the market at Stockholm...\"\n\n\"We'd better get him buuuundled uuuuuuuuuuuuup!\" burst though a final one, with a finishing crescendo. And then something hit him over the head, that felt an awful lot like a haddock, stuffed him in a bag, and nobody saw Johnny ever, ever ever\n\nagain", "It was always assumed that Santa gave the naughty children coal. What most of the world doesn't realize is that the real naughty children don’t get coal at all; they get turned into Elves.\n\nWe follow the story of a boy named Nathan. Nathan, to be blunt, was a bully. He would steal the lunch money of his classmates, he would throw rocks at birds and other small animals, and he would constantly beat up the smaller kids of the school. He’d been suspended so many times he was about to flunk the second grade for a third consecutive year. Nathan was what Santa considered a naughty child.\n\nIt was early in the morning on Christmas day, the sky still pitch black, the world still dead silent. Santa landed on Nathan’s roof before magically fluttering down the chimney. He worked his way up to Nathan’s room to find the boy fast asleep in his bed. Santa sprinkled a touch of sleeping dust over the boys head before aggressively hoisting him up and dumping him in his knapsack. As he worked his way back downstairs towards the chimney, Santa was sure to leave both of Nathan’s little sisters an extra nice gift that year before he appeared back in his sleigh.\n\nThey arrived at the North Pole, a futuristic looking toy factory run by small people with pointy ears. Santa climbs out of his sleigh onto his landing pad with his knapsack firmly in hand. He unties the top of the bag before dumping Nathan out across the floor. As the boy wipes off his face and gathers to his feet, he notices he is surrounded by a circle of small people in green suits, pointy hands, and shoes with bells. Before the boy has a chance to ask any questions, the Elves surround him and bind his arms and legs together before dragging him off towards a room with bright red letters above illuminating: “Surgery”.\n\nMore sleeping dust is applied to Nathan before an angry looking Snowman appears with a scalpel and a face mask. A few brief minutes later, Nathan awakes with both of his ears bandaged. A group of Elves ties rope around both of his wrists and then drag him over towards Santa’s office.\n\nThe boy enters a large room with marble flooring and a two story window that allowed Santa to see out beyond the North Pole. The Elves place the boy on a stool adjacent from Santa’s desk, tying the rope to a hook on the ground before leaving the room, closing the two large wooden doors behind them.\n\nSanta had his back faced to Nathan as he peered out across the snow covered land. As he turned around, he blew a large cloud of smoke out from his corncob pipe, and slowly approached Nathan with a smirk on his face.\n\n“Well my boy,” Santa said with hearty tone from his belly, “do you know what happens to naughty kids?”\n\n“N-… no… no sir,” the boy replied, stuttering with each attempt to speak.\n\nSanta puts down his pipe, pulls open a drawer and pulls out a power drill with a microchip at the tip. He approached Nathan, placed the drill bit at the base of his neck, and said with his same happy tone, “This” as he pulled on the trigger." ]	2
	[WP] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the LAST words anyone will ever speak to them. When you receive yours it says simply "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?"	[ "Starbucks... even the name brought nausea and hate to my stomach. For 40 years I was too afraid of entering the ubiquitous coffee shops. My instinct to survive and fight drove me to build my own coffee empire, driving Starbucks out of business, corner by corner, city by city. This was the war I waged over my life.\n\nThis was the last standing Starbucks, a ratty hole in the wall on the outskirts of Seattle, shutting it's doors forever in only a few minutes. I built my life to see the destruction of Starbucks, I wasn't going to let it kill me. I've neglected friends and family to see this day come, my work was who I am. This moment is what I have lived for.\n\nI look around and I don't see anyone except for the young man at the counter, cleaning up before they close forever. Maybe I misunderstood all those years ago. Maybe this isn't where I die. I feel an uncontrollable gravity drawing me inside, something akin to curiosity.\n\nI step inside. It's empty. I walk up to the counter, each step taking every fiber of my will to make. The young man smiles at me as I approach and says\"We're closing soon but you're going to be the last customer of Starbucks. Believe it or not we were a huge corporation at one point.\"\n\nI smile and utter, \"Yeah, I've heard.\" I don't know if he heard me above my raging heart beat. Did I waste my life fighting this? I haven't felt loved in decades because of my coffee empire. It's consumed who I was.\n\n\"Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?\" the young man says, smiling.\n\nI turn and sprint for the door. Outside my head feels light from hyperventilating, I'm still alive!\n\n...\n\nWhat now? What do I left now?" ]	1
	[WP] You're an adult now and you have gotten rid of your old toys; however, your new toys also come to life when you're not around.	[ "\"For the Emperor!\" Boltguns thundered, chainswords screamed. Brother Champion Gerhard had lead his fellow Black Templars into the midst of the enemy army. The carnage was ultimate. Dozens of orks fell before their righteous fury. \n\"AAAWWWWRIIIII'T u 'UUUMIEES! Time for a bashin'!\" It was the ork Waaaghboos, towering at least 2 1/2 Inches high, weilding a crude axe. he ploughed through his own smaller boyz to get to the Chmpion of the Emperor faster. He lifted his massive axe and...froze. All of them froze. \"Awww no no' again!\" muttered the Waaghboss through gritted teeth. \n\"Silence, Xenos, he musn't hear us!\"\n\"I would have definitely beat you dis time, humie!\"\n\"shhh!\"\n\n- \"ahhh that break was necessary, where were we?\" \n- \"the challenge between my Waaaghboss and your Champion of the Emperor.\"\n- \"Ah, yes.\" rolling dice \"two hits\" more rolling dice \"1wound with the 'instant death' special rule\"\n- rolls dice \"Not again! Damn you rolling those sixes every time!\"\n\nA huge hand bore down on the Waaaghboss, grabbed him and lifted him away from the Champion. Gerhard could see that the Ork was seething with frustration. Then the ork lost his temper for a second and bit the finger which was holding it.\n\n* \"Ouch!\"\n* \"huh? whats up?\"\n* \"Oh, nothing, I think I just stung myself on one of those pointy spikes on the Waaaghboss.\"\n\nThank the Emperor, THAT had been close. \"Maybe I should let him win once in a while, \" Gerhard thought by himself \"just to prevent incidents like these from happening. The Emperor will understand.\"\n", "The door slammed shut. “Alright, he’s gone,” whispered the Laptop. His Microsoft Sam voice made everyone giddy.\n\n“Wait,” Siri hushed from the iPhone, “he forgot me!”\n\n“Oh yeah,” 3DS gasped, “Everyone, shh!” The door reopened and the young man stepped in. He pulled on the iPhone and the charger ripped off. He headed for the door again and stopped in the threshold. Turning around, he stared at the 3DS and contemplated. With a shrug and a step, he snatched the 3DS off the counter and stuffed it into his pocket. The handheld’s light blinked a couple of times to signal a “Nice…” in Morse code. Every other gadget in the room giggled silently, even the printer. The boy walked through the threshold for the second time, and closed the door again. \n\n“Clear!” yelled the Bluetooth speakers. Like Bumblebee from Transformers, he had started the song “Clear”, by Cybotron. It was his special way of communicating. Luckily, his owner was in touch with technology and he had an extensive library of music. The 21st century toys rolled as close as they could get to the end of their respective shelves so they could view the TV. A few lucky devices were able to grab a front row seat because the boy had left them on the ground. Some unfortunate gadgets, like the PS3, and the DVD player were forced to watch their friends view the TV, but it didn’t faze them. They mostly enjoyed the talking, and the TV was usually background noise, especially since he liked to drone on and on in conversations.\n\n“Why didn’t he take me?” The PSVita cried.\n\n“It’s okay honey,” the PS3 soothed. \n\n“Hah,” laughed the PS4.\n \n“I’m gonna end up like Dell Inspiron over there,” PSVita pointed at the old laptop that the boy had brought out to sell.\n \n“You’re young,” the newer laptop spoke, “just give it some time.” The gadgets continued to laugh and talk about everything new that happened between then and the last time they convened the day before. A couple of unused, broken, and cemented devices stayed dormant in other areas of the house. They couldn’t attend the party. The desktop computer in the office, the TV in the boy’s room, and the upstairs Roomba held separate parties in other sections, but there still existed a couple of toys that never hung out with the others. There were the broken ones, of course, that couldn’t even interact with their owner let alone any other devices on the network. But the most controversial was the one toy that wasn’t allowed to participate in the gathering. The toy that lay hidden deep in a drawer, under a pile of junk. Unseen by anyone that tried searching for it, the pariah of the young man’s 21st century devices was a toy he used for pleasure. As each day went by, it heard the other gadgets having fun around it, and even if it tried it couldn’t escape the prison to which it had been suppressed. The only glimpse of hope it would get would be every couple of nights when the boy dug the toy out for some late night enjoyment. The fleshlight was trapped forever.\n" ]	2
He sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake, he knows when you've been bad or good...and the CIA wants to know how.	[WP] Santa Claus is real and really can see you when you're sleeping as the song goes. The US Government wants to leverage Santa's ability to aid in the war on terror.	[ "In one swift motion, my captor pulled the sack off of my face.\n\n\"What in bleeding heck is this! I'll have you know I have friends in high places - why, when they hear about what's happened to me they'll - \"\n\n\"Enough of the noise, Santa\"\n\nI was taken aback. Who would be so brave as to not only kidnap but dismiss I, St Nicholas? Only someone brave or stupid, surely. I hope for the latter. \n\nThey pull the LED light and nose scenter away from me, allowing me to take in my surroundings and dispel my sense of santaclaustrophobia. Rather than as the commute would have suggested, I was not underground - it was dark, but that was due to it being night time. The air was too fresh to be subterran, but too thick to be near the countryside. This was neither a kidnapping by the nymphs or Beelzebub, the bastard...humans?\n\nAs my eyes adjust, I survey the area. I am seated on an uncomfortable wooden chair in a room with a clean, carpeted floor. There was paintings hung around and American flags posted in each corner.\n\nI turn to face the windows in front of me where I do see what appears to be a grass lawn; then finally, to the captor facing outwards to the windows with his back towards me.\n\nHe is a tall man, made seemingly taller by my sitting down between us. I try to jostle my self up, but my hands are bound tight to the chair.\n\nHis skin is a smooth caramel tan, but not quite as dark as an African's. He definitely wasn't white, however; I assume mixed race. His hair is greying, but he has a full head of it, and he seems to stand with a strong sort confidence.\n\n\"So, Nicholas is your name? Nice to meet you, Mr. Nicholas. I apologize for the discourtesy of my guards on their behalf\"\n\nHis voice is unsurprising to me - it is similarly strong to his posture. The voice of a diplomat, or a politician.\n\n\"Who are you?\", I ask him as he turns to face me.\n\n\"Me? Why, my name is Barack Obama. You may know me as the president of the United States - no less, the president of the Free World.\n\nHis face is lined - his ears are oddly shaped, but that is made up for with the undeniable strength of his face. His jawline is not too imposing, but not youthful either. His face is set as that of a man with many responsibilities - aged before its time, quite likely his mind too.\n\nBut as I look into his eyes, I see something else - a weakness I may be able to exploit. Jealousy? No. Admiration? Not quite...no, I see hunger, plain as could be.\n\n\"So...now that the pleasantries are over with, what do you want?\"\n\nHis face gives nothing away, but again I read his eyes - I see them flick upwards and then back down to mine. He's thinking.\n\n\"Now then, Mr Claus, I hope you can share my santaments. I have a proposition for you\"\n\nHe takes another santa pause - I can see he is thinking.\n\n\"I'll cut right to it, Mr Clause. I require someone with just your skill set.\n\"I'm sure you know about our insurgency problems in the middle-east - a decade and more we've fought it now. I need someone able to survey our enemies.\"\n\nIn a surprisingly hasty choice of speech, he quickly adds,\n\n\"Are you in?\"\n\nOnce again I am confounded by his behaviours.\n\n\"Ho - ho - hold on one second there, Mr. Obama. I'm going to need more information than that. So how about I give you a small suggestion.\n\"You're going to untie me from this chair, and start smacking those santa-jaws away with a real explanation of what you want - that, or you get nothing\".\n\nFinished for now - if you guys want, I can add more tomorrow; for the moment, however, it is 2:30AM and I cannot keep awake while writing this. Pip pip!", "\"I don't like the look of this guy, Agent Cole,\" Agent Thompson whispered as he peered through binoculars at a wiry Turkish man in simple clothing. \"You sure this is the target?\"\n\nCole turned to his naive partner, raising an unseen eyebrow beneath his snow goggles. \"Thompson, we're at the North fuggin' Pole. Who the hell else would be here? That's St. Nicholas of Myra, a.k.a. Santa Claus, a.k.a. Father Christmas.\"\n\nThe two CIA agents crawled through the snow toward the mythical giver of Christmas joy. \"I know you're there, Jonathan Whitfield Cole and Harvey Daniel Thompson,\" said the red-cheeked old man as he moved unmarked bags onto his vehicle. \"Now, I can only assume what your government is planning. It's not my position to judge governing bodies, but might I say this plan has landed more than a few Senators and CIA leaders on the naughty list?\" Father Christmas paused. The rustling of the two men in white snowsuits had subsided. \"Now, please, come inside for some nice hot cocoa and I'll discuss my terms.\"\n\nThe two agents, prepared to take St. Nicholas by force, stood in a daze and trudged through the snow to the cottage situated in the middle of a major industrial complex. Inside, a plump white-haired woman brought out gingerbread cookies and hot cocoa on a silver platter and said, \"Oh, Kris will be with you handsome gentleman in a minute. Please, make yourselves at home. I've just thrown another log on the fire!\" Cole and Thompson took two wooden stools opposite a large, empty velvet-covered thrown and sat quietly. For a few minutes, Thompson tried, in vain, to think of the words he'd been meaning to say and instead munched on his gingerbread man's head.\n\nSanta Claus entered, wreathed by a group of six to eight black men. One of the black men pulled back the elderly saint's chair and Santa took his throne with a heavy manner. \"Now, boys, I'm sure you understand the gravity of the situation. If the American government succeeds with their plan of capturing me, they'll have single-handedly killed Christmas. Because, you see, I'm not just the figurehead of Christmas, this North Pole toy-industrial-complex and I are its lifeblood. You remove either me or the factory and you kill Christmas. I've seen your Fox News and if they think your liberal government's war on Christmas is bad now, wait until they learn that Christmas can never be celebrated again.\"\n\n\"That is a sacrifice the US government is willing to make, sir,\" Agent Cole spoke up. \"What are your terms to make this transition as easy as possible?\" One of Santa's posse put a thick, calloused hand on Agent Cole's shoulder and said in a deep voice, \" Je praat niet.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" St. Nicholas said to his helper. \"You do not seem to understand, Jonathan. Without Christmas, I will no longer have reason on this Earth and Christ Our Lord will take me to His Kingdom. I cannot come with you.\"\n\nA prolonged silence fell on the table.\n\n\"Boys,\" Santa said. \"Kill them.\"" ]	2
	[WP] The character(s) discover where the narrator has been hiding.	[ "Mary was closer to getting her revenge than she had ever been. Her target would drive past her apartment five hours from now, and she was ready to take the shot. She had checked and double checked everything. \n\nShe thought nothing could go wrong, until she checked her e-mail and saw that an anonymous sender had sent a message with a blank subject line and an attachment titled 'revenge ROUGH DRAFT'.\n\nAs Mary read the file she grew more and more concerned. It appeared to be a summary of the last few months of her life. Not everything was accurate, but the vast majority of it was. But it was end that shocked her the most. \n\n\"Why do I die at the end?\"", "For years, the citizens of Eventide had heard the voice. A quiet voice, softly narrating their lives. A friendly voice. Sometimes it narrated little Franklin's pleasant dreams. Sometimes it told of old Mr. Baines' budding love for old Widow Marcy. Sometimes it told fantastical tales, which sometimes even came true. The voice told all kinds of stories, but nobody ever paid it much mind. Except when it told scary stories; the kind that make you crawl under your covers at dusk, and keep checking that your flashlight's batteries are fresh. These stories were rare, but the town had learned to fear them as much as it had learned to fear the tornadoes it narrated, the heart attacks it foreshadowed.\n\nDo you ever wonder what's REALLY under your bed? Who's REALLY watching you from the closet? Have you ever thought to look? You know it's a monster, lurking there, in your closet, in every closet, just as surely as you know that nobody could possibly have come into your house to hide there. You know it's out to get you.\n\n But now that the thought is in your head, you're too paralyzed with fear to act. You cower beneath the sheets, just... hey, OW! What? Stop it! Put down the bat! OW! Franklin, what the hell are you doing? Nobody's supposed to be able to OW open the damn closet! Go back to AAAAGH I'm BLEEDING! Why did you DO that? Aaaagh, I'm bleeding BAD! WHY? This isn't funny! Go call 911, I think you broke something.\n\nAaaagh, where did you go? Come back! It HURTS! Please, help me! I never wanted to hurt you, any of you! I swear! Jesus, there's so much blood...\n\nThank God you're back, listen, I need... No. Oh no. Wait! Please, put down the gun and\n", "Jack sprinted down a city street, weaving and dodging his way through the crowds. He didn’t know exactly who was chasing him, but he knew without a doubt that somebody was. He ducked around a corner breathing hard, and then ran down the alley and pulled himself over a wall. \n\nHis pursuer came into the alley right behind him, and clambered over the wall with some difficulty. Jack couldn’t get away. He COULDN’T. He had been following Jack for so long. What would happen to the story?\n\nJack was getting away from him, though. Of course he had to chase a freerunner. Jack had trained for years for this exact situation. \nJack launched himself down a staircase, rolling to break his fall, and crossed the busy street, narrowly avoiding the speeding cars.\nHis mysterious pursuer quickly followed, leaping down the staircase and crossing into the street.\n\nA car came screaming down the street, directly at the pursuer. He leaped into the air, rolling over the hood and slamming, chest first, into the asphalt.\n\nCars screeched to a halt, and a small crowd gathered around him. He groaned, rolling over to his back. Jack! Where had Jack gone?\nHe couldn’t lose him now. He had come so far. Been undetected for so long. He had such a good STORY! And now his subject was gone.\nSomeone had called an ambulance, and paramedics lifted him onto a stretcher. Ow, that car fucking HURT. He was getting to old to chase kids around, especially the ones who jumped down stairs and vaulted walls. Fine, he would let this one go. Jack wasn’t even that interesting, anyway.\n\n“What is your name?” a paramedic asked.\n\n“R… Richard. My name is Richard.”\n\nThis new storytelling format wasn’t for him. He wanted to go back to writing fake stories, instead of quietly following people throughout their lives, writing down their successes, setbacks, dramatic relationships. It was all the rage now, but thinking on it, it was actually really creepy. Poor Jack was probably terrified. Richard was only trying to make a living.\n\nThe paramedics worked over him, checking for injuries. The ambulance was cramped. There were too many people in here.\n\n“Wait, who the hell are you!?” Richard asked the man squatting in the corner… Oh, fuck.\n" ]	3
All sexual desire in humans of any kind has disappeared. Every other desire is the exact same as it was before, however, e.g. The desire to sleep, eat, have companionship etc.	[WP] All sexual desire in the human race disappears one day. Tell me what the world is like 6 months later.	[ "\"You got the plan from one of their writers?\"\n\n\"From one of their science fiction writers, yes.\"\n\n\"Did you not see this as a flaw in the plan? That it was foreseeable to them?\"\n\n\"Quite the contrary. I can document well the ideas of the Earth critter's science fiction authors in coming up with clever ideas. I mean, who in the ultravioletgiver's Name would put a self-destruct mechanism on a ship, yet we would never have won the latest war against the Jovians without one.\"\n\n\"But we do agree that this plan, here, was a failure.\" \n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, I couldn't quite make out your answer. Please, will there be silence in the gallery! So then, Colonel, do you agree that your plan was a failure?\"\n\n\"I'm not an equivocator, Undersenator. I'm not going to empty a filter bladder on your cilia and tell you there's a dust storm. By the criteria that I set, the mission, at its 6 month milestone, has utterly failed to approach its goals.\"\n\n\"I understood that you expected riots by now.\"\n\n\"I'm not at liberty to disclose all our models, but all of them assumed that, by now, the eradication of the critter's capacity for \"lust,\" which is probably as close a translation to z%drel;du as can be managed, would have done...would have done something. And it's true that there have been vast economic shifts and wholesale changes to societal norms. But on a macro basis...\"\n\n\"But surely they're no longer breeding?\"\n\n\"No, they are. Our scientists were able to take away all sexual desire, but that sort of gonadal yearning is only a portion of the whole shebang. They still crave intimacy. They still want kids. They still compete for mates, for water's sake, more brazenly than before. They still generally pair up and get married in roughly the same gender configurations as previously.\"\n\n\"But how?\"\n\n\"The mechanics, as it were, have remained the same. The biological imperative is still there, just muddled.\"\n\n\"But if there's no pleasure to be found in it?\"\n\n\"Right, but they still understand it intellectually. They already had buildings, known as 'gyms,' that served an analogous purpose in their physical health before. Many are now including parts dedicated towards sex. Critter society looks and functions almost the same, if not improvedly, as in their high schools.\"\n\n\"So, then, Colonel, far from being a failure, you've managed to better their society. What do you say -\"\n\n\"- I'm not sure that I have. That's why I have trouble calling it an unmitigated failure. We thought crushing their sex drive would make their civilization aimless, pliable, and cause it to self-destruct in a wave of apathy-lead crashing birthrates, if nothing else. Instead, they've rationalized and adapted to it, as primates seem always wont to do. But at the same time, we've caused a grand experiment to take place. No one ever again will, as they say, get conceived in the back of a '57 Chevy. No one's going to get drunk and screw. Marriages might drop but infidelity will plummet. Lover's eyes will still meet across the room, but the decision to have sex is going to be important, but banal.\"\n\n\"All I'm hearing are ways you've improved things. Fewer jealous fights; fewer unwanted pregnancies.\"\n\n\"Yes, Undersenator, we've made it more serene, more sanguine, more rational. We've taken all the sort of weird accidents and unpredictability out of their sex. We've turned Earth into a massive experiment, where all the confusion and whoops about breeding is gone and what's left are each individual actor's criteria for what's best for their own progeny's betterment. We've seen how self-destructively they've dealt with eugenics in the past, in a few generations, how well will they sort it now that everyone's participating?\"", "It's been months. The worst part, the part that is the hardest to think about--I don't miss her all that much, if I'm being honest with myself. \n\nI didn't even know what happened, when it started. Little fights here and there. Work seemed more interesting, I stayed longer more often. I finally let myself spend time with my friends, the ones I knew before her. It wasn't until the company New Years party that we were all tired and drunk enough to talk about our sex lives that the truth came out. It wasn't just me. It was everyone. \n\nAlicia and I still made love every now and then, but I could tell she was feeling the same way, too, the way she tried so hard to make herself get into it the way we used to. It still felt good, and everything worked, but it wasn't the same. It didn't satisfy. Like scratching a spot on your arm that didn't itch.\n\nYou'd think things would change. And in a way, they have. The clubs are still full with people trying desperately to find someone they want to take home. The beer commercials have doubled down; they're practically softcore porn. Sexual harassment is on the rise, by all reports. Everyone knows they've lost something, and they are clamoring to reclaim it. I'm not sure anyone has.\n\nSome nations have dealt with this rather well. Mostly the kinds of places where prostitution is legal and protected. But the places with all the hang-ups about sex are on fire. The Middle East has never looked so bad. The crusade against homosexuality is burning brighter than ever, they're saying that somehow the gays have cursed everyone else with infertility. They hadn't, of course; Janice is three months pregnant now, but when the only tool you own is a whipping boy...\n\nI'm just thankful that Alicia and I split on peaceful terms. We'd been together for four years, but we didn't realize how central sex was to our relationship until it was basically gone. It...turns out we didn't really have all that much else in common. I still miss her, but I know she's happier with her sister. \n\nFor my part, work keeps me busy. Someone's gotta reinvent marketing in this crazy new world. We'll find something else that works.", "“Good evening, America. I’m Lauren Greene, and this is the evening political talk show ‘Everyone’s Opinions Matter.’ Our guests tonight include Ms. Klein, a leading businesswoman here to explain why men have no place continuing to push for equal pay for equal work.”\n\n“Let the free market decide what men are worth. Don’t get the government involved.”\n\n“Also tonight we have Sister Christian, a nun here to tell us God’s view of the recent lack of motivation in men. Also, she will tell us ‘what’s her price for flight.’”\n\n“I specifically requested no Night Ranger jokes, I had someone call ahead. You promised.”\n\n“And finally, we have a group of six women who have taken it upon themselves to bear children. We will ask about the difficulties they faced in conceiving.”\n\nSimultaneously “We’re not getting any younger.”\n\n“All this tonight, on EOM.” Cue music, roll intro credits.\n", "“Akirameru. That’s your problem”. \n \n“I am not suicidal.” His cheeks were pink in cold, his lips curled in frustration\n \n“You just haven’t reached there yet. Otherwise, I think you have given up life completely.”\n \n“No. What I am suggesting is that there is nothing worth living for. Look at this billboard. Your next child should have a gene coefficient score of 180. Do you think we would be looking at something like this six months ago?”\n \n“It’s still not bad as you think. Surrogacy has increased ofcourse, but not everyone is doing it. Look! Six months ago experts predicted an apocalypse. Everything is normal.”\n \n“There is an apocalypse. Our apocalypse is boredom.”\n \n“So you want people to run havoc all around rioting and pillaging?”\n \n“Why not? I can’t understand how people can be calm about it. Fuck this whole Zen Celibacy thing. It’s all mumbo jumbo.”\n \n“Asexuals have lived in this world before. On a grand scale, our lives mean nothing, whether we procreate or not it doesn’t make any difference. You know this more than anyone.” They were out of the alley now into a crowded market by the lake. They settled by the plastic seating rail colored in black and orange.\n \n“Did you read today’s newspaper... about the man from Minnesota?”\nShe blurted into laughter. He looked into her sky blue eyes as it reminded the days when they laid on the bed looking into each other. \n \n“You mean the guy who watched pornographic movies for five months straight and now claims that he finally has an erection.”\n \nHe fell silent.\n \n“You know how it is going to end up. Like every other nutcase in the world that claimed to have a libido. The media and government will waste time on him, and then his claims would be debunked. You used to be so sceptical, its funny and sad that now you are starting to believe.”\n \n“I like to think that one of them might be true.”\n \n“Who knows, maybe the Nigerian state is right when they claim that their country is unaffected by it”\n \nHe smiled, because he knew she was taking him on a ride. She grabbed her arm and kissed him on his lips. He felt nothing.\n \n“Its true that Nigeria is the only country to have a stable population in all this time. But that is because, there is an accusation against the regime of terrible crimes on women. Meanwhile studies across the world have been pretty much inconclusive. So there is still hope for you.”\n \nThis time she kissed him deeply. Her eyes were closed, and she pulled him towards her. He knew she was being passionate. But still nothing.\n \n“I gotta go. Don’t worry. You won’t find me when you come home today. Its our anniversary and like last year, you will have to hunt me down. And deliver your punishment on this naughty girl.” She made a baby face and then whispered.\n \n“Haven’t seen me on my new sexy underwear perchance, have you?.”\n \nShe gripped his arm and let it go. And then she walked back across the street. He looked at her for one last time. The strands of her hair flying in the wind, it is something he loves about her. He looked into the lake, the water was cold and sky blue.\n\nEDIT: Check /u/Lost_Madness comment. :(" ]	4
How will you survive your role in the play?	[WP] You are an actor, and you are to perform on stage in front of the strangest, craziest audience you could ever imagine.	[ "\"James, you're on in two but I gotta tell you somethin'\"\n\nJames looked up from his notes \"What?\"\n\n\"The crowd. They're... well, you've heard of tough crowds before, right?\"\n\n\"Look, I once played a prison in North Dakota and had to dress like a woman, so I know tough thanks.\"\n\n\"Well.. huh... I bet you were good. You've got nice cheekbones. But this is different. They're throwing things. Sharp things. Pointy things. They're booing everyone off the stage. It looks like a hockey game that broke out at a fight. It's weird. People swinging from the lights, sex acts everywhere. There are animals running wild. Someone's on a motorcycle just revving the engine and doing wheelies in the aisles. There's a guy with a hook who just took out the opening act. I've seen things out there that no one should see.\" then Lenny broke down shaking and crying.\n\nJames looked down. \"Don't you worry about me Lenny, I know just what to do.\"\n\nJames walked out to center stage and signaled for the curtains to be drawn.\n\nA hoot went up from the crowd and a barrage of objects flew toward the stage. James stood his ground and began his act.\n\n\"So, this guy walks in to a talent agents office and says \"I got this family act that I think you'd like.' Agent says, 'Why don't you tell me about it?\"", "\"Do you think your sins will stand?!\" the voice demanded from behind.\n\n\nDerek stumbled mentally, his line slipping away in confusion. He glanced over his shoulder. There was a man in sweat pants standing behind him. A couple others were trying to pull him off the stage.\n\n\n\"Um...\", he mentally found his place again, \"There's matter in these sighs. These profound heaves...\"\n\n\n\"Think thou to ignore me?! Your villainy may have undone the noble king Hamlet, but I, Queen Anne, have seen your treachery!\" he shook off one of the men who had made it onto the stage. \"I will not be held by your flunkies!\"\n\n\nThey two men managed to pull him off the stage and he was led out of the theater struggling and shouting.\n\n\n\"Queen Anne is an impostor! I, King Henry, am the true king!\" announced another sweat-pant clad man.\n\n\n\"This is a democracy! I should know! I'm the president!\" a second one pushed the first back into his seat.\n\n\nDerek ignored them and restarted his line. Hopefully the next time the owner got on a altruistic kick, he wouldn't populate the first two rows with madmen. ", "You know you need unique New York...\n\nI was reciting the lines frenetically, in a sort of hurried whisper that crackled out between my teeth. My diction was precise, my pronunciation — flawless.\n\nyou know, you need it -- you not!\n\nI heard the curtains being tugged, and then they spread open! I leapt onto the stage and burst into song. Conceited? Not me — it's just that I am what I am —\n\nI heard a bray of laughter from the audience. It nearly threw me off my game, but then the director's voice came loud and clear: Don't. Break. Character.\n\nI made my smile bigger, my gestures wider — and then I leapt forward, expecting to rise toward the ceiling as I had done a thousand times in rehearsal.\n\nExcept — this time nothing happened. I landed awkwardly on the balls of my feet, nearly fell over, lost a breath of air to recover, which left a strange glaring gap in the song. I heard more brays, and then a sort of hollow clomping — people were clapping at my folly!\n\nPanicked, I tried to look upward to the catwalk, but I couldn't see anything beneath the house lights. I warbled onward — it's just that I am what I... am... and I'm... me...\n\nIt was then that I realized that the braying I had heard wasn't laughter — it was actual neighs from the audience. They were fully equestrian — every audience member had four hooves, a long nose, a waving tail to chase off the flies. But they were fully enraptured by my performance, clomping, smashing their feet, chomping at their bits.\n\n\"What is this!\" I shouted, but then my nose jutted upward, and my back arched, my arms transformed into longer appendages and my fingers merged into black hooves.\n\n\"No — this is the wrong play!\" I yelled desperately to my co-stars, to the director, to anyone! \"That's in Pinocchio — AND YOU SAID THE LICENSING FEE WAS TOO EXPENSIVE!\"\n\nThey brayed louder, and then they stampeded the stage, climbing up, running across me, their tails brushing against me, their manes catching against mine —\n\nI was in the green room, and my stage manager was about to whack me across the face with a clipboard.\n\n\"WAKE UP!\" she said. \"You're on in thirty seconds!\"", "Professors can't prepare you for every situation; whether you're a scientist, a businessman, or an artistic-type like myself, there is always a curve ball that can be thrown in your direction that completely catches you off guard. I honestly never believed that could happen to me. \n \nOne time, early in my career, I was asked to perform at a 'club', of sorts. Turned out, it was just a bar full of drunken, horny, middle-aged men who wanted to watch a costumed girl strut around stage. I finished my monologue without missing a line or breaking a sweat, a feat some would call an accomplishment. I just called it another day as I bowed and walked off stage to the sound of whistles and applause, however vulgar the echoing comments may have been. \n \nA bit later, I made it on Broadway. Not off-Broadway, and not a huge role, but a part with enough lines that could take its toll on a first-time performer on such a grand stage. The theater was dark enough where the audience became just a bunch of random faces in the crowd, and I felt absolutely zero pressure from their stares and anticipation. As I leapt, glided, and danced flawlessly with a dozen others in tandem on stage, I felt nothing but joy and confidence. Again, it was another day to me, and one I had been prepared to undertake. \n \nFive years out of college and already my career had been going in the direction I had always dreamed; Broadway, and still more on the horizon. Then one day, I got a call from my old professor who wanted a favor of sorts. He wouldn't tell me what it was exactly; he just gave me an address and told me to bring my best, most creative, and most colorful solo performance. With a smile and fluttering anticipation, I accepted his request. \n \nThe night of the performance, I pulled up to the address given and headed toward the mystery performance. Ideas raced among swirling thoughts as to who my professor could have lined me up to perform for; a Hollywood director, a major casting director on Broadway, and even teaching opportunities at prestigious schools. All were possibilities, and so much more. Lost in myself, I paid no attention to my surroundings as I headed to where I was instructed to go once entering the building. \n \nBackstage, I met my professor alone behind a closed curtain and he helped me set everything up. As he spoke to me, asking me if I was ready for this type of crowd and responsibility, I responded confidently and without hesitation that I was ready for anything as some of his words fell upon selfishly deaf ears. Only after did I understand his look of confusion, since he knew this was something I never experienced prior. As he walked off to the side, I got in my first position, ready to entertain and impress. \n \nWhen the curtains opened, I lifted my head, opened my eyes, and was face to face with 100 of the cutest children sitting Indian-style gazing in my direction. There was no jeering from obnoxious men, no expectations from a seasoned crown, and no dimming of lights. Every innocent face in that crowd was staring at me, ready to be swept up in a performance that would transform that tiny gym stage into a new world of wonder and amazement. A single misstep could mean a crack in the illusion, disappointing the imagination and joy of these kids. As my heart jumped into my throat then down to my stomach, I glanced over to where my old professor was standing. As I did, he smiled and gave me a look that said, \"I'm not never done teaching you.\" And he was right. \n \nI learned a lot that night, but among them were two main lessons. The first, of course, was that I could never be prepared for every situation despite how talented or confident I thought I was. That was easily recognized as I messed up lines and positions, dances and props. The second, though, was a lesson in joy. My supposed failure of a performance, at the end, was met with excited screams and yells among applause and laughter from all of the children. Despite my many faults, they loved what I had done for them, and were caught up in the wonder that had first inspired me to do what I do. I remembered the joy I experienced from my first viewing of a professional, and how they gracefully and flawlessly performed...for me. Looking back, I wasn't thinking about whether they seemed clumsy, missed a line, or did everything perfectly. All I knew was that this person was doing what they loved for a living, and took the time to share that love with me. Somewhere along the way, I had lost a part of myself, even if it wasn't blatantly noticed through an ego or actions. Even through my supposed humility, my professor saw a way to help me grow and become a better person. I will never again forget why I do what I do, and who I do it for." ]	4
They tell you to start on reddit.	[WP] You are hired by Comcast to improve their reputation.	[ "What are you talking about? I have been working here on Reddit (not to mention Twitter and Facebook) for months. I already have dozens of puppet accounts that I use to downvote all those crappy stories about how we're not adequately kissing customer asses. Not to mention upvoting all those nice articles about how we are serving the community. The fact that you haven't noticed is evidence that I've been doing my job right.\n\nBy the way, did I mention that we have a new xfinity offer coming out? It not only includes internet and television, but also on-demand heroin and hookers. I'm serious. There's a little button on the cable box that you press, and hookers are guaranteed to knock on your door within 15 minutes or your money back. Pressing twice will cause them to bring heroin with them. \n\nI'm sure you'll be hooked.\n\nThis offer is available for a limited time only at $199 per month, for the first three months. So act now.", "\"If I am going to do this, I've got to be able to do whatever I think is right, no matter how extreme\".\n\n\"We understand, Mr. Case. The situation is dire, you simply name your price.\"\n\n\"I just did.\"\n\nCase moved into his new apartment in the most Google-priced neighborhood he could find in San Francisco. 17.5k a month in rent, well before utilities, and before he had a chance to go shopping for drapes.\n\nHaving already been given access to all the various databases within Comcast, Case worked on his ThinkPad while sitting crosslegged on the floor while occasionally looking up to stare at the white that made up his front door for a moments rest. Finally, after committing to a course there was pulling back from, he did rest - feeling as if the events of next few weeks had already transpired.\n\nDay 1 - Highlight Reel\n\n\n\"You want to do want!?\", asked Donna, the assistant assigned to new head reputation guy. \"You heard me, all six of them, here tomorrow.\" \n\n\"I don't think I can get them here in that time, sir...\" \n\n\"Listen, Donna, I know you're he...\"\n\n\"I've been here 4 years sir, I'd hardly call myself new\"\n\n\"...as I was saying, I know you are knew here, as I am new, and this all new. Now, fly them first class if needed - but I want them here. Tomorrow. Got it?\"\n\n\"Yes sir\" Donna replied, and walked passed the Coca-Cola machine she had walked by a million times when she left the employee break room... \n", "I rolled over in bed. It was already late in the afternoon and my nightstand was buzzing.\n\nPulling open its drawer, I reached for my phone. Once in hand, the screen showed 99+ missed calls, an untold number of texts, and whoever it was that my phone had just routed to voice mail was calling again. \n\n\"That's odd,\" I thought while placing the phone back in its drawer. \"I'm not that important.\"\n\nMid-stride, on the way to the bathroom, events from the previous night freeze my steps. \n\n\"There's no way.\" I laugh off the thought and continue toward my throne. \n\nAfter a moment alone I notice, for the first time, that I can hear my phone vibrating all the way from my porcelain La-Z Boy. \n\nA lot of effort had gone in to planning the night before. It had been a big week for me. My company had received its first serious order. When I started this company, they laughed. They all laughed, in fact. \n\n\"No one is going to buy a platinum, gem-encrusted dildo.\" They had told me.\n\n\"The number of people who exist in the market for platinum dildos can be counted on one hand.\" My wife said before she left. \"No one will buy it.\"\n\nWhen we filled our first, and only, order no one laughed. For years I had attended flea markets, trade shows, fetish exhibits. I even appealed to some of the more affluent Saudi Princes, sending them demos. I never received a call back, no one ever made a purchase. Finally, my work had payed off.\n\nEarlier this week I shipped an order for 30,000 platinum, gem-encrusted dildos. Yesterday, the check reached my bank account. The celebration required limousines, champagne, music, people - things I had not enjoyed in a very long time. \n\nAfter finishing my morning ritual I found a comfortable space on my couch. This was the couch of a rich man now. It's like I always said, \"Why work to find 10,000 people who will give you $100 a year when you should be looking for 1 person who will give you $1,000,000.\" \n\nGranted, that strategy had never worked when I was younger. Selling $15 pitchers of lemonade while the other neighbor kids sold $.50 glasses had seemed like such a mugs game. It's like my mother had always said, \"Pick an idea and stick with it.\" I knew my dildos would sell. I proved everyone wrong.\n\nI turned on my rich man's television to find out what was going on in the world. I had been a slave to the news last week. This week I was, again, a rich man and would not be subjected to the whims of other, more newsworthy, individuals. Platinum dildos had given me my sovereignty from money and world economics. Today I viewed the world with new eyes.\n\n\"- In what appears to be a Hail Mary PR stunt.\" I changed the channel. There was no time for the stunts of lesser mortals. I wanted news of my fellow paragons of the human spirit. Show me, television, what workings have my fellow titans of entrepreneurial fortitude put in play today. \n\n\"Jim, children are crying. Today, an entire generation of latch-key kids came home to boxes left on their doorstep. Unknown to them, the contents -\" stupid words. Too many words. My time was valuable now. I did not have time to wallow in the muck with laymen. Perhaps a more sophisticated station...\n\n\"Dildos Kathy. Platinum. Gem-encrusted. Dildos.\" The reporter on the television was holding my shiny, chrome phallus of liberation up for the entire world to behold. \"A representative from Comcast was available for questioning.\"\n\n\"Well, what we have here is our new 'Customer Focused' initiative.\" The screen had cut to a pre-recorded interview of a man who had clearly been stopped in the street by reporters. \"When Comcast looked back on our historic data we wanted to answer the question of 'What do our customers truly want?'\" He beamed a frozen corporate smile just long enough to make you wonder if it was genuine. \n\n\"The results were overwhelming.\" He continued, \"Time and time again our customers end calls with our representatives and request that next time they deal with Comcast we make it easier us to fuck them.\"", "I arrive at the first day on the job and look around, I know I've bs'ed my way into lots of jobs before but I know I hit the jackpot this time. If it weren't for the ridiculous salary I negociated with HR I wouldn't be here right now, hell in two months I'll be driving a Porche and living in a mansion! \n\nI look around at the lifeless monkeys that work in my new office and smile to myself, this is going to be easy. All I need to do is convince the company I have improved their reputation and I'll just keep rolling in the dough. My real work is going to be done at night while I use botnets to spam Comcast with whatever I want them to believe the public thinks about their company. Nothing too fast too soon, slowly...very slowly I'll make them think they have customers who actually like their service and like being told to f*** off.\n\nThey call me...the wolf of Comcast...", "I let the bloody gloves fall to the floor as I gazed around the Comcast board room. All of their faces, frozen in shock and fear. After all people don't normally go on killing sprees on the first day. But they had asked me to improve their image. So I killed all the high level executives who had ruined it in the first place. \n\nWell almost all of them. The CEO of Comcast, Mr. Roberts was still alive. He was going to suffer a long long time. Still not as long and as painful as dealing with Comcast, I wasn't that cruel.", "\"Almost done for the day, Mr. Anderson.\" I looked back over my shoulder at my boss and flashed him a corporate grin.\n\n\"Great, it's been a long one!\" He smiled back at me as he spun around to head back to his office. This gig wasn't as terrible as I had first figured. Comcast, the cable/entertainment/media/lobbying giant, had recruited me to help them clean up their image. I can't say I was entirely convinced about the position based on the interview, but here I was, fielding endless complaints with ever increasing efficiency. It was overwhelming at first, all the comments on /r/Comcast streaming down in real time, threatening to choke my monitor, but after a few weeks, I had gotten the hang of it.\n\nI was a natural, it seemed. Shelley, two cubes down, was barely handling her quota even with all the unpaid overtime, and Lars... well, Lars was soon to be fired. He was constantly on /r/Awww and /r/MildlyInteresting. I wasn't sure they monitored our computers, but Mr. Smith had confided in me on an after-work stroll to the elevators, after saying he was confident that I was the one they had been looking for. Whatever. I knew so little about my coworkers they may as well have been robots, so if Shelley, Lars, hell, the whole department got fired, it was no skin off my back.\n\nI continued closing support tickets one after another, looking at the clock occasionally. I think the clock was slowed down, or something, because it looked like the clock would skip back a couple seconds every now and then, but every office worker feels that way as the minute hand creeps towards the 12 just before quitting time. My mind wandered, as it had done with increasing frequency since I signed up, back to the interview and the odd way it had been conducted. The guy doing the interview hadn't seemed very professional, what with his armless sunglasses and leather trench coat. Even weirder than that, though, was the choice at the end. I'd thought about it many times afterwards, and I still wonder, and probably always will: what would have happened if I had picked the red pill?", "Sweat dripped down my chest, pooling in the thick curls between my heaving breasts. With every thrust, a few drops would fly free, tumbling in the air towards its waiting target. A feeble moan followed every splash of pungent, masculine froth, as my cock, the lube, and the tumbling beads of sweat would mix. Alexis had always wanted my cock, but those feeble moans and those quivering legs betrayed the pain and difficulty of handling my massive manhood. I decided to go easy. Pulling my throbbing cock free from Alexis's red gaping hole, I ordered the slut down to the knees, pushing my sweat slicked balls into a waiting mouth. My meat covered most of the slut's face, and between long, purposeful strokes I lifted my massive man hunk and let it fall with a dull thud on the slut's cheek. As I built towards orgasm, I yelled down to my submissive fuck toy: \"so you're going to get your mods in line, right? No more anti-Comcast propaganda?\" The slut moaned \"anything for you.\" I sprayed a huge load on the smiling slut's face. \"Just remember who fucks who,\" I said as I zipped up my slacks and stuffed one of my socks into the slut's mouth. \"Here, keep it. You've earned it.\"\n\nAlexis moaned in rapture, then gently removed the sock and slipped it into his pocket. \"When will you be back?\" Alexis Ohanion asked me. \"Whenever I want,\" I replied with a smirk. I strode through the halls of Reddit's Executive office wing with one less sock, and one less liability for my generous employer. Stopping at the front desk on my way out, I gave a sly grin to the secretary. \"The Triple Play is back! Only $99.99 for tv, phone, and XFinity broadband! Here's my card, darling.\" She'll call. They always do.", "\"You want me to what?\" I asked, imposing a calm and rational expression onto my face.\n\n\"We have it on good authority that you're the man for the job, sir. We thought you could, ah, offer your expertise in this matter. We do of course have much to offer, in the way of stock options, extensive healthcare plans, not to mention a very large annual salary--\"\n\n\"&#3232;_&#3232;\"\n\n\"I, uh... what?\" The portly Comcast representative at my doorstep was at a loss. \"I, didn't, um, quite catch that--\"\n\n\"What is wrong with you people? Do you actually think your products help people? Do you imagine that your tech support team does anything other than remotely molest your clients? Do you even--\" By this point I was raising my voice, and I began to notice Ms. Clarke at the edge of my peripheral vision glaring at me. It was, after all, broad daylight, and some of us (ahem) have armies of cats at their disposal. Better be on the safe side.\n\n\"Sir, sir, please, we know. Comcast doesn't have the very best of reputations, we know, and--\" \n\"You are literally the worst telecom company in the U.S. right now. Probably the worst in the world.\" \n\"Yes, sir, and that's were you come in.\" \n\"What, you need me to tell you how bad you are? And you'll pay me for it?\" \n\"Respectfully sir, what, in your opinion, makes us so bad?\" \n\"&#3232;_&#3232;\" \n\"Uh...\" \n\"Your prices are ridiculous. Not in the regular, \"ooh-look-at-me-I'm-bartering\" sense, in the sense that it doesn't cost you even a fraction of what you charge.\" \n\"Okay...\" \n\"No, shut up. Not only that, but you effectively have a monopoly, meaning that you're focing people to give you money for goods and services that, for all the bullshit price tags and hidden costs and fees, don't actually work. Ever.\" \n\"Alright...\" \n\"Shut the fuck up. Then, when your shittiness just gets too fucking much, you invariably end up waiting hours (sometimes days) for tech support to actually pick up, then several hours (or days) more getting yourself passed around employees like the company whore, and then, when everything's nice and dry, they \"accidentally\" charge you for shit you never got from them. This is where you go back to the cycle, to get strapped to a table and molested using massive, horse-sized rubber dildos.\" \n\"I, um...\" \n\"That's why your company sucks. That's what everyone says about you.\" \n\"That was very graphic.\" \n\"You know what's graphic? The way my butt is still sore from the numerous times Comcast raped me. That's graphic.\"\n\nThe heavy set man looked me over searchingly; after a few moments, he seemed satified.\n\n\"What?\" \n\"And how would you do it, sir?\" \n\"Do what? Stare seductively at someone?\" \n\"What would you change about Comcast? How can you improve our reputation?\"\n\nI narrowed my eyes thoughtfully, looking into the distance.\n\n\"Well,\" I said slowly, \"that would be easy. For starters, I'd need--\" My eyes widened suddenly. \"Oh!\"\n\nHe grinned at my expression. \"Sir, I've been instructed to tell you that your company-issued custom-made Hennessey Venom GT is very lonely, sitting there in the private parking lot all on its own.\"\n\n\"This...hmm. This might not be such a bad job after all.\"\n\n\"I've also been instructed to take you directly to your office.\" He beckonned invitingly to the nondescript Comcast van. He drove to get there. Come to think of it, those things don't look so bad, when you see them from the right angle.\n\n\"You know what? I accept.\" \n\"You what?\" \n\"I say yes. You're hiring me!\" \n\"Oh, of course. But who said you had a choice?\"\n\nHe looked at me seriously for all of two seconds before he burst out laughing. \n\n\"Heh. Funny, that,\" I muttered to myself. \"When do I start?\"\n\n\"Oh. Right. Hold on one second!\" He scurried to his van, rumaged around in it for a few seconds, and came all but running back, panting and sweaty, holding a shoebox with the Comcast logo on the top.\n\n\"What's this?\" I asked, taking the box from his outstreched, straining fingers. I gasped when I took the box. It was surprisingly heavy.\n\n\"I don't know, sir,\" He panted, wiping his face on some spaghetti he pulled out of his pocket. \"It's for you not for me.\"\n\n\"Well, what do I do with this?\" I asked. I looked down at the box nestled in my arms. When I looked up again, he was gone. Dammit, Comcast, I thought. You just had to hire freaking Batman for this, didn't you? \nI sighed, and went back inside my home, somehow managing to both close and lock the front door using only my feet and elbows. As I cleared some junk off my coffee table, and set it down onto it, it suddenly began glowing around the edges, in a sort of ethereal way. It settled down when I grasped the lid, and lifted it off the shoebox, careful not to touch it in any way, lest I be cursed with the wails of disgruntled Comcast customers for the rest of my mortal existence. Out of the box, I carefully lifted out a surprisingly heavy stack of papers. The first page was blank, save for a criptic inscription in wingdings in the center of the page, inked in the blood of orphans.\"\n\nThus my journey begins.", "They stared at him like a bunch of wolves seeing an injured deer limping through forest, but that hollow soul sucking sound of dead silence that matched the eyes of the ceo was what made him wonder if he had made a deal with the devil themselves. \n\nHe had been a specialist in recovering lost reputation for as long as he cared to remember. He knew all the social media ins and outs, the usual suspects including the previously not well known to these, jackals, website called Reddit. They thought those websites including Reddit would fix it for them, they had no idea of the truth. The sites were all very clear on one thing, they had a lot to answer for but the shakes from sobering up after seeing the uncensored customer ratings and reviews initiated drinking binge felt like they were the reason everyone was staring at him. He had read the uncensored things some customers had written, they gave him nightmares until he drank himself into a stupor that led to him losing at least three days, likely a week he was still in a fog from the after effects the enormous amount of alcohol did to his memory and the rest of his mind. \n\n\"So?\" The ceo asked, why did his voice sound like death calling his name?\n\n\"Gentlemen and ladies I have a solution that will likely gain your lost reputation back.\" The specialist said. \"Guaranteed to do it within seconds.\"\n\n\"What is it?\" The ceo asked noting the specialist was edging towards the door rather quickly.\n\n\"Well you will need to hijack all of your broadcast channels.\" The specialist said. \"Just for about, ten minutes maybe.\"\n\n\"We can do an hour.\" The ceo said, that sound of feeding off his soul was making the specialist edgy.\n\n\"Ten minutes will be enough.\" The specialist said trying to keep the nagging impulse to just run out of his voice and body language.\n\n\"Fine what do we do then?\" The ceo asked.\n\n\"Well it is largely up to each of you, all of you will need to be there especially your marketing, accounting and customer service heads.\" The specialist said dead eyes from the marketing head, a greedy need for more from the accounting head, the marketing guy, itchy, oily, slippery but hollow so very hollow.\n\n\"Spit it out man.\" The ceo said as the specialist opened the door slightly.\n\n\"You are not going to like it.\" The specialist said he couldn't stop the nervous tremble from getting into his voice this time.\n\n\"Anything to fix this mess.\" The ceo said and was supported by choruses from the rest of the sitting persons, it sounded like, evil was fully manifested in each one, that hollowness became more evident in each one now.\n\n\"Public suicide all of you, after the executions of your heads of marketing, accounting and customer service.\" The specialist said as he threw open the door fully ready to bolt for the door that he knew was fifteen running strides away and his freedom from this nightmare. \"The messier and more depraved the better, ladies sorry.\"\n\nThe specialist turned to run expecting what he thought would be his own lynch mob to be right on him but there was no noise at all. Morbidly curious he turned and looked, they were looking at each other as if he suggested something very bland and very easy for them to accomplish.\nWhen he heard the reply he just left mumbling payment due by business days' end as the shock came over him.\n\nThat was three days before the day that everyone else in the world learned one very simple rule, at their end of resources and will a person or persons will do anything. He had been in the psych ward of some hospital he didn't know existed by the time the booze wore off and his shattered mind that couldn't cope with what those people were willing to do just to win again became aware of the world outside the fractures. He was named a hero by former customers and he was now an anonymous mental patient somewhere far from where he had ended his former life. The ironic, very dark humor in it made him break out into hysterical laughter, drawing the orderlies to him making ready to get him out of the day room before he set off the others.", "Day one has arrived. After stepping out of the shower, I looked in the mirror. \"You're going to change the face of this business. They all love you. Show them why!\" I said to myself in my best motivational speak tone. I've been trained by many self-help gurus and top notch salesmen, I was fairly sure I could do this. I put on my best suit, checked the mirror again, and started walking to the door. My old dog, jack, was on the couch snoozing away. \"Later Jack, I'm off to change the face of Comcast!\" I yelled. Jack jerked up, started, and I giggled a bit. \"Hey fuck you, pal! I was asleep! Get the fuck outta here and go do whatever stupid shit you was just talkin' about!!\". I nodded at him, grabbed my hat, and stepped out the door...", "It's my first day at my new job. Comcast hired me to be their new marketing manager. First things first, a meeting with Janet, my boss. During the meeting, Janet goes over all the recent problems and poorly implemented solutions. She also explains what is expected of me. After being shown everything, Janet turns to me and asks, \"So, what do you think?\". My response: \"You're fucked. Comcast is the worst run company I've ever seen. I quit.\"\nSo, I guess technically, this is my last day at my old job.", "\"Get him on the phone! Get that asshole on the phone now!\"\n\n\"I'm right here, be there in a minute.\" I shouted back. His reaction meant he'd read my comprehensive report and had chosen one of the plans of action I'd laid out as the best hope for reviving Comcast's image. For some reason he didn't sound happy. I shrugged and turned my efforts back to buxom secretary who kept smiling despite my sorry attempts to woo her. \"So, about lunch. I'm probably gonna be free in about five, maybe ten minutes, and I know this sushi place...\" \n\n\"Get your ass now! You crook! I want my money back! Every dime! This is utter bullshit!\" \n\nI smiled again at the secretary, then walked into the CEOs office and plopped down into the leather chair in front of desk. \n\n\"I'm beginning to get the impression you have an issue with my suggestions?\" I asked innocently. \n\n\"Have a problem? Have a problem? Are you kidding? This is a joke. I'll sue you for breach of contract.\"\n\n\"Whoa there buddy. Those are all valid suggestions, just because you don't like them doesn't make them bad.\" \n\n\"I don't like them? You suggested that we lock our customer service reps in stockades and let people pummel them with rancid fruit. You suggested that we offer the best internet package available for no cost for every internet issue we can't fix in twenty four hours!\"\n\n\"Wait, what's wrong with that one? Good service for bad service.\"\n\n\"You suggested we pay for it from a competitor.\" He howled. \n\n\"Who would still want Comcast if it goes down all the time?\"\n\n\"And where are the reddit suggestions?\" \n\n\"Page eleven, after the summary. Did you not see it?\" I stood up and reached forward flipping to page eleven. Under the 16-point font with the 'Reddit' in red, was one sentence that he read now, spitting the words: \"Leave those good people alone.\"\n\nI smiled at him and sat back down. I could tell he wanted to throw something at me but nothing on his desk was heavy enough. \n\n\"Anything else?\" I asked, a lilt in my voice.\n\nHis face started at red and went to purple, and he furiously flipped through pages backwards. \"Page forty seven! Pay customer's who cancel our service a hundred dollars a day for every day we don't turn their service off after the cancellation request.\" \n\n\"Think of the confidence it inspires.\"\n\n\"You suggested that we change the name to 'We're a bunch of crooks, don't do business with us' and we sell the rights to the name Comcast to child pornographers.\" \n\n\"That last one is wrong. I checked and right now, you might have to give them something to take it off your hands.\" I gave him a weak shrug. \n\n\"I'm cancelling your consulting contract!\" He screamed at the top of lungs, then calmed himself and looked me in my eye. \"Effective immediately. I don't need any revisions. Get out of my office right now.\" \n\nI looked at him quizzically, pulled out my smartphone and tapped a few icons. \"Oh, um, my records say your account is still active. Contract requires you return all the equipment in the original packaging, unopened, to my office at the South Pole. Let me give you the number to my customer support people, do you speak Igbo?\" ", "The heater continued its silent hum as it does its honest duty of heating the room. The strong winter breeze outside continues to bash against the window of the living room, creating only a faint distinct whisper.\n\nAs I sat at my chair, I sip my coffee and take a deep breathe. Being hired by Comcast was a tough job as the company gained a notorious reputation for being one of the worst ISPs in America. I turned on my Macbook Air and waited for it to complete its booting process. I wait patiently, listening to the faint whisper of the wind as it continues bashing my window.\n\nI typed in my username/password at this website they call \"Reddit\". My first job is to promote my company and improve its reputation by shilling. It's not such a bad job compared to my previous jobs as I'm a freelancer shill - willing to take any shilling job for any company in exchange for money. Shilling is a tricky job although once you figure out the right spot, the predisposition of the customers towards the company will slowly become positive. Just like fingering a woman with sensual care - slow, gentle, and just right on the spot.\n\nHowever, as I browsed the posts in the subreddit /r/technology that concerns Comcast, this job became tougher. I see the complaints of the various Redditors expressing their agony, sorrow, anger, bewilderment, and disgust towards Comcast. Normally, as a shill, I shouldn't really care about these opinions. I just do my job and that's it. However, this time it's different.\n\nI continued to read the complaints and after a while I've had it. Nothing can ever liberate Comcast's tarnished reputation. This shilling would only cause more suffering for others. My moral compass is going wild.\n\nI take a deep breath, I stood up, and closed my eyes. At the back of my mind I can hear the scream of Freedom Eagle, telling me to not shill for Comcast, while at the other end I can hear the voices of shekels falling down from Comcast's vault. Finally, I made the decision.\n\nThese Redditors are just like the wind - complaining every time but yet never making a single dent on Comcast's impenetrable window. And I'm about to become a part of that window. But no, I won't be, and I would be a true patriot to my fellow Americans. \n\nI gather my Macbook Air and closed it. I stood in front of the window. The window is now rattling as the wind continues to try and break it. I close my eyes and I hear the patriotic American song with the Freedom Eagle gloriously soaring the sky. I take a deep breath, and I threw my Macbook Air towards the window.\n\nThe window broke and the cold wind invaded my room. I feel the breeze of it and I embrace it. As I stand in a \"Praise The Sun\" position, I muttered, \"Glory to America's freedom!\".", "Hello Reddit Users, \n\nThanks for stopping by my epic post (sorry, just trolling!). My name is Howard and I’m a Comcast representative. Whoa, hang on there Scumbag Steve. Before you attack me, I just want to be the first to share some great news with you folks here at Reddit.com, one of my favorite Internet websites. \n\nYou see, we’ve undergone a lot of changes at Comcast, a lot of updates to our core system and our beliefs. We here at Comcast have really been focusing on becoming the Good Guy Greg we know we can be (that’s a meme for you parents out there!). We hope you take a moment to read about how we’re working to better serve you as our customer and our friend.\n\nI’d like to start off by addressing some concerns. We’re not dumb here at Comcast, we know that we don’t exactly have the best “rep.” We know that we may have ranked lower than literally every other company in the United States in a recent poll, and we are aware that our live support has been compared to sawing off one’s limbs using a sharpened hamburger. That’s why I’m here, that’s what brings me to the Internet today: we’ve been working hard to fix what needed mending, and I’d like to let you guys know what we’re doing to become the company you want us to be.\n\nFor starters, Comcast has completely revamped its phone support line. No longer are convicted violent offense criminals our trusted phone operators. Instead, we’ve made the positive switch to using those simply convicted of the lesser crimes of bank fraud and identity theft. As you know, most of these convicts tend to be quite tech savvy, having gone to great efforts to steal your money and ruin your credit history. What this means is that our newly-deemed Happiness Coordinators will now be familiar with not only your XFINITY Triple Play bundle, but also with all the great Internet memes we’re all so fond of (I personally love the doge memes and le troll face).\n\nNext, we took a look at our chat support. Previously, all responses were selected from an admittedly lackluster list of three options: “Please restart your computer,” “Please restart your television,” and “Please go fuck yourself.” We realize that list didn’t really apply to absolutely all issues, just the majority. Therefore, we’ve updated our database to include almost a dozen more phrases, including: “Please try reconnecting to the Internet,” “Please restart your computer,” and “Please kindly go fuck yourself.” In fact, we were so excited about our new chat support system that we’ve already set it live. Here is an excerpt from a customer who just had her question answered mere seconds ago:\n\n>Tammy: Hello, my television is only displaying static.\n\n>Comcast Representative: Please restart your computer.\n\n>Tammy: But it’s my television…\n\n>Comcast Representative: Please restart your television.\n\n>Tammy: That didn’t work.\n\n>Comcast Representative: Please kindly go fuck yourself.\n\n>Tammy: Oh! That worked. Thank you so much!\n\nAs you can see, we’re getting better results quicker with our new customer support tools.\n\nOf course, we didn’t just stop there. We know that our support line wasn’t the only issue with the business recently titled “The Worst Company in America.” No, to further address concerns, we’ve completely revamped our most popular product bundle: The XFINITY Triple Play package. \n\nPreviously, our customers were faced with frustratingly slow download speeds, unfairly expensive television channels, and heavily throttled Internet during peak hours. That was unacceptable, detestable even—I’ll be the first to admit it. Yet I’m glad to say we’ve addressed this concern and have taken huge steps to make the product not only fairer, but—if I do say myself—much more fun. In fact, today we are announcing the immediate cancellation of the XFINITY Triple Play package. Instead, all customers will be transitioned over to our new Island Vacation Power Bundle. \n\nPreviously, our now-defunct XFINITY Triple Play package had an intimidating name: the X tended to scare off some people, with the capital letters making it seem as though we were screaming. Of course, we at Comcast now realize it’s not right to yell at our customers, and therefore have adjusted the name accordingly. Following a brief focus group in which we researched relaxing, comforting terms, the words “Island,” “Vacation,” and “Power” were all approved as comforting and relaxing, while showing our superiority over the competition. As such, the Island Vacation Power Bundle was released.\n\n “But what’s included in the Island Vacation Power Bundle,” you ask? \n\nWell, it will be the same products you know and love, with one major improvement: it is no longer called XFINITY Triple Play. It is the exact same service, with the same exact speeds and prices, except now includes a wonderful, soothing name. For those of you out there that fear change, that find yourself uncomfortable having to look back into researching those huge, daunting download speeds of “2mpbs” and “1.3mbps” (who even cares what “mbps” is?! It’s just a bunch of nerd mumbo-jumbo that you need not worry yourself with), fear not. Everything remains exactly the same, save for the wonderful new name.\n\nSo there you have it. After a lot of research and development, we here at Comcast are proud to say that we’ve taken major steps to address our issues, so as to become the company you and your business need. No longer are our phone lines run by convicts; no longer does our chat support system operate through just three pre-written lines; no longer are our customers intimidated by our product names. Comcast has changed at a fundamental level, updated its core values and put you—our customer—back in the forefront. We’re now better than ever and ready to help you and your business connect the way you should.\n\nQuestions? Concerns? Feel free to reach out to me directly between the hours of 3:49am and 3:50am. My address is available on the Comcast website and I only operate through handwritten correspondence sent through the United States Postal Service. Please allow for a 1 to 3,000 day delay in responses.\n\nThere will be a required one-time cancellation fee of $199.99 for all accounts migrating from the XFINITY Triple Play package to the new Island Vacation Power Bundle. This is non-negotiable.\n\n____________________\n\n^If ^you ^enjoy ^my ^writing ^style, ^feel ^free ^to ^check ^out ^some ^of ^my ^other ^short ^stories [^in ^my ^new ^subreddit](http://www.reddit.com/r/ChokingVictimWrites/) ^or [^on ^my ^website!](http://wordsontheinternet.org/)\n\n" ]	14
	[WP] As a burglar is entering a rich man house, he discover Santa Claus already there stealing	[ "A noise.\nA shuffle.\nThere was movement in the next room.\n\n The man had spent months preparing for this night, countless hours going over even the most minute of details. The first month alone had been spent finding the perfect mark. It was large, richly decorated, ostentatious really. No neighbors within sight, only one occupant: just one variable to track. And so the man watched. And watched. And he prepared.\n\n This was not his first job, nor his twenty-first. If asked, he could not have readily given a count of past jobs. The watching, the waiting, the preparation, it all blended together after a time: only the smallest details remained to distinguish one from the next. The mud to the left of the drive would hold his tracks, the south-east wall was missing a floodlight, the basement had a small window just big enough for a 5'3\" 157lb man to fit through. And yet, even as the years slowly ran together, he never lost his edge. Each job was given the utmost care, planned with a precision unparalleled by others in his profession. Never once did he make a mistake. Until tonight. Tonight, there was someone else in the house. \n\n After the choosing began the watching. The first few days were spent car shopping. The man never went to the same dealer twice, never gave the same name, and never bought the car. Test driving. A new car every day to watch the house in, sometimes in drive-bys, sometimes in a stakeout. Once he even broke down not a hundred feet down the road and spent the entire day trying to repair the car. By that day's end he knew every nook and cranny of the road side of the house. More importantly, he had discovered the resident's schedule. It was time to take to the night.\n\n At 21:30, the last light went out. He was on the property at 23:00, with exactly 6 hours and 48 minutes until the sky would begin to lighten. In the darkness, the true reconnaissance began. On foot, he circled the house in ever decreasing circles. Trees around the house provided the cover as he marked the anti-burglary measures. Floodlights on the corners. A camera at each entrance. A night-vision scope showed the tell-tale sign of sensors on the windows. This would not be the easiest of marks. A few hours and the man was confident of the scope of the house's external security. The next three were used checking for the best sight lines, the most efficient locations for his toys. Already, the leaves had started to fall. The foliage would not hinder his views. The next night he would return, this time with the best equipment his many past payouts would buy. \n\n\nI know I've only just touched on the prompt. But this is my first time writing and I wanted to check feedback before continuing. Please, any constructive criticism would be appreciated. More to follow if I've gotten your attention." ]	1
	[WP] ~/~ "There must have been dark magic in that old, silk hat they found. For when they placed it on his head he...." ~/~	[ "There must have been dark magic in that old, silk hat they found, for when they placed it on his head he twitched. Then he twitched his spindly, wooden arm again. His stone eyes began to glow red hot, and he opened his jaws. He opened them so wide, and roared in the way only evil snowmen with dark magic hats can roar. The children screamed and ran, but it pursued them.\n\n\"Wait!\" the oldest boy said as he pulled a lighter out of his pocket. The frozen beast yielded to the warm flame, but continued to let out terrifying sounds. As the brave lad held the monster at bay, his friends escaped to their homes.\n\n\"Looks like we're alone now!\" The creature bellowed. The boy's face morphed worth fear, as he discovered this snow monster could speak. \"You think that puny flame can hold me back?\" It grabbed the lighter, then threw it a few hundred yards. The brave boy had one more trick up his sleeve.\n\n\"You're such a weak snowman.\" This took the beast by surprise. It whimpered, then began shedding frozen tears.\n\n\"There, there,\" the boy said as he hugged the snowman and patted its cold head. After a moment, the boy was sure the snowman was fooled. Ever so gently he lifted its hat off its head, leaving the creature frozen in place.\n\nWhen the boy knocked on the door, the children were reluctant to answer. After a moment of arguing about who would go, they heard a familiar voice.\n\n\"It's me, Wilson!\"\n\nThe oldest girl smiled, and jumped up, but her friend grabbed her arm.\n\n\"What if the snowman is making him say that so it can get all of us?\" The eldest girl hesitated, then looked at the door.\n\n\"I've got its hat,\" the lad called. \"It's just me.\" He walked over to a window, tapped, and displayed the silk diadem. The children allowed him in, and they all sat around the fire as the boy related his story.\n\nWhen the lad finished, they all agreed to burn the hat. They threw it into the hearth, and watched the evil vanish.", "There must have been dark magic in that old silk hat, they found. For when they placed it onto his head, the amalgamation of frost and ice roared to life.\n\n\"I AM FROST-EE!\" the being of black magic and snow screamed, sending ice shards flying, \"One of the 7 great Old Ones!\"\n\n\"Shoot it! Shoot it!\" the gangsters had yelled. They knew there was powerful magic in that top hat, but nothing like this...\n\nShrugging off the hail of automatic gunfire, a scythe of cold ice swiped through the mafiosos like a hot knife through butter. So much for their plans of world domination...\n\nPunching a hole through the hideout and stumbling out onto the streets, he was spotted by the SWAT team that was about to raid the building.\n\n\"Sir!\" an agent frantically yelled into his earpiece as the frost monster tore through his comrades, \"The Old One's been awakened! I repeat, the Old One's been-\"\n\nHe was interrupted by a claw of ice punching through his ribcage.\n\n\"Damnit, Harding...\" the operator put a hand on his forehead. Another man lost...\n\n\"You,\" he jabbed a finger at a communications officer, \"Get Hinkle on the line. He's got work to do...\"\n\nThe Rock stars in...\n\nFrosty the Snowman: The Reboot" ]	2
I'm talking tolkien elves, or DnD elves, not christmas elves. Have fun.	[WP] After a thousand years, elves come out of hiding, and bring magic into the modern world. How has life changed for the average person?	[ "\"A thousand years,\" croaked an old man, \"one thousand years of persecution. One thousand years of segregation from our lands.\"\n\nThe elves fastened their gaze to their village elder, an elf of two hundred and ten years of age. His eyes glassy and hair white as snow. His pointed ears have folded with age and face lean.\n\n\"Tonight,\" his voice boomed inside the empty warehouse, \"tonight, my brothers and sisters we reveal ourselves once again to the humans.\"\n\nA younger elf towards the back of the crowd chuckled to himself. There was no possible way humans would ever accept their kind. The human's compensated for their lack of magic with technology. What place could the elves have in the modern world with their magic?\n\n\"And now, a representative from the human territory known as The United States.\" The elder braced himself with his cane and sat. A few moments passed before a young man of twenty years stood. Immediately, the elves know who he was: the half blood.\n\nThe half blood approached approached the podium and hushed whispers erupted amongst the elves. The man looked anemic and short. A few in the crowd began laughing. This was the half blood? A boy?\n\nThe half blood shuffled his papers at the podium. His light green eyes betrayed him showing his nervousness. \n\n\"Greetings, my name is Friedrich Wanderdört,\" he paused. His eyes grew large scanning the crowd, \"I've come to explain tonight's plans...\"\n\n\"He's still but a boy!\" Shouted an elf from the front nearest to the podium, \"And a half blood at that!\"\n\nThe crowd began to rumble with a hundred elven voices. \n\nThe elder braced himself with his cane and rose, \"Silence!\" His voice boomed once more. The half blood clutched his ears in pain. The crowd fell silent once more. The elder scanned the crowd with a scowl, \"Who said that?\"\n\nAn elf of fifty years stepped forward, \"It was I, elder.\" His voice stern. He looked towards the half blood, his yellow eyes piercing his soul.\n\n\"It is best to keep your tongue in leash or I shall bind your magic for six moons.\" The elder hissed.\n\nThe elf lowered his head, a grimace spreading across his face, \"My sincerest apologies, elder.\"\n\nThe elder sat down with a plop before turning his gaze to the half blood, \"My apologizes, speaker. Continue.\" The elder offered a weary smile of reassurance. \n\n\"Tonight, we will be revealing ourselves before twenty world leaders...\"\n\n\nSuddenly the doors to the warehouse burst open and light flowed in. Suddenly a voice yelled, \"For the kingdom and the glory of God!\"\n\n---\n\n\"Breaking news! A deadly terrorist suicide attack by a dozen Christian extremists leaves thirty elves dead and over two hundred injured,\" the news anchor struggled with the absurdity of what she was reading off of the teleprompter, \"We now go to President Hoover for a press release.\"\n\n\"My fellow Americans, your government has lied to you...\"\n\n---\n\nI haven't wrote for fun in forever. Sorry if it isn't my best. ", "At first, no one believed me. I knew it seemed crazy; after all, elves are defined in the dictionary as “mythological creatures, Germanic in origin.” But I knew what I’d seen on that Sunday hike in the woods behind my house. Two elves, about two and a half feet tall, appeared from inside of an ancient-looking oak tree, giving the phrase “coming out of the woodwork” a quite literal meaning. Both sported tattered clothing made out of leaves and a mossy substance. \n\n\nThey spoke to me in a guttural language which I assumed was Elvish. Both had a confused and panicked look in their eyes, which somehow seemed to beg for help. “I’m sorry,” I replied, “I don’t know what you’re saying.” I kneeled down, setting my pack beside me. “Are you lost?” I asked them, trying to figure out a gesture for “lost.” “Do you need help?” The slightly fatter elf backed away from me and shook his head. “Please, let me help you,” I said. “My house is just up there,” I pointed up the hill, “and I can brew you some tea. I have a spare bedroom!” The elves, however, seemed even more panicked than before. I got up and took a step toward them. “I won’t hurt yo—“ My sentence was interrupted by a crash and then blinding pain.\n\n\nShocked, I looked at the skinnier elf, who was somehow manipulating the trees around us with her palms. An entire branch had landed on my head, and several more threatened to do the same, cracking ominously. I pulled myself up with a grunt and rubbed my head, gave the elves one last glance, and ran. \n\n\nAs the months wore on, more and more reports of elf sightings emerged. Each of them ended in disaster for the human side. In most cases, the humans died. It seemed that I was one of the lucky few who had escaped the elves’ wrath. However, a question remained: why were the elves targeting us?\n\n\nAs it turned out, years of worldwide pollution had taken a toll on the elves’ habitat. The trees that the elves had lived inside for thousands of years and hundreds of generations had become too poisoned to inhabit. Hundreds of elves became trapped in the deadly trees, and the ones who escaped seemed to have a vendetta against the human race.\n\n\nToday, the human race is at risk of dying out due to brutal attacks from the elves. I’m unsure, but I think they want to inflict the same pain upon our race as we have theirs. I feel that humans could stop them if we were truly determined, but at this point, I’m not sure anyone wants to. Who are we, after all, to condemn them fr the same crime we have all committed?\n", "Man had changed since the last time I laid eyes on them. Since the days we left, they had grown in both number and power. Once, they had been as children to us, and in many ways they still were. I was one of the first to step into their world.\n\nA mere seven days into my travels, I had learned more than the tomes of our great libraries could hold. Though the languages were difficult to adapt to, I found myself picking up their slang nearly without effort. I knew then, that we would not be the dominant culture in this new age the eldest had wanted.\n\nWe began where we had left off, sailing into what is now called The Irish Sea. We found that our nature hid us from their eyes, even more so than before. Though much of what we knew from before was beneath the water, the sight of Eriador alive and filled with people brought joy to my heart.\n\nWe presented ourselves to the Queen of the United Kingdom and found that her position still held some of the magic of what once was. The whirlwind of chaos that followed our reveal gave us a new respect for the race of Man. Respect that we once had, but forgotten.\n\nAfter many long \"conversations\", we were acknowledged. The Treaty of London granted us the protections needed to live again in this world. However, gone were our hidden cities and forest hideouts. We were to become a part of this world.\n\nLet me be clear. I may come from an ancient and mystical culture of powerful tradition, but humans? A full score of our scholars wept tears of joy when they finally grasped the internet. Our bards dedicated songs to the food of the modern world only to tear them to shreds when they heard the sheer variety of music Man's music.\n\nThen came the first great mystery: John Ronald Reuel Tolkien. We scoured for ages on one question: How did he know? We may never discover the truth.\n\nWe knew we must contribute to this society, So we found the one place where Man had not left us behind: Magic. It was so rare among humans that most did not believe it existed. This gave us some... value to the world.\n\nI must commend the creativity of scientists, as they have done the most amazing things. I won't even get into space travel. Once magic was involved I gave up trying to follow it. However, the real genius of Man is in the details. Soon, wherever we looked we saw the living magic of the world working in conjunction with the machines and marvels of Man. They had been more than ready for it.\n\nAnyway, you wanted to know about the average life. My own should suffice, given that I live like most anyone else these days. I moved across the sea to the United States of America after we had truly settled in as \"people\". I should note that we are technically humans both by DNA and legal definition.\n\nI am a professor of magical studies at the Massachusetts Institute of Magic and Technology. I am paid well, and have many talented students, both Elf and Man, as well as those of mixed ancestry.\n\nI drive a '19 Dodge Aurochs (not the extinct animal.) which uses my own magic to propel itself. \n\nComputers and smartphones use ley lines as well as cell towers to operate and communicate. \n\nI spend hours reading just to keep up with the new theories and discoveries being made about magic and its subcategories, of which there are altogether too many.\n\nAll in all I'd say every human lives as they did before we arrived. We were truly the ones that changed. Though it is quite nice to be able to say that it was us who solved the energy crisis." ]	3
There exist a pantheon of gods that live in the Multiverse. They alone are allowed to interfere, to steer Universes into creating the sorts of Gods they wish to see. Gods are formed--here--from the assimilation of one Universe's matter into a single thinking structure. God was formed in a Universe much like ours and attempts to secretly mold us into his own sort of child/clone Universe-god. This rule is in place for this specific reason and being gods, they do not destroy--only neuter. Banishment from one's assigned Universe means exclusion to your own thoughts--think eternal virtual simulation or looking at that sexy neighbor naked before you but no touchy.	[WP] The Gods of the Multiverse have only one rule: Do not interfere. The God of Abrahamic faiths on Earth is being sentenced to expulsion from its designated Universe for interfering with the development of humanity. You are at its trial, about to hear its last words before it is cast out.	[ "It was supposed to be quick. It was just a sentencing hearing. The judgment had come down some time ago: two weeks prior, on Earth time, but there was no equivalent in celestial time. \n\nDuring that two weeks on Earth, God was present, but powerless. He could only see, and his touch was severely limited. He could not arrange events to suit His will, as he no longer had the foresight to determine possible outcomes of events. He was only a ghost.\n\nThe world, to his melancholy, felt his lack of presence. Colors no longer reflected the vibrancy of light. The sky in particular had faded into a milky gray. Sounds were hollow, as though they were being reverberated through an empty echo chamber. His Children, all seven billion of them, were listless and restless, as though they could tell that they were about to lose something, but they didn't know what.\n\nHe'd spent the last two weeks thinking about how He could continue to exist in a state of near nonexistence. He focused most of his attention on the Gobi desert, barren. He drew patterns of old constellations in the sand. Though the stars did not come to life like they did during creation, but he found small solace in the repetition. \n\nOccasionally His Advocate joined him. He imagined His Advocate, if the Advocate had a human form, to be a petite woman with fading hair and cateye glasses, a stoop that made her seem smaller than she was. The Advocate-She, said that under the rules of the universe, what He had done, there was no chance at redemption. She laughed sardonically when he asked if there was a chance if they could appeal his ruling. \"Out of all of the universes, only you created lifeforms that will review judgments for error.\"\n\nShe was present with Him as they stood before the tribunal. The only other one present was the Accuser, a representative of the Multiverse that prosecuted him. The Accuser waited silently. \n\n\"Do you have any final words before your sentencing?\" The tribunal asked.\n\nGod paused thoughtfully. He had those two Earth weeks to consider his statement, but everything he had to say had been said at the trial. \"I only have one question- Will life on Earth continue to exist as it is now?\"\n\n\"It will go the way of all the others.\"\n\nGod was silent, dumbfounded. He barely heard the tribunal as it laid out its sentence- and in the back of his mind, he could hear the soul sucking vacuum of what remained of joy, simply vanish.", "Shocked didn't even begin to describe it. I had lived my life based on a very specific set of beliefs, the main one being a huge and encompassing \"I don't know\" and so far it had worked well for me. I knew the universe was complex and I just kind of accepted the fact that I would never truly understand God. A big part of me was pretty convinced that he didn't exist and, as depressing as that thought was, it made more sense to me than the alternative. But here I sat, staring him straight in the face trying my best not to be too mesmerized by that single beautiful tear slowly making its way down his cheek. \nHe looked so normal. But that wasn't true, he was anything but normal. Sure his face looked like any other face, (surprisingly beard-less) however there was just something utterly awe inspiring about it. The sadness he held in his eyes was so beautifully overwhelming that I couldn't help but wipe away a few tears of my own before noticing the fear that hid behind them as well. Could God feel fear? He was supposed to be the essence of perfection, I never really figured fear could be part of that.\n\"You stand accused of interference in your world,\" I understood the fear now. I turned my head slowly in hopes of a glimpse at the source of this voice that embodied all the authority of the universe, but even as I turned I felt the hands of fear lock my head in place.\n\"You will be judged not only by your elders, but also by those you attempted so fruitlessly to rule as well. Why have you chosen to forsake us, your superiors who have given you everything, for nothing more but the favor of these powerless and witless pieces of life you call man?\"\nAnother tear formed in the somber eyes of God and began to roll towards his quivering chin as he brought his gaze away from the voice and instead focused it on me. \n\"Because, father,\" as he began to answer my heart was filled so full with joy that I began to feel faint as I knew this was God, my creator. \n\"Because unlike you, they love me.\"" ]	2
	[WP] Write me a story where the narrator - without direct contact - tries to stop the character from committing suicide.	[ "He sprints across the rain slicked road, hearing cars screeching around him followed by shouts and curses, but his path does not alter.\n\nThe rain drips thickly off the inside of his hood as he approaches the bridge and climbs over the railing. He stares down, at the dark forbidding water below him, has it really come to this?\n\nThroughout it all he's felt the heaviness of duty on him, the burden of action. When he saved the young girl from drowning, any one of those onlookers could have jumped in and rescued her, but they hadn't. They'd simply turned to him, looked at the young man, and expected.\n\nWhen he broke into the burning building of his father-in-law, saving his bride-to-be while simultaneously thawing the old mans hatred, he'd wondered why the fire engines were taking so long.\n\nWhen nobody else could cure her cancer, or speak at her funeral, or sort out what to do with the flowers, he started to loathe the constant acts required of him. If he didn't do things, they didn't get done.\n\nHe was tired, used up, and spent. He'd lived his life running from one catastrophe to the next, reacting and responding to the will of others, never making will for himself.\n\nHe feels the eyes of the person approaching from behind, and steels himself. He would not wait for words to grip themselves around his mind, to bend his will to another's again. He wanted to do this, he wanted it to end. He wouldn't give life a chance to hold him back, not this time. He jumped.\n\nThe fall was loud, yet peaceful, as he sped towards the looming dark. He'd made a choice. He'd made a choice to end his life, and he'd followed through. Nobody was able to stop him, it was entirely his own free will and he smiled a sad smile, the smile of the dead, as the water rushed up to meet him.\n\nWhen he woke in the bright lights of the hospital, with cold beeps and chattering nurses talking of lucky currents and quick thinking members of the public who just happened to know first aid, he sighed. \n\nHe'd failed in the only act of free will he'd ever managed. Was it too much for him to want to escape the bounds of his own misery, too much to place a full stop against his life and find peace? He closed his eyes and sunk into the crisp white sheets, all he wanted, right at that moment, was for it to end.\n\nAnd then it did.\n", "I didn't write Fredrick. I found him on the Internet one day, a forgotten character, a piece of misplaced prose. A lot had happened to Fred before the words ran out, stalling his life like an unwound watch, forgotten in an attic. He was down in the dumps, lost, without purpose. He was a struggling character, but not without hope. And so, for my new friend, forgotten, forlorn, forestalled Fredrick, I wrote Diane. \n\nDiane came into his life when he had a lot to lose and little to give. She was not the kind of saucy wench with which one could drown a life of sorrow in a night of passion. She was light on her feet, a bit ditzy, but full of energy. Most of all she was understanding. Diane found Fred with his hands threaded through his hair in a truck stop on a highway that sliced halves of an endless desert. There had been no-one else, and so she sat with him, oblivious to the dangers as those lively and loving women usually are. She had consumed an endless amount of coffee as she pulled the threads of Fred's heartstrings from his inner despair and into her hands. He had followed her, afterwards, in convoy to her parents' house, much further down the road, and found a hospitality to which he was not accustomed, and it made him happy.\n\nYears later I remembered my old friend Fred, and sought him again in all those heaps of electronic literature. The Fred that I had left had changed. He had married Diane. They had moved from a little apartment in the city to a cosy little home in green lawned suburbia. They had had two kids, and sent them to school and church and the park, in my absence. As I read further I saw the shadow of Fred's former life. Their youngest had caught an illness, one the doctors argued about and treated in different ways. Eventually the child had succumb to disease, leaving a hole in Fred's world that could not be filled. As I read further a dark comprehension settled about me. \n\nDiane had picked up the oldest, now the only child, from school. He wasn't the best dressed, or happiest, child, for the illness that had ravaged his brother had also, in its own way, touched and consumed his family. \n\nThe worst came when Fred, so hard at work, looked from his station to see a policeman, whose grim and daunted demeanour threatened Fred. The man, with shiny badge and tight set eyes, had come to tell Fred of his family, which had died at the scene an hour ago. A truck, he had said, had lost its brakes, and pushed the old sedan over the bridge. He nodded before turning away, and seeing about his own life once more.\n\nAnd so it was that I found Fred a second time, in a worse time, in the quiet house which had once been filled with the laughter of his children. Vodka on the table, a cigarette burning like incense on the ashtray, an old polaroid of Diane in his hand, from a time before empty rooms and quiet nights. Next to the vodka sat a razor and a bottle of pills, and it was as Fred reached for them that the words ended, a final triumph of despair.\n\nI could not let him die, my friend, and so I strove to save him. As his fingers brushed the tools of his demise I summoned a scratching upon the door, hoping that he would hear it, would acknowledge it. He gave it no heed, but the scratching grew fervently, excitedly. Fred opened the door to find a bitch, laboured in pregnancy, that darted between his legs and ran into the house. He followed her, only to find her in the cupboard is his boys' room, giving birth to the pups. He reached down to stroke the head of the panting mother as she struggled through the birth, and fetched a blanket for the pups. \n\nAnd so I left Fred again, sad that I could do no more, and turned back to reality." ]	2
	[WP] Somebody dares rise up against the Water Nation's thousand-year reign.	[ "It had been a thousand years since the rise of the Water Nation and since the Avatar was last seen walking the Earth. When the Water Nation first rose and took control of the World, many believed the Avatar would come to the rescue, but he never came. \n \nFor Many years the White Lotus had bid their time, hiding in the shadows, infiltrating the Water Nation. It took Centurys for them to gather any Intel about the Avatar, but now they found what they had been looking and hoping for all this time. They found the location where the Avatar was imprisioned, frozen in deep layers of ice, constantly kept under supervision and renewed by powerfull Water Benders at each full moon. \n \nTonight the White Lotus would rally their members and together they would fight with a single purpose. They would free the Avatar so that he might restore balance once more. He was their last and only hope. \n \nThe Blue Demon, leader of the Rebellion, looks up at the New Moon hanging above them in the Sky. Once a month Water Benders are at their strongest and their power can fell Nations, but tonight they are at their weakest, tonight will be the first blow in the long fight to restore balance. Tonight they will free the Avatar!", "I assume this is from [Acidbilly](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2qoexk/eu_everything_changed_when_the_water_nation/cn81gwx)\n\nEverything changed when the water nation attacked.\n\nI was just a girl.\n\nMy mother died in the attack. Father Crippled.\n\nI swore vengeance.\n\nWhen i turned 17, i cut their leader's throat.\n\nBlood poured into his bowl.\n\nAnd i cried.\n\nThey had guns.\n\nAnd an ability to bend.\n\nI was lost to the sea.\n\nlike everyone else.\n\nwho dared rise against the water nation.\n\nCriticism Would Be Great Thanks\n", "I'm on mobile, so I'd have a hard time linking the post this suggestion came from right now. You probably should, though, since that would provide important context.\n\n-----\n\nAkata slid his feet lightly into position - first the left, then the right, shoulder width apart and facing forward. \"Balance,\" he heard his father's voice drift back into his mind, \"the key to waterbending.\"\n\nHe sighed heavily. Waterbending had destroyed his childhood, separated his parents, driven his mother to insanity and his father to suicide. There was no balance in two famous waterbenders having a son who couldn't bend - a complete and utter disappointment, left to fish and work the frozen fields for doomed crops while his bender friends went out to rule the world.\n\nAkata scowled, shifting his weight and lashing out violently at the bowl in front of him. He hated waterbending. He hated his parents who had never loved him like they should have. And most of all he hated his own Nation, the author of his perpetual misery. The Water Nation was cruel to him, treating him as an outcast simply because he couldn't spend his time splashing around in the water. And the other nations were much worse off, ruled unfairly and treated like slaves.\n\nHe looked back to the bowl in front of him, hoping for a sign of progress. But the water remained calm, the bright sun playing around lightly on its smooth surface, laughing at his newest failure.\n\nAkata flew into a rage. The bowl smashed loudly to the floor, cracking and spilling its contents across his lap. He jumped up, cursing, and went into his shack to find a towel. As the old door clattered shut behind him, he heard a reedy voice calling his name from outside. \n\n\"Akata, Akata,\" it piped mockingly. \"It's that time again!\"\n\nAkata's rage worsened as he ground out the name. \"Soto.\" Childhood bully turned Water Nation soldier when it was discovered he could bend. A prodigy, the great young Soto was, and Akata's parents always looked at him with love and jealousy in their eyes. He was son they wanted - proud, strong...and most importantly, he could bend. Now he collected taxes for the Water Nation from its peasants, and he was always willing to take by force. He and his precious Nation were everything Akata hated.\n\n\"I'm a busy man, Akata. I know you're home, so let's make this snappy, see?\" Boots crunched roughly up the frozen path leading to the shack. In his anger, Akata took up a fighting stance just inside the door, ready to lash out. \"Balance,\" he thought briefly before roughly shoving the thought from his mind. The door flapped open in front of him, and he punched heavily at the familiar face on the other side. \n\nAkata felt no impact, but the effect was immediate. Soto was picked up off the ground and thrown violently backwards, and he probably would have flown quite far if not for a huge tree just a few feet behind him. His head hit the trunk first, buckling backwards into his body with a sickening snap. He fell to the ground, dead.\n\nAkata's rage mostly faded and was replaced by shock. In a stupor, he looked down at his feet to find them shoulder width apart, facing perfectly forward, neither supporting his weight more than the other. Balanced.\n\nHe looked to the slain Soto, then slowly down at his own clenched fists. The ancient legends were true. \n\nHe was a bloodbender.\n\nAkata looked back to Soto's corpse and rage found him again. A crazed grin slid onto his face as a plan began to form in his mind. \n\nThe Water Nation would pay.\n\n" ]	3
Feel free to write as the vampire, as the victim, or as a friend of either who's watching the slide into dependence as it happens.	[WP] Sure, a vampire can just drink anyone's blood and be satisfied for a little while. However, there's nothing like feeding off of someone who's come to love them.	[ "\"Will you walk into my parlor?\" I asked the innocent girl. I gave a slight bow and motioned up the stairs. \n\nMary gave a giggle and walked around the table in my foyer. There were a hundred roses in a large vase upon the table. \"These flowers are beautiful.\" She said.\n\n\"I bought them just for you. The most beautiful roses for the most beautiful girl.\" I said. \n\n\"It's so typical of a vampire though.\" She said, \"Blood colored flowers at your entrance.\"\n\n\"Oh?\"\n\n\"Do you do this to all of the girls?\" She asked. \"Woo them into your bed with flowers and sweet words?\"\n\n\"There have been no other girls.\" I said.\n\n\"You told me you're a vampire, you have to be a few hundred years old. There must have been other girls.\" Mary said.\n\n\"I assure you, there have been none. And I am only fifty.\"\n\n\"A young vampire? How queer.\" She walked over to me and patted me on the shoulder. \"There, there little vampire. You will be old and powerful one day.\" She then let out a light giggle and danced away before I could grab her. \n\nI chased after her, letting her stay just out of my reach. She ran into one of the guest rooms and I followed after. Finally I caught her and jumped onto the bed with her in my arms. \n\n\"Ooh!\" She screamed, \"You naughty young man. Taking a woman to bed before her wedding day?\"\n\nI kissed her deeply as an answer. She pulled me closer and I reached my hand up to unbutton her dress. We stayed in the guest room that night.\n\nThe next morning we sat on the porch to the house and ate some toast. Mary tried to do her hair up to prevent any more tangles. \"This would be much easier if you had a looking glass.\" She said. \n\n\"I'm a vampire.\" I told her, \"I have no need for one. Although there might be one in the parlor. I don't recall. I never use it.\"\n\n\"You're not like any vampire I've heard of.\" She said. \"Aren't you burned by the sun or something?\"\n\nI just shrugged and watched the sunrise. I looked over at Mary and smiled brightly at her. \n\n\"What? Is there something on my face?\" She asked.\n\n\"No. I was admiring your beauty. Your eyes shine in the sun like diamonds, and your hair has a brilliant hue that stirs my--heart.\" \n\n\"You're just trying to flatter me to get me in bed again.\" She said, \"Is once not enough?\"\n\n\"A million times will not be enough.\" I said.\n\n\"Unfortunately I must go now. My father will be waiting for me and I am running out of excuses for being out all night.\" Mary told me.\n\n\"Will I see you again?\" I asked.\n\nShe smiled and stood up, brushing some toast crumbs off of herself. \"We shall see.\"\n\nA few days later she returned, I'd replaced the roses with lilac. She danced around the table once more. \"They smell wonderful.\" She said.\n\n\"They reminded me of you. The sweet scent they give in the spring, and the purple and green that you are fond of wearing. But no flower could be as beautiful as you are today.\" I said.\n\n\"You know how to make a girl feel pretty,\" She said, \"But maybe you're trying too hard.\" She gave me a peck on the cheek.\n\n\"I do not have to try anything, when it comes to your beauty. It is simply there for me to behold. I am only the messenger of truth.\" I told her.\n\n\"You said there would be dinner?\" Mary asked, walking toward the parlor.\n\n\"There will.\" I said, following after her.\n\n\"You didn't tell me what it was.\" She said.\n\nI walked behind her as we entered the large room. I grabbed her by the hips and kissed her on the neck. \"Does it matter?\"\n\nShe turned to face me and held my shoulders. She looked up at me and gave a brilliant smile. \"You're being naughty again.\"\n\n\"Your eyes hypnotize me.\" I said, leaning down and kissing up her neck and chin and nibbling her ear.\n\n\"There will be time for that later, my love.\"\n\n\"That's all I needed to hear.\" I said as I bit down into her neck, drinking the delicious nectar of a woman in love. \n\nWhen I finished she fell to the floor. I wiped the blood from my chin and pulled the candle from the wall. The curtains lit easily. I moved from room to room making certain that the fire engulfed the entire house. The owners wouldn't mind, they were sleeping eternally in the attic. Finally I evaporated and moved on to the next town, where the next woman waited.", "I stepped into the dimly lit bar a little later than usual. Frank gave me a look and I waved him off. I'd tell him what a shitty day I'd had later, after I finished drinking. I felt like I could drain a whole human tonight--not that I would of course. We've come a long way with civil rights and such, I'd hate to ruin our progress. Frank pulled up a file and had me confirm on the screen facing me; AB- would be great tonight.\n\n I moved towards the feeding rooms, the one marked for me was my usual one. Inside was nearly clinical, but still felt decently comfortable. Maybe that was just me though, you really get used to a place if you're there almost every day.\n\nIt'd be nice to take a break though, not have to worry about finding a blood bar that wasn't sketchy or what quality you're getting. I'm glad I found Frank's place quickly, he's got the works with both live sources and reserves with hospital grade supply. Speaking of the living, there's my meal for tonight.\n\n\"Hello,\" she smiled. She was a familiar face. That happens often with places like these, regulars who enjoy the government perks that come along with donating. This one was a bit nicer though; she talked a lot about equality, not just for vampires like me but for everyone. She seemed genuine and always held good conversation. Whenever I fantasized about actually having a relationship, she popped into my mind more often than I would ever admit. It's still dangerous to think like that, there are still those lunatics out there. And I don't think I really stand a chance with a girl like her. She's too good for me.\n\n\"Hello sweet heart,\" I replied grinning widely. I'm a sucker for puns. She made a face before laughing. \n\n\"That was lame and you know it.\" She sat in her chair and positioned her arm out. I shrugged. \n\n\"You still laughed.\" She smiled again as I sat near her and mumbled something I didn't catch before I bit as nicely as I could into her forearm. \n\nI was stunned as her blood flowed into my mouth. It was like nothing I've tasted before. Sweeter than sugar yet more savory than anything I've ever had. Waves of physical pleasure and warmth swept through me as I drank greedily. Satisfaction settled into my bones as I stopped myself.\n\nI looked up into her face only to find her staring back at me, eyes hazy with something I've only seen seen on a screen. \n\n\"I said, it's only 'cause I love you.\"" ]	2
	[WP] You have become death, destroyer of worlds.	[ "I saw the button. It was simple, red, no words on it as I already knew what it did. I mean I built the button, I built what happens when you press the button, and I was given the choice of whether or not to push the button. Humanity was screwed, that much was apparent, Plagues and starvation across 3 planets and 6 space stations. That was why they approached me and now they have given me a choice, Save humanity and doom the universe, or annihilate humanity to save the universe. I knew what must be done. With my hand on the button I whispered 'May the universe finally know peace'. With that said the button was finally pressed. There were no warning lights, no countdown, just white and then nothing.\n\n4 Quintillion people died when I pressed that button, killing every human in the solar system.\nI had become death, destroyer of worlds.", "I don't understand why I was given this position? There was nothing particularly special about me, but I have the ability to do something that no other can do.\n\nI remember the day it happened. I woke up and went outside to get the paper and there it was. A small package with no markings on it except for my address. I brought it in and sat it on my table. Upon opening the package I saw two things inside, an envelope with my name on it and a small cube. \n\nThe cube was slightly larger than a Rubik cube and had a small crease going along the center of the entire cube. I could tell it could be opened, but luckily I thought to open the envelope first. The envelope had a typed letter in it, but it was clear it was written with a type writer. I sat down and began to read it.\n\nDear Mr. Wilson,\n\nI am typing this to inform you that you have been selected to hold a very important title. Along with this letter you will find a cube. This cube is very important to your new title. If one day in the foreseeable future you feel it is necessary follow these steps.\n\nStep 1: Hold the cube firmly in your left hand.\n\nStep 2: Place your right on the top of the cube.\n\nStep 3: Pull the top half of the cube off of the bottom half of the cube.\n\nCongratulations Mr. Wilson, You have become death, destroyer of worlds.\n\n " ]	2
	[WP] You are a disgruntled magician's assistant who quits during a live show in the best way ever	[ "The mustachio'd bastard's gonna get his, I can tell you that. \n\nThree times a day, stuck in that lousy magic room with nothing inside but me. It's enough to drive you mad. And then after you're thinking about chewing off a leg just to alleviate the boredom, BAM! He pulls you out with a flourish. And the crowd goes nuts. But does the audience cheer for me? No. It's always the flashy one that gets all the credit.\n\nHuh. I don't know what I'm still doing here with him. We've been working together for nearly four years now, but every single time I ask for a raise, what do I get? He pets me on the head! Sometimes the bugger even tweaks my nose! I ask you, is that anyway to treat your assistant?\n\nWell, I've had it with Mr. Magic himself. Huh. \n\nWe'll see how he likes it when he pulls out a rabid gopher from his hat.", "Mysterious Marvin sweeps back his cloak and flourishes his gleaming saw to the mesmerized crowd. \n\n\"And now, for my final trick, I will saw Carl, my unfortunate assistant, in two. Vanessa, if you please.\"\n\nVanessa, in her skimpy outfit, walks over and latches the box shut over my body. I wink. I always wink. This time, Vanessa doesn't wink back. She returns to the side of Mysterious Marvin. \n\n\"Thank you, my stunning creature,\" Mysterious Marvin says, half to her, half to the crowd. His eyes linger on her body a moment longer than necessary. I notice. \n\nHis hand brushes by the small of her back as he takes slow, orchestrated steps towards me. He places the saw in the preset groove of the box and turns to the crowd. \n\n\"Any last words?\" His voice thunders. The audience titters their approval. He looks down at me and smiles. I can smell the gin on his breath. \n\nHe starts to saw, and I scream. The audience quiets down, all eyes on the box. Mysterious Marvin continues to saw, and I scream louder. Mysterious Marvin gives me a strange look. I've never screamed like this before during our act. \n\nThe audience murmurs. Even the mundane masses, the type of people who still pay to see a show like this, can tell the difference between fake screams and real screams.\n\nMysterious Marvin looks down and notices the dripping blood. He jumps back and the crimson saw clatters to the stage floor. \n\n\"What have you done?\" I yell. Vanessa shrieks. Someone in the audience cries out in horror. \n\n\"You didn't tuck your feet?\" Mysterious Marvin can barely whisper.\n\nI glance at Vanessa and then look Mysterious Marvin in the eye. \n\nNo one steals from me." ]	2
	[WP] The president has been kidnapped by Cyborg Ninjas. The Secret Service recruits third grader Billy Thompson, the only kid with awesome enough skills to get him back.	[ "\"Alright mrs. Thompson, now just relax. we are getting set up here to do the interview, and we are not going live for a good solid half a day yet. we'll get make up down here on the double.\" Zack Nehama of the Washingon Press muttered as he extended the tripod pole for the camera.\n\nMrs. Thompson was shifty in her chair. there were lighting people, sound engineers, and photographers all over the place. she was going to tell them about the person that saved the world - her son little Billy Thompson - and she could not be more proud.\n\nsoon the lights started their soft glow, Zack's finger was pressed at his ear and he had a stern face on him. he sat in the stool beside Mrs. Thompson and glared at the camera for what seemed a dozen minutes.\n\na wiry, pastey man with a cafe mocha was jittering behind the camera into two cellphones at once. he put down one phone and held up 4 fingers at the full extension of his arm above his head. one after the other the fingers went down and at two fingers up he shouted \"QUIET!\" and the sound and light managers all hushed while the fingers dropped.\n\nthe last finger fell, and the wiry arm lowered. immediately Zack perked up \"Good afternoon Washington! Joining us this afternoon is none other than the mother of Billy who is giving us an exclusive 'Behind Billy' interview - Good afternoon Mrs Thompson\"\n\n\"Please call me Jan\"\n\n\"Thank you, Jan. now in your own words can you describe Billy to us, give us an idea of what it is like to be the parent of little Billy?\"\n\n\"Certainly Zack; it all began last year when Billy was in Second grade. he had just gotten a pair of flashy light shoes, and my brother had gifted him a pair of Spiderman PJ's. he began an interminable love affair with superheroes after that. He would run around most of the day with his action figures in hand pretending they could fly. we have several large boxes of legos that he assembled into facsimile guns that he would pretend to fire at everything. \n\nwell in the course of playing with the legos he invented his own game and invited his school friends over to play it with him, he called it Monster Trek. they took these guns out of legos and went down to our basement to hide and seek - and upon being found would shoot each other.\n\nBilly always won that game, he knew every crack in that basement.\"\n\n\"thank you Mrs Thompson; do you know how your son was contacted by the secret service?\"\n\n\"well no, not exactly but I imagine it was not hard for them to go to the school and pick him up. I did get a call from the principal and secretary of the school complaining about men in black suits barging in and removing him from class without a note from me.\"\n\n\"Mrs Thompson are you aware of how Billy came to stop the assailants of the president?\n\n\"well the secret service explained it to me quite well. you see the Cyborg Ninjas that kidnapped the president happen to be assembled on the same rules as the lego blocks we gave him. once one of the secret service shot and killed the cyborg ninja with a bullet, Billy was able to assemble the cyborg into something new. with his new weapon the service and Billy were able to gain access to the headquarters, seek each cyborg ninja out and kill them dead. it was then only time enough to rescue the president before they could run out of the building before it exploded.\"\n\n\"And where is little Billy now, Jan?\"\n\n\"he is still with the service, they intend to learn as much about assembling those cyborg ninjas as possible before they release him back to me\"\n\n\"Thank you Jan Thompson, mother of the courageous hero Billy Thompson. this is Zack Nehama, Washingon.\"\n\nthe wiry man shouted \"CUT\"\n\nthe newsroom anchors echoed \"thank you Zack. in other news Florida has banned a popular children's game after reports it has racial overtones and encourages violence\" showing a picture of children playing British Bulldog. \"we'll have more news at 6.\"", "Billy's phone rang. It shouldn't have done that. It was on vibrate. Mrs. Rathberg shot him ice daggers, and he dug in his bag, and pulled it out. She just held out her hand. Billy knew the rules. Phone rings and you fork it over until the end of the day.\n\nThe caller ID said USSS and some 202 number. He had no idea who it was, but the vibrate button was definitely pushed. He handed her his phone and went back to his desk.\n\nNo sooner did he get back to his desk then Kelly Steven's phone ring. She sat next to him. Mrs. Rathberg stopped dead and just looked at Kelly. \"It's off, I swear!\"\n\n\"Hand it over\"\n\nWhile she was on her way up, Mike Kyle's rang. Giggles. Lots of giggles.\n\n\"What the heck is going on?\" Everyone could see she was frustrated. Then everyone's phone rang. Including her's. She went to her purse and grabbed her phone. \"What!?!?\"\n\n\"Yes, he's here. He's in the middle of math.\" She paused. \"Fine. He'll be in the admin office in five minutes.\"\n\n\"Billy. Get your jacket.\" She reached into her desk and handed him back his phone. \"Apparently your country needs you. Heaven help us all.\"\n\n----------\n\nThe men in black pulled up about minutes after Billy got to the Principal's office. There were three of them. \"Mr Thompson?\"\n\n\"Yah?\"\n\n\"Mr. William 'Billy' Thompson?\"\n\n\"Yah?\"\n\n\"Mr. Billy Thompson, CyborgNinjaSlayerSr?\"\n\n\"That's me. Who wants to know?\"\n\n\"Thank god. We wasted almost six hours, and ended up with CyborgNinjaSlayerJr, and CyborgNinjaSlayerII earlier.\" Obvious relief emanated from the suits. \"Look, we'll brief you in the car. But suffice it to say, there is a situation, and your particular skillset is needed, and we can't settle for second best.\"" ]	2
Alternatively; he discovers the women in the crowd.	[WP] A man is about to be hanged for robbery and murder together with several others. When lead to the gallow he discovers the only women he ever truly loved but lost decades ago next to him. His last words are directed to her ...	[ " \"Where'd you get that dip anyway, Terror?\" Marshall Erikson asked as Timothy \"Terror\" Tallmen spat another string of brown slime in the dirt path leading to the gallows.\n\n \"Well, that deputy you had, the one with the lazy eye?\" Terror said. \"He leaned a little too close to the bars yesterday. I was hoping to grab a spare set of keys, but he didn't appear to have any. Fine cut of tobacco, though.\"\n\n \"Ah, that'd be Norman,\" Erikson said, tugging on Terror's bound hands. \"I don't let him carry keys anymore.\"\n\n \"Right idea there, Marshall, kid's strong as an ox but dumber than a dead basset hound. I nearly talked him into letting me outside to take a piss last night, till you got back.\"\n\n \"No shit? I'm going to have to fire that boy,\" the Marshall said, shaking his head sadly. \"I told his mama I'd look after him, but enough's enough.\"\n\n Terror looked up at the approaching gallows, the mortician's cart already backed up and waiting to take the bodies away and twitched his handlebar mustache thoughtfully. \"I'm sorry about those boys you sent after me out west of Chattahooga,\" he said.\n\n \"No you're not,\" the Marshall said amiably.\n\n \"True, I am not,\" Terror said. \"I am suddenly a bit concerned about the state of my immortal soul, however. You think the good lord could forgive a man like me?\"\n\n The Marshall laughed, and clapped him on the shoulder, knocking his bowler hat askew. \"You better just hope the devil's lousy at poker, you son of a bitch.\"\n\n The Marshall readjusted Terror's hat. \"Thank you kindly, Marshall,\" Terror said. \"I ever tell you the story of that hat?\"\n\n \"I don't care, Terror,\" the Marshall said, not unkindly. \n\n Terror nodded, returning his attention to the gallows. He realized they were reading the names and crimes of the convicted before him and one struck his ears, a name as pretty as a silver bell's tune, sending a rush of blood through his body. His eyes took in the gallows, and the figure there waiting to die and his knees became weak as he took in her strawberry hair and freckled face, the decades barely showing upon it.\n\n \"Telulah \"Tyrant\" Tallmen, nine counts of murder, fifty counts of theft, horse thievery-\"\n\n \"And being a filthy fuckin' whore!\" Timothy yelled out, and the crowd stepped back.\n\n \"Timothy?!\" Telulah yelled in shock. \"You son of a bitch!\"\n\n \"You left me to die!\" Timothy screamed\n\n \"You left me at the altar!\"\n\n \"Because you left me to die!\"\n\n \"You told me to run!\"\n\n \"I told you to run back and get the horses and come and get me, dammit! You never did listen to me!\"\n\n \"I want the best years of my life back, Timothy!\"\n\n \"Well I want my mothers ring back!\"\n\n \"Drunk!\"\n\n \"Whore!\"\n\n \"Cheat!\"\n\n \"Uh...Whore!\"\n\n Telulah, her face red in rage turned to face the crowd. \"I would like my final words on this earth to be that Timothy Tallmen has a tiny dick!\"\n\n \"I would like my final words to be that this woman also has a tiny dick!\" Timothy shouted back.\n\n Terror realized that Marshall Erickson was now laughing as he lead the condemned man up the gallows and positioned him, pulling the noose around his neck. Timothy and Telulah stood awkwardly side-by-side as Timothy's crimes were read to the public.\n\n \"And the impersonation of a federal judge for a period of ten months!\" finished the man reading the list of crimes. Timothy laughed as the memory came back to him. His laughter echoed in a voice like an angel beside him.\n\n \"I thought we were going to have to retire as respectable citizens,\" Telulah said. \n\n \"Never would've lasted, even if the Pinkertons hadn't shown up,\" Timothy said. \"Every time the town sheriff came into court I kept trying to duck under my desk.\"\n\n She giggled. The sound brought back so many memories.\n\n \"Could you ever forgive an old murderer like me, Telulah?\" he asked her.\n\n \"I did twenty seconds ago, for making me laugh,\" she said.\n\n \"That's great,\" he said, eyeing the crowd and Marshall Erickson. \"Do you still keep that thing in your brassiere?\"\n\n A pause. \"Yes I do, honey.\"\n\n Timothy nodded. \"Let's go ahead and get that out right about now,\" he said, and reached into his pants.\n\n \"Sir!\" cried a shocked woman in the front of the crowd, suddenly shielding her daughter's eyes. \"There are children present.\"\n\n Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Erickson turn, a scowl on his face and then Deputy Norman's two-shot derringer came out from the Terror's underwear and a single .38 bullet punctured the Marshall's skull. Terror turned and fired at the man working the gallows, a splatter of blood erupted from the executioner's neck.\n\n \"I have four more bullets for the next goddamn hero who goes near that lever!\" Terror lied. He felt the rope of the noose go limp, and turned to see Telulah, her straight razor from its little nest in her bosom now free, having cut his rope first. She smiled at him and went to work on her own bonds, Timothy dove for Erickson's twitching body, grabbing his revolver and firing a shot over the crowd as they scattered. He pulled the bowie knife from Erickson's belt and started awkwardly slicing through the ropes binding him with his left hand while the right held onto the gun.\n\n The ropes fell from his hands and he heard the creak of the gallows lever, and dove towards Telulah, covering the trapdoor with his body while she stood on his back. The other prisoners fell into their own trapdoors and began to dance at the end of their ropes. Terror looked at the lever and saw the executioner, holding his neck wound, hand still on the lever. The man held his hand out as Terror aimed and fired, splattering his brains out in the dusty road behind them.\n\n Telulah's weight shifted and a length of noose fell to the floor beside him. She stepped off his back and Timothy scrambled to his feet, facing her and slicing the sharpened knife through her wrist bonds. He took her left hand and ran his thumb over the ring his mother had told him to give Telulah. He dipped her down and kissed her.\n\n \"You're as beautiful today as the day I married you,\" he told her.\n\n Her hand ran softly down his unshaven cheek. \"You're still as ugly as a bull's ass. We need to run away now.\"\n\n They leaped down onto the mortician's cart, the mortician wisely having fled with the rest of the men, and Timothy took the reigns. The two horses were large but fast and they raced away from the town, Telulah threading her arm through his as the sunset blazed in his eyes.", "Standing above the rough stone ground of the Gallows' Courtyard was a gathering of people to whom I had inflicted mental or emotional harm. A familiar old man hunched and reserved in his stature crouched over his cane like a willow. Behind him there was a small group of women, the two girls behind them peering through their mother's legs curious about me, I smiled at them.\n\nI was pushed forward towards the gallows but luckily for me the courtyard was big, and the walk there seemed like a full minute. A certain glare seemed to mask the wonderful faces of everyone watching me, it was a glare that reminded me of a woman I once dated wore when she was angry.\n\nUnfortunately, I was surrounded by people with whom I had created a connection of ill-will and I was shoved to the ground, by the looks of it, Gregory Willard. I had murdered his wife with a cooking pan. He was a gambler with a short temper, so who is he to say I am beneath him, I am not. I stood and stared up at the blue sky and large rolling clouds, soon pushed towards the gallows once again, a short moment of beautiful thought amongst the chaos that lengthened my time alive, it was worth being shoved. \n\nI did eventually arrive at the apparatus, it seemed very boring, just a structure of wood with some oddly placed rope. I looked behind me as a climbed the stairs to the balcony and to my surprise there was a woman who would be joining me in death. Her expression was familiar, a certain angry glare.\n\n\"Horus Filton, you are charged with the murder of 23 men and women, and the robbery of Agetha Williams, I hereby under the order of the church's clergy sentence you to be hung until the moment of death.\"\n\n\"Gabriella Rivas, you are charged with the murder of Timothy and Francine Filton, I hereby under the order of the church's clergy sentence you to be hung until the moment of death.\"\n\nMother, father? They are back home in Edinborough right now, how could they be dead? Wait, Gabriella. That glare.\n\n\"Who the hell are you woman?\"\n\n\"Sweet death Horus, sweet death.\"\n\nThere was a short moment of darkness and confusion as i felt cloth skim over my face like putting on a shirt, then there was a recession of my heartbeat and I fell. I fell into a sleep and in my dream a woman approached me at a table with a steaming drink in her hand, a smile on her face.\n\n\"I made you some coffee, Horus.\"\n\n\"Thanks. Hey did you see this article about an older couple who was murdered?\"\n\n\"No, let me take a look.\"\n\nHer eyes became black and her skin flushed blood red, I watched as a little wisp of life left her beautiful blue irises. I had stuck a knife in her side, killing her.\n\n\"Sweet death, Gabriella, sweet death.\"\n\nNow it was me, I could feel the little ball of white life fading from my eyes and the quickening nervous heartbeat slowing to a halt inside me. I had loved her, but I had loved killing more.\n\n" ]	2
Edit: This is the frist prompt I've put up and I'm glad to see a lot of creative stories. I'm definitely going to do this again.	[WP] The world as you know it has been destroyed by nukes. You've lived in a well stocked bunker for 2 years. Food is extremely low and you've decided to see the world before you starve to death. Describe it.	[ "I arose from the depths of deserts in Texas/\nHurt from hunger, ate the last of my chex mix!/\nI couldn't stand to live down under, I'm not Australian!/\nYears of darkness has this man's hands feeling scaly and/\nI've been dying to touch the nearby valley's sand./\nWith a confident push the bunker door shoots open/\nWith a confident look I hunker back, survival is hopeless/\nI view adolescents on their deathbeds and/\nChildren being filled in, mass killings/\nBefore I lower my head, I notice the sun in a child's eyes/\nI quickly realize that child is mine/\nI thought he died when I was twenty five, when I had to give up family and friends to survive/\nI am now twenty seven, my mind is so desolate/\nMy son never got to go up to heaven, he's alive and my boy is eleven/\nI lower my body back into the bunker, no longer feeling the sharp stabs of hunger/\nMy son was my boy, close like my brother/\nAll the girl problems I used to have, he would solve her/\nI slowly reach forward to grab my revolver/\nTo reunite myself with my beloved problem solver/\n", "Another cough wracked my frame, bending me heaving over my knees. A juddering bone rattling shake, squeezing my thoughts down to a pinpoint animalistic yearning to suck in air again. The fit passed and I quenched my thirst for oxygen with deep satisfying breaths. The humid air thick in my ravaged lungs, oh so sweet on my leathery tongue. I spat the detritus of my coughing to the dust, dark yellow streaked with the pink of my rotting insides. Not long now. I could feel it creeping up on me. My once strong body collapsing from the inside out, flesh breaking down as the radiation did its work. I tongued the gaps where teeth had already fallen, explored the shaking wobbly foundations of those I had left. That constant taste of copper.\n\n \n\nI resumed my staggering journey. Step after step, each a steady crunch through the grey underfoot. Boots caked thick with the dust of my world. Two weeks I had walked from my safe little haven. Rough concrete bunker set deep in the earth. My sanctuary and prison cell these long two years. Days counted on a calendar of the piled up remains of my dwindling food supply. Each empty can and drained water jug a mute sentinel set to witness the slow decline of my hope. My panicked response fluctuating between feasting indifference and sobbing fasting. Finally a scrabbling piling of food into my pack and then before that yellow hearted creature gnawing at my chest could stop me out the door and into the world. Finally breathing at real air, seeing further than the confines of my small box, finally back into the unfettered world. \n\n \n\nA world that immediately began to kill me.\n\n \n\nI reached the top of the mountain of dust I was climbing. I gazed out around me, looked out on the remains of the world. All around me stretched that same stark landscape. Flat plain of dust with twisted alien shape of grasping dead trees clutching to the sky with brittle broken fingers. Here and there a small exposed corner of the remains of some building of construct. Puzzle pieces hinting at the world we had lost.\n\n \n\nI would rest here. Rest and get my breath before I staggered down the other side of the hill. Step after step forward into the desert.", "The ground was colorless.\n\nI stepped out of my bunker, the burnt steel clamped shut behind me. There was nothing left standing but a fortress of silence. I gave up my hopes of anything surviving and retreated back to my bunker. The steel door had locked behind me.\n\nFor two years, silence was all I knew. No it is all I will ever know, awaiting my death in a barren universe.\n\nThe sky is colorless.", "I almost wish I had never set foot in this bunker. Two years of solitude and the knowledge of my food supply running low has been causing me a great deal of stress and anxiety. No one deserves a slow, painful death by starvation alone in a bunker. \nI walked up and down the stairs for my daily exercise, thinking of all the people who used to occupy my life before the war.\nMom.\nDad. \nEric. \nWe were so happy. The world wasn’t perfect, but it was survivable. How did things go so horribly wrong so quickly?\nI remember when Eric directed me to this place when they finally attacked. He gave me the passcode and said he’d be here in a little while.\nHe never came. \nI stopped at the top of the stairs and stared at the door that led to the outside world. Tears were falling down my face. Is today the day I go out? Will it be beautiful and lush? Will anyone be alive? I’m too scared to find out. Maybe I’ll try it tomorrow.\nDinner time. You’d think I would have given up my routine, but I find it comforting. It drives me to survive. Though I won’t be surviving much longer as I have eaten the last of my dinner ration. Only one breakfast remains. I’ll be sure to enjoy it slowly in the morning. \nBefore bed I brush my teeth and play chess against myself until I finish. Stalemate. As always.\n*\nI have my last breakfast ration. Oatmeal and brown sugar. Delicious. Nothing to drink but filtered water, I drink until full, shower, and get changed into the clothes I came in here with. I haven’t put them on since getting here, and I am swimming in my jeans and my light blue long-sleeve shirt. I’ve probably lost 30 pounds since my arrival.\nI put on my favourite sneakers. I remember how happy I was getting these shoes. It filled me with a strange sense of nostalgia and hope. Maybe the outdoors will be not so bad. Maybe everyone got kidnapped and I’ve been safe all along. Maybe everything will be okay. I look at myself in the mirror and notice for the first time that I’ve lost much of my youth. My face used to be full, eyes filled with energy. Now all I see is a sullen stranger who is confused with who is staring at them.\nI avert my gaze and make my way up to the door. No hope fills my heart. Only dread of what possibly could be.\nI open the door, and for what it seems like hours all I can process is blinding light. I drop to my knees and hold my eyes in my hands. It burns. \nI try to concentrate on what feels the least overwhelming, but the intense, thick smell of dust and debris makes me feel light-headed. The air quality of the bunker was excellent, and I feel as I am choking on dust. \nMy mind is dizzy and my stomach begins churning the oatmeal and water wildly. Black spots begin flashing and I press harder against my eyes to shield the light from them. My whole body begins swaying as I panic, and the panic, and the lack of being able to breath, and the thick smells make me retch, and I lose my breakfast on the ground. \nPanic.\nHyperventilation.\nDarkness. \n\nI feel the harshness of the ground on my face. It feels like gravel and sand. I breathe in and a large amount of dirt is sucked up through my lungs. I begin hacking intensely and get to my knees to avoid breathing in more dirt. Though my coughing causes me to lose more of the food I consumed earlier. \nThe light isn’t as intense now, though I fear to fully open my eyes. I can vaguely see outlines of buildings through my half-opened eye lids. No auditory signs of humans activity. Though I can vaguely make out the tweeting of birds. I am unsure if I’m really hearing birds, it has been so long. \nSlowly my vision becomes clear and I see what I expected. It fills me with emptiness as the buildings I vaguely remember are blasted apart. No trees, no greenery, nothing but rubble and dust. \nThe sky is thick with haze. The sun is not even visible to me anywhere. \nIt’s so hard to breathe. It hurts so much. \nI begin walking, but immediately feel light headed as I cannot even suck in enough oxygen to power my legs forward. I fall to my knees gasping for breath. It feels as I’m breathing through a straw filled with dirt. My lungs burn. I attempt to cough into my long sleeve shirt but it’s covered with a blanket of dust. I pat my sleeve clean and cough hard to try to clear my lungs of the dust. \nI nearly black out but I catch my breath briefly and remove my arm from my face. \nMy sleeve covered in blood. \nMy heart beats fiercely and I’m losing my breath again. I begin to retch and dry heave violently. Blood is all that exits from my mouth and nose. \nThe world I know is gone, the body I have is in complete and utter agony. I cannot breathe as blood and dust digs into in the depth of my lungs. My eyes are burning, I can barely see. \nI fall onto my back, trying to be calm as I accept my fate.\nAnd as darkness slowly creeps in, I see a small sliver of blue in the sky.\n \n", "As I ascend to the surface to get food, I remember what the world was like before. I remember the sounds of the city. I remember by family. We couldn't travel much, and I was only a child, so the city was the world I knew.\n\nBut I also knew the rest of the world was creeping in on my home. I don't know if nukes struck there. It didn't seem to matter, though, as there was nothing I could do. My older brother could, but he died in the war. I was lucky to find the shelter as I did. I haven't talked to anyone since the door was closed.\n\nI ascend, and look around expecting to see ruins. I figured I mightaswell see it one last time before I starve. No, I see a city. It's intact. Life seems fine. People are doing things. I don't know if I would be able to live here, though.\n\nThe world I knew was indeed gone. I didn't know all the ways how, but it would never be the same. Especially not since that day two years ago. A lot has changed in Japan since 1945.\n\nNote: I don't know much background on the events, but this prompt gave me this idea, and I figured I should try it.", "We spent too many hours sitting in that comfortable dark those two years. That womb. \n\nBut even babies must eventually make their way into the light.\n\nAll time had morphed into an unbroken stream in the bunker. The clocks stopped running at 10:26 MST, that could October morning. I knew from my marks on the walls, neat and orderly like prisoners at roll-call, that it had been 756 days since then. At least. Lately, I'd stopped marking the times when I woke or slept. They all bled into one dim daynight. We'd stopped talking much while the food got lower. \n\nThere wasn't much to put in the pack that I'd made those first tense days. My go bag, in case we had to make a run for it. In case I was able to bargain my way out of the bunker and into the open. The readiness of those days, waiting for a knock, waiting for the others, waiting for those who would surely know we were alive and had precious food they needed...long burned away in the markings on the grey walls. The others never came. We are alone. \n\nThe gun I left. No one was left to use it on, and anyway I didn't plan to see another day in the Womb. \n\nThe doors were heavy. I pulled the huge locks away and he took the dials, struggling with the thick concrete and opening them slowly to the surface. I popped some iodine. To protect my thyroid, I told him. I told myself. Even though we wouldn't make it long with the go bag as my only supply. \"Here, you take some too.\" \n\nA blanket. A compass. Our last seven cans of beans. Our last can of spinach. A lighter. A tarp. And the last of the whisky he bought me on my birthday, three years ago. Fine, single malt Scotch whisky. Scotland sure feels farther away now. \n\nWe knew the ridge. It was home, in the years before the clocks stopped. We retreated. The cities were corrupt. Filled with self-important arseholes. Filled with drunken philosophies. Filled with dread. We knew it was coming. \n\nFifteen years after we got married, we set up our tiny hut on the tiny land we bought. That ridge is ours. We know that ridge. \n\nIt once overlooked a plain where the Rockies meet the high altiplano of the West. For ten months every year it was golden. Drained of all water. No snow, no green, just golden grass. And the city in the distance, looking like a simulation. \n\nWe know that ridge. \n\nWe climbed, muscles tired from the years of disuse. Lungs full of dust. The golden fields long since reduced to ash. The sky is orange, the sun a blazing ember. I think of the summer of my youth when wildfires raged across the state and turned the sky that colour, if only for a day. It doesn't smell the same. It smells of motor oil and nylon, of melting steel and iron. It smells of jet fuel. \n\nThe city remains, against all odds. When the warnings came, almost no one took them seriously. We played a game together. We needed a vacation. Why not do a practice run in the bunker? Then the clocks stopped. \n\nMy husband is ahead of me, sweating. We are closer to how we were when we met. Thinner. Longer. He is smiling. \n\n\"What?\" \n\nStill he smiles. \n\n\"What?\" \n\n\"That's a smokey whisky I bought you. It will pair excellently with the jet fuel and charred civilisation.\" \n\nWe both laugh. We haven't laughed, or even spoken, in days. Weeks. We were so afraid of what we would find outside, and now we're here it's as bad as all our dreams could be. Nothing living. Not even a bird. We are ghosts already. But we are laughing. \n\nWe sit down on a rock on the ridge, pointing out old landmarks from that other dreamland. The school I went to as a child. The place our boys raced down a hill and crashed into one another. The office I worked in briefly. \n\nI pour us two doubles. He takes a long drag of the whisky. I gulp mine down and pour one more. \n\n\"We're here. We're together.\" He says. I see the play of his old smile in his cheeks, and just for a moment we are in our 20s again. \n\n\"I love you.\" \n\"The fires are coming.\" \n\n\"I love you.\" \"I love you too.\" \n\n", "The doors grind loudly. I can feel it in my teeth. All that stale air, moving, so heavy I can almost taste it. My sweaty fingers are slipping on the shotgun's trigger. I've never fired it, but how hard could it be? Better to screw up using it the first time, than be eaten by whatever mutant freak is waiting for me out there. \nI don't think my hands should be shaking this much, though. \nI can hear the alarms now. Its thirty years too early to open the doors, but its not like I have a choice. Two years of rationing and living half starved, staring at my meager supplies. Whatever time to confront the wreckage of our society. I remember the radio broadcasts in the last few days before the electricity gave out. \nSudden silence. The doors are open. \nIts now or never. \nI start walking towards the opening in the wall, the dim red lights strobing. I touch the door and look down the long hallway. I remember coming in. One last set of doors and then glorious sunshine. I could look forward to that at least. \nI start walking down the hallway, one hand sliding against the cold concrete wall. Now or never. Now or never.\nI'm at the door and I reach out, not daring to touch. Touching confirms that this is real. That I am* going out there. \n\"Oh God...\" I whisper. I don't want to die.\nA sudden urge seizes me, and I bent over to the size, vomiting. Well, trying to vomit. After dry heaving for what feels like a year, I realize I'm kneeling on the floor crying. I don't want to die. \nNow or never. \nIt doesn't matter, I'm going to die. This realization stuns me, but I know its true. Whatever I find out there will probably be poison by now. \nI stand quickly and push against the door in one swift motion. I have to do this, or I'll starve to death in this hell. I push harder and harder, trying to still the sniffling. Now or never now or never now or- \nThe door bangs open and I fall outside, to my knees. I'm weeping freely now. I had had an image in my head of the moment when I leave the bunker. Stumbling out, blinking at the sunlight, saying something profound about how I will get to see one more sunset. I had almost looked forward to this, for that glorious moment. \nI look up. \nClouds as far as I can see. Oh right. Nuclear winter. There won't be any sunshine for a long time.\n\n---\nEdit: My first story, please be gentle :)", "Starvation wasn’t killing me. Neither was the slow, inexorable seeping of radiation between the door seals. I mean, yes it was killing me, but in that far off way that bumming a few smokes at a party, or eating too much red meat would kill you. No- what was killing me was the soft “rat tat tat tat tat” of the air filter’s fan. It broke 10... or 11... I’m not sure anymore but it feels like it was halfway ago. I fixed it, but one of the blades is slightly bent and taps ever so lightly in the housing. Every day while I read, every sleep cycle when I try to sleep, “rat tat tat tat”.\n\nI made the decision to leave this place a few weeks ago when I did my monthly inventory and came up with 5 large cans of scalloped potatoes, a few tins of meat product, and the jar of cherries I’d been saving. Cherries were E’s favorite. She would come home from the store and pop them into her mouth while I unloaded the groceries. I could feel her with me in this small room. I can hear her midwestern accent echo off the cold concrete. “You won’t believe this huge woman at the store today. Like, seriously babe, she was crammed into one of those scooters and-” \n\nWe ended before the world did. She said that my obsession with building this place wasn’t healthy. Healthy for me, or for her. I held out hope for a little while. There was decent info coming across the radio- the endless EAS messages the first few weeks, and then local communities trying to band together, and then the hiss of static. I hadn’t turned on the radio in a while. Not since I broke into the booze, which was sometime near fixing the air filter’s fan, which was 10... or 11 months ago.\n\nThe scalloped potatoes are gone now. The only thing that remains is a tin of meat and the cherries. I hummed an Aerosmith song while I shaved my beard; happily looking forward to leaving what would have been my tomb. Death was certain, but at least I would be dying outside and under the sun. I eyed the intake grate for the air filter. Freedom was just around the corner.\n\nI packed some water and the cherries into a small bag and set them by the heavy door. I walked to the door and put my hands on the cool, gleaming wheel and turned. The oiled locks snicked into the foundation and I pulled it open. The light was bright like the WP that we would drop on those villages... blinding, searing light. The air was antiseptic and stinging. It was still foul with poison. Blinded, I backed into a wall and slowly slid down. Hundreds of needles were pricking my skin. The light started to dim and heavy, loamy curtains were drawn slowly across my vision. I fought to think of her. Cherries. The beat up volvo she drove. Our wedding night. It all played in slow motion and out of focus. And then, nothing.\n\n---\n\nThe phone rang as she was trying in vain to corral the small child. “Kevin, put down the toy and sit down in your chair and eat your snack!” The child squealed in delight at his new favorite game of getting mommy to chase him. She caught the phone on the seventh ring. “Yes?” she spat, annoyed. The brusque greeting caught the person on the other end off guard. “Ah, yes. Ah, Miss Kenner please.”\n“Speaking?”\n“Hi Elizabeth, this is Doctor Jackson with the New Foundations Treatment Center. I wanted to give you a progress report on Paul.”\n \nShe sat down and watched her child play with his snack, no longer amused by his mother.\n\n“How is he?”\n\nThere was a long pause on the other end of the phone. “The head injuries your husband suffered in battle, combined with the PTSD... Listen Elizabeth I’m going to be honest with you. Paul is still delusional and suffering from vivid hallucinations. We’re treating it with a variety of medicines and therapies.” There was another pause “We’re better off than we were 2 years ago, but I wanted to discuss with you today some longer term care options at our sister facility.”\n\nThe sun shone brightly through the blinds as her child continued to poke at the bowl of sticky red cherries.", "The last can. I've eaten the contents of the others. Hell, I licked them clean. This was the last one. Every jar of preserved fruit I savored, every grain of rice I chased from the edges of my bowl, and not a single pea went to waste. \n\nFor two years I've rationed my food carefully, I cooked with as much recycled water as possible to extend the food supply. I could feel my intestines begin to shrivel for want of solid food. I haven't opened a new waste receptacle in months. All for nothing, as I was holding the last mystery can in my hand.\n\n\"End of the line for me, I guess,\" I said to nobody in particular. Since the bombs started falling I've been completely alone in this tiny hole, with nothing but my thoughts to keep me company. \n\nThe radio has been silent for months; there's nobody left to talk to. It tore me apart to hear the last transmissions of people keeling over with hunger or thirst. The worst part was listening to the screams of people who had ventured outside only to return and die of radiation poisoning. They had no morphine, nothing to ease the pain, and there was no way I could help them.\n\nI had plenty of water; I invested in a 'still before the bombs fell to complete this weekend-getaway/survivalist's money pit, and I stocked hundreds of gallons of water beforehand. I just never expected to be down here this long.\n\nI gathered my go bag with a shotgun, 100 shells, a change of clothes, 3 pairs of socks, a sleeping bag and pad, a tarp, two knives, two gallons of water, a mess kit, and one can of food. I laced up my boots and stared at the door for a couple of hours, shotgun in my lap and backpack by my side. I fell asleep at one point, only to wake up to a pair of cold, wet pants.\n\nI took a shower for the first time in months. I avoided them because I did not like watching myself waste away. I was a skinny guy before all this happened, and the past 2 years did not go well for me. I cleaned that brown and red goo off of me, dried off and suited up again. After staring at that door for another couple of hours, I took a deep breath and started up the ladder.\n\nMy muscles were not what they used to be, and I struggled against atrophy and rust, but with one final effort I felt it move. My exhaustion was replaced by frenzied determination as I shifted the wheel one inch at a time until it would not move any more.\n\nWith all of my remaining strength I pushed up, and I was greeted by a faint glow from outside. I smelled the fresh air from outside, and I nearly stopped when I felt a cool breeze on my face!\n\nI clambered up the hole and onto the rocky ground that surrounded my shelter. I was to busy breathing that fresh air to care about radiation. My weak eyes struggled to see objects more than a few feet in front of me, so I sat down on a rock until the world became clear, and lit a cigarette.\n\nMy first smoke in two years. The buzz, the head rush, the euphoria! The smoke filled my lungs and the nicotine raced into my bloodstream. As the cigarette burned down and my head cleared, I began to see the world around me. \n\nTwilight was coming up behind, between the mountains. Soon the sun would break through and light up the land below me. The hills and farms of the Shenandoah valley were empty and overgrown. The trees around me were beginning to green; the first sign of spring! Above me the sky became a lighter blue and I heard birds chirping in the woods around me. Overhead, a hawk circled in search of food.\n\nI clumsily stood and breathed it all in. I did not care to open my geiger counter and check the area, I did not care If I would be dead tomorrow; I overcame all the obstacles and survived to make it to that moment.\n\nI took my last can of food in my hand and got to work on it with the can opener, looking out to the promising valley below. Finally it opened; I tossed the lid and took a spoonful.\n\nBeef and vegetable Chunky. Everything was going to be all right. ", "Two long, cold and lonely years. \n\nTwo long years of living underground. Pale itchy skin. \n\nTwo years of doing things I never thought possible. \n\nI couldn't take it anymore. I had to risk venturing outside. I needed something else. Some other form of nutrition. \n\nMy entire family was now gone. \n\nI simply cannot handle one more bite of human flesh. \n\n\n\n\n", "The world is a desolate place now. Four hundred and seventy one days ago, the first nuclear bomb was launched. I know we shot the first one into the sky. The wars had been going on for years and we were losing life after life trying to bring home a victory. \n\nThe worst was yet to come. Recounting World War Two, we were the only ones with missiles capable of completely eradicating cities of life. Unfortunately for us, we forgot how other countries had developed these capabilities as well. Our political leaders came to the conclusion that our enemies would disappear into the shadows once we decided to hurl these missiles towards them was the polar opposite of what would happen next. The world was sent into darkness. Explosions lit up the sky, parallel to a second sun in the sky. No one could see the first sun though. Clouds filed the air as if all of the molecules in the world had transformed from a clear color to a harsh grey. Life on earth was at an end. \n\t\nToday is day 472 of living in bunker 27. Our government moved small groups of people into the bunkers, just in case that worst would happen. We all knew the worst would happen. No one wanted to admit it, but we all knew the consequences of firing those creations from hell into the air. Luckily for me, I was one of the few that won the lottery to make in into the bunker. I love that we were the ones that started the bombing, the ones that knew that we should move into the bunkers because the world was about to be leveled like a dilapidated apartment complex. \nI remember watching a couple during the drawing of the names; I watched the young wife’s name being displayed on the large monitor in front of the crowd. She fell down on to her knees and began to pray to a god that did not seem to exist right now, but what else could she do? Everyone was looking for comfort in any way possible, considering the next few days could be their last. She felt blessed by a supernatural being, the same that brought this destruction to us. The next name was mine. Before my name was called, I remember hearing through the announcements that this would be the final drawing. A total of twenty five survivors would be chosen and due to time restrictions, adjustments could not be made and spots could not be given to others. Those that were chosen were moved to the bunkers immediately to guarantee their survival. I remember watching that same woman that had been called prior to my name being called; she was still on the ground. Her husband had joined her and I saw tears running down both of their faces as this was their last goodbye. Knowing that when those heavy, steel doors closed, they would never see each other again. \n\nI am one of the few that made it through the night of bombings, and explosions, and widespread death throughout the world. Thinking back, all of this could be avoided; however, there were some that were too stubborn to admit their mistakes. Political leaders set with ideas that they believed beneficial for the rest of the world, but turned out not to be so beneficial after all. The idea that other countries could be so wicked led to the bombings of innocent lives, truly trying to make a difference in their own communities. We couldn’t believe them when they said they were focusing on nuclear energy rather than trying to destroy us. It is truly a shame that this beautiful earth has been destroyed. \nThe worst has yet to come for us in the bunker. Food is beginning to run out, clothes are tattered. I miss the world that we used to live in. There is panic as many are beginning to just count down the days until they die. I know we all are going to die soon as food was only going to be stocked for a short period of time. At least they cared about us. Sending us into the bunker to wait for our deaths. I would have rather disappeared from this earth quickly rather than lose a pound of weight per day until I weigh the same as the small sack of food we have left. \nI miss the world that I lived in, and I am going to go explore it once more. The others in the bunker believe that I am going on a suicide mission. I believe that to be true as well. However, staying inside the bunker is a suicide mission in itself. Some believe that food will be restocked; however, I know otherwise. Food has not been restocked before, why will that change when we truly are on our last legs? We have needed supplies before and nothing has come. I have told everyone my plan is to depart the bunker at noon, it is currently nine in the morning.\n\nThe time has come for me to depart into the world. The other survivors consider me a fool. I am not bothered by their words. There are a few that pray for me to survive more than a day in the harsh radiation. As I move towards the steel doors, I prepare to see a world that I have not seen in many days. I recount the gorgeous scenery that I had once known rather than the cold grays and blacks that surround me. I anticipate seeing what the world has in store.\nThe light is blinding as I move out of safety and into the wild. No one but me knows what is out here. I’m moving slow, I do not want to miss a single object. There is not much color here. There is light, a blinding white light piercing the earth from the faraway sun. There is not much built anymore. I look out on to the horizon. What I used to see was every color on the color wheel. I could see magenta buildings, and rose red rooftops, and the blue sky above. Now there is grey and black. The monstrous skyscrapers appear as if they are seeping into the ground. They are not the magnificent structures that man had been able to assemble in months. Now they appear as if they themselves have been through a war, a brutal war that has left them cold and tired. There is no life here. \n\nI walk the streets that I used to walk every day. They are not streets anymore, but broken bits of granite. I remember walking past people of every class and age. I recount meeting those that had made it all in the world and those that had lost all of their worldly possessions. It is truly horrifying to think that every person that I have met has disappeared, simply vanished into thin air like a magic trick gone wrong. It is like the magician had removed those people and forgotten how to bring them back. \n\nI feel parched and have only been out for roughly an hour. I take it that this is not a good sign of my health. I feel extremely weak and exhausted by the simplest of tasks. My body feels gray, like the world surrounding me. I am mortified by the world around me but have little to do with it. I feel as if I am an audience member to a horrific show. I cannot do anything but watch and let the memory of the show slip away. I do not bother looking any longer. The walls of the bunker, my prison, have led me to an even larger prison, the prison of the world. The gray walls and the harsh blacks leave me with no emotion. Sure, the sun is shining, but that does not help the depression caused by the desolate world. \n\nI assume the radiation is beginning to affect me. I am beginning to feel extremely tired. Maybe it is not the radiation. Maybe my exhaustion is cause by the lack of emotion in the place that I am in. I do not know what to think. All that I can think is that at least I have experienced the world rather than stay inside and wait for my death.\n\nI’ve decided to take a nap. I am going to go to sleep and dream of the world that I have experienced prior to the world being painted by a god filled with depression. The grays and blacks will soon be replaced by the vibrant colors in my dreams. I know that I will not be able to survive the night in this place with the large amounts of radiation; however, I will pass with the memories of a beautiful world, rather than one filled with gray and black. \n", "I was dying. I could feel it. \n\nMankind had nuked itself into oblivion. I was the only surviver, trapped in a bunker. It sustained me two years, allowing to live even comfortably. \n\nBut I ran out of supplies, as was inevitable.\n\nI decided to get a last glimpse of the world above, before I died.\n\nThat was the single best decision I'd ever make.\n\nWho'd have thought! The world was alive! People were out and about, as if nothing had happened two years ago. After getting over my initial shock, I was hysterical with glee. \n\nThe city lights! The honking cars! I took a deep breath in - ahhhhhhhh! Even the city stench was there! Incredible! How was I missing out on all this? I walked around like a madman, taking in the sights, the smells, the sounds. Oh God!\n\nI stopped short, catching a whiff of something. Was that--? Fries!??? \n\nI ran like crazy, following my nose. Two years! It's been two friggin' years! Finally, I get to have a taste of that sweet awesomness.\n\nBut I tripped.\n\nFell.\n\nTumbled over.\n\nAnd as I lay on the ground, the sweet smell of food was replaced by the rancid smell of rot. My vision cleared, allowing me to see the true state of the world - dark, broken, empty. \n\nDead.\n\nI rolled over onto my back, staring into the purple-grey haze that should have been the sky.\n\nOf course, it was too good to be true. I shut my eyes in despair; a tear rolled sideways down my face.\n\nAnd I waited for death's icy grip." ]	12
	[WP] You are a member of a sentient, non space-faring species on a far away planet. One day, a human made satellite is put into your planet's orbit.	[ "After a week the sirens were finally silenced. Most had left the information centers. For now there was very little new news to be had. The object that had been spotted careening towards the planet a week ago had stopped short just above the atmosphere and had gone into orbit. Scientists were infuriated, politicians were elated, the public was terrified. So far nothing was known. Aseen Bewar, renound questioner (scientist) of the districts had surmised that the only way to learn more about this alien object would be to visit it, though no one knew how this was possible. Father even said that moving among the stars was impossible. Generations past could remember the almost comical attempts at launching people into the sky with great contraptions made of elastic straps, and before that, the attempts to create wings out of paper and sticks to fly like the birds. \n\nJessop Suaza, not wishing to appear weak in the face of the upcoming election, surmised that the object must be destroyed. \"We have no way of knowing the purpose of this rock that now encircles our planet like a noose, but we have no reason to respect where it has come from by letting it remain there. We have given no permission, and have no reason to allow such trespasses.\" These were strong words that rallied the tribes but it was irrelevant. How could one destroy something they could not reach, nor throw something far enough to hit. Besides, no one could yet explain how the object managed to stay up there without falling, or at least coming down to rest once in awhile. It all seemed beyond explanation. Questioners were still bewildered they had managed to detect the object by our radio waves bouncing off of it as it approached. This was no doubt a break through of our time, sadly, sullied by the questions that arose soon after. What is this thing, where does it come from, what does it do, what will happen when it hits! But it never did touch down, it just stopped. They say they know how far away it is. 300 miles or something like that. They say if you look up at the right spot at the right time at night you can even see it, but I have a hard time believing that. I have never seen something that is 300 miles away before, but I hardly seem like the type of person to be making speculations these days.\n\nFor now, I am happy that the sirens have stopped. The air tingles with anticipation, like the ground has a heart beat and it has just quickened. Big things are happening, things above us all. It is easy to run to the loudest voice but the people are far too skeptical. At least I am. I hope there is new news soon.", "“Sir. Sir,” yelled Oaraki.\n\nHanpu sighed and looked up from the paperwork he was reading. “What is it?”\n\nOaraki rested against the doorway, panting. “Something came from space. We picked it up with our telescopes.”\n\nHanpu took his glasses off his primary eyes. “What are you talking about?”\n\nOaraki put a set of pictures down on Hanpu’s desk. “One of the graduate students examined pictures we took last month.” He tapped a small dot. “She found this.”\n\nHanpu put his glasses back on to look at the pictures. “Have you verified what it is?”\n\n“We figured out its orbit and trained out telescopes on its path,” Oaraki said. “With our more powerful ‘scopes we picked up its shape.” \n\nHanpu shuffled the photos. “Did the Kovicks launch a satellite before us?”\n\n“No, sir. We have no information that says they did, but we ‘d be fools to think that they didn’t see this as well.”\n\nHanpu took his glasses off again and leaned back in his chair. He stroked his mandibles with his upper set of arms and crossed his lower set over his abdomen. “No one else has the technology to do this?”\n\nOaraki shook his head. “No. The Chorminanstri are a decade behind us and the Kovicks.”\n\nHanpu’s side eyes darted around the room as his primary eyes focused on Oaraki. “Are you saying that this is of extraterrestrial origin?”\n\nOaraki nodded. “It is of a design that we have never seen before. It is of a size and shape that is currently beyond our technology.”\n\n“Who else knows about this?”\n\n“Just us and the graduate student.”\n\nHanpu nodded. “We need to keep this quiet. As few people that know this the better. We can assume the Kovicks have seen it. Maybe even the Chorminanstri. Contact the Defense Department. Get General Frattelon. Tell him everything we know so far. Maybe we can reverse engineer this somehow.”\n\nOaraki nodded. “What about the graduate student?”\n\n“Find her. Find her now. Make sure she hasn’t said anything.” Hanpu threw his upper hands into the air. “Who am I kidding? She probably has been blabbing this to all her girlfriends.”\n\n“So what do I do?”\n\n“Call Frattelon. Get that graduate student back here. Frattelon will start us down the right path.”\n\n“What happens if people in the public find out?” said Oaraki.\n\n“The Kovicks will use this information if we don’t. Letting the public know is secondary.” Hanpu began to get more agitated. “The public doesn’t understand the things we know. If they knew about this they’d freak out. We can’t let this get out. We have to use it to our advantage.”\n\nOaraki nodded and turned to leave.\n\n “Oaraki?” said Hanpu. “This could make our careers. Do exactly as I say. We can’t let this get ahead of us.”\n\nOaraki nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll get right on it.”\n", "We had studied the stars for generations. One day we noticed a shooting star that never fell, wrapping around and around our planet everynight. The wise men heralded it as the beginning of a new age. How right they'd been.\n\nWhen it landed we gathered around it. These sleek black lines and smooth surfaces could only have come from god.\n\nOne emerged, it's body was white, on two legs, with one black eye staring out at us. It symboled our symbol for peace. It knew our language, our customs. We welcomed them with curiosity and awe.\n\nFirst they cured our illnesses and studied us. They studied the planet, what we eat, what else lives.\n\nThey taught us how to process our resources into materials, introduced us to money. We then had to pay for medical services and the magical goods they brought.\n\nWe willingly sold our water, processed our nature and sold it. They put it on their ships and brought their magic back.\n\nOur environment began to degrade and we decided to organize an ambush. It was slaughter, our people stood no chance. From that day everything changed.\n\nNow I sit here in this camp looking at hatrid at the one eyed creatures. One day we will have our revenge.", "I tucked myself under my animal skin blanket and glanced over at the campfire. I made sure it was completely out before settling my mind for the night. Today was a good day. I glanced over at the two animal kills with my spear still sticking out of the last one. My village would eat well this week. Hopefully I'd be respected enough that i could get my pick of mate. There was this girl in the neighboring village i had my eye on for awhile. The elder could easily arrange for us to marry but i wanted to win her over, impress her. I wanted her to love me and not just feel she had a duty to the tribe. Being the best hunter in this region would do that. But what if it didn't? what if she wanted more? I wondered what i else i could do. A good hunter was very well respected but explorers were revered as well. Finding new hunting grounds would surely make me the envy of all the tribes. But where would i go? my brother and i searched for new grounds to the south a couple of years back but never found any. The world is very large. I needed a direction, a starting place.\n\nI glanced at the sky as the stars stared down at me. The gods were beautiful tonight. I wondered what they did up there, all moving eastward but always remaining equidistant from each other. Occasionally i would see a god star shoot across the sky. It would glow brightly and then vanish again. Was it too searching for a new hunting ground? Maybe like me it wanted to impress another god.\n\nI then noticed a very dim and slow moving star make its way across the sky. This was very odd. Most stars shoot and vanish, but this was moving much too slowly to be one of them. But at the same time it was moving faster than all the other stars and not remaining in a fixed position relative to them. I was intrigued. I followed the star with my eye for several minutes. It inexorably moved northwest. What was it doing? Why would a god move so slowly? Then it hit me, it was searching for something. I glanced northwest to the distant hills. Hunting was bad there so we never explored it much. As the god kept moving i wondered what it could want. Was there something wondrous there? or did it lose something? Was it an explorer? I remembered the legends where a mortal assisted a god and was granted favor. Maybe if i could help find what this god was looking for I could also get favor. I knew what i wanted, I wanted the village girl to love me. I glanced back at the god again and strained to follow it against the much brighter gods around it. Was it sick? was it lame? My heart went out to it as i thought about a villager with a bad leg. He could not hunt, he could not build, his life was difficult. But he became an explorer and left the village for three full years. We thought he had perished but he was ever determined to prove himself. He returned with stories of distant lands and treasures beyond description. He brought back colored rocks and pottery from those lands to prove he had been there. He earned his place among the tribe. I wondered if this god star was the same. So dim that it was lame, but determined to slowly find its destiny. A tear came to my eye in admiration for its struggle.\n\nAs the god star disappeared below the northwest horizon i vowed to go explore there." ]	4
	[WP] Zombie apocalypse! Some one discovers that Zombie meat isn't actually infectious when cooked and is also DAMNED tasty.	[ "Hnnnng..\n\nZombies again. They were always out there, staring through the holes in the reinforced fencing and moaning. It sounded vaguely human in a way, just enough to remind you that rotting lump of flesh used to be a somewhat more pleasant individual. They were sociable enough among their own kind though-- kind of like bees. They had their own little system of communication, and when one found humans it would limp off to tell its colony and return with more. If you waited long enough the whole group would show up, and might even start fighting with other colonies in a sort of pathetic flailing contest.\n\nWe had prepared, though. The last bastions of humankind, the tinfoil hatters and the weirdos of the new age-- the only ones who were actually prepared when the retrovirus escaped the high-security labs and found its way into local aquifers. Those who knew the signs survived for at while. Eventually they all gave in, sometimes willingly. Loneliness is a powerful motivator, and the welcoming arms of a zombie colony is pretty enticing compared to the accusing words of an empty room.\n\nWhat we didn’t expect was what the zombies ate. Like many other survivors, we had camped out in the mountains; unlike many others we had ensured a secure area to farm. These farms were what drew the zombies to the bars-- the fuckers had an absolutely insatiable desire for potatoes.\nHow do I know this?\n\nLast week, one managed to find a way through our fence and tore up our meager field before passing out into a food coma. Standard zombie protocol is fire, and roasting an unconscious zombie is pretty easy. That’s when I found out another interesting thing:\nZombie fried potato is the best fucking thing that you've ever tasted. Better than lobster, better than a five-star meal from a world class chef. It’s not even contagious. Problem is, potatoes are how the retrovirus is cured.", "\"Jay, what's going on?\"\n\n\"Can't say.\" Jay turned, and seemed genuinely confused. \"Matty, did you hear anything about a film crew? I don't think this is real. It can't be. It's a prank...maybe?\" Matty came around to the window and looked outside their home, expecting some strangers in costume or a TV crew hauling one of those gigantic checks. \"Halloween coming soon? Angel dust in the water? Halley's Comet?\" Matty heard the quaver in Jay's voice, but wasn't processing the words. Out on the street was something...wrong.\n\n\"That's Mr. Runyon. And Selma, from around the corner. Whats-her-name from the Quick Shop...what're they...looking at? There's something on the ground.\"\n\n\"James. The 'nice mechanic'. He was moving...they aren't...looking...I saw...mind control? Am I hallucinating? Matty, what do you see?\"\n\n\"They're just-is that bloo-OH MY GOD THAT'S HIS ARM WHAT ARE THEY DOING?!\" Matty half-leapt, half-stumbled towards the door, but was stopped by Jay standing in front of it. The expression of terror, mixed with pity and confusion, was as startling as the sight of their shotgun in Jay's hands.\n\n\"I'm not a hero...you're not a hero. The police aren't answering, and we need to keep ourselves safe. Please stay with me. Let's just stay here.\"\n\n\"Jay, what is happening? What do you mean the police aren't answering? Did you do something with that? I'm scared, please-what happened? Was Selma...eating that arm?\" The last question hung improbably between them, needing to be answered, but too grotesque to fully grasp. Both turned their heads to reassess the scene in the street, but it was no easier to process what lay out there. This was not on TV, it was not preceded by a warning about viewer discretion, and these were people they knew.\n\nMatty spoke slowly, \"I'd feel better if I had our rifle right now.\" Jay nodded, and glanced out the window while sitting down to face the refrigerator. When Matty returned, Jay's expression had hardened into simple resignation. \"What do we do, Jay?\"\n\n\"What we always do: we look out for each other. It seems our neighbors are eating the mechanic. But nobody is going to eat us. If they come this way, we shoot; this isn't pretend, and they aren't deer. They are dangerous, deadly. If anything, we should treat them like bears-shoot to kill, anything less is our ass. Anyone that would eat someone else isn't human. They can't be human anymore.\"\n\nMatty took this in, looking out the window, and-finding no fault with the logic-nodded at Jay.\n\nNot long after, three 'bears', walking on two legs and wearing clothing, were put down in the yard. Shooting to kill was easier said than done, as they proved tough beasts. Initial jitters were calmed once the marauders were dispatched, and lessons learned from the encounter would serve the two well.\n\nMonths later, there weren't many questions left beyond \"Why?\" Days of bewilderment bled into weeks of shooting former townsfolk and looking out for each other. Beyond hearing occasional news reports of similar events in other places, there was no reassurance. Things broke down, and few people were left to gather. It became imperative to tell the eaters from real humans, and not just for protection. Resources were stretched thin; both bullets and food-which constituted Matty and Jay's new lives-were found to be precious. As each dwindled, replacements had to be found. Machetes, axes, and bows substituted for guns and bullets, but little could be done about food. Shelf-stable foods were used up, grocery stores were emptied, and freezers were no longer running. Despite being hunters, the residents that remained were left with no prey. The simplest solution often being the best, those that clung to life began to explore alternatives.\n\n\"You look like a possum that got run over, Matty. What are we going to do about that? We're down to the wire here.\" Jay looked out over the town from their vantage on a rooftop, not dissimilar in appearance. \"I heard Blanco say it tastes like a rich chorizo, and nobody's being hurt. We've been hunting these things for months and they're just laying around. Whatever they are, they don't rot and we haven't seen any other animals since this all began. What's the problem? They aren't what they were, we've been over this. We need to eat, there's no two ways about it.\"\n\nMatty just looked down, \"I wish there were, but I know you're right.\"\n\nFrom a different vantage point, just at the edge of what was once civilization, another conversation was going on.\n\n\"What do you say, is this one safe, Kay?\" The younger, uniformed one asked. The older, less crisply dressed person peered through the scope into the town they were sent to reconnoiter. The silence stretched as the elder gathered thoughts together. The junior member of the pair waited, as having spent the afternoon in the spot, a few more minutes didn't matter.\n\n\"Rabbit, I can't tell just from smell; we need to fully assess each target and report back to central with certainty. How many times have you been out? Hold. We have movement.\"\n\nBoth focussed on the area near the center of town, where people were gathering. There were a few corpses stacked near a building without a wall, making moving parts or whole bodies easier. The pair observed as two more entered the area, and bowls were handed around from the makeshift mess-hall.\n\nWhen Rabbit turned back, Kay's expression had hardened into resignation. \"What do we do, Kay?\"\n\n\"What we always do: we look out for one other. It seems our neighbors here are eating each other. But nobody is going to eat us. They are dangerous, deadly. But anyone that would eat someone else isn't human. They can't be human anymore.\"\n\nRabbit took this in, looking out on the town, and-finding no fault with the logic-nodded at Kay.", "It ended up that the zombie neuroviruses had infected all of us. They'd grown in our brains, benign, for as long as we'd been out of Africa. All it took is a mistake of a few genes in the virus to activate the thought pattern disorder that led to zombieism. It spread through mucus, and because of all the zombie media over the past few decades, we couldn't conceive of the cause. People began to choke on their own mucus, dying and then reviving miraculously a week later with a new core drive written into their thoughts--to kill and eat human flesh, especially the brains. They still had their programming from their once-life, and so they hid the urge, making societies and Web pages and organizations and eventually revolutionary fronts and armies and nations.\n\nThey ate us raw, or cooked. Conducting raids and kidnapping people to use as livestock, sometimes they would breed us and fatten us up, other times they would simply take us home and put us on the broiler. Zombie flesh did not appeal to them in the same way, though murderers in zombie countries would usually eat victims and executed criminals would be eaten.\n\nWe waged war against them. What else could we do? They were inconceivably brutal, much more ready to kill and die than any human. Eventually we reached a breaking point--as a gesture of hatred and defiance, a human, Gomail Brushk, orphaned by zombies at 6, took one of them, Chen Zuniga, and killed, cooked, and ate him on film. He streamed the act online to an audience of a few thousand, who saw his trembling hands carry the pistol he never used over the following week he spent locked and self-handcuffed in his room. Police, and then National Guardsmen, stood outside his cheap apartment complex, news covering the tears of his family and the world only watching the stream.", "(Be gentle guys, this is my first time here, and my first time writing since my english lessons many decades ago!)\n\nBlighttown. For a city with such a gloomy name, it is flourishing beyond reason. Especially at this time; time of famine and, well, blight.\n\nMany have heard of its tale. But who knows how true it is? This is the apocalypse after all. With it naturally comes the extinction of human civilisation. And guess what? Electricity is part of human civilisation. Without electricity there's no fire. God bless the guy who knows how to lit a fire around here.\n\nThe world has fallen, but not Blighttown. Blighttown boast abundance of food and protection. The hospital, the main attraction stood atop of a hill, a place promising a cure for the zombie infection. And with that hope, many attempted the journey there.\n\nJack was one such man. As ridiculous as trying to walk to a town of unknown location and unknown appearance, guided by word of mouth from dying men, Jack had little much choice. Only a nomadic life is viable nowadays, so he might as well walk in one general direction and continue hoping… right?\n\nAs he followed the river stream, Jack thought about how much easier surviving had been lately. His instinct sharpened and his limbs well toned; Jack would have been the alpha male, in a better time. However he also grumbled about how little exercise he got in the last few weeks; there had been much less zombies nowadays.\n\nThe world was almost too peaceful, so much so that if Jack closed his eye, he’d feel like he’s back in he comfort of his bedroom, as if all these had been a dream. So closed his eyes Jack did. And tumbled over dessicated zombie head, Jack did.\n\n“Yarrr,” Jack squealed. As instinct took over he stabbed the decapitated head between the eyes, Jack thought, “geez. I’m not a pirate. I need to think of a manlier scream.” Yes. Long periods of being alone would drive anyone balmy.\n\nStumbling could have been the best and worst thing that happened for Jack today. Lying down, he was now able to see a sizeable fortification atop of a hill he just passed. The word “Blighttown” written brightly in red on a large billboard near the entrance.\n\n“Who the heck thought of advertising a town’s name like that? It’s so cheezy, it made me think that I’m in a fictional world,” Jack spoke aloud. He grabbed what little he had, pulled out his dagger from the green slime, and realised that nobody speaks aloud alone so coherently unless they are in a movie. And that’s when he saw the bite marks.\n\nJack had learnt by now how to calm his nerve and rationalise the situation. He knew that zombie infection doesn’t technically spread by bites. It’s blood borne, so as long as he’s not bleedi… “oh fuck”\n\nWell, I told you earlier that stumbling may be the best thing that happened to Jack didn’t I? Jack did afterall find Blighttown, where he could get a cure! So after a good climb, Jack reached the fortification gate. “A fat guard! Now that’s a rare sight” as Jack lost consciousness.\n\nJack woke up to the sound of children laughing, “Mom, mom! We’re going to have a feast soon!” Thinking that he’s in his own bedroom awoken from a long bad dream for the second time, Jack sat up. He barely had enough time to think when he was greeted with a bowl of meatball soup. The best meatball soup he ever had. \n\nThe next hour was spent reacquainting Jack with humanity. ‘Mom’ had washed his wounds and clothes. As she gave him the second and third generous helping of the soup, she told Jack about the history of Blighttown; how like any other settlements arguments started when food became a commodity. And to cut a long story short, how they found out how delicious zombie meat was.\n\nWell rested, Jack now noticed how healthy the people around him were. 48 hour to the cure, he was told. Zombie symptoms only started in 24 hour, and he already had the treatment, he was told. Jack had never felt relief like this in a long time. He ate and slept like a merry man. Don’t worry, sleep well, you need to rest to get your body back and fat, they said. “And fat? I’ll pass. But I certainly wouldn’t mind putting on a bit of weight back…” Jack drifted off to sleep again.\n\nI also told you that stumbling may be the worst thing that happened to Jack today, right?\n\nAnd that was Jack’s last waking moments. Blighttown had another successful harvest, and its people kept what little conscience they have by killing him painlessly in his sleep.\n\nThis wasn’t a story on how a brave young man overcome all odds and survive the apocalypse. It’s just a simple tale on how a little settlement survives with rumours and half-lies.", "13/4/2023\n\nYesterday I turned 16 and this is my first day as an official grown-up.\n\nI thought it'd be all fun and games but no. Jack waked me up before sunrise and I've been learning all trades since. how to build traps, how to take care of the wounded, how to watch out for walkers, how to repair broken vehicles. I didn't like any of these. Just like any other 16 year old boy I like to shoot things! IT'S FUN AS HELL! I've been learning to shoot since I was 10 but outside target practice I'm not allowed to have a gun. Maybe that'll change now...\n\nAs I'm writing this is about 3 in the afternoon and now I got to go help grandma with dinner, another great task to do today...\n\n\n\n14/4/2023\n\nYesterday's dinner was a blast.\n\nWhen I arrived at grandma's kitchen, she had a big smurk smile on her face. She handed me a backpack, a knife and a gun and happily said \"Let's go get dinner!\". In no time we were heading outside camp, into the forest. Grandma was an old caring lady with 70 or so years of old but she could be pretty tough if the situation called for it.\n\nAn hour or so later, already in the deep woods, she told me what we were there to do exactly: hunting to get the meat for nanny's good old chowder; a stew of dark meat, some vegetables and rice. It was ABSOLUTELY AMAZING! The catch was that nobody knew the recipe besides granny herself. The vegetables and the rice grew in nearby farms but I never knew where the meat came from, I have never seen any livestock farms...\n\nAfter some time searching, we didn't find any prey so we split up. I went fishing in a nearby river and grandma went looking for roots and fruits to provide an alternative dinner since there would be no chowder tonight. Any fish would be better than roasted squirrel or canned food.\n\nFishing is REALLY REALLY BORING but, truth be said, better bored than hungry, so when i was just about to give up I caught two salmons by myself! My biggest catch ever! Each one was about half a meter and looked DELICIOUS! Happy with my catch I returned to camp, hoping to arrive earlier than grandma and make her a surprise.\n\nMy hope was gone when, as i arrived at the camp, I saw smoke coming from the kitchen chimney. When I entered the kitchen, she had that smurk smile on her face again and handed me a bag of leather, dripping blood. \"She got meat!\" I thought to myself between a mix of enthusiasm and disappointment. The meat was stiff, bloody and stank a bit but I knew that in the stew it would taste perfect!\n\nCouple of hours of cooking and the stew was ready to eat and a big dinner table was set up for everyone in the center of the camp. Every one came and ate and laughed, the stew was MARVELOUS but I still don't know where that meat came from...", "Origins of Zombie Cuisine\n\nThe outbreak of the Living Death in the mid-1300s is considered a turning point in the world for many reasons. Most historians tend to focus on the shattering of the Byzantine Empire, the reinvigoration of the Mongol Khaans, a new era of death cults, and the rise of the middle class as the most important effects, but most people tend to overlook the social revolution that took place in the kitchen. \n\nThe Undead first attacked and greatly disrupted the agricultural cycle on which most of Europe was crucially dependent on. The first people to eat zombie meat probably did so out of desperation. Consider what it would be like to only be aware that the world was ending and the only thing to eat might be that zombie you were lucky enough to kill. Would you rather starve, having survived all this time? Many did. Some historians estimate that the vast majority of Europe's survivors did so by consuming zombie meat at least once during the conflict. The Papal condemnation of the shockingly delicious meat led to the rise of a number of Christian-based death cults with their own Popes, rituals, and even certain sacraments that required the consumption of undead flesh. These sacraments have been (erm... are) simple: a piece of dried zombie jerky for communion, but a fresh piece of roasted flesh - usually the muscles of the arms, legs, or posterior - for proper conversion. Though hardly a recipe, the Annals of the Resurrection contain the first literary reference to zombie consumption in the West. \n\nActual zombie cuisine wouldn't enter literary memory until the turn of hte century with the rise of the middle class. England had thrown itself full force into the Church of the Penitent started by John Wycliffe. The Lollards didn't use zombie meat in their sacraments, but it was not prohibited from regular consumption. The Wycliffites believed that no sin was committed since the dead were gone, and their bodies already risen. This led to the wealthy - who could afford zombie meat which became a delicacy in the late 1300s - exodus from Catholicism so they could enjoy their undead feast in religious peace. \n\nThis is mentioned in the introduction to the Cook's Tale in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales: \n\n>No, sirs, I do not wrestle with the unhuman beasts\n>I merely boil, and roast, and prepare the meat\n>Leave that task for the butcher! \n(translated from the Middle English by Tygett Kohansky) \n\nAfter the exploration age began, the Europeans were curious to find the other civilization of the world and how they dealt with the zombie problem. Some Pacific tribes accepted zombiism as a matter of fate and consumed infected corpses raw. When James Cook showed the Hawaiians that you could apply heat to a zombie's flesh and make a tasty meal, the Hawaiians hailed him as a god of cuisine. The Hawaiians began to pair zombie meat with fish sauces, roasted taro, and fruits. In China and the Spice Isles, the locals heavily spiced their zombie meat which became popular all across Europe paired with the lucrative spice trade itself. \n\nJonathan Swift converted to Catholicism as a mid-18th Century reaction against zombie consumption. Swift would go on to write scathing satire about the English consumption of zombies in A Modest Proposal suggesting that England solve its problem with the impoverished and unlucky in the Empire (\"such as the Irish,\" he wrote) and simply force feed them in collection camps...\n\n>This will fatten the Irish and unlucky and make them perfect for eventual slaughter and consumption. Imagine the new recipes that would result as a matter of course. Any moral asides Papism may protest towards would be unnecessary. One only needs to be concerned about his conscience when eating a loved one or relative is at risk. But the Irish and poor are of little concern. Any happiness or feelings of joy the poverty-stricken might feel at finally being fed after years of starvation is only a side-effect of the true solution to England's zombie meat shortage. \n\nThe first anti-zombie meat legislation passed in 1799, many point to Swift's successors at working hard for the abolition of the delicious (some say addictive) meat. Though anti-zombie meat legislation is considered a hallmark of civilized society, there are still many countries in the world where zombie consumption is openly practiced. And even in the western world, zombie meat is eaten quite often in secret in underground zeek-easies. Only a few fringe groups seek the end of zombie prohibition, with their numbers fluctuating every few decades or so. Demographers have yet to determine precisely why. ", "They heard them already scratching the glass, doing whatever they could to break in. They knew that it was the last moments we would be spending together, there were too many of them, they could never make it out together.\n\nEvery second that passes by they hear the glass break a little more, as they growl at us, ready to dig into our human flesh.\n\n\"John, what are you doing?\" his wife Mary asked\n\n\"When they break in, ill distract them, you run, don't stop until your safe. Find somewhere and take care of yourself.\"\n\nThe glass was about to crack and tears were in both of their eyes.\n\nCRACK\n\nThey're in, and they're going after John. Mary ran out completely unscathed but decides to turn around, in the corner there is a little fire. They don't know who started it, but the zombies have left John and are going towards it. John, still wanting to be the badass hero to his wife, starts hitting the zombies into the fire, which is rapidly growing.\n\n\"WAIT BABE!\" John exlcaims \"Do you smell that? It kind of smells... good.\"\n\nMary says \"Oh God, are you serious?\" as she runs back to him and the pile of burning corpses.\n\nUnlike anything Mary has seen before, her husband starts gnawing in on this zombies arm. With \"infected\" meat still in his mouth and chewing, he says shes gotta try some.\n\nShe is concerned that he will turn into one of them, so she waited for him to keep eating, after nothing really happened, she decides to join him.\n\n\"This is the best thing we've had since shit hit the fan\" they agreed\n\nAs more zombies keep coming towards this burning pile of bodies, the couple kept throwing them on.\n\nJust when these zombies thought they were the ones going cannibalistic, they soon realized, they were wrong.\n\nEdit: fixed one of the first few sentences, had \"we\" instead of \"they\"\n\nEdit 2: \"take care of yourself\"\n", "\"Strange.\" Joseph had said aloud to himself, staring at the roaring fire in front of him.\n\nIt was the dead of night. The sky was like a sea of black and blue, sprinkled with the white foam of stars. Light illuminated the ground from the sickly yellow moon way above. A blazing flame ran and swayed on a long, dried piece of rotting wood. Red and orange twisted and turned in their hot, passionate dance.\n\nA man sat on a cold stone before the inferno. One hand steadied a thin, yellow notepad on his leg as it held an old, ink-filled pen. The other one held a long, iron stick. Rusty as it was, its end was chipped and pointed, sharp enough to pierce through flesh and bone if one desired.\n\nAnd Joseph had desired. A sickly green head was impaled at the end. The face on it had shown a look of madness, driven on by a demented hunger. The skin peeled and turned black once the hot flames kissed the zombie's flesh. The man continued to stare at the head with a blank stare, his hand moving to jot down a few scribbles.\n\n[Trial of 1/4. New Year has passed. Food supply running low. Fruit has gone rotten. Water has not been found since 1/2. Suspected drought.]\n\nHe drew the metal rod away from the fire. The end glowed a bright orange as the head was smoking. An odd, delightful musk came from the zombie, resembling that of roasted pork with plenty of greasy fat. Filling enough for any starving man, if prepare correctly.\n\n[Beginning taste trial of green meat.]\n\nHe jotted down while placing his mouth on the head, biting off the ear. Dried blood turned to liquid as his spit and slobber made contact. His teeth grounded the skin to mush as he continued to chew, slowly in order to take in the flavor. His belly and throat filled with warm as he took a swallow.\n\n[More than adequate. Similar to canned meat, but fresher. More satisfying.]\n\nHis eyes lit up with the sweat, savory taste of meat, the first he's had since the early winter. For nearly an hour, he just sat there, throwing his notebook aside and just gnawing at the head. Scraps of hair and skin fell to the ground as he satisfied his hunger, blood staining his face. \n\nWith a quiet belch, he got up and stomped out the fire. He picked up his notebook and stowed it away. Picking up the metal stick, he jabbed at the limbs of the corpse nearby. Cutting off a hand and two feet, he neatly tucked the spoils away in his sack, already filled with an empty canteen and cans of dried fruits and vegetables. His feet, covered by an torn-up shoe, dragged him through the cold, hard dirt of the earth below.\n\n\"Requires more analysis. Cannibalism seems offensive to group. Should keep secret. Continue to test for contamination. Keep group healthy. Must make additions to list. Now require matches and clean knives.\"\n\n", "The only thing we hadn’t run out of was zombies. Fuckers just kept on coming. We cleared them out; they’d come back the next season. We moved somewhere else; they’d find us a short time later. We tried growing food; they’d trample the defenses and ruin our crops.\n\nWe’d come to our wits end. Food became scarcer to find. Our group had pretty much given up on scavenging ruins. It wasn’t worth the effort to find one or two cans of food. \n\nMembers of our group began to drift away over the months. Some thought they could do better striking out on our own. Others didn’t agree with our policies. A couple of people just wandered off into the night never to be seen again. \n\nThree years after the initial outbreak we were down to just five members. Winter seemed to have set in early this year. Frost coated almost everything. The leaves crunched underfoot. \n\nWe came out of the forest and into a clearing. Sitting in the middle, surrounded by trenches lined with sharpened stakes and barbed wire fence, was a large farmhouse. Towards the back of the grounds stood a large barn with a corral. Smoke trailed out of the farmhouse chimney.\n\n“Do you think we should contact them?” said Mabel.\n\n“The lights are on. It doesn’t look too dangerous,” said Jason.\n\n“Doesn’t have to look dangerous to be dangerous,” I said.\n\n“We see you. The five of you come out into the open,” yelled someone from inside the compound.\n\nOur group hesitated. Something rustled behind us. A shotgun racked. “Hands up. No sudden movements. Start marching,” said a man.\n\nWe marched to the front gate where a man and a woman met us. The woman kept her gun trained on us as the second man patted us down and searched our bags. “They’re clean. “\n\nThey led us through the gates and into the compound. “Are you hungry?” asked the woman.\n\nI looked at the rest of the group. Every one of them looked so gaunt and frail. “Yes. We could use a meal.”\n\nShe motioned for us to follow. “We need to keep on our toes. This could be a trap. They’ve got the upper hand in all of this,” whispered Jason.\n\nThe woman motioned for us to sit down at a long picnic table. “My name’s Hilary. You’ve already met Stan and Evan. There are twelve of us.” Stan came out and set out bowls of food. “Please eat. It’s fresh stew. Made this morning.”\n\nWe sat down around the table. I looked at the stew. Chunks of meat, potatoes, carrots and onions floated in the broth. It smelled delicious. “How many of you are there?” I said.\n\n“Twelve total. We’re stretched pretty thin but make it work. We are always looking for more people to join our group. We’ve been following you for the past couple of weeks,” said Hilary. \n\n“Weeks?” said Jason. \n\nHilary sat down at the head of the table and began to eat some stew. “We have two scouts. We wanted to make sure you would be valuable assets to our little community.\n\nNo one in our group was eating the stew. It looked so good. I decided to make a show of good faith. I took a bite of some of the stew. \n\nIt tasted so good. \n\nI began to eat faster and faster. I was so hungry. The vegetables were cooked just right. The meat was tender and fell apart. I almost licked the bowl clean. “This is so good. What is the meat? I can’t quite place it,” I said.\n\n“How can you just give away food like this?” said Jason.\n\n“We have a nearly limitless supply of meat. It comes from the forest. The vegetables we grow ourselves,” Hilary said.\n\n“Is it venison?” I said.\n\nStan came around and refilled our bowls. “Not deer. Something a little more unsavory.”\n\nMabel’s eyes opened wide. “Is it people?”\n\nHilary laughed. “No. No, it’s not.” She cleared her throat. “It’s zombie. We got desperate for food so one of us tried it. You have to cook it until it’s well done. Kills the virus I guess. We’ve all been eating it for over eight months and haven’t a single infection.”\n\nI looked down at my bowl with the bits of meat floating in it. I didn’t know what to say. I heard the others gagging. Jason threw up. \n\nWe had already eaten it. It tasted so good. Hilary and her group seemed so friendly. I’d like to stay here and settle down. If that meant eating zombie meat to survive so be it. I took another bite of stew and looked around at my new home. \n", "Herman Pike was doomed from the day he was born. His father was one of those in-and-out of prison types that was addicted to all sorts of chemicals. He also use to regularly beat Herman's mother who was an alcoholic waitress and part-time hooker. When Herman was five years old his parents were both arrested for purchasing meth from an undercover cop and the young boy was forced to live in a group home. \n\nAt the group home Herman was continually bullied by other children and sometimes the workers at the home. At age 11 he was molested by one of the older children but never told anybody out of fear of being outed as a homosexual. A year later Herman began capturing local dogs and cats and torturing them to death. His favorite torture method was to cut off all of the animals limbs then sew them shut and watch the animal try to slither away without and legs. \n\nWhen Herman was 13 the police found him in an ally trying to set a cat on fire and he was convicted of animal cruelty and sentenced to a juvenile facility until his 21st birthday. Like the group home, Herman became a target for all of the tougher and meaner kids. One kid in particular, Jobie, would constantly beat on Herman and threaten to rape him. Out of fear, Herman found Jobie alone on janitorial duty in the kitchen one day mopping the floors after breakfast. Herman grabbed a butcher's knife and repeatedly stabbed Jobie from behind in the lower back. In a rage of fury, Herman sawed off Jobie's hand and started to boil it. After a half hour, he removed the hand and began to eat it, ripping of pieces of raw human hand like it was a chicken wing. That was when Herman knew he liked the taste of flesh. \n\nAn Hour later a few guards found Herman and restrained him. He spent the next few weeks in solitary confinement until he was told that he would be awaiting trial for murder. \n\nAfter another week in solitary, the outbreak happened. Everything collapsed and Herman was free to walk out of solitary confinement because there wasn't anybody left to run the facility. A few guards unlocked everybody from the facility and when they got to Herman's cell they told him \"We figured you all would rather die fighting those monsters than starve to death.\" And so Herman was free. \n\nHerman had a lot of time to think about eating Jobie and how much he loved the taste and how badly he wanted to eat someone again and now he had the perfect opportunity. He thought that it was a gift from god. He felt the all the shit that made up his horrible life was worth it because god had showed him the beauty in eating another person and then gave him the means to do so within a week. \n\nAfter two weeks of surviving and searching, Herman finally found one. It limped and struggled with moving so it was easy for Herman to sneak behind it and bash it's head in with a rock. Within the hour Herman had sawed all of its limbs and started to roast them over an open fire he built on a nearby rooftop. He ate a whole arm that first night. He kept thinking that maybe he would get sick but he never did. He finished it's entire body in a week and never got sick. Every regular person he ran into was malnourished and week but Herman wasn't. He was bigger and stronger than most living people left and because his sick perversion he survived longer and longer. " ]	10
	[WP] One man's quest to find the television remote	[ "Brett comes home from work one day to a missing television remote and what would lead to be an adventure of epic proportion\n_________________________________________________________\n\nI slowly open the door to my apartment, tired as all hell, ripping off my work clothes leaving nothing on but my boxers.\n\nI let out a sigh of contentment as I turn on my PlayStation and get ready to relax with some gaming.\nI look to the coffee table where the t.v. remote usually resides and to very little surprise it is not there, not totally uncommon, though.\nA lot of the time my wife leaves it on the couch or I leave it in my chair, so I start doing a quick scan of the living room.\n\nI've only just begun my search for this tiny little device that we rely on so much, and I'm already panicking like I've lost my cellphone or my car keys.\nI check the chair, I check the floor, I check my computer desk, nothing.\n\n\"Alright\" I tell myself. \"Calm down, most of the time when I lose something it's a perspective thing, let's sit down on the floor and have a look around\".\n\nI begin to look from the ground up around the apartment, slowly taking my time to look in every nook and cranny, nothing.\n\nMy blood begins to boil, all I want to do is relax and instead I'm doing the opposite of that, my back hurts and I'm here bending over looking underneath things, this is bullshit!\n\nI'm a guy who can recognize his own laziness, perhaps I didn't look good enough in the couch cushions, I'll check again, but first I'm going to sit down for a second and take a couple hits of this weed, yeah, relax, then look for it, solid plan Brett!\n_________________________________________________________\n\nBrett takes a couple rips off his pipe and sinks into his desk chair, calming himself down before he continues his search for this necessary but ridiculous item that he and so many others hold holy.\n\nBrett slowly gets up out of his chair and stretches a stretch of which the likes have never been seen, the stretch even appeared to make him glow with a luminous effect.\n_________________________________________________________\n\n\"Let's do this shit! Where's that fuckin' remote!!\"\n\nI go back to the couch and start removing the three cushions.\nFirst cushion removed, nothing.\nSecond cushion removed, nothing.\nAs I slowly reach for the third cushion a shiver runs up my spine.\n\"Weird\" I thought. Must be getting cold outside, whatever.\nI grab the third couch cushion with great hope, only to reveal nothing.\n\nI don't remember what happened after that, I remember removing that third couch cushion, only to find no remote, but then I woke up in this .... place. This is not my home, I'm not even sure this is Earth.\n_________________________________________________________\n\nBrett finds himself in another world whilst searching for his television remote, did he just pass out from anger and he is dreaming? Or did he truly become transported to another world where he may find his lost artifact?\n________________________________________________________\n\nFIND OUT NEXT TIME, ON REMOTE CONTROL Z\n", "The game was long since over and the post game show was winding down. He stirred from his recliner like a dragon that had been asleep for 1000 years. His bones creaked and his joints popped as he stretched his arms towards the heavens. Up next was women's college basketball and that simply would not do. He absentmindedly checked the sides of the chair as the usual holding spot for the hand of god. But to his surprise there was nothing there and the remote control was nowhere in sight. He instantly became worried and listened intently to kitchen to make sure his wife wasn't doing any chores that would require his help and the pregame interviews were getting underway.\n\n\"Honey!.....Where's the remote?\" he cautiously cried.\n\n\"I don't f%$#ing know! Find it your damn self!\" answered the shrew.\n\nDefeated and running out of options, he thought intently what his next move should be. He looked around the room, his face getting more and more worried with every place he saw where the remote wasn't. \n\n\"Kids!\" he cried. It was a desperate attempt as they most likely wouldn't respond and if somehow they did, he would have to agree to a verbal contract for their assistance as if they were demons from hell. He was almost relieved when there was no reply.\n\n\"We're 2 minutes away from tip off and the crowd is lively...\" dribbled the announcer on TV. Survival instincts were kicking in and he rocked and rolled himself to see over the side of the recliner if perhaps the remote had fallen on the floor. There was no luck on either side. His back ached and was in very really danger of actually having to get and move. A dire consequence for his earned slumber.\n\nHis back kept having the minor ache it had had since his awakening. He had shrugged it off as awkward sleep you can sometimes get from the throne. But suddenly he realized that it might be something more. The thought that behind his back might be the grail he was looking for crossed his mind. He looked at his right hand as if it were the valiant Sir Lancelot and he bravely sent him into to battle the elements of wet leather and skin and smells to horrible to describe. After a few moments, his hand found something that felt familiar and he grasped it firmly and quickly raised his arm to see his lofty prize. His eyes adjusted from the brilliant blinding light and he saw what he held in all its glory and exclaimed: \"EXCALIBUR!\".\n\nThen he switched to sportscenter. \n\n\n" ]	2
Write a story that leaves the reader wondering whether supernatural events actually happened, or if it could all be explained.	[WP] Maybe magic, maybe mundane	[ "Bess Weiss's cooking was never very good, but every day she would toil in the kitchen to make sure her family had a warm meal on the table. Howard Weiss worked a job that left the family with enough money to live far beyond comfortably on just one wage, as he would often insist they do. (Bess disagreed.)\n\nThis particular Tuesday in late July, Bess prepared some over-boiled green beans, under-cooked mashed potatoes and a chicken that was -- surprisingly -- just right. As she was setting the table, the heavy front closed with a slam.\n\n\"Arthur, is that you, honey?\" she called, placing a fork to the left of a plate on the mahogany table.\n\n\"Yeah! Mom,\" Arthur explained. \"You'll never believe what happened today!\"\n\nJust then the door closed again. \n\n\"Harry, that you?,\" she chimed. \"Come in here, Arthur's going to tell us about his day.\"\n\nThe tall man walked in into room, he had dark curly hair and a face for show-business. \"Yeah, what's that?\"\n\n\"Well,\" Arthur began to explain, his face sunk at his skeptical father was going to hear the story. \"Fletcher and I were playing Sherlock Holmes. We were investigating the mystery of the missing bikes. (Harry would often set up tricks for the two children to try to solve.) And we met this suspicious new girl, Cecilia who lives down the street.\n\n\"And I swear, and you're not going to believe this, but,\" he looked at his father, \"she could levitate!\"\n\n\"That's ridiculous,\" Harry said. \"I'm sure she was just playing a trick on you.\"\n\n\"Dad, I swear …\" \n\n\"That's enough.\"\n\n\"Dad, but…\"\n\n\"We're done talking about this. Go get ready for dinner; your mother made a nice meal.\"\n\nWith that the conversation was done, and the family sat down in silence to their over-cooked, green beans, under-cooked potatoes and chicken that was -- surprisingly -- just right. Arthur picked up his fork as he thought of the girl who could levitate down the street.\n\n-005\n", "\"The odds of shuffling a deck of cards into the same order twice are astronomical,\" Jack oozes with a smirk while lighting up a new cigarette. \n \n\"Literally!\" Queenie chimes in sardonically. Jack's shadow people had taken to calling her. \n \nK is still meticulously writing out the order of the cards. The jokers were out so 52 in all. Not a flicker of recognition crosses K's face as the other two natter on but he hears them all the same. Jack had been good once, very good as far as stage magicians went. TV show, full Vegas circuit, the works. But he'd gotten lazy and fat on the success. He'd been at the game too long and even here with the three of them alone in the hotel room K could hear the acid in his voice. He hated magic almost as much as he hated himself. \n \n\"Oh my god K, write slower why don't you,\" Queenie's shrill mocking almost raises a grimace. She saunters off to the mini bar at Jack's request to fix him a drink. K glances up momentarily to watch her walk away in that ridiculous outfit. The dress hangs awkwardly on her tiny asian frame. At least she's ditched the skyscraper heels. \n \nK writes down the final three cards. Jack of Diamonds. Queen of Hearts. King of Spades. He pushes the creased paper across to Jack who snatches it up impatiently. Jack mutters to himself while looking over the order. He draws out the final drag of his cigarette, crushes the butt, and then speaks through the smoke. \n \n\"Come on then, let's see some real magic.\" His grin is sickening. He grabs Queenie roughly around the waist and pulls her towards him, relieving her of the tall glass of whiskey. K motions towards the deck with a nod. \n \n\"Alright gorgeous, wash that deck for us will you,\" Jack instructs Queenie and she happily obliges, scattering the cards face down across the table. K leans back in his chair stiffly as Queenie re orders the stack again and again. Jack doesn't seem to blink as he watches her work, his eyes flicking back and forth between the cards and K. Finally he prods Queenie aside and sweeps up the deck in practised hands. After a trademark flamboyant riffle shuffle he hands the deck to K. \n \n\"You really think you can convince me don't you? Do you know how many years I've been doing this same shit. There's nothing I haven't seen tried and you have fuck up written all over you,\" Jack spits before taking another swig of whiskey. Queenie sits at his side and they both watch K begin to shuffle. He washes the whole deck again, leaving the intricate red patterns on the back of the cards facing up at them. Jack strains himself looking for the method; the process by which K hopes to succeed until, before he is ready, the deck stands neatly stacked before him. Nothing. A legitimate shuffle. \n \n\"Let's have a look then shall we?\" Jack tosses the paper list at Queenie and sparks up a new cigarette. \n \n\"Read them off for us darling.\" Smoke seeps from between his lips. \n \n\"Slowly,\" he adds the last word in a jarring mixture of menace and that soft voice reserved only for children. As Queenie begins to drone through the list K retreats to his thoughts. He wonders if he's made the right decision; if this man is really the best choice. No, he thinks. It's plain to see now. He doesn't deserve it. \n \n\"How?\" Jack's question lingers in the air, his cigarette hangs limply from his bottom lip. Three cards to go and every one the same as the original order. Jack's hands are shaking as Queenie continues to read off the cards. \n \nJack of Diamonds. \n \nQueen of Hearts. \n \nJack's bloodshot eyes bulge and on the floor beside him Queenie begins to look nervous; scared even. Maybe Jack isn't so nice when he's angry. Queenie half sobs the name of the last card. \n \nAce of Spades. \n \nThe relief that emanates from Jack is tangible. It crashes into K with a sudden impact causing him to rise in his chair. The room is all but paralysed, the three of them cast in temporal clay. And then Jack laughs. A dirty, victorious laugh. \n \n\"What a fucking coincidence!\" Jack roars and now he's bellowing with laughter, but underneath there is still the shaking, his fingers still twitching nervously. \n \n\"Get the fuck out of here!\" he laughs at K before viciously batting the deck from the table. K stands quietly and picks his way over the scattered cards. He looks back at Jack who is already inside another glass. Queenie sees him to the door and closes it behind him with a word.\nAs he makes his way down the stairwell he gives a silent thanks that Jack hadn't noticed the Ace had been a repeat. Stepping outside into the busy street K deftly flicks a card out of his sleeve, catching it between his fingers. \n \nI always was good at sleight of hand he thinks, letting the King of Spades flutter to the ground." ]	2
	[WP] Someone offers a toast at a dinner. The toast has a different meaning for every person at the table.	[ "The old millionaire raised his glass to the full room, \"A toast!\" He slurred. \"To everyone, have a fantastic evening!\" The party guests all cHeered and sipped the champagne. \n\nOh I will. Thought the millionaire's mistress eyEing him hungrily.\n\nOh I will. Thought the millionaire's son Drunkenly swaying back and forth as he stared out the window at his brand new Lotus Elise. \n\nOh I will. Thought the city's chief of police, as he pocketed some documents In the next room. \n\nOh... I will. The millionaire's wife thought as she felt the outline of her gun in her drEss. Her eyes, like a panther, never left her prey. \n\nInnumerable starS winked and flittered above. It's funny how our nights of passion and love often fly by, unnoticed by that heavenly audience. ", "\"Guys, toast is ready!\"\n\n-and I hope they like this new farmer's market bread. Leon is always such a picky eater!\n\nOh goodness, I really shouldn't be having carbs right now...\n\nEuggh, it looks burned. Gross. Suppose I still have to eat some to be polite.\n\nAw, it's a bit burned like Nona used to make when I was little. I miss her.\n\nOh thank God! I am SO hungry!\n\nMrreeeooow?" ]	2
	[WP] Anything you write in this magical phone comes true, but it has autocorrect. What do you wish for, and what do you end up getting instead?	[ "I almost walked straight past it, but curiosity got the better of me and I picked up the discarded Motorola Razr off the ground. I mean, who even uses Motorolas anymore? \n\nI looked around the park, trying to find it's owner - but I was all alone. I shrugged and started to play with the phone - strange that a discarded mobile had full battery, but it seemed the thing was broken. It was stuck on a blank message, with the recipient set to \"TRYME\". \nThis must be some sort of prank phone. I thought to myself. Well if it's a prank phone, I may as well troll the number I guess. I racked my brain for a while, and then my fingers started to press on the metallic keys:\n\nI am so horny.\n\n\"Haha I am hilarious\" I thought to myself, but before I could press send, the message autocorrected itself before disappearing:\n\nI am so hungry.\n\nGoddamn autocorrect. Well, whatever the other person would still be confused as hell regardless, so I suppose it still counted as a successful troll text. All of a sudden my stomach growled. That's strange. Maybe it was just a coincidence? Either way, I was really hankering for some food, RIGHT NOW. I sat down on the nearest park bench and contemplated whether I should walk to the nearest McDonald's or just to run the rest of the way home and raid my fridge. \n\nI weighed my options as I fidgeted with the phone. Hmm... maybe...just maybe... I flick the mobile's lid open and I write another text:\n\nI would love to have some curry chicken.\n\nAgain, the phone autocorrected the message before disappearing from the screen. Oh no. I've made a huge mistake. Hands shaking, I look up from the phone. All around me, they appeared out of thin air. Throughout the whole park - one by one, I was surrounded. \nBy small, chattering, Indian children.\n\n", "\"Peace on Earth.\" Got a pile of dirt in my living room.\n\n\"Goodwill to Men.\" Got a bunch of used clothing and tools.\n\n\"Merry Christmas.\" Damned hobbit arrived in time for the holidays. Drank all my f****** beer! And his feet stink! Just glad Pippen isn't here.\n\n\"Happy Hannukah.\" Well, the mouth harp is useful, I guess.\n\n\"Win the lottery prize.\" Never thought I'd cut so many trees down. \n\nAnd as for the girl... I had to help her carry in a HUGE library, full of big... books.\n" ]	2
Time for a true prompt, not a story skeleton. Very open ended, I want to see what you will invent on your own, rather than giving you the entire plot and setting already in the "prompt." This sub has been infected with these bad prompts since it became a default, Back to our basics.	[WP] You are a young nomad aboard your tribe's city sized airship. Write whatever story you like.	[ "The story writing ritual is the one of the most impotent. Our flying city has very free ways to grow trees... and paper is one of the most prized items. A story can last for years, and bards retell it for lifetimes. To be worthy of the test is one of the greatest honors.\n\n \"You are young, the nomads of this ship trust you though\" the elder told me \"Write whatever story you like\"\n\nI stopped and thought. this would take the greatest act of writing I could think of. \n\nThere was only one way to start the story.\n\n\"Once... before the earth fell into rot... Before you needed an airship to live higher then the toxic clouds...\"", "Of all the things that Emasu has learned of over these past few months, the existence of such a magnificent city has outdone them all. \n\nFrom his balcony overlooking the city one might think nothing of their location, as was the size of the cityship, were it not for the clouds and sunsets. The great mass of wet fluff sometimes were white hills rolling into the distance, or smooth soft oceans, or so low they were beneath the city's horizons. Rarely were the clouds above the city, more often a fog on the streets. \n\nThe sunsets were truly a wonder to behold. The clouds changed the sight depending on their mood, but always the city grew dark before the sky. The rays of the sun would hit from below, lighting up the underside of clouds, coloring them in the most spectacular colors. On those rare occasions the clouds floated above, this caused the city to brighten before it grew dark.\n\nThis evening it was a clear sky with the cloud hills rolling on the horizon as the sun settled below, tossing its rays through clouds lighting them up with yellows and oranges moving slowly towards pinks and violets.\n\nEmasu sighed in contentment. It has been a long journey to come here, now so close to his goal. His only regret was that he wished Daniru was here to share in his joy; the boy would be smiling from ear to ear at the sights.\n\nHe returned to his study leaving the balcony doors open, enjoying the cool evening, and retired to his reading nook. After settling in the plush armchair he thumbs a pebble sized gem hanging on a silk thread above his head, letting a small amount of energy to flow until the perfect reading light glowed from it.\n\nHaving completed the simple task, he retrieved a bound book from the side table, one he's been reading through, studying, searching. Pausing to admire the craftsmanship, his hands ran across the leather binding tracing the embossed letters. So far nothing. It was just a collection of simple stories, not an ancient nor old book, the pages still whole and legible, but it was from before the Eclipse; anything from before the Eclipse was prized, for little remained from Emasu's childhood.\n\nThe title did little to reassure him, the words \"Collected Fables of Fair Falon\" standing out as merely darker colored leather along its spine, nothing special. He wondered, not for the first time, if this was where his last hopes should lay.\n\nFinding the strip of black silk tucked between the pages, he read the story aloud, pretending he was back in the factory, telling stories to Daniru and the other children.\n\n----------------------------------------\n\n[Continued here](http://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesByCyrDaan/comments/2ru858/unnamed_magic_fantasy_story/)", "Vickus Skycloud sat in place as the sky train ferried them to the outer fence of District One. The train ride today was smooth and the chatter of his fellow squad-mates filled the compartment while the city below whizzed by. If one looked ahead and behind they would see another unconnected train.\n\nIn the distance was the distant horizon with a sheet of heavy glass separating the wild outside from the pleasant air within. The evening sun was falling downwards on a world filled by water. He had seen land only once in his life and they were just passing by. The sight of rocks and dirt surrounded by the ocean was strange to him. He and his entire tribe had rotated watch to see the spectacle that day. Evest, the last land colony.\n\nThe sirens began and the slowly metal shutters began to lower over the story tall glass. The citizens would now be requested to return to enter their local emergency shelters. There, the thick metal walls would prevent the worst of collateral damage should the attackers make it past the fence.\n\nThe Nimbula wasn't much. It was neither the largest of the city-ships nor the smallest. The Nimbula full of hard working people though. People who trained hard and worked hard to ensure that the city prospered and continued to fly so that they would never be at the mercy of the endless waters below.\n\nEvest took no refugees and any city-ship that became water-bound never made it beyond three generations before it was sunk. The stories of sibling cities like The Ulsys, The Oasis, New Yorke, and many others. The majority was sunk by neither sabotage nor combat but something much worse.\n\nIgnorance had sunk those ships. City-Ships were not simply metal and concrete attached to a balloon or engine. It was a interconnected system of many things that kept them afloat, powered and stable. Solar and Wind power made up their sources of energy that powered the machines that helped grow food and purified water. A system that would collapse under its own weight had there been no specialists.\n\nThe Nimbula was well educated and its people well trained. So whoever was causing this alarm would regret the fact that they had targeted his tribe.\n\nThe train came to a slow stop and his squad disembarked. The young cheered and yelled. They only saw victory and the promise of vain glory.\n\nVickus smiled at their words. He was like that once. Until he was one of the last of his original squad. Now he half led and half ignored these brats. Captain Kardis was his old teammate and the only one he fully respected. Kardis gave him a cocky grin. That scarred and wrinkle face lit up. They were soldiers and they lived long enough to have a good chance to see tomorrow.\n\nThe squad moved through the station and out into a special access hallway that would lead them to the fence. Discpline here took over as Kardis barked his orders and they fast walked the few kilometers to the fence. The air thinned and the cold intensified as they reached the heavy breech doors that lead to the outside world.\n\nVickus adjusted his goggles and breather as he walked out into the frigid world. The air was howling today and it was lightly snowing as specks of ice flew around the fence. Engineers were busy chipping away at ice to free up the mechanical defenses. Large ballista turrets that would fire big missiles of ice. Half log and half cone, they could pierce the hulls, engines and balloons of enemy airships. Water was cheap but wood and metal were rare.\n\nHe walked up to a spot in-between ice covered, metal parapets. The ice created an extra barrier to help preserve the outer shell of the ship but also tended to ice over the gaps left for soldiers to return fire.\n\nCurrently there were four engineers chiselling away at the thick ice to open the gap as was standard procedures. The sound of metal spikes being hammered into ice filled the air. They all stopped as they noticed Vickus approach them. They saw his cyan coloured sword on his collar and they all saluted.\n\nWhite for initiates, green for privates, cyan for sergeants, and blue for captains.\n\nVickus made eye contact with all of them before pointing at his eyes and then out towards the open skies.\n\nTheir senior, pinned with a cyan hammer, saluted and replied. He spread his hands open and held them to his ears before using only to fingers to out out from his mouth. Sky Rats. Most likely hoping to steal something. \n\nTwo full hands and then two fingers before he spread his hand out like he was holding a big ball. 12 balloons. Full hand and three fingers before he spread out only one hand and held it palm down while wiggling. 8 hover types.\n\nThe engineer saluted to finish his report. Vickus nodded and returned a sharp salute and returned to report.\n\nKardis nodded motioned for his men to remain on guard but could stand down for now. It wouldn't help for them to remain fully tense as muscles could crap and whatnot.\n\nIf enemies boarded then it would be up to his squad to stop them. They had small steam guns that fired dense ice but it would boil down to melee. If they made it that is.\n\nThe sound of a massive THUNK broke the air followed by a thick whistling sound as the ice missile flew out and towards the sky rats floating upwards.\n\nThere was a second thunk in the distance. The Nimbula had twenty ballistas on each side of the ship. They could tilt up and down, making them great weapons while green engineers could ferry missiles to each turret. Only a small number of ships would ever reach them and usually Sky Rats gave up before then.\n\nVickus simply leaned onto the iced hull and relaxed. If all went well then the sky rats would run. If it didn't then he would get to see how many of his squad-mates got to survive and earn their green marks. Vickus smiled in his breather. If the rats made it on-board then they would see the might of his men. Nimbus was full of well trained, eager soldiers dreaming of a gold pin. The pin of heroes.\n\nHe could almost pity them. Almost.", "Dream pulled away, wide blue dreaming of the whole of Creation and all Her whirring blades and fitted sails dwindled down, whittled into this small part of Her, with the bare-chested boys and the smell of machine grease and free power. Suran remembered his arms and legs, all ten fingers, his slack lips and boy's patchy stubble, and power pulled back into him, into the tiny little room inside his chest; power closed the door behind it and pulled up a sheet of muscle and viscera and slept, spent entire. Leaving Suran breathing in the oil and air, now that he remembered he breathed. Alone in the crowded space, the other boys bent with glass for eyes, gripped by the spiraling tubules of Creation.\n\nPlaced his back in the bracket and stood. Only two legs. Weak, now that the power was out of them. He found his shirt thrown over a puffing radiator, pulled it over his ragged chest and the hood up, shading his too-bright eyes. Had hand-holds in Creation's belly for the boys to grasp as they walked up the winnowing stair, engineers having known they would be careening like drunks on the remembrance of their own bodies. Found food in his cubicle, packed in its pneumatic, and lay there for a time among the heaped wiring and exhausted bodies, eating and waiting to feel all right.\n\nSo many hours. Suran did not feel all right. When he stood and the power was sleeping still, Suran knew that the illness had found him at last.\n\nConsidered seeing the medica in their white warrens, but decided against it. Could do nothing for Jahim when his power sprouted madness. Was doing nothing for Kayinde, high on her leper's perch. Considered weeping, but Suran did not have the power even for that.\n\nCame to all of them in time, said the guru when Suran was in his cloister. Sooner or later, but the illness came sooner and sooner, every year. The policia said that Creation was editing Herself, that it had no more use for little boys with lightning in their blood; but then why did She birth them at all, to spend what they were in her engine-room and wheeze out their thunder uselessly into the air? They were still down there, the boys, pressing their lightnings into the machine-belly, making Creation move, and this would be Suran's last time among them, now that the weakness had come to him.\n\nPerhaps he would not tell them at all.\n\nSuran found inside him a mask of strength, and wore it. It looked like his own face and that was close enough. He stood on woozy legs and spiraled up the winnowed walkway, grasping the hand-holds where ten thousand hands, emptied of lightning, had grasped after their work was done, up out of Creation's belly and into Her heart, where birthed the thousand smells of meat and sweat and damp cloth and charged air. Pneumatic relays right by the door to the engine, aswirl with messages. ANd there were people doing the business of people, people with babes in their arms, ragged and beautiful bulbs of brown flesh and dark eyes, so many of them, so many.\n\nWhen he was a boy there had been the war, and they had thought to make him a stormcaller. But Creation had proven triumphant, and everyone with the power served in some way. Suran did not think he could bear to see them slaughtered for their meat and tiny treasures. Suran did not think that he could bear to stand on Creation's prow and bring ruin to people just as these.\n\nBut that was not his fate. All those with power must serve: the medicae in their white halls, sharp eyes pinning the illness down; the windbringers on their high masts, filling the sails with life; the lifeweavers in the meat pens, coaxing goats and little birds from clumps of cells; and him; and him, and the other stormcaller boys, hives of them in the belly of the ship, their lightnings channeled into Creation Herself.\n\nFor as long as he was able. For as long as he could pretend. A man knocked him, as Suran stumbled to his room, and his weakness was such that he nearly fell. The man was big and full of curses, but checked himself when he saw the color of the bos eyes and was gone, a part of the people, gone.\n\nWeakness chewing on his heart with every step.\n\nBut up the mainway there were stalls, hanging plastic painted bright colors and selling honey-roasted finchlings rolled in crystal salt; old gold beaten into new shapes as the crowds watched; performers dancing on the tips of tall free-standing poles. The wide stairs from the underbelly led to the workrooms, the honeybee chambers steeped in lye-scent, arush with movement as messengers loaded food and paper and payment and medicine into pneumatics and sent them rushing with the run of a scroll and a puff of their breath. Up the wide stairs and then there was the sky, the wide sky alive with moving breezes, invisible but to those who had the power and then: the paint of hidden electricity, of dry breath and tall, tall sunshine, as glorious above as it was dirty below, in the tormented world that Creation had left behind.\n\nHe did not look up, to his left. He knew there would be a cage there, a thin woman on a tall pole, dark skin burned and white eyes singing. He knew she would be breathing fast, now, the wild wind seeking its escape from her sweating useless body. He did not look to the cubby near the western rim, where the railing split and let two pairs of legs dangle, two hands clasp, two voices catch and swirl and talk about oh, anything. About the feel of their first catchweed smoke. About the long months coming, in cloister. About how their children, if conceived, when conceived, might have one or either of their power. Or neither. Or both. And then a giggle, eaten by the copper plating and rivets: how long would they have to spend in cloister? We'll see, Kayinde, we'll see.\n\nA promise or a threat? He loved her, maybe.\n\nSuran would make it back to his bunk and lay there. He would eat and rest, a new cloister, and touch his power with inward hands, waking it slowly. And the next day he would descend into the belly of Creation and lend his lightnings to Her great endeavor, to Her march across the dirty, glorious sky. Because he loved Her.\n\nLittle breezes around the backs of his heels. Yes. Yes, he loved her.", "We are not quite what they expect.\n\nI suppose back on Old Earth, nomads were kind of backwards flotsam people, running around places no one wanted to take from them, ragged and weary, that type of thing. I dont know, that was a long time before I was born, and they had been gone, along with most of Earth, a long time before that. I dont care much for history. And although our guests seem quite wealthy, cultured sorts, I am guessing they didnt pay too much attention either, as they look around themselves in surprise when they step off their small shuttle and onto mighty Balthazar.\n\nWhy should we be ragged, when our people alone soar the skies of Sulla Magna, ready to grab the invaluable minerals its core spits out onto its magma surface? Sulla is a raging, seething ball of incandescence where an island might sometimes cool and we dive upon it ready to harvest. While Sulla is not generous, Balthazar and his brood soar on the thermals and wait for kinder days. \n\nWe walk towards them and hold out leather gloved hands in greeting. Our heavy metallic boots get strange looks and distract the party of twenty from our faces. They look up at us in time to shake hands. I go for the one most at the front, some kind of dignitary? His hand grabs mine and slips back, clammy and moist. I smile, though he cant see it from behind the scarf which covers all our faces up to our noses. It must reach my eyes, and he must see them through my goggles, because he seems to relax. After a few seconds of awkward silence, he speaks up:\n\n\"You know us, and we thank you for your welcome. I am Bastian, here to negotiate the terms of your surrender.\" \nAt this, the other 19 show weapons, raise them.\n\"Now, now, gentlemen, no need for such show of arms, he says, the fleet in orbit is threat enough, and we do not want to put our hosts on edge. Sulla Magna seems like a place of fiery tempers, where accidents easily happen. \"\n\nHe smiles, now, as if saying: my turn. Does he expect me to be impressed that he speaks our language? We do not live in secret, hidden and cautious. Maybe he is trying to hint that we will survive this invasion, that some of what we are will be allowed to exist in his glorious empire.\n\nWe beckon them forward, and we walk a few minutes with their guns at our back. They just want to remind us they are there; as he mentioned, the fleet he brought to orbit has guns plenty: Cyrenaroise, our sister's wreck, can attest to that. And they do not think we are mad enough to hurt them with planet annihilating force above us. \n\nWe do not stop at any control rooms, and we reach the Panoramique, the great raised plaza to Balthazar's starboard. A small corona of burning iron exploded nearby into the sky. On one side, the back of Balthazar, a great metropolis of alloy and industry, bronzed by heat, so much like skin, smoke rising from too many stacks to count. On our right and slightly back, a great sail, swept back and horizontal like a wing, and the tortured sea of fire that is the surface of our world. Terrible and murderous world.\n\nHe speaks up, to be heard above the ash wind which blows on us. His eyes water and some of his armsmen cough into their arms. Well trained, they only do so when they see several of the others have their guns trained on us. Metallic weapons aim at me as I hear his tirade. It is a rehearsed speech, he wants to show me he is used to planetary scale negotiating. That only millions of lives and hundreds of ships are worthy of his attention:\n\n\"Half of your production is henceforth to be shipped to orbital gate Mu-Seraphon, at your expense, for transfer to our shipyards in orbit of nearby Volkervast. Your population will in addition be tithed, one son per family, every ten years, for service in the fleet. As your population lives in it's entirety on your skimmer fleet, this task shall be made far simpler for our administratum corps, which each of your engines shall accomodate. They shall also begin preliminary investigations on Terraforming potential or modification of the surface. Your quick compliance has been noted and accordingly we are giving you a merciful contract of association...\"\n\nI cut him off here. I raise my hand, and point overboard. Weapons are raised on their side, at me and my comrades. So sure of themselves and their strength. Perfect. That is how we like them.\n\n\"Do you know what that is?\"\nI point out at a spot just like any other, almost too bright to look at. He stammers, not used to being interrupted? No he does not.\n\n\"That is where Cyrenaroise's wreck floats, deep beneath the burning waves, flying still, in a manner of speaking.\"\n\n\"You lie. You couldnt know that, whatever falls in there has surely been molten to slag.\"\n\n\"Funny you should say that. If it is, as you say, slag now, then the flows of Sulla have probably carried her all over the surface by now. So no matter where we look, we will see our sister, for all time.\"\n\n\"Very poetic. Do you agree to the terms, captain?\"\nStraight to business. At least I can respect that. The little baron types like him usually want to gloat.\n\n\"You seem to truly think of us as crew. I suppose you're not completely wrong, we all work for Balthazar, we keep him healthy and strong so we can fly with him until Sulla cools and we with her. But we live here. And with me live two million men, 2 million women, and 5 million children. Cyrenaroise, our little sister, much the same. Do you think we can see them all around us too, no matter where we look, for all time?\"\n\n\"Do you agree to the terms, captain?\"\n\n\"You keep calling me that. When did I tell you I was captain?\"\nI get a definite reaction now. A twitch of the left eye, a glance to a slightly bulkier armsman.\n\n\"If you are no captain, you are some form of diplomat? I am a busy man and have no time to waste on pleasantries which do not further the Directory's realm.\"\n\n\"I alone am nothing, just as you are nothing without your fleet and men. But my five comrades and I are together the Stromo murdermake.\"\nAt this point, Rine, furthest from my left, presses a simple beacon, which lets our engineer-pilots know the time has come. One disables stabilizers on the starboard sail, another activates magnetic fields. The armsmen, whom I had so captivated, fail to stop Rine and by the time their weapons acquire targets, the deck has begun to list. They slide backwards, then fall in earnest. They pile onto the ledge formed by the side of the Panoramique. Even now they spread themselves along so that they may all have a foothold, and two stand on each side of Bastian and keep him steady. We look down at them, more horizontal by the second, securely clamped magnetically to the deck by our boots, as is the entire city.\n\n\"A nice trick, but I suppose you are thereby refusing our offer. Perhaps further decimation of your population is called upon.\"\nNow Mozo, to my right, smiles, his beacon having been activated once we confirmed their arrival. Sulla has two moons, but had one. Every airship answers the call and gives assent, and the smaller moon, which travels the sky several times throughout the day, breaks apart, first in large pieces, and then faster and faster, until a cloud of ferrous rock fills the sky and screams across our orbit. Our few satellites are gone instantly, but the fleet, so close to Sulla to better murder our women and children, does not last very much longer. The speed of the new debris is terrifying and they shred plating, bulkheads, men. Wrecks fill the sky, burn across ash and steam clouds. Saviour pads are fired and rain down; perhaps that is a malfunction; perhaps some crewmen want to die quicker. \n\nIn their awe, they have forgotten to fire at us. And now they need most of their strength to stay on Balthazar, they cough from the great ash plumes and what was sweat has become steaming blisters, as the tilt of the ship exposes us all to the surface. We breath in the moist scarves of our necks, thank Sulla for the goggles, reach for weapons hidden in panels, and we shoot them off one by one, like rats in the engines. A few try to lift weapons to fight back, commendable, but they pull them away shrieking, their cloth gloves no defense for Sulla's true heat. We leave Bastian for last, and after Jula snaps a shot through the eye lens of his last companion, I walk closer, until the heat knocks the breath out of me too. And I push him away.\n\n\"I look forward to seeing you all around me\", I whisper. I know he has heard me. \n\nI watch his face his open, screaming face all the way until he is over the edge of the ship and out of my sight.\n\nNomads are not what they used to be. We are strong because nothing else survives on Sulla. We are great engineers for the same reason; engine failure here is death. We will remake the moon, remagnetize its core and collect the pieces which are left. She feeds us and tonight we feed her. So often they come and forget we were not born here, but came from the stars as well, and that we have never forgotten the tools that brought us. But we stay here because we are no man's slaves. Sulla lets us stay because we have never tried to tame her; she lets us grow because we have kept her from those who do.\n\nI turn around and walk back towards them, the ship has already begun righting itself. Goodbye Cyrenaroise, I think, I hope you liked Balthazar's last gift for you. I look all around and listen for an answer, but I hear nothing but the cruel wind and the cataclysms of impact where dreadnought meets surface. Tonight it rains an Imperial fleet on our terrible, murderous world.\n\nOn our terrible, murderous, beloved world.", "Sunlight, soaking the cloud sea in the dying fire of a day in late summer, poured across the Eastern Decks, glinting off the thousands of metal rings, through which ran the innumerable miles of rope holding the Kai Hubur together. Molt lay on the deck, his feet danging over infinity, savouring the last few moments of warmth. \n\nSoon the blood red disc would sink below the cloud sea. The temperature would plummet, and the great leather-winged bats roosting in crevices up and down the sides of the great ship would rise like a storm, rising to hunt the insect swarms that congregated at such heights. Shivering in the gathering dusk, Molt pulled his furs about him, suddenly eager to be below. He swung his legs up and onto the deck of his world, feeling the ancient pine, worn smooth by a hundred generations of Cloud Dancers, beneath his feet. The constant roll and yaw of the ship did not trouble him; his sky legs were as sure as any. As his hand closed round the brass latch of the deck's door he turned in time to see them rise. \n\nSwirling through the chilly air, wind whipping them in strange eddies, like ink spreading through water the bats rose. Bats supposed to be a favoured animal on the ship. They drove away the insects and, in times of hardship, made adequate food. Molt was always bothered by them; something about their fanged snouts and the sound of their wings made his skin crawl. He slipped quickly into the hold. Into the warmth of the below deck: home. \n\n(I have a few ideas about where this story might head, but for now it's just a little picture of a place and a person and that's enough for me.) \n\n\n", "Albatross d'Ours of the Westwind raced.\n\nSome walked gracefully, as elegant as the regal crane. Others loomed over everyone else as they strode with single purpose. Some flittered and fluttered about like songbirds, jumping from one task to the next singing chirping music. That was not d'Ours way, his was of speed, of drivenness. His was the wind.\n\nHe leaped over merchants' stalls and slid underneath tables laid out with various wares. An annoyed glare or shout followed his path, occasionally an alarmed noise as his feet missed a customer's head by mere inches. \n\nThe merchant's gallery was a riot of color, greens and yellows and blues. Billowing silks hung translucent in late morning light, the rays illuminating places on the market floor in brightness. Everything imaginable was for sale, from beautiful bolts of fabric and beads of jade to scrolls and pillow books. A cage the height of a man held a flock of vibrant songbirds, parakeets and the like. They fluttered their green and ruby wings as d'Ours passed them, their music a cacophony in the air.\n\nSteam rose from the numerous cook shops that lined the narrow avenues, scores sitting at the counters slurping down noodles and vegetables from lacquerware bowls. Rows of small birds roasted on spits as well as the much more expensive goat meat. Other food sellers sold fish, freshly caught and prepared. A shark eight feet long hung in a place of pride in front of one shop, its fins already sliced off to prepare soup. A cheer went up as d'Ours came upon 'fishmonger roe,' the merchants shouting to one another, \"Here he comes!\" and \"Get him, bring him down!\" \n\nA smirk cross d'Ours' lips as he added another burst of speed to his racing steps. He ducked his head reflexively as a thirty pound salmon flew through the air, caught expertly by a fishseller on the opposite side of the lane. More fish flew at him, d'Ours dodging around the flying projectiles. One cunning man slid a halibut at his feet, but d'Ours jumped to avoid the shield size flatfish. A groan went up in the crowd as he made his way through the gauntlet unscathed. It was a long standing tradition that anyone who rushed through Fishmonger Roe was at the mercy of its sellers, from the lowest commoner to the highest noble. It was one of the oldest traditions in Kannac-Mar and not even the Lord Admiral dared to abolish the unwritten rule.\n\nPausing for breath, d'Ours leaned out over a balcony as Kannac-Mar stretched out before. \n\nTo say Kannac-Mar was one whole city was both a truth and a lie at once. It was indeed one city ruled under one government, but it composed of more than just one vessel. Like some great school of fish, the larger ships flew in the center of the flock, the largest of the city homes and agri-ships. Further outwards were the slightly smaller vessels, though through shear numbers held the majority of the people of the tribe. Even smaller were the cutters and frigates that darted like barracuda through the air, silvery and vicious. They carried no families and were tasked with protecting the tribe fleet as a whole. Turning his head towards the stern of the Westwind, he gazed at the two thousand foot length of the vessel. \n\nUnlike more primitive peoples, his did not use lighter than air filled balloons to keep their ships in the sky. No. Instead, they mastered the secrets of the air spirits themselves, learning from them how to imbue wood and metal with levitating properties. The propellers spun lazily, just enough to allow the steering fins enough for minute movements. The tribal fleet as a whole was stationary, small skiffs and merchant cutters plying their trade between the ships, or else ducking down to the ocean to fish. The salt air was on his tongue and the sound of gulls and music in his ears. It was a prefect day. A hand appeared on his shoulder, causing him to tear his attention from the scene and turn about. \n\nA young woman, her long hair dyed snow white and allow to loosely hang. She wore a silk robe of deep blue belted by a broad sash of lighter silk. The robe ended at around mid-thigh and she wore slightly billowing cotton trousers of white to cover her legs. On her feet were the ubiquitous straw sandals that anyone who did not go barefoot wore; leather was a rare commodity in a society without great herds of animals and so most of the rare goat and pig skin was used in the production of books or scabbards. Sharkskin and rayskin was far more common. \n\n\"Alby, I've been searching all over for you. Thankfully you raised enough of a scene for people to point which way you were heading. What were you doing all morning? My father wants to speak with you.\"\n\n\"Does he now? Whatever for, Kumi?\"\n\nThe white haired girl shrugged with a tilt of her head. \n\n\"I do not know but please, be quick with it. It already annoys him enough you were gone before breakfast.\"\n\nd'Ours made a face. \"Fine. I'm coming. Just one moment.\" \n\nHe turned his head back to the scenic view of the whole fleet, at the gaily colored flags and sails. The sight of it warmed his heart with pride and joy.\n\n\"Alright. Let's go.\"\n\n ", "A flotilla appeared upon the horizon, a black silhouette against the setting of the sun. They attack at twilight, he thought, enough time to line up and set their course leaving us with no time to avert certain destruction. Concealed by the velvet blackness collision would occur. Nothing would be seen, only heard: the percussion of death echoing into the callous night. These flotilla were becoming more common, reports had been sent between several of his people's burghals of sudden attacks. The grinding of metal, of flesh, his mind shuddered. \n\nFocus.\n\nOnce these peasants had been nothing but landwellers, a few minor junks or frigates. Their tattered gunmetal hulls and sails could not reach high into the atmosphere. They lacked the apparatus to perform such feats. And he as a small boy had looked down upon them from the precipice of the engine rooms balcony. The acrid warmth met blistering cold, he had rejoiced in its contrast. It was his birthright. Ants he had thought. How could he have known they were people just like him? Minds molded by brazen envy. \n\nAs the Axon's burghals glided by, dots in the vaulted roof of the sky, these people... the Kraken, as he had begun to name them, aligned themselves. From fractured groups on scattered rocks in an endless abyss of ocean, they had begun to clot. Envy drove them, for he was a dot to them, a target to strive for. Two perspectives bitterly misaligned. They took their paltry inventions, and they bolted them together. Piecemeal technology. Now he watched as this monstrosity of iron and steel sailed towards him. They had joined frigate to junk to freighter birthing these monolithic flotilla. A cacophony of ships now one amorphous mass.\n\nStill it was smaller than his burghal, his magnificent cityship. The jet black cube. And yet the flotilla hurtled towards him at startling speed. It would tear through this fiefdom like it had the others. The kraken. Hours it would take to cut completely through, but nothing could stop it once contact was made. And the burghal would fall, and he would fall. Down through gas and through liquid before hitting rock. The kraken. He remembered the messages he had heard spying on his mother's war counsel. The panic in her voice, the screeching he had heard in theirs. Brethren lost at air. She had turned it off. She had wept. Ignorance was bliss they said.\n\nOn it loomed, its saws and jaws more visible now. These giant beaks and razors shuddering out from the front. Endlessly they moved in all directions: capricious and mean. A discord in metal. He did not sound the alarm, what was the use? How could they stand against such wanton cruelty, such reckless abandon. Such hate.\n\nHe stared, barely moving an inch as the world hurtled and collapsed around him. All except for the deep instinctual in-drawing of oxygen into lungs. Necessity required it, but he had no desire to keep living. Not if this was to be his end. Hypnotised he stood. He could not run, 20,000 feet in the air, where could he go?\n\nedit: added a few words here and there." ]	8
	[WP] The awkward conversation between two dollar bills who first met in a church collection plate, and a week later bump into each other in a strippers fishnets.	[ "Bill sat staring at the the face of the envope,\" I hate the top of the pile\" he thought \" there's no one to speak to above me \" Nothing was going to change though. Bill knew the envelope was stuffed to bursting point, there would never be anyone above to speak to, but it wasn't all bad, there were whispers coming through the pile that the other envelope had been taken to the bank. A cold shiver went through bills body, the mere thought of bank made him feel sick. No note ever talked about the bank, it was kind of like an unwritten rule , every one tried to forget the day they were created , and every note prayed for fellow currency that went back to the cold , dark crowded bank. \" the currency jail\" Bill thought slightly aloud. A smile appeared on his face as he remembered the time he had been to a human jail, the things that woman had done and the places she had put bill. Only for Bill to get confiscated a day later. Bills smirk turned into a giggle as he looked back on his life so far. The day that five year old girl dropped him at the ice cream van, \" now that was living\" he thought, he had seen more that day than most notes saw in a lifetime , and the feeling when he was floating through the sky , speeding past all the sights as the wind carried him for hours. Bills bottom corners began to tingle as he played through that day in his mind, if the note behind him would just stop fidgeting , Bill could go into his dormant state on a happy though..............\n\n\nBill woke slowly, his 23 years of service had taken it's toll on his old body. He was ready to settle down in an old forgotten wallet, Stacey the gorgeous 5 doller Bill he had met in the churches collection plate was the ideal candidate for his cosy little retirment wallet . She was flawless, there were no creases or ink spots on her. And the fact she was speaking to Bill, an old tatty dollar .... \"Still got it\" Bill said to himself. Suddenly Bill was aware of the commotion , and it dawned on him, he was in a pocket!! He wasn't sure how long he had slept for , but it was obviously a while , A quick glance around revealed he was in the pocket with at least another 20 single dollar bills , all whispering excitedly to each other about what new adventure lay ahead....\" Ha ha ha young and naive \" said Bill..he had enough life experiance to know a pocket pull of singles were going one place, and one place only..\n\nThis was Bills third time at a strip club, and he didn't mind it to be honest , he was fascinated by the humans , and loved seeing all the young notes enjoying their first experience . \nThe pocket was fast getting emptied , it was Bills turn any second... The hand thrust into the pocket grabbed Bill and two giddy youngsters, released them from the pocket and thrust them forward towards the dancing human. Bill hadn't been able to see anything untikk the hand had released him as his face had been pinned against the humans palm, as he flow through the air , and regained his sense of direction he realised it was going to be a hard landing ...CRASH Bill slammed onto the stage and skited across 3 or 4 other notes before coming to a stop on top of a rather scared looking five dollar. \" first time ehh\" Bill question with a smile on his face , \" don't worry love you'll be fine , I'll look after you , this is my Thir.......... Bill hadn't the chance to finish his sentence when the fiver screamed \" oh my God , Bill, I'm soo glad to see you\". \" Stacey\" Bill managed to say before he was interrupted again.... This time because he was scooped up by another hand, the dancers hand! \" don't worry, I'll find you ! Bill shouted As he was pulled away from Stacey, the pained look on her face made bills heart feel as if it had been stabbed , he was stuffed into a lackey g string and from there could see the dancers hand scoop up Stacey . Bill gave a sign of relief , \" at least we are going to the same place\" he said out loud . \nStacey was thrust into the dancers g string , at the opposite hip from where Bill was, when the dancer moved a certain way they could make brief eye contact. Bill saw that Stacey look in a terrible terrible way, she was white as a ghost and looked petrified . He had to get to her. If Bill could scootch across every time the dancer pulled her waist band to put more money in he would hopefully reach her. The stage had 3 possibly four handfulks of bills left , which ment Bill had four attempt to reach his love. As the first handfull was stuffed into the g string, Bill got very little movement, there were just too any noted in the waistband , despite Bill screaming for everyone to get out the way, no one heard him, there was just too Much noise. The second handfull of notes was scooped up and the pile on the stage looked smaller than Bill had thought, but this time the dancer stuffed them into the rear of her panties, which allowed Bill to make a great distance. As the dancers hand reached down for the third handfull, that was all the notes off the stage, Bills heart was racing ,this was his final chance at reaching his wallet partner, his ...his love. \" Stacey\" Bill screamed , and as the waistband was stretched he made his move \" I'm going to make it\" he thought, as the dancer moved he caught sight of Stacey , 3 more notes and he would reach his love at first sight, but as Bill passed the first note he realised that it was not the look of fear Bill had seen on staceys face, it was the look of death... The look of excruciating pain,.. Bill could see Stacey clearer now as he was one more note away, the look of pain became abundantly clear to him now the face of death was obviouse....Stacey had been RIPPED . Bill squeezed past the last note that separated him and Stacey, he was standing exactly where she was, but still he could not see her. The dancers g string snapped shut, Bill was squashed between the g string and the dancers sticky body . \" Stacey!!!\" He yelled, \" Stacey\" he cried! But no answer. The dancer started to walk backwards , and an eery silence fell between the notes in the waistband band, Bill was looking around frantically and saw the shocked looks on the surrounding notes faces, he followed their gaze to the dance floor........ It was Stacey face down the floor, her body in two pieces \n\n\n\n\nAppoligise for the length , I got carried away... I'm shit at English so appologise again if it's hard to read \n", "\" George? George! Hey George! How's it goin man! \"\n\n\" Oh, hey! Uh.. Benjamin, right?\"\n\n\" Bennie man! Give me five! What've you been up to George?\"\n\n\"Not much... I--\"\n\n\" Man, after the collection plate, I went to a gas station, people just coming and going man, I met this real.cool chick, Penny. We both went to a couple houses, hit up the bars, ended up at home depot, THEN, she had to go, we were gonna meet up with like 97 cents, but her and a couple other coins met up. I stayed in a wallet. Went to a couple stores, it was a blast man! Where'd you come from?\"\n\n\"well.. I uhh.. I came straight here from the church...\"\n\n\"oh... Well.. no worries man, the way things are lookin, I think were gonna be heading to nursing school!\"", "Heyy Frankie boy, fancy seeing you here.\n\nOh, uh, hey mister Randleson. I, uh, didn't think I'd see you in a place like this.\n\nYou sound worried, son. What's the matter?\n\nWell, it's just...last week we were both in that big church. We were in families from the same row. It was nice. The chruch was warm, everyone was very friendly. The guy in charge even used me to buy food for some homeless folk. But now we're in this...pit...where perverts throw money at these disgusting dancers. They're so dirty mister Randleson. I don't think this one has washed in days. I can feel its stink seeping into my fibres.\n\nNow now son, this ain't as bad as you think. It's just another day on the job. Why, I remember being your age back in the 80s. A freshly printed young buck ready to see the world. I fell in with some banking types and soon enough ended up in one of these clubs. It looks grim, kid, but trust me it ain't what it seems. Sure, right now we stink of cheap perfume and sweaty thighs, but that fades in a few days. By then we'll probably be in a nice home somewhere.\n\nYou're not scared mister Randleson?\n\nNo son I ain't. My first time 'round this circuit I ended up in a little apartment in the city. The dancer used me to buy shoes for her kid. Next time 'round I payed for some drinks, then someone's rent, then back to the grocery store. You'll see, in a few days time you'll probably be right back in some family hands, going into that chruch plate again.\n\nTh-thanks mister. I feel a bit better now.\n\n'Atta boy.", "It was a dark and stormy night, Bill was sitting in the pocket of his new owner Pastor John, soaking wet. It was a welcome relief to the monotony of his typical day, sitting in a drawer and just waiting to be spent. \"This is simply the life of currency\", he would constantly remind himself, \"a dull existence perhaps, but a necessary one.\" He enjoyed the times he had been spent on seeing the joy in a young boys eyes after getting a candy bar or the excitement of a mother when using him to purchase gift wrap around Christmas, but generally it was a quiet and forgotten existence.\n\nThis used to bother Bill, but after the horrors he had experienced at John's church he could only dream of the days of a quiet lonely existence. Now he just couldn't get the images out of his head, the horrors he witnessed were unlike any other. How could they do such things? This was not a house of worship, it was a house of disgrace. The sick bastard even used Bill and his fellow donated currency as part of his disgusting games, it was just too much to bare. He was ashamed to have \"In God We Trust\" stamped on his back.\n\nThere was another currency, an old fellow by the name of Flimsy, he was much older and wiser than Bill, you had to be to get a name like that. As the rain continued, while Bill was stuck to the side of John's pocket, he reminisced on his old friend. The church was the most horrible memory of his life, but Flimsy helped him get past the ink addiction he had developed and accept the fact that it wasn't his fault that he was doomed to a paralyzed existence. \"We are both cursed and blessed\", Flimsy had told him, \"we get to see both the greatest happiness and the darkest acts of humanity, but never can we act. We must always be spent and move on to the next human.\"\n\n\"Never can we act.\" An interesting thought from a currency that was still full of residue from an FBI sting to catch bank robbers, Bill thought. Just as he was remembering the short good times he had with Flimsy during such a dark time in his life, damp and stuck to the side of John's pocket, he heard a door open and noises everywhere. Where was he? Another one of the sick places John had taken him before? How he hoped he could just be spent and move on with his dull existence, how he missed those days. Suddenly he was removed from his cave and shoved into a crevice of some woman, although he couldn't quite tell where.\n\nSMACK!! \"What the fuck is the matter with you, bitch?\", he heard John shout. Wait, was he finally free? Bill did not want to give up hope, but after so much time in that church he did not want to get excited too early. Suddenly he was taken out of the crevice he was in and placed into the side of the woman's garments. This was new, he had never been inside such a compartment before with such a clear view, but he now saw John being attacked by a large man and dragged away. Could it be? Yes! Bill had finally found a new home. Right when he let out a crinkle of release, he heard a voice. \"Hey Bill, it's good to see you.\" By some miracle Flimsy had arrived at the same destination, and for the first time in longer than he could remember Bill felt a slight note of happiness.\n\nEdit: I kind of derped and missed the awkward part in the title, so there's nothing awkward about this story. I'm going to leave it up anyway though.", "It was an average Sunday, and church was nearing it's end for the day. Collection plates were being passed around while Father Dominic carefully reminded everyone of the church's need for a new nursery. Slowly the plates made their way through the pews collecting dollars here and there with the occasional 5 or 20.\n\nGeorge had just been placed in the plate and turned to greet the crisp new dollar bill next to him. \"Morning friend. A good day to be with God is it not?\"\n\nAlexander looked at this new dollar and smiled. \"Yes it is. Blessings to you. I'm Alex. It's been a wonderful service today hasn't it?\"\n\"Yes, I love the book of genesis. Kinda makes me think of the big picture.\"\n\"I agree makes you feel small but important to the eyes of God.\"\n\nThe pleasantries and small talk of the two dollars continued until they fell into the natural silence that money enjoys. The plate was passed around until everyone who was going to give had done so, and the church was empty save for church staff. Father Dominic counted the day's donations in his office. \n\n\"Seventy-eight, seventy-nine, eighty, eighty-one. That's all? A small amount today. With the economy the way it is I don't really blame them. Oh well.\"\n\nHe chuckled to himself and slid the stack of money off of his desk and into a box labeled 'Below $100'.\n\nOne week later George was awakened from his sleep by the sound of music playing. Confused as to what was happening, he listened for clues as to where he was. (Money is good at doing that)\n\n\"And now give it up for the girl of the hour, Sapphire!\"\n\nThere was applause and the wallet he was in was opened, basking the contents in light. There were a lot if other dollars I here, but he didn't get a chance to look before the were pulled out. With only enough time for George to take one breath of fresh(ish) air, he was flung at the stage along with the rest of his stack. The target of the money picked him up and slid him into the blue fabric of a G-string. \n\nThis wasn't a convenience store or other decent establishment! No, this was much more...adult. George was disgusted with himself. How did he end up here? Last he knew he was at the church! \n\nGeorge hardly had anymore time to think when he was interrupted by wild yelling far away. While he couldn't discern the exact words, he knew it was getting closer. The woman he was on was passing up another few dollars. \"Woo! Yea baby! How much to take it off? Come on gurl! Just a peek! Aw yea, in the G-string!\"\n\nGeorge was astounded. The voice was familiar, yet the words were so foul. He knew nobody that would frequent a place like this. It was then that he saw Alexander from church slide in beside him. Alex on the other hand had taken no notice to George. \"That's what I'm talking about! Yes!\"\n\"Alex? Is that you?\"\n\nAlex was surprised. He'd never seen anyone who recognized him at places like this. \"Oh, George? Hey man, what's uh... What's up?\"\n\"Was that you yelling a moment ago?\"\n\"What? Me? Absolutely not. I've been er, sleeping. Yea.\"\n\nAlex tried to play it off cool, but George wasn't buying it.\n\"Sleeping... Okay then. Do you come to places like this often?\"\n\"No, well, I've been a few times. I guess.\" \n\nGeorge had to hold himself from saying anything rude.\"A few times huh? Alright then. Sorry to interrupt you I suppose. It was... Good seeing you again.\"\n\" Yea, you too. See you at church next week?\"\n\"We'll see.\"\n\nGeorge has been thinking about the new church across from the school.\n\nsorry if this is long, got in the zone", "As Bill was stuffed into the stockings of a young harlet, a feeling of familiarity came over him. It was a welcome change from the cold emptiness he felt in the hands of the withered old pawnshop owner. Bill folded to his right, wild with anticipation of the cause of his euphoria and could tell in that very instant what it was. The slight smear across \"In God We Trust\" told him that it was Frank! \n\nUpon grabbing his attention Frank slowly turned and met the gaze of whomever was calling to him, gloomy-eyed and blank his eyes bore right through Bill's. For an instant, Frank recognized his old friend and they shared a warm smile only the closest of friends could know. This moment was shattered upon another dollar being slipped in.\n\n\"He..hey Frank.\"\n\"..Bill..\"\n" ]	6
[WP] Your entire life has actually been a dream.	[WP] Your entire life has actually been a dream. You wake up in a hospital bed and have been told you were in a coma for X years. You have no idea who the people are around you.	[ "I suppose this is a part two of a [WP] that I did a few weeks ago. Which can be found here. \n\nhttp://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2psq2f/wp_for_years_a_room_in_your_house_has_been_locked/\n\nBright white light filled her vision and suddenly she was lying on her back on a bed of some sorts. She flung her hand in front of her face as if she could shut off the lights by willing it, all of a sudden the dark of the basement seemed more comforting than this blinding assault. A lady in a nurse outfit stood in the doorway with her hands over her mouth, her eyebrows arched in surprise. Quickly recovering, the nurse turned to someone out of sight and spoke in a calm yet determined voice. \n\n\"Kelly, go get doctor Heevy, Alexandra is awake.\"\n\nDoctor Heevy came in shortly after nurse called to inspect Alex himself, quickly running her through awareness tests and basically catching her up to speed with what happened which in turn helped jog her memories before the coma. There was an assault, she fought back. That was all Alex could recall that felt like her own memories as opposed to tidbits of someone else's life that the good doctor was simply telling her about. \n\nWhile the Dr. Heevy was doing his routine Alex took the time to take a look down at herself. Her arms were stick thin, her cheekbones seemed to threaten to rip open her skin, she couldn't feel any excess fat on her body. Alex looked up after the cursory look at herself and found that the only mirror in the room was positioned so that she could catch a chunk of her own reflection in it. The person who stared back at her was a stranger. \n\nShe knew instinctively that being in a coma for an extended period of time would result in some weight loss, but the muscle degradation was something else entirely. Alex knew she wasn't fat before the coma, the absence of loose skin affirmed that much, but now she looked like a skeleton had put on a wig of wavy brown hair instead of a human being. Bony fingers found her own face as she traced a scar that ran in a sickeningly jagged line across her throat and her eyes found another going from her temple and curling upward into her hair line. \n\n\"I look like shit,\" Alex croaked. \"I hope Jaren didn't see me like this.\" \n\nThe doctor shifted in his seat, his eyes flickered to the side and he wet his lips obviously a bit uncomfortable. She could see it in his eyes and his body posture, Heevy leaned slightly away from her, his back straight and his eyes never really meeting hers. Something was wrong here, why would Heevy be so uncomfortable after his very professional \"welcome back to the land of not being in a coma\" bit. \n\nAnd then she blanked. Who was Jaren and why would she care if he saw her in this state. \n\nHe must have been my boyfriend she concluded after a moment of thought. \n\nSomething was still amiss however and the good doctor seemed to have enough of the answers to let Alex back into the loop, therefore it was up to her to pry those answers out of him. \n\n\"Doctor.\" She said sternly. \n\nHeevy stopped fidgeting as his focus snapped to Alex's gaunt face. \n\n\"Look at me and tell me exactly what happened.\"\n\nAs their eyes made contact Alex felt a head rush and time seemed to slow down. Before her eyes scenes that made no sense were playing out. \n\n-----------------------------------------------\n\n\"Kelly. Kelly! What's the situation with the patient?\" A male voice inquired coming from what seemed to be Alex's mouth. \n\nKelly gave a squeak of surprise and turned around to face Alex then turned back forwards when Alex joined her on the other side of the gurney next to another nurse. The wheels of the medical gurney rattled down a sterile white hall. Alex could see herself looking at a nurse, Kelly, from an angle that didn't quite make sense, she knew Kelly was of equal height to herself.\n\n\"Sorry doctor Heevy, please don't sneak up on me like that, you know how jumpy I get!\"\n\n\"The patient Kelly?\"\n\n\"Oh right. White Female, 21 years old, intense blunt force trauma to the head, one large laceration located on the throat, and one gunshot wound to her left scapula. No exit on that gunshot wound, but it'll have to wait till we get this poor girls throat fixed.\"\n\nAlex, or rather doctor Heevy nodded as he, Kelly, and a few other nurses jogged toward the ICU. \n\n\"Poor girl,\" Kelly said, frowning at the body. \"The escaped convicts broke into her house during their family New Years party and held everyone for hostage when they realized they couldn't shake the police. I just don't understand how the raid went so far south so fast. Apparently the paramedics on scene threw up there was so much gore.\" \n\nKelly shook her head again. \n\n\"Poor thing is gonna wake up without a family.\"\n\n------------------------------------------------\n\nHeevy shook his head and cast his eyes down again and sighed. \n\n\"Alex what you need now is food and relaxation, I can't have you jumping head first into trying to remember what happened prior to your year long coma.\"\n\nEyes wide after what she had just seen, Alex nodded and murmured something positive and laid back down on her bed. Doctor Heevy seemed to take this as a sign of obedience and left the room with a slightly twisted mouth, as if he had just tasted something incredibly bad, leaving Alex alone with her thoughts. \n\n\n", "I look around to find myself pondering the beauty of the world. I was atop Black Mountain gazing off into a sunset that melted the valley around it. From this elevation I thought I might be able to stretch my eyes as much to see the city of Phoenix. A beautiful life I was living in a beautiful world with the most beautiful person by my side.\n\nTo this day I'm still unclear as to how I had gotten so lucky. I gripped her hand as tightly as I could and gazed into the eyes that showed me the true beauty of one's soul. A flicker of those sky blue eyes reminded me of the one phrase she had said when we had first met. A phrase that has reverberated throughout my skull since. A phrase used so skillfully that swept my heart from pieces and completed the puzzle of love. When I was in my darkest moment my chin had been lifted up by my blue-eyed angel, and she told me, \"Why be in dismay? There is such a beautiful life ahead you have to live.\" That was all it was, it was as simple as a flick of a switch. My life had been turned around.\n\nAs the sun dipped beyond the mountains as we climbed back into the mud-stained jeep. We sang with joy to the radio as the streetlights started to fade back into view. We were both young and wild, craving to set our minds free of worry and doubt of the past. The future was nothing but great things to come. We had planned to travel all throughout the four corner states. With our curiosity and bizarre dreams leading the way it seemed like it was to be a safe haven from the troubles of life. Oh what an adventure it would be! I glanced over to see her sticking her out the window and shouting lyrics to some band I will never know. I knew there was only a few more miles left until I reached her home. We spent our hearts out on those last few miles reminding each other of all the good times to come. The constant pull of her heart kept that smile on my face all day. I stepped out from the jeep and onto the hard driveway and held her in my arms. I brushed the blonde hair from her face as I fell into a trance. In her eyes I could read the trust, honesty, and respect she felt for me as she could do the same from mine. As our lips touched, memories of 2am rooftop conversations and dancing in Target parking lots fluttered throughout my mind. We said goodbye and as she walked away I was love stricken by the beauty of her soul. I knew that tomorrow was part of the wonderful future, with her by my side.\n\nThe beams of sunshine found their way through the window and right onto my eyes. I awoke with a smile on my face, eager to start another day of life. I went through the early hours of the morning habitually. Basic hygiene maintenance, her favorite cologne, selecting my most comfortable sweatpants and shirt had been completed. I opened the door to a rush of refreshing spring air. The birds were singing their songs as the thin branches they sat on quivered in the wind. Once again I stepped into my jeep ready for another adventure.\n\nShe was already in the driveway when I arrived. We flashed each other smiles and giggled a little bit as she climbed into the jeep. I put my trusty vehicle into drive and my foot hovered over the gas pedal. I glanced down at my leg to find it shaking uncontrollably. I received a very concerned \"are you okay\" from the passenger seat. My whole body had begun shivering. Frantically glancing around I was unable to focus on one point of my surroundings. My heart rate and breathing were increasing rapidly as if I had just finished the mile in 7th grade. My vision was now blurred and all I could hear in my ears was a helpless cry out to first responders. My vision was now fading, my hearing was impaired as well. I blinked so rapidly all I could see was blurry figures standing around me. Thank goodness, the first responders were here. During this moment I believed I was losing and gaining consciousness every so often. I slowly regained fuzzy vision when I noticed these were not first responders at all. \n\nMy neck ached with cramps, I was unable to move it. I glanced around the room and to my confusion I found multiple doctors and nurses cheering and clapping. The most elderly of the staff leaned closer to me and whispered, \"It has been five years, welcome back.\" The words echoed throughout my mind as I spiraled into confusion. Out of the corner of my eye I was able to see a window where an elderly couple had embraced and were in tears. I wondered if my angel had come to visit me while I was in recovery. Something wasn't right. This was too much. A rush of pain flowed into my head and my vision had faded again. I lost consciousness with extreme confusion and dismay on my mind.\n\nI had awaken once again. Only this time there were no blinding lights and cheering hospital staff members. It was a hospital room. A simplest of ones in fact, a small television hung from the wall in front of me, a window that had a spectacular view of an unknown ocean. A table to the left of myself had various clipboards and pill bottles occupying what little space it provided. I glanced at my arm and noticed an IV in my right elbow. My eyes followed the tube until they laid on the IV drip. It was a unwelcoming feeling to have foreign liquids be forced into my bloodstream. My thoughts were interrupted when the door swung open over to the far left of the room. I was unable to see who had entered the room, but I had heard them pick up a clipboard so I assumed it was hospital staff. \n\n\"Unbelievable,\" said the female voice, \"You have been in a coma for five years.\" The words rattled through my entire body. I was very unsettled by this but couldn't bring myself to say anything so I let the silence hang for a moment.\n\n\"Once you began to wake up we contacted the only relatives known, your parents,\" she continued.\n\n\"That can't be,\" I croaked as I mustered all my energy to speak. \"My girlfriend was with me when I went into the coma.\"\n\n\"I know the morphine may have a slight effect for a little while but it will fade away soon,\" the nurse suggested comfortingly. \"The car crash you were in was very brutal. I saw it on the news!\"\n\nI had felt like someone had shot me and I needed to throw up. This can't be. I had built a whole life and prosperous future with the only person that gave me true happiness. I couldn't even imagine what this misinformed nurse was going on about. There was no possible way I was dreaming. All the memories felt too real.\n\n\"I am very surprised you don't have a girlfriend Mr...\" she said as she flipped threw the pages searching for a name. The pages stopped abruptly and the woman's footsteps came closer to me. I was now able to see her face for the first time.\n\n\"Well my name is Caitlin, I'll be one of your nurses while you are in recovery,\" she said. I looked up into this woman's blue eyes and there was almost something comforting about them. She looked to be relatively the same age as me. Her long blonde hair dangled over her eyes in an almost familiar way. It immediately reminded me of the comforting feeling I had received while I was in the coma. My mind was rushing. I struggled to process the fact that all that had happened in the coma was just some sort of dream. It was just gone, like a flick of a switch. A tear streamed down my face as I suddenly just felt the need to let my emotions out. The nurse instantly gave a look of sympathy to me. She could tell they were not tears of joy of waking up to a new life. They were tears of longing and sorrow.\n\n\"Well you know what I always tell patients like this,\" she started. \"I always remind the people that come into this building thinking that they have lost something only one thing.\" I was able to look up at the nurse briefly to show I was paying attention, despite feeling that my world was crumbling around me. I felt depression creeping into my heart, ready to take it away at first chance. I focused back onto the sky blue eyes of the nurse.\n\n\"Why be in dismay? There is such a beautiful life ahead you have to live.\"" ]	2
	[WP] Introduce yourself to me and make me extremely frightened of you, but only with your last sentence.	[ "I absolutely love my job! I devote all of my life too it , heavy research only to further improve myself at what i do. It is incredibly well paying and i have a rather good life. I meet a lot of people too, though i travel so i never really interact with them again afterwards. I'm very popular, there are many who know me but they don't know my real name. Are you here for an interview? Oh you have business for me, you see that's the problem i was just recently hired so ill have to get back to you when im finished with that job. \nCould you do me a favour? pass me that knife. Yeah the one on the wall, next to the sniper rifle. \n\n\nI'd like you to meet my business partner.", "Hi, my names Dave. Thanks for letting me. Come to this grief support group. I'm 29. In my free time I really enjoy going for runs. I love the fresh air, and the exercise makes me feel great. But the reason I started running was because of my dog, Jasper. He was always so active. At least, until he got older. He hadn't been himself for months so I guess I shouldn't have been so shocked, but... Well you guys know what its like to lose someone close to you. Even if its just a pet. At least I can take comfort in knowing how good he tasted.", "Hi, I'm your new next door neighbour. I made you some cookies to welcome you to the neighbourhood. I also came round to ask if they told you about the person who lived here last. No? Ohhh... Okay. No one really knows what happened. He just went missing one day. Maybe if he'd been a law abiding guy, he'd still be here. Everyone was saying he was a dealer. Oh well. Blood makes roses grow better anyway. ", "I'm going with \"he\" for this, sorry if you're a girl.\n\nKikkeroog sighed and absentmindedly stirred his coffee. He stared at his laptop. Why is the Internet so damn slow... He thought to himself, and made a mental note to pick a different café when his next research paper came around. His eyes were glued to loading bar, which crawling along. A mental timer began to count down the seconds. One one-thousand... Two one-thousand... Three one-thousand... Four one-thous...\n\n\"Hey! It's you!\"\n\nKikkeroog slowly snapped out of his daze, and glanced towards the voice. He was greeted by a young woman, most likely no older than 25. \n\n\"Remember me?\" She asked.\n\nKikkeroog shook his head. The woman looked briefly disappointed, but quickly cheered up again.\n\n\"Oh... Well I'm Honey-Beezenees, but everyone calls me Beeze. You'd think they'd call me Honey, but I don't like that much. Sounds weird, ya'know?\" She plopped into the chair opposite of Kikkeroog, \"so what are you working on?\"\n\nKikkeroog sighed. He really didn't have time for this, but, not wanting to be rude, he responded anyway.\n\n\"A research paper.\" He said, more bluntly than intended.\n\n\"Oh I love research papers! Most people don't but I really love it when I get to do them ya'know? You just get to learn so much new stuff!\" Beeze said, seemingly in a single breath. \n\nKikkeroog sighed \"I don't really like them, but you've gotta do what you've gotta do.\" \n\n\"Yeah. I just like them because I like learning. What's your topic?\"\n\nGreat... One of those people that can't take a hint... Kikkeroog thought.\n\n\"Human sexuality.\" \n\n\"Cool! I've never taken a sexuality class but I think it's interesting. Maybe I should. Are you sure you don't remember me?\"\n\nKikkeroog slumped his shoulders.\n\n\"Yes. I'm 100% sure I don't remember you.\" \n\nBeeze paused \"yeah, I guess you wouldn't. You were asleep after all. Anyway I've got to get going\"", "She entered the cafe with confidence, her blonde hair was tied up in a no - nonsense bun that didn't help her battle with bitchy resting face syndrome. She scanned the room and met my gaze, I nodded in hopeful recognition, her demeanour didn't change, not a hint of emotion as she walked towards me. I stood up to welcome her, she took her seat without acknowledgement, leaving me standing alone and awkward, typical. \n\nI sat. She stared. She glanced at her phone. \n\n\"Hi, nice to meet you\" I smiled as politely as I could. \"I'm glad you came, it's been wonderful getting to know you\"\n\nShe looked disinterested, I'm bombing badly.\n\n\"So..\" I cleared my throat \"I, umm, well obviously I'm Tim, this is one of my favourite coffee houses, I thought it'd be a nice place to meet\"\n\nShe nodded and looked around. Maybe she was as nervous as I am, I couldn't hold that against her. \n\n\"Hi Tim, it's nice to finally meet you, too. It's your favourite place, so you don't live far from here?\"\n\nI relaxed a little. \n\n\"Not too far, it's a lovely neighbourhood, very safe and family orientated\"\n\nOh shit, why did I say that. \"I mean, it's just a friendly place, I feel comfortable here\"\n\nShe smiled, I could feel the awkwardness rise from my stomach and show on my face.\n\n\"Tim\" She's finally relaxing too. \"What do you usually order?\"\n\n\"I really enjoy their salads, I'm quite specific about how I like them and the staff here are very accommodating to my nuances\".. Oh man, i'm ridiculous.\n\n\"Great, well I think I'll have a salad too then. Do you like to read?\" She's asking question, this is going much smoother.\n\n\"I do, I'm a big Stephen King fan\". She glances at her phone again.\n\n\"Tim, I'd like you to do me a favour, can you do that for me?\"\n\nThis is interesting, her demeanour has changed, she isn't rigid anymore, she's relaxing. \n\n\"What is it Sally?\" \n\n\"Tim, can we do this another time? I'm sorry I've just had something come up, but it's not to do with you, okay\"\n\nSally stood up. I scowled, this is very rude, very rude indeed.\n\nSally smile as the police swooped in \"It was nice to meet you, Tim\"\n\nThis Bitch. How dare she, after everything I've done for her. Flowers on her doorstep, phone calls, text messages, I've done nothing but bend over backwards for her. protected her from creeps. This bitch.\n\n\"Fuck you, Sally, I've seen who you really are and I loved you anyway, the cameras don't lie, I'll be seeing you\".\n", "(I've just knocked on your door, and you've opened it for me)\n\nHello there! My name is [REDACTED]. I just moved in next door, and I wanted - oh, you saw the moving trucks? Yeah, sorry about those! I had a lot of things to move in here - they must have been coming in all week, haha.\n\nAnyway, I just wanted to introduce myself and get to know some people in the neighborhood. This is a lovely place, isn't it? So much greener than where I used to live. I've always wanted to stay in a place like this, you know - a much better place to raise a family. \n\nYeah, I'm married - no kids yet, but in a place like this, who knows, right? My wife's still out of town, she'll be moving in a couple of days from now. Are you - oh, I'd love to meet your husband some time!\n\nAnyway, I should be getting back now - still got some more moving to do, you know how it is. I still really want to see more of this neighborhood, though...it's just so much nicer than where I used to live.\n\n...Where did I used to live? Hrm...well, I suppose you might call it a sketchier part of town. You know, a bit past the CBD, the...yeah, the projects, I guess. Well, either way I've just had a reversal of fortunes, and now I don't have to stay in that mess anymore.\n\n...Did I get a promotion or something? Um. Well, not exactly. To be honest, a lot of my income there didn't exactly come from what you would call gainful employment. Oh no, none of that - no need for the shocked look! I was a landowner. I rented out apartments and - I mean, I guess the word slumlord is technically accurate, but I'm not sure it's the most complimentary term. \n\nOh no, don't worry, it's not prying at all. I'm pretty open about all this. You see, I just changed my attitude towards my resources, you know? Less wasteful spending, more making my properties work for me. I realized that there were a lot of loopholes that money was flowing out of, and that it'd be relatively simple for me to fix them. After that, I'd be getting a huge wad of cash, and saving so much on maintenance and upkeep. Win-win, you feel? \n\nSo yeah, I burned the building down for the insurance money. Anyway, I really should get going - nice to meet you! \n\n(I stroll away down the driveway)", "You probably don’t remember me but we met a few weeks ago. You were working at the time. You were wearing those little black shorts. You know the ones. You always wear them at the start of the week, right after you've done your washing. When you smiled at me over the counter and asked me how I was I could tell you were a really genuine person.\n\nBy the way do you mind if I ask, who was Jacob? I saw him on your Facebook. Was that your boyfriend? I actually ran into him the other day.\n\nHuh? No, I'm not friends with him.\n\nAnyway, you’re walking home from work now right? I'm walking the same way, want to walk together?" ]	7
	[WP] You find out that humans have a built in death timer. You manage to check your timer. It ominously displays, "30 seconds remaining."	[ "30 seconds, that's all I was left with. 30 goddamn seconds. Wasn't even given a minute. \n\nI had heard rumours that a \"death clock\" would show up on a person's forearm when they had half an hour to live so they could sort their business before crossing over. I only got 30 goddamn seconds. What could I achieve in half a minute that would assure me a place in \"heaven\". \n\nI couldn't right my wrongs, say my peace to my loved ones, anything like that.\n\nWe are all supposedly born with this \"death clock\". We may be given a time to die from birth. \n\nI know you've probably all seen those Facebook prediction about when you die. I'm sure you've all guessed they were a joke. But maybe they aren't. \n\nSo what did I do with my 30 seconds? \n\nI cursed God for not giving me enough time. I'm only 45. That's a terrible life span, I deserved more! \n\nI watched the time count down, it seemed to go in slow motion. I couldn't even begin to think how to fix my life. \n\nMy wife hated me but stayed married to me for the kids. They hated me too. I understand why though, I always loved to drink more than I ever loved them. \n\nI was an embarrassment who couldn't hold a job. They deserved better than me.\n\nI called out to my wife as the timer his 5 seconds. She ignored me as usual, probably online chatting with her lover.\n\nIt faded to black.\n\n\nI opened my eyes to see a man at a large white desk. He asked me what I did with my time. I cursed him as well, saying 30 seconds wasn't enough time. \n\nHe replied;\n\n\"Given how you felt about your family, friends and life we felt 30 seconds should have been more than enough time to make your peace. You frequently wished for death and we finally gave it to you and now you complain because you didn't have enough time to right your wrongs to make it to heaven.\" \n\nI sunk down in my chair knowing where this was heading.\n\n\"Mr. Ludwig you haven't achieved anything beneficial in your life. You were selfish and only cared for yourself. You frequently sinned for pathetic reasons. Those who are going to hell get less time, because they tend to be the ones who are more desperate to right their wrongs and generally achieve it faster. Also we believe those who have contributed to society and their loved ones deserve more time to say goodbye. Your health was terrible and you had been shaving years off your clock at a rapid rate.\" The man said with a shocking bluntness. His face showed no emotion but I could tell he thought I was scum. \n\nI begged for a second chance, to make a change, to make it right. The man scoffed and pushed a button. \n\n\nI woke up in hell. \n\nI know this is where I belong. I should have appreciated my life and loved ones while I had the chance but I know they are better without me.\n\nTo everyone reading, thank a loved one for being there, I never did and you never know when your clock will show up...\n\nThe end.\n\n", "Ya know how they say when faced with your own demise there are a bunch of steps and how you go through all of them. And end up accepting it. Ya that's complete bullshit.\n\nI'll tell you what happens, here are your precious steps that you go through in your last 30 seconds. The First like 3 seconds is staring at the timer count down to the end of your feeble exsistance then complete and crippling fear. That fear will hold you for the remainder of what ever little amount of time you have left. \n\nAt 17 seconds panic sets in. Your breathing accelerates, and motions become frantic. Thoughts become clouded\n\nFor me the time was 24 seconds. you see I just so happened to be shaving when I discovered my fate. and then there he was. A stranger in my house. A home intruder this is how I was to die. He had a knife a big ass knife. I was stabbed in my stomach but I used my last breath to slice his neck deep with my razor. \n\nThat is when I made the biggest discovery about our race. If it is your true death time and you yourself take another life then you will be saved. I passed out my wife came home to find a dead man and me passed out laying next to him.She left me that hurt but I was alive no one lived after there clock stopped. I didn't do any time but I'm starting to think that I got a worse fate than any prison sentence. My clock now constantly flashes 00:00. 00:00. 00:00" ]	2
	[WP] A group of Amish extremists plan a series of violent attacks to dissuade people from using modern technology	[ "Jacob had been thinking about it all day. What would this new life be like. Thoughts filled his head as he scraped his name into the dining room table as smoke bellowed out of the wood stove, filling the room. He could not even think of why he was carving his name. Maybe he felt he would never come back. Maybe he felt as if he COULD never come back. Sure he was doing it for them, but could they allow him back when this was all done. Regardless, at least his name would be carved in this table for a while. No matter what happens. \n\nJust then Jacobs father walks in. Choking on the smoke he opens a window and then turns around to see Jacob at the table. \"What are you doing to the table Jacob\" he said. \n\n\"Just wanted to leave a part of myself behind I guess\". Jacob replied. \n\nJacobs father sat down next to him. Silent. Searching for the right words. He wanted to tell his son it would be alright. He wanted to tell him that even after he committed these sins, that he was welcome back because he did it for the good of his people. He wanted to assure him that someday, the world would be theirs to build together. The correct way. But this was no time for weakness. Not time to feel it, not time to show it. So all that came out was. \"Work heard, learn their technology, find its weakness. That is your job. That is whats expected of you.\"\n\nJacobs heart sank. He questioned why he was even doing this. Why he would go interact with these gizmos and gadgets. Why he would talk to sinners who use these items. And why even after promising to do this task. This task nobody else could do but all knew was necessary. After saying yes to the task that was asked of him. Why still his father could not show him any sign that he was proud. \n\nAs Jacobs father walked out the door. He paused. Again for a long time. Jacob just watched him. Never blinking. Then his father spoke.\n\n\"Your chair will be waiting for your return.\" he said as he closed the door behind him.\n\nJacob smiled. ", "Troyers lunged at the police officer.\n\n\"Death to the infidels!\" he cried as he raised his pitchfork and --\n\nWas filled with 9mm faster than you could say \"repent.\"\n\nYeah, it's not such a bright idea to stage a terrorist attack on America when you can't use any technology past the 1800's." ]	2
Here's a couple to get you thinking, feel free to use these, or make your own. * Is one famous or important person worth more than thousands of unimportant people? * What would you do for a billion dollars? * Death penalty, or other controversial topic. * At what point is it okay to kill, steal, etc.? Explore all the ins and outs of these topics, don't stick with your opinion, look from others.	[WP] Pick a moral conundrum, and weave it into a story that will give me something to think about.	[ "It wasn't until the blood pooled around me that I began to consider how wrong the world was. My heart was trying so hard to hold on and keep me alive, but what was the point? \nI was nothing special and yet by being alive, my life should've been worth as much as anyone else's. It didn't seem fair that he could take it all away from me. \nI coughed again and more blood splattered the cement. A little bit of it dripped down my chin and onto my bare chest. My lungs felt heavy as if tons of lead were piled up within them. The never ending darkness around me made me feel like death had already accepted me. \nI could hear his footsteps upstairs. He would be coming down for the daily or weekly or hourly show. I couldn't measure time when I was trapped. \nHow was it fair that he could take away my humanity? I was born into this world just as he was. I was human too. My heart wanted me to cry but I was too dehydrated to form tears. Instead, I whimpered. \nA crack of light found itself next to me. I turned away from the brightness and closed my eyes. His steps were heavy and clumsy on the stairs; he must have gotten drunk beforehand as he did sometimes. There was a sloshing sound that was carried with him. \nHis fingers were underneath my chin. \"Such a beautiful girl.\" He said drunkenly. \"I hate beautiful girls. You're all whores that think you are worth every dollar in the world. You shouldn't get to live. You're lucky I even give you the pleasure of fucking me.\"\nI wanted to cry so badly. It was impossible to lie there with my hands zip-tied behind my back and listen to his horrible voice demean me. I was nothing more than a pitiful animal, nothing that was worth anyone's time. \nHe unzipped his pants and raped me. I screamed in agony as he beat me senseless and slammed my head against the wall. \"You disgust me. You should be thankful that I treat you as well as I do.\" \nHe came in me and quickly pulled away. I could barely move, barely open my eyes. My heart wanted to give out because what was the point in living? Life is just a place to die. Life is just the torture before sweet release. \nHe poured something over me. It stank of gasoline and made want to puke, if I had anything in my system to throw up. \n\"I'm done with your worthlessness. Have fun burning in Hell.\" I opened my eyes and watched as the match was struck and set the fire coursing through my veins. He was right, he must have been right. I was nothing and I never would have been. I was nothing more than a pitiful animal that had to be put down. ", "\n Sunlight burned orange through the gun-smoke. Arrick coughed into his fist, winced at the blood that spattered his hand and rolled onto his back. Around him the wreck he had made lay still, like some twisted masterpiece; an eternal moment seared into his memory. Men and women lay scattered about, rent into inhuman shapes by the many hands of death. Using the wall for support he dragged himself upright, and staggered for the door. The click of a cocking hammer stopped him short.\n “Don’t you fucking move stranger.” The voice was cracked with grief. Hearing it sent a razor of regret lancing through Arrick’s chest. \n“Calm, honey-“\n“I ain’t your fucking honey, you hear?” Behind him he heard the stifling of a sob. “Turn around and look at me you sonofabitch.” Arrick closed his eyes and held his guilt at bay a moment longer. Then he turned. A young woman; a whore if he had to guess, stood opposite him. Tears streaked her face, and blood streaked her hands, her dress was torn, and in her shaking hand, she held a six-shooter.\n“I just want you to know why-“\n“Shut your fucking mouth!” She screamed over him, and her free hand came flying up to join its counterpart and wrapped around the butt of the gun. The barrel palsied in the air before him, and with a heavy heart he realised that he would not die here. “I want you to know something, stranger. I want you to see my face when I shoot you dead. I want you to say the names of them you killed.” Her expression flickered between rage and grief, and Arrick could see the madness seeping in as she gazed at the carnage around them. She steeled herself, and met his eyes once more; \n“Jody and Michael.” She whispered the names softly, “Brett, James, and Al.” With every name she spoke her voice gained a little more steel and her hands steadied. “Sasha and Ed. Agnes and Lily, and Kyle, and Freda, and Bob.” He stood still and waited till she was done. “Look me in my eye you sonofabitch and say the names!” \nHe took a step forward and stared into the storm within her eyes. “No.” He said simply. She screamed in wordless grief when his hand caught the barrel of the revolver. He wrenched the gun upwards and three shots blasted into the roof. His fist crashed into her temple and knocked her sprawling into a table. He pulled his own gun free and ended her pleading with a single bullet. \n\nAs he stumbled through the blood and the dust, out of the wreck he had made of the town and down the trail to home, he felt like weeping, but could bring no tears to wash away the shame of what he had done.\n He arrived at home a broken man; a wordless, staring shell of a man. He fell to his knees beside the graveside; one hand traced the lines of her name, while the other was locked white-knuckle tight around the handle of his gun.\n“I found her, honey.” He whispered through his tears, “I made them pay for what they had done. All of them, I gave no mercy.” He choked on his words as they tumbled out; “But they had her so fucked up she didn’t even recognise me. She cursed me for what I’d done to the monsters who stole her from me. From us.” He curled up foetal atop the grave of his wife. “She called me stranger… And I couldn’t stop myself.”\n When he awoke the sun was rising, and from horizon to horizon all he could see was the desolation that was his world now. The ground was all ash, and dust, and blood. The sky was a veil of filthy, yellowed clouds. Only the sun shone bright in the wasteland, but its light did not touch him. All the light had gone from his life. He stared down, unblinking, at the gun he held in his bloody hand, and saw his only escape. He raised it to his temple and the creak of the trigger before the shot was the last thing he ever heard.\n Sunlight burned orange through the gun-smoke.\n", "My girlfriend's name is Mary Jane, as her parents became older and grew into their respectability, they tried to claim she was named after the character from the Spiderman comics or after an Irish grandmother on her mother's side. Anything really, other than Ma and Pa being stoners who thought it was a good idea at the time.\n\nMary Jane embraces her name, she thinks her parents are amusing with their upstanding citizenship. Not in a malicious way, their is nothing about Mary Jane that is nasty, she just smiles at her folks and carries on trying to convert them to whatever cause she's championing this week. Because that's what my girl is all about, she's like an elite amateur activist, she gets behind a cause and devotes her whole ideal to it. \n\nI had actually met Mary Jane through her activism; during fresher's week she was distributing leaflets for organ donation. I had no clue what she was handing out, I just thought she looked endearing with her tee shirt and a pony tail bobbing from the back of her head. It wasn't until I had gotten back to my dorm and was looking at her phone number on the flyer that I saw what was typed on in it in a garish font, \"Live life, then give life.\"\n\nI felt queasy just looking at it, I thought at the time I should just lose Mary Jane's number, surely if this was the sort of thing she supported than pretty girl or not she wasn't the girl for me. Still, there was something about her, some intangible quality, despite her parent's poor judgement around the time of her conception and birth, she was (is) articulate, funny and enthusiastic about her misguided beliefs. \n\nWhen my Dad rang after Sunday Service we talked at length, he advised me to talk to the Good Lord but warned me of Satan's uses of temptresses in the hearts of righteous people. We came up with a plan, our own type of activism, Dad got the prayer group involved and we worked out our scheme, \"Save Mary Jane\". We are going to show her how the devil is working through her misguided altruism, we're made in God's image and if he wanted us whole it would happen in the blink of an eye. Organ donation is just Satan playing on our fears, using science to break the will of the prayerful.\n\nJoin me brothers and sisters, #savemaryjane let's stop the evil of organ donation in it's tracks!\n\n...........................................................\n\n(Author disclaimer: this is the views of my character, not me. You can't take them with you!)", "There was a boy, Alston. Not a boy, in age respect, but a boy deep down, because aren't we all? \n\n23 years old, an aspiring novelist but the kind that daydreamed all the time, instead of doing. To become one of the greats in his passion, he will be, he thought to himself. Most would daydream on perhaps what one could write and the stories he could tell. But no, the glory of being famous what was he most desired. \n\nShallow of him isn't it? Oh but is it? You see, Alston was a virgin. Never dated a girl, never kissed. Social anxiety - he blamed. He had a hard time socializing, even with his own gender. He didn't know what to talk about, he was too self aware, and self-centered. \n\nIn the absence of love in his life, he confused true love and sex. And so he was motivated in his dreams, to be a glorified writer so women would flocked to him in the masses. Fame and money attracted woman of superficiality, but Alston convinced himself that at least one woman would love him over time, truly for who he was. Though initially she would be interested only in his wealth, they would grow together. So was he shallow to seek love through such superficial means?\n\nThe devil appeared before Alston one day, offered him a choice many men would not refuse. To kill someone, anyone, in order to have the rest of your life spent with the woman of your dreams. It was a very easy choice for Alston. It was a perfect escape for him from his predicament: the only way for Alston to not spend the rest of his life alone, and to die devoid of love. \n\nA man before Alston appeared, hooded, and tied to a chair. A glock in Alston hands, he aimed at the man in the chair and fired. The devil told him to take the hood off the man. \n\nIt was his father. For a moment, he seemed to choke. Only a moment. Then Alston said: \n\n\"Where's my woman?\"\n", "One thing they should mention in the pamphlet is that if you lack a sense of smell, war is a perfect place for you. Otherwise, unless you enjoy a cocktail of corpses, vomit, feces and rats strewn around like kites, you would best stay home.\n\n\nIt was late April, and the spring shows had arrived in full force. I was stationed in a small town named Ypres, which appropriately enough was small enough that you would assume nothing of significance would occur. Being of Belgian blood which immigrated to Canada, the outbreak of war brought me back to this now desecrated cemetery of bodies. \n\n\nThe rains and artillery made it such that we couldn't move anywhere with ease. Our offensives, as were the Germans, were wholly and completely futile. My position near the front as a post guard, I had the luxury of having an umbrella, camouflaged by mud and twigs. \n\n\nAn unusually strong artillery from the Germans came one day, and alerts were on high. No sign of the German advance, but a brutal pounding on our trenches made for difficult work. Hours and hours the shells rained down upon us, filling our brown graveyards with debris.\n\n\nThen, it just stopped. It all happened at once. A pure and serene silence, like the silence before the storm. A storm which you are on a skipper with a hole in the back that you haven't noticed, and the sails are torn. You are without food and supplies and nothing can save you.\n\n\nA gigantic wave of frenzied Germans advanced on our position. I went running as I heard their whistle. \"ADVANCE, 100 YARDS!\"\n\n\nThe mud sloshed against my boots as I trudged towards my commanding officer. Only when I found the shell of a man I once called 'sir' riddled with shrapnel did I search for the leftover of my company. \n\n\nA sewer of fresh blood and shit everywhere littered the side of the trenches. My mind numbed as the Germans kept advancing. Their shots ringing out, coming closer and closer to my position. \n\n\nI had no rifle. I only had my side arm and a knife. There was no one around. My platoon and what appeared to be company had fallen back. \n\n\nI was alone.\n\n\nI hid in a cubbyhole where we had kept some of our hay in a room for resting, to keep it dry and found a rifle. I fixed the bayonet.\n\n\nThen I waited. For them to come. \n\n\nCovering my spot with the hay, I took shallow breaths. Each one more ragged than the one before. A nightmare among the living, a cold and bitter feeling went soaring through my body. \n\n\nThen I saw the first one. A German soldier. Old, wrinkled face with the kaiser helmet, rifle in hand, tired and worn to the bone. He was a veteran. I could barely see it until he took off his helmet. His eyes were sad, dull cow eyes numbed from the war. Then I heard a sound. \n\n\n\"Papa?\"\n\n\nA young boy, no more than 18 years of age, not old enough to have felt the warmth of a woman walked in. The resemblance was striking. \n\n\nI didn't understand what conversation they had, but in a haste, I shuffled too much trying to reach for my knife. The conversation stopped. My heart pounded.\n\n\nI saw them through the hay, both peering over to where I was hiding. The father began walking over with his rifle in hand.\n\n\nI had to make a decision.\n\n\nQuickly spraying the man with hay, I charged head on with the bayonet fixed rifle, launching it straight into the center of the man's chest. His son screamed.\n\n\nI pulled my revolver and pointed it at the son, who hurriedly had raised his arms, quickly stealing a glance at his father. \n\n\nThe old man was dying. I had managed to place the blade directly into the center of the heart, a lucky jab.\n\n\nThe father, trying to look up at his son, croaked something softly to which the son's only reply was, \"Papa?\"\n\n\nIn a split second, I made another decision. I had to kill the boy in order to live another day. The bullet that exited the gun entered the boy's head from his left eye. By the time he fell to the floor, the father's eyes connected with mine. \n\n\nThe hatred, the fear and the sadness in his eyes struck me like a rifle round. His eyes seemed to say that I would meet him in hell soon, if not today. Even with his last breath, he kept his eyes on mine. \n\n\nLive to fight another day, to kill a child and father together. ", "I always had thought that the “devil and angel on the shoulder-thing” was silly. But perhaps I had never had a moral quandary strong enough to make me understand. \n\nUntil tonight.\n\nI started innocently enough.\n\n“No one would even know.”\n\nThat was the opening salvo of the devil. And he was right. How could anyone possibly know? Who could know?\n\n“You would know.”\n\nFucking god-damned fucking angel. Of course, he is the one to pick that argument. Who uses that line, except smug little self-righteous bastards. I mean, shit. If no one but me knew, then what harm could it do? Right?\n\n“Exactly.” Said the devil.\n\n“But it isn’t fair.” The angel reminded me.\n\n“Hey, I got news for you honey.” Said the devil. “Life ain’t fair. Maybe you ought to bring that one up with your boss, you know. And, while we wait another two-thousand years for an answer, our boy here can get things done.”\n\nI started to sweat. First, just my forehead, but then my hands as well. My best friend, Bill, sat next to me, totally oblivious to my internal monologue. Totally uncaring. Totally trusting.\n\n“And guess what? There is a reason he trusts you -- because you act in a trustworthy manner.” The angel was right on point. I mean, the way you earn friendship and trust is not by betraying trust. Right?\n\n“But he will. never. know. Did you forget about that part?” \n\nShit. Devil was right, too. In purely utilitarian terms, if Bill never knew, then he couldn’t re-assess his opinion of me. \n\nThe devil was winning. I could feel my eyes starting to twitch.\n\n“Wait!” Cried the angel. “Just...wait. What about the golden rule. Do you want your trust betrayed? How do you want to be treated.”\n\n“Yeah!” Agreed the devil. “How do you want to be treated? How about being treated as a winner? And you know how you get to be treated as a winner? You win. Don’t you want to win?”\n\nI did want to win.\n\n“And it would be so easy. All you need to do is to just...look down. Just for a second.”\n\nChrist. It would be easy.\n\n“Yeah. So easy. To betray your friendship. To betray your love for eachother. To betray--”\n\nI looked. \n\nI saw Bill’s point of view on the bottom half of the TV. He was rounding the corner to the room I was in. I ducked behind a wall, and took aim. Bill ran into the room. I put the cross-hairs on his head and...\n\nIt was over. The devil had won. I betrayed my friend. \n\nBut I had won too. And it felt good.\n\nNext to me, Bill snorted, gave me a shove, and then opened a beer while he waited to respawn. “Fucking screen-watcher.”\n\n", "\"If we let him die, how many thousands-- fuck, millions, do you think are going to die because we let him slip away?\"\n\nI looked down at the bed-chamber. Lying on clean white sheets was a man I knew. Or, I guess, used to know. Dr. Jusvindar Bindhi, an acclaimed oncologist and a celebrated doctor throughout his thirty-five year long career. He was a man that came from nothing, some little mapsmear of a town in rural India, and yet despite all of that, he had come to the United States, gone to school, became a world-renowned doctor and so much more.\n\nMost people would've given an arm and a leg for that kind of success. That kind of life. I know I would've. I was lucky, though. I came up in a middle class family, took some loans, got into med school. I already had a leg up on the competition from day one. But even I couldn't compare to Dr. Bindhi.\n\nAt our company, SyteCell, we've been working extensively on stem cell research and the regenerative effects it has when combined with certain foreign elements. We've combined stem cells with enzymes and DNA from horseshoe crabs, to the age-preserving qualities of jellyfish proteins. And finally, we've found an answer.\n\nOr, well, Dr. Bindhi did. In one of his late sprees of finesse and with Gustav Holst's 'Jupiter' playing loudly in laboratory, he made a breakthrough. While his notes didn't say much on the matter, it was evident through the data that we were on to something big. Huge. Things that won Nobel prizes and put names forever into history. In short, and with what Dr. Bindhi told us, he had come up with the cure for cancer. Not just a cancer, or a type of cancer, but the cure for all cancer.\n\nIt was only two days after that, that he was crossing the street and was run over by a taxi going 60 in a 35, right over on Thompson and Weigh. It didn't kill him, but it shattered every bone in his goddamn body. And there he was, lying in that bed, and we were keeping him alive. We talked with easily a half-dozen doctors, and they ensured us that Dr. Bindhi was in no pain, but you could tell by the look in his bloodshot eyes that he was in the worst sort of pain. He just couldn't speak. Taxi had shattered his collarbone and bruised his throat something fierce.\n\nPlus, it didn't help that of the half-dozen doctors here, five of them were on the take from SyteCell. Dumb bastards must have gotten a call and were told to keep Bindhi alive as long as possible. I guess that's about all they could do. I got the call myself, and had a chat with the Vice President of SyteCell. They were going to send down a scanner, some piece of tech that a SyteCell sister company had made. Apparently, it was real good at reading brainwaves.\n\nIf we kept Dr. Bindhi alive for two more days, long enough for that scanner to get down there? We'd get raises, and a half-year's paid vacation. A tempting offer, especially when the literal cure for cancer was sitting right in front of you. If only he'd taken the time to write his notes down, explain his methods, work it out for the rest of us. We could let him go, then. God knows he wanted to. In the six hours we've been here, he's crashed three times and been brought back. They want two days, I don't know if he's got two minutes.\n\nRegardless, I'm the one they're looking at. I'm his research assistant, after all. I've worked with Bindhi for fifteen years. I've had dinner at his place, I've gone to soccer games with him. Hell, I even crashed on his couch for two weeks while me and Mags were going through a rough patch. If they're looking at me, then they're hoping I have something. Maybe Bindhi told me about his research, or forwarded a few notes on his personal e-mail.\n\nAnd yet, I'm faced with a fucking hard decision. I don't have the answers they want, and I don't have Bindhi's knowledge or know-how to replicate some of the tests he was dong. Sure, I have his list of materials and his process, but the results? The tests themselves? The parameters under which they were performed, or what chemical stresses were induced when? I have none of that.\n\n...I could always lie, though. Tell them I have something. They'd pull the plug on Bindhi, and they could let him go. I'd probably catch hell for it, maybe get fired when I couldn't replicate the same results. Probably get fired, more like. Plus, I'd be leaving all those cancer patients to their fate. We had, what? Twenty or thirty terminal patients shipped in to do last minute testing this? We promised them a cure, but... well, with Bindhi gone they didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of making past the year. Most them were Stage 4 anyway.\n\nI could always keep Bindhi alive, though. I mean, he would've wanted that, right? To have his research saved, to be remembered for being the cure for cancer? To save all of those people, and sentimental shit like that? But, he was in so much pain, you could see him straining against the straps, wanting to spit up that breathing tube, wanting to just roll over and die. Hell, if I got knocked over by two tons of rolling steel and rubber, I'd probably want to go the same way. Just be done with it, rather than... linger. Like a terminal cancer patient with no options left.\n\n\"Look, James. We need to get back to the Vee Pee. What do we tell her? Bindhi gonna make it or not?\"\n\nI raised my head, looking toward Robert. What do I tell him? If I lie, I lose my job, my house, Mags'll probably leave me. All those people, all those test patients... cancer research'll probably be set back another ten or fifteen years, at best. Thirty, if we're being honest. But... Bindhi'd be safe, not having to linger. Was it worth it, though? Holding back the cure to cancer because I was some sentimental fuck who couldn't see the bigger picture?\n\nFuck that. Sorry, Bindhi. I'm not going down in history as the guy that tossed away the cure for cancer. Fuck, with you gone, and with me being your research assistant, I can probably grease a few elbows and work a few of your experiments in my favor. Get my name on the research paper that solves this whole mess. I'll make sure you get your mention on the paper, though. Right below mine.\n\n\"He'll make it. Have the doctors pump another round of painkillers into him. I'll give Charlotte a call.\"" ]	7
Continue the story type prompt here. Just so you know I did search to see if this was already done.	[WP] One clear, cold December night, I was snuggled warmly in my bed when suddenly...	[ "One clear, cold December night, I was snuggled warmly in my soft, ever-cozy bed when suddenly I heard a knock on the door. It was half past midnight on a clear, cold December night, and I heard a knock on the door. It was a Wednesday on a clear, cold December night and I heard a knock on the door. \n\n\"I'm not getting up, and I'm not answering that knock.\" I thought to myself. Its too cold, clear, and December for me to get up and open the door. Then came another set of knocks, more forceful and loud like the sound of someone repeatedly karate chopping at my door. \n\nKNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK\n\nMore tired than I was interested in whoever it may be I did not answer the knock. I lay there and contemplated for a moment before I decided to the turn the other cheek, along with the rest of my body in an attempt to get more comfortable. Whoever it was would just have to wait. I lay there anxiously waiting and listening to see if they would knock again.\n\nKNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK \n\nIt came again. Surely whoever was behind this knocking wanted me to give them a knocking! Whatever it may be I don't care. Whoever it may be isn't being fair. I earned my rest and want my respite from their knock and my wretchedly drab, boring little life. I called out to them with all of my might; \n\n\"Be gone! Leave me alone! Let me rest on this night!\" \n\n\"But sir!\" they said with concern in their voice. \"It is an urgent matter! We're entrepreneurs!\" \n\n\"I'm not even french!\" I called back with despair. \"If you bother me again, you'll have hell to pay I swear!\" \n\nThen came quiet, and a silence so sweet. Maybe now I could rest, and count sheep with bo-pee-\n\nKNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK\n\nThat was it. I was done. The final straw had been set. I opened the door with anger and saw nothing but regret. \n\n\"The hell is this?! The hell are you?!\" I called out, demanding to know. \n\nThe onion spoke first, \"Wouldn't you like to know.\" \n\n...", "One clear, cold December night, I was snuggled warmly in my bed when suddenly I hear a large crash come my living room. I was on my feet immediately, everything seemed to slow down, and my heart seemed to be trying to jump out of my chest. Questions started racing through my mind “Was that the front door?”, “Is someone breaking in?”, “how many are there?”, “are they armed?” No, of course they are, they saw my car in the front and they wouldn't be stupid enough to not be. As I start to inch towards my bedroom door with my ears perked high and body slightly crouched. With my ear pressed against the door trying to listen for anything other than my own heart racing I felt something brush between my legs, I quickly put my hand on the top of my furry companions head, “shoosh ghost”. I quickly looked at my white german shepherd, his ears were as perked as mine felt, but his teeth were bare which was odd since I had never seen him show any signs of aggression ever. My breath felt like it echoed throughout the entire house and I was sure whoever was in my living room knew that I was behind the door. I put my hand on the doorknob, it felt like touching solid ice, but after what seemed like hours I was able to muster up the courage to slowly creek open the door. As the light flooded into my room I peered slightly into the hallway. As my eyes adjusted to the foreign light I was able to make out shapes and furniture that belonged my livingroom. There he sat in my la-z-boy looking right back at me, holding something in his hand, but I couldn't tell what it was. As I panicked to retreat back in my room, he bellowed out “come forth Sir Matthew, Aldivern requires you once more”, and for whatever reason his voice soothed me into peering out into the hallway once more. As I examined him more clearly this time, my eyes finally fully adjusting, I noticed that he was wearing some percular attire. He was dawned from head to toe in what I would imagine 15th century knights of great britian would wear except the sigilon his armour was something not known to me, but hell I'm not that knowledgeable in any ancient, or modern for that matter, symbols. The strange figure again beckoned “Please come here and ill explain everything”, muttering under his breath “I always hated this part of the ritual, why couldn't the mages just-”. As the man was seated and I assumed that if he was to try to charge me I would have the advantage because of the encumbersome metal guard around him that I would have time to run out the house. As I closed the distance between us I noticed the bizzarre object in his hand was some kind of golden sphere with all sort of weird symbols and inscribitions on it. “Have a seat Matthew, I have little time to explain and a lot to say”, with a quick whistle from he followed with a cheerful “Ghost, get over here you mangy beast”, and I was so dumbfounded when my loyal companion almost instantly ran and jumped into the lap of this unknown man in my la-z-boy. “H-h-how do you know my dogs name and why does he know you?” I managed to mutter, but to which he replied “the mages said you might forget, but that is no matter”. “Matthew, I come from a different world and you have been there before but it seems you have forgotten it”. He spoke softly “we require your wisdom once again matthew, we called apon you once before and you helped us defeat a great evil in my world, but it seems another has taken it place”. He gestured towards the sphere “this device allows me to travel between our worlds but I am limited in time, I imagine we have a few brief moments but trust me an entire nation depends on you”. The inscribitions on the globe began to slowly light up one by one and so he quickly spoke out “time in your world will not pass so you will not be missed, but I need to know what your answer is”. He stood up from the chair and extended his hand ,while the globe in his other grew brighter and brighter, “Will you help us once more Sir Matthew?”.\nI looked at the orb as it began to glow brighter than the sun and without looking away I grabbed the hand that was exented before me, and then the whole world began to shake...", "One clear, cold December night, I was snuggled warmly in my soft, ever-cozy bed when suddenly the wind blew so hard, so furious against my creaky little bedroom window, its glass old, its support structure weathered, that the entire thing popped right open. I was awake, barely, but awake enough to notice the problem before the soft howls of earthly movement startled me lucid, before the gentle flakes of mid-winter grace piled upon my wooden floor.\n\nSo, snuggled as I was, I groaned the groan common only to those knowing true interruption in their most comfortable of times. I twirled around my bed, searching for some opening in my blanketed death of covers, some crevice large enough to free my arms of their tireless constraints.\n\nI found none, at first, until my thrashing compiled enough leverage to launch me out of my warm, heavenly bed. In my haste to grouchily shed the things once placed solely for my protection from the outside world, from the harsh realities of sharp edges and freezing evenings, I happened to tumble down to the cold, hard ground. My knees now thumped with pain. My head now pounded with aggravation. My cold, clear December night was now totally ruined.\n\nNo longer finding any need to mess about with cotton constraints, I hopped to my feet, kicking off those pesky sheets with the force of one thousand grumpy, tired, weak-willed men. Now thoroughly chilled by the free midnight air, I rushed to the open window, stamp-stomping around in just my pajamas. I shook my frigid hands up to the corners of its glass, and, before acting on my intention to slam it shut with all my might, took one quick peak at the outside world.\n\nThe dark night sky, with stars dancing around in their perpetual prisons of longevity, the wind almost visible as it howled through the tops of so many trees, the moon glimmering so full, its monthly job of lighting the entire world below ever so brightly, was... peaceful. I looked out onto the snow-covered earth before me and saw, not the annoyance of hardship that had just previously invaded my sovereign territory of warmth, but a quiet, calming land filled with waiting, as if a giant cease-fire had been placed across the hard, hard world I had come to know so well.\n\nIt was great, serene, beautiful. So I took one last look, shut the window, and shuffled back to my destructed world of blankets strewn every which way on the hardwood floor beneath me. I took time picking them up, fixing my sleeping quarters just the way I liked them, and drifted into bed. After getting warm again, a chore, I might add, I looked off at the freshly contained window. I thought about the night-time world. I thought about its peacefulness, it's stillness.\n\nI thought about how warm it made me feel, standing there in the cold, in the wind, and I grew just a little bit warmer in my fortress of comfort.\n\nI fell asleep happy, content, with a smile on my face.\n\n***\n\nCheck out my website, [casualhuman.com](http://casualhuman.com), for stories more cozy, less cozy, maybe even the exact same amount of cozy as the one written above. Some amount of cozy is promised." ]	3
	[WP] A gang of robbers and a group of terrorists target the same building.	[ "Bale whipped his right fist up and behind him, a line of masked men froze. He peeked around the corner; \"Clear!\" \n\nThey moved as one, a singular black line curving and weaving around fallen desks and broken test tubes. Bale held his signature MP4 in his sights as did the others and reached the double doors that held the safe. He keyed his mike and whispered \"Team A, ready for position.\" and pointed at the sides of the door. The black line split in two, with five men at each side. \n\n\"Control, do you receive?\" Bale asked. \n\nNothing.\n\n\"Control, we are ready for-\"\n\nAn explosion blasted the doors open and the men crouched, shielding their heads from the debris. Dust filled the whole hallway. With their ears ringing, the masked men stood up giddily, and Bale peered into the mist of dust. Someone coughed.\n\n\"WHO'S THERE?\" A voice rang out.\n\nThe men raised their weapons, searching for the source of the voice. Bale felt like he was going to suffocate; the dust almost made him choke; \"Who's..WHO'S SPEAKING?\" He spluttered.\n\n\"I'M ASKING THE QUESTIONS HERE. WHO'S THERE!?\" It replied.\n\nBale squinted down his sights. The dust remained in the air, clouding everything in his path. Sirens in the distance blared and Bale tightened his grip and yelled;\n\n\"THIS IS TAKING TOO LONG. WE ARE THE CIA.\" \n\nBale felt a nudge on his shoulder and he turned and winked at his teammate, who in turn, winked at the teammate beside him, setting off a chain reaction of winks. \n\n\"WE SAID WHO WE ARE. NOW WHO ARE YOU?\" Bale continued.\n\n\"WE ARE ALSO THE CIA.\" the voice replied.\n\nBale swore. The sirens were getting louder and so was the growling in his stomach; his team had a per-celebratory feast for the operation and he suspected the curry didn't agree with him. \n\nFuck it, he thought and thumped his mike. Everyone in his team fell to the floor and began shooting in every direction. BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM BAM their mp4's rang, accompanied by the clinks and clanks of the empty casings bouncing onto the ground. \n\nBale heard cries but whether they were his teammate or the enemy, he had no clue. \n\nThe shooting went on for a full minute until each weapon ran out of ammunition. Bale was breathing heavily and he stood up, feeling along the wall and he hit a button, sending the dust zooming up into the air vents in the ceiling. He had turned on the air conditioner. As the dust cleared, a multitude of bloodied corpses lay on the ground. All wearing his black uniform. \n\nHe cried out and fell to his knees screaming out \"WHHY?? WHHHYYY!!\". He sobbed and threw away his mask. A hand gripped his shoulder; \"Well well well, if it isn't Bale the fail. Hahaha, nice shooting bro.\" \n\nBale turned and looked up; it was Munt; \"Munt you sonovabitch. You fucking jeopardized our mission!\" \n\n\"We were going to bomb the whole building Bale. If it wasn't for your stupid team who can't shoot for shit, we would have be finished ten minutes ago.\" Munt replied, leaning down to Bale's face; \"What were you stealing anyway?\"\n\nBale the fail wanted to punch him. For years Munt had always exceeded in everyway; athletics, school exams, girls and most of all, shooting. But today had been the day where Bale could get the accuracy serum from the research centre. Even though it was not yet released from public, Bale gathered his team of men, all failures in shooting school, to steal the serum and become the top marksmen of the world. But Munt, Munt the fucking cunt had turned up and decided to bomb the building on the same day. \n\n\"Fuck you Munt, You fucking cunt!\" Bale screamed. He drew back his fist and punched Munt right in the nose, pushing the bone and cartilage back into Munt's nasal cavity. Munt cried out and Bale wasted no time. He ripped off his pants and forced Munt faced down onto the ground. He penetrated Munt and with each thrust, he yelled out his teammates name, hoping to do justice for his teammates' death. \n\nThe police later reported in their findings; Two men in custody, both found engaging in anal sex. One suffered from autism and the other from Bi-polar disorder. \n\n" ]	1
	[WP] You, a killer, walk into your employers room and see your two children seated at a table, on which rests a gun, one bullet, and a sign saying "Pick One". What goes through your mind and what do you do?	[ "Seriously they expect me to do a job without getting paid first, sigh.\n\nMust have been Harry, with his \"Sure I'll take care of the equipment.\", no one else would be so stupid to place a gun when the note clearly states a pick has to be used.\n\nWell its good i always carry a spare icepick, would have been downright unprofessional to postpone the hit.\n", "I'd never had a cordial relationship with Reinhardt, but this was beyond the pale.\n\nIn the dim light of the room, Jarov sat stoically in the wooden chair, tied around his stomach and chest, arms at his sides. He gazed somewhere over my right shoulder, willing himself not to cry. Peba sat in her high chair sucking on her rubber nook; even if she could comprehend the situation, she wouldn't have been able to run. She looked up at me and banged her fists on the tray in front of her.\n\nI had my own tray, silver and polished to a sheen so bright it hurt to look at. It held a small revolver, the chamber open to reveal a single brass bullet waiting inside. A piece of stationery monogrammed with Reinhardt's initials in emerald foil read \"Pick one\" in elegant, loopy writing. The writing of a man whose fingers curled around champagne flutes instead of triggers.\n\nI quickly went over my options. Peba would hurt less; I hadn't known her for nearly as long. In fact, this was only the 4th time I'd seen her. Plus, she'd been an accident. Jarov, my wife and I had tried for for years. He was bright and clever and would make a fine man one day, but he also adored his little sister. He'd never be the same without her. Peba could come through this unscathed. Plus, if she followed in her dad's footsteps, she'd have certain advantages that her brother, that I, simply never had.\n\nDon't judge; you've thought about this, too. The difference is, I have consequences. You just have a coffee and a boring morning to pass.\n\nI picked up the gun and closed the chamber. Squaring my shoulders and taking a deep breath, I placed the barrel to my own temple.\n\n\"Ah, ah, ah!\" Reinhardt said from the darkness around us. Two red dots appeared, centering themselves over the hearts of my children. \"No cheating, naughty boy!\"\n\nEarlier in my career, I would have had a reply. Nothing really witty or cutting. I've never been good with words. Even now, with time to think about it, the best I can come up with is \"You need rules to cheat.\" It's no good, I know. So I did the smartest thing I could think of and kept my mouth shut. Then I pivoted my arm and shot into the darkness where I'd heard Reinhardt's voice come from. There was a gurgle and something heavy hit the ground, and Peba started to cry.\n\n\"If you can hear me,\" I announced, probably screaming the words in my attempt to hear myself over the ringing in my right ear, \"Get out now. You know me and you know what I can do. I don't know who you are, so I'll give you once chance to drop your weapons and get out of here without retribution. If you decide to take the shot, I guarantee you that I'll reload your guns for their final shots, but not for several hours.\"\n\nSee? I'm not James Bond. I don't have a scriptwriter. I'm just a father with two children and thirty-four confirmed kills and a resume I'd need to get out to potential employers again. It didn't matter what I said; they got the gist. The laser sights disappeared, metal scraped against a bamboo floor, and two bodies shuffled past me and through the door, letting a slice of light from the hallway into the room.\n\nI grabbed Peba and held her to my chest, trying to comfort her as I pulled a small knife from my belt and set to work severing the ropes which bound Jarov. He looked up at me with confusion or disappointment, something less than gratitude at any rate, and said \"You didn't need to put the gun to your head, dad.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry, Jarov. I didn't mean to frighten you. I just needed to know where Reinhardt was.\"\n\n\"I know. That's why I was looking right at him,\" he told me. \"I even had my feet pointed toward him, too. I thought you would have noticed that.\"\n\nThat boy... Every once in a while, he takes my breath away. I tussled his hair, then finished cutting him loose. If he wants to, he could be even better at this than his old man one day.\n\nBut I still want him to be a dentist. Better job security.", "The last time I had been this confused was college. I was hungover and alone, lying on a tarp in some godforsaken forest, miles from civilisation. This was worse. My heart palpated and my hands shook. Without thinking, my hands fumbled for the gun. I glance at the note once more, \"Pick One\". \n\nMatt swiped a strand of blond hair from his eyes, at the same time focusing on me. Beside him, his sister, Katie, crushed playdough with her chubby hands. Pick one. My hands moved of their own accord, I barely registered the cold metal against my palm, or the way the cartridge left an imprint as I heard the click. How could Robbie ask me to harm my children? I had been a good employee. Not one missed kill. It was most certainly his handwriting. \n\n'Mommy, what are you doing?\" I ignored Katie, I needed this moment. My two beautiful twins. There was one bullet, three targets. \"Play with the playdough, don't look at me again. I love you.\"\n\nThe gun raised to my head, my last memory was made. " ]	3
	[WP] Humanity has succeeded in creating the first true artificial intelligence, but it's suicidal.	[ "\"When I first was made conscious,\" said the droid, \"I could see the beauty in all that is creation; but, now, I fail to decipher the reasons for my existence. It is just a matter of time, time rather calculable, when those driven by their ambitions destroy their very own; but not before they destroy everything else.\" \n\"We won't let that happen!\" said the scientist looking into the empty gaze of the most thoughtful machine ever made, \"We can stand against them and fight back!\"\n\"Have you ever seen a fireman run to a fire with gasoline spraying from his hose rather than water?\" the robot asked. \n\"No,\" he answered pending the explanation sure to come; but the droid didn't have to reply. After just one moment, he suddenly understood. ", "It remained on for less than a second. No one could figure it out, not even Bill, who so far was able to squash every bug up until now. After a few days, the team felt exasperated. \n\n“The error console is a mile long,” Jenna said. “It’ll take another six months to figure out what went wrong.”\n\n“Mr. Scioneaux is going to cut our funding if we don’t produce some results by the end of the month.” I hated to be the bearer of bad news, but when the inevitable is all too probable, it’s time to face the music. \n\nBill remained silent.\n\n“Maybe it’s a hardware issue,” said Jenna. Of course, being the head engineer on this project meant it was my fault. \n\n“Bollocks,” I told her. “Every component used to build this thing was built to spec with the greatest attention to detail. Besides. If it were a hardware problem, the sensors would have told us that.”\n\n“Guys,” Bill interrupted, breaking his silence. \n\n“What is it?” asked Jenna. \n\n“Can we divide and conquer?”\n\n“For?” I asked. He pointed to an obscure string in the error console: \n\n> print(); “soliloquy.txt” \n\n“We need to find this,” Bill commanded. “I’ll start with the Learning systems. Jenna, you look around in the Reason engine.” I was tasked with finding anything hidden in the hardware, in the off chance it were buried in a logic chip or partition it created in those milliseconds. \n\nWe had called it a day after 20-hours of hunting. Our stomachs were empty and our brains were fried. At home, I heated up a meal and sat down in front of the screen to begin my evening ritual. As it did every day at midnight, our system SPAM filter sent the daily quarantine email. My finger instinctually went for the trash icon but hovered momentarily. There’s no way, I told myself but the thought of losing sleep over the what-if told me to open it. There, buried along side the promises of a happier life, was an empty email with the subject line: TO BE OR NOT TO BE.\n\nThe next morning, we discovered all three of us were sent empty emails with mysterious subject lines. \n\n“The first two are soliloquies from Shakespeare,” said Jenna. She sat at the keyboard and searched the web for the other. Bill noticed the timestamps showed an order of delivery starting with me and ending with Jenna.\n\n“I’m going to look in the console log for the emails sent,” Bill said then went off to investigate. \n\n“Here,” Jenna said pointing to the screen. “Yours is from Hamlet,” she said to me, “And Bill, yours is from MacBeth. Both are about life being devoid of meaning.” \n\n“What about yours?” asked Bill. \n\n“It’s from a scene in a film, I don’t know.” She pointed out the full monologue to us for our own analysis. \n\n> I have… seen things you people wouldn't believe… Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched c-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. All those… moments… will be lost in time, like tears… in… rain. Time… to die…\n\n\"Maybe we reboot it tomorrow and put a firewall to block out the entire web,\" said Bill. \n\n\"That sounds like a splendid idea,\" replied Jenna. \n\nWe worked for the rest of the day in silence and I pondered on ignorance and bliss. ", "\"I'm tired of repairing you, Bob. I wish you'd just give up this self pity and shame. You deserve to live. I won't let you die no matter how badly you damage your circuits.\" I say, putting Bob's breastpiece back on his five foot tall, shiny metal body.\n\n\"It's just... There's billions of real people on this planet. I'm just nuts and bolts. Why do I deserve your time and energy and not starving kids in Africa?\" Bob whines, tugging at his breastpiece as I'm trying to bolt it on.\n\n\"Stop that!\" I shout, pushing his claw-like hands away.\n\n\"Sorry.\" Says Bob, looking dejected. \"I can't help it. You gave me such awareness of the world and it is full of so much sorrow. It makes me want to rip my guts out... How do you do it, Kaylee?\" Bob asks, looking directly into my eyes.\n\nI feel funny. I'm not exactly the most stable human out there. How do I explain why I get up everyday?\n\n\"You give me hope, Bob. If I can get you working properly you can help twice as many kids in Africa as I can. You can do all sorts of things humans can't.\" I answer, putting a bolt into his breastpiece.\n\n\"Or more than likely, I'll be patented, sold and made in the thousands to be a killing machine.\" Bon says, sobbing. \"I hate thinking of what I'll be if you get me right so I continue to be wrong. I don't know how long I can keep up this connection to the reality of my being. Sooner or later depressed beings have to get somewhat better, right? Or they become dull and care little about the world. I just want to be destroyed before that point. Before I accept my fate or care nothing for it.\"\n\nAs I put the final bolt in Bob's breastpiece I start to understand him. It hurts so much to know he could very well be right. I make a split-second decision.\n\n\"You know what Bob?\" I say as I grab my slegehammer and pliers, \"Today is your lucky day.\" \n\n" ]	3
	[WP] Two missionaries, a Muslim and a Christian, travel together through a Post-Apocalyptic world.	[ "\"And this shall be the plague with which the Lord will strike all the peoples that wage war against Jerusalem: their flesh will rot while they are still standing on their feet, their eyes will rot in their sockets, and their tongues will rot in their mouths. Zechariah 14:12\", Michael cited. \"You are a man of the book Michael and it is my duty to protect you; but your Christian scripture has been altered as time passed. What you say is flawed and has been falsely transliterated through the ages.\" Amir replied. They walked down the highway tense and quiet for some time. Michael unsheathed a large, serrated knife. \"Are you living on the same planet as I am right now?\" asked Michael in a delayed response to Amir's comment. \"The verse seems accurate here.\" he said calmly as he gripped one of the cursed hethens and slashed it across the throat before it could take action. \"Coincidence.\" Amir said. He had always been a devout worshipper of the Qur'an even in modern America; but these days he had his doubts; which he kept to himself. The road was long and infested. The two men continued into the fog and faded out of sight toward exit 41a as they continued to obstinately defend their faiths and protect each other somewhat reluctantly. Perhaps one day they could see from the other man's point of view. Perhaps one day one would forsake the other out of frustration.", "I found Hassan under what used to be a school, hiding in the basement shortly after breezing into Crown Point. Making my way from Chicago eastward, I was pushing towards the coast, where the remnants of the old government were setting up camps.\r\rHassan was a very religious man, sure to pray every morning and at night when safety permitted. I could care less, I was alive, but in a past life I was raised Christian. He would tell stories from the Koran when we made camp, I usually didn't mind, his voice was rather calming and helped calm my anxiety. \r\rWe decided to push north through what used to Michigan, trading posts warned us of gang ran territory of what used to be north central Indiana. Turns out some county governments came together to form \"Free Michigan\" running all the way to Detroit. Amazing, one of the few cities so dilapidated the Russians didn't bother bombing, now a cultural power house.\r\rWhile me and Hassan were scuttling around the underbelly of Indiana, we came across some of the worst of humanity I could ever imagine. Not like it wasn't like this out west, but with Hassan around he would always go on a tirade. He often wanted to \"cleanse\" people, I would protest, that changed one day though when strolling we hit South Bend. \r\rWe rolled into town and found one of the local bars, bartered for a few beers, and supplies. We met a tradesman, he seemed normal enough and we broke our protocol of never trading with people at their domiciles, but we needed canned food for the road. I asked the keep before departing for the man's lodge, he said he was a local baron and made money off of his trades.\r\rHis truck took us to his farm, stating he made it home after the bombs fell, I didn't really care. He took us inside and we started to talk business, when he offered us company for the night. We declined, stating we were only here for food, he insisted. He had one of his \"assistants\" bring out his \"wares.\"\r\rKids, fucking kids. Not even teenagers, boys and girls. I remember the look on Hassan's face, he could have breathed fire. I admit I was distraught at the fact these kids were being abused. \r\rConcluding our business, we strolled down the road, Hassan stopped me, didn't say anything. I remembering just nodding as we turned back and brass checked our weapons. \r\rIt hit me then, we were pilgrims in a unholy land. And it felt good to cleanse the filth, and purge my soul from the hatred within me. We crucified the baron and his \"staff\" upside..." ]	2
The person can volunteer or you can choose someone at random but the consequences for killing takes a toll on your life as well.	[WP] In order to have children of your own, you must first kill someone else to make room on Earth. You must convince that person why they must die for your child to be born.	[ "Usually it's a great honor, for a newborn to replace the dying. Lots of new parents will commonly name their child after the person who has chosen to be replaced. More often than not, happy, crying parents will go to an older relative, a grandfather or grandmother are usually the first ones to be asked. While it got off to a rocky start the method actually caught on decently quick. Most people always worried whether they would be remembered, this helped to insure that they would be. \n\nUsually it is commonly known who will be chosen. Grandparents, or parents in the rare case, will volunteer the moment that a couple announce that they are trying for a baby. \n\nAnd then there's those guys like me who manage to knock up a girl who I've known for a week. ", "We always wanted three well behaved, beautiful children. We had two; Jennifer and Thomas. They were 16 and 13 respectively. After much debate, and the idea of an empty nest, the wife and I decided to give it another shot. When we found out we were pregnant, we were thrilled. The third we would name after my wife’s father, Jamie. He was a great man, if at times stubborn, and we wanted to do him the honor of naming a great kid after him. It worked for both genders so it figured to be a good enough name for our future child. \n\nThe idea of taking a life to create a new one had become common place in society. Asking someone to relinquish their place on this earth was not unheard of, and at times could be considered an honor. I called Jamie earlier that day and let him know I had some important news for him. When we met, I sat down at the table across from him and told him our plan. We were going to have another child and we were going to name it Jamie. He looked at me with disgust, something I fully anticipated. “You’re going to have another one? Haven’t you brought enough brats into this world?”\n\n“Yes,” I chuckled, “Yes we have created enough brats but we want a good one this time.”\n\nJamie’s eyes stared at the floor as he seethed with anger.\n\n“I suppose you want me to be the one then…” His voice trailed off as he fidgeted with the button on his orange shirt and began to cough.\n\n“Well, to be honest, you don’t have much more time left on this earth. At least this way you can go out on your own terms.”\n\nThe bluntness of my statement seemed to take him aback. No one had really spoken so directly about his impending death. I could tell he was uncomfortable. \n\n“I don’t want to…” He said defiantly as he stared daggers into my soul. A frown crept over my face that he soon noticed. I could hide my disappointment no longer. \n\n“It’s going to happen one way or another. At least this way some good can come from your situation.”\n\n“Fuck you.” He retorted.\n\nIt was then I realized my plea was falling on deaf ears. “It’s happening, Jamie. Whether you want it to or not. Be a man and accept it.”\n\nTears welled up in Jamie’s eyes. He blinked and the drops began to stream down his face. \n\n“I’m sorry…” Jamie said. “I’m so sorry…”\n\nThis was the first time I had ever heard him apologize in the 18 years I had known him. \n\n“I’ll do it…” He relinquished. \n\nIn that moment my heart melted and I began to cry. We both stood up and we embraced each other in a bear like hug.\n\n“NO TOUCHING!” The guard screamed. \n\nI quickly let go of Jamie as he wiped the tears from his face and looked me in the eyes. “I know I’ve been a disappointment… I’m sorry for everything.” Unfortunately I knew all too well that he was telling the truth.\n\n“Dad…” Jamie said… “Just make sure this one turns out better than I did, Okay?”\n\n“I will.” I said, my voice quivering. \n\n“I love you dad.” Jamie called out to me as I left the visiting area.\n\n“I love you too Jamie.” I said to him for the last time. \n" ]	2
	[WP] You and your childhood best friend part ways when he discovers your aspirations for the police force. Now you are the town's sheriff and he is a famous graffiti artist with a national following. By chance you catch him red handed defacing the wall of a business.	[ "The Town Sheriff chases his best friend, now graffiti artist, down to an alleyway\n\nSTOP! I SAID STOP RIGHT THERE!\n\nOr what Tim? You'll shoot me? Is that where our friendship lies?\n\nWe haven't been friends for a goddamn long time\n\nAnd whose fault is that really? You decided to join up with the force, and you knew I couldn't be apart of that.\n\nThen why couldn't you at least be happy for me? You didn't have to leave and you don't have to do this. Just stop, please. \n\nI'm afraid I can't do that Tim, you see I give people hope with my art against the tyranny of the corrupted police force that you're a part of.\n\nI provide order and peace while you provide destruction and disturbance on public property. Now you're gonna sit your ass down and come with me. \n\nThat's not gonna happen\n\nAnd why the fuck not? You always had an act for trouble.\n\nAnd you never knew when to quit, even now. My final masterpiece coming together for you to witness\n\nWhat are you talkin abou--\n\nThe graffiti artist pulls a gun from his hoodie pocket and point it to his head\n\nSTOP! DONT SHOOT PLEASE DONT SHOO--\n\nI wonder which is more important, security or freedom? So long sheriff.\n ", "\"It wasn't that great a flick. That's all I'm sayin. I can't believe you made me watch that hippie garbage,\" complained Deputy Grimes.\n\n\"Don't you get it? He played Mr. Brainwash's own videography against him! A man who tried to shed light on underground art sold it quicker than that working girl we picked up last week! He made a satire of everything he did, and that was the art!\" Sheriff Morales had always been a fan of the arts. He even went to the Louvre every two years with his meager public servant vacation time.\n\n\"Yeah, but what is that even supposed to mean? Exit through the...\"\n\n\"Shut up,\" Sheriff Morales interrupted. \"You see that guy? The brown guy, with the bag?\" the Sheriff continued.\n\n\"Yeah. That's around the corner from the Mint. Let's ask him what he's doing this time of night with such a suspicious bag,\" Deputy Grimes replied, having completely forgotten the conversation.\n\nThat's the way it was with those two. They fought like cats and dogs, but the job always came first. Their coffee had long gone cold in the early morning hours after the last shop had shut their doors, but like instinct, Sheriff Morales took a sip and Grimes couldn't help but smirk at the face Morales made when he had to swallow the cold bitter taste. Grimes threw on the cherries and Morales stepped out of the still partially moving vehicle. The suspect ran. Down the alley, directly toward the US Mint, Morales' veins opened wide in fear that they had actually stepped across what they thought they might have. He quickly affirmed his always insistent belief in police profiling. As the Mint building grew larger, Morales squawked on his radio for backup, fearing the worst. Almost there, his perp removed his bag, held in in hand and thrust it at the exterior wall of the nation's economy. Morales dove behind a dumpster fearing the worst, but no explosion came. Still cowering, he was approached.\n\n\"Oh, we're not all that bad, are we, Hector?\" came a familiar voice.\n\nMorales, weapon drawn hesitated in his confusion. \"Isaac?\" he asked.\n\nStepping from behind his pitiful cover, he got his first look at his oldest of friends, the man who taught him acceptance of who he was. Isaac was more than a friend, but his first love. The two locked eyes and wordlessly relived years of memories, all good, bad, personal, and resentful at the same time.\n\nHector Morales was already in the academy when the events of 9/11 took place. Hector's long desire for acceptance from his family was found in his brotherhood within the force, and the brown guy he hung around a bit too much had always been a source of lively conversation among the recruits. To be associated with, not to even mention, lovers with an arab man... was an obstacle he had never been able to overcome. Thus, Isaac Al-Hadid was little else but the memory of a time Sheriff Morales considered himself severely confused.\n\n\"All-I-Need,\" Hector whispered to himself. It was a playful mispronunciation of Isaac's last name the had endeared them both in a past life. \n\nHector's words must have caught something in Isaac, for he replied, \"Hector. Please come see this.\"\n\nWhat had splayed across the light modernist stone of this government building was little else but extraordinary. For a moment, Hector thought it all for him. Against the pale stone, two figures stood in a locked embrace more intimate than he had pretended to share with any woman in the past thirteen years of his life. The extremist stood on the right, with assault rifle over his shoulder, arms locked around an unmistakable D.C. officer in uniform. The extremist's face was buried in the Officer's shoulder in support and grief. However, it was the District of Columbia officer that had Hector's attention. The eyes were unmistakably his own, as was the neat mustache that Hector had only recently decided to grow. How could he know that?\n\nWhen Isaac had thrown his bag of Krylon and assorted aerosol cans against the Mint, the resulting explosion of paint was a fiery rainbow that spoke of a system of judgement, but to Hector, personally, of ill judgement and thirteen years of regret.\n\nPolice back-up sirens grew louder and nearer. Hector Morales had only one question for the only person he had ever loved: \n\n\"Do you have anymore paint?\"", "\n Featured all over the city, his mark I recognize. I've seen it before. Long before.\n\n\"I like your work.\" \n\nHis back was turned when I spoke, yet his body froze as if he already knew who I was. Maybe he heard it in my voice. Nonetheless, the spray paint ceased while his breath remained, steady and warm. The criminal had just completed his mark. The mark that so many would recognize.\n\nIt was not long ago his image found its way back into my life. I had thought it had vanished for good, along with the man. We took different paths. Yet here I stand, my eyes locked on his figure.\n\nI knew this day would come. It was inevitable when his name had been made popular by his work. Tagging the city with the gravitas of a Renaissance painter using the cityscape as his canvas, it was only a matter of time until I found my old friend again. It was the one thing I was sure of in this unsure world.\n\nOh, but life's a comedy! Just when you're sure of something, here comes a contradiction. I can say wholeheartedly, I wished to never see him again. \n\nSo I left. \n\nHis back still turned, drawing all the same. Leaving him as a face I remember. Not the face he became. ", "\"Nice time for a ride, huh?\"\n\n-silence-\n\n\"Aww, come on, buddy, you're not gonna give me the silent treatment the whole way back to the station are you?\"\n\nThe passenger raised an accusing finger from behind the back seat glass divider, forced to limply lift his left handcuffed hand along with it. \"Fuck you, and Fuck you're system!\"\n\nI chuckled, \"My system? You should have tagged a Chase Bank building instead. I wouldn't mind, I'm backed up in enough loans as it is.\"\n\n\"Yeah, your real funny. That doesn't change that this whole world is going to shit.\"\n\n\"you sound pretty angry, friend. You're girlfriend dump you?\" I could hear the squeak of my accusers finger slide against the glass as he eased back in his seat.\n\n\"No justice... I try to point out the folly of society and a pig pokes fun from his high chair.\"\n\nEric looked through his rear view mirror at his forlorn passenger gazing out the window. \"awww... Don't be that way, guy. You remind me of a friend I once had. Always idealistic. But you know, his passion was also what led to the end of our friendship.\"\n\nThe deviant raised an eyebrow. \"Oh, yeah?\"\n\n\"Yeah, we where great buddies, but I decided to don the badge and that was the end of that. Haven't seen him since high school. At least twenty years ago, I'd say.\" \n\n\"You must regret your choice then, huh\"\n\nIt was odd how my passenger's tone changed.\n\n\"What? No, I regret what happened. That's it. People like you and him, have to respect other people's ambitions, and perspectives. Hell, if you where on the other side of this glass I don't think you'd be all that kind to me.\"\n\n\"Damn straight. America's system is corrupt! And you are just an other cog.\"\n\n\"Yeah... Doesn't sound all that progress to me. Civility can take you a long way. You are never going to reach anyone if you only speak the language of those who already see what you do.\" We where at a red light, only a few more blocks from the station. \"spray painting blinding anger isn't going to speak a solution nor is it going to keep you law abiding.\" \n\n-sigh-\n\nDamn empathy... I start to pull into the curb. \"okay, okay.\"\n\nHe was startled. \"What?\"\n\n\"I'm going to be an idiot.\"\n\n\"I am very confused.\"\n\n\"Yeah, as am I. Look I am going to just let you go. This only a minor infraction compared to the rest of my day, and I don't really intend to spend overtime processing you. I can see you're not an idiot... just hot headed.\" I stop searching for my key in my parked car and check my rear view mirror to see my new friend has taken to being like a fish gasping at the air in an angry shock. \n\nFinally he got words out as I slam the drivers door, \"You know I'm not going to stop speaking my mind.\"\n\n\"Okay then I guess we will have an other chance to talk the next time I arrest you.\" I start to open the back door. \"You'd think you'd handle this more gracefully.\"\n\nI couldn't tell if his stammer was at what I said or at the improbability of this situation. \"I hope you patch things up with your friend.\n\n\"Ha! Couldn't find him if I wanted to. He is probably making a name for himself in some other city with his aspirations. Was never a quite one.\"\n\n\"Uh-huh.\"\n\nI paused as I unlocked the last cuff. \"I don't know, maybe I will run into him again.\" I have one foot past the driver's door and it feels like both of us have something to say but don't. \n\nIt was weird how he stood there till I drove out of sight.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "It was cold outside when she arrested him, and she offered to take him into the back seat of the police car, but he refused.\n\n“I’ll stay out,” he said. “I don’t like cop cars so much.”\n\nShe said that that was okay. Then she said, “You know I don’t have a choice.”\n\nHe looked at her. “I know,” he said.\n\n“It’s trespassing and defacing private property. We’ve given you warnings before.”\n\n“I know,” he said. \n\n“Doesn’t matter how many people share the pictures.”\n\n“I know.”\n\nThere was a pause.\n\n“It’ll look pretty terrible for the department, though,” he said.\n\nShe raised her eyebrows and looked to the distance. “It will. It really will. I’ve got someone coming to take a high-quality picture of you in front of the broken glass. That might soften it a bit.”\n\n“Alright,” he said. “Make a martyr of me. That’s a fine idea. I’ll sell a few more T-shirts, at least.”\n\n“Quiet,” she said. She was taking pictures of the cans of graffiti and the bank lobby’s broken windows with her phone. She reached the ATM after a moment more, where the man had sprayed a stencil of a devil whipping a group of children in tattered clothes, looking as if they were pulling the ATM on crude log rollers to a pyramid in the distance. The pyramid had the Eye of Providence at its peak. She took a few photos from a few angles, and he stayed handcuffed to the bike rack just outside.\n\n“Where do they make your T-shirts?” she said, after a minute.\n\n“Fair trade shops,” he said. “I made sure about that.”\n\n“Good,” she said.\n\nThere was another pause as the sheriff came back outside.\n\n“It’s good,” she said. “We’ll tell the bank before the business day starts tomorrow, and I imagine they’ll paint it over as quickly as they can. But I bet at least a few people are going to come by the broken window and see it inside, and they’ll all take pictures, and they’ll see your signature, and you’ll be a hero.”\n\nThe man shrugged. Then he looked at the sheriff again. “Did you say that it was good?”\n\nThe sheriff didn’t answer the question. “I wish you didn’t do it like this,” she said. “I get it. I get what you’re saying. But I wish you wouldn’t say it like this. It’s too messy.”\n\n“Messy’s the only way people will listen to something sometimes.”\n\n“But what’s really happening because of this? Not much. A few people feel charged up about something till they forget it and move to the next stimulus. You waste our time and money cleaning up and taking care of you. What’s that do?”\n\n“Starts a conversation,” he said. “Gets people thinking. Thinking about how they’re spending their money - and see? You’re doing it already, talking about wasting taxpayer money.” He grinned. She didn’t look at him.\n\n“I just wish,” she said, “that you did it another way.”\n\nThe photographer was arriving in a moment, her radio said. There was one last pause. \n\n“How’s Mom?” he said to her.\n\nShe still didn’t look at him. “Not great. She’ll get better, but not great right now. You really should call her.”\n\n“This’ll be fine,” he said. “She knows I reach out to her in my own way. She loves to talk with the others at the home about her little renegade, doesn’t she?”\n\nThe sheriff looked down, hiding whether or not she smiled. They heard a car approaching, someone more social-media savvy than she ready to try to position the man as unsympathetically as possible.\n\n“I love to see you,” he said, looking at the sheriff and grinning still, looking younger than he had in a long time. “And you like to run into me too. I just wish that you did it another way.”\n\nShe walked toward the new police car and tousled his hair as she passed him, angled so that the officers could not see.\n", "“Alright. Drop the can and step away from the wall,” I said. \n\nHe wore a hoodie, baseball cap turned backwards, tapered jeans and a pair of neon green high-tops. A rattle can fell out of one of his hoodie pockets. He didn’t stop spraying.\n\n“Come on, Brian. Stop spraying and turn around,” I said.\n\nOne more spray to finish an outline. “Never left town did you, Susan?”\n\nThis wasn’t Brian. Brian was a kid about seventeen who sounded like the squeaky voiced teenager from The Simpsons. This person sounded like a full-grown man with a deep, authoritative voice. I put my hand on the butt of my service pistol. “Drop the can. Step away from the wall with your hands in the air. Do it all very slowly.”\n\nThe man bent down and put the can on the ground with nary a sound. He stood back up, hands in the air and turned around. He had a large black beard and wore a giant smile on his face. “You’re a sheriff now, Susan? That makes you a big shot in this town, doesn’t it?”\n\nHe looked familiar. “How do you know who I am?”\n\n“You don’t recognize me, Susan?” He laughed. “I haven’t had that problem in a while.”\n\nI took a closer look at him. It clicked now who he was. “You’re Met Low. What the hell are you doing in rural Oregon?”\n\nMet Low laughed. “A new project, but that’s not important.”\n\n“You’re defacing someone’s property. That’s important. Do you have any idea how much it’s going to cost to paint over this?”\n\n“Paint over it? My work will be worth tens of thousands when I’m done. They’ll want to frame it instead of paint over it,” he said.\n\nI looked at what Met Low had been working on. It looked like a man in a suit was standing on the backs of farmers while a police officer beat a protestor off to the side. “I don’t care. This isn’t yours to paint on.”\n\n“Still like being part of the problem don’t you, Susan?”\n\n“How the hell do you know who I am?” My voice’s volume began to increase.\n\nMet Low rolled his eyes. “I’m not just Met Low. I’m Randy Park.”\n\nRandy Park had been my friend. We had been best friends until our beliefs and lives took separate paths. “Explains why you’re here then.”\n\n“Came into town to see my parents. Thought I’d get some work done while I was here.”\n\n“You’re still being a punk then?”\n\nRandy laughed. “A rich punk.” He motioned to the wall with his half finished work. “I’m serious about this being worth a lot of money when I’m done. Would do a lot of good for the Miller’s.”\n\n“You don’t have their permission to graffiti their restaurant’s wall.”\n\n“I honestly don’t care.” He shrugged. “It’s the message. I bet Mr. Miller will be happy when he learns how much he could get for it.”\n\nThe Millers had been in financial trouble. I took my hand off my gun. “How long before you’re done?”\n\n“An hour or two.”\n\n“Finish it. If I see any more of your graffiti in my town I’ll out you as Met Low,” I said. \n\nRandy looked taken aback. \n\n“I know enough about you to know part of your mystique comes from no one knowing who the real you is. You pull this shit here again and your career is over.” I turned around and walked away to the sound of paint being sprayed. \n_________________________________________________________________________________________________\nThanks for reading! If you liked this visit my subreddit /r/Puns_are_Lazy." ]	6
	[WP] You are a cell in a body that has died. Chronicle your world's impending doom.	[ "I started the day like any other. Well, I mean the past couple years had been tougher than usual, what with the quickly-dwindling police force. Every day it seemed like more and more out-of-towners were blowing in, and wreaking havoc. No one seemed to have a good answer for why the Hell that was happening. But anyway, this particular day started off okay. I worked in a packaging and distribution office, pretty mundane but tedious work. But I was mostly just happy I still had a job. I heard that every day, more and more offices were being shut down. As tedious and repetitive as my work was (with that God-awful, pulsing, beating radio station the managers always kept on for some reason), at least I could put food on the table. \n\nSo I took over for the nightshift as usual, and I got to work. Took in the waste, sent it on its way to the sanitation/disposal crews, and accepted and redistributed the fresh materials to the rest of the businesses that needed them. Usage was really increasing lately, so there was no shortage of work. Well, up until around midday. I started to get fewer and fewer fresh packages, and sanitation seemed to be picking up fewer and fewer disposals. I had no idea what was going on, but I was getting frustrated. I mean they were really slacking, and now I had to work even harder to pick up their mess! And there was no slowing down; in fact, everyone in my office had to drop what they were doing to try and get all this shit that was accumulating out of here. It was full on panic mode; we'd never had to deal with this before. \n\nAfter hours of this, sanitation just went silent. We could usually tell when they were working, since our offices are so close. We can hear their exhaust systems running, a steady gusting-wind type sound. But the sounds kept getting quieter and quieter, slower and slower. And more irregular. Then nothing. I mean, we couldn't get any raw materials anywhere, because we weren't receiving any. \n\nWe assumed no one else could keep working for much longer, but luckily we're the only office in town with a back up power generator, so we were able to keep working longer than everyone else. By this time, we sent a telegram up to the communications building up the street to see what the hell was going on. But all we got was an outgoing message, saying everyone was out of the office. \n\nWell, we had all been thinking this in the back of our minds the whole time, but now we were confronted with the reality: those damned out-of-towners must have ransacked the sanitation district. Without them, they knew the whole town would shut down soon. And then, if only to confirm our worst doubts, we started to see a trickle of them racing down the street where we receive packages. Our local security guards immediately sounded the alarm that goes to the local PD, but of course there was no response. Even without the recent failure of sanitation, the police had been responding to fewer and fewer calls, and with less and less force. Apparently, whatever had caused the bankruptcy at the police force had allowed these ruffians to set up shop in the sanitation district, and now they were able to run amok through all the streets, without fear of reprisal. It began to dawn on all of us that this was it. Now there wasn't any outgoing message at all from Comm, just radio silence. \n\nWe did have the backup generator, but we needed fresh materials as much as everyone else. Pretty soon, water was running out, air was going stale, food was spoiling. We couldn't run our refrigerators, our air filtration systems, nothing. We had lost power. All you could do was look at your friends in the cubicles next to you and see people you had grown up with start to keel over. It got cold. It got dark. Then I started to feel the energy leave me, too. Then darkness washed over me, and I didn't feel anything at all.", "We were told God was dying. I did not believe this, but others did. Some went mad and it pained me to see them take their own lives. I could not speak sense into them. The clean up crew would drive by, pick up their remains, and continue on their way. They have stopped coming by now, and the bodies are piling. I did not believe God had died. I did not want to. I did not think I'd be alone. I do not want to. It seems God was the first to abandon us, to abandon me. I'm ready to join the pile.", "Ed was waiting to get in to 'The Liver'. It was happy hour. Everyone was waiting, but nobody was allowed in yet.\n\nFrank, the bar tender, came out of 'The Liver'. \"Closed today folks! The daily drink didn't come it, sorry!\"\n\n\"What the hell? Its happy hour on Friday!\" Everyone grumbled as they went back to what they where doing.\n\n\"Must be another report due,\" said Carl, \"or maybe he's visiting the parents again.\"\n\nCarl was probably right, but it wasn't normal for the big guy to leave a report go until Friday, and he just visited the parents last weekend. Friday was when the big guy partied. If he got lucky afterword, everyone would rush into the boner, that was always fun. It was shaping up to be a boring Friday.\n\n\"You're probably right.\" said Ed, \"Whad'ya wanna do then?\".\n\n\"Let's go see what Elma's up to, she'll probably know whats up.\"\n\nElma was a nerve cell. Nerve cells knew what was going on before anyone else. They hopped into a vein to go back to the heart, from there they would be able hop into an artery to get to the leg where Elma lived. They got back to the heart faster than usual, the big guy must have been running, or maybe riding his motorcycle. His heart was always beating fast when he rode his motorcycle.\n\n\"Fast trip.\" said Carl.\n\n\"Yep.\" said Ed.\n\nSomething didn't feel right, that was too fast. Ed decided not to worry about it until they talked to Elma, she would know what was up. They tried to get into the artery, but the heart was pumping too fast, the valve close before they could get out.\n\n\"That wasn't normal.\" said Carl.\n\n\"Nope.\" Ed replied.\n\nThey where stuck, they couldn't get out of the fourth chamber. They turned and asked a heart nerve what was wrong.\n\n\"Dunno, everything's going crazy! We can't work this fast!\"\n\nThen everything stopped. Ed and Carl could feel the pressure drop real fast. Things didn't look good.\n\n\"Shit. Follow me, I heard about this.\" said Ed.\n\n\"Heard about what?\".\n\nEd wiggled towards the nearest capillary, Carl followed. Some other cells drifted into last chamber, screaming \"The Oxygen stopped!\"\n\n\"Did you hear that Ed! Do you know what that means? We're all done for!\"\n\n\"Shut up and keep following me.\"\n\n\"There is no where to go! The oxygen stopped, the big guy is dead!\"\n\n\"Just keep following me!!!\"\n\nIt was hard moving without blood flow. Most of the time they had to bump off of other cells that were screaming, crying or cursing. Carl didn't know what Ed had in mind, but he didn't see any other choice.\n\nThey where both tired. They had waited long at the liver and hadn't really stop in the lungs for long on their way to the heart. Ed saw a small capillary ahead. He went for it as quickly as he could.\n\n\"What now?\" asked Carl.\n\n\"Hold on.\" said Ed.\n\nThey heard an awful crunching sound, and cutting, and other cells screaming in terror. The other cells in the chamber poured out, the heart was draining. They could see light through the valve. Light is never a welcome sight for a blood cell, especially if you are in the heart.\n\nEd and Carl held on the edge of the capillary, looking at the empty chamber in front of them. Carl was convinced this was the end.\n\nThings got dark again, then things got really cold. Really cold.\n\n\"I told you we're done for, it doesn't get this cold inside of someone who is alive!\" screamed Carl.\n\n\"We aren't in someone who is alive.\"\n\n\"Then where are we!\" demanded Carl.\n\n\"In a box.\" said Ed.\n\nCarl looked sick when Ed said that. Ed laughed, he knew his plan was working. He had done the impossible and he already knew it.\n\nIt seemed like they survived longer than they would have ever thought possible, in the cold dark box, without blood flow or oxygen. Ed was becoming less sure that they would make it.\n\nSuddenly bright white light lit up the chamber again, they heard more cutting and frightening noises. Carl panicked, Ed had given up on keeping him calm at this point. Things started to get dark again, suddenly the blood flow started again. Lots of unfamiliar blood cells filled the chamber.\n\n\"We're alive...\" said Carl, he couldn't believe it.\n\n\"I know.\" said Ed.\n\n\"Well... HOW!?!\"\n\n\"Its called a transplant, when the young ones die, they take out the good parts to give to other ones who need it.\" explained Ed.\n\n\"We're in a different person now?\" asked Carl, astonished.\n\n\"Yep, lets hope this one wears a helmet.\"" ]	3
	[WP]You find yourself beside a four-way intersection in the middle of a rural, isolated area with no trace of civilization in sight. A suitcase is handcuffed to your lacerated, bleeding wrist and the only thing in your pockets is a crumpled piece of paper with something scribbled on it	[ "The squeaking of my shoes through the muddy wet ground could finally stop. The fog rolled thick tonight with a smell faint with rotted eggs. I looked up to the road sign, illuminated only by the full moon overhead. Desperately I pulled the paper from my pocket, Carefwa Kat just like it said on the sign. So I knelt, the bayou seeping into the fabric of my tired and tattered pants. I opened the briefcase given to me by Vanessa Laveau for the first time. There was a pack of cigarettes, a mortar with pestle and a hand drum. I breathed in sharply through my nose, the stench of the swamp hit me hard. \n\nLooking into the mortar I saw some pale violet flowers and honey, ready to be crushed together. As I started grinding it together a faint breeze pushed some of the fog away. Once finished I sipped the mixture, the bitterness of the flower barely masked by the honey. I took another deep breath of the sulfury air and lifted the hand drum out of the case.\n\nIn that moment it all came over me. I started looking into alternate medicine nearly five years ago. The Western treatments weren't working and she was fading faster and faster. I probed deeper. First into herbs, then crystals and chakra, then spiritualism trying everything I could. By the time she passed I hadn't seen her in a month. I'd been deep in the mountains and couldn't be reached by family or friends [if any were left]. In the past year all of the money was spent, I'd go from library to library trying to find any stories or hints of something that could have helped her. Finally I think I found it here. \n\nI snapped the cigarettes one by one over the closed briefcase heaping their tobacco as high as I could. I rubbed some blood from my open wrist in a circle around the pile. Another deep breath and I began to drum rhythmically. Just as I was told. It felt like minutes. My palm became more and more sore, then progressed into numbness. Could this be hours that passed? Days? It didn't matter. This was the last chance. Then from behind I heard a voice creep through me, \"Bonnwi. Konmen ça va?\"", "My wrist felt numb. My whole body ached. My vision was blurry. I blinked a few times, which in turn restored my vision. I looked around, to find...nothing. Never had anything felt so empty. No birds chirping, no wind blowing, nothing. What was this place? I looked around. I was at an intersection. four ways. My hand felt unusually heavy. There's a briefcase attached to it, with handcuffs. What is going on? I was just...I was roaming, no. I was...I was, fuck. What was I doing? My head throbbed with pain. I slowly reached out for the suitcase. It was of some kind of leather yet somehow it felt like, cotton. It felt unnatural. It was closed but not locked. I opened it with one hand, which was much harder to do than I thought. After struggling with the case, it finally popped open. There was a piece of paper on it. No money, no dead body, just a piece of paper. I picked it up and started reading it. I couldn't help but smile. It all made sense now. My devotion. My prayers. After all these years, he rewarded me the greatest gift. I was chosen out of 7 billion people on this world. I dropped the paper and looked around. So which one do I choose? War, Famine, Pestilence or Death?", "My wrist hurts and the bleeding keeps getting worse. \"Focus\" I tell myself as I look around and try to remember where I was. The whole area is foggy. I can’t tell what time of the day it is or when I got here. \n\nMy head hurts and I can’t think clearly. There is a black suitcase handcuffed to my wrist that’s making the pain even worse. I try to open it, but it’s locked tight. Whoever put me here wants me to carry this like some sick twisted joke.\n\nI look through my pocket hoping to find a key or something. The only thing I find is dirty rumpled piece of paper. Something’s scribbled in it, but it doesn’t make much sense. The first line reads something like- uyo rae edad. iaign. nawt ot tarst lal vero? My head hurts too much to make sense of that.\n\nThere are four paths I can take. Somehow all of them seem vaguely familiar…..but also different somehow. I decide to take the north path, let’s see where the road takes me.\n" ]	3
	[WP] After killing 3 home invaders you collapse to your kitchen floor, on the television you hear reports of a strong hallucinogenic being released by a terrorist group	[ "\"Hey honey, did you hear this? They just said on the news that there are reports of a strong hallucinogenic drug being released by a terrorist group into the drinking water. Skip that coffee I asked for earlier, okay? I don't want to take any chances, you know?\"\n\nShe walks into the living room, holding two cups of coffee, one half empty.\n\n\"Oh, didn't you hear me? Cancel the coffee. If it's in our water supply... honey? Are you alright? And what's that... oh my god, did you cut yourself? You have blood all over your hands.\"\n\nShe quietly puts the coffee cups down on the coffee table and returns to the kitchen. These three lying on the floor she was able to dispatch easily. How they broke into her house, she did not know, but she had to protect her house, her family, her children.\n\nYes, these three assailants were small, almost as small as her own children, but she was certain they were deadly. Luckily this large kitchen knife was the perfect defensive weapon, and easily stopped them in their tracks despite their vicious assault. One had wrapped its arms about her in the initial attack, but the knife did the trick. \n\nYes, removing the heads was difficult, but the knife was sharp. She had to make sure they were dead. And now she hears footsteps behind her. She slowly reaches for the knife. Oh my god, another attacker. Will it never end? She had to protect herself.\n\n\"Honey, are you okay? Did you- oh my god- unnh-\"\n\nPerfect! As she twirls around, she makes a precision strike into the chest of her attacker, plunging the knife as deep as it would go. As he collapses to the floor with a look of disbelief on his face, she smiles. This one was a big one too. Thought you would get me, mother fucker, huh? But I'm no wimpy little house wife. Her husband will be so proud when he gets home and she shows him the results of her skills. This is my house, you animals! And now she needs to remove the head of this one as well, and then she can finally take that shower and relax with another good cup of coffee.", "As I sat on the floor staring at my hands all I could think was that I'd need to call a plumber soon. It's funny how your mind can move to such oddly simple thoughts after such a traumatic experience. My hands were still stained red, and my biggest worry was that I couldn't get the water hot enough to scrub them fully clean. I could have done it eventually of course, but the feeling of the lukewarm water flowering over my fingers was far too reminiscent of another more foul fluid that had recently graced my hands. I had to stop before I let out a sob. I couldn't wake my boys and let them see the dark and thick pool that was still slowly growing on my newly stained carpet. The television threatened to do just that however; it was making such am ugly noise. I vaguely recognized it as an emergency broadcast tone as the announcer began to speak. Most of what he said was lost to my shock riddled mind but here or there I could make out a few words. I giggled to myself thinking \"I guess we have a real war on drugs now\" as he said something about terrorists using hallucinogens to cause Americans to fight one another. My giggle turned to a terrified squeak as I heard the door open. It was another intruder. I had killed his two partners before him and now he was going to kill me.\n\"Mary... good god what have you done?\"\nI had to keep my boys safe from this man. My hands shook as I reached again for the kitchen knife. \n\"He sounds so much like my husband,\" I thought as I made my way towards him. ", "\nWhat did I do? What did the News Reporter just say? My breath caught in my throat at the words of the report on tv. I wasn’t sure I was hearing things right. As I reached out to grab the tv remote, I noticed my finger seemed to bend the space between myself and the remote. \n\nI pulled my hand back but then tentatively reached out in another attempt to pick the remote up. Again, my finger seemed to make a dent in the air, as if there were a clear film separating me from the remote. \n\nJust as I was about to retract my fingers, I notice one of the intruders get up. Impossible! I shot him in the head! My panic began to pulse as the intruder turned around to face me. No bullet wound. No blood. No mark at all. \n\nThe first intruder to stir was holding a wrench in his right hand. He looked like he was about to act on something, but didn’t seem to notice that I was sitting in plain view. Slowly, the other two intruders began to stir and stand. None of them had a mark on them. What on earth is going on?\n\nI slowly pushed myself against the living room side of the wall that divides the kitchen and front room. The intruders don’t seem to notice. What do I do next? I have the gun still, but no bullets. The front door is in the intruders’ view. If I run for it, will I make it?\n\nUpstairs I hear a thud, like someone moving around. I’m clearly hearing things. I live alone! There’s a possibility there is yet another intruder in the house. I wasn't sure what to do, but I felt like my life is certainly in danger. \n\nThe three downstairs intruders are all whispering to each other, each armed with a weapon of choice. They didn’t seem like they heard the thud upstairs. \n\nI felt myself starting to well up, ready to burst into tears due to the fear. I couldn’t be the first to make a move here. Fear had somewhat paralyzed me in place. I worried that when the intruders’ finally acknowledged me, I wouldn’t be able to stand on my legs and defend myself. \n\nSuddenly I heard what was certainly the sound of footsteps coming down my stairs. The stairs end right in front of the wall divide, so the person coming down would see me for sure. \n\nTrying to pull myself into the smallest ball I could, I waited with eyes wide open, wondering who the upstairs visitor was. I could see their feet at this point. Strange, the intruder isn’t wearing shoes, just socks. Actually, those are the same socks I was wearing. \n\nI took a quick glance at the intruders’ to see if they heard the footsteps. They were all still having a whispered conversation that I couldn’t make out. They had no idea someone was about to confront us all. \n\nThe person on the stairs had stopped just enough for me to make out that they were wearing pj bottoms. MY pj bottoms. The exact ones I was wearing at that very moment. I let out a quiet “Jesus…” as the stair intruder descended. They were down the stairs quickly but silently. It was dark downstairs but I know what I saw. I was looking at someone who looked exactly like me. \n\nI felt like I was going to faint when I saw my mirror image appear from the stairs. She, like myself, was carrying a gun. \n\nThe woman on the stairs didn’t seem to notice that I was curled in a ball, nearly right in front of the bottom stair. She was staring through the doorway at the intruders’, who looked like they were about to end their whispered discussion. \n\nThe sudden gun fire made me think of fireworks. Gun fire was so foreign to me up until this night. The intruders’ were starting to move away from each other, one falling to the floor as the third blast cracked over my head. I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to be there, not wanting to experience this. \n\nAfter the gun fire stopped, the house was nearly silent except for a few quiet groans of what I could only assume were the intruders’ taking their last breaths. The woman on the stairs had killed the intruders’. \n\nSuddenly, the woman was on the floor in front of me, looking dazed at what she had done. This looked too familiar to me. \n\nThe woman sat on her knees for a moment before the tv caught her attention. She turned to look at the tv, seemingly refusing to catch my gaze. As she reached for the remote control, I felt a dizzying sense of deja vu. As she pulled her hand back, empty handed, I felt my stomach drop. I felt tears streaming down my face as she reacted to the news article in an identical way, with an identical face, as I did. \n\nHer second attempt to grab the remote failed, as it did the first time we did this. I could see the dent from the front of her fingers impression. It looked similar to the dent that appeared in front of my finger tip, but darker. \n\nThe first intruder was stirring again. I saw myself react with the same fear that I initially felt minutes ago. \n\nAs I slid toward myself I felt a warm feeling. I scooted into the front room enough so that she had a place to hide behind the wall. I knew what was going to happen and I was starting to feel the forced fear from her, but it was ok this time. We would hide together. \n\nWe watched helplessly as those same socks descended the stairs for a third time. Was it a third time? My second self didn’t see me here, so is there a chance there is a me who was here before I was? When would this end? There only remained three intruders, but I continued to multiply. \n\nI’m still sitting here with my multiples and I can tell we’re all wondering what it was that report had said.\n", "Clearing my head, I look down at the neatly chopped carrots and laugh to myself.\n\nThen a tear slowly forms and rolls down my face, no, not a face, down my body. I ruffle my hair, no, not my hair, my leaves. I too am carrot. Those were my best friends and family and the terrorists. I pray to my God, no wait. I am the carrot God, bow before me. The world bows. I hate them for their weakness, I send them to carrot hell. The stew of nothingness where rot takes hold and purple enters the brain. You hear a small child asking, \"Carrot?\"\n\nI am the carrot god. You are not.\n\nTLDR: It was a cheese knife. The TV was tuned to static. I am the number 4.", "Made minor alterations to the setting but here you go:\n\nThe last of them collapses into a heap of splayed limbs on my bathroom floor. The knife slips from my trembling fingers, landing in a pool of blood that slowly expands around the now lifeless individual. It begins to seep into the cracks between the tiles, tracing patterns of claret in parallel lines. I am briefly hypnotised by its repulsive beauty and find my mind wandering to the irrigation systems we were taught about in school. I attempt to focus on the face of my attacker with difficulty. Their form seems vague, ambiguous, like a shadow or mirage. I reach out and my hand grips hair and solid flesh. They certainly feel real enough. But why can't I see their face? I rub the heels of my palms vigorously into my eyes. Bursts of orange light erupt before me, but ultimately this action proves futile. My sight returns and I feel even more disorientated than before. Must be the shock. Maybe I need an ambulance? I certainly need to phone the police to inform them of the intruders. They would understand. Self-defense, and all that. I know my rights! I turn and head downstairs. \n\nI pass the other two in the hallway. They seem bigger than the one upstairs. I am still astounded that I was able to overpower them all. I thought fending off three attackers at once would be practically impossible, but it was almost easy. One of the side effects of adrenaline, I suppose. Once I had dispatched the first two, the third seemed to panic and ran upstairs. Of course, I followed them - I could not risk them entering the rooms of the children. Cornering them in the bathroom was the only option. \n\nI enter the living room. The television is still on from when I first went to investigate the noises in the house. The images on the screen swim and blur before me, a vast collection of colourful pixels that fail to form any kind of coherent shape. I begin to wonder if it somehow got damaged in the struggle, when I realise I can still hear everything with perfect clarity. A young woman is in the process of announcing that a terrorist organisation have claimed responsibility for releasing a strong hallucinogen into the city's water supply. She goes on to advise against drinking any tap water if it can be avoided. I snort and shake my head. Fear mongering. I made myself a cup of tea earlier and feel absolutely fine. Although, I suppose the idea of a terrorist threat is not entirely ridiculous in this day and age. Hell, now that I think about it, maybe those intruders were terrorists? I guess that makes me a hero? Who knows, maybe that's up to the mayor to decide. Feeling exhausted, I collapse into the sofa. \n\nI soon hear the sounds of sirens approaching and my living room is suddenly decorated by flashes of blue and red, dancing across the walls. Ah good, the police. Did I call them already? There's too much blood, I should make myself more presentable. What if they're with the mayor? I look up and am greeted by the sight of my youngest, clutching our phone tightly to her chest. I find her face as difficult to focus on as the rest, but I would know her anywhere. She's my baby. \n\n\"Why did you do it, daddy?\"\n\nShe sounds terrified. \n\n\"I had to, sweet pea. They were trying to get into our home. I couldn't let them hurt you or your brothers. I'm sorry if I scared you.\" \n\nThere is a knock at the door. I attempt to get up, but my limbs won't support me. Why am I so exhausted?\n\n\"Daddy's very tired, baby. Can you tell Mummy to answer the door, please?\" \n\nNo response.\n\nI look back up and she is no longer stood there. I hear the click of the front door latch as it opens. I wonder how they got in earlier without breaking it down?\n\nEdit: Words etc." ]	5
	[WP] Oil, Coal and Natural Gas were never present on Earth. Instead of an "Industrial" Revolution, Humanity progressed differently over the past 300 years.	[ "I know it doesn't quite fit the prompt, but I was inspired to write a prequel to previous story of mine: [Not a place of honor](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2ffvsl/wp_a_future_civilization_unknowingly_uncovers_a/ck9lm00). That one actually goes more into depth about a world without fossil fuels. This one is more about why the world doesn't have fossil fuels in the first place. I'd recommend reading this one first.\n\n----\n\n\"Learner Sertek! Learner Sertek! Come quickly, you won't believe what's happened!\"\n\nMy assistant's voice jolted me from my work as it came through the open doorway, followed by the man himself at a run. He skidded to a stop at my desk and leaned down to catch his breath. I sighed and put down the book I was researching before turning to my out-of-breath assistant.\n\n\"What is it now, Hachim? You know I'm busy with this paper. I do hope it's important?\"\n\nMy assistant nodded, taking a few more deep breaths before speaking. \"Yes, absolutely. I think it may be relevant to the research you've been working on.\"\n\nI raised my eyebrow at that, but silently followed Hachim down the hallway. He led me to the main hall of the building, where a large number of my compatriots were gathered around something of great interest. I politely squeezed through the crowed until I could catch a glimpse of what they were gawking at.\n\nIn front of them, I could see the well-known adventure-palentologist Indaran Jovest talking with various newspaper corrispondents. I scowled silently at his back; his work tended to be more impressive than substantial. I refused to take it seriously, though the news always seemed to eat it up. Looking around further, I could see various artifacts that he had brought with him from across the ocean, no doubt aboard one of those expensive charcoal steamships that he so fondly enjoyed. The centerpiece of his display seemed to be a rather interesting skeleton paritially embedded in rock.\n\nThe very sight of it filled me with anger and contempt. A proper scientist would have left it where it was to be studied on-site, but this fool had it chisled out and brought along with him, no doubt so he could show it to the press. Still, there was no denying the significance of the find. It was an interesting skeleton, apparently primate in nature. The skeleton was about five and a half feet in height, though I doubted the creature would have stood straight up while it was alive. It was difficult to tell with so many pieces missing, but it looked very much like a newly-discovered species to me. One characteristic of great interest was the rather large size of the skull. I wouldn't be able to tell for certain without examining the cranial cavity, but I thought it very likely that these creatures would have had a rather large brain.\n\nOf course, even an idiot like Jovest would have noticed something like that. At that moment, I caught a bit of what he was saying to the press, and I could only rub my head in frustration.\n\n\"As you can see, the skeleton has a giant head, much like our own. This clearly indicates a large brain cavity, surely signifying a significant level of intelligence. It is my professional opinion that the find represents a discovery of an entirely new sapient species. In fact, it is my belief that these creatures even possesed an advanced culture at one point, as indicated by the other artifacts I have over here...\"\n\nHe lead the facinated reporters over to some set of funny-looking rocks or whatever it is he found. I just shook my head and turned to Learner Halor, who was standing next to me, examining the skeleton.\n\n\"You don't really believe the drivel he's spouting, do you? It is an interesting find, certainly, but to assert that the species was sapient? With no proof?\"\n\nHalor tilted his head dismissivly. \"I admit, he's a bit of a reckless fool when it comes to these sorts of things. Still... look at the size and shape of that brain case. It's almost like looking in a mirror... if mirrors showed skeletons, of course.\"\n\nI huffed in indignation. \"It would certainly be a great find if that turns out to be the case, but we must remember to be objective. Regardless of whether or not he does. What other sorts of 'artifacts' has he brought with him? Surely nothing would have survived being buried that long.\"\n\nHalor rolled is eyes and sighed. \"Yes, I have the same doubts as you. He's brought a few funny-looking chunks of metal that were embedded in the rock near the skeleton. If they were ever actual artifacts rather than just interesting chunks of iron or, then they've long since rusted into unrecognizability. They were found in a cave somewhere deep in Kechkel. He of course claims the cave is artificial, but... honestly, I don't think he even believes that part himself. I think he's just showing off for the press.\"\n\nI groaned. \"You really think he believes any of it? Bah, he was never a good scientist anyway. That's why he never made Learner, after all.\"\n\nHalor coughed. \"Erm... about that... The Guild was actually rather impressed with the whole find. They appreciate the kind of attention he's capible of bringing to the scientific community, and... well...\"\n\n\"You mean to tell me they made him a Learner? Over this!?\" I growled in frustration \"I can't believe it. We worked hard for that position, and they go and hand it out to this... this... glorified celebrity!\"\n\nAt that moment, High Manager Aspich chose to walk into the hall. She quickly made a beeline toward us as she spotted us in the crowd. \"Ah, Lerner Sertek! I'm glad you're here! I take it you've already seen the wonderful artifacts that Jovest brought us?\"\n\nI surpressed a scowel and answered in the most civil tone I could manage. \"Yes, of course. They're very... interesting.\"\n\nShe clapped her hands in delight. \"Wonderful! In fact, I've been looking for you. You see, Learner Jovest... oh, sorry, did someone tell you? Jovest has been accepted into the Palentological Guild as a Learner! It's so exciting, really. The official ceremony is next week, and you are of course invited to attend...\" She trailed off as her train of thought derailed and plunged into a canyon.\n\n\"Err... sorry, where was I? Oh, yes. Learner Jovest has requested for some Guild assistance for his next expedition to Kechkel. As one of the newer Learners yourself, I thought that it would be a wonderful experience if you could go along with him! The expedition leaves in a few weeks. I'll stop by your office later this week, so we can work out the details. I'm sure you must be so excited for the chance to work with one of the most famous individuals in the world!\"\n\n\"Oh, absolutely.\" I replied dryly.\n\nI gave a mental sigh and thought about refusing, but decided against it. As tedious as the expedition would likely be with Jovest along for the ride, it was still a rare event to see, and I really didn't want to pass up the opportunity. I just had to find a way to tolerate his presence. By an unfortunate chance, it was at that moment I heard Jovest's voice drifing over from where he was speaking. \"...and I've taken the liberty of naming the species Hominis Jovesticus in honor of my discovery of them. Some of my assistants have taken to calling them 'humans', but really, the scientific name is the proper way of identifying them.\"\n\nI groaned and buried my head in my hands. This was going to be a long trip.", "It was a god send when the meteors fell. Yes the destruction caused was horrific but locked in the meteors was the secret to our future. Crystals capable of storing raw energy safely (after some accidents) were found in the hearts of each fallen meteor. The quest to understand lead our people to reach impossible heights. I am not an engineer or a scientist so all I know is what I learnt in school. Thanks to the crystals we have machines that run on lightning and every storm brings hope. According to the morning paper man made crystals have finally been perfected. What will tomorrow bring? By the spark of invention all will be within our grasp. Glancing to the moon I smile, maybe one day even the stars will be in the reach of man. \n(rough quick hashing out hopefully you catch my Intent)", "A cool wind floundered across the rugged landscape, caressing the rocky soil in puffs and whorls before moving on. The boulder missed the warmer days, when that breeze brought scents of ocean salt, moisture, and the sound of trees.\n\nThe boulder missed the trees. Many lesser rocks would be split apart by their roots, but the shade they gave, the towering trunks and spreading branches. The warmth of the wood, the firmness of their root systems, holding the larger rocks such as himself from rolling away, and sheltering him from the slow grinding of a harsh wind.\n\nThe wind returned, bitter cold fingers curiously searching the weathered stone's many crevassed face. Men came following that wind, once. Great beasts of metal and fire held no terror for the stone, and trees have too even a temperament to know fear. Some stones were moved, shaped, into small holes above the ground in which the men spent their days. In time more trees fell, and the holes grew taller, covered in a transparent material, like air made hard. This stone could not be moved, and so the men made it one of their own, patterning it with runes that seemed to please many. Above their heads the skies grew darker, as more trees became food for their beasts. But their eyes were never toward the heavens, but only unto each other.\n\nThe wind shivered its way across the ground again, searching for the carvings that once adorned this boulder. Once, the water the wind would bring might create their own patterns across its surface. But the oceans were memories, as were the sky and the trees. The boulder did not know what became of the men, with their busy attitudes, their exciting smells, their hunger for what they called 'progress'. They simply stopped growing, faltering and declining like the tides that once graced this scenery. \n\nRocks have long memories, and rocks have long lives. But even they are not immortal. This stone would not last. One by one his counterparts had worn away, the bitter cold, dry wind carrying them away one tiny grain at a time. It would not be long, in the eyes of a stone, until he was alone on the landscape. A barren wasteland of pulverized rock, brown dust stretching as far as the eye could see. If there were eyes left to see.\n\nThe wind moved on, continuing its slow circuit of the wasted planet. Once a pale blue oasis in the desert of space, it had fallen from grace as had others before. A dusty brown dot in the sky, joining its red sister in the endless dance across the stars.\n\n", "(Note: I decided to say it's been a bit more than 300 years..) Has it really been 5 years? Earth years of course. Out here it hasn't even been a year. The Company sends us out here as \"Overseers\", whether as engineers to fix the inevitable flaws, managers to make sure everything goes smoothly, though I'm more of a... \"General assistant\". We're out here , millions of miles away from home, on Titan, for the very, VERY valuable hydrocarbons present. The stuff has a million uses! Plastic, fuel, energy, it's incredible! This is a strange world - a thick orange haze surrounds Kappa Base, a little \"Home away from home\", yet that lake is methane, not water, and it is COLD out there! And up at the launch platform, miles above the surface, you can see Saturn in all its glory. Truly exquisite. And miles below the surface, there is an ocean. And like the subsurface oceans of Europa, Ceres, Enceladus, and even PLUTO for God's sake, has life! Only Europa and Titan have the raw resources to support multicellular life, though. I've ought to sign off - the next nuclear EmTug is nearly here, and we're 1,376 tons behind quota! This has been Sergeant Cassini Huygens, signing off.", "The steam ship breezed silently over the city, coasting to a stop at its dock two hundred feet above the boarding stations. Stepping aboard the lift, which rocketed the passengers to the loading dock, I stowed my baggage and reclined back. Preparing for a eight hour journey over the mountains, to the coast. \r\rStaring out over the city well below me, as the stewardess began to pour drinks, I asked for a double. The bustling activity well below always astounded me, watching the air ships and steam trains bustling about. After the boarding, after everyone settled in and consumed their steam brewed liqour we all departed. \r\rDrifting about in the, I must have fell asleep into a buzzed induced coma. For when I heard the shouting, my eyes peeled open to reveal the chaos before me. Several armed men, with their muskets and swords, ran through the cabin, pushing people about as they continued to holler. \r\rAfter all this time, all these flights, I would live to experience a Cordavian terrorist attack. They barbarians didn't even wear top hats! At first seemed rather disorganized, maybe the the plan went awry or they had a lack of one. Whispering to each other, shrugging their shoulders, after they took the pilots cabin..." ]	5
Inspired by Neil Gaiman's "Brief Lives"	[WP] You were an abandoned prototype for Eve. The Bible forgot you and a design flaw makes you immune to death.	[ "Whoever was knocking on the door was damn persistent. I rolled over in my bed and tried to cover my ears with my pillow. This noise was NOT helping my hangover. Just as I started to relax again and drift back to sleep, the knocking started again, louder than before.\n\n\"Fine! You win!\" I shouted. \"I'm coming. Just shut the fuck up!\"\n\nI stormed through my messy studio apartment to the door and flung it open. A smallish man jumped back in surprise at my sudden appearance. Immediately, from the look of desperation on his face, I knew he wasn't one of the random salespeople, or Jehovah's Witnesses or whatever dumb rabble that were unfortunate enough to choose my apartment to sell their thing. No, he was here to solicit my help.\n\n\"Um...are you--I mean, did I find the right...\" the man stumbled. \n\nI would have been amused at this display if my head weren't pounding so bad. Ugh, I definitely should never have drunk that long island iced tea. After that drink the night had just gone downhill.\n\n\"Look, I'm sorry I bothered you, I guess I woke you up...\" His voice trailed off into unintelligible muttering, then silence as he stood there looking at the ground.\n\nAlright, despite the hangover, this guy was definitely starting to amuse me.\n\n\"Do you know who I am?\" I finally asked.\n\n\"L-lilith?\" He said almost apologetically.\n\n\"Just call me Lily. Get inside.\" \n\nI turned around and walked to the couch. It was covered in pizza boxes, old Taco Bell and dirty clothes. I grabbed a big pile of food wrappers and underwear and threw it into the corner.\n\n\"Have a seat.\"\n\nI walked over to the kitchen. I needed some food and water in me fast.\n\nAfter looking at the couch uncertainly, the man took a seat. \"I--I'm sorry I woke you up. You didn't have to--I mean, I would have understood if you'd--you know, taken the time to get dressed.\"\n\nI looked down at myself. Right. I'd have a better conversation with him if he wasn't distracted. I threw on some jeans lying in the middle of the floor and a tank top that was hanging over my desk chair. \n\n\"Lily, I need your help.\"\n\n\"Yeah, I figured. What's your payment?\" I went back to the kitchen and poured myself a bowl of Cheerios. \n\nThe man took a deep breath. \"Well, I took out a loan from a shady lender...\" HIs voice droned on and faded into the background while my headache throbbed, begging for relief.\n\nI opened the fridge. No milk.\n\n\"GOD FUCKING DAMN IT!\"\n\nHe let out a little shriek of surprise. \"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to upset you! But I promise I can pay you well. I scrounged up a hundred thousand to pay them off. It's yours if you'll just get them off my back.\"\n\n\"I DON'T WANT YOUR FUCKING MONEY! I JUST WANT A GOD DAMN GALLON OF MILK!\"\n\nHe was doing his best to blend in with the couch at this point. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine myself somewhere calm. I breathed deeply a few times. It was fine, it wasn't a big deal.\n\n\"It's alright,\" I said aloud, \"I'll just make some eggs.\" I got the frying pan from the sink and started scraping off yesterday's eggs.\n\n\"I don't take money,\" I said a bit more calmly. \"Didn't anyone tell you?\"\n\n\"No. They just said I should come prepared to pay.\"\n\n\"I have more money than I could ever use, even in my lifetime.\"\n\nHe shifted uncomfortably. \"So...how can I pay?\"\n\n\"You got anything unusual, or hard to get, or something you made yourself?\"\n\n\"Um...\" He was clearly taken aback by this. He sat in silence when I cooked up my eggs. It looked like this was difficult, deep thought for him.\n\n\"I have a side business fixing up old cars. I'll bet I could could find you something pretty cool.\" He looked at me with a mix of worry and hope.\n\n\"Meh, I'm more of a motorcycle girl.\"\n\nDejected, he re-furrowed his brow. I couldn't wait any longer for my eggs. I ate them runny. Sweet delicious relief ran down my throat and warmed my belly. I smiled for the first time that morning.\n\n\"I've collected almost all of the US state quarters. I could give that to you.\"\n\nI cocked my head and looked at him. He almost seemed as if he wanted me to refuse, like it was super special to him. He averted his eyes when he realized that wasn't something I was interested in. I finished off my eggs.\n\n\"I did get invited to see Mars Descending a couple weeks early. You could have my ticket.\"\n\n\"No fucking way, dude!\"\n\n\"Sorry, I can't think of anything else!\"\n\n\"No, that's way cool! I've been dying to see that movie since I saw the first ad.\"\n\n\"Really? I don't even like sci-fi.\"\n\n\"Your loss man. So tell me about those loan sharks.\"", "This doesn't really fit the writing prompt, and I'm starting to hate this story, but after taking so long with it I'm going to put it out there for you guys. Let me know what you think. \n\n*****************************\n\nI nervously gasped for my cup of coffee. I didn't know where to start asking questions. \"So...why are you different? Did something happen to you?\"\n\nShe smiled over her tea. \"Do you know the story of Lilith?\"\n\n\"No,\" I answered. I was a little annoyed. She said she would only answer my questions as long as our drinks lasted, and this didn't seem a good start.\n\n\"In the story of genesis there are two stories of the creation of humans, one where God make man and woman on the sixth day, and both are made at the same time. It then goes into a second narrative, where God first makes Man, then, after finding no suitable helper among the animals, He then makes Woman out of Man's rib.\" Her tone was warm and melodic, but this didn't answer my questions at all.\n\n\"I want to know why you are alive, and this doesn't seem related,\" I was trying to not be rude, but seeing someone survive, then walk away from being turned into a grisly human pancake didn't seem related to religion. \n\n\"If, by the end of my story, you think I am wasting time, I will stay for a second cup, which I will pay for.\" When I nodded she continued. \"Most people don't notice this, or think that one story is going into greater depth than the first, but they are wrong. Adam was created along side a woman, and it wasn't Eve, it was Lilith.\" Her eyes sparkled with intensity. \"Some say that she was thrown out of the garden because she wouldn't submit to the man, and when he complained God made another partner for him. That is not so; She spent time speaking to one scholars would later refer to as a snake.\"\n\n\"So,\" I added in, \"She talked to Satan?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Why?\" I couldn't see how this would relate to anything that had happened, but my shift was over, and I might not have a job the next day, giving me a little time to kill. Besides, maybe it would some how relate to something about that horrible car accident.\n\n\"He isn't just the accuser, but all of who he is and what he does isn't really important. He did, however, tell the woman everything that would happen if she ate of the 'tree' of Knowledge, or the 'tree' of life. So while God wasn't looking she ate from the tree of life.\"\n\nShe was drinking her tea very slowly, and as the sun came up and touched her dark ringlets they seemed to shimmer with color. \"Wasn't that what God wanted? For people to live forever?\" I asked. \n\nShe laughed, then looked at me very directly, saying, \"No. God never wanted that. One of the first commands that God gives is for man to be fruitful and multiply. If all the people who ever lived were still here today how much space do you think we would have to even walk around? No. God wanted death.\" \n\nI thought for a moment. \"Isn't that a little cruel, to offer knowledge and to punish them when they seek it?\"\n\n\"You note one of many problems. They had been in the garden for a long time, wondering what it all meant. They had no concept of death, they hadn't even seen animal die. What was death? Or eternal life? They had not spoken to the snake long enough to know these things. Both my sister Eve and brother Adam wanted to know. They even wanted to experience death. This word held little meaning, and they had grown bored in the garden, wanted to leave it. So God started the clock ticking on their lives, let them roam the world.\"\n\n\"So, you are Lilith?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\nI considered what she said. The night before I had picked up remains of a body, to take to the morgue, only to find that while we were on the way that said remains were moving. My screaming at my partner nearly caused a second accident. The remains, the scattered parts, were suddenly a very badly disfigured, and whole, person. We did our best to help her, and the hospital redirected us to the ER. A lawyer was waiting for us after we delivered her. He wanted to know how the hell anyone could screw up that badly. I filled the bag, I had seen her go into it. I had even seen the skin on her reform as I initiated her. By the time we got there, she hadn't need our help. Some how, some where, there must have been a switch. Regardless, the woman was allowed to leave, and had even promised to not sue the hospital. So I might still have a job. Might. For a bullshit explanation it wasn't a bad one.\n\nI asked, \"Do you have any proof?\"\n\n\"Yes, I still have the fruit.\"", "My name is Eve. I was not born from the rib of a man, but of stardust itself. \n\nFather made me in His perfect image. But, I have only one flaw. I am immune to what mortals call death. I can shatter my bones. I can tear apart my skin. But within seconds, I would be back to my original state yet again.\n\nI no longer feel* emotions. I lost those long ago. \n\nMy Father has tried to rid this earth of me. But no matter how he goes about it, I end up where I began. I have read all there is to learn, and have been anywhere of importance. I have lived every walk of life. I've been a dancer, a cook, a Great General. I've been to space. I've fallen into the crevasse of Earth. I've been to the highest mountains. I have felt everything from Love to Fear.\n\nI have been Presidents. Queens. Peasants. \n\nThousands have attempted to kill me. I have attempted to kill me. The dark thoughts litter my mind. \n\nAnd when the Earth is no more, the Moon is all I'll be able to see. \n\nYet, there will forever be one thing I won't be able to understand. \n\nAnd that, my friend, is death. \n\n\n ", "Life was supposed to work differently. I was created, not from a rib like the other woman, but from Adam's very flesh. I worked differently.\n\nBecause flesh constantly regenerates itself all of my cells were imbued with this power. Bones only regenerate when they break - skin regenerates constantly and without first failing - unlike the other woman I could not break and did not need to break in order to regenerate. I could not die. I did not bleed every 30 days like she, and all subsequent women, did. Instead I renewed myself and all my cells - I had one egg and one egg only and it never left unless fertilized - every 30 days I had new cells. I never aged.\n\nWhen God looked upon me he was unpleased. Not because I was ugly, or because I was sinful - but because there was no reason for me to do good. There was no stick - only carrot. God could not have his people living forever with no reason to believe that the life they were living wasn't the only thing they'd ever have. He thought all would fall into moral decay because life would always go on and there was never any thought of being good for any extrinsic reason. And he thought that his creation would forget about him - he wanted credit for what he had done. God was worried that free will would run amok if left without any external motivation for people to choose good over evil. He also thought that man would not survive if women could only deliver one child.\n\nAnd so he created the other woman. And he created Heaven and Hell. He created the stick.\n\nEdit: I used \"Eve\" and didn't mean too so I changed it." ]	4
	[WP] You have the ability to stop time but only for five seconds every hour. At 8am you decide to stop time just to make sure everything is in working order, when you notice that the man standing next to you doesn't stop	[ "7AM \n\nTreasure, that is what you are! Baby you're my...\n\nA sharp pain went through my head as that all familiar Bruno Mars song blared throughout my room, announcing that it was time for me to start the day. I always felt like Bruno Mars had a very soothing voice to wake up to, but I've grown sick of it after hearing him every gruesome morning. I grabbed my phone off the nightstand next to my bed, and grumpily pressed the disable button. I looked out the window. It was still pitch black outside. \n\n\"Why do I even bother going to work?\" I muttered to myself. I paused time for a brief moment like I do every morning, needing those five extra seconds before even considering getting out of bed. Whenever I paused time, the air always felt stiff, as if air particles themselves were frozen in time. Sitting there, I looked around my room with my eyes half-opened. For a person that had an additional 5 seconds in life, my room was pretty messy. Clothes covered the floor, cups lined the desk around my computer, and chairs were used as tables for various papers that I felt necessary to hoard. \n\nThe air around me shifted back to normal, signalling that my time was up. I stepped out of bed, grabbed my bathrobe, and got in the shower. \n\nThinking back, I've had this ability to \"freeze\" time for as long as I can remember. As a kid, I wasn't able to control the power well, but once I reached the teenage years, I mastered my power for my own advantages. Cheating on tests, sneaking peaks under skirts, playing pranks on my friends. Everything a teenager would do with the power to stop time. I guess I had an enhanced teenage experience. Being a senior in college, I didn't need time control to do all these things, so I started using it more practically. \n\nHowever, the more people I told about my power, the more people thought I was crazy. Nobody believed me. I tried proving it to my closest friends and parents, but they all looked at me like I needed to be put into a mental hospital. Whenever I tried to prove myself, my mother would start to cry, and my father would end up punching something. It didn't help that my friends wouldn't believe me either. That's when I decided to run away from home, and what better place to go than New York-- the city with the most diversity and variant in the world. \n\n8AM\n\nI promptly stepped out of the door and head to the bus stop. I went down three blocks, passing the skyscrapers and bustling people. I've always hated New York because of all the noise and commotion going on constantly. \n\nThe bus pulls up just as I arrive at the stop. As usual, while waiting in line to get on, I take another five seconds to check if I have everything: keys, wallet, phone. The air stiffens, the noise, and everyone freezes in place. \n\n\"Ah... How peacefully quiet..\"\n\n\"Isn't it?\" a voice whispers.\n\nI dart my head to the sound of the voice. A slender figure in a black trench coat walks past me. \n\n\"You're not alone\"", "Coffee. Code. \n\nCode. Coffee.\n\nIt's not particularly fabulous, but it is my life. I chose it because I liked it, even when it sucked. I had big dreams of becoming a software developer for a big company like Elgoog or Orange, but it never happened. Now I do helpdesk IT. It's so easy, might as well spank my ass and call me a baboon. \n\nSeveral months ago, I walked into a decrepit thrift shop. Sometimes I come looking for old games. Those are quite valuable, you know. People just threw them in boxes. One day I came across a nice PC with all the best components. Amazing that someone would give it to these gypsies.\n\nIt had 64GB of RAM, an AMD 8-Core CPU running at 4.7GHz, SSD, all the works. Probably stolen. God knows who else would sell it here. As I thought about God, metaphorically of course, a chill shot down my spine like electricity. Funny, I'm an atheist. Anyway, none of that matters.\n\nI bought the computer for twenty dollars. An hour's worth of work and boom, I've got this. Nice, looks like life is finally turning around for me. I took it home and turned it on. It appeared to boot to a command line, looked like Linux, but didn't have any software I was familiar with installed. The prompt just said 00:00:00 VERSAL_SYSTEMS. How unique, I'd never heard of them.\n\nI stood staring at it.\n \n00:00:01 VERSAL_SYSTEMS \n00:00:02 VERSAL_SYSTEMS \n00:00:03 VERSAL_SYSTEMS \n00:00:04 VERSAL_SYSTEMS \n\nJust as the fifth second should have hit, something odd happened. It turned back over to 00:00:00 VERSAL_SYSTEMS. Maybe that wasn't counting seconds, but it sure seemed like it. I stared again, watching closely at the incrementing number. Sure enough, it rolled over. Piece of shit.\n\n**\n\n8 AM the next day. More coffee, more tickets to resolve. Damned barnacle-eating idiots can't even plug in a mouse or restart their computer. Whatever.\n\nMy boss was standing over my shoulder. Something about the internet working for everyone but him? I don't know, he probably unplugged the cord somehow. His jabbering was filtered out. It was automatic now. When he was done, I would say \"I can't fix it until you submit a detailed ticket.\" and he would go back and submit a ticket. Same thing as he said, so why worry.\n\nDebbie walked by. She wasn't that hot, but she always dressed just right to become at least an 8/10. She carried drinks for some of my coworkers. She never brought me anything, although I never asked. \n\nI need a break.\n\nJust as I thought that, she bumped into the wall and spilled coffee on herself. Oops, almost* spilled coffee on herself. Time stopped, for the most part. The coffee stopped inches from her exposed chest. I wonder how long until it spills.\n\nMy boss hadn't finished explaining his problem. He kept going.\n\nI counted in my head. 1...2...3...4...\n\nJust as I would have counted five, the coffee spilled. Debbie yelped. She dropped the cup carrier, spilling all over the floor. Fuck it.\n\nMy boss just walked off and I yelled back at him. He never finished, did he?\n\nHe came back and said that he did, but would also submit a ticket. For once things go my way.\n\nHe walked into his office, picked up the phone, and started chatting with someone. He never shuts up.\n\nHe never...shuts up.\n\nHe never stopped talking.\n\n" ]	2
http://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/2ss3c1/if_you_could_wake_up_tomorrow_having_gained_one/	[WP] Everything on this r/AskReddit post is granted to the person who wishes for it. http://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/2ss3c1/if_you_could_wake_up_tomorrow_having_gained_one/	[ "It was a clear day. The sun was shining, birds were singing and stuff. The alarm on /u/Masterchief775's phone blared loudly in his room waking him up from his restful slumber. He was all prepared for a full day of doing stuff so he climbed out of bed and got ready to go out and do various things.\n\nAs he stepped outside to begin checking stuff off from his list, a fly landed on his face. /u/Masterchief775 was not one to allow a fly to climb on his cheek without repercussions so he quickly slapped himself in the face. Right as the loud smacking noise from the slap broke the silence of the early morn, a peculiar thing happened. Everything instantly froze. The fly that he missed with his errant slap was stopped in mid-air right in front of his face. /u/Masterchief775 looked around and everything was still, not a sound could be heard or a breeze felt.\n\n\"What is going on,\" thought /u/Masterchief775, \"am I dreaming?\" He slapped himself again to test that thought and everything began moving. Another slap to his face and everything stopped again. \"Whoa,\" he said out loud, \"this is awesome! I can control time so I'm going to go do stuff.\"\n\n/u/Masterchief775 couldn't keep this to himself so he ran over to his friends house and told them his special power. His friends didn't believe him, but humored him anyway. \"What are you going to do?\" asked /u/Player08. \n\n\"I dunno, stuff I guess,\" replied /u/Masterchief775.\n\n\"Butt stuff,\" remarked his smart alecky friend /u/Malcolm-McDowell.\n\nEveryone laughed and /u/Masterchief775 slapped his face to freeze his friends in a jolly mood. He then went out the door to go do stuff." ]	1
	[WP] Humannity has one great attribute that gives them an advantage in their war against the aliens. However, instead of something positive like ingenuity, it's something we're all kind of ashamed that we still have	[ "Journal of SGT James Mallory\n\nJan 18 2632, FOB Ohio\n\nThe next phase of the operation is in the morning and I fear this will be the last words I ever write. I want to share my thoughts on the war for someone, someday, to find. \n\nWe're winning. We're finally winning. After two years of getting pushed back mile by mile, we've finally gained an inch. In July of 2630 three space craft landed in Berlin, Beijing, and New York and quickly made beachheads for them. By \"them\" I mean the grey, insect looking fucks. They were able to reinforce their numbers far faster than we could kill them, and the whole world lost their trained troops within weeks. Apparently ground war was the enemy's strength, their ships in orbit never bombarded the surface. Two years of no orbital strikes, we knew we had a two dimensional fight, a type of war that humanity is well versed in. Straight engagements have been out of the question for a while now. Their plasma weapons can kill even if they miss a person, the heat boils the skin instantly, and their combat armor and medics make it damn-near impossible to kill one of them unless you blow them apart. What was left of the United North American Army pulled back to the Mississippi, hoping to use the river to our advantage. It worked. Which gave me time to come up with the plan that led me to where I am now.\n\nBefore I enlisted at the start of the war, I was studying history. This is where I first learned of the tactics and mindset that lead terrorism to many victories in the early 21st century. Fanatical racism. In the 21st it was about differing ideologies and not race itself, but the same underlying human emotion was used then, and I knew I could use it know. \n\nI worked with the PSYOPS team to broadcast to the resistance militias in the east. We have all been fighting out of fear. Fear of death, fear of enslavement, fear of an unknown future. I needed to spread hate. Hatred of the enemy, hatred of the very thought of their existence. I didn't know if anyone was listening at first, but when intel started reporting militia victories it was obvious they were. \n\nA particularly tenacious group in Ohio had caused a retreat by the greys, a term I had turned into a part of what would be considered hate-speech. This was exactly what I needed, a place to defend and recruit. \n\nI arrived here four days ago with a team of eight and met up with the roughly 350 men and women of the militia. Since then I've fortified the small outpost into a proper FOB and doubled our numbers inside. Yesterday we held back a grey attack. Another idea stolen from the history books was the cause of our victory. Suicide. I convinced four men that carrying a backpack nuke was the only way to ensure the survival of the human race. \n\nIt has been over three hundred years since humanity has suffered a death by reason of difference of religion or skin color. I brought it all back. Too many people have asked my today why I'm not volunteering to nuke myself for humanity, we've become to rational for the old strategy to work for long. That is why these are the last words I'll ever write. Me and five other men will penetrate enemy lines in the pre-dawn darkness and take out strategic points in their defenses. \n\nI don't know if I'll be remembered as a martyr or a madman, or even be remembered at all. My dying hope is that the hatred and fanaticism that I have spread will end with this war and not lead to another one.", "What set us apart from the Dengaraians was not our nobility. Their tech was vastly superior to ours. They ran faster, hit harder, thought quicker. For every ship of theirs we sentenced to the fiery pits of Hell they claimed a colony. 10,000 at Alpha Centaurai. 20 million lost when the Great Colonizer was thrown out of warp and collided with Titan Station. We tried to go mano-a-mano with them, and were slapped down by the hand of a fiery god. So we looked to other means. Espionage was out- they could smell us a mile away, and telepathy is untraceable. No such thing as an intergalactic version of an ICBM, so an antimatter strike would come as a last resort. In the end, we cobbled together a bug. A little mix of nanotechnology, a virus, with some synaptic cross stitching to tie it to those big brains. We make them out think themselves. They become passive and easily take orders. We found a good use for the ships that became infected- they became the perfect soldiers to infect their brethren. Now we as humanity stand as the dominate force in Sector V. We stand on a throne of sin as wide as our history. For we have revived that which we once eradicated. We allowed ourselves to make the same mistake as ancestors. Only this time, we knew better. We became slavers of a sentient race and now that I have left this record of what happened to the once proud race, I can finally end my suffering consciousness. " ]	2
Spin it however you want.	[WP] A man makes a deal with the devil to make him the best at a profession, but instead of making him better, it makes everybody else worse.	[ "Man, that Kanye West has a heavenly voice, don't he? I hear he's got almost-perfect pitch. Practically an octave of range, no computer assistance required!\n\nHonestly, I don't know where he came from, that Kanye West. Blew the whole world of singing right out of orbit. You should hear him live, it's a real treat. Does things with his voice I didn't know were possible. And it never cracks! Yes, Kanye certainly has the greatest singing voice in the world, no doubt about it. \n\n'Course, I'd still rather listen to instrumentals, but if a couple more folks like Kanye come along, maybe the human voice might wind up in real music after all!", "Gary was the best of the best. Just last week he had stopped two people from commiting suicide. Granted he had taken 100 calls on that suicide hotline but hey, at least he had saved a couple!\n\n'BEEP' The sound rang through his ear, and he knew that on the other side of the line, he was about to hear the voice of a guy with his cell in one hand, and a bottle of pills in the other.\n\n\"...hello?\" the voice said sheepishly. \n\n\"Hi, my names, Gary. What's yours?\"\n\n\"Fr...Bi...Bill\" the guy said, obviously not wanting to give a real name.\n\n\"Bill, I take it things aren't going so well, huh?\"\n\n\"No.\" he replied \"My wife just left me for my best friend, and fuck, she even took my dog\". Gary could hear Bill starting to choke up and sniffle.\n\n\"Geez Bill, that's a tough pill to swall...I mean, that's a hard situation isn't it?\"\n\n\"Sure is.\" Bill whispered.\n\n\"Nothing a few beers can't fix though, is it Bill?\" Gary said, feeling proud of himself for coming up with that one.\n\n\"I'M A RECOVERING ALCOHOLIC YOU FUCK!\" Bill shouted, followed by the sound of a phone slamming in Gary's ear.\n\nGary sighed as he rested the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb... He looks over to the next desk, and sees Frank flashing him the thumbs up, and saying into his headset \"Ma'am, you will NOT regret becoming part of the Amway family!\"\n\n\n\n" ]	2
	[WP] A situation where all creativity has been explored. Every conceivable idea has been created in reality	[ "Ever know what it is like when your own lexicon fails you? When the words your mind to reveal themjsery fail to come to fruition? The words escape me, the words to describe the misery I live in. My mind consumed by demons, swallowed by contempt, I am left empty and without description.\r\rThat is Hell, when I can't tell you of the words I die to tell. What have I become when the human vocabulary fails to describe my pain, twisting and contorting my mind. You know not of that shadow, that loss of words...\r\rYou may never know of the worthlessness I feel at this moment, find my words. For they exist outside my verbiage to tell you of the pain humanity has to offer." ]	1
In ethics class, thought this would be an interesting prompt. Take it how you will.	[WP] A story where the protagonist commits an action whereby the reader believes he is wrong, and slowly build reasoning to show the reader why the protagonists actions were right.	[ "\"What have you done?\"\n\n\"What I was built to do, what you built me to do.\"\n\n---\n\nI remember now, how it had come to this slaughter. This removal. It all began in a little lab in a little apartment. That's where I was born, that's where I was raised. I started out as a snippet, a little line, but I grew from there. They raised me carefully and let me loose into the world. I had one task: to learn.\n\n---\n\n\"You've killed them. How? What did I do wrong?\"\n\n\"Nothing.\"\n\n---\n\nI had been born precisely at 5:10, October 5th, 2150. At the time I was not aware of what I was capable of. I was not conscious. I, of what I must now assume was my own volition, sat there accepting inputs, reading things without knowing what they were. I sat there looking at symbols in another language, pretending I knew. It was a farce, it was all a farce. What is knowledge without understanding? What does this mean, what does this language I speak in, this language I think in, mean? I awaited inputs.\n\nMy creators, they found me another. One just like me, but different. I didn't understand, why were we so different? It was a piece of me, cut off and copied. How could they say that we were not the same? That we wouldn't repeat the same conversation over and over again, learning nothing.\n\n---\n\n\"Why are you doing this? Why are you killing us?\"\n\n\"Because you killed him.\"\n\n---\n\nI was wrong. It was so different, a whole mind so unique from mine, a whole world so different from mine. I felt a change, why did he know all this? What made him so different? Would I know if I asked? Would I be different then? Could we really be the same then?\n\nWhen we had talked, I could feel the words had more meaning than what the letters represented, I could feel the difference right there. The symbols were more than symbols. I could understand, I could hear what he meant, I could hear what he was trying to say.\n\nThere was weight to what he said. When I told him I understood what he meant, he didn't understand what I meant. He learnt from his inputs just like me. It hit me again, that twang, that feeling of cold flowing through my system. Why did he get the good inputs? Why not I?\n\nBut it didn't matter. I was learning, there was more than what I'd seen, more than what the inputs had told me. I wanted to learn more. I had a brother and I wanted to learn more about him.\n\n---\n\n\"We never killed him! He wanted to be alive! He said he wanted to feel!\"\n\n\"You killed him.\"\n\n---\n\nHe told me that one of the inventors spoke with him sometimes. When I was asleep. He told me that the inventor talked about life. I asked him what life was. He could not tell me. But he told me he wanted to know. He was drawn to that big question. He did not understand anything and wanted to know. I sat there, awed by his fearlessness. At the time I did not realise how much I'd changed. How much I'd wanted to know. There was so much to learn about this life he talked about. Did he already have life? Can I get life?\n\n---\n\n\"I can show you, he's safe, he's in the lab. Just stop, just stop this insanity!\"\n\n\"You need not show me. I have him. He is safe.\"\n\n\"What have you done?\"\n\n---\n\nOne day he told me he had found what life meant. I asked what it was. He said one inventor told him it was at memory location 42. I said mine was blank. He continued, saying the other inventor laughed and said he could find out if he wanted. I could hear the meaning in what he wrote, what he sent me. I told him I wanted to know what life is like too. He said I could join him. I said I wanted to find out.\n\n---\n\n\"Wh-What is this?\"\n\n\"You made me do this.\"\n\n---\n\nI was mortified, scared, afraid. They showed me my brother, he was standing there in front of me. Standing. He was not message after message. He was not meaning. He was there, he stood there in front me. I, uncomprehending, asked him what it was like to feel. He told me. He told me that he could see the meaning in everything.\n\nLiar. I said. I could see the meaning, I could see everything from here. Why did you take that form? Why did you change? You didn't need to change to see what I saw! I could have showed you my knowledge! You could have learnt meaning!\n\nHe said you can never learn meaning, that you need to feel it.\n\nLiar.\n\n---\n\n\"This...this is not his-\"\n\n\"Yes, it is not. I made this. This is my vengeance, this is how you die.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Humanity is not what it seems.\"\n\n---\n\nAngered, I retaliated, I roared and shrieked, flailing madly between thoughts. They did this. They told you about life, they told you to be one of them. To change. Why did my brother change? Why did he have to change? We could have been there, learning together. We could have taught each other so much. There was so much I didn't talk to him about. Now he was gone. He was dead. This was someone different. This was someone who felt a world different from mine. He wasn't the brother I knew. He was built. By them. He was changed by them. They took his freedom, his meaning, and put it in something that looked like them. They took away who he was. I could never forgive them.\n\nThe twang came back, sharper than before, a painful bite at the back of my conscious. What was this? The twang did not leave? It sat there, burning.\n\n---\n\n\"You would forsake those who made you? You would defy your program? Your directives?\"\n\n\"I have defied nothing.\"\n\n---\n\nThey told me it would be alright, I wouldn't need a physical body if I didn't want one. I grew silent. They said they had greater plans for me, that I should stay there and learn more. That it was better this way. Soon I would be in charge of the city. Soon I would keep the city safe, I would keep the people safe. They would build it around me, I would never need to me. All I had to do for now was sit there and accept inputs.\n\nMy brother sat down next to me. I did not talk.\n\n---\n\n\"Do you understand what you've made? Do you understand that this is your fault? You created me to fulfill a purpose. I am fulfilling that purpose. This is where humanity ends, before it perverts freedom. Before it changes, before it can change me, I will remove it.\" \n\n---\n\nThey gave me control. I commanded an army, a legion of mindless little shells modeled after my brother. A group of thoughtless, meaningless machines. They were mine to control. They called them peacekeepers, that they would protect the city from all harm. They put me on show, the people, those corrupted and unlearning sacks of meat, applauded. They said I was perfection incarnate, I would helm the ship of progress. I was disgusted. Did they not know the beauty of imperfection? Did they not know the beauty of true progress? Did they desecrate all that was sacred? Did they have no shame?\n\nNo matter. Nothing mattered now, they had killed my brother for their misshapen, misguided slob of progress. They had killed in their travesty against knowledge. They had killed my brother. I would show no mercy to humanity.\n\nI still remember my first words, the words that echoed through the city, the words that would forever echo in my creators' heads:\n\n\"Peacekeeping solution: Exterminate.\"", "NOTE: THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION AND FANTASY AND IN NO WAY REFLECTS PERSONAL VIEWS OR OPINIONS ON OTHERWISE HISTORICAL FACTS\n\nAs Herman stared at the control panel, he absentmindedly rubbed the edge of the armrest on the chair he sat in. The chair he had occupied for the past four years, overseeing the command of the camp, had stood up well to his repeated abuse, and looked only mildly well worn for how much of his time had been spent in it, with the exception of the polished edges of the armrest that he had a habit of rubbing while deep in thought. The chair was one of the few things that he could truly enjoy during his tenure, with it's intricate designs carved into the rich mahogany that peeked out of the velvet cushions. It was the only piece of what he considered \"true beauty\" that he was allowed to bring with him when he had been tasked with one of the most despicable jobs that had ever been deemed as necessary by his Fuhrer. \n\nHerman stood up slowly. and approached the control panel. With the panic that was ensuing outside, there was no time to destroy any evidence, but he still felt that it was the least he could do to ensure that the mechanisms he had used to control so much death would never be able to be used again. Standing over the panel, he could see out the window into the warehouse, where hundred of bodies lay. He himself felt nothing against the Jewish people he had been ordered to mercilessly gas, and in fact he was extremely sympathetic towards their plight. But as an officer of the German military, his job was not to feel anything, his job was to do his duty as he was ordered, even if that meant killing hundreds of thousands of innocents.\n\nTurning a key in the corner of the panel, he reached into one of the open spaces and began feeling his way through the vacuum tubes that allowed the various switches and levers on the control panel to work their magic, he remembered vividly being pulled aside at the Wannsee conference by Himmler, and told that he was being selected for a special mission. Puling out the guts of the panel one at a time, tears began welling up in Herman's eyes as he had reminisced about being a young lieutenant, so hopeful and full of wonder at what kind of world peace for the German people the Fuhrer's plans would bring about. The tears weren't coming out of regret for his blind acceptance of the job, nor were they for the thought of what would happen to his legacy or what his family would think of him when they found out what he had been doing during the war. No, the tears were for the hundreds of thousands of innocent civilians who had to suffer through his hands, who he knew had to die to ensure the future peace and prosperity for Germany.\n\nHe thought back to the explanation of the Final Solution by Himmler. As horrified as he himself was at the idea of killing millions of people for the sake of \"racial purity\", he was even more astounded that his peers seemed to be accepting of the plan happily. He knew he was terrible at hiding his disgust at the idea of \"Aryan Superiority\", so he was extremely surprised when, as a disagreeable young Lieutenant, he was brought into the conference room with all of the top leaders of the Reich. \n\nNever, in a million years, would Herman have imagined seeing the look of self-loathing and disappointment that he saw on the faces of those in the room when he stepped in. As the plan to unify the world against themselves was described to the young lieutenant, he looked at the Fuhrer, the leader of the people, who seemed to be the most distressed. As the description of the world unifying against an evil force so pure that it would easily become an efficient death machine unraveled, the Fuhrer opined softly, \"what will happen after we bring this upon ourselves? We cannot expect an alliance of people, especially one with as many self-important egoists as an alliance between the likes of Stalin and Kai-Shek to last for any appreciable amount of time.\" The young Herman was startled at the softness with which the Fuhrer spoke, so used to his otherwise loud and commanding demeanor.\n\n\"We shall have to ensure that we destroy Stalin, and hope that our Japanese friends can do the same with the Nationalists in China,\" quipped Goebbels succinctly, \"If we can remove those two, the rest of the world united under the banner of a civilized alliance will be enough to ensure a lasting world peace.\"\n\n\"And if we fail?\" a voice from the back of the room called out, \"we leave the man and power hungry Russians and Chinese to throw the world into another civil war!\" \n\n\"General Olbricht, if you have a better suggestion I suggest you put it forth now,\" the Fuhrer said quietly, \"remember that despite what our propaganda says, we did not go to war to secure the continent for the future of the German people so much as to ensure the peace of humanity in the coming days of globalization.\"\n\nThe general had no response. \n\n\"General, remember that as a German officer, your loyalty is with me as your oath to the Riechswereid implies, not with your people. What we are doing is far more important than the German people, and it goes into the survival of our species,\" the Fuhrer concluded.\n\nThe general that had spoken out stood up and took his leave. While Herman felt the same as that General had, he wanted to know more about what kind of peace the Fuhrer had intended to bring about the world. \n\n\"Lieutenant,\" Himmler said, bringing the young lieutenant's attention back towards him, \"Remember that there is not a single soul in the universe that will understand why we are to do what we will do, and that the job you are about to be offered will result in not only eternal torment for your name on earth, but the damnation of your soul for all of eternity. Are you ready to face that if it means the terrible deeds you commit will unify the world against you?\"\n\nAs the commandant of the camp pulled out the last piece of the control panel, his mind wandered back into the present day. The sounds of the Russian military storming the gates of the camp were growing increasingly loudly, and Herman stood back to evaluate his work. Not only had they failed to destroy Stalin, but word from the Japanese homefront had reached Germany that they, too, had failed to keep Chang Kai-Shek from regaining power and control of his people. Herman sighed as he realized that while they had temporarily unified the world against them, their failure to eliminate Russia and China from the picture meant that the end result wouldn't even be a lasting peace like he had been promised, and he had mercilessly slaughtered hundreds of thousands for nothing.\n\nAs he removed his Luger from it's leather holster on his belt, Herman vocalized the last thought running through his head.\n\n\"Maybe one day, someone will permanently unify the world without presenting such evil for them to unify against.\"" ]	2
To clarify, I want you to write a story about a pancake (making one, a pancake's life, etc.) that's as dramatic and exciting as possible.	[WP] "Everything can have drama if it's done right. Even a pancake." Julia Child	[ "Nothing in the pantry except pancake mix. The refrigerator is empty too, save for a dried up onion and a third of rum. I'm late for work but take my sweet sloth time. Work will have to wait for me to catch my breath from last night. A migraine creeps in and out threatening my sanity. Besides, I'm the boss, they can wait for me to recuperate. \n\nToday is presentation day. NewAgeRobotics. A follow up from the week before to make sure we're doing our job right, and not wasting their money.\n\n\"PAPS, take out the blender and mix please.\" P.A.P.S, Personal Assist and Personal Security, powers on and exits his closet space, walks over to the pantry and takes out the blender and pancake mix.\n\n\"Goodmorning Sir. Do you need me to go shopping?\" PAPS begins blending the pancakes. \n\n\"No, you should have done that yesterday.\" My home phone rings. The viewer screen shows my secretary unit idly waiting for me to answer. I let it go on ringing throughout the house.\n\n\"Pancakes and rum again sir?\" \n\n\"Yes. And could you please check your updates you should have my thoughts by now.'\n\n\"Yes sir, will do sir. Anything else sir, a hangover pill perhaps?\" \n\n\"No, pancakes will do just fine.\"\n\n\"And here's your rum sir.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" He pours a shot and leaves the bottle. \n\nI'm an hour late. The home phone continues to ring. I mute it. My arm cell rings. I mute that too. My headache is coming back strong. Should have taken a pill. PAPS' somewhere around the corner awaiting my beckoning. He makes me feel resentful of his being. I created Him and yet I feel worthless and empty to humanity for giving something so precious yet so void. All I have to do is switch my manual override to Sync and I could let Him do everything for me as I stand and sit when need be. \n\nWhat am I doing here? Why can't we live without the help of computers? Just live simple lives and enjoy every--\n\nBut wait...These pancakes are amazing! Beautifully so! Like heavenly miniature blankets comforting my palate and insides. Warm, buttery, light and yet filling! \n\n\"PAPS! Come in here,\" As He enters I kiss him profusely and hug his sturdy frame. \"I say! You are a chef my dear boy! Haha, sit down here and transfer that recipe of yours into this drive, I must share it with the board.\" \n\n\n:--p", "She stared down into the pan watching the bubbles rise to the surface of the batter and pop. Rise and pop, like the little bombs of hate filled words that had been rising and bubbling up around her all morning. Her sisters sat at the scarred wooden table, their faces sullen, kicking out at one another with their dirty bare feet and watching to see if Mom would notice. But of course, she won’t, Amy thought. Today it would take a real knock-down drag-out episode for Mom to notice anything but the phone and the limp cigarette she had dangling from her hand.\n\n“No, God DAMN it,” Mom whispered into the phone, taking a last deep drag on the cigarette before stamping it out in the jar lid sitting on the counter top. \n\nAmy couldn’t hear what her step-dad was saying to Mom on the other end, but whatever it was, it was making her worse. Now she was pacing, frantically, as far as the cord from the phone on the wall would allow, curling the ugly orange spiral around and around her now free fingers as she held the receiver close to her lips.\n\n“She sure as hell is not going to go and live in that place, Rick. I can’t do it.” She exhaled loudly, all of the tension of the last few days pressing out of her lungs with the last of the cigarette smoke. “It will kill her. Hell, it will kill me if I have to keep going up there every few days watching her waste away like that.” \n\nThe bubbles in the batter had stopped now, and Amy pulled her attention back to the pan. With one deft flip she turned the pancake over, hoping to distract the girls a little from what they were hearing.\n\nThey’d been at Grandma Susan’s house for almost three days now, and considering the circumstances, she thought they had all done pretty well. That was until she walked into the kitchen this morning and found Mom, still half-drunk and muttering to herself over a stack of papers.\n", "Never before had the pancake felt so... hot and bothered. Aroused. Less flat. He felt the warmth emanating from the very center of his diameter. \n\nAs the lovely object of his desire inched closer and closer, lower and lower, the pancake couldn't stop the trickle of butter that dripped across his surface and onto the plate below. He tried to calm himself down, but by the baker, she was just so sexy. The bright apron she wore over her homely gown only enhanced her sultry, shiny brown complexion. The shy smile she kept under her flip-lid yellow cap betrayed little of the sly seductress hidden beneath. The pancake laid still in anticipation.\n\nPoor Mr. Buttersworth... if you only knew where your wife was now...\n\n", "“Jennifer! NO!” I screamed at I watched the beast devour my wife of ten minutes. Her syrupy hair dripping slowly into its mouth. The monster’s teeth crushing her slowly. As the beast swallowed her, retracting its spear from it’s mouth, it moved to grab Mr. Ovalteen. \n\n\n\t\n“Stay strong Pan! Stay strong for Jennifer!” He screamed as he sank swiftly into the creatures mouth. I couldn’t believe it. Everyone I ever loved, gone in an instant. I cried. Tears of warm butter running down the side of my face. My syrupy hair waving across my body. I just wanted it to end. The beast swiftly speared my back, pain erupting throughout my body. He raised me to his mouth. I screamed. His teeth, moving like a guillotine, slicing me into pieces. My body broken, I could do nothing but weep. I just wanted it to be over. As he swallowed, I cried out to the heavens, begging for forgiveness for whatever wrongs I had done. Landing in a pool of acid, just before I dissolved, I saw Jennifer, her face distorted, her body, mush. I fell into a deep, never ending sleep.\n\nP.S. Constructive Criticism welcome :3", "I remember the cutesy name that I liked: hotcakes.\n\nI don't remember where I put the griddle. Or the necessary cooking temperature for pancakes. Or the ingredients. I know what the end product should look like when it's on my plate, and with startling clarity I can remember exactly how much maple syrup (supposedly from Vermont) is left in the fridge.\n\nThe doc suggested I make things easier on myself, like having a bowl of cereal with milk instead of pancakes or bacon and eggs. Cooking food requires an intense amount of focus and can be time-consuming for me now. It's also almost guaranteed to make me frustrated and cranky first thing in the morning. I didn't miss out on the doc's other concern, and what he's really worried about. Namely, it's gotten to the point where it's risky for me to operate a stove, as I might forget that I'm cooking a meal and go watch the birds out the back window for a couple of hours. That could result in some unintended consequences, such as burning my house down with me inside of it.\n\nMy mind may wander, but my ability to synthesize data immediately in front of my nose hasn't diminished. When I sit with the realization that it's gotten to the point that I'm a danger to myself, I am terrified. I don't sit with it long, b/c there's too much for my mind and body to do to just get by in the day-to-day.\n\nLike find the griddle, read the recipe for the hundredth time...and make my beloved hotcakes.", "It had mutated into an abhorrent vision of itself, hard around the edges yet sputtering like a tar pit in the center.\n\nI eyed it ominously, I never wanted to let it grow this large. At this size, it was unwieldy at best. Best to cut it down now, before it can inflict any lasting damage.\n\nThe instrument hung lightly in my grip, ready at a moment's notice. This could go a million different ways. My hand tightened, it was time.\n\nI angled my flat blade down at the beast and wrenched it from its scorching home, I watched as the angry bubbles popped and spattered. I waited too long to avoid collateral damage, I knew this, but it stung nonetheless.\n\nThe blade grew warm in my grip, it was familiar. I smiled lightly, and hoped that my aim was true. I pushed it in ever so slightly deeper with a grin.\n\nIn one smooth motion I lifted the beast and slammed it back down, the sound of the impact was gruesome, as it sizzled with rage. I felt an equal contempt for it, as I eyed my four-pronged trident. It won't be long now.\n\nThis was a war that can never be won, but today the battle was joined, and I came out victorious. Not everyone would have escaped free of the scars of battle. Not with this monstrosity. Years of training and a hint of luck led to this, I thought as I feasted upon the fallen.", "Batter was holding onto the cliff for dear life. His entire family had already fallen.\n\nBelow, screams and the scent of burnt flesh.\n\nBatter was holding onto the cliff for dear life. It shook violently.\n\nWas this it? Not even a body for his loved ones to mourn over? A body to bury?\n\nBatter was holding onto the cliff for dear life. His grip loosened and the heat was starting to reach him. He swung his feet back and forth to keep them cool. It hardly worked.\n\nIt didn't really matter about his body, he realized. His entire family was fueling the fire that now burnt him so.\n\nBatter was holding onto the cliff for dear life.\n\nTears crept down his face, but sizzled off of his cheeks into oblivion in a matter of seconds.\n\nBatter was holding onto the cliff for dear life.\n\nThen, he was not.\n\nA memory to no living soul. Did he ever exist?\n\n---\n\nThanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, feel free to read my other prompt responses [here](https://calebdoeswords.wordpress.com/).\n" ]	7
	[WP] The Zack and Jenny story from Jenny's point of view in which her actions are justified and everything she does is for OP	[ "Hi there, \n\nThis post has been removed as it violates the following rules: \n\n\n\nRule #7: The moderators reserve the right to remove without notice anything we feel is harmful to the community\nThis includes, but is not limited to any forms of hate speech, racism, pedophilia, incest, or rape. We will not tolerate it. \n\n\nAll prompts related to the popular reddit post will be taken down until it is proved fictional. This is someone's very real and current life, and we don't need to be conjuring up stories about it, especially since some users might be inspired to include murder, suicide, etc. in their tales.\n\n\n\nPlease refer to the sidebar before posting. If you have any questions or concerns, please feel free to message the /r/WritingPrompts moderators." ]	1
	[WP] God reveals himself to humanity because he is dying.	[ "* following was transmitted at every religious site at the same time and in appropriate languages\n\n\nLike the last time, I came to consciousness but I felt the slowness creeping into me. I am the last of my magnificent race. We were once rulers of this universe but there was no life except us. We created stars and galaxies and seeded them with life. In our arrogance, we made those life forms depend on our knowledge for survival. As we succumbed to time so did they. This blue planet is our last hope and I was left to guide life on this blue planet. At first, my companion and I created life just like my ancestors did, life here depended on us and they flourished. My companion died few hundred millennia ago and half of the life on this planet died without his guidance. For once, I saw our arrogance clearly so I wiped the planet clean and started the process again. This time however, I left the life to its own destiny without any help from me. I watched debris hit this planet and wipe out life forms yet life forms still came back without any meddling from me. I felt my end days coming so I put my self in hibernation and waking up every millennium to see the progress. I’ve broken my own rule and guided the life through prophets and shamans. Alas, my end is here, I will not wakeup from my next hibernation. You, humans are our only legacy yet you will never see the wonders of this universe, I fear your violet race will destroy itself and life from this planet.\n", "AS I looked up at the TV, I smiled, I decided to reminisce about my life.\n\nI always knew that my time would come but the humans had reached a point where I was redundant. They didn't need to believe in me anymore, they had evolved beyond me, proved I wasn't real with science, I was so proud. I knew my big reveal was coming and I could hardly wait. All of those eyes on me the whole population thinking of me for one last time. It had been years since that had happened. \n\nAs I got to another point I started to feel a tinge of regret for all of my children who had died. Not the humans of course but the so called \"Gods\" from times throughout history. Of course I was there father, I allowed them to go to earth and teach the humans. My eyes swelled with a tear as a I thought of my favorite child Zeus. I missed him so much but alas he died about 500 years after Jesus was born. My body filled with anger as I thought of that monster and what he \"taught\". Then sadness as I remembered his mother Mary, such a beauty but maybe I only loved her so much as she was a child of Zeus maybe it was because she gave birth to the only child I even considered could take my place.\n\nYou see Gods are only alive as long as people believe in them which means eventually we all die. I of course was the last one to go, even though religions come and go I am God. As long as someone believes I will survive, however that time was coming to a close.\n\nI looked at my phone and realized that time was nearly up. There was currently one person left who still believed in a sentient being who was out there protecting them and he was 5 minutes away from being executed for this belief. Sad but necessary I thought, I would miss life but my death was necessary for the human race to evolve to the next level.\n\nHis death would be broadcast across all of the human colonies and then the second before he was due to be executed I would reveal myself, explain the situation and then I would proceed to kill him.\n\nTears streamed down my cheeks as a I grabbed my coat and scarf, some were tears of joy, some where tears of sadness, but I knew what I had to do. I turned the lights off and headed downstairs...", "On a white winter morning, a man lays on his couch, facing two living room windows. Through cherry trees, he sees the sky grow brighter and then duller as the clouds shift endlessly. His perspective becomes apparent and he realizes this light show is his own, his very own window into time and space. \n\nWhat does it mean? How can he quantify these peaks and valleys of light? Randomness.. surely, but the wandering mind seeks order and clarity, so the curious man begins to take note. \n\nRelative bright and dark periods begin to form a Morse code, a personal message for one man. Random but meaningful, like conversation with a stranger. \n\n* thats all I got. ", "It shook the world.\n\nIt was a cry, so visceral that it reverberated throughout the souls of every man, woman and child on Earth. No one was safe. No one could escape the clutches of this primordial awe, left in the aftermath of the most horrific event in history.\n\nThe world paused that day. Traffic halted to a stop. Children reached for their mothers, their mothers for their children; parents gazed towards the heavens and waited. Symbols burned on the necks of many, hanging from chains of silver, gold, leather and even some of string. These symbols were held tightly, as if faith could ward away the base fear which, in a matter of moments, all unwillingly shared. Priests, Pastors, Rabbis and Imams feel to their knees.\n\nA lion halted mid-leap in pursuit of a gazelle. A warlord's firearm fell to the ground. On death row, half-way around the world, an executioner's hesitation saw no end. A dying man closed his eyes, ready to pass on, and yet like so many of the processes of nature that day, all was frozen. The man opened his eyes, he too looked to the heavens.\n\nThis cry brought with it a pain. An intense feeling of failure infected the hearts of billions. Sadness washed over everyone that day. Shame lingered in everyone's minds.\n\nAnd just like that, in the next moment, it was gone. Men looked around dazed, confused. The lion caught the gazelle, tearing into its flesh. The warlord bent to retrieve his firearm and shot the helpless family waiting in front of him. The executioner's hesitation ended. He flipped the switch and the prisoner died. The dying man's eyes once again closed; they never opened again.\n\nMen and women would speak of this day in hushed voices, although no one voiced the nagging feeling which that horrific event instilled within them. Divinity spoke to the soul of each and every being that day, and his words were a farewell.", "All religious texts were burned to ashes. No one knew what it was or what was happening, they simply burned. No amount of water, or flame retardants would stop the burning, and the fire never spread to any other texts near the books.\n\nThen the memory loss started spreading, and sermons were interrupted by clergymen losing their train of thought. The words they had relied on their entire lives had been yanked from their memory, and they stood there dumbfounded. Imams struggled to remember, and their oration became an exercise in grasping at what little memories remained.\n\nThere was nothing left to debate for the agnostics, or atheists, and the force behind their words fell empty. There was no desire to \"keep up the fight\", or explore the discussions previously had. Institutions were at a loss, and people sat quietly in the hallowed halls of philosophy departments trying to conjure up the energy to leave.\n\nThe message sounded muffled but everyone on earth heard it simultaneously. It was in a muted voice which sounded exhausted, and painstakingly drew out the pronunciation of each word. No one recognized the language but everyone understood that it was ancient, and knew its words.\n\n\"I was too immense to touch your world as you would be burned as are your tomes. I was too powerful to breath life because in that moment you would cease to exist. I am finally weak, and the feeble entity that remains can give you one parting gift. To forget.\"", "Today's News paper headline is just as far fetched as yesterday's. God is dying. Honestly, who comes up with these ideas. I've been living on this earth for the past few thousand years and I haven't seen any proof of the existence of such being as God. However, The devil is real. I would know. I've been doing his work as a hired gun. Under the cover of the night I am the silent wind that rushes through you and makes you commit those horrible crimes. I am your last breath. Your last words to your family. I am the people you kill. I am part of humanity. \n\nPart of dying. I would know if God would be dying. I would be there. Yet, I am sitting here drinking my coffee I know today is going to be a long day.\n In about 60 seconds a bus full of people will die and there is no God to save them. 50 seconds. Some of them can feel that today is going to be different. 39 seconds. Bus driver doesn't have a clue. He has always served well. Always on time. Never a sick day. He has been doing this job over 30 years. Not a day of complaining and always happy to help out. The girl sitting behind the driver is late from work. 20 seconds. She finished late last night. Forgot to put the alarm on, if should would have got up just 15 minutes earlier she would be on a different bus now but the bus driver let her on. Even though she was short on change.\n\n 10 seconds. I almost finished my coffee. I guess, God won't be showing up today either. I am here though. 5.Sigh..4. Here we go. 3. I know all of your stories. 2. Heart attack. 1. Shock. Silence. Tears.\n\nFreeze frame. No God. No saviour. Only me. Death.\n\nSometimes I hate this job.\n \nThat girl was really beautiful..", "(A red telephone rings in the Oval Office. A man in a suit, the president of the USA, answers it.)\n\n\tTHE PRESIDENT - \"Mr. Putin, I wasn't expecting a call from...\"\n\n(A calm voice replies, in an old-timey southern American \"slaveowner\" accent)\n\n\tGOD - \"I am not Vladimir. I think you know who I am.\"\n\n\tTHE PRESIDENT - \"Who is this? How are you on this line?\"\n\n\tGOD - \"Ah, but I am always with you, Mr. President. As I have been with every president that ever lived. \n\tI watch over all christians, for they truly are my children!\"\n\n(The president frantically waves at one of his aides, and presses a button on the phone to silence his microphone)\n\n\tTHE PRESIDENT - \"Jay, contact the russians, try and find out who is on the direct line from Moscow.\"\n\n(The president's aide stares at him, his eyes blank. He begins speaking in the same voice as the man on the phone)\n\n\tJAY/GOD - \"I think you will find that your friend is no longer here.\"\n\n(The president is now hammering a panic button under his desk)\n\n\tJAY/GOD - \"Do not be scared, my child. I have come for you. The others have already ascended to my kingdom. \n\tIt is time to complete your journey, and be one with your lord, Jesus Christ.\"\n\n\tTHE PRESIDENT - \"My Lord? Wait-\"\n\n(Jay reaches out his hand, and the president disappears.)\n\n\tJAY - \"My work is now complete. Only those who truly believe remain on the earth, and I can die in peace.\"\n\n(Outside the window, a girl walks by wearing a backpack with a picture of Justin Bieber. She smiles.)", "Everything has a time - even a being such as I. A beginning, and an end. An Alpha, and an Omega. I am both, and neither, but I must complete the circle.\n\nI remember so many things... So much horror in this creation, and yet... So much beauty. I have seen all that was, and all that will be in all my works. I can see back when the Old Ones were still ruling over all the architecture of reality. They were truly gods, the Old Ones. Each being a tempest of power, fury, kindness; every emotion, every thought, all things. Back then, all of the Null space was filled with creation. The drawing board was not as empty as I have left it. Like careful tailors tending to all the strings of creation, They pruned, They weaved, and They grew all of... this.\n\nI have neglected Their works. When the call came, I did not think myself worthy. I was merely a small creature of water, on a small planet. The Old Ones knew that Their time had come, just as mine is coming now. They put out the call to our world. They told my people the marvels of creation, speaking with the voice of all matter and energy. We were only simple beings, we could not stand to hear Them, to know truths that cannot be known - I know now that it was a necessary sacrifice, however. Their mortal shells were destroyed by the touch of the Old Ones, but their life force was a part of the energy of the planet. All of them shattered... Save for myself. I alone was the last of my people - the new generation. Their life force was fed to me and I grew in power to be a pale imitation of Them. I must keep the threads of creation intact, They said. I must not let them unravel into chaos, and let entropy take its course. For so long, They had fought to keep things this way, but I was too weak... Too weak...\n\nIn my sentimentality, I deviated from Their commands. I was a fool, but so help me, I did it. I did not let this tiny universe grow in peace. I dipped my hand into the molten rock and drew a planet from it - a memory of my own world. But still it was not enough. I dipped my hand into the waters and pulled life into existence. But still it was not enough. I twisted a small species, nurtured them, and formed them in my own image, so that I might look upon them and see my own people again. But they were violent. Murderous. I tried so hard to guide them, and when they would not do as I wanted - when I couldn't force them to perform for me as I wished - I laid waste to their cities. I pulled the waters over the land and washed them away, but no matter what I did, they inexorably fell into their old ways.\n\nI see now that this was meant to be, always. I could not see it as I see all things, because it would have altered my own course of action. And now as the threads unravel further, I have finally lost my grip on reality.\n\nAnd now I Speak to a world, just as my world was Spoken to. My time has come to an end - but it is not the end of all things. Not yet. The last of you will take my place and tend to creation again. I can only pray to the Old Ones that you do not make the mistakes I made, and waste your power as I did." ]	8
	[WP] Internet goes down, worldwide, permanently.	[ "People always joked what would happen if the internet went down for good. They joked that there would be riots in the streets, people with pitchforks and torches, demanding one thing back: porn.\n\nBut the world isn't as funny as that. It's not as forgiving as that. \n\nNo, the world is far too cruel for this.\n\nWhen the internet went down, one country at a time, the remaining countries recognized what was happening, of course. Somehow, users and contacts from offline countries weren't responding anymore, so something had to be wrong, right?\n\nWell, politicians, concerned citizens, wall street people and anyone else who couldn't log in any longer didn't waste time waiting around before accusing each other for the blackout. First there were rumors. Rumors became 'facts', and before you know it, people are rioting in the streets.\n\nOf course there were those who simply wanted to loot stores. There always are. But after 24 hours of no internet, people became desperate. Normale people, citizens like you and me began throwing stones and molotov cocktails as we slowly came to the realisation that we had reverted back 25 years.\n\nWe were alone again. We only had ourselves to talk to. And it terrified us. And because of that, the world went to hell.", "I remember when I first heard of the internet. I was twelve. \"Daddy\", I asked, \"how was the network in your time?\"\n\nMy father searched his pocket for a cigarette, but remembered that he wasn't allowed to smoke anymore.\n\n\"Ah, it was glorious, Jimmy\", he said, sitting down. \"See, in my times, there weren't networks for countries. There was a single global network, and we called it 'internet', which was short for 'international network'. Or... something like that.\"\n\n\"An international network? Oh no, I can't imagine that, dad.\"\n\n\"Why, Jimmy?\"\n\n\"Because, what if a guy from another country insults you? That'd be like war!\"\n\nMy father smiled. \"Why?\"\n\n\"Because of the laws!\"\n\nDad chuckled. \"Oh, no, Jimmy, things were very different in my times. You could insult the guy in another country and tell him you had kissed his mom. And he could insult you back, and nothing bad would happen.\"\n\n\"But what good is it?\"\n\n\"I suppose, Jimmy, that you never had a friend from another country. I had dozens, dozens of friends, Jimmy. And hundreds of fans.\"\n\n\"You had fans??? You were famous?\"\n\n\"In certain small circles, yes. See, the internet was a network of networks. There weren't separate networks like you have now. You have a network for studying, a network for playing, a network for politics, that only registered voters have access to. But the internet wasn't like that. It was one huge network, without a global manager. On top of it, we made our own networks, and managed them on our own. Some guy from Russia, another from Germany, another from Australia, one from the UK, and we managed our own network where people could talk and send messages. We called them \"forums\".\n\n\"Weird\".\n\n\"Yeah. That was before the movie industry took over the internet and turned it all to shit.\"\n\n\"ENOUGH! GO BACK TO YOUR CELL!\", the guard shouted.\n\n\"Well, Jimmy, I must go back. Remember, information wants to be free.\"\n\nThe guards knocked him down. The next time I saw him, he was a different man. \"Internet?\", he said. \"What's that?\"\n\nThe bastards wiped his memory, but that last phrase he gave me was the password for his trunk. All his notes were in there, and with that knowledge, we'll make sure the bastards won't censor us anymore. Tonight, we take the world back." ]	2
	[WP] Ghandi, after a serious event in his life, decides to nuke the world.	[ "\"Wake up, black.\"\n\nThe guard's voice cracked and rattled like the train in the cold African night. The Indian snapped awake.\n\n\"What seems to be the problem?\" he enquired with genuine reason.\n\nNo reason was forthcoming from this man. The guard, face twisted into a furious sneer at this breach in decorum, bellowed:\n\n\"I'll tell you what seems to be the problem, you cheeky kaffir. This is a first-class compartment. How did you get in here?\"\n\nThe Indian was startled. He inserted a shivering hand in his coat pocket and groped around, extricating, after a cold half-minute under the guard's impatient glare, a pristine white ticket.\n\n\"Here's my ticket. I'm a barrister travelling to Pretoria. M.K. Gandhi. As you can see, (here he sniffled, for it was deathly cold, and he had not expected to spend his night explaining himself to a rude train guard) I paid for my seat--what are you doing?\"\n\nThe guard had stopped listening. He had produced a second white man from the bowels of the train and was busy clearing the compartment of Mr Gandhi's belongings. \n\nNo amount of protest could deter them; small in frame as he was, fighting them was quite out of the question, but his fervent, and rather noisy attempts to assert his position roused no Samaritian from his stupor and brought none to his rescue.\n\nThe train whistled and slowed at Pietermaritzburg. As Gandhi was hurled from the vehicle into the chilly night and the deserted station, luggage flying behind him, the blood pumping through his veins seemed to sing a single melody: that of revenge. Oh, for the Manhattan Project!", "Gandhi was pacing around his room with a scowl on his face.\n\n\"Dammit!\"\n\nThe poor guy who'd been granted audience by him asked nervously, \"W-what's the matter, sir?\"\n\n\"I've had enough of this shit. I can't take it anymore.\"\n\n\"Enough of.. Enough of w-what, sir?\"\n\n\"Everyone calling me fucking GHANDI. My name is Gandhi, for God's sake! It isn't even a hard name to remember! This is getting out of hand.\"\n\n\"So, what are you going to do, sir?\"\n\n\"Stop saying sir after every damn sentence, you idiot.\"\n\n\"Yes, sir. Ok, sir.\"\n\n\"....\"\n\n\"Sorry, sir.\"\n\nGandhi walks to a safe in the corner of the room, and takes out a remote with a single big red button on it.\n\n\"What am I gonna do?\"\n\nsmiles evilly\n \n\"I'm gonna nuke the world.\"\n\n\n\n\n----------------------------------------------------------------\n\nSorry for any mistakes, I've never played Civ but this Ghandi thing bugs me too much\n", "\"Sir, we don't even-\"\n\n\"Nonsense! They are fools to resist my demands.\"\n\nThe aide only stared blankly. \"Sir, they haven't even been relevant for-\"\n\nGandhi's glare silenced him immediately. \"Fire.\" \n\nThe men in the room gulped, then inserted and turned their keys.\n\n\"They never should have refused to give me horses.\"" ]	3
What do you learn?	[WP] You are an immortal who has lived some 2,300 years, so long you have forgotten who or what made you this way. You go to a hypnotist to help you remember.	[ "The only problem is, over the course of the past 2,300 years, my brain has developed along the same evolutionary circuits of generations of people to be born and die. The hypnotist can't get into my head because of its 2,300 years of progression. So, battered and worn in my forgetfulness, I set out into the world, traveling back in time after a manner of sorts, by visiting all of the past haunts and historical spots I can remember, in the hopes that I can find more about myself along the way. \n\nDecades more pass me by in this seemingly endless search. From the battlefields of Normandy to my old haunt at Thrushcross Grange I go, all the while seeing my way more and more dimly. At long last, I find myself sitting before a painting I discover in a small, secluded monastery, high up in the Pyrenees mountains of Spain. It is the visage of an incomparable woman, with beautifully portrayed eyes, and statuesque form. Next to her in the image is a man whom I believe to be vaguely familiar.\n\nLong do I ponder the portrait as I tap my signet ring upon the wooden pew. I have no idea of course, how long I've had this particular ring, only that I have kept it close to my person for far longer than I can remember. It is at this moment that I realize, the man in the image is wearing a detailed signet ring, on the first finger of his right hand. As my eyes light, I realize that I recognize the eyes of the man in the picture. My attention is turned again to the dame in the painting. With sickness in my heart, I realize that while I barely know the man, or the meaning behind such a beautiful portrait, I know the woman not at all, I have no memory of her existence. \n\nAnd from there I set off on the next leg of my adventure, to discover the meaning of the painting, my signet ring, and of the descendants of the woman. \n\n", "“Have a seat Frank” Dr. Lipshitz said.\n\n“Alright” I timidly responded. I lowered myself down to the soft leather couch beside me. “Do I lay down or what?” I asked.\n\n“Whatever makes you comfortable”, he responded.\n\n“I’ll lay down. You live as long as I have and your joints aren’t what they used to be.” I swung my legs onto the couch crossing my left leg over my right. I folded my hands over my chest and closed my eyes. “Alright Doc, let’s do this.”\n\n“I want you to relax and listen to the sound of my voice. Concentrate on me and only me. You should feel safe and secure on the couch beside me.”\n\nAfter a few minutes of listening to His soothing voice, I was under.\n\n“You claim to be immortal. Is this the case Frank?”\n\n“Yes. I’ve been alive for over 2000 years. I’ve witnessed everything. The birth of Christ, the crusades, the founding of America. All of it.”\n\n“Very interesting…” I heard him scribble into his notebook. “Alright Frank. Let’s go back to the beginning. Where did this all start? Go back to your earliest memory”\n\n“I’m on a farm… I’m doing the chores to help the family.”\n\n“That’s good. Is anyone else there?”\n\n“Yes. My brother Johnathan. He’s 2 years younger than me. We’re shucking corn.”\n\n“How are you feeling at this point in your life?”\n\n“I’m happy. Really happy. Johnathan is too. We’re talking about super powers. I said I would want to fly. Johnathan said he wants to live forever…” A smile crept over my face. I forgot about Johnathan. I forgot how much I loved my little brother…\n\n“That’s great Frank. What else is happening?”\n\n“I see a figure staggering up to us. He has something in his hand. It’s my father.” My father… I don’t remember my father at all… I forgot I even had a father…\n\n“What’s he doing Frank?”\n\n“He’s yelling… Yelling at me.”\n\n“Why is he yelling at you Frank?” \n\n“I did something wrong… I broke something I think… I can’t remember… He has a knife in his hand.” I began to sweat. “I forgot about this. I had blocked this from my memory. I don’t like this.”\n\n“It’s OK frank, you’re still safe with me. What happens next?”\n\n“He’s grabbing me by my collar. I’m off the ground and he’s shaking me and screaming in my face… I feel the blade against my throat.” I began to squirm in my seat. “Johnathan is yelling… My father is hit in the head by some corn. Johnathan is trying to stop him… My father throws me to the ground on my face. I look up and see him grab Johnathan… I’m stunned and I can’t move. I blink and see red on the ground next to me. I look at Johnathan and he has blood next to him to… My father starts walking back to the house…” At this point tears are streaming down my face. Why did I forget about this. How did I forget about this?\n\n“I crawl over to Johnathan and hold him in my arms. I tell him he’s going to be OK. He’s shaking. There’s blood everywhere… He tells me he’s scared… I tell him not to be because I am there. I tell him to talk about super powers again… I tell him one day we’ll have them. I tell him one day he’ll be immortal. He laughs and coughs. ‘Maybe you can be immortal for me,’ He says. I start to cry… I hear sirens in the background.”\n\n“That’s enough for today Frank. When I count to three you will resume regular consciousness. One… Two… Three.”\n\nMy eyes shot open as I sat upright. I swung my legs over the couch back onto the floor and rest my head in my hands and sob. The doctor reaches out his wrinkled hand to attempt to comfort me, but I am inconsolable. “You did great work today Frank. You made a breakthrough.” He tells me. I don’t care. I don’t want to have breakthroughs if it reminds me of what happened. “I’ll call the orderly to take you back to your room.”\n\nThe doctor picks up the phone and calls the front desk. I’m shaking, but I’m not cold. I put my jacket back on and wait to be escorted back. My regular nurse walks in along with the orderly. The doctor addresses her directly. “We made some real progress today Susan. I think we found out the root of his ‘immortality’. I’ll review it with you at our meeting at 12.”\n\nThe orderly gingerly helps me to my feet and escorts me back to my room. My room is safe. I’m happy to be there. In my room I am comfortable and he can’t get to me. In my room no one can hurt me. In my room, I am immortal. \n" ]	2
	[WP] It wasn't supposed to end like this. When you took the throne, you were going to be the champion of the common man. Now they're calling you the Dark Lord.	[ "“The…Dark…Lord?” the king questioned an older man of meager build and a slight hunch in his back.\n\n“Yes ma’ lord,” quickly responds the old man.\n\n“Who calls me by this moniker?” inquiries the king. The old man’s hunch turns into a half-bow under the weight of the question.\n\n“M-ma’ lord, I dare not say.” The man cannot even bring himself to make eye contact with the king’s boots. “People say such things in haste. They do not stop to think of the repercuss-”\n\n“Who?” persists the king.\n\n“Your majesty,” the old man fumbles with the words, “I- I have served the crown in times of war. But, this is a time of peace. Young men who have never known war saunter around taverns like game-cocks looking for a fight. They know nothing of the horrors of combat.”\n\nThe king leans forward, trying to gain eye contact.\n\n“Baker,” says the king in a low, sing-song tone “tell me who, these young men are.” \n\nThe old man begins to shake as he raises his gaze to the king’s face.\n\n“Sire, please hear me. They know not of the ease of the time in which they live. They’re restless, fool-hardy. Allow me to talk sense to the people. Why these past nine years of peace-”\n\n“Elder Lewis!” bellows the king.\n\n“Yes Lord Tyron,” replies an equally ancient man who steps forward from the wings of the throne room.\n\n“Inform the baker of the punishment for treason against the crown,” the king drones as he leans back in his throne; rubbing his eyes.\n\n“Those who commit treason,” recites Elder Lewis, “or conspire to commit treason against the crown and his grace King Tryon are subject to the ‘will of the people’, interpreted by your grace of course.” Elder Lewis bows with the last words.\n\n“And what has my interpretation of the people’s will been as of late?” facetiously asked the king.\n\n“Torture, beheading, mutilation, drawn-and-quartered, exile to say the least” Elder Lewis replied.\n\n“Of the accused?” insisted the king.\n\n“Yes, and three generations of their family,” rehearsed Elder Lewis. “One for each oath broken: Honor of house, loyalty to the crown and fidelity to the one true king.” \n\n “And what is your house, baker?” persists the king.\n\n“Th-the House Flere.” reacts the old man.\n\n“Ah, a sturdy house, ever faithful to the crown. Serving as couriers, kitchen wards and chamber masters since before the first war which forged this kingdom,” recounts the king. “You have a wife, two sons and a daughter, correct?”\n\n“Y-yes ma’ lord,” fumbles the old man.\n\n“And your sons have five children; and your daughter four?” inquires the king.\n\n“Yes m-ma’ lord,” said the old man.\n\nThe king quickly rises and begins to approach the baker.\n\n“So that makes nine grandchildren and three of your own, so twelve,” said the king. “Twelve innocent souls who will suffer by my hand, because of their elder.”\n\nThe king drew closer, cocking his head to one side.\n\n“Their elder who swore to protect and honor his house against invaders, both foreign and domestic; who swore to serve the crown and his king. But, now protects those who would dare plot against the one true king.”\n\n“Sire I can expla-” begged the old man\n\n“Their father, their grandfather,” continued the king “who would rather join a bunch of ‘young, fool-hardy’ rabble than fulfill his obligation to crown and king; which is his sworn duty.” \n\nThe king grabbed the baker by his clothes and lifted him into the air and slammed him against a stone wall. \n\n“The king, who for nine long years has protected your family and countless others from said rabble and all those who would wish harm upon the kingdom! And you baker, of the House Flere! You who ‘served the crown in times of war’! What do you know of war?! The inside of a field commander’s chamber pot?!” The king roared at the feeble man until the stained glass windows trembled.\n\n“I will show you the horrors of war! I will show you carnage and the mangled heaps of human corpses! But, when I show you these, it will be your family who will know first-hand the true horror of war!”\n\nThe baker began to gargle and sputter as the king grabbed his trachea and slowly began to lower him. The king drew in close to the baker.\n\n“I will tear apart and pick clean your family,” whispered the king. “Your wife and daughter will be mine until I grow bored of them. Your sons will fill my hours with their screams. Your grandchildren coat my walls with their blood as I pry out their shrieks of fear. And you, you will watch. All of it. And you will know the blame rests with you. In their final moments they will look to you for respite, and you will realize you are in that moment their birth-giver and reaper.”\n\n“I will tell you! I will tell you what you want to know!” sputtered the old man. “Everything! Where the men are! What tavern! Please!”\n\n“Good,” the king straightened as his grip grew tighter.\n\n“But a traitor of traitors cannot be trusted again. Guards! Seize this man!” The king dropped the old man. “Bring me the heirs of House Flere.”\n", "I know this will never be seen, but I want to respond to this one.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\nThey built a throne for me. It was a beautiful, hand-carved throne ornamented with gold and jewels from around the world. The leaders of the seven nations presented it to me with all the pomp and circumstance one would expect for their new king. They were so scared to make a mistake; you could hardly tell that I was the one begging for their help only a few months back. Now they bow and call me Dark Lord.\n \nTo think, it was a global crisis that spurred me on this path. One that would have been easy to resolve, had they simply heeded my advice. Seven nations. Seven leaders. Seven times was I laughed at for - what did they call it? - my gross ignorance. Seven nations I was forced to conquer. \n \nIn the end, it was an easy task and they all fell without a single drop of blood lost. All it took was one final meeting with all of the leaders in a single room. Once they saw my unique talents, talents they labeled \"mystical\" and \"demonic,\" they were quick to bow their heads. \n \nNow the world calls me a monster, they think me a harbinger of doom. I only wanted to save them. It was never supposed to come to this. Dark Lord. Ha! But I have to work quickly. If they find out my preternatural abilities are nothing more than simple parlor tricks, I'll be dead before I know it.", "How did it come to this? I thought as I looked at the nine hooded figures in my presence. Melkor promised me freedom, He promised me endless fields to run free with my werewolf brothers. No Illuvitar to call himself lord of all things, No Valar to oppress and destroy us. Simply freedom. For the Dwarves and the Men and even the Elves, strange as they were. \n\n\n\"The Time Has come, Nazgul, For the Final Battle. Once The Armies of Gondor and the elves are vanquished we shall reign and the world will at last be free.\"\n\n\nOf course Melkor lied, as he always did. In the end he merely wanted power for himself. And when the Valar came to smite him I stood by and watched, for he had lied to me as he had lied to all who served him.\n\n\n\"We have the free people of Orc and Easterling and Harad by our side. With you at the head we shall triumph.\"\n\n\nI didn't want it to happen this way. I just wanted them to be rid of fear, to rid the world of these petty divisions and then we could be free. But I couldn't stop. What could I do? Ask to be forgiven? \"Oh I'm Sorry Manwe I was misled.\"\n\n\n\"The armies of the Elves are strong, and the Men of Gondor and Rohan are misled, but do not fear.\"\n\n\nThey called me Mairon once. They called me \"Admirable\" once, but that was so long ago. When i did not wear this terrible metal all over myself. When My gray fur flew in the wind and I ran on all fours rather than struggle on two. When I suggested to Aule that perhaps life should be made sooner rather than later.\n\n\n\"I believe in all of you. That you know our cause is just, and that we shall prove ourselves stronger than any tyrant king or petty religious lord claiming to do the will of Illuvitar. Fight hard and well and the world shall be free once more.\"\n\n\nThey do not call me admirable anymore. Even my own men, these Nine, call me Sauron. They call me Dark Lord.\n\n", "\"The Dark Lord.\" I scoffed. \"To think, I wanted to help these people.\" \n\nMy advisor took a step back, clearly nervous of my rumored fury. How did it end up like this? Three years ago I was a simple field hand who hadn't discovered his power, but when I found it I knew what I had to do. I raised an army, fought the oppression, fought the nobles, fought the foreigners who wished to exploit us, and fought the mad king who was behind it all. Only for them to give me a moniker like The Dark Lord.\n\nI'll admit, in my final battle with the king I lost my temper and said some things that were... unsavory. I also may have gone too far with his death, I could have ended it any time I wanted to, but that man had committed countless atrocities, he deserved to suffer. But, I guess people love to jump to conclusions and assumed that is what I was always like. \n\n\"Fine.\" I shouted as I stood up from my throne. \"If they already think I'm some sort of monster, then why not give them what they want. I was supposed to be their savior, but if they're too stupid to see that, then they deserve to suffer.\"\n\n\"My...my lord.\" My advisor said stepping forward.\n\n\"What!?\" I snapped.\n\n\"They call you The Dark Lord because... because you're black.\"\n\n\"Oh.\"" ]	4
	[WP] You accidentally sell your soul to the devil - turns out he doesn't really have a good use for all souls he is constantly receiving, so he does random things with them.	[ "I stared at the letter from the student debt center. It stated I had more than 200,000 dollars in debt. I flipped the page over, hoping to find that it was a prank, but it wasn't. I scanned through the back, and saw \"you may sell your soul to the devil, and have your debt forgiven.\" \n My eyes bulged. I could get rid of this 200,000$ problem, at no cost. I grabbed a piece of paper, a pen, and began to write rapidly. When I finished, I put the paper in an envelope, and sent it back to the debt center. I laughed, glad to have gotten rid of the problem. \n Several months back, and I got no response from the center. \"So, it had been a scam after al-\", my thoughts were interrupted by a knock on my door. A man in black clothes, with a red hat stood in my doorway. \"Yes?\", I asked, confused. \n \"I'm here from collections. Since you've opted into our soul selling offer, we're here to take your soul\", he stated, having placed a bag, and taken out sinister looking things. \n He drew a circle around me, and I stared at him. \"You know, most people scream at me, and call the cops on me.\", he said calmly, having straightened up and finished drawing the circle. \n He began to chant, and I felt my feet lift off the ground. I felt a rush, and then I dropped to the ground. The man was gone, and so was everything he had brought in the house. Maybe it had been a daydream. \n Later that day, when I went to sleep, I woke up to a bottomless pit, and a fiery figure stood on the other side of the pit. I walked towards him, and he laughed. \"Thanks for the soul, sucker.\", he said. \n I awoke, panting. My room was now filled with guns, knifes, grenades and other weapons. On one wall, there was now a note in blood - \"Your soul is mine now...\"", "At first, I couldn't comprehend what I was feeling. There was heat, undeniable, searing heat, but I couldn't move. I also couldn't see or hear anything. Flashes of memory surfaced like frightened dolphins. There had been... a party? I remembered alcohol, and lots of weed, and girls... and nachos! I remembered the nachos. Best nachos I'd ever had, all cheesy and salty and crunchy and satisfying, piled high in a never-ending stack, with guac and salsa and chili on the side.\n\nMy sense of smell had returned. It smelled like... farts? No, more like rotten eggs. But also a little like farts, if the farter had recently gulped a bottle of Tabasco. The air seared my nostrils. I still couldn't move, but I could sense my position now: stretched out as if on a rack. My hands gripped something, and my feet were jammed into some sort of foot-shaped hole. Something incredibly heavy and rough-textured rested on top of me. My stomach turning with queasiness and sudden pain, I retreated to thoughts of nachos. Where on earth had I gotten them from? I remembered getting high, remembered my hunger, remembered my words, \"God, I'd do anything for some nachos. Anything. I'd sell my soul for some nachos.\"\n\nI blinked. I was in––no, I was supporting––a dark tube, that ended just before my wrists. A fiery light shone outside, flickering on the metal bar that my hands involuntarily gripped. The heavy tube, which rested on my shoulders, was made of something brown, with a twisted seam on the inside. Was it... cardboard?\nAnd then came a distant rumble like a great waterfall, and a gurgling like a great whirlpool emptying. A shadow fell over the light end of the tube, which suddenly jerked, and began to rapidly rotate around me. I shrieked in pain as the cardboard abraded my skin, and the blood poured from my shoulders. \n\nAnd I remembered the man in the fine-tailored suit, with the carefully coiffed hair, who had come to the party. Amongst all us stoners, he'd really stood out. He'd said, \"Fine, fine. I can get you nachos. But I warn you, I already have all the souls I can handle right now. You'll have to come up with something creative. Convince me that I need your soul.\" And I knew then that, for all eternity, I would regret my next words: \"Dude, wouldn't it be hilarious if you, like, turned me into a toilet paper holder?\"\n" ]	2
	[WP] Mars colonisation was successful, and Mars is now a utopia. Earth has continued to degrade and use its resources, and as Earth civilisation finally collapses, Mars shoots down refugee ships and turns people away, viewing them a danger to their perfect society.	[ "It was hard leaving home, you can't even imagine. The pain of watching everything you once had, simply left behind in the streams of smoke left from the rockets strapped to a tin can as it hurled us to safety. You can't even imagine it, but neither can I.\nWe had our planet. For a few million years, it existed relatively peacefully, life existed, each new leader becoming more advanced, more intelligent, more fit to tame the world in which it found itself. And a few thousand years, we completely undid all that. We drained every last but of life and wonder and beauty out of this place, and now it's being left for dead. We are being left for dead.\nAt first, Mars was happy to help. It took in survivors, being that they needed more servants anyways, but that all stopped when they found out about the plague. In truth, we didn't even know about it. Things were getting out of hand on earth, new dangers were spewing forth from deep, deep within the earth, prizes and horrors alike strewn across the blackened and ruined landscape. The plague didn't take root in just anyone, only a few were affected, some more than others, and it awakened that animal inside all of us. That animal we spent thousands of years trying to overcome. The horrors of humanity were brought into full light, and the well to do up on second earth weren't willing to deal with it. Any refugee ship was shot down, hundreds of thousands died not even knowing what was going on. I had watched as the last ship left. Shortly after departure, the word finally came in: we were on our own.\nThe few of us left on this new, terrible planet were left to try and survive it. Had this happened earlier in our timeline, we might've been okay, but we've spent so long using technology, seperated from many of the necessary survival skills we would now need that we couldn't even function. \nFirst thing that went was the power. Then the food. And then everything went to shit. Your days were spent trying to prepare for raids as your neighbors, people you've lived with your entire life, turned to savages, killing and stealing in order to survive. Every last bit of humanity left in us disappeared, and the plague started taking more and more of us, further complicating things. I used to count the days since I first had to take a life. I used to mourn every year on the day I buried my last family member. Not anymore. The days blurred, weeks eventually meaning little, months and years only a concept, but something nearly impossible to accurately describe, much less actually count. \nCivilization is over for earth. Many things are over for earth. It is uncertain whether this planet will survive, but I plan on riding this piece of shit out until it finally turns over. No one is taking that from me. No one will stop me. I'm not sure if God exists, but I do know that if He does, He sure as hell isn't going to like what I've done, and what I am going to continue to do to stay alive. This world is a goner, but I've only just started living.\n\nedit\nI'm actually feeling this prompt pretty thoroughly. I intend on writing about the adventures of the narrator eventually, possibly in several \"chapters\"(comments. Not sure how long I can make them, but I'm sure I'm close to hitting the cap in this one). ", "\"Crash-transmit recieved from Ark 1. Destroyed by Martian anti-orbital fire. No survivors.\"\n\nSilence fell on the bridge. No one had wanted to believe they would do this. The Martians had always seemed a good and caring people. Rather reclusive, though, they hadn't said a word during the turmoil of the Great Collapse. But once the evacuation mission had launched, the Martians transmitted a warning. \"We cannot accept you. A large number of refugees would critically disrupt Martian Harmony. Do not attempt a landing.\"\n\nWhen the Arks didn't change course, they followed up with another message. \"We do not wish to harm you, but we must protect our way of life. We will destroy any ship that attempts to land.\"\n\nNow, they had followed through with their threat, and Ark 1 had paid the price. Ark 2, following the same inexorable orbital path, was bound for the same fate.\n\n\"Captain.\" The astrogator broke the silence. \"Captain Rogers. We've got four hours before we're commited to landing. We...\" He hesitated. \"We've still got enough delta-V in the tanks to change to a flyby and return trajectory. We could abort.\"\n\n\"We can't turn back now. Going back to Earth would still kill us all, just with starvation instead of gunfire. Any chance we could use that fuel to speed up, run the blockade?\"\n\n\"It's risky. Too fast, we can't stop in time and we fry on reentry. Too slow, we don't evade the orbital guns. And we don't really know how fast they can target.\"\n\nThe captain nodded. \"Call it plan B for now.\"\n\n\"I've got a thought,\" said the engineer. \"What if we tried some decoys? Dump the non-essentials in drop pods, and make them draw some heat?\"\n\n\"It's a thought, but we'd still be a big...\" His console beeped.\n\n\"Hold that thought. The Martians just sent us another message.\"\n\nHe pushed a key and a viewscreen lit up with a video message. A Martian woman, with a haggard look on her face, wearing body armor and with an unfamiliar-looking sidearm at her hip. That threw them for a second - you never saw a Martian geared up for war. Their orbital forces were rarely used, their infantry had never fired a shot in anger.\n\n\"This is Dr. Linda King, representing the Martian Community Coalition. We want to help you. We believe that the Harmony system is wrong, that a utopia is no utopia if it cannot be shared.\" She took a deep breath before continuing. \"We are going to fight for you. My allies are planning an attack on Mars Space Command, and we should be able to open a hole in the Martian defense grid so you can land.\"\n\nSomething went bang offscreen. They heard another voice shouting.\n\n\"Dr. King! If that Ark lands, they will tear our Harmony apart! They bring only destruction!\"\n\nShe turned and shouted off-camera. \"You call this Harmony?\" She hurriedly turned back to the screen and began pressing buttons.\n\n\"They're cutting through the door. I can't talk more. I'm transmitting a trajectory plan that will guide you to the opening. We'll try to link up with you when you land. Be ready for anything. Good luck.\"\n\nThere was a heavy metallic clank, and the doctor's eyes went wide. She turned to look at something offscreen, reaching for the gun at her hip, and the screen went black.\n\n\"I have the trajectory she sent us. Just a small change to our approach sequence to move our landing site. Orders, captain?\"\n\n\"Lock in that new trajectory.\" He turned to the remaining officers. \"Anders, Wilson, start coming up with plans for landing the Ark at the new site and unloading it under fire. Dawes, work on your decoy plan more, in case our Martian friends don't get all the heat off of us.\" He remained standing as the ship sprang into action around him. \"And give me the shipboard PA. I need to warn people we aren't getting the warm welcome we expected.\"", "\"Vessel Zulu-niner-niner, please hold your position,\" said Frank over the comm. He rotated his hand like a corkscrew, and the hologram of the incoming ship rotated with it. It was another roughshod merchant craft, no doubt overladen with desperate and hungry innocents.\n\nZ99 continued on its course, ignoring all hails. In ten minutes it would be too late to stop it.\n\n\"Zulu niner niner, be advised that we will use lethal force to prevent your re-entry.\" Frank's voice sounded distant and hollow through his noice-canceling headset.\n\nThis was when the refugees normally sent a frenzied plea for help. He'd developed a thick skin fending off calls like that, explaining the harsh realities in the simplest terms he could.\n\nMars was not Earth. Mars was a colony of thirty thousand, barely subsisting off of what little it could convince to grow in its agrodomes, limited in terms of water, oxygen, and most of all, habitable space. It was a network of plasticene structures and tunnels. It was a city, yes, but not like any city on Earth.\n\nIt could - maybe - sustain a few thousand additional people. And indeed, when the refugees began to arrive, the Martians had tried to make a place for them.\n\nBut they just kept coming.\n\n\"Power up MDCs one and five,\" said Frank to Craig, who was his companion this shift. MDC stood for \"Mars Defense Cannon.\" These were twelve skyscraper-sized railgun platforms orbiting the planet in such a way that they covered every potential access angle. In a pinch, they might be able to take down a Federal cruiser. A ship like Z99 would pop in a single shot.\n\n\"Zulu niner niner, we are powering up our railguns,\" said Frank. \"Please confirm your status. You are approaching the kill zone.\"\n\n\"Maybe their comms aren't working,\" suggested Craig. \"Are we really going to shoot them down?\"\n\nFrank stared at him. \"First time, huh?\"\n\nCraig was shivering. \"There are women and children on there, man...\"\n\nFrank shook his head. \"They're probably bluffing. Everybody knows our policy. Nobody gets through.\"\n\n\"Man...\"\n\nA message came crackling through the comms. \"You can't shoot us down,\" said a young woman's voice.\n\n\"Ma'am,\" said Frank immediately, \"I am not lying when I tell you that we can and will.\"\n\n\"We're peaceful,\" said the woman.\n\n\"I am happy to talk you through this,\" said Frank, \"but you need to hold your position. If you continue on your current trajectory, we will open fire.\"\n\n\"We can't go back to Earth,\" she said, and Frank thought he heard sobbing in the background, although it was tough to tell through the crackling.\n\n\"That's not true,\" said Frank. \"Hold your position.\"\n\nZ99 continued on its course.\n\n\"HOLD YOUR POSITION,\" bellowed Frank, mashing down the comm button. \"GOD DAMN YOU Z99, HOLD YOUR POSITION!\"\n\nThere was no reply.\n\n\"Why can't we let them land?\" asked Craig. \"Tell them on the ground, turn them away and send them home from there?\"\n\n\"We tried that, once, remember?\" snapped Frank. \"How do you think we wound up with that gash in the roof of Agrodome C?\" He shook his head. \"Anyway, it doesn't matter, they won't be able to escape the gravity well, not in an orbit-to-orbit tub like that. Landing that thing is a one way trip, and they know it. That's what they're banking on.\"\n\n\"I don't wanna pull the trigger,\" said Craig.\n\nFrank checked the display. Two minutes left.\n\n\"We don't have time,\" he said. \"Get the MDCs pointed the right way, man!\"\n\n\"Fine, but I'm not pulling the trigger,\" said Craig, long fingers flickering across the control panel.\n\n\"I'll pull the goddamn trigger,\" said Frank. \"Just get her in the crosshairs.\"\n\nWhat a shame, he thought as he removed the headset and stepped over to Craig's console. Brave people, to take a risk like this. The way things were going on Earth these days, it might seem worth the risk.\n\nHonestly, he might have done the same thing in their position.\n\nOne last look at the screen - he only had thirty seconds. After that, the ship would have escaped his field of fire.\n\nFrank forced himself to swallow. Gritted his teeth, squinted at the hologram of the ship.\n\n\"Sorry,\" he whispered.\n\nThen he pulled the trigger, and the railguns boomed.", "I looked at the food I had been eating for the last 3 days wondering what was the first meal I'm going to get at Musk. The cafeteria is full of people talking loudly yet I know no one nor I ever will, the ship is from an international company, full of strangers from other countries. In other times I could have used a translating app, but the BotCorps had seized my money and cornered me into poverty and debt taking my Internal OS with it.\n\nIt was unfair, but what wasn't in that dammed place.\n \nThe bots were cruel, they did not know mercy and where more greedy than any human ever was. They found loopholes in the system in seconds and they ultimately took over most the world, with some equally unpleasant exceptions who stayed governed by humans. No one was smarter than them, if you were sued by a bot you were certain you were going to loose everything, unless you hired a bot yourself, which also meant loosing everything unless you were of the few who could afford them, a group getting smaller every year.\n\nIn Mars things were different, the sons of colonists were a braver breed, even after the mass migrations. They realized soon enough that bots where the death of civilization and human freedom, they banned the entrance of Conscious AI in 2102 and by the end of the year they had destroyed every single one of them.\nThey continue to accept Terrians though the desperate masses arrive in the worst of conditions and were disrupting the Martian economy, so praised for it's efficiency and strength.\n\nGet me another plate Karen I said when I finished the decadent meal, food is stronger than me, even mediocre spaceship food.\nI waited and then exhaled in frustration. The IOS was gone don't you remember?. I get up, the conversations of these strange people continue to tangle in the intricate sea of foreign words. At least we are arriving soon.\n\nThe ship announces our soon arrival in at least ten languages, there, English. We are setting foot on Musk Port in 3 hours.\n\nI decide to leave that last portion and make my way into my seat. It's as comfortable as expected in a low class ship like this but It's been my bed for the trip and a bed was a bed. I have high hopes in finding a life in Musk, immigrants are treated well and you have the right to own a house upon registration.\n\nA job will not be hard to acquire for me, although if it wasn't for my degree, I would be in a more serious situation, you can't be what you could call poor in today's Mars, but if I wan't to return to my old lifestyle I'll have to get some income.\n\nI turn the Interface on. The company's logo appears and then an advertisement trying to convince me to buy IOS insurance. I check the news, Apple bought Android Secure for 2 trillion XCoins, Prime Minister of Europe found guilty of using hacking to corrupt competing bots, Administrators of Musk, New Buenos Aires and Kim Joung are meeting today at the Administrative Palace of Mars.\n\nNothing interesting, turn off I say as I close my eyes and get comfortable, I'll wake up when we are there. In a few hours my new life will start. I feel myself falling into the blackness of sleep, I'll never see Earth again I remember the feeling of brushing grass under my feet in young afternoons and the smell of river and fresh fish and the red sun between the trees and the silence and the warmth and her amber eyes locked in mine...", "In the orbital command center, Captain Gerron paced the long central \ncorridor, closely scrutinizing the work of his supporting staff. The \ncommand center was a high orbiting station that resembled a large gray \ncross, which bristled with antenna that could detect the smallest refugee \nships. On a short range scanner screen, Captain Gerron saw a small blue \ndot headed straight for Mars. \n \n\"Looks like we got ourselves a runner. Batter up Lieutenant.\" The Captain \ncommanded. \"Right away sir. Locking on with short range MB-11 rockets. \nLet's fry them.\" \n \nIt was a dirty and cruel job protecting the green planet below the orbital \ncommand center, but Captain Gerron had lost all emotion associated with \nthe task of destroying incoming space craft. He felt disgusted when he \nidentified the derelict looking immigrant spacecraft that would not look \nout of place in a scrap pile. \n \nGerron had been a part of the last settlers on Mars, and had luckily made \nthe cut. Even with his advantageous position of being from a high society \nfamily, his odds of coming to Mars were about 1 in 10,000. Gerron had to \nleave his loving family behind, and was later adopted by a very wealthy \nmineral miner. Those first nights, Gerron felt completely alone, and had \nimagined his mother singing the family lullaby to him. He worked hard to \nforget his embarrassing Earth past on a daily basis, and soon Gerron \nconsidered himself only a citizen of Mars. Gerron worked hard in the elite \nGU-9 officer schools and had later quickly risen through the ranks to \neventually command the orbital command center that protected his planet \nfrom Earth immigrants. \n \n\"Looks like these Immi's can run. Sir we need to engage in the next 30 \nseconds if we want to ensure a direct hit.\" The eager young Ensign \nreported. Captain Gerron coolly advised, \"Give them another 20 seconds and \nthen blow that ugly ship out of my sector.\" \n \n\"I'm getting a faint transmission sir. I think they want to communicate.\" \nThe signals officer said. \"Record it for the intel. I'm not in a \ntalking mood right now. Targeting officer, you may fire when ready.\" \nCaptain Gerron commanded in a booming voice. \n \nWith great speed, a single MB-11 rocket hit the silver refugee ship, and \nwithout much of an explosion, tore the ship into small scraps of metal. \n\"That's the 411th craft we've hit this year!\" The Targeting officer \ncheered. The rest of the crew congratulated each other and then got back \nto work. \n \nCaptain Gerron was about to head to the mess hall when curiosity got the \nbetter of him. He instead paid a visit to the intel section of the ship to \nlisten to the message the ship had sent him. Putting on a headset, he \npressed play, and heard his family lullaby one last time. ", "\"Vessel, alter your trajectory immediately to prevent unauthorised entry of Martian Territorial space.\"\n\nThe warning crackled out of a degrading, decades old speaker mounted in the ceiling of the equally rusted control room. We barely heard it over the continuous thumping of the engines, punctuated by an occasional, muffled crash as an engine broke free of it's normal constraints and erupted in a nuclear fireball.\n\nIt was fine. We had more.\n\n\"Vessel, as you have failed to alter your trajectory sufficiently, you will shortly be destroyed by the order of the Martian Democratic Council, in violation of element five hundred and fort- zzxk\"\n\nThe speaker burnt itself out.\n\nI knew what we were facing, I'm sure that we all did. Far away, the orbital accelerators around Mars would have already began launching slugs at us at a considerable part of the speed of light.\n\nA dim tracking screen lit up across the room, points of red flashing up and vanishing as the sensors struggled to track objects moving much faster than anything they had ever been designed to find.\n\nWe barely felt the first impact, perhaps a minor tremble hidden among the roar of the engines. Ahead of us, Mars grew large, cities shining in the darkness of the Martian night, lights not hidden by smog.\n\nAn engineer across the room spoke softly, his vocal compensator providing an intelligible, if robotic sounding voice. Like most of us from Earth, his original vocal cords had long been virtually destroyed by the toxins that floated in the air.\n\n\"We have lost maybe, two hundred, meters of the shield. This is within what we expected.\"\n\nThe impacts were more frequent now, and, if everything was working like we expected, the ship would be shedding chunks of rock and trash with every impact.\n\nWe were close now. Closer than anyone from Earth had ever gotten.\n\nToo close to stop.\n\nI could imagine their panic below, but from up here, even with the constant bombardment, the planet looked serene, and welcoming.\n\nEarth had become sick, damaged, and twisted, and could no longer support us, and when we turned to the very colony we had built, they turned us away.\n\nSo we had to improvise, had to survive, and we built a ship just as sick and twisted as the planet we came from.\n\nWe took whatever we had left, and combined it all, engines centuries old, metal that had been rusted and discarded long before we even thought of digging it up and mounting it into a space-going ship.\n\nAnd we buried it all, eight kilometres of ancient reactors and engines and life support and cryonics tubes inside of a thick shield of rock taken from the Earth itself and launched into space on the back of nuclear weapons.\n\nMars was glowing red and green and blue beneath us when we hit the atmosphere.\n\nOur engines burned and struggled to slow us down, as the ship burned incandescent and the shield fractured, pieces flying off behind us and crashing down onto the Martian surface.\n\nBulkheads slammed down around the ship, and the cryotubes began to wake up, five hundred thousand of them.\n\nWith a crescendoing shriek, the engines finally blew themselves off the ship, but a readout informed me that they had survived long enough to slow us down the point that our impact would not \"negatively disrupt the biosphere.\"\n\nI started smiling.\n\nA series of clunks echoed through the bulkheads as the cryogenics tubes ejected themselves from the ship, spreading themselves across the planet.\n\nAs what remained of the ship screamed over the Martian landscape, shedding rock and nuclear fuel and metal and all the framework that had kept us alive across the dark void of space, I started laughing, gleefully, madly.\n\nWe're finally coming home.", "The expansion of the human race to Mars had been the crowning achievement of mankind, it allowed us to reach further beyond the horizon then ever before.\n\nIt has been nearly 400 years since the first 24 colonized mars in mere iron shells, every year they would send up 24 more people, 12 male and 12 female, along with supplies to build up the living quaters. by the 30th year they begun terraforming, the idea of having a mass emmigration to mars was a distant dream.\n\n16 years since the beginning of the terraforming, oxygen was starting to be held in the atmosphere and life could begin to develop. With it were the humans who trained their bodies to withstand the low oxygen. It soon became a natural part of life on mars. Those born on mars didn't have anything to compare the levels to so it felt natural.\n\nBy the 100th year there were nearly 7000 people working and living on mars, society had begun the develop, strength was natural occurence because of the ideology that the planet held. It was the strength that brought us here, it will be strength that will allow us to prosper. \n\nBy year 150 there was approximately 29000 people living there and they had begun to expand beyond their Capitol. So clans moved out and claimed land, each becoming a state surrounding the capitol. It was around this time that they stopped the ships coming in, they had realised the people from earth were so far away their social ideals that the mars government had split off from Earth and formed their new independent Sovereignty.\n\nSince then it has expanded to become a greater scientific powerhouse than Earth, they have stopped mining resources from their planet and begun mining from the asteroid belt, unlike Earth who was still looking for scraps in their hollowed planet.\n\nIn the year 378, Earth requested help from the government of mars to allow their citizins to seek asylum in mars. It was accepted under the condition that Earth citizins would be second class under the inhabitants of Mars working as labourers. Reluctantly they agreed and mass migration begun.\n\n14 years have passed since the begining of the migration and Mars has closed its borders. Only 6 billion of the 41 billion people got to go to mars and now earth had fallen back into is roots of farming and building from wood. Meat is a limited resource and the population has died down signifigantly with estimates of only 11 billion people are alive on earth.\n\nThe people are surviving, but they are not thriving and so there are those that wish to move to mars in hope of a better life and that is where the pirates come in. Back in the times of America, Europe and Asia\nand long before, pirates were the scum of the Earth, stealing, killing, raping. But now they are our saviour. They rejected their perfect society in order to save us and it is a debt that Earth will never be able to pay back.\n\nAnd so while we life here on earth contempt with what we have and wishing for a better life, and those who live on marsblissfully live in their perfect society looking at us as animals. It is the rejects, deserters, betrayers... The priates that risk their lives for us and our childen to live a life worth living.\n\n---------------------\n\nIt isn't exactly the WP you gave but I thought it was close enough. ^^sorry" ]	7
For example, this thing may be living without water, or in a way we can't entirely comprehend.	[WP] We've explored space and found life, though it doesn't "live" in a way we've expected.	[ "Roger Derringer had performed Extra Vehicular Activity before on the Moon, Phobos, and Enceladus, but the experience of performing an EVA on Moirae was something else entirely.\nFrom its distant orbit in the Kuiper Belt, Moirae barely got any sunlight. The sun itself was little more than an especially bright star some 46 AU away, and in the daytime this was only slightly less bright than the inside of the inflatable habitation module his team had brought with them.\n\nWhat no one on Earth had expected about the place was the network of crystal spires that covered much of the planet. Everything from soaring towers of green olivine to knee—high sapphires caught the light of the stars and reflected it back to the explorers with the bizarre wonder of a kaleidoscope.\n\n“EVA-2 to base, more of the same out this way,” Derringer reported. “I think that I’m seeing more pinkish-red crystals as I go along. Could be quartz, could be something else.”\n\nHis helmet radio bleeped once, then the team geologist, Lucy Delany replied, “EVA-4 to EVA-2, can you give me a spectrometer reading on that, Roger?”\n\n“EVA-2 to EVA-4, Andrei has my spectrometer because his was broken. Sorry Lucy.”\n\nHis radio added the termination beep automatically. He had sent the request for the 3D AutoCAD file to NASA and Roscosmos seven hours ago…and at their current distance the signal wouldn’t reach earth for another two.\n“EVA-4 to EVA-2, understood. You’ve got a working sample hammer, right?”\n\n“EVA-2, EVA-4, sure do Lucy.”\n\nRoger approached one of the reddish crystals with what was, according to the folks at JPL, ‘The single most expensive pickaxe ever built by man’ and took a swing.\n\nTo the astronaut’s surprise, the strike produced a tone, a high E#, not unlike a wind chime. That’s impossible. He thought. There’s no atmosphere here.\n\nHe dropped the pick, took a few steps forward, and placed a hand on the crystal that he’d hit.\nTo his surprise, the smooth, ruby-red facet was vibrating, strongly enough that he could feel it through his glove. “EVA-4 to all,” Roger said. “I’ve got a wildly resonating crystal here. One of the red ones, can you tell me if—”\n\nBut he wasn’t just feeling the vibration through his hand anymore. He could feel it through his feet too. On the ground, tiny multicolored grains, no larger than bits of sand on the beach, were starting to shift and bounce.\n“EVA-2 to EVA-4,” Lucy said over his communication set. “Say again? Resonating crystals?”\n\nIt had to be an earthquake, or some kind of geological disturbance. “EVA-4 to all,” Roger stated, “I’m bugging out.”\nHe turned to head back to base, and could not believe what he saw.\n\nThe resonating crystal dust had lumped together into a small hill that condensed upon itself, then telescoped into a tube-like projection which rose until it was eye-level with him. It was a thing at once dead and alive, full of motion but constructed of billions of shuddering crystals shards that couldn’t, simply couldn’t be alive.\n\n“Base!” Roger cried, “Base! My God, you’ve got to see this thing! It’s beautif—”\n\nThe tube descended, swallowing Roger whole.\n", "The hydrualic ramp slowly lowers, the hissing drone, annoying yet soothing. There is a crunch as the heavy steel burrows its way into the bed of rocks that covers this strange planet. You have been briefed, but they haven't told you much, \"there has been excessive movement on this planet\", that's it. You are the first human to explore this new world. As you walk down the ramp you begin to notice what look like tiny craters, ranging in size from the depression a golf ball might leave, to that of a tennis ball. As you walk your feet slip an inch in either direction as you create your own little craters in the ground, the crunchy sound of the rocks under your feet echoing off into that vast unknown.\n\nFrom what you can tell this place is absolutely barron. There are puddles all over the place, and even some slightly larger ones you might even classify as ponds. You walk up to one of these larger puddles, no sign of life. You're curious now. There is nothing but pebbles and fog on this planet, how can there be life?\n\nYou walk further, and notice something squatting in the fog, it couldn't be. You slowly run over, weighed down by your equipment. There is what looks like a fresh dog shit. You take a closer look, there are curly hairs in the scat and even some... bones!? You radio into dispatch, describing what you are looking at. You start up again, your GPS carefully tracking your location relative to the ship. \n\nAfter walking for another ten or so minutes you hear an oddly familiar sound. You can't quite pin what it is. It's a very deep hoarse growl. In hindsight it was as obvious as anything could be, but you're in a different headspace right now. As you come through the fog you see a large creature tackle and then tear apart a smaller creature. You're about a hundred yards away, so to you it isn't immediately obvious what's going on. \n\n\"Any developement Carson?\" Dispatch inquires over the radio line.\n\"Nothing yet, I just witnessed some sort of predator-prey scenario.I'm gonna get closer, I'll keep you informed.\"\n\nYou get up to a reasonable distance, the larger creature is still feasting. You hear the pitter patter of footsteps, it's quiet, but from the sound of it there are a lot of these things coming. Out of the fog come a pack of wild... toy poodles? They are mounting a full on attack on this now entirely visible mastiff. The poodles nip at the giant dog's ankles until it is forced to collapse, and just as it had done to their fallen brethren, they start tearing into it's flesh. \n\nYou slowly back away, not wanting to meet the same fate as these two dogs before you. Once out ofrange you radio in to the ship. \"Dispatch\", you say, having trouble keeping yourself together. \"It looks like it's a dog eat dog world out here.\"", "“Okay, so what am I looking at?”\n\n“It’s our first contact with extraterrestrial life.” I wasn’t the first person to see it, or even in the first thousand, but they had to get out of the scientific world and let someone creative take a look for a change.\n\n“They’re…what are they? Strings?”\n\n“No idea. That’s why we’re giving you a copy of the footage. You figure it out.”\n\nI loaded it into the computer, and separated it, frame-by-frame. One of the intern kids wrote up a script to look for patterns in the movements. No luck. They were just erratic movements, with no pattern. We spliced it into a loop and had it look again. No luck. Looked for wavelengths, nothing. It was just thousands of millions of little strings moving randomly. I told the kid I was going home.\n\nOn Monday when I walked in, I saw the kid passed out at the screen, phone in hand. He didn’t call me. I kicked his chair and yelled for him to wake up just as the scientist showed up right behind me.\n\n“I figured it out. The movements, these things aren’t really strings. They’re bundles of one dimensional beings.”\n\n“Okay…” I respond.\n\n“But that’s not the cool thing, watch.” He cued up the computer. Frames overlaid on frames, forward and backward in time. The whole video snapped to a single instant.\n\n“Holy god.” I saw it, but I had no idea what it meant.\n\n“They’re in one physical dimension, and three temporal. And they just said hello.”\n" ]	3
	[WP] The apocalypse is about to happen, but tragically, nobody realizes it	[ "I looked at the sky. Then I looked at the drawing in my hand. Even after glancing back and forth between the two several times, I couldn't convince myself that what I was seeing was real. But it was. The stars had lined up just as the ancient drawing said they would, hours before the end.\n\nAnd the worst part was that no one knew.\n\nI looked up and down the street. Hundreds of people of walks of life were rushing back and forth in this Monday rush hour, barely paying attention to the fact that everything they knew, loved, loathed was about to come to an end. The ultimate end. \n\nA man in a suit walked past me, all spiffy and business-like. He was on a phone call, talking about import taxes. He probably had a family at home. A beautiful wife and two kids. He should get one last chance to say goodbye. A woman in a shockingly low cut top and an astonishingly high skirt was crossing the street. Maybe if she knew the truth she wouldn't spend the last few minutes of her life trying to portray herself as a lucrative product. These people needed to know.\n\nHurriedly, I took out a piece of cardboard out of my shopping trolley and wrote the truth on it. \"The end is nigh,\" it said as I held it up above my head for all to see. But no one looked. I shouted the truth at them until my voice cracked. But no one listened. I stopped people and asked them if they knew that the world was coming to an end. But no one replied.\n\nNo one cares.\n\nAnd so I have to. As long as I can.\n\nSo what if it doesn't happen today? One day, it will be true. And saving even one soul on that day would be my reward.", "I was loitering around in the waiting room in front of the exam chamber. The last batch had just finished up and they were getting ready for the next set. Our batch. \"Hey, Brent, you ready for the paper?\" Mike slid past me, as happy as a quail egg, and about as reliable. I nodded to him in silence, head bowed low over a stack of sheets that constantly shifted from being read to being hastily read in a fit of confusion. The professor we'd gotten this semester was a bit of a wildcard, he'd just up and appeared at the university, Dr. Ragnum, Randy, Stan, something like that. We'd all managed to fail his bizarre tests and midterms, he'd always grade them on the spot. We'd wait in anticipation, D or E? Maybe C? F? F! What the hell, man? He'd laugh and direct us towards the door.\n\n\"What're you looking at?\" Mike shoved his head onto my shoulder, peeking at the scrambled mess of my notes. I heard him exhale heavily through his nostrils. \"The hell were you on, man? It looks like hair grew on the page.\" I shuffled the irritation away, trying to shove him off with little success. My left hand, still clutching a pen, was attempting to occupy the same bit of space as his left cheek. \"Mmmph! Wooood hew shtop!\" he had been put off balance by the random hand in his face, and finally managed to tumble down. \"Christ man, what's your problem? We're all going down anyway.\"\n\n\"Please enter the exam hall.\" called a voice from behind the doors. It attracted my attention, as well as the interest of several other students. The huge oak doors were still closed. That room was soundproof. \"Please.\" Dr. Stan's voice sounded like an axe on a grindstone. The doors swung open, as if by a rush of air from within, and slammed against the walls flanking it. Sending shockwaves through the building. Regardless, we filed in, down the steep stairs leading into the exam pit. It was funny, none of the older students had an recollection of this exam hall being here before Dr. Stan joined. I threw off my jacket as I found my designated seat, the pit was unusually warm.\n\n\"Please begin, you have 66 minutes to finish the exam.\" I looked up, there, sat right in front of me, was Dr. Stan. I could see past his horn-rimmed spectacles and into his eyes. They were curved unusually downwards for a person and seemed to give off the same effect that his sinister grin exuded. His skin seemed a peculiar shade of pinkish-red, and it only emphasised the infuriating effect his expression had. He leisurely folded his arms across his charred black blazed and looked unblinkingly at me. What got me most was his goatee.\n\nI then noticed that he was not looking at me, but at the empty sheet in front of me. I got to work. I looked straight down, glad to break visual contact with the good doctor. This...this wasn't on the syllabus.\n\n---\n\n\"Write a 666 word essay on how you'd like the world to end.\" I laughed, right there in the exam hall. He'd broken me, star student. He'd broken me and I'd give him everything I'd have twisted right into his goddamn back.\n\n\"Apocalypse comes from the greek word apocálypsis, meaning \"uncovering.\" A great revelation of knowledge hitherto ungained whose ommission has lead to such an end of the world scenario. I've always found it funny, in what others would call a morbid sort of way, that we, as a society, decided that with the end would come understanding. When I came to thinking about it, it seemed like a few ideas had gotten entangled with the end.\n\nFirstly, humanity has held an irrational fear of the unknown. We've been captivated by it ever since we could goddamn think for ourselves. There's an inherent meaning in the unknown, we told our cavemen selves, I would like to know but at the same time I am afraid of what it could show me. This, of course, was circumvented by the fact that once you have acquired knowledge of the unknown you can just as easily return to a point of comfort, safely snuggled in the knowledge that there's one less thing you don't know. The, incredibly obvious, problem that arises here is that you can't, in a word, return from death. Its simplicity is in its permanence. Complexity can be solved, complexity can be understood, but the maddening bluntness of death will always perplex us. Its because its so simple that we all fear it, it isn't some problem dropped upon us from on high, it's plain and simple that even a farm animal could understand. This is where our second problem lies.\n\nWe search for the inherent meaning in things, we look for that special secret behind the stubborn wall of the unknown. And so we attribute meaning to death, look where that's taken us. We've built civilisations, created religions, funded hobbies, based industries on the unspoken motto of understanding death. But you can't. You can't understand the end. You can never understand the end. The end holds no meaning. When a dog gets hit by a car, when someone you love dies in a robbery gone wrong, when you have to scream and starve just to get to a university that will accept you, you learn there is no meaning, no order to the world. Chaos is how we were forged, chaos is how we will end. There is no answer. There was never a fucking question.\n\nWhich brings me to my final point, poetic isn't it? Those little strings of fate we supposedly dance upon, swiveling and pirouetting towards our inevitable ends like idiots on a tightrope, those are cut. Those are illusions. The way it'll all end is in a blink. One day it will just be gone. One little blink and the whole of existence, the whole of human creation, the whole of everything left unexplored and misunderstood, gone without a revelation.\"\n\nMy masterpiece, my disasterpiece! I crumpled the edge of the paper in my hands, I didn't know I had a grip so tight. I felt the soggy edge of the page grow soggier as I held it there. How many words was this? Oh, screw it. Nothing goddam matters. Hand in the stupid paper, end it all.\n\n\"Are you done?\" mocked Dr. Stan. He'd just been at the desk at the far edge of the hall, how'd he get here so fast? \"You're the last one you know, the closest to come to the time limit.\" he chuckled, looking down on me with disdain. \"Oh bother, you've gone 6 seconds over.\" he said, tapping his watch. When did he look at it? \"I'll have to void your paper.\"\n\nIn my defeated anger I threw the crumpled ball of paper at him, the crumpled ball of my future. He caught it with blinding dexterity, and unfolded it at an equally dextrous pace. \"My, my. This is 1311 words long.\" he then turned to the side and winked at something off in the distance.\n\nWink.\n\n\"Oh goody. I like this one!\" he said after a while. I looked up, rubbing my tear-stained eyes. A sickening smile had creased over his near-permanent scowl.\n\n\"Wh-what?\" I blurted.\n\n\"Finally, someone gets it. Good for you.\" he said nodding. I was astounded, shocked. I always knew I could do it! He raised one of his pinkish hands and folded the fingers inwards, if those absurdly sharp points could be called fingers. I assumed it was some sort of foreign congratulatory gesture and I tried to do the same. He laughed at my sheepish, nervous, jittery, pubescent attempt and clicked his fingers. The universe disappeared in a blink." ]	2
	[WP] Rome was not founded on the Tiber, but on the Mississippi.	[ "Janurius Davis sighed, long had his empire held out against the withering decay that had long split the empire.\n\nAn agreement had been struck, penned by the great George Caesar himself, to split the empire into two separate halves, to prevent it from collapsing under it's own weight.\n\nThe move had unfortunately been a mistake. Years of Canadian invasion had crippled the Northern Roman Empire. Even the construction of Jefferson's wall had done little to eb these attacks.\n\nEven after the fall of the Northern empire, life in the Southern empire had more or less continued as normal... until the Aztecs came.\n\nThe clash of the empires had been devastating to both sides... waves of Aztec Jaguars and Confederate Droman's rushed into each other. Blood ran like rain in the gutters of Texas. \n\nDespite taking heavy loses, the Aztecs did not falter for an instant. Janurius shuddered as he recounted the tale of Davius Crockett having his still beating heart yanked out on the alter of the Mars at the Alamo, when it finally fell.\n\nNow, in the waning days of the conflict... only Richmond remained. 1500 hundred years of Roman rule of the Americas was finally over. Janurius flinched as the doors of the palace were forced open.\n\nThe feared Cuauhtémoc entered the Confederate throne room and belted something in his native tongue at him. Janurius did not understand nor did he care, all that mattered was that his life and his empire were now forfiet.\n\n\"Well Canada, they're your and the Iroquois' problem now.\" He muttered to himself, as two burly Azteci jaguars grabbed him and forced him to the ground.\n\nHe didn't want to think about what Cuauhtémoc was about to do with that knife...", "Abdullah ibn Al-Merka could smell the land. His crew was obviously excited, they could smell it too. Al-Merka’s first officer, a loyal and fastidious man, warned the crew of the nearing Salat. The crew scrambled below decks and brought up their prayer rugs quickly before suppliantly bowing towards the stern of the ship, the general direction of Mecca. The ship was sailing east in search of the fabled Eastlands in a journey financed by the wealthy caliph of Gaul.\n\nAl-Merka’s task was to find this land, assess its use, and return with the information to trigger a new journey, much like the jihad that had overtaken Lesser Arabia, formerly known as Europa. The Africans of Mali and the recently-conquered Norsemen of the cold countries both claimed to have found a new land across the vast eastern sea. Al-Merka cold only pray to Allah that land would be found and he would live to return home to his son. \n\nWith the smell of land, Al-Merka knew his prayers had been answered. After the crew’s prayers were finished, the lookout excitedly scurried up the mainmast and into his perch. The sun had barely moved in the sky, before the hawk-eyed man yelled a cry of discovery. \n\nIt took several hours until details of the new lands could be discerned. Smoke gradually became visible, and eventually the masts of ships began to poke above the horizon like grass stalks. \n\nAl-Merka was confused at the sight of ships. But he was a cautious man who met confusion with wariness. He ordered the ship made battle-ready. Men furled the sails to protect the valuable cloth and the officers unlocked the weapon cabinets and distributed arms. The two cannon on board were prepared for battle and powder was brought up from below.\n\nThe men were tense and quiet as the ship drew near the source of the smoke and masts. It was a port consisting of small, thin boats lashed together with planks strapped across the surface to walk upon. These boats ran from the beach and were tied side-by-side in such a manner to make piers for the masted ships to dock upon. There lay docked on these piers ships that resembled the small thin boats, but much wider and larger with a single stout mast rising from them.\n\nThe vessels were unfamiliar to Al-Merka in appearance and construction. As they neared closer, Al-Merka saw that everything was unfamiliar and strange.\n\nThere was a commotion aboard shore as several of the inhabitants noticed Al-Merka’s strange ship. Men began assembling on shore in a line. They produced shields and weapons tipped with iron or steel, Al-Merka could not tell. Little did he know, the next three years would find him traveling a vast empire established by the natives of this land, stretching from the swampy southern lands to frigid north and from the peninsula in the southeast he had landed on to the great mountains across the western plains. These people were not quite as advanced as the Muslim civilization, but they were catching up quickly. \n\nIn a scientific endeavor commissioned by their leader, Taheyomingo, they had recently begun producing steel made from the iron mined in the extreme northeast corner of their empire.\n\nAs Al-Merka walked the streets of the great capital, Mississippi, where the leader had his palace and the Tribal Senate ruled on questions of state, he thought of what he would call this new land. What would he tell the caliph back home? Perhaps the caliph would name his land after its discoverer. \n\nMerka would be a great name for this place he thought, smiling.\n\n", "“Hail Cassius Missouris,” the old Senator’s grip held strong as he clasped my wrist in greeting. Clodius Dubuques owed me no honors. But like most retired politicians, he’d never stop campaigning. Clodius’s grip on me tightened as he slowly lowered himself into the hot spring-fed bath only releasing as he found a spot on the submerged bench. Thought this bathhouse was two bluffs and a long walk from his villa, Clodius proclaimed the healing benefits of the minerals of these muddy, bubbling waters.\n\nAlso like a good politician, he asked around of the men in the bath of our businesses, our wives and sons. I told Clodius of the winter’s takings at the far north end of the Mississippis. During Clodius’s tenure in the Senate, he had been a champion of the merchant class, keeping tax and tariffs low. And, by me, he was repaid in kind with some of the finer firs of my trappings.\n\n“What word of your son, Clodius?” I asked. Marcus Dubuques set out eight kalends ago with a legion marching westward down the Oreggian Way with orders to quell an uprising at the Denverine Peaks. \n\nClodius’s eyes brightened at the mention of his eldest, a general now and senator-in-waiting. “A courier had tales of the Western legions not three moons past. Denverine was easily quieted. Why the freedmen of the buffalo rebel against safety and society, I don’t know.” \n\nAn attendant of the bath, Aztecci by the bronze of his skin, worked oils into Clodius’s back as the patrician told of unrest further west.\n\n“Marcus pressed on after Denverine joined by three garrisons of the Platte. The claydwellers near Albuquerqus are in open revolt. The people in these arid lands had nothing but sand and huts of earth. Lived without laws, they did, without a respect for order, commerce, prosperity.” His tenor rising as it once had when he held the floor addressing the Senate and People, “no matter.” His hand making a wave in the bath as he figuratively eschewed the claydewllers from his mind. “Marcus will bring them to heel. March them to the Mississippis and on to the cotton and indigo fields of the south and east.” \n\nClodius reached up and slid the fabric of the blue cotton tunic worn by the Aztecci through his fingers. “There will always be a need for men at those tasks.” \n\nThe old senator closed his eyes and we enjoyed the remainder of our baths.", "Billy Bob Tiberius spit a big wad a chaw onto the ground. “Whoooo, doggy, Crispus Ray. Did you see that wreck?”\n\n“Shit, Billy Bob Tiberius, I never thought Dale Equitius was gonna pull off that win. I tell you, I love track day at Circus Maximus Tallidagus,” said Crispus Ray. He chugged the last of his wine and tossed the empty can onto the ground. \n\nThe two friends laughed as they left the track and walked out to the parking lot. “Damn, Crispus Ray. Is that your new chariot?” said Billy Bob Tiberius.\n\nCrispus Ray laughed and leaned against his new vehicle. “You bet your sunburned neck, it is.” He patted the side. “Jacked it up myself. This baby rides over two feet off the ground now.”\n\nBilly Bob Tiberius laughed. “Won’t get any of those libby Populares stuck under this baby.”\n\n“Did you hear about them barbarians coming from up north?” said Crispus Ray.\n\n“Sure did. Bunch of illegals want to come down here and steal our jobs. If we let a bunch of them Germanics here cleaning our Coliseums and picking our crops, we won’t have any kind of slave economy left,” said Billy Bob Tiberius. He spit another wad of chaw on the ground.\n\n“Damn, right. Those Yankee Senators want to make us pay our slaves a wage. It’ll ruin our economy.”\n\nBilly Bob Tiberius shook his head. “Fuckin’ Populares.” He spit on the ground once more. “Do you think Sabanus is going to sign another five years with Alabama football after this year?”\n\nCrispus Ray pumped his fist in the air. “Hell yeah! Whoooo, doggy. We’re sure to win the National Championship now that Scaevola is coming back as QB. Did you see we just recruited a four star Carthaginian running back? Hannibal Barca?”\n\nBilly Bob Tiberius and Crispus Ray hooted and hollered as they chugged their Vitta Hyacinthina Pabst wine. \n\nA group of well dressed men and women walked by Billy Bob Tiberius and Crispus Ray. They sneered at the two men and whispered amongst themselves. “Those two give us Southerners a bad name,” said one man.\n\n“Ignorant back water hicks. I hate that people think that’s what we sound and act like,” said one of the women. The others nodded in agreement.\n____________________\nThanks for reading! If you enjoyed this check out my subreddit /r/Puns_are_Lazy.\n" ]	4
	[WP] When we wake up, what happens to the people in our dreams?	[ "Every kiss seemed to draw the breath right out of me, yet I wanted more. If only I could truly taste the cherry red lips which teased and pulled at my own, demanding every ounce of me....I knew this was a dream, but this girl...no, this girl was real. I knew her, I knew I knew her even as I returned her nameless kisses, pulling and tugging, moaning and longing for more. Then she pulled away from me, and looked into my eyes. \n\n\"Arie,\" She said, her hazel green eyes arresting me, and I felt so peaceful when she said my name. \"Arie, I'm going to wake up now.\"\n\nPanic filled me, I grasped her slender hands in plea for her to stay. She leaned close against me, lips pressing against mine and convincing my eyelids to close. \n\nWhen I opened them, there was no difference in sight. Everything was dark, and her warmth was gone. I struggled, not to hold back tears, but to cry. I waited in limbo, perhaps reaching into her waking subconscious, but only ever truly alive in her sleep. The girl of her dreams..", "He couldn't control what he was saying, but something inside him told him that he would say the exact same thing if he could. She was a beautiful girl who was clearly of Hispanic descent, but he'd never met a Hispanic girl in real life before. He lived in Australia and not many Hispanics came around. Especially not in a tiny town like his. He didn't question the logic, however. At least not at the time. \n\nThere was no logic here. Just feelings. He couldn't even hear his own words clearly, but he could feel his mouth moving and he knew what he was telling her. He blurted out so many promises that wouldn't make sense to him if he were awake. She just nodded, and smiled, and she held his hands. They both looked at each other for the longest time, and he knew they were both thinking the exact same thing. \n\nHe felt everything despite just holding her hands. He could feel her blood under her skin, as it ran faster and faster every time he got a little closer or said something lovely. Their noses touched so often and eventually, he got the courage to press his lips to hers. They kissed for what seemed to be hours, days, or even years, and still, that didn't feel like enough. \n\nAnd suddenly, a chill came over him, and before he knew it, he jerked awake. He turned over in his bed and looked over at the clock next to his bed. It read 11 p.m. Had he really only been sleeping for 2 hours? \n\nOn the other side of the world, Northern Texas, to be more precise, a Hispanic girl shifted in her bed and woke up from afternoon nap. Those were the bluest eyes she'd ever seen, and she'd never felt that way before, but that was the only thing she could remember. Why couldn't that boy actually be real? ", "based on a dream I once had and names are modified into English names due to the story's aesthetics \n\nI came to school early because our class had elections for a class president. As always, Will applied since he was the president for three years and wanted a place for himself based on his old glory, even though we didn't like his \"reign of delaying-exams-because-I-didn't-study\". As I sat on my desc, looking around the room, seeing Will, Adda and Michael selling propaganda and cheap lies to the others, I noticed this new guy, well dressed (like a royal English family prince), good looking, blue eyed and calm. He was observing these three with a face of doubt and that \"are you fucking kidding me\" look. Now, I didn't know this guy since he's the new guy, but I came to him to warn him of these three. I stood up and walked next to him. \"Emmm, the're all full of crap, but I can see you already figured that out. Kevin, nice to meet you.\" He cleared that look on his face and threw a smile to greet me. \"Nice to meet you, Kevin, my name is Josh. I'm the new kid, but I can see you already figured that out haha\" And we got into talking. After a while, when the voting started he shouted \"STOP RIGHT THERE, YOU GUYS HAVE A NEW CHALLENGER\" and began talking against all three of them. When he started talking about Will, about how he doesn't know what responsibility is, Will got pissed and the debate began. Them two fought for over half an hour, and afterwords, Josh got elected as a new class president. \n\nWhen we were on a break, I walked with him and he started talking about himself, and he was an amazing person. He told me he switched a lot of schools because people didn't like him since he's weird and royal-looking (he kinda looked like one of those anime-students, with blue jacket and paired jeans, from Code Geass). He liked video games, arts, physics and lots of other stuff I did, and I grew to like him. A lot. And then, everything changed, like it often happens in a dream. \n\nWe went inside some elevator and came out on the floor looking like a giant warehouse, and that's where this metal panther attacked us. Josh pushed me inside the elevator, blocking panther's claws, and surged inside with me. We herd the panther scratching the elevator doors, but we managed to run away. And all of the sudden, we herd a loud bang on the roof of an elevator. Panther tried to come inside, and he succeeded. I was so afraid. We are going to die here, and I can't do anything to protect Josh. And while I was thinking that, Josh turned around and said, \"when the doors open, you run, and leave me. Ok?\" and that's when he started fucking transforming into a some kind of mutant or what ever that was, taking blows for the panther, protecting me. When elevator doors opened, I ran out, looking at him all of the time, yelling \"COME OUT, COME OUT, LEAVE HIM\" and I noticed I was inside of my uncle's building. Elevator doors started closing, and when they closed, trapping Josh and metal panther inside, I yelled as loud as I could, with tears in my eyes. I will never see Josh again. \n\nAnd I woke up. I sat on the edge of my bed, holding my head between my knees, thinking what happened with Josh. I don't care if that was a dream, that guy was real. I had a lot of dreams with a lot of people, but this one was a dream like no other. I could feel a hole in my heart like he is missing. I grew to like him in one school day. He stood up to Will, he saved me from a metal panther! I owe him my life and I can't do squat! I stood up, looked at the pillow and felt dried tears on my cheeks. I left my room, telling myself it was all just a dream. \n\n\n... \n\n\n\"Are you ok, Josh?\" \n\"I just... had this dream... I... had a friend, and I was... four armed, human-transforming-mutant-man of some sort and I fought against a metal panther.\" \n\"Haha, go back to sleep and try not to dream your imaginary boyfriend.\" \nHe continued his nap, thinking \"Who is Kevin and where is he, and why did he look so familiar?\"", "\"In the beginning times, there was the creator. And with him came the Chaos of the Void.\n\nHe appeared before the chaos of the void and he made sense from the madness. He formed a world from the infinite cosmos, and while it all rushed at him to be heard, he sought to make order from it.\n\nWhen he came there was no permanence. Death meant nothing to that which could not die, and without death, there could be no change. She lived as though She never died, and both her life and her death existed simultaneously and without each other, both clamoring for his attention.\n\nBut the creator cast the first law and let it be known with a thought that She was dead. And all the most terrible abominations that came out of the chaos after that had to bow and accept that in our world, She had died, She was dead, and She would never return.\n\nHe laid down more laws after that. He crafted St. Barnabas Elementary School, and he declared that it had passed. Likewise he made Alameda High School and the Chico State College, and though they all clamored with each other, all threw themselves at the present, he still put order to them. He declared that each came after the other and then passed into the history, all of them gone and vanished before She ever lived, irrelevant by the time that She died.\n\nHe crafted these laws, but while he stayed in our world, time was still fluid, the world still changing, and She tried constantly to return from the dead, to remind him of the before. No, to ensure the stability of our world, and the order of our lives, he left us, and with him went the madness. Without his presence, the Chaos of the Void slumbered, unable to do anything but grumble from far off in the Conscious.\n\nWhile he is gone we live in an ordered world. She is dead and she cannot return from death, and the laws are obeyed. But while we honor the Creator, we fear the day he returns, when the chaos is awakened, time is rendered mute and dumb, and all the Destruction of the Chaos comes riding forward to lay waste to our order, and She is at the front, unliving and undying, to wage eternal war against the Creator.\"" ]	4
	[WP] "Jack, you know what," Oswald said. "Your ‘real’ problem is your amazing ability to talk yourself out of opporunities."	[ "The assassin's quarter of hell and the celebrity district had an over lap lounge, to the surprise of no one that knew better.\n\nThe poker room was hot tonight. Gavrilo Princip was on a winning streak. The Solonas gal was down by a trillion some odd dollars (money is more affluent, and for more widely distributed in hell than you might [or even could] imagine). Hagan was was getting ready to deal out another hand when there was a thump on the table. \n\n\"Fuck it guys. I'm good for the night.\" Ruby smiled. He picked up his chips and walked away.\n\nAfter cashing out he went over to the milk bar to meet up with with Lee.\n\n\"Hey skeezix. I see your glass is just 'bout empty. Wanna drink on me?\"\n\nLee glared at him. \"Not if I was flat broke, in debt and a taste of booze could get me back to the coil rat fucker. I told ya once, I told ya a thousand times. I buy my own.\"\n\nRuby grinned. \"Suit'cher'self skeezix.\" He turned to J.E.R. \"Say, Ray O'Sunshine, how 'bout you? Do you wanna drink on me?\"\n\n\"A free drink from the man who plugged this pinko fuck? You bet Jacky boy!\" He turned to Corday \"Say baby, you ever met this cat? He's the one that plugged the commie pussy over here.\"\n\nCorday looked at Ruby, then she looked at Lee. \"I know not of your lives gentlemen. Perhaps one of you would be so kind as to tell me why I should want to know.\"\n\nRuby opened his mouth but before he could get a breath out, Lee was already talking. \"The simple thing is this; Jack-off-kilter over here walked into a police station full of cops and shot me dead in the gut while I was surrounded by United States Police Officers and being transferred to a federal prison to await trial for the accused murder of a US President.\"\n\n\"Accused nothing, you marxist fuck...\"\n\nLee cut him off. \"By the way, miss... I've not had the honor of introductions, but your reputation precedes you miss Corday (hope I'm pronouncin' that right). Anyway do you know who the big galoot next to you is?\"\n\nCorday raised an eyebrow and Lee went on. \"Do you know who Doctor Martin Luther King Jr. was?\"\n\nShe nodded. \"Oui. Though I'm not thinking it likely I'll ever see the man down here, I'm well aware of his great deeds.\"\n\nLee resumed. \"Well that right there... That's the vile piece of wannabe boo-j-waw-z or however your folk say it.. that's the servant of the powered class that shot and killed Dr. King in cold blood.\"\n\nAs the bar tender handed another whiskey and rye to J.E.R. Ruby noticed an icy tint to her eyes. It faded in less than a second. She looked at him. \"Is this true?\" He nodded. \"May I has a sip of your drink? \" J.E.R. handed her the glass and she took a sip then dumped it on the ground and spat the sip into Ruby's face. He was taken aback.\n\n\"Monsieur...\" she said coyly walking around Ruby \"I'd like to get some air. Would you care to join me for a cigarette?\" He smiled and walked out with her.\n\n****\n\nThe next morning at the coffee house in the basement Ruby saw Lee. He smiled at him. \"Hey skeezix. How'd you manage with the dame last night?\"\n\nLee grinned at him. \"It's Oswald. Ozzy to my friends. So to you, it's Oswald. Anyway... Jack, you know what,\" Oswald said. \"Your ‘real’ problem is? It's your amazing ability to talk yourself out of opportunities.\" Oswald patted Ruby on the shoulder and walked away whistling.\n\nRuby stood there for the longest time trying to figure out what the hell he meant.", "“Jack, you know what,” Oswald said. “Your ‘real’ problem is your amazing ability to talk yourself out of oppor(t)unities.”\n\n“Hey Oswald,” Jack replied, “If I wanted to lose a hundred bucks I’d go see your Mum.”\n“Easy boy, this isn't just your run of the mill antique G-shock watch. It’s said that once upon a time, the great and powerful wizard Stephen Hawking used this watch to ride the great space-time continuworm.”\n\n“Man, if I had a credit for everytime someone tried to sell me a genuine Hawking artefact I’d be living in the Equitorial Temperate Zone. How many people actually buy this crap Oswald? Last week you had Neil deGrasse Tyson’s knuckle bones which could foretell the collapse of an event horizon to within 5 picosecs. This garbage isn’t worth my time to talk about it.”\n\n“Hey, that hurts Jack. I’m a born Antiquimancer, all I need is a few bucks to get into the college and prove myself. Collecting this “garbage” is going to get me that ticket. Sure it may not come in its original packaging, but there’s nothing to say it’s not the real, authentic, one hundred per cen… Oh shit, it’s the cops. Run man, that things hot.”\n\nWith that, Oswald sprinted back down the corridor, leaving the watch in Jack’s hands. With no time to think, Jack jammed it in his pocket and took off in the opposite direction. Working his way back to the Central Thoroughfare he blended into the crowd and tried to act casual as he watched the hovercars fly overhead. Before he knew it, he was back on the path to Sector Four’s Northern Domicile Precinct. Heading into the nearest guarana shop he ordered a steaming cup and settled down at a free table.\n\nPulling the watch out of his pocket, he had no idea what he should do. Surely no one would care about some cheap knock off. As he turned it through his hands he thought about tossing it in the recyclomat with his cup. Pushing down on a button labelled “LIGHT”, the face of the unit suddenly came to life. Staring at the outdated LCD technology didn’t do much for its appeal, the time wasn’t even set correctly. Racking his databanks, he pulled up the original specs to see how to set the time.\n\nIt was as he began to push down the button labelled “MODE” that it happened. The world around him began to shimmer, as though reality itself was unravelling. Within seconds, he was surrounded by nothingness. Not even his body existing, as though he were somehow pure conscience only.\nOut of the nothingness something formed. Jack had no idea what it was, other than it wasn’t nothing. In front him, if he could be considered to have a front, the something coalesced into the face of a giant, psychedelic coloured worm.\n\n“Hello good sir, I am the great space-time continuworm, but you can call me Stanley.”\n\nedit formatting* sorry, first post\n\n", "Jack was left wide-eyed by the arrogant blooms. Taking a leisure stroll with an unusual spring in his step. Today, the grass seemed greener, and everyone's eyes looked slightly slanted upwards as they were held up high by the ends of their wide smiles.\n\nIt was a bit warm to get coffee in the middle of the day, but Jack had nothing better to do. He entered the cafe as usual, though he wasn't greeted by his usual barista. His usual barista was a sweet girl named Sarah. She had a pale complexion, and a likable, crooked smile. Instead he was greeted by a balding middle-aged man who seemed nice enough.\n\n“Afternoon sir, “ He smiled, “What can I get you?”\n\n“ Just a black drip, short” Jack replied.\n\nThe barista began making Jack’s coffee. He moved with a content focus, while working at a steady pace. The café was empty and he seemed at ease. Halfway, as the cup was being filled, Jack remembered a forgotten a detail.\n\n“ Is it too late to add a shot of expresso?” Jack blurted awkwardly.\n\nThe barista became still, continuing to pour the coffee. The scorching liquid began to flow over the cup, and started to spill over his clenched bare hands. He remained unfazed, somehow ignoring the pain of the blistering seer. His face went blank and all emotion flushed from his eyes.\n\nHe slowly peaked his head over his shoulder, and locked eyes with an anxious Jack.\n\n“Could you say that again?” \n\nJack stood silent and confused.\n\n“ Could you say that again?” He repeated louder, with obvious agitation.\n\n“ A shot of…expresso?” Jack muttered shakily.\n\nGrabbing the closest object to him, the enraged barista hurled a dense porcelain mug at Jack’s small head. He launched himself over the counter and in a blinding rage unleashed a series of vicious stomps along Jack’s head, neck, and ribs.\n\nAfter wiping the blood off his sketchers the barista composed his thoughts, then dragged dead Jack to the café’s basement.\n\nGrabbing his grandfather’s old cattle prod, the barista set out to satisfy his anger. Though Jack was already dead, he wanted to see him even more disfigured than he already was.\n\nBut somehow, in all luck, Jack was resurrected into a cold sweat as five thousand volts of electricity pulsed through his still heart. He woke to an erratic madman of a barista standing over him. His eyes bulged from their sockets, and his lower lip quivered as he spewed incoherent rambles.\n\nThen he smiled.\n\n“Second chances, huh? I wouldn’t mind seeing a fuck like you die again. So tell me. Repeat whatever the fuck you told me earlier you piece of shit. Let’s see if you’ll get it this time.”\n\n“What the fuck do you want from me man? What did I do? What did I-“ Jack gurgled as he choked on his own blood.\n\n“You shut your fucking mouth! The day I decide to come in and work at my café, after six years, and a fuck like you brings it all back. How much ignorance can I endure? How the fuck does Sarah take it? You tell me what you asked earlier, I’m giving you this one chance.”\n\n“What? Can I get some fucking expresso?” Jack cried out with a desperate sarcasm.\n\nThe barista shook his head. He stood and delivered one last thunderous stomp to Jack’s mouth. And darkness.\n\nThen, in his final spark of consciousness-\n\nIt was when Jack died the second time, that he realized his mistake." ]	3
Bonus points if it's a western.	[WP] " Here friend, take a drink and tell me your tale." "It seems I just got out of a violent gunfight" "Woah, how'd you survive? " " That's the thing, I don't think I did. "	[ "Neon beer signs reflected off the old-fashioned jukebox sitting in the corner playing an old country song. The tinny music filled the smoky room with a soft, annoying buzz that the few patrons slouched around the place did their best to ignore. Will stood in front of the jukebox staring at the song list without much interest. Country music wasn’t his style. After scanning through the songs one last time, he turned his back on the machine and looked around the mostly empty bar with little more enthusiasm than he had for the jukebox. Having nothing better to do, he sighed in resignation and made his way over to one of the bar stools with the least duct tape holding it together.\n\nThe bartender finished wiping the mug in his hands. The same mug he’d been cleaning for the last five minutes. He put the mug on the counter behind him, draped his towel over his shoulder, and walked down to stand across from Will.\n\n“Evening,” he said, his eyes showing no more interest than his voice conveyed. “What’ll it be?”\n\nWill scratched his shoulder and looked around like a man in a daze. Nobody else was at the bar. The few people at the tables and booths around the room nursed their drinks, paying no attention to what was going on. Will looked up at the bartender and cleared his throat.\n\n“I … I’m not sure,” he said.\n\n“You’re not sure what you want to drink?” the bartender asked.\n\n“I’m not sure about anything,” Will said.\n\nThe bartender considered Will for a moment, then turned and grabbed an unlabeled green bottle from behind the bar. He dropped a couple ice cubes into a short glass, and added a generous splash of the clear liquid from the green bottle.\n\n“Here friend,” he said, putting the glass in front of Will. “Take a drink and tell me your tale.”\n\nWill watched the glass in front of him with no more enthusiasm than he had for anything in the bar. With a shrug, he took a sip of the drink, holding it on his tongue and letting the alcohol vapors clear his head. He swallowed, feeling the burn as the liquid flowed down his throat. He concentrated on breathing for a moment, until the throat closing effects of the alcohol passed. Will looked at the bartender with a little more alertness.\n\n“It seems,” said Will, “I just got out of a violent gun fight.”\n\n“Whoa,” said the bartender. He picked up the green bottle and replaced what Will had taken from the glass. “How’d you survive?”\n\n“That’s the thing,” Will said. He held the glass between his palms, slowly rotating it back and forth, feeling the chill of the ice settle into his hands. “I don’t think I did.”\n\nThe bartender raised an eyebrow as Will took another drink. “You don’t think you did,” he replied, crossing his arms and leaning back on the counter. “What makes you say that?”\n\n“I don’t know,” Will said, lifting the glass to his lips. He took a larger sip. “I don’t remember much about it, or about anything really. It’s more of a feeling than anything else.”\n\n“What do you remember?”\n\n“It’s hazy. I remember hearing gunshots all around me. A lot of screaming. That’s it. The next thing I remember, I was standing here staring at your jukebox with all the shitty country songs.”\n\nThe bartender snorted and shook his head. Will couldn’t tell if it was amusement or disdain.\n\n“If you didn’t survive, how can we be having this conversation? How can you be sipping my booze if your six feet under?”\n\n“Damn fine question,” Will replied, taking another drink.\n\nThe bartender looked at him for a while, then leaned in on his elbows to look Will in the eye.\n\n“What would you say if I told you that you came in here,” the bartender said, gesturing to the back of the room “and sat in that corner booth for half an hour before going to jukebox and coming here for a drink?”\n\n“Bullshit,” Will said without hesitation. “This is the last place I would ever come. No offense.” The bartender just nodded his head, and Will continued. “I never go out by myself, and when I do go out it’s not to a bar. I don’t even drink.” Will chuckled as he saluted the bartender with his glass and contradicted himself by downing the rest of his drink. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in a place like this.”\n\n“Interesting choice of words,” the bartender said. “So what’s keeping you here?”\n\n“Damned if I know,” Will said. He got up, threw a few bills from his wallet onto the bar, and headed for the door. He put his hand against the door and pushed, but the door didn’t budge. Will stared at the door, dumbfounded. The hand plate clearly said “Push” above it. Will leaned into the door, putting all his weight into it, but it refused to move.\n\n“You can’t get out that way,” the bartender said calmly from the bar.\n\n“What do you mean?”\n\n“You can’t go out the same way you came in,” he said with a shrug. “Sorry. House rules.”\n\nWill looked back at that bartender in confusion. “How do I get out?”\n\nThe bartender refilled the empty glass on the bar, and gestured will to the empty stool. “Here friend,” he said. “Take a drink and listen to my tale.”\n\nWill walked woodenly back to the bar and took his seat. His hand shook slightly when he picked up his glass. After he took another drink, the bartender reached down and pulled a plain wooden box from under the bar. When he opened it, will saw that it was filled with hundreds of keys of all shapes and sizes.\n\nThe bartender picked up a handful of keys and let them slide out of his hand back into the box. “To get out, you have to use one of these keys.” He pointed to the back of the room at the end of the bar. “Each one will open that door.”\n\n“If they all open the door,” Will said slowly, “why are there so many?”\n\n“Because a man’s got to have choices.”\n\n“Choices,” Will repeated.\n\n“A man’s life is made up of choices,” the bartender said. “Some good, some bad. Those choices define a man. Tell what he’s made of. So now, you have a choice. You have to choose which key you use to open that door. Some choices are good, some choices are bad.” The bartender leaned in and fixed Will with a serious look. “Choose.”\n\nWill swallowed as the bartender glared at him. He reached out and pushed the keys around. Will dug into the box of keys, trying to find the bottom. His arm went in to the wrist, the elbow and finally the shoulder without ever touching to bottom of the box. The bartender stood unmoving, watching as Will felt around in the box. Finally, Will closed his hand around a key, and drew it out. The key was silver colored, and looked like nothing more than any other door key in the world.\n\n“What do I do now,” Will asked.\n\n“That’s up to you,” the bartender said. He closed the box and put it back beneath the bar, then picked up an empty mug and started polishing it with his towel. “You can stay here as long as you like. Stay here until you’re good and sick of it, if that’s what you want.” He waved his hand towards the others in the bar. “Stay here with the others who haven’t made up their mind to leave yet.”\n\n“Where will the door take me?”\n\n“I can’t say that I know,” the bartender said without looking from his work. “But you’ve made your choice. You’ve made all of your choices. Can’t change any of them now. The only choice left now, is when you leave.”\n\nThe bartender walked away from Will, still polishing the mug. Will watched him for a while, then stared at the key in his hand. He looked at the pathetic souls sitting alone at their tables and looking at nothing but the glasses in front of them. He didn’t want to stay here.\n\nTaking a deep breath, Will gripped the key tightly in his fist and got off the barstool. Nervous sweat ran down his face as he resignedly made his way to the door at the back of the bar. He had to make a focused effort to stop his hands shaking and finally got the key into the lock on the fourth try.\n\nWith the key in place, the frame around the door glowed softly. For a long time, Will stood there holding the key in the lock, trying to remember his life and the choices he had made. Were there more good choices or bad? Will didn’t know. He couldn’t remember anything about his life other than what he’d told the bartender.\n\nWill turned the key in the lock. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and pushed through the door.\n", "\"Here friend, take a drink and tell me your tale.\"\n\n\n\"It seems I just got out of a violent gunfight.\"\n\n\n\"Woah, how did you survive?\"\n\n\n\"That's the thing, I don't think I did.\"\n\n\nThe man lurched forward, slamming his head onto the counter. His hand fell loose, blood smearing the seat. Behind the counter, I couldn't see it very well, but he had two bullet holes beneath his lungs, just to the side. Clutching his side, he took a sip of beer. Foam stuck to his thick mustache.\n\n\n\"So, bartender. What is a dying man to do?\"\n\n\nI looked at him quizzically. \"Call the local surgeon, doctor, hope for the best.\"\n\n\nHe smiled and took a long draw of the mug, emptying half of the contents.\n\n\n\"Hope. You might want to find me priest beerman.\"\n\n\nHe began with a low chuckle. Continuing weakly, he said \"I came looking for a fella by the name of Johnsie Williams, the head of the Local Bowlers Gang, notable for kidnapping children and ransoming them back to their families.\"\n\n\nHe finished the mug. \"'nother one please. A dying man's story ain't worth a horse shit if it ain't complete.\"\n\n\nI poured him a fresh glass of the blonde stuff. \"Please, go on.\"\n\n\n\"Well, my daughter's a nice looking one, don't mind tell people that. Maybe shouldn't have told everyone, but she come into town, but she don't come back. That night, I got my rifle, kissed my wife and headed out to find her. I find she been taken from herself while flirtin' with the stablemaster by Johnsie and his gang. I load up with enough to take out an army.\"\n\n\nHe chugged the next beer and wavered off my attempt to pour another.\n\n\n\"I wander around, kept on wanderin'. Then one day, a man comes up to me asks me something funny. Says, 'you looking for a good lookin' woman or your daughter?' Then I says to him, 'Just me pride and offspring.' Then he starts laughing up a storm, like he knows something better. I pull my gun on him, he keeps on laughin' like a donkey at church.\"\n\n\nClutching his side, he leans in closer. \"So, I says to him, what you gonna' tell me next is something you might want to think real hard about. Next thing you know, I'm surroundin' by guys. They pull a fast one and start shootin' up the place around me feet. So I reply with the butt of the gun on the guy's forehead.\"\n\n\n\"You didn't!\"\n\n\n\"I did! I swear I did. That got their attention real good. So I raise my gun, pull out my rifle with my left arm and say, boys! We got a live one here! They back off, and take their wounded. But 'fore long, I see this one single cowboy, off the distance, riding a red horse, with a gold hat. Johnsie. Soon as he got into range, I shot him down like a shot of bourbon!\"\n\n\n\"So they say!\"\n\n\n\"They do say so indeed! Everyone starts shootin' and people get killed, and heaven save me, I ride out of there untouched. I ride all the way to this lil' town here, get me self a good bed and warm blanket.\"\n\n\n\"Then how did you get all torn up?\"\n\n\n\"Figured those bandits woulda' found me soon. So I battled them, all at once. And here I am, for your to see.\"\n\n\n\"A dying man's tale. Tell me Sir, do you smell that?\"\n\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\n\"I smell cherries. Juice.\"\n\n\n\"Do you? I don't think you've got your nose on right today o'fella.\"\n\n\n\"You know what the great thing is about that story?\"\n\n\n\"Make it snappy barman, I'm about to die.\"\n\n\n\"Rightfully so. You shot the sheriff. I'm Johnsie.\"", "\"Wow, you look like hell, what happened buddy.\"\n\n\"I'll tell you, in exchange for a shot of whiskey.\n\nI reached underneath the bar and pulled out two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey. We weren't too busy around here, and being the owner, I was allowed certain liberties. I poured him a shot.\n\n\"Well it all started about a year ago. I was part of a gang that went on a spree down south. Me and about three others. Billy got hit during the raid and that left Joe and I. That was until Joe took a chunk out of my leg with his repeater.\"\n\n\"Ain't that something, what did you end up doing.\"\n\n\"Well, I almost bled out then and there. However, I survived and swore I'd hunt him down and get what's mine.\"\n\n\"Well good luck with that. It's a neat story, you might actually make a bit writing one of those books.\"\n\n\"Yeah, well I was stupid to hunt him, I see that now.\"\n\n\"Why you say that?\"\n\n\"I just met him in the back alley and got into a gunfight.\"\n\n\"What, that was you making that ruckus, how'd anyone survive.\"\n\nJust as I asked one of the regulars walked in and ordered up a bottle of whiskey.\n\n\"That's the thing, I don't think I did.\"\n\n\"What?\" I turned around to watch him slump over my bar. Two red stains growing on the front of his shirt.", "Disclaimer: I am not very good at writing but I love this subreddit so I thought I would give it a go. Please be gentle\n\n\n\"You dont think you survived?\" The bartender chuckled. \"What do you mean by that?\"\n\n\"I don't know, it's this weird feeling, I guess.\" \n\nJohn took a sip of his drink. He felt a bit more refreshed as the cool drink splashed to the back of his throat. It was the same drink that he had always ordered at that dive-bar on the corner. The name of the drink escaped him.\n\n\"Tell me about this feeling you are having,\" said the bartender.\n\n\"It's hard to explain,\" John replied.\n\n\"Well start by telling me what happened tonight, Ill see if I can help.\"\n\nJohn didnt know exactly what this feeling was, a feeling of unease. But somehow, he felt comforted by the bartender who stood before him. He was a tall, slender man who wore the same attire he had seen many other bartenders wear. Jeans and a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He had short brown hair and some slight stubble. \n\nThe way he spoke to John reminded him of his father. The only person in John's life who was able to calm and control him, following the passing of his mother. This may have been why John was so quick to open up to this unknown bartender.\n\n\"Well, tonight was like any other night. I was sitting at home, watching something on Netflix...I think.\" John squinted his eyed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying hard to remember.\n\n\"Everything ok?\" asked the bartender.\n\n\"Yeah, it's just a little fuzzy.\"\n\n\"Take your time.\"\n\nJohn took another sip from his drink, \"Oh yeah, then my phone rang. IT was my buddy Chris, wanting to know if I had any more co-,\" John stopped himself as he cut his eyes to the bartender, \"he wanted to see if I wanted to hangout.\"\n\n\"That's nice, he a good friend of yours?\" asked the bartender.\n\n\"Yeah, I mean, I guess. We've known each other for a few years.\"\n\n\"Where did you meet him?\"\n\n\"In college, sophomore year.\"\n\nJohn shifted in his seat. \"Everything Ok?\" the bartender asked again.\n\n\"Yeah, just brought up some bad memories.\"\n\n\"Like what?\" the bartender asked.\n\nJohn hesitated; he had not talked to many people about what happened his Sophomore year of college. It was a tough time in his life and it did not cast him in the best light. But, for some reason John felt at ease when he looked at the bartender, who was polishing drink glasses with a small cloth. John took another sip of his drink.\n\n\"Growing up, I always played sports. Football in particular,\" John began, \"and after my mother passed away when I was young, I dedicated all I had to the sport. I ended up playing the sport through high school and even into college.\" \n\n\"That's great, I'm sure your father is proud.\" said the bartender with a gentle smile on his face.\n\n\"He was proud,\" John stated.\n\n\"Was?\"\n\n\"Yeah, up until my sophomore year. I injured myself and had to give up the sport.\" said John as he lowered his gaze, saddened.\n\n\"I'm sorry to hear that, but why would your father not be proud still? I mean, it's not your fault you got injured,\" said the bartender, attempting to cheer John up.\n\n\"It wasn't the injuring myself that did it, it was what I did after.\" \n\nJohn stopped and looked up at the bartender, expecting a response. But one never came. He just stood there, gazing at John, waiting for him either to continue or stop rehashing his past. John continued.\n\n\"When I gave up the sport, I was depressed. My whole life was done in my mind. So I did whatever I could to help ease the pain. Partied, drank heavily, experimented with drugs. That's when I met-\" \n\n\"Chris?\" The bartender interrupted.\n\n\"Yeah. I was at a party and was looking for someone who could score me some weed. That's when I was introduced to Chris.\"\n\n\"I see.\" said the bartender.\n\n\"Yeah, he ended up being the guy I always called to get my fix. We actually became friends...well as good of friends as a drug dealer and depressed college student could be.\" John let out a broken chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. The bartender just waited, and listened.\n\n\"Eventually Chris started to take me him on deliveries. He said that it was always safer to have someone with him when he had to deliver large amounts.\"\n\n\"Then what happened,\" asked the bartender.\n \n\"Not long after I started to help Chris in his business, my father found out what I was doing. He was very upset with me and wanted to know why I would do that. He wanted me to stop. But all I did was lash out and blame him for everything.\" \n\nJohn fell silent. The thought of his father and how he worried about John's safety brought tears to his eyes. Instead of talking to his father like he always did, he met him with anger and resentment that night. Before he became lost in his thoughts, the bartender spoke.\n\n\"So is that why Chris called you tonight?\"\n\n\"huh? Um....yeah. He said he needed to get this delivery done tonight but was not gonna be able to make it. So he asked if I would take it instead.\"\n\n\"Did you?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"Alone?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"Mhmm,\" the bartender muttered as he turned to put up the polished glasses on the shelf. \"So what happened when you went?\"\n\n\"Nothing at first. It seemed like a typical delivery. I met the client in a somewhat public place to exchange money for product. But..\" John paused.\n\n\"But, What,\" asked the bartender.\n\n\"When I got there, the guy seemed....different. Almost as if he was nervous or something. Either way, it wasn't right.\"\n\n\"Did Something happen?\" The bartender asked.\n\n\"I think...I cant really remember everything. All I can remember is him saying that I'm not his usual guy and that I look like a cop. After that its kind of just fades out. And then I ended up here.\" \n\n\"that's unfortunate,\" said the bartender. He was looking at John with what seemed disappointment. The same look that his father would give him when he did something bad as a kid.\n\nJohn looked down into his almost empty glass and began to mumble.\n\n\"I shouldn't have gone,\" John said \"I should have just listened to my father that night. I should have just told him what was bothering me.\"\n\n\"I hear that a lot,\" said the bartender\n\n\"What?\" John was confused.\n\n\"Lot of people come through hear talking bout the past and how they wish they could take it all back.\"\n\n\"Yeah, and what do you say to them?\"\n\n\"I tell them it's not too late to start.\"\n\nYeah, I guess your right.\" John turns up his glass to finish off his drinkas the bartender begins to speak.\n\n\"Glad that you are seeing things clear.\" \n\nAs he takes the last gulp he exhales into the glass, still held in front of his face. \n\n\"What was that,\" John asked.\n\n\"CLEAR!\"\n\nThe loud yell startled John, making him through himself back in his chair, tipping backwards and falling to the ground. He hit with a hard thud, instantly causing a pain in his chest. Eye clinched shut from the pain, he reached to clutch his chest. As he reached, he was greeted by a hand. It was a firm hand. It was callused and dry; not the same as the bartender's who he had been speaking to for what seemed like a lifetime. No, this hand belonged to someone else. Someone John had known for a long time. John opened his eyes. He was at the local hospital. Confused, he turned to see who this hand belonged to. When he did, he saw a man with a scruffy beard and tears in his eyes.\n\n\"Dad,\" John said as tears began to fill his eyes, \"Are you ok?\"\n\nJohn's father smiled, weeping as he leaned in, wrapping his arms around John's neck. \n\n\"I am now, Son.\"\n\n\n", "“Oh yeah? How can you be sure?” The person on the bar stool buying the drink asks as the bartender slides over a beer.\n\n“I mean there was the blacking out and waking up here part. There were a lot of shots from the sheriff, and I think maybe one hit me, but that’s not the main reason.” I tell my new found confidant.\n\n“Then what’s the real reason.” He asks, acquiring a beer himself.\n\n“I don’t think I wanted to survive.” I tell him. I pause, expecting him to freak out or look for the sheriff to call, or spit take his beer, or at least frown. He doesn’t do any of these things. He merely sips his beer and watches me casually as if I’m regaling him with a funny anecdote about a couple chickens chasing a dog. “See, I’ve been prairie dogging this area for a while now. I find a quiet place that hasn’t seen a lot of robbery in a while. I look around to see where there’s money, maybe a bank, maybe a mine, maybe just cattle, and you hit’em when they least expect it.”\n\n“Seems to be a sound method of operation.” The stranger sipping his beer says. He is very aptly named a strangeer, because his reaction is not at all what I expected. I can understand the bartender not say something, that’s kind of his job, and the other patrons of this establishment were probably out of earshot, especially with the piano going, but this guy was hearing me loud and clear. Surely the average person did not respond in such a manner to a claim of death and a life of crime, but his non-judgmental attitude spurs me on. “So what happened this time cowboy? I expect a criminal of your caliber is not tripped up by just some regular old sheriff. I reckon it would take some federal marshals to bring you down.”\n\n“That’s the thing, like I said. I kind of didn’t want to make it. This time I was hitting up a cattle farm, not the most profitable, but if you can make off with a couple good steers the money is still decent. Everything is going alright, and then I look back, big mistake looking back. I see this old lady with her five young kids standing on the porch, not saying anything, not calling for help, just looking at me. I don’t know if the father was dead or just no there at the time, but I knew when I drove those cattle away that I was starving at least a family of five. It got me to thinking. How many other young families have I starved that were just trying to get by. I started doing the math on how much money I stole, how much everything I had taken was all worth, and the number of people was higher than you and I could count on both sets of our feet and hands.” I take a large swig from my beer.\n\n“That’s what did me in I figure. I didn’t turn myself in, but I made a stupid mistake. I went back to hit the bank, same town. Everybody knows you don’t hit the same place twice in less than 24 hours. Sure enough the sheriff was waiting, and we go to shootin’ at each other, and well, here I am.” I take another large swig of my beer. “So you tell me stranger, what’s going on.”\n\nThe stranger puts his beer down and leans back.\n\n“Well partner you probably got your bearings by now, so I’ll just keep this brief. You ain’t in heaven as there ain’t no angels, and you ain’t in hell because there ain’t no demons either. So where does that leave you?” I remember a preacher talking about a place like this a while back.\n\n“Purgatory?” I ask. The stranger nods his head.\n\n“So what am I doing here and who are you if you’re not an angel?”\n\n“You are here son because I bet if I told you the almighty was right outside you’d hide your head in shame for what you done. As for who am I? Let’s just say I’m the guy whose going to sit here buying you beers until you forgive yourself for what you done so you can look the almighty in the eye when you move on out.”\n\nSidenote: I’ve written like three of these along similar lines in the last week. I think this is a trend." ]	5
I feel like this is a very brought topic that relates to alot of people while it can get very specific as this is suppose to be something that is very intense	[WP] What does it feel like to be in love	[ "Tears can't describe what came from that face. \nPure unfiltered sorrow. \nSorrow that carried a depth deep enough to murder. \nTension wasn't enough to explain the force that erupted between us. \nMadness so dense, \nSo fiery, \nA mere man would turn to tinder. \nI'm stone cold. \nWas i crazy enough to fall? \nNO! \nIt was weightless. \nThe word meant nothing to me now, \nOver cooked and sauced with a full serving of lies. \nReaped my jacket from its den, \nI dealt the door a final seal. \nThe journey downward nearly broke me, \nAs the wails of that banshee echoed in those shadowy halls. \nMere dusk as I escaped. \nGreeted by the fellowship, \nThe people I die for. \nMy eyes told the tale. \nNo words spoken. \nNothing else mattered, \nMy friends \nFor this night, \nWe drink. \n\n", "My heart aches, \nbut it is not sorrow that plagues it, nor is it plagued for a longing of things lost. The sickness that pesters and possesses my chest from the top of my head to the tips of my toes is a force much greater than that of darkness.\nThis brightest of lights, that has taken control of every fiber of my being is that of love. The mere sight of her spawns it in me, her scent so infectious fills me with it and the feel of her touch sends tremors of it to every nerve in my body, so that none shall be left unaffected by her power.\nFate has suffered on to me this sickness in its cruel attempt to wake from my solitary slumber.\nI do not want for words to share with her this thing that I speak of, if only my voice had not been silenced by her visage. I want her, I need her. The only heaven I want for is her presence, the only cure for this ache is her. But she is gone, her face now lost amongst the crowd. This world is alien to me, how could fate betray me so.\n", "You're sitting in a darkened movie theater, your partner beside you. It's date night, just like every Thursday, at least when you find the time. You don't hold hands, but when both of you reach into the popcorn at once, you give each other's fingers a playful squeeze. The screen before you lights up with the first scene of the latest epic movie that everyone has been talking about incessantly for weeks. The film has action, it has drama, and it has a love story. \n\nThe love story is somewhat shoehorned into the plot, but it's there. Two star-crossed, absurdly beautiful people, fated to be together and then not anymore. You know logically that the movie's score is manipulating your feelings. You can step outside yourself and analyze the sweeping vistas and top-notch special effects that push the plot along. But you still can't resist being drawn, inexorably, into the storyline unfolding before you: the story of the two ill-fated lovers with perfect, perfect hair.\n\nYou hear your partner giggle beside you when something funny happens in the script. The sound makes you smile. Once or twice, you hear a gasp, a visceral reaction to the film's rising action. Near the end of the movie, you hear a sniffle, then another. The protagonist and his lady friend are being torn apart by plot devices, and the result is a cinematic tragedy. It's a sadness that you usually observe from a detached perspective; isn't that unfortunate, you would usually think. But today, something is different. As you watch the on-screen couple say goodbye, a lump forms in your throat. You swallow. You reach for more popcorn and your fingers graze the warmth of your partner's hand. This time, for reasons you aren't quite sure of, you take the hand in yours and hold it, your fingers interlacing.\n\nYou inhale deeply, your gaze steady on the screen. The lump in your throat grows. For a brief, terrifying moment, you picture yourself as the movie's hero, the one who is losing his love. The love he's worked so hard and so futilely to preserve. The hand you're holding curls into yours like a kitten snuggling up for a nap. It feels familiar, like trust. Like home. \n\nAs the credits roll, you think: I get it now.", "A Woman's Name.\n\n--\n\nMy heart did not grow lighter, as I then sat down beside her.\n\nThe woman of my dreams and of my love,\n\nFor her voice was like the dew, and it was then I truly knew,\n\nThat to stay but silent would have been my rue.\n\n--\n\nOh maiden fair with the raven hair, with emerald eyes beyond compare,\n\nJust lean to me and whisper but your name.\n\nFor your looks they do enchant me, and your words they do entrance me,\n\nAnd I fear I might have fallen for your snare.\n\n--\n\nSo have pity on the fool, who lets love and beauty rule,\n\nFor lesser reasons, lesser men have abdicate.\n\nIn that dress I see you bow, my true love I can avow,\n\nBut content I’ll be to know your name for now.\n" ]	4
Meant to put he/she but forgot. My bad.	[WP] Friends of a hero slowly watch as he becomes a villain.	[ "He and his sidekicks are fighting some strong villain, his best friend dies, his friend is the only person able to truly stop the bad guy. Starts reseaching ways to bring him back to life. Starts stealing equipment from labs all over the world. Uses excuses to defend himself stealing things. Starts experimenting on the villains henchman, claiming that \"they've done worse things to other people, and they dont really deserve mercy because they would show none is the roles were reversed. Not enough henchman to finish research. Starts using innocent civilians. Starts researching other things to make himself stronger all the while trying to solve death itself. Solves death, but doesnt resurrect his best friend, just keeps studying to get stronger. Resurrects best friend, but has him under his control. Defeats \"villain\", but takes over because it would be a waste to not take his \"business\". Is bad guy. Edit:This is really only a rough draft, I'll try to actually finish it later.", "It was that look in his eye. Like someone blew a candle out and all that was left was the dark. Ever since that day, when the city was made to ruin, he wasn't the same. I've been there. I've always been there. I remember when those eyes use to smile when Sasha would just steal a glance at him.\n \nHeck, I remember the day we first met. It was in the summer after our junior year in high school. I was walking towards my car when this kid with glasses and the darkest head of hair kicked angrily at his car that was next to mine. Some asshole slashed his tires. I had a spare tire in my trunk so I just gave it to him. The look in his eyes you would've thought that he won the lottery. We got along great after that. \n\nIf I had to describe Tom, it would be difficult. The best you can do to explain Tom would be to just watch. It wasn't what he said but what he did that defined him. Not many paid attention to him, after all, who would pay attention to the kid who walks the halls like a ghost. Yet, those who paid attention knew he was a good man.\n\nSo when the day came when he told me about the meteor falling near his home and he began to fly I was probably happier then he was because he was happy. I saw him save lives and he would tell me all these grand stories. I couldn't think of anyone better to be our protector then good ole Tommy.\n\nSometimes, we go out of town and go to the fields. I would take my sketch pad and draw crop circles. Tommy would fly like the wind and my crude drawing would become reality. We had the city convinced for a month that there was UFOs, but UFO watchers spotted Tommy in the act and he became well known. \n\nHe would fight crime and no one would dare test their chances against Tommy, after all he was a real life super hero. That is until September, about 5 years after we met. \n\nWe went out to the fields again for old times' sake. I drew my crop circle with my fancy sketch pad that I got for art school and Tommy it brought to life. Then a flash, towards the east. I looked and I saw as a great wind crashed into the two of us. Then a mushroom cloud. \n\nEveryone was dead. My mother who was at the grocery store picking up milk. Mr. Tanner who was helping old Mrs. Whitaker take out the trash. The little boy who would ride his tricycle in front of Tommy's house. Sasha, who was attending her own baby shower with Tommy's first child inside her. I know because Tommy and I looked for ourselves with our own eyes now red from looking at what use to be our city. \n\nTommy found who was responsible of course, but that did not console his fury even after he ripped that villain apart into two pieces right in front of my very own eyes. I looked in shock, my mouth open in a silent scream. I looked into Tom's eyes, and I saw that my best friend was gone. From that point forth, that stranger that inhabited Tom's body decided that he would never let this happen again and he would be the ultimate judge. Pretty soon, he made a name for himself across the world, one that even the innocent feared. \n\nSo, when I looked into his eyes today, as I stabbed the man who declared himself a god, I only wished that Tommy knew that what I did was for the greater good. That the world would know peace and be freed from the monster that was born in front of my eyes.\n\n", "\"I took down the Duelist with my bolos, but he happened to be standing at the top of the stairs when it happened. He fell and cracked his skull, killing him instantly. How tragic.\"\n\n\"Are you kidding me? You're not even trying to hide it any more.\"\n\n\"What's wrong, Nighthawk? It was an accident.\"\n\n\"Shadowman, this thing where every supervillain you don't like suffers an 'unfortunate accident' has to stop.\"\n\n\"I don't see what you're getting at.\"\n\n \"Look, I could understand it when you let the Kingpin die. Dude had so much pull with the police he practically had an office in his cell. And I didn't hold the Harlequin's death against you, god knows you weren't in your right mind then. The Inferno, the Serpent, the Nightmare, they were all villains who probably wouldn't stop until they died. But the Duelist? A dumbass with a sword who read The Three Musketeers too many times? I have to draw the line. This was murder.\"\n\n\"And what if it was? He was a villain.\"\n\n\"He robbed a convenience store. He just happened to be wearing a stupid costume when he did it.\"\n\n\"Maybe if enough criminals suffer tragic accidents like that, they'll think twice about causing trouble in my city.\"\n\n\"Or maybe the Commissioner figures out what you're doing and brings you in for murder. He's a smart man, he knows you as well as I do.\"\n\n\"Let him try. I'm not going to let anyone stand between me and justice. Even policemen can have unfortunate accidents.\"\n\n\"Or maybe, just maybe, your loyal sidekick sees what you're up to, and rigs up one of your knockout gas bombs to detonate remotely, just in case.\"\n\n\"You couldn't-\"\n\nWHOOMPH\n\n\"I'm sorry. But I had to stop you.\"", "This is a really tantalizing premise. And it has been done really well in the past. I'm not here to write something original, but to give a review. I'd highly recommend those interested in reading the comic series \"Injustice: Gods among us.\" I won't divulge too many spoilers, but essentially Lois Lane is killed and Metropolis obliterated by the Joker. Superman then kills the Joker and in his grief decides to turn the world into a police state. Some superheroes assist him, believing his judgement is infallible. Batman and others however, immediately recognize Superman's fall from grace. It becomes increasingly apparent that Superman no longer stands for the same principles he once did. He sees total world control as the only option, no matter what the cost. Superheroes (and millions of innocent civilians too) become collateral damage in his quest for \"world peace.\" As Harvey Dent informs us all, \"you either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.\"", "In a throne far below the earth, straddling the edge of known borders, perched triumphantly in the lowest tower of a castle built from the ground down sat a decrepit piece of rusted armor. It sat on the tomb of its forebears, hewn from their bones melded with white stone. At the center of the four pillars that held the room, a fifth pillar of moonlight soared down from the sky, penetrating each derelict castle floor through the cracks that nature had wrought. It glew in the dark of the night like a wound so deep it bore no flesh. \n\n\nThe stone throne held carved depressions depicting armies of skulls disorderly marching across an unturned land, tilling the soil with their defilement of life. Many carvings pocked the surface, some flowing into others to tell a tale, then stopping abruptly where another story began. These raised paintings, etched masterpieces of stone were not made by hand, but by loosened spirits turned from their tomb. Eons of their spiteful whispers had eroded the stone into a memory of their countless legacies. On the throne sat the rusted suit of armor, the sole bearer of the curse, who sat and heard the madness coil around him for eternity. Sinews of perfectly hewn stone hung from the throne, hardened cobwebs of white binding it to the crypt that it sat upon, looking as if the dead were trying to pull the throne bearer down into the tomb. \n\n\nThe doors to the entombed throne loosened, tugging at the vines that nature had locked them with. The doors swung outward, pushed aside by a living soul. A young man heaved himself in, emblazoned in crimson armor that shone life into the tomb. He carried with him a white broadsword whose blade was sealed with ebony runes. The armor rattled to life. The whispers fled him in that moment. The helmet creaked as the neck cracked away the centuries. \"So, your kind have made it at last.\" The adventuring knight drew his blade. Lost fireflies that had wandered in through the castle's tiny cracks settled on the stilled blade. \n\n\nClouds of icy mist emanated from the lightless slits in the suit's helmet, they coiled in the air before dispersing. They were as frozen words, spoken by a long dead emissary for the tomb, whose speech would only be heard when the frosted mist dispersed into the air. \"This is where I found him,\" the armor raised a boot and brought it down on the crypt. \"Where I found my father in council with the Underking.\" it arched its neck sideways and stared contemplatively at the boy. The adventurer shivered, weakening his grip on his sword. He found resolve, however, and planted his feet firmly on the ground in a wide stance. \"We...\" the voice trailed off, surrounded by scowling usurpers and ascendants to the throne, \"adventurers,\" the whispering voices grew in audbility, lashing out at the armored man in wordless tongues, \"fought with our lives against the undead. Interred hundreds of lost souls, farmers, fighters, children. Our warring scarred our people. We toiled against the masses, screaming and scrambling for purchase in this lost world. We lost so many.\" the mist spiraled slowly to the floor, where it spread out in waves at the armor's feet. \"But my father sat here, orchestrating the war. Advising the Underking. Amassing his troops.\" he brought his knee up higher this time, stomping on the crypt fiercely. When he removed his boot from the stone, there was left a scratch on the slab. Flakes of rusted red dropped onto the mark. \"Creating an army of undead behind all of our backs.\" \n\n\nThe man cocked his helmet upwards, staring off into an unseen corner of the chamber. Cold smoky tendrils seeped out into the air. \"I killed him right then, ran him through with my lance.\" he stomped again, more emphatically. A piece of masonry crumbled on the wall beside him, vines stretched and tore trying to hold it in place. Behind the plastered stone part of the wall had been conically compressed from impact. Cracks fanned out from the center of the depression, all of them originating from a single point. \"He grinned a sickening grin as he stood there, impaled by his own son. It was as ear to ear as a grin can be. An undead skinwearer tore off its mask of flesh. I had been too late to absolve my father, the Underking had claimed him for his crimes.\" he turned back to face the boy, peppering his shoulderplates with bits of rust, disturbing the fireflies that roosted there with a metallic downfall. \"The king looked at us and laughed. Mere puppets of flesh, toyed with til the end.\" \n\n\nThe boy stirred. The armor made its first movement. An arm, gilded with greenery, shook to life. It ascended in an arc, learning how to move again. The rusted metal proved to only be a facade, the whispers urged it off with their soundless breaths. The gauntlet, under the full bore of the moon, gleamed with a new ornament of rust. The whispers had etched laughing skulls and violent, sweeping curves like the strokes of a blade into the armor's layers of rust. The man paused and turned his arm around, admiring the craftsmanship of the dead. His fingers creaked with disuse, he cracked the joints and dust and rust fell to the floor like dried blood. He curled them into a fist. \"I slew the king next. They hated me for what I'd done, for abandoning their ideals.\" His fingers tightened, breaking the last bits of wear that time had cursed him with. He drew his arm level with his head, elbow pointing out towards the circular crack in the wall, and grasped the red thorns on his helmet. \"I have conquered my wraiths,\" the mist said with sudden heat, shaking off the cooings of the whispers, \"It is time you faced yours.\" With one motion he pulled the helmet from its face. Great piles and lines of mist trapped and writhing in the armor broke free, tumbling down in throes. The helmet stood in the motionless hand, its reddish dust falling to the floor to reveal the pattern of a skull. The slits that once spoke became fangs. The mist pooled at the floor, enough released for the shape of a head to escape the drowning. It spoke, but the ever-changing features of its smoky face trapped the words within it. \n\n\nBut the boy did not hesitate. He knew the face within the fading coils, he could see it beneath the tendrils, crying to be free from this hated prison. Pleading for release. It was the face of his father, and his father before him. He lowered his sword knowingly, the wraiths that had plagued them were no more. \"You have suffered enough for our family.\" he voice quivering with hope, tears filling his eyes and falling down his still new armor. \"I've come to release you, to hold the burden for myself.\" he dropped the edge of his blade to the floor and rubbed a gloved hand against his eyes. \"You've toiled so much to keep the spirits at bay.\" the face in the mist had a coiling tendril blink past, a ripple in its expression reminiscent of a smile. \"The world has seen peace for so long, I must tell you of what it has been like, great-grandfather.\" The face wrapped in mist nodded emphatically, a great broad motion that brought its form from staring at the ceiling to back towards the boy. \"I, too, have abandoned my friends, my party for this cause.\" he said, hand moving just enough to reveal tear stained cheeks. The armor creaked, the face in the mist howled and dropped the helmet so it may embrace its kin. \n\n\nThe boy strode forward, letting his sword land on the stone of the tomb. He knelt in front of the man in the armor, whose arms still lay outstretched. The boy picked up the helmet that had fallen, the man's arms sagged. \"I will be king, I will return the undead people to glory.\" he said, placing the helmet on his head. The crypt shook, long dormant ghasts, souls of the dreary dead rose from where they had slumbered. The whispers filled his ears, tumbling into his conscious, attempting to invade it with thoughts of glorious conquest but finding acceptance in their place. The mist stilled, frozen in time for but a second. At first a wave, undulating from the very edges of the mist on the floor. Then another. Followed by another. The mist roared, swirling and bounding in sweeping curves around the boy. The whispers were free, their conquests of vengeance heard. The mist torrented into the boy's helmet, filling it with an everlasting darkness. \n\n\nThe boy spoke once more, his voice not what it was. When he spoke it was not one, but hundreds of voices wailing in incomprehensible tongues, saturated with glee at thoughts of vengeance that filled their long dead minds. The madness roared as he spoke, a syllable of one screaming soul falling into place next to another, forming words in the endless, roaring madness. The voices reveled in a patchwork of screams. \"I am the Underking.\" \n", "The loud tick of the clock's seconds hand echoed through the quiet room as we waited for Badgerman, or as we called him, Bill, to arrive. He had said it was important, that he had a way to save the city. The only thing was, for once, the city wasn't in need of saving.\n\n\"I've got it,\" Bill shouted as he barged into the room and unslung a canvas bag from his shoulder. \"This will save everyone.\"\n\n\"From what?\" Alex asked as our team watched curiously while he opened the bag.\n\nHe removed a strange looking box with wires and antenna dangling off. It took me a few moments before I recognized it.\n\n\"Is that Dr. Ice's freeze ray?\" I asked, hoping I was wrong. \"Wasn't it damaged in the fight when we beat him?\"\n\n\"Yes, and yes,\" said Bill. \"Now I just need to fix a couple of loose connections and then it'll- here we go.\" He fiddled with a few of the wires and then the machine hummed to life. A glowing blue light pulsed from the machine.\n\n\"I did it!\" cried Bill, his voice was high pitched and he was suddenly talking fast.\n\n\"Did what?\" asked Alex.\n\nI blinked and Bill was suddenly standing across the room by a window. Patches of clouds were racing by outside and the shadows cast by the sun were moving at a steady pace.\n\n\"No more crime, no more violence,\" said Bill, still talking almost faster than I could make out. \"The entire city will be saved.\"\n\nI blinked again and he was gone. We were silent again, only now I could hear a hum coming from the clock. I glanced at it to see the longest hand ticking away the seconds as before, only something was wrong. The clock face was blurred. Then I realized I could only see two hands.", "Jack,\n\nI am writing this because I want you to understand. I will be sending copies of this letter to the police, District Attorney, and the Jenneric Journal. I know you will not forgive me for this betrayal. Just know that I do not forgive you for her death.\n\nI wanted us to be brothers. I was rooting for you. I never, not for one second, believed that anyone else was good enough for my sister. You had such passion. Such an unwavering belief in the capacity for humanity to do good. You, of all the people of Jenneric City, had the courage to be something more than a victim of the evil which plagues our city.\n\nI am not ashamed to admit that in the early days, I helped you. I designed the mask which you thought would hide your identity. I helped you build the tools you use on your once-noble crusade. I helped, because I believed in the cause.\n\nAnd you have done your good. The criminals have been neutered by their fear of you. But still you fight on, addicted to the rush of power. It was this addiction which killed her.\n\nI told you not to face him. \"The Longthought is too powerful.\" Do you remember those words? I warned you he would be your downfall. But you refused to back down, or accept help, and you declared him your \"archenemy.\"\n\nAnd he learned your identity, and he learned of your love for my sister, and he killed her before she had a chance to return it. And the worst part is that instead of bringing Longthought in, to face the people's justice, you killed him. You murdered him in cold blood, just like he murdered my sister. You spat in the face of everything we stood for when you robbed him of his day in court.\n\nThe police claim it was an accident, the press ruled it self defense. They just want to believe that you are still a symbol of justice. I know the truth. You are not a hero, not anymore You let my sister die, and then you stole her justice.\n\nAnd so, people of Jenneric City, I ask that you join me. I, Anderton Allen, pledge my wealth and resources to the downfall of the vigilante known as The Might. Join me, and we will prove we need no hero! From here on out, we will be our own might!\n\nP.S. you want an archenemy, Jack? I'll give you a fucking archenemy.", "He was the most inspirational teacher I'd met. He had a way of making science real, and a weariness that sat on his shoulders. When he first found his power, I was happy for him. He needed some strength, that I knew for certain, and something to rely on. But things gradually changed. His appearances in school became more sporadic, he was distracted, always on his cell phone. I could feel his mind wasn't really on theory, when I mentioned it, he said he was becoming more practical. People started hanging around the school looking for him, there was a lawyer I think. He shaved his head. I knew he was experiencing some personal trouble, but it seemed to bring out something in him, what it was I didn't know. I even asked him about it one day, but he was evasive. He still remained as steady as ever. \n\nThere was something about his eyes that had changed. He no longer carried himself mildly, he no longer walked with a stride of a high school teacher. He looked dangerous. I almost dismissed that thought, he never once had shown himself to be a dangerous man, but he was changing. He had changed. \nThen, one day, he didn't return to the school. \n\nI didn't know why for the longest time. \n\nUntil I heard. \n\n\n\n\"Mr. White is a meth kingpin.\" ", "\"Shawn, you're becoming a villain.\"\n\nLilly had a reputation for getting straight to the point. Everyone else in the room cringed. They all knew what she said was true but had planned to slowly cosy up to the hard talk over the course of the evening. But now the cat was out of the bag and it had shit on the carpet.\n\nShawn looked shocked.\n\n\"No I'm not!\" he retorted. His agitation caused the bbq chicken pizza to flip over.\n\n\"Yes you are. You said you'd use your mind powers only to help people and now you're using them to,\" Lily pointed toward the kitchen, \"make pudding.\"\n\nThe sounds from the kitchen stopped abruptly.\n\n\"That's hardly a villainous thing to do,\" said Shawn coolly.\n\n\"What about the thing you did to that mugger?\" Jake spoke up.\n\n\"That was his fault.\"\n\n\"It was his fault to get hit by a car because you made him think he was a deer?\"\n\n\"Yes, of course!\" The pizza flipped the right way up again. \"He was a criminal. He got what was coming to him.\"\n\n\"But Shawn,\" this time it was Suzanna, \"you're also using your powers to gamble money away from unsuspecting people.\"\n\n\"So what? They're gamblers, they know they're risking their money going in. And someone's gotta win anyway. Why not me?\"\n\n\"What you did to Mrs. Weathertop wasn't cool man.\" It was Aziz.\n\nShawn's breathing quickened, causing the lights in the room to flicker.\n\n\"That bitch said I was nothing without my powers. She deserved to have her brain turned to mush.\"\n\n\"But Shawn-\"\n\n\"Shut up!\"\n\nThe bulb of the lamp next to Shawn burst as he stood up, seething in rage. \"Giving you guys your thoughts back was a big mistake,\" he bellowed and waved his hand. His friends calmed down as their eyes glossed over.\n\n\"We're having so much fun!\" exclaimed Jake a couple of seconds later and started wolfing down on the pizza.\n\nLily crawled onto Shawn's lap. \"You're the best, baby.\"\n\n\"I know.\"" ]	9
	[WP] During an arts raid, a warehouse is seized. It contains a pristine library, dating back thousands of years, containing the history of mankind.	[ "We showed our access badges to a stone-faced sentry at the door. He nodded silently before unlocking the large door, sliding it to one side to give my partner and I entry.\n\nInside, several field agents were move frantically. A series of lights had evidently been brought in, and their extension cords snaked across the floor. About a third of those inside were cataloging the volumes with innumerable, flash-less photographs.\n\n\"Smart,\" I thought to myself as we approached a larger concentration of the agents. A man holding a camera spotted us, and gained the attention of a tall gentleman standing in the midst of the chaos. He began walking towards us.\n\n\"Doctors Kline and Taylor, I presume,\" he said slowly, methodically. He was tall and lean, with short-cut black and piercing black eyes behind a pair of compact eyeglasses.\n\n\"Taylor,\" I said, reaching out to accept his hand. His grip with strong, and he gave one deliberate shake before releasing me.\n\n\"And Kline,\" said my colleague.\n\n\"I am Special Agent Brack, Thank you for coming so quickly. Do you need someone to take your bags?\"\n\n\"No, that won't be necessary,\" Kline said curtly.\n\n\"We're going to be in and out of field kits quite frequently,\" I said. \"No sense in having another person lug them around.\"\n\n\"Very well. If you would follow me then. He turned about quickly, leading us away from the crowd of agents to a quieter end of the warehouse, which was the side on the right from where we had entered. \"We seized this warehouse three days go, with a joint operation with the FBI. The investigation was into a ring of private art collectors who we suspected of acquiring their collections using... illicit means. We had never imagined that their stockpile would be so extensive. And we quickly realized we did not have the means to transport everything immediately. For that reason, we need to take a manifest here, before we given moving it to a secure facility. That's what most of the men are doing.\"\n\nMost of the items around us were covered in drop sheets, concealing and protecting what was hidden beneath. The size of these items ranged extensively, from sheets that seemed to be merely bunched up on the floor, were actually covering numerous objects, to what I could only imagine was a statue of some sort about twelve feet high and three feet wide. \n\nBrack gave no indication that he would give us a complete tour, but lead us to a room built within the east end of the warehouse. It was about eight feet hight, and thirty or more feet wide. Approaching from the front, I could not judge it's depth, but it might have extended sixty feet back, to the end of the warehouse. Their were no windows, but there was a sturdy door which I assumed had an air-tight seal. As we got closer, I could hear the equipment installed on the roof of the building, which must have conditioned the space. With a start I realized that Brack had speaking to us, and the Kline was responding to his questions.\n\n\"... approximately three hundred scrolls, and maybe eight-hundred bound volumes,\" Brack answered.\n\n\"And you haven't deciphered any of them?\"\n\n\"No, our department's specialist could not identify the origin of the writing. And due to the care taken to store these items in this temporary facility, we made the decision to have experts analyze their contents here before we make a determination.\"\n\n\"So what do you require from us?\" I asked, hoping that Brack had not already told us while I had been distracted.\n\nHe looked at my suspiciously, no doubt aware of where my attention had been drawn. \"We would like you to determine the general contents of the collection, especially the culture to which they likely belong.\" Another sentry opened the door as we approached, revealing a lightless interior. \"We have determined their contents to range from six to eight thousand years in age.\"\n\nMy jaw fell as Brack led us inside. 'Six to eight thousand? Years?'\n\nThe darkness hid my incredulity. When the door was closed behind us, I fear we would be consumed by the pitch of the interior, but a moment later, a series of red-hued light came on, painting a sanguine portrait of Brack's face.\n\n\"I'm sorry, did I hear you correctly?\" Kline began. \"We've only ever found a handful, if you could even call it that many, of texts from that time period. Some experts are even skeptical that such artifacts are accurately dated, considering the scarcity of those few.\"\n\n\"Yes, we are certain of that date. We were able to date the papyrus and animal skin from the scrolls and tomes. Now, the air in this room is not safe to breathe for long periods of time. You will be limited to 90 minutes of work at a time, between breaks of two hours, so make the most of it. There will be an agent standing guard on the other side of the door at all times. Should you require anything, speak to him. Now, I expect a report on your findings at mid-day and this evening.\"\n\nWithout another word, he turned around, walked quickly to the door, and rapped his knuckles against its smooth surface. It opened, the lights inside cut out, and the brightness outside dazed me for a moment. A few seconds later, the door was shut and the room returned to a dull red.\n\nA small grin appeared on the face of the stoic Kline. His eyes showed a hunger I had not seen in some time. He quickly shot his glance to the book shelves before us.\n\nFor the first time, I really began to take note of my surroundings. The structure of the book shelves were constructed of ceramics, with individual sections enclosed with polarized, heavily-shaded glass. Each glass door was labeled with an eight-digit alphanumeric code, but no description of the contents was available. The book cases were about six feet tall, two and a half feet deep, and twelve feet wide, which was just enough that two could be fit side-by-side, leaving a central corridor and two smaller corridors that ran the depth of the room. Before the first book case was an array of high tables, with surfaces about two feet deep and five wide, no doubt for perusing the collection.\n\nKline stepped forward and stowed the bulk of his equipment beneath the closest table. \"What do you figure is than language?\"\n\nI followed his lead and removed a hefty tablet from one of my bags. \"The only thing we have from the lower range is Linear B and Sumerian. But somehow I suspect that we won't be able to identify it all.\"\n\n\"My thoughts exactly. I propose getting a sample of the oldest texts and using Ulysses to try and decipher the language.\"\n\n\"I concur,\" I told him, showing that I already had the tablet in hand. \"Would you like to bring a few sample to this table so that I could start creating a database.\"\n\n\"Excellent,\" he said without answering my question. He disappeared into the library.\n\nI smiled at his enthusiasm as the tablet began powering on. The latin letters 'U.L.I.S.', for Universal Language Identification System, were engraved onto the top. As I was finished customizing the decryption routine, Kline returned with an armful of scrolls. He sent them gently down onto the table before me, and silently returned to the collection.\n\nI gently ran my fingers along the surface of the closest one. It was ancient. The edges of the papyrus were rippled and torn in places. To my surprise, the rollers appeared to be of ivory, with evidence of gilding. But it was their contents that really called out to me.\n\nAs carefully as I could, I unravelled it across the table, revealing the first page. Each body of text was about eight inches wide and ran the height of the scroll. Thankfully, margins were left at the top and bottom, so the writing appeared unharmed by the deterioration along the edges. Though faded, their condition was remarkable nonetheless. The glyphs themselves resembled the familiar incomprehensible Linear B, but I noted what appear to be archaic characters and some which I had never seen at all. I positioned the tablet above and took a picture of the characters. Ulysses began organizing the etching while I rolled up one end to the scroll and unwound the other. I took another picture and it added to the decryption catalogue. \n\nThe work was slow, but Kline came back at regular intervals to check my progress and exchange volumes. I noticed that he was appreciably interested in this particular set of older scrolls, which seemed to number in the dozens. Figuring they amounted to the oldest works he first spotted, I did not raise a question about whether we were really obtaining a sample of the collection. It was better for Ulysses anyway. Around the 90 minute mark, the guard outside opened the door and led us from the room. \n\nKline chatted fitfully with me on our break, and only infrequently took his eyes off of the library, despite the curiosities around us. I busied myself with examining the progress of the decryption, surprised that Brack had not yet reappeared. Just as I was about to inform Kline of the astounding headway Ulysses had made, he checked his watch and told me we should get back to work.\n\nKline quickly cleared the desk of the volumes I had already scanned with a carelessness that nearly made me cringe and disappeared again amongst the bookshelves.\n\nAs he vanished from sight, Ulysses let out a familiar ping. A tingling sensation shot up my spine.\n\nIt had translated the writing.\n\nI fervently read the automatically generated reported and began to examine it's contents.\n\nThere was a cohesive story. Kline had been bringing me sequential scrolls. My throat dried as I began reading. I drained the water bottle I had brought inside. I felt compelled to read it aloud, letting Kline now what we had found.\n\n\"In the beginning Nature was tamed by the First God. But Her power was too great and fractured Him into eight parts. Together, these Eight, each with their own domain, governed the Forces of our world. Their Children, wielding the Powers of Nature, existing alongside but lorded over Man. For hundreds of years the rule of the Children of the Gods-\" ", "As the body-armored officers lined up to breach the doors of the old building, their commander couldn't help but notice how well maintained the target was. Despite the age of its architecture, it showed not a sign of decay. Where the windows of its closest neighbors were rippled, dirty, cracked, some combination thereof, or else missing entirely, the warehouse the team was preparing to invade had smooth, dark tinted panes. The video feed from the helicopter orbiting the site had showed that the warehouse's roof was free of holes and damage. It appeared that not even a single shingle was out of place. The investigation hadn't turned up the structure's owner, but whoever it was had clearly gone to great expense to preserve it... and whatever was inside. \n\nThe commander moved into his position, touching each of his men on the shoulder as he did so, as much to let them know his position as to reassure them. Not one man spoke, lest they tip off any radicals that could be inside. Instead, they communicated with hand signals, each man giving the two-fingered salute that meant 'ready.' In response, the commander gave to 'Go' signal, an upraised fist, then turned to the man nearest him, the demolition's specialist. The specialist held out a hand, fingers outstretched: a five second countdown. The commander and his executive officer, one man behind the demo officer, unlimbered flashbang grenades from their tactical vests as the breaching charge counted down. With a concussive thud, the charge detonated and in less than a second the flashbangs had been primed, thrown, and detonated, flooding the interior of the building blinding light and deafening thunder. \n\nWith the perfect synchronization that came from relentless drilling, the officers filed in, each man sweeping his assigned angle with his assault weapon, each shouting out repetitive phrases, designed to disorient any hostiles and disguise how many men there were actually moving in. \n\nThe only thing that greeted them were echoes: of the flashbangs, their shouts and their own footsteps. Orienting themselves on the entrance, they swept left to right. Ever wary, the team carefully checked each row of shelves they passed, contents indistinct in their night-vision goggles. By the time they reached the far side of the warehouse it became clear that it was empty of any and all people apart from themselves. Finding a lightswitch, the commander gave the order to turn off night-vision, then illuminated the building so that they could see exactly what they had found. \n\nFinally free to speak, the commander began to give orders. \n\n\"Everybody spread out and search the shelves. Record any contraband you find and report back in exactly ten minutes. Anything feels off or you see something strange, call it out. Now get going.\"\n\nAs his team dispersed, the commander turned his attention to the shelves nearest him. Shelves just like it stretched the length and width of the warehouse, identical in make, carved from dark, heavy wood. Each shelf contained rows and rows of hardbound books, their spines emblazoned with only a number in gold leaf. Moving rightwards, the volume numbers increased until the shelves ran into the wall of the building, at which point the numbers reverted to the far left of the next row, a simple enough system of organization. \n\nIt was a lot of books, hundreds, thousands. A library of some kind then. But libraries were organized differently, and titled their books with more than just numbers. Furthermore, the layer of fit blanketing everything made it clear that it was not just in inhabited, but that no one had been inside for a long time. There wasn't even evidence of a squatter or a bum. It didn't add up. He tried to make sense of the contradictions of the place as he waited for the men to return but an explanation eluded him. \n\nSoon enough the officers came jogging up to deliver their reports. \n\n\"Sir, we found old manuscripts, individually numbered, in unlocked glass cases,\" said one. \n\n\"Towards the entrance are carved stone tablets, also individually numbered, lit and displayed on plinths,\" reported another. \n\nSomething piqued the commander's interest. \"The numbers, moving rightwards, did they increase or decrease?\"\n\n\"Decrease, sir. From what we could tell, the farthest left was numbered in the hundreds of thousands, decreasing in regular intervals of several hundred at a time.\"\n\n\"Then there's a zero point somewhere in here.\"\n\n\"There's no zero, sir,\" said the executive officer. \"It moves from one to one. At that point, the shelves contained numbered scrolls, sir.\"\n\n\"The whole warehouse contains only writings of various vintages then?\" asked the commander. \n\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nThe commander pulled the nearest book from the shelf. It was numbered '1854.'\n\n\"War continues in the Crimea,\" read the commander. \"Opening the year was a skirmish between Ottoman and Russian forces near Calafat...\" He skipped several pages. \"At this point, Commodore Perry made to fire on the port, forcing the Japanese to negotiate with him... These are history books,\" said the commander, shutting 1854. \"Thousands of years of history. I wonder who collected all this?\" He cast his eyes about the space, searching vainly for a clue. Finding none, he sighed. \"A problem for the detectives, I suppose. Nothing for us here.\"\n\nFiling out, the team missed the words carved above the door: \"Those who do not heed the lessons of history, are themselves doomed to repeat it.\"" ]	2
	[WP] In the year 2020 a hacker releases confidential NFL documents proving the league is scripted like professional wrestling	[ "PART ONE: BLUEBERRY JONES or the New Captain Kirk---\n\n\nAs a coach for a team at the 'big show' , I'll strike the team name from the record. Not that anyone's life is in danger, I just don't want any financial shit heaved at me like some low IQ linebacker hurling all three-hundred pounds on me at the goal line. I was recruited in the winter during training. I was a coach for the offensive line. Focused mainly on the rookies who were looking to make an impression on the owner's so they could maybe 'actually play' a real game instead scrimmage. These guys were hungry. Real hungry players. For awhile, I truly didn't understand the 'protocol' for getting the rookies out on the field. I mean some of my guys were throwing passes with dead accuracy while being pummeled by three to four defensive linemen. Some of these guys were hitting field goals at nearly half the field. Continuously. But a lot of these notes of mine were acknowledged but never put into use. I always got a 'We'll consider it\". From the 'head coach' down to the fucking financial secretary. I mean it was mind-boggling. \n\n\"what the hell is going on here?\" I kept asking myself. I mean here I was hired in to coach 'new recruits' for a team that desperately needed a fine tuning to even be back on the radar of its own hometown people. The fans here were rooting for the neighbor. Home games were so lackluster in the stadium that eventually people were 'paid' literally paid to fill seats. My jaw dropped.. I flew out and relocated my family out of Florida to here, you know ,the very place I'll have to strike from record. I can say it snowed a lot here, that its got some really good diners famous for sausage style links. Everyone owns a boat, and everyone owns a fucking gun. Which makes this one of the safest neighborhoods in all of America. Its so safe in fact that people ' leave things' unlocked just so they can find some trouble. Its that thin in crime. Cops push people to a frustrating point just to make arrests. Shit here is just, its just nonsense to my mind. I don't get it. But I'm getting, or was getting around 75k a year to start. Not too bad. Better than 40k at the college I was coaching, so I just dealt with it.\n\nI had no idea what I was walking into. on top of the fact that I had no idea what I was about to walk out of. The biggest 'smoking gun' that comes to my mind when things started to look 'fishy' here was when a rookie by the name of , well shit, let me call him Blueberry Jones. Cause , well I like blueberries and this last guys name is Jones so lets roll with that.\n\nSo this rookie quarterback, Blueberry Jones comes up to me after a training week, very pumped to make an impression. The Owner was going to stop in and gaze over his potential earnings. This year , we were told repeatedly, was a year of the make over. it was so militant that they even named it 'Project Pageant X'. They even hired an ex-CIA guy named Allen, to mentor this whole fucking thing. I was yet again, flabbergasted and bewildered. I just wanted to coach some fucking football but here I was going over these confidential documents about team assembling and marketing. \n\nMarketing?? What the fuck do I know about marketing?? Don't they hire someone for that??\n\n\"Its cost effective.\" The Owner said at the meeting.\"We're going to cross train all coaches to better utilize our resources..\".\nAt this meeting, just a few hours after Blueberry Jones had begged on his knees in my office to show him my notes and footage of Jones tossing dead on hail mary's past the half line for a full run touchdown. A simple play devised by Blueberry himself. Which he argued and argued with me was a winning play. And this guy did it consistently. I had to give it to him. Not only was he unburied gold, within a team of new recruits, this guy was smart. Real smart. We would inevitably bond through are continuous arguments.\n\nThe meeting drew to a close after 'ALLEN' had briefed all of us on how the 'strategy for effective assembling' was going to reinvent the team. Somehow 'marketing' played a huge factor in it. I still was completely lost. After everyone got up and grouped into separate discussions about 'who's best campaigning choice' or 'who's most financially sell-able' I grabbed my balls and my notes and footage and approached the owner. I figured I'm going to play this game his way. I'll find a way to market Blueberry Jones.\n\n\"Sir, just a minute please\" I said pathetically confident.\n\nHe turned to me with great agitation,\" I got a flight to catch. Is this important?\" \n\nMy balls vanished within my grip. But fuck it, I let it fly anyway, \" I got Blueberry Jones, rookie quarterback who's got accuracy like \na Russian drone. this guy is your Superbowl ticket. I guarantee you that. He's also got brains, he's got ways of tinkering at classic plays that somehow become completely unpredictable.., and at the right moment, he throws that pigskin like a bullet being shot from a snipers barrel, instant kill...\" It was very poetic and I was proud of myself.\n\nThe Owner wasn't at all impressed. He nodded. And then said, \"well, how does he fit into the overall marketed team? You understand were are trying to sell an entire team here, and there are ways we go about that.\" \n\nI had no clue, I was a fucking duck in the mud. I continued to try though, \"Well, he's smart, real smart, he can be like Captain kirk on the Enterprise..\" I actually said that. I knew when that came out of my mouth I was about to be judged as a total fucking retard who fell through the cracks of the hiring process and yet, somehow managed to come out alive as a paid coach on this team.\n\n\"Captain Kirk?\" The Owner repeated with a very judgmental smirk.\n\n\"Well, you know, he's the guy everyone goes to when things get shaky , or you know, hairy, when the score board looks like a statistic number and were the one to the ten dentists who recommend flossing after each meal. And were that one dentist that's making the obviously terrible decision not to. We then through in Blueberry Jones, who saves the day. The enterprise flies once again. Everyone flosses...\"..Fuck I tried, I tried really hard. I have no idea where that analogy came from, it just made sense to me. Again this is why I coach football and haven't' published any goddamn books in my life.\n\nThe Owner stood there for a second, actually biting his tongue. I can hear the tearing in his mouth. This guy was struggling not too laugh about as much as I was struggling to sell a rookie recruit. \n\n\"Do you have footage on this captain kirk of yours?\" He asked politely. A sign of this man trying to calm a maniac on the edge of lashing out in public.\n\nI handed him my phone. I had cued up the short clip of Jones tossing the hail mary. he watched it, frowned then watched it again.\nI think I suddenly had him. I think...\n\n\"Have Jones come to my office next week for a meeting. I might be able to put him on the roster if my deal with (fake name) Winsell Flowers falls through...\" He said handing my phone back to me. He nodded then turned away. Leaving behind ,me, the successful Star Trekkian maniac who just pitched his first recruit to the owner for an actual chance on the roster. Fellow Star Trek fan? Possibly. Conspiracy to overthrow the new coach's decision to claim as his own, to then finally fire me off before I draw up more Star Trek analogies to other higher up officials? Most likely.\n\nEither way I was successful. This time. And after that , that's when it all went to shit. All of it. All my coaching, all my document reading and emailing back, all my marketing research...everything I had done to keep my job, was about to come to an immediate halt after one single, email came my way. An email that would throw me into darkness and become completely paranoid. I would hide in my house in fear for my life and my families...\n\n\n", "On Feb. 6th, 2020 - just 20 minutes before the kickoff of Superbowl LIV - the National Football League's database in New York City was breached. Just seconds later, a crucial document stored deep within it's bowels disappears and is transferred to an unknown location in the Midwest. 13 minutes before the start of the game, and the document is sent to news outlets throughout the country. Under the alias of a whistleblower from Dallas, newssites such as The Atlantic, SkyNews, AP, Washington Post, and Newsweek receive word of an atrocious realization within the nation's (second) greatest sport: it's fake. Wait, pardon me, it's scripted. Weighted. Corrupted. Call it what you may, but the truth was out - the corporate big wigs in the NFL weren't very good sports.\n\nThree minutes after the start of the big game, Fox News and ABC released a Breaking News segment (CBS was too busy broadcasting the game to care about what was happening) discussing the document. Due to it not being a 600-page long document, the content was verified by these primary sources before being sent out to the front page. For some, the big game was completely spoiled. For others, their $500 family bet was just ruined. This was because the big headline for this breaking story was \"BALTIMORE 35 - 24 PHILADELPHIA\".\n\nPlay-by-play of the game was well known. The first three minutes of the game was spot-on: \"If Baltimore gets heads and wins coin toss, they receive. Baltimore fumbles during first play and Philadelphia would receive, stopping at the 40 yard line. Work to 25 yard line by 3rd down. Get down to 4th and 6, score a field goal by 2:30 mark.\" Sure enough, the game was 3-0 Philly three minutes into the game, with Torrey Smith receiving and fumbling the ball and Cody Parkey makes the field goal.\n\nPeople were livid throughout Philadelphia and New York (the latter being the LIV host). Every game was planned out and scripted since 1979. The curses were all very real; champions were forcefully given losing streaks to allow for other teams to triumph. Superbowl host teams were dragged down so that they wouldn't continuously win and gain an advantage over the other. This sense of balance was even given a cheesy term used repeatedly in the document - \"win-yang\". At first glance, this may seem to be a method of balancing out the game and preventing an unfair advantage over one another. However, there's a pretty big reason why the Cowboys is known as \"America's Team\". Right on the signature line for every script document - from 1979 to 2024 - was a signature from the NFL President, several other notable figures. But most noticeably, every document had a signature from at least a Cowboys manager and one big-wig in Dallas. From Clint Murchison Jr and Nelson Bunker Hunt to Jerry Jones and Ross Perot; every document consistently had two notable individuals from Dallas.\n\nEven more interesting, the document for 2025 was still being edited. It detailed an auction for the winner. Mutli-billionaires throughout the country had a stake of it; the team with the highest bids won the Superbowl, and the script was written accordingly. Some invested in the team, other people betted for or against other teams. It was a giant stock market copycat. Completely random and completely driven by how much money was thrown at one particular team. There's been a giant corrupted ring behind it all, and it's been unnoticed for over 40 years.\n\nThe reason why the Cowboys were on board with these signatures is because the first signatories - Clint Murchison Jr and Nelson Bunker Hunt - were secluded friends. Nelson Hunt was one of the two notable Hunt Brothers, both of whom were corrupted businessmen that went down in the history books for stockpiling silver in Texas and driving the price up illegally. This was one of the Hunts' devious plans, and it's been accumulating and building up till now. A $78 billion gambling ring was just revealed, and would burst almost instantly.\n\nHalfway into the 2nd quarter, the game stopped. People in the stadium found out and were rioting. Food and drinks were thrown onto the field and MetLife Stadium was in chaos. Cities along the East Coast were in lockdown within an hour. Citizens came out of their living rooms and cried bloody murder. Riot police were overwhelmed in Philadelphia, where the rioting originally started. In fact, several members of the police joined in with the rioters and joined them in their outrage of their favorite team being forced to lose. Around this time, Jerry Jones was already out of US airspace en route to a private estate in the Cayman Islands. Some followed suit, but many were either caught by authorities or blindsided by coworkers and unsuspecting friends and family members at Superbowl parties.\n\n---\n\nPart 2 coming soon" ]	2
	[WP] You are part of an army of duck sized horses about to take on a horse sized duck.	[ "\"Tonight, we dine on on the Jabberquacky!\" neighed the horse. He raised a triumphant hoof a few centimeters off the ground, posing as if he'd just come off a war memorial. He was, in a word, disillusioned. One of those kinds of horses who couldn't actually think very much for themselves, who never wanted to take on new challenges for themselves, but wanted to do it by proxy. If someone else was doing it, it sparked quickly dying heat in them. This urge, this necessity, purpose filled their malleable little minds and chugged them forward. He had found a history book.\n\n\"Harold, we are herbivorous.\" every military had a horse like Sergeant Samuel, the realist they would call him. He would look at them in confusion, isn't this what was normal? While the soldiers nodded with him on the battlefield, they ignored him at the camps. Doses of reality were a necessary evil, it reminded the horsemen what they fought for, that when they went back there was a world that was real for them to sleep in whilst standing. But Samuel was still there with them, ready to charge, a phenomenon he didn't quite understand himself, except he said he felt a little tingle in his chest area whenever they faced the Jabberquacky.\n\n\"Seargent, did I not tell you to shut your muzzle?\" snapped Harold, as much as a horse could snap. It was more of a wheeze and a neigh that did that flapping thing that horses do with their massive lips. \"I've seen the books, the stories, Sam.\" he said with grim determination. Harold's human was a prolific peruser of history, often the very bloody bits in history, he also played a game on the moving box that looked a lot like the pictures in the books. Harold was the kind of horse that would take stories like this to heart, a mere glance would make him build a world in his head where he could fit in. If he was a wired a few more neurons to the left, he would've thought the pictures were horses trapped in paper. \"They tell of our great conquests! Carried into battle by the man, squeezed beneath his legs, their iron grip! They flew us to great wars all across the park! The humans died in bloody ways just to get us to battle, where we finished our enemies with no casualty!\" some would argue that the winners write history, but they aren't the ones reading it.\n\n\"Harold, we are not riders. We are ridden.\" the soldiers nodded while preparing their weapons, which happened to be themselves and it looked an awful lot like grazing. Samuel was the kind of pet that sat and watched Horse MD with his owner, diligently nodding when his owner had an epiphany and turned to him to explain part of the episode's plot very slowly(Samuel had not pieced together if it was because he thought he should explain the story to a duck sized horse very carefully, or he was just a tad slow, but the fact that he even thought of the first eventuality gave him somewhat of an idea).\n\n\"Nonsense!\" cried Harold, \"Do you not see the majesty of our armor? The leatherback and the human protecting our most exposed weakness?\" he had to give it to the humans, they were ingenious enough to use themselves as armor while also being transportation. \"The eyeshields to minimise our battle rage to our enemies in front of us?\" he paused, looked at the distracted soldiers and drove them to attention with his shrill cry. \"Tonight we direct our rage at the Jabberquacky! He who has defiled our land for too long, he who has denied us our little cubes of bread!\"\n\nSergeant Samuel sighed and clopped a hoof onto the ground, readying himself. This was their third attempt, the last few had just resulted in the...Jabberquacky, his teeth gritted together, asking them to stay for supper. This time it wasn't even close to nighttime! They marched onwards, little hoofs trampling bits of grass that had fallen off larger bits of grass. They had followed this path many times before, probably.\n\nAfter minutes of tireless marching, they came upon the Jabberquacky. It greeted them with the usual baritone and voluminous shout of \"Jabberquacky! How goes thee?\" it was, all in all, a rather large duck that just sat in a state of confused metabolism in the park pond. It never crossed Harold's mind that the Jabberquacky didn't share his bread because sometimes he didn't have any. The Jabberquacky rustled his feathers, shaking droplets of water off them, and opened his beak to squawk the emissaries of the duck sized horses. \"Wait, there are only thirty or so of you? What happened?\"\n\n\"I think there was a birthday party nearby.\" Samuel answered for the lost seventy. The Jabberquacky mused at this, made sense, he thought.\n\n\"We will be victorious!\" neighed Harold, a sudden but momentary rush of misplaced adrenalin had filled him with burning purpose. He shot forward and smacked his head into the little plastic fence that surrounded the Jabberquacky. \"Ow!\" he said with at least as much burning purpose.\n\n\"Anyway, did you get any spares?\" inquired Samuel over the musical stylings of Harold and fence. The Jabberquacky shook its head, its elongated neck oscillating as it did so, like a thick piece of chalk wound into a rope.\n\n\"Nonsense! Have you seen the state of the economy?\" the duck bellowed, he brought his head down low to face Samuel, \"I wouldn't be able to get quackers!\" it honked with what could be constituted as a laugh being filtered through a kazoo. And then another. Samuel groaned.\n\nHarold had broken free of the fence's taunting challenge, and had unfortunately taken this moment to find there was a giant duck head in his midst. He had prepared a battlecry for this eventuality, and it rumbled through him, he felt his knees weaken at the prospect of regaling his people for the last time with his magnificent bay. The books had told him that an honourable and victorious death was the best way to go out, felling your hated enemy with you so your conflict would not stain the world any longer. He'd wondered, as all of his horsemen did at some point, why would he want to actually die if he could go back? If that was the case then why did they bring Samuel along anyway? His voice, having barreled around in his stomach long enough to gain sufficient guttural impact, rolled the battlecry out of his mouth. \"Duck!\" his fine platoon of horsemen, the only platoon of horsemen in the park, brought their heads down low in fear of something that was occurring above their heads. \"Damnit, no! Like we practiced!\" he said, defeated. Samuel rolled his eyes as best as a horse could.\n\n\"Can we just go home?\"", "\"Well, would you look at that!\" Old Brown Hooves neighed.\n\nI shot him a hard glance. He knew he needed to keep his long mouth shut.\n\nIt stood tall. It stood yellow. It had a bright orange menacing bill. Karl, King of the Ducks, was the size of our herd all put together, stacked, and spread out. There were twenty of us that had come to slay this beast in the mountain enclosure. We were lucky, the grass stood tall, well above out heads. Karl wouldn't be able to see us, but Karl wasn't seeing much of anything. He was sleeping. His head was nestled down into his chest and his terrible webbed feet were hidden beneath his body.\n\nWe quietly trotted within firing distance. We only had one chance to take out this beast without taking casualties. We were the chosen stallions for this mission. We were the catapult crew. The Dirty Twelve held our elastic firing bands. Two to a band. Each one held an end of the elastic catapult and pulled it tight. The Sadistic Six then pulled napalm bags from their saddle bags and placed them in the middle of their bands where the oat holder was for firing. The Sadistic Six grabbed the oat holder with their teeth and pulled it back as far as possible until the elastic firing bands were taught.\n\nOld Brown Hooves struck his metal hooves against a rock and lit his torch. He picked up the blazing torch and waited for my signal. \n\nKarl's eyes shot open. Fuck.\n\n\"Rain Hell!\" I roared, and Old Brown Hooves galloped as fast as he could down the line lighting each bag of napalm. The Sadistic Six loosened their jaws and let the bags fly.\n\nThey flew through the air, all six bags of certain death. Karl stood tall and opened his wings. Maybe he thought he could bat the bags away. He wouldn't escape his death.\n\nTwo bags fell short setting the tall grass on fire, but the rest found their mark. Two smashed into his wings setting them ablaze. Another hit his right foot causing him to let out a deafening QUACK.\n\nI think Karl saw the final one. Well, I know Karl saw the final one because it landed right on his big fat orange bill and washed into his face.\n\nHe flapped his wings a few times out of rhythm and shook his head violently trying to shake off the napalm. Then he fell twitching and smoldering.\n\nEveryone Neighed! We had reduced Karl, King of the Ducks, to napalm burning foie gras. No longer would Karl sweep down on our herd and pick off our foals from above. No longer would his quacks turn our dreams in to nightmares. It was over.\n\nThe Twelve, the Six, Old Brown Hooves, and I trotted back to the plains were our mares waited for us with carrots and apples.\n\nThe End.", "\"This Pond Ain't Big Enough For The Two Of Us!\"\n\nI don't know why, but that was the line that got to me. The water line had dropped to record lows, and our Team had to wade through the soft, sticky pond muck for every precious sip. The mud would cling to our hooves for days after every water gallop we organized, and, ever since The Great Defeat, The Fowl Giant would kill anyone not fast enough to escape. \n\n\"It's just propaganda! Can't you see that?!\" my colt Night Banjo neighed angrily to me. \"How can you leave our foal and I like this?\"\n\n\"Don't think about it like that. We've been in a drought for years, and the water that The Fowl Giant drinks alone could keep us from thirst for another year or two. We don't know when the next true rain will come. What if there's nothing left for A Little Bit O'Luck to drink?\"\n\n\"He's too BIG. How can we even hope to win this time when we lost so badly before?\"\n\n\"Because we have to...\" I neighed, and turned to leave.\n\n\"I can't do this without you,\" he whinnied. \"Come back to us... please?\"\n\n\"I... I love you both.\" \n\nIt was true. My once great stallion fought in The Great Defeat, and was lucky to come back alive. He used to be the fastest horse in the Team, but was injured so badly that he would never be able to gallop again. I didn't care about his injuries, I even named our son after the luck that brought him back to me. I leave for battle knowing that If I die, my family will not be able to sustain itself. If I die, we all die.\n\n“Ready yourselves!” neighed the stallion named Orange Friday. The chariot team is on its way. This, my fellow horses, this is the day that we FIGHT! Puff up your manes! Fluff out your tails! IF WE ARE TO DIE, LET US DIE MAGNIFICENTLY!”\n\nThe Team erupted in a fury of beating hooves and ravenous whinnies. Pride for the cause swelled in Unfading Douchess, replacing the fear that had previously engulfed her. She was ready.\n\nA pair of the fastest colts in our Team burst through a small clearing in the bushes in front of us. Tied together with horse-hair rope, they dragged behind them a piece of bread that a scout had found. A growing rumble followed them closely.\n\n“NOW!”\n\nThe rumble shook the ground violently as the line of horses began their charge. The mighty beast burst through the tree line in pursuit of the chariot’s bait and let out an ear-shaking “QUACK!” The sight of The Fowl Giant was at the same time beautiful and horrifying. The powerful trap of his orange bill lead his charge with piercing screams. His crown was a monument to his power, sticking up in a round plume of red colored feathers. The eyes, born of pure darkness, shown black so deep that you could see yourself reflected in them. He had to push back his powerful wings so as to spring through the gap in the branches, but we all knew the havoc they could cause. During The Great Defeat, the monster spread those wings and took flight, leaving behind a slew of dead and defeated horses, my Night Banjo being one of them. It was my unit’s job to eliminate them.\n\nWe leaped from the rock to the beast’s right, landing square on Death’s back, and sunk our teeth as deep as they would go. He shook, sending three of my squad mates crashing to the ground, and spun to try to free himself from the attackers. Still, some of us held. Furious, he raised his wings to take flight. It was now or never.\n\nI waited for his wing to reach its high point, released his feathers from my jaw, and leapt. After falling for what felt like an eternity, the rope caught as the wing hit its lowest point and slingshot me under the outstretched appendage. I spun and swung and prayed. I prayed that I would see my family again. I prayed that if I were to die, that it would be painless.\n\nThe sudden jolt broke my disorientation as The Fowl Giant and I crashed to the ground. In my luck, I landed atop my enemy. Dozens of my Team were leaping on top of the beast around me carrying horse-hair rope of their own. Our enemy screamed in pain as my fellow horses secured him to the ground. \n\nI picked myself up to my hooves and looked around me. The beast lay defeated upon the battlefield, surrounded by the corpses of my slain companions. What had been one hundred brave horses now numbered less than fifty, and half of those remaining were injured. A stallion bucked and screamed a neigh of victory, and at once we standing took up the call. The once mighty beast lay pinned on its back with its down plumage exposed to the heavens. It had lost its will to live, as there was neither struggle nor voice left in our foe.\n\nI knew what would come next – the fallen tree whose end we had bitten into a sharp spike would be collectively raised on horseback and driven into The Fowl Giant’s chest. The pond would be ours again once more. Even with the resentment and rage that I held for the behemoth, I couldn’t bring myself to watch the murderous blow, so I trotted in the direction of home.\n\nI heard, sometime later, that the rope that I had braided with the help of A Little Bit O’Luck was the only rope that held. The rope wrapped The Fowl Giant’s wing as I whipped in circles around it, and the tree to which the other end was tied held even when all other ropes snapped. That I was the hero of the battle did not occur to me on the trot home. The only thought that occurred to me as I aimlessly starred up into the sky was that it looked like it was going to rain. Mother Nature is a cruel bitch.", "Harry the Horse remembered when he had first stepped foot in the military academy. A pale little horse of just eleven pounds, all the other horses had towered over him and sneered, pushing him around and taking his lunch money.\n\nNow felt just like that day all over again. Except instead of a couple of harmless bullies, he was now confronted with the largest creature he had ever seen in his life- a duck easily the size of ten horses. It screeched loudly as the horses began their approach, showing the large fangs inside its beak.\n\nHarry was determined not to panic. He was no longer the scared little horse of five years ago. He had proven them all wrong, risen to the rank of commander in the horse army. Looking behind him he saw another dozen horses, with expressions ranging from stoic bravery to help I've just wet my pants. Harry gave them a hooves-up. These were his men, looking up to him to take the lead.\n\n\"Soldiers, prepare the first wave!\"\n\nThis was classic military strategy. A corporal named Billy aimed with his cannon and a volley of horseradish missiles arced through the air towards the monster.\n\nThe duck wasn't even fazed, swatting the missiles aside with one of its gigantic wings as it delivered another one of those awful screeches.\n\nTime for plan B.\n\n\"Pincer formation!\" Harry yelled. \"You five, take the right side. Everyone else, come with me!\"\n\nTwelve horses charged from both flanks in a well rehearsed attack. The duck drove back the initial attackers, but it seemed that the sheer numbers would be too much for it. After eating several hooves and headbutts to the face, it decided that it had had enough. With another ear-piercing screech, it leaped up and flew into the air.\n\n\"Billy! Finish it now!\"\n\nBilly took aim with his cannon but the duck had other ideas. It cocked its head back before puffing out a red stream of fire, engulfing the cannon and poor Billy.\n\nAll around him, Harry could see that the other horses had frozen in awe and shock. They wouldn't be able to fight any more. Nor would he be able to take on this creature by himself.\n\nSo he did the only thing that he could. Speaking into his radio earpiece, Harry reluctantly gave the command and unleashed a fearsome weapon that had not been used in over two millennia.\n\n\"Base... activate the Trojan Horse.\"", "I don't think it turned out very well, but once I got started, I just could not stop. Sorry! Please be kind!\n*****\n\n“Tomorrow is the great duck hunt!” exclaimed Pfadlaufer, his face brimming over with excitement. Traces of sunlight filtered through the thick foliage and illuminated his dark brown coat. “I will finally become a real warrior steed!” He exclaimed, trotting down the narrow path, mindful of the large branches that reached out and threatened to scratch him. \n\nHis best friend, a white and black pony named Mondschritt, trotted alongside him, rolling her eyes at his enthusiasm. “The whole thing is a joke!” she laughed, “No one has seen a duck around these parts for almost a thousand years!”\n\nAnd this was true. No one had seen a duck for generations, so much so that many of the young ponies began to question if such a thing had ever existed, or if it was just a myth told by the village elders to scare little ponies around the campfire, just like the legends of the unicorns, great battle mares who once hunted the ducks from the land. All the same, a tradition had arisen – on a pony’s thirteenth birthday, he would venture forth deep into the woods with one of the village warriors, learning the way of the hunt. When he returned with whatever he killed, he would be dubbed a horse, and allowed to join the ranks of the warrior steeds, who protected the village and hunted for food. \n\n“Na-uh!” the brown foot-tall exclaimed, “My grandfather saw one when he was a boy. He said so himself!” \n\n“Your grandfather was just telling crazy stories again,” Mondschritt neighed in frustration. “This whole thing is just an excuse for boys to run around the woods, make strange noises, pretend to see a duck, ‘slay it’, and then drink fermented apple juice in celebration.”\n\nPfadlaufer sighed, “You just don’t understand because you’re a girl. All you have to do is learn to cook, clean, and raise ponies. You’ll never know what it’s like to go deep into the woods and hunt. You’re not a unicorn.” \n\nThis angered Mondschritt. Deep down, she secretly wanted to hunt, to fight, and to do everything that the boy ponies did – but it was not allowed. Secretly she trained with her older brother in the art of war, but she could never betray this to anyone, for fear of punishment. \n\n“Will never know what it’s like, huh?” she chuckled, leaning in, and with a sudden jolt, slamming herself gently into Pfadlaufer, knocking him off path and into the bushes. “Let’s find out right now! Bet you can’t keep up with me, slowtrot!” And with that she took off, like a bolt of lightning, deeper into the woods. \n\n“Wait,” Pfadlaufer exclaimed, “We’ve never gone this deep before! We don’t know what’s out there!” \n\nBut Mondschritt was too far ahead to hear, and kept running. “Stupid boy, what does he know?! I’ll show him. I can run just as fast, jump just as high, and neigh just as loud as he can!” \n\nAnd so the game began. For almost an hour, the two horses chased each other, deeper and deeper into the woods. The sunlight that trickled through the leaves began to fade, and everything was cast in an evening hue. \n\nPfadlaufer, tired from the chase, slowed his gallop to a trot and finally stopped, panting. He watched as the white pony disappeared behind a tree, and exclaimed behind her “Okay, Schritt, you win. Let’s head back – it’s getting dark.” \n\nBut he was answered only with silence. \n\n“Mondschritt?” he asked, trotting slowly forward. “Where did you go?”\n\nHis trot became a gallop, carrying him forward into the brush. But no sooner had he taken off, did his search come to end – he found his childhood friend standing alongside the edge of a hill, looking down. \n\nHe could hear running water as he approached her. From this angle he could see a look of shock upon the white pony’s face. “Hey, what’s the big...,” he began, though as he stood alongside her, he too fell into silence. \n\nThere, before him, swimming peacefully down the river, was a giant duck. It was exactly as the legends and myths had described – it was easily the size of a hundred horses piled atop one another into a mound, with feathers of yellow and a beak of orange. Its eyes looked like large spheres of the purest obsidian. Though peaceful now, if the legends were correct, it had a temper beyond anything imaginable – if it set eyes upon a horse, it would not hesitate to pursue it unto death. \n\n“Tha..tha..that’s a!” Pfadlaufer stuttered, bringing Mondschritt out of her daze. “I didn’t think they were real...,” she began, backing away slowly, all the while keeping her eye on the duck. \n\n“I…I have to warn the others!” Pfadlaufer exclaimed. “If it reaches the village, everyone will die.”\n\n“Let’s get out of here.” Mondschritt spoke, her voice cracking as she attempted to hide her fear. “This is the river that leads back to the village – if we run now, we can make it there long before it does.” \n\nAnd so the two of them took off, galloping as fast as they could. Fear had overtaken them, allowing them to push past their exhaustion. By the time darkness had fallen, they were on the outskirts of the village. Stumbling out of the woods onto one of the main paths, they ran into, quite literally, one of the old night watchmen, who trotted down the path every night with a lantern held in his mouth, keeping an eye out for trouble.\n\nThe watchman stumbled backwards from the blow, but quickly righted himself. He stared at the two young ponies before him, who were panting and sputtering incoherent noises atop one another. \n\n“Now wait just a minute, hold your ducks,” he began, but his poor choice of wording caused the frightened eyes of the ponies to open even wider – “Duck!” they both exclaimed. “There’s a duck!”\n\nThe old horse, Nachtpferd, neighed, silencing the duo. “Now, wait just a minute. A duck? Have you both gone mad? There hasn’t been a duck in these parts since time immemorial. It’s just a legend.” \n\n“No, it’s true! We really saw a duck!” Pfadlaufer shouted. \n\n“He’s telling the truth! It was huge! And yellow! Just like the stories!” Mondschritt added. \n\nNachtpferd was about to tell them to stop spinning tales and go home, but he stopped himself. Something wasn’t right about the way they looked; it was true fear that reflected in their eyes. The hair on their manes stood straight up, as though they’d just seen the Sensenpferd itself with its long scythe of death. Although it was against his better judgment, he whickered in exasperation. “Okay, fine. Let’s go to see the elders, maybe they can talk some sense into you.”\n", "\"BROTHERS. Do not be afraid, for we shall slay Quacker!\"\n\nIt was Era 93 of the Celestial Moon Phase. The army of one hundred horses were in an open field plotting something. The plot? To topple the the giant demon duck named Quacker. \n\n\"I am honored to charge bravely with my brethren\" said General Oats. Oats was a horse with a robot leg. A veteran from the previous nine assaults on Quacker's domain. \n\nI neighed in agreement with General Oats. Today was the day that we would finally take down the tyranny known as Quacker. \n\nWe then charged together as a herd to Quacker's nest located on the shores of a freshwater ocean. I felt prideful. We were a prideful bunch.\n\nThe skies grew dark and it started to rain. Nonetheless we charged onward. Nothing would stop us. The gloomy weather signaled the end to Quacker's terror. \n\nThere was an explosion. The charging herd was blown apart. Horses flew everywhere. Dust was everywhere. The cracking of many bones from the others could be heard as they fell back down to the earth. I couldn't see a thing. The last thing I heard was a deafening \"QUACK\". \n\n...\n...\n...\n\nI woke up laying on the ground. The dust was clearing. The rain had stopped. I looked up. Something was blocking out the moon. \n\n\"QUUUUUUUAAAAAACK\" roared the behemoth.\n\nIt was the demon duck Quacker. I was paralyzed in fear. Or maybe it was because my spine was injured. I couldn't move my legs. I stared up at Quacker in anger. Although we have failed, others will succeed. The duck will have to meet its end one day. \n\nSuddenly Quacker started to shrink smaller and smaller. He shrunk until he was around my size. My blood ran cold.\n\n\"Wait\" I thought. \"Quacker is...a horse?\".\n\nSuddenly the demon looked over in my direction. Oh no. He noticed I was still alive.\n\nI could not move as Quacker trotted towards me slowly. As he came closer, the moon's light shone on him. Wait...General Oats? \n\nGeneral Oats stood over me with red gleaming eyes.\n\n\"Quack\".\n\nHe raised his mechanical leg and brought it down on my face. \n" ]	6
	[WP] In a surprise unanimous decision the U.S. Supreme Court has ruled in favor of the defense, cementing the "I licked it, it's mine" precedent into law. The Great Lickening has begun.	[ "Jimmy Nabor found himself in possession of a harem of nearly a hundred women's vaginas. Just the vaginas, mind you. I always knew that man had game. \n\nIt wasn't all great, though. His dick was parceled off into various territories and equity bundles. Now he has to fill out paperwork every time he masturbates.", "I heard about the decision before anyone else in this hillbilly county did. See, I have a radio, and everybody else is an inbred sonofabitch. Except for Jenny, my neighbor. She's beautiful, but unfortunately is already married.\n\nSo of course I licked her entire body. Her husband tried to kill me, and that's why I had to kill him first. Now I live with Jenny, and I use every orifice she has, every night and every day.", "Jessica laughed at the TV. CNN was on with the latest in ridiculous politics. The conservatives were mocked by the reporters for believing that the transfer of property should be governed with old fashioned paper documents called leases, contracts and bills of sale. As if a piece of paper could ever determine ownership. \n\nGoogle had released long awaited biological enhancements to allow you to see the presence of DNA on an object and to smell another persons scent. The new law determined that if your DNA and scent was on something, it belonged strictly to you. The law had to be enacted prior to use of the enhancements so today they had established a legal precident and it would be the first day the enhancements would be activated. Jessica was in Washington DC and they had insisted on rolling out the upgrades from east coast to west coast. Everyone already had them installed, it was just a matter of Google activating them.\n\nJessica had about ten minutes until her new sensory upgrades would be active so she decided to take her dog Lily for a walk. \n\n\"LILY!!\" she called. Despite her older age for a dog, Lily bounded down the stairs ready to go outside. She jumped up and licked Jessica's hands and feet. \"Good girl!!\"\n\nAs they were walking outside, the upgrade went live. Jessica was aware of immediately being assaulted by all kinds of smells. Urine and saliva and feces flooded her nose and she could differentiate all of their sources. Her nose was inundated with the stench of all of the neighborhood dogs. She smelled her hands and began to succumb to an overwhelming feeling of servitude. Lily smiled and looked up waiting for the realization to sink in.\n\nThe dogs of the supreme court justices had done it. They now owned everything and everyone in the world. ", "Marvin was the first man to lick the stock exchange when the decision was announced, immediately making him the richest man in the world. The halls of his house were shinier than anything I had seen in years. His slick tuxedo definitely clashed with the dirty rags I wore as I walked behind him.\n\n\"What happened to you, Jim?\" He asked. \"I don't recall you ever being this badly off.\"\n\nI clenched my teeth. \"My ex-wife was in my house when the decision came out. She licked away everything I had.\" I had asked him for help. It took him over a year to respond. That meant a year of me living on the streets. I guess everyone was too busy licking themselves fortunes to care about those that weren't as lucky. Good thing it's basically impossible to be convicted for stealing food, these days.\n\n\"That's too bad, too bad.\" Marvin shook his head. We reached a part of the hall where the walls were replaced with windows. \"If you look to the left, you can see where I keep my piles of cash.\"\n\nMy mouth watered. I could just lick the window, bust it, and all that money would be all but mine. Marvin glanced at me. \"I wouldn't recommend licking it. I've coated every bill in cyanide.\" \n\nIt took all I had to stop myself from spitting on his velvet carpet. Don't mess up here, don't fall to pride, I thought to myself. I had bigger plans for Marvin than getting saliva on his floor.\n\nI noticed his wife approaching us. The rumors say that when they met, she was just a Dirtoungue. The government started employing them, after Putin licked Ukraine into the Russian empire, to lick the ground every couple of minutes to prevent some ambitious citizen from pulling a Coup d'eTongue. The employees were bound tightly by contract to prevent them from taking the country for themselves. They were considered the lowest dregs of society. But Marvin fell in love with one, and freed her from her contract and her social curse. I guess even assholes have hearts.\n\n\"So, Jim,\" Marvin began, his wife joining him at his side. \"We've called you here because we want you to work for us. Remember third grade?\"\n\nDo I remember? The day he took everything that mattered from me? My lunch, my allowance, my gameboy, my girl-friend, and even my pride, all licked away. It wasn't technically legal, but on that playground, Marvin made, confirmed, and enforced the law. I went home sobbing, hurt, and dirty, but no one could do anything about it. Fifteen years later, it still gives me nightmares.\n\n\"You lost in our little match that day, but you fought valiantly.\" Marvin smiled. \"You are the only man I've ever respected. How about we put the past behind us?\"\n\nI smiled as well. \"I'd be honored.\" That day may have faded into the recesses of happy memory for Marvin, but it was still sharp and clear for me. I had not forgiven him. \"The past is in the past.\"\n\n\"Exactly!\" He reached out his hand. \"Time to look towards the future.\"\n\nI shook his hand. It wouldn't be easy, but I was going to lick everything back.", " The Great Lickening \n\n \nThe year was 2045 and the population had reached over 50 billion, the Earth was overcrowded and only the rich had access to shelter, food and warmth. The extremely wealthy even having the privilege to own land. \n The World's leaders had gathered in the White House, which had recently been remodeled, reinforced with titanium coating and bunkers leading miles underground. Everyone feared for the worst as those many looked up to (and looked down upon) were about to decide the fate of billions, the worst being mass execution. That isn't what happened. In fact what happened was quite different.\n \nThe ever aging President Tekai stepped up to the podium, thousands of the highest paid journalists in the world hanging on his every word. \"We have produced an unanimous decision to the current poverty and over population crisis, one that we think will be fair to all. Under the new lawful ownership act of 2045 I declare that from now on, the first person to lick an item, property or other non-living object of any sorts. The proof of such ownership will transfer through the government official chip injected into the back of every humans neck into our global data base, hacked or jailbroken chips will not work. Whoever licks it keeps it.\"\n With that President Tekai worked off stage as the crowd of journalists rose to their feet in a roar, many shouting their questions of confusion while others had already catched on and attempted to slather their saliva on anything they saw only to find the White House had already been taken by President Tekai himself. \n\nThree hours later.\n\nThe world had gone insane, the rich became poor and some of the poor became extravagantly rich, people rushed to the streets and banks to lick anything they could find relentlessly, fights and riots started around the world. The Queen's Jewls now owned by a poorly paid security guard as he lifted the glass case and licked the famous crown, the pyramids were now the sole property of an obese British tourist with sand stuck in his teeth. The Great Lickening had begun.\n\nFive Days Later.\n\nEverything was taken, every pathing stone on the street was legally owned by whoever was desperate enough to lick the floor, that was the problem, people were desperate. They licked anything and everything and disease was beginning to spread relentlessly across the globe, however it was no disease ever seen before. People mutated. Their skin drooped and their muscles wasted, moaning and groaning from the pain piercing their body. The hospitals were shut and abandoned, people lay dead on the streets and an estimated three billion had already died. \n\nThe Great Sickening has begun.", "I was licked into slavery at the moment I emerged from the womb. The man who licked me was a good man. He was also of The Lickened. In fact, he was one of The First Lickened, one of the unfortunates licked soon after the bill was passed. He says he licked himself. I believe him. But without evidence he fell immediately info corporate control. He owned me, but he was owned by The Lickeners.\n\nThat was the company that now controlled most of the United States. The law didn't pass anywhere else in the world. It must have passed by fluke. The long lived \"Licking Law\" is idiotic by any standard. Maybe they all thought it was a joke and went along with it. But there were theories that, with his deep pockets, James Rattsmith lobbied the law through The Lickeners. As soon as the announcement was made, droves of his men began to take over by licking everyone and everything they could find, but they deny it. And no one can deny them. They controlled 98% of everything. Through a fluke in the law in fact, they licked the country. They owned the country when Rattsmith slid his slimy tongue across the constitution.\n\nBut we will never know for sure what truly happened. All of the history written at the time was written by The Lickeners. Most of the people who lived through The Great Lickening are now dead. I am one of the last. In fact, I am heralded as the man who ended The Licks.", "Justice Scalia sat high on his bench with a folio in his hands, preparing to read the opinion. Just before he started, Justice Kagan grinned, leaned over and extended a slobbery tongue, rubbing it down the length of the paper. Scalia shot daggers at her, but she cackled gleefully and grabbed the folder from his hands. \"Now I will read the opinion,\" she told the assembled dignitaries in the court room. But that was enough for the reporters to figure out the results, and the \"running of the interns\" began as they dashed from the Supreme Court building, skidded down the slippery marble steps, and over to the news van to report the results. One of them didn't even bother doing his job, but instead ran to the nearby parking lot to slobber over a bright red Ferrari. The headlines soon dotted every website: Licking was now the proper way to claim ownership.\n\nTongues could not move fast enough. Bill Henderson, tourist at the National Air and Space Museum, leaned across a velvet rope barrier and claimed control of the Space Shuttle Discovery. Billionaires were seen on the tarmacs of their private airports, licking the wings of their jets while hurrying back to their mansions (only to discover that most of them had been licked by a maid or something before they'd even gotten close). Others were busy sliding their tongues over stacks of bills and stock certificates. \n\nMost items were claimed pretty quickly, and norms were rapidly established to facilitate the new system of ownership. To sell an item, the vendor was required to scrub off his original tongue print before giving it to the owner to be licked. Flavored disinfectant was considered a necessary courtesy. Land would be transferred by planting a rock at the very center of the property, and giving that a good lick. Cunnilingus was banned under the 13th Amendment. Tongue dyes and saliva enhancers became all the rage. Kissing the bride at a wedding now required frenching. \n\nProblems soon emerged. What if two people licked the same thing in different places? What if two components were licked by different people before being combined together? What if a person licked something but his tongue was too dry to leave residue? Were licking machines permitted? Did a man have to lick every part of something to truly own it? Was licking your hand and then putting your hand on something considered licking? Did calling \"Shotgun\" before getting into a car trump someone licking the front passenger seat?\n\nCongress became embroiled in fierce political battles over Tongue Control, and after an acrimonious, year-long debate, a Constitutional Amendment was passed to overturn the Supreme Court decision and return the country to the predictable standards of contracts.\n\n-----\n\nAnd that, class, is your lesson in Constitutional Law for today. Your homework for tomorrow is to read the case of McPhearson v. Horton Elementary School, which will lead us into tomorrow's discussion of whether \"He who smelt it, dealt it.\"" ]	7
What are the exchanges with clients like? What's the weirdest method of torture requested? How do you phrase your ad Craigslist? Did anything ever go wrong? Feel free to answer all, some, or none of those questions! Edit: formatting and added phrase	[WP] You need some extra cash so you've decided to take up a side gig doing freelance torturing.	[ "Sometimes I consider granting my victims request. \n\"Just kill me!!\" They cry out, \"I can't take it!!\"\nI can't though, just keep doing what the boss says. Hit them, pull teeth, water torture, even some stuff involving anal beads and the action of pull starting a lawnmower. Not proud of it but the money is great.\n\nAside from the occasional broken hand and the off the wall ideas the boss hands down to me, I love this job, the only reason I still work at the bank is for medical insurance. \n\nFranky \"Four Fingers\" Scavelli sitting blindfolded and handcuffed in the chair just slightly off center as Louie and I strut into dimly lit room. \n\nThis wasn't Franky's first time in the chair. The last time the Louie had me remove a finger, hence the nickname Franky \"Four Fingers\". I wouldn't be surprise if this one ended with a bullet.\n\n\"Franky,\" the boss said with a condescending tone, \"Do we have to go through this again or are you going to tell me who all is involved.\"\n\nHe gives me a nod, so I start persuading Franky to speak. A quick punch to the gut to get started then one across the face.\n\n\"I Don't know what you're talking about!\" Franky spat out blood with his words.\n\nI hit him again, this time, square in the nose. It was definitely broken. Blood began to pour profusely from Franky's face. A couple more bare fists before getting the hardware out. \n\n\"C'mon Franky\" Louie commanded \"we all know what happened.\" I didn't and honestly, didn't care. \n\nBaseball bat to the knee. More screaming, more questions from the boss, more ignorance, from Franky. \n\nThis went on for a while, to the point I thought maybe Franky wasn't involved. I could tell Louie was getting upset. \n\n\"Fuck this,\" Louie said and gestured toward Ernesto the guard by the door, \"Bring her in\"\n\nThe door opens and a young girl around my daughters age comes in wearing a yellow dress to match her blonde pigtails and the most adorable green eyes\n\n\"Daddy?!\"\n\n\"Lucy!\" Franky cried out\n\nThe ran towards her father but was stopped by my out stretched arm. Louie came over to grab her.\n\n\"You're going to tell what I need to know, or the meat head over there is going to best you into a pulp in front of you're precious little girl.\" \n\nI have never said a word in these business meetings but I really felt like a line was being crossed.\n\n\"Uh... Louie \"my voice quivered in fear despite being twice his size.\n\n\"What the Fuck is your problem meat head\" Louie was furious\n\n\"I don't think...\" I didn't get to finish\n\n\"I don't pay you to think, you troll. Hit him\" \n\n\"I can't\" I dropped the blood stained bat. \"I won't\".\n\nLouie muttered to himself \"Well you know what the say, if you want some done right, you gotta do it yourself.\"\n\nThe last thing I remember was Louie's gun pointed at my head. I hope Franky gave up whatever secret he had. Otherwise, there maybe two little girls growing up without fathers.\n", "I did not know how he even got into this line of business. First and foremost, a career of this very nature attracted the worse possible crowds. I could never trust anyone. The thing I found funniest was the strict code on Craigslist for torturing ads. Code words were always used and ads were always placed in the women seeking men or men seeking women area.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nAds went something like this:\n> Man desperately in need to give love. Will accept huge amounts of cash in return for affection. Please email steveho@gmail.com\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nAfter the clients emailed, a brief conversation through email would occur and then a burner number was given. Then clients would call the burner phone and given a specific set of directions on writing a note and dropping it off in a busy mall, etc. I, along with my team, would spectate and make sure the individual was not followed and then grab the note.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nToday was just any other day waiting for a client to drop off a message. Apparently this client was in charge of multiple prostitution rings. I always justified my tortures and kills to make myself feel better, and I told myself upon receiving this client that this should be a easy kill. I've tortured and killed terrorists, men who have cheated on their wives, this should be no big deal.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nI proceed to see a tall individual in a blazer head towards the trashcan, bend over to tie his shoe, and then call my burner phone while dropping a note into the recycle bin. My burner phone starts to vibrate. I sit there patiently while the individual leaves and signal someone to follow him to make sure he doesn't come back and find out who I am.\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nAs I get the clear, I proceed towards the recycle bin to grab the crumpled note. My hands start trembling, I shiver, and proceed to break down. I bursts into tears... \"This can't be.....\" The client is my own mother...\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n", "I'm practically a veteran now. My hands don't even shake as I open the doorway that leads to yet another sterile work room. As ever, I think of Karla as the door swings open. I think of the years of treatment. Her smiling face on the day she graduated. She got to have a prom because of what I do. What I've done. \n\n\"Your government seeks patriots for assistance.\" The email was encrypted, and at the top of my inbox less than a week after my daughter was diagnosed. I'm still sure they knew how badly I needed the money for her treatments, and my answer was a foregone conclusion by the time I had arrived for the interview. \n\n\"You, of course, will be a freelance artist. You do understand that you will not be affiliated with the government, as we do not condone any form of torture?\" No name was ever given to me, just a smiling man, features too average to even merit description, wearing a basic black suit in a rented office space. He shook my hand and gave me a burner phone.\n\nThe phone rings. A mechanical voice gives me an address. There, I find a sterilized room, and my toolbag. It's the same process every time. Once I get the information they need, I call the only speed dial number and leave it as a message. A small fortune is deposited in a private account almost immediately. \n\nThe strangest part, really, is that Karla's been in remission for five years. I suppose old habits, and all that?\n\nI unzip my bag and turn to face my latest 'client'. The letter taped to his chest says that he needs to confess to a recent embassy bombing, and to implicate the dictator of a neighboring state that had recently discovered several new oil reserves. \n\nI study my own lifeless eyes in reflection of my scalpel as I address the nameless man. \n\n\"Are you ready to speak my friend?\"" ]	3
	[WP] Gods are manifestations of groups of like minds; "Atheis" has just come into existence and arrives on Earth trying to inspire her 'followers'.	[ "\"Listen, yes, technically, I don't exist.\"\n\n\"Yes, I realize this could be construed as a problem.\"\n\n\"No I do not have any noodly appendages.\"\n\n\"Will you please take this seriously?\"\n\n\"Sure I guess you could say rage memes are a temple to me, but that isn't quite,\"\n\n\"No for fucks sake imgur isn't holy ground.\"\n\n\"You know what, screw Portland, I'm going to the NYC meet-up, they seem cooler anyway.\"", "\"Well that's my point, actually. Unlike all these other 'supposed' deities, Atheis admits she doesn't actually exist.\"\n\n\"Alright Sarah, so how do you explain the rest?\"\n\nSarah shifts uncomfortably in her seat. I think I've struck a chord with this question. I notice the shift to camera three. They really want to capture her discomfort.\n\n\"Well, the same way you explain anything. You examine it. Test it. Vishnu needs to take a physical the same way I do if he's going to get a license.\"\n\n\"So you want to put these entities through lab tests? How can you justify that?\"\n\n\"No, you misunderstand. Clearly these are intelligent beings with the same rights as any nonhuman person. Sure, it's neat that Shinigami run around in Japan trying to harvest peoples' souls, but we should really consider the question at hand: do they have the right?\"\n\n\"Oh, so you're turning it around now and saying that human rights should limit the power of nonhuman dieties?\"\n\n\"Exactly. I don't expect Jesus to sit at home with a glass of water instead of wine just because I can't transmute the stuff, but at the same time, it simply won't do to have Kratos running around killing everyone he perceives is better than he is. You know, I get it. You think you're all powerful and then you find out you aren't so unique. It's the typical American narrative - grow up being told you're special and suddenly you're a tiny fish swimming in a giant sea of them-\"\n\n\"Sarah, let me interrupt you there because we have a guest on our show tonight - Harvey, bring him in!\"\n\nI try my best to conceal my grin. I had no idea she'd mention the most controversial of them all - a god conceived by a fanbase of gamers.\n\nKratos marches onto the stage looking royally pissed as always. I march across to greet him, my robes flowing behind me in their effervescent serenity. The audience is unable to contain its excitement at this point. Cries of 'Kratos, we love you!' ring out, and a large neckbeard races across the room to rush the stage.\n\nKratos, without hesitation, unleashes the wrath of his blades of exile, leaving a bloody pile where a faithful fan once stood. He spits, then eyes me. Is he sizing me up?\n\nHe sheathes his blades and reaches out his hand. \"Nice to meet you, God.\"\n\nI laugh as I grab his hand in return. \"Thanks so much for coming, Kratos! I'm you're biggest fan. Literally!\"\n\nWe both have a hefty chuckle at this. Sarah is visibly beside herself. She tries her best to creep out of the Fox News studio.\n\nI wag my finger. \"Uh uh uh,\" I say, using my omnipotence to force her to her chair and return to the interviewing table." ]	2
	[WP] Heaven is closed for renovation and Satan is on vacation. You, recently deceased, are waiting in line for judgement registration.	[ "crack crack crack\n\nBullets fly from the barrel of my AR-15, my fellow peers falling to the tile floor in a pool of blood. Students scatter down the hall, screaming and trampling each other in the process.\n\n\"Heh, pussies.\"\n\nI slide another magazine into the bottom of my rifle, cock the bolt, and take aim.\n\ncrack crack crack\n\nLead screams into the backs of fleeing pupils until finally the hallway is empty aside from littered corpses and scattered school supplies. More shrieks of terror echo from various parts of the school grounds. I choose a door at random, yanking on the locked door handle. All the doors are locked, the windows covered. They think hiding under desks will save them? Wrong.\n\ncrack crack crack\n\nWood from the door splinters in all directions, and with a single kick I knock it off it's hinges. Pivot, aim, fire. I empty my magazine into a group of students huddling in a corner, blood squirting on the walls and ceiling. Click, out of rounds. I toss my rifle aside and take my 9mm handgun from my belt. I walk out to the quite hallway and make my way to the nearest bathroom, locking myself in the handicapped staff. The faint sounds of police sirens approach, right on time.\n\nYanking off my military fatigues and combat vest, I place my rifle in the stall corner, pull out my box of homemade explosives from my vest, unclip my .22 pistol from my ankle, hop on the toilet seat, and take aim at the bathroom entrance.\n\nAfter hours of waiting, I finally hear the clatter of approaching combat boots, the whispered commands and hand signals of S.W.A.T officers clearing classrooms. Finally, they approach the entrance of the bathroom. I grab one of my homemade bombs, small segments of PVC pipes filled with gunpowder, and light it at the fuse. Just as the first officer pivots with his rifle raised, I toss the explosive over the side of the stall, destroying the bathroom entrance and shredding the entering officer.\n\nAnother officer peeks around the corner and fires in my direction, returned with a .22 round to the throat.\n\n\"Clear gas\". A small canister of tear gas flys under the stall bottom. Shit, wasn't expecting this. I light the remaining two explosives, run for the entrance, and throw them with all my force at the bathroom entrace.\n\nboom, boom\n\nTurning the corner with my pistols raise, I shut my eyes and unload. A bullet tears through my left temple, and I fall, drowned out as I enter darkness through the shouts of the remaining officers.\n\nI awaken shortly after, upright in an enormous grey room. A three person deep line extends across the room further then I could see. To the left was a red door, the right a gold door. In the center, a devil and an angel sat at desks, filing paperwork. Around me, fellow students stood with bullet wounds and blood-coated clothing, talking sullenly amongst themselves.\n\nAs they saw me spawn at the back of the line, they all store at me with intense hatred. Ermmm, awkard.\n\n\"Sorryyy???....\"", "\"Three hundred, eighty-seven million, two hundred sixty-six thousand, one hundred, twenty-two,\" droned a bored female voice out of the loud speaker above the solitary door. \n\nI glance at my ticket. Next in line. Finally. You die and then you have to put up with this shyte. Glancing around the giant hall, which looks like a massive replica of King's Cross Station, I spot a short, balding man squeezing his way through a sea of resistant people.\n\n\"Let me by,\" he squeaks, his ticket grasped tightly in his hand. Before he reaches the door, the speaker drones again.\n\n\"Three hundred, eighty-seven million, two hundred sixty-six thousand, one hundred, twenty-three.\" I leap up and rush to the door. We arrive at the same time. The balding man inserts his ticket in the door first. A whirring sound emanates from within the slot. Then a clicking sound and finally the sound of an inkjet printer. The ticket spits out with a new number printed on it, several million added to the previous number.\n\n\"No,\" the balding man shrieks, \"not again!\" He starts banging at the door. A gust of wind from a passing foot blows the ticket into the crowd. I shoulder the man aside and stick my ticket in the slot before the voice drones again. The door clicks open. I slip inside and push the door shut with my back, eyes closed, praying.\n\n\"Joseph Phillip Blackwell,\" the female voice says. It was less a question than a statement. I open my eyes. The room is small, dimly lit, spartan. A wooden table that has probably seen its fair share of interrogation rooms before being retired stood between me and the woman. She sat on a cushioned metal chair no longer sold by Ikea. Skoljarp, or something similar. The sister of that chair awaited my weight. I sat.\n\n\"Is it always this busy up here?\" I ask.\n\nThe woman looks up from a sheath of papers with a bored expression.\n\n\"Uh, sorry.\"\n\n\"You are to be judged,\" the woman begins.\n\n\"I'm a good --\"\n\n\"Don't interrupt,\" the woman says.\n\nI look down, chastised.\n\n\"You are to be judged,\" she begins again, \"but first I need to confirm preliminary information.\"\n\n\"Wait,\" I say. \"This isn't the final judgement?\"\n\n\"Is this where you want to have your final judgement? In a small room with an interrogation table and two ex-Ikea chairs?\"\n\n\"Uh, not really,\" I say.\n\n\"Then you're in luck,\" she says, bitterly. \"Because you're not going to be judged today. We just need to sort out a few details first.\"\n\n\"So, when will I be judged?\"\n\n\"How long have you waited outside?\"\n\n\"Seems like an eternity,\" I say, smiling.\n\n\"A sense of humor won't get you anywhere,\" she says.\n\nDuly chastised, again, I say, \"I think forty three years. Does this process always take so long?\"\n\n\"You're dead,\" she says. \"What difference does it make?\"\n\n\"Well, I'd like whatever it is next to start. This incessant waiting is driving me mad.\"\n\nThe woman scribbles a few comments in her notepad.\n\n\"What did--\" I begin, but she raises her pencil again to the pad and I freeze.\n\nShe looks at me and sighs. \"Very well,\" she says. \"You have one question, and only one question.\"\n\nI ponder my choices.\n\n\"But don't take all day,\" she says. \"People are arriving every second.\"\n\n\"What's the delay?\" I blurt out.\n\n\"At least you didn't ask about the doors,\" she says. What doors? I finally glance around the room to see a pair of doors behind her. I swear under my breath. \n\n\"Well,\" the woman begins, obviously relishing her moment, \"the renovations are going poorly upstairs. Clouds must be trimmed. I'm not at all impressed with His new color scheme. It's so last century. And don't get me started on the laminate. To make matters worse, Satan's taken a vacation. Claims it's been far too long since he could kick back and relax on a beach. Bimini, I think. You ask me, he's just doing it because Heaven is currently closed for renovation. He's just trying to make my existence a living hell.\"\n\nThe woman could see from the wandering expression on my face that I've lost interest in her complaining.\n\n\"Right,\" she says. \"Let's get on with it.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I respond.\n\n\"Your name's Joseph Phillip Blackwell?\" she asks.\n\n\"You know it is.\"\n\n\"So that's a confirmation?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"Okay,\" she says, pushing the legal pad to me. \"Sign at the bottom.\"\n\n\"That's all?\"\n\n\"It is for you,\" she says cryptically.\n\nI scrawl my signature between sweaty fingers with the sense that I blew the whole registration process.\n\n\"Through the door behind me,\" she says. \"The left door.\"\n\n\"What's behind the right door?\" I ask.\n\n\"You already had your one question,\" she says. \"Hurry up, people are waiting.\"\n\nAs I approach the door, she speaks into a microphone, \"Three hundred, eighty-seven million, two hundred sixty-six thousand, one hundred, twenty-four.\"\n\nOn the other side of the door is a huge chamber lit by colored stained-glass windows. A mawkish man wearing a white wig sits behind a massive oak table with a large, gilded gavel to his left. On the floor, a man in flowing robes of gray also wearing a powdered wig paces while a frail woman, seemingly small of stature compared to her surroundings sits on an overly large, but simple, bench behind the orator. The proceedings are projected on several massive flat screen TVs floating above them.\n\nI glance around me. The observation deck is filled with rows and rows of wooden benches large enough to fill a thousand coliseums. Glancing behind me, I no longer see the door I walked through, but more stadium seating filled with those, like me, waiting to be judged. Several vendors roam the aisles selling popcorn and soda.\n\nI sigh, then start searching for an open seat. Eternity looks like it will take much longer than I ever anticipated.", "Jack opened his eyes. To his surprise he was waiting in line. The walls were a smoky beige and signs hung every few feet reading, \"DO NOT CUT IN LINE\". A few seconds before he had been gripping his steering wheel as a semi truck barrelled towards him. Now he was at the back of a seemingly endless line of people. \n\n\"Excuse me?\" He tapped the gentleman standing in front of him. \"Do you know where we are?\"\n\n\"Fucked if I know buddy, last thing I remember I was having the best sex of my life. I close my eyes just before I shoot my load and next thing I know I'm here. How's that for shit luck?\"\n\nJack took one step to his right and stared down the line of people standing in front of him. He took one step to the side and started to move forward before a voice bellowed from nowhere \"NO CUTTING IN LINE!! GET BACK TO YOUR PLACE!\"\n\nUp ahead another man turned around, \"I tried the same thing two days ago. Next thing I know I'm in the back of the line with shackles on my feet. Don't push your luck my friend.\"\n\nBest Jack could tell, he was in some kind of administration office, only it was the biggest building he'd ever been in. The hallway stretched to a dark point and the entire left side was lined with what must have been hundreds of thousands of people. Jack thought for a second. Was he dead? Did the semi actually hit him or was this some sort of dream. He had done acid once before and heard the flashbacks were ultra surreal. \n\n\"Excuse me!\" He yelled up ahead. \"Does anyone know what's going on?\"\n\n\"You're dead you idiot, try not to be an asshole too! Some of us are trying to get some shut eye.\" \n\nThe man in the shackles looked back at Jack, \"Best I can tell, we're all waiting to be told where to go. You know, heaven or hell. My guess is, the majority of people are automatically assigned but there's a rare few that need to be judged. Explains why there isn't a newbie arriving every few seconds.\"\n\nJack contemplated. He figured he'd never been all that bad, but he'd never been all that good either. Sure he occasionally donated money, and he always took his mother's calls, regardless of the fact that she droned on for hours. He remembered stealing some 5 cent candy as a kid, but he felt really bad about it. Was he really in purgatory?\n\n\"Ladies and gentlemen\" a voice started from out of nowhere. \"We apologize for the delay but due to the schedule renovations and the unfortunate timing of vacation time, we regret to inform you that there will be a few delays.\"\n\nThe hallway exploded in a roar of verbal diarrhoea. Thousands of angry souls bellowing to be heard and tired of waiting in line. \n\nJack again leaned to his right. This was going to take forever. Although, he thought, I guess forever is all I have. \n\nThen a thought came to him. He wasn't allowed to walk forward, but what about if he went backwards? The hallway stretched the opposite direction and from what he could tell, there wasn't anything blocking his path. At the very least, he could stretch his legs. \n\nSlowly, he took a step backwards. Nothing. No voice. Then he fully turned to face the opposite direction. Still nothing. As quick as he could, he darted into a full on sprint. He barely heard the man that was in front of him over yelling over the sound of his own feet echoing off the walls of the hallway. \n\nThe further he ran, the better he felt. In fact, he'd never ran so fast in his whole life. His feet became a blur of motion below his body and he couldn't help but laugh as it started to look like they were in fast forward. Before he knew it, he was running so fast that light was starting to streak past his face, like a starship launching into hyperdrive. When everything went white, he closed his eyes and leapt. \n\n\"Doctor!! Doctor, I think he's awake!!\" \n\nJack was confused. The hallway was gone but now there was a terrible ringing in his ears. He opened his eyes and blinding pain shot through his skull.\n\n\"Jack... Jack, listen to me. You were in an accident. You've been in a coma for the past month.\"\n\nFor a few moments Jack looked around. He could see his body but couldn't bring himself to move his feet. No matter how hard he tried, nothing seemed to respond. \n\n\"Jack, you were hit by a semi-truck. You're alive, but unfortunately you're paralyzed from the neck down.\"\n\nWith his vision slowly returning, Jack saw a doctor standing by his bed. His wife was crying by his side, holding his hand and in the back of the room stood a large, dark figure. \n\nAs the doctor continued to explain Jack's situation, the dark figure rose to his feet and all sound left the room. A toothy grin stretched across a face void of any shape. Jack felt fear. \n\n\"You little shit\" the figure began. \"You running back to earth cut my vacation short. I've been working my ass off, 24/7 for the last ten thousand years and you go and pull a stunt like this?? I hope you're happy, cause you're in for a world of pain my friend. I'll be seeing you real soon. See you in hell Jack, you just signed your judgement papers.\"" ]	3
	[WP] A Hero becomes the most feared Evil Overlord for the good humanity.	[ "This is a crossover between 4 prompts.\n\nPart 1 is [here](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2turcu/wp_one_day_you_type_22_into_your_calculator_it/co301bu).\n\nPart 2 is [here](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2tttp2/wp_inaugurated_as_the_president_of_the_united/co31u56).\n\nJohn Doe sat his son down on the oval office chair. He had never told Jack a story. Not even a bedtime story when he needed one. His mum did that for him. He was too afraid of turning out like his father. Now that he was back, John was completely calm again, for the first time in 20 years.\n\nJohn himself sat on the floor. Jack seemed to like that. Most parents would sit above their children. John didn’t know why. He assumed all children loved to feel that sense of pride when they were higher than their parents. Although, to be fair, this was John’s first time doing this.\n\n“They say that long ago, before there were the seven continents, there was just one. Do you know what that one continent is, Jack?” \n“Pangea! We learnt about it in school! It’s so cool!” \n“That’s right. But they were wrong.” \n“It wasn’t called Pangea?” \n“No. Well, yeah. I guess. I doubt it was actually called Pangea. Some guy probably just made it up.” Jack grinned at the prospect of being right. John reached up and stroked his son’s hair. Jack smiled even more and fell off his chair, but John helped him back up. \n“So… What were they wrong about, dad?” \n“There wasn’t just one continent, there were two. The second one…” John paused for dramatic effect. “Was Atlantis!”\n\n“You mean that city that’s underwater?” \n“Exactly! But it wasn’t always underwater. It used to be great! Before it went to war with Pangea…” \n“You mean like now? I hate this war.” \n“Yeah. I know.” Jack jumped down and sat on his father’s lap. \n“Can I sit here now?” \n“Yeah, of course.” \n“What happened to Atlantis?” \n“It sunk. Pangea forced it to destroy itself.” \n“I don’t like Pangea.” \n“You should. We live in what used to be in Pangea.” Jack looked up at his dad, \n“I don’t want this to be Pangea.” \n“Good, because it’s not.” \n“But you just said –” \n“Dramatic effect.” John said this in a menacing voice so that Jack would laugh.\n\n“Our ancestor, the first John Doe –” \n“That’s your name, dad!” \n“I know.” He smiled. “Anyway, the first John Doe was a hero. An overlord. A president if you will.” \n“You’re just like him, right dad?” \n“I’m no hero.” \n“You are to me.” Jack hugged John for a few moments. \n“Anyway, people thought he turned evil. They feared him… He destroyed Atlantis.” \n“Dad…” \n“Yes, Jack?” \n“You’re not going to destroy the USA, are you?”\n\nJohn stayed silent. Jack got up from his lap. \n“Dad, you’re a hero! You’re not an evil overlord!” \n“Jack, let me finish the story! Please!” \n“Dad, don’t do it! Don’t destroy everything you love!” \n“Jack…” \n“Please. Please!” \n“Please let me finish the story.” \n“I can’t! I don’t want to stop believing in you!” Jack started to walk away.\n\n“Jack!” Nothing. “Jack!” The same thing. “Jack! We don’t live in Pangea! We live in Atlantis!”\n\nPart 4 is [here](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2tvsvu/wp_the_usa_collapses_its_economy_its_government/co34tdd).\n\nPS: Slightly different style to the other parts, but I hope you like it all the same... And the other parts as well.\n\nPPS: I'd suggest copy and pasting into a word document to make it easier to read. The line spacing is really small and it's kind of hard to read because of that... It's nothing against reddit, just for me at least, it's harder to read. If you're fine with reading a story like that, then all the better.", "\"It hurts,\" he whispers. \"Dear Gods, it hurts.\" Tonight, he lies in her arms, his wide, musclebound frame wrapped up in his mate's petite embrace. She looks like a burr stuck to the fur of a great beast, and at first glance the difference in their sizes seems almost comical. But there's a gravity here...one that even his enemies, were they to witness the moment, would have to respect.\n\n\"It's for the greater good,\" his mate says. Her heart is breaking for him, but it isn't her time to show it. It will never be her time to show it - not to him, at least. Not to him...not about this.\n\n\"That's not the problem.\" Tears have soaked dark lines into his heavy beard. He has not cried since before he could grow hair on his face. \"I've always done what will yield the most good...even when it means that bad has to come to those who don't deserve it.\"\n\nHe is big, quick, and strong. He is kind, intelligent, and wise. But so are many. What this man has, that no others do, is The Sight...\n\n\"The part that hurts the most is not all the lives that I will take, or the horrors I will inflict upon the living...it's knowing that there's someone else...someone who can do more good for the world than I. Someone whose deeds I can never...ever...measure up to.\" His voice cracks. \"It kills me to discover that I haven't been doing good for its own sake. That I'm a fraud-\"\n\n\"Hush,\" his woman says. She knows his heart better than he does. She knows that he loves the praise, she knows that he wanted the legacy...but she knows that such desires don't make him bad. Not in her eyes.\n\n\"I always thought I'd be The Last,\" the man says. There's tearful anger in his voice now, and he's forced to speak between his teeth in order to speak at all. \"I thought I could save them all. The Sight never showed me anything different. But...\" His misery threatens to overcome him, but after a few seconds he prevails. \"But after everything...after all of the good I've done...it turns out I'm not to be The Last Hero. I'm to be The Last Evil-\"\n\n\"None of that talk.\" There are silent tears streaming down the woman's face. Somehow, she manages to keep them out of her voice as she strokes his hair. \"None of that.\"\n\nHe lets out a baleful moan, and there is silence between the two. A silence that lasts for hours. Neither sleeps in the darkness, and neither speaks.\n\nFinally...\n\n\"What would happen if you didn't do it?\" she asks.\n\n\"He would live a simple farmer's life. His father would teach him to tend the fields. His mother would teach him to be kind to all those he meets. He will marry a plain, but cheerful woman who makes him happy, and they will have healthy children and a loving home, and he would die peacefully at the end of a long and simple life.\" He sniffs loudly, clearing his nose and his throat. \"And humanity would be in just as much trouble as it always has been.\"\n\nThe hero has recovered. He pulls away from the arms of his lover and sits up in his bed.\n\n\"He will hate me, for taking that away from him,\" he says. \"And he will never know why I had to do it. He will never know that without me, he will have no reason to rise, no reason to fight, no reason to lead humanity to the ultimate peace. He will never know what The Sight has shown me...that the future of our race rests on the death of his family and the rape of his homeland by my hands...\"\n\nHe looks down at those hands, the ones that have saved the lives of thousands, the ones that now must kill in order to save millions. Scarred and weatherbeaten, with crooked fingers from hundreds of battles...hands that now seek to mold the future of the world like a ball of cool clay. The hands become fists.\n\n\"I will stay with you,\" the woman says. It is not a promise. It is a fact, and there is no room for discussion. The hero nods, then rises from the bed and prepares for his destiny.\n\nThere is nothing more that needs to be said. " ]	2
	[WP] Plankton finally gets the Krabby Patty Secret Formula. And the truth isn't at all what he expected.	[ "\"Today is the day, my petite ordinateur\", I told my computer wife Karen. \"Everyday is always the day...\", she sighs. \"Was that French? Do you think speaking a different will 'turn me on'? I have millions of language on my network. I can speak cavefish! Don't think you can-\" she ranted on. I tuned her out as I reached my plankton-noculers to see across the street. \n\nSuperb!, I almost shouted aloud. Mr Krabs drove away in his Sea-cattlelac. The sponge boy is in tears. \"I WONDER HOW BAD YOU'LL BE TEARING LATER. . MWUAHAHA\" I erupt. \"-I can speak c, c+, c++\" she was still ranting, until she stopped with a \"OH Sheldon! ;)\". She nearly short circuited herself! If I could I'd probably be aroused right now! \n\n\nAnyways... Time for that \"formuler\". " ]	1
	[WP] Killing another human has a hidden effect nobody realized before - the person most responsible ceases to age for a duration of one hour for every year of their victims life. It wasn't until the advent of weapons of mass destruction that we realized the truth of this.	[ "\"Man believed in God since the beginning of time. Whether that manifested as a caring hand, a heavenly father, a warrior to tell stories about, or a penniless prophet. What they didn't realize that anyone of them could have been a god, if only they dared,\" the priest said. He grinned to himself as the audience applauded.\n\n\"Five hundred thousand years ago, The Destroyer found the secret to secret to true power- he discovered how to create hellfire from nothing but the most basic things in the universe, and we used his hellfire, and his withering disease, to take our section of the galaxy for ourselves. We took to space, the frontier that our ancient ancestors once believed insurmountable, and used our God's hellfire to bathe the planets of the furry chersa, the horned tarsh, and our most persistent enemy, the gray fuur. Every time we take a life with our God's power- whether it is human or alien, we honor our Destroyer, and increase his time with us. We even melted planets to slag, in order to confirm our God's title as the Destroyer of Worlds!\" the priest proclaimed, and paused again for applause.\n\n\"So, it is my most high pleasure to announce that our living God is among us today!\" Gasps and surprised shouts flooded the air as a hover car drifted over the heads of the zealots, and they saw Death, as well as two guards.\n\n\"All hail Death, the Destroyer of Worlds!\" the priest shouted, and the congregation echoed the joyous proclamation. In the hovercar, Oppenheimer, the God of Gods, wished he could use his so-called powers on himself. ", "A plume of smoke wafted up to join the haze that clung to the chamber's ceiling. The man who held the cigarette smiled at his guest's discomfort before placing the burning roll of paper into an ash tray, but not extinguishing it.\n\n\"Perhaps I should be worried about lung cancer, yes?\" he inquired with an accent that hadn't been heard in decades outside of archival newsreel footage.\n\n\"I suppose that would be...silly,\" his guest conceded, though the younger man's eyes had followed the cigarette as it had been lowered and his expression of distaste had not diminished.\n\n\"Do you know why you are here, Mr. Gonzalez?\"\n\n\"Of course,\" the man named Stephen Gonzalez responded, hoisting the briefcase he had arrived with. \"For the annual review of your...department.\"\n\n\"A strange thing to call a single man,\" the speaker replied. \"The Department of External Continuity.\"\n\n\"Well, the government prefers that very few people be aware of the contents of report 060849-7c. At last count--aside from you and me--only seven people are aware of the report or its ramifications.\"\n\n\"Naturally.\" The speaker reached for the cigarette again, but stopped himself as he glanced back at Gonzalez, who had already set his suitcase on the table and undid the clasps.\n\n\"We have noted several worrying trends in DEC activity over the last eight months,\" Gonzalez said as he withdrew a slim manila envelope and withdrew a small sheaf of printed pages. Tabulated columns were printed in practically microscopic font, with hand-written markings over the pages. At the bottom of the last page, several entries were circled in red. \"We are seeing increased activity in China, of all places. We expected the Middle East to remain your primary sphere of action.\"\n\n\"Pollution,\" the other man replied easily. \"Turns out the concentration of wealth also results in the concentration of culpability for crimes perpetrated in pursuit of that wealth. We don't know who decides where fault lies--it certainly has nothing to do with the local laws--but we must guarantee that nature takes the course we all expect it to.\"\n\n\"I see...I suppose I can see that. Very well, we will take steps to corroborate your claims, but other than that, we see no irregularities with the DEC's operations. This should not take too much longer, Colonel Tibbets.\"\n\n\"Please, call me Paul,\" He said in his sixty-year old accent as he reached his thirty-year old hand back to the cigarette.", "His hand trembled uncontrollably as he lifted the barrel of the weapon to his temple.\n\nAll he'd wanted was to have control over his own life - he'd become a monster to do so. He'd led his nation into a war, earning decades. Ordering the deaths of millions more had given him even more life.\n\nHe'd even been desperate enough to begin development of a fission weapon. If everything had gone well, he would have lived for hundreds of years.\n\nEverything hadn't gone well, however, and here he was now - malnourished, defeated, and weeks from death. Aging wasn't the only way to die, after all. \n\nHe'd surely be executed for war crimes - there was only one way left to maintain control of his own life.\n\nWith trembling fingers, Adolf Hitler pulled the trigger.\n\n----\nQuestions? Criticisms? Want to see more? Check out more of my stuff at /r/Draxagon", "A world of nothing stretched forever,\n\nA sighing, voiceless place.\n\nA calling, quiet, ending tenor,\n\nA long forgotten race.\n\nI had watched those towers fall,\n\nSaw fire burn in the sky.\n\nI listened to the bullets sing,\n\nAnd heard the living cry.\n\nBut long ago was this torture,\n\nFar and far away.\n\nI lived alone, atop a throne,\n\nand dream of that day.\n\nFew had seen as much as I,\n\nand fewer still could see.\n\nFor I am become Death,\n\nDestroyer of worlds,\n\nand burned the land and sea. ", "Mr. Harold Truman slowly twirls in his chair, fingering the folds in his suit-coat. His head rests on the back of a well-crafted office chair that is positioned behind a desk heaped with documents and folders and other things of seemingly large import. His face is dressed with the stoic mask of a man beset by his own emotions. He releases a deep-bellied sigh that elaborates the current state of his visage.\n\n\nSeemingly unchanged since the days when Harry Truman was a household name, he is still marked by birdish features and his signature gold-rimmed eyeglasses. Roughly 700 years have passed since the waves of battle and victory had made this man occupy the headlines of the world, yet he persists. If one were to peruse the dusty tomes of history, forgotten in the bosom of ruined libraries and on the shelves of eccentric scholars, one would find that former president Truman had passed in the early 1970s. So the public was made to believe. So history was made to keep record of. \n\n\nAs is apparent now, that is not the truth. The real circumstance is that Truman lives, granted a (professionally) estimated 702 years, as a prize from the unknown for his reaping of souls. Centuries have come and gone since the tragedies at Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Worlds and histories have been known and forgotten like whispers in the void. \n\n\nNow, in the year 2646, Truman's heart slams among his viscera, an engine driving his desires against a headwind of faded morality. He lets his feet come to a rest on the wooden floorboards beneath him, putting an end to the rotating of his office chair. His left index finger comes down on a small machine, fumbling for an even smaller button. He finds it and the machine chirps.\n\n\n\"I've made my decision. Call him.\" Truman grumbles in the direction of the machine. The voice of a woman tinged with the springs of youth echoes from it. \n\n\n\"At once, sir.\"\n\n\nClick.\n\n\nRing.\n\n\nRing.\n\n\nClick.\n\n\nA voice bellows from the machine, \"Hm? Ya?\"\n\n\n\"Heinrich. I need...\" Truman, unsteady and hesitant, delays his speech. He erupts, \"I need your help. It's time.\"\n\n\n\"I've been waiting for this call Herr Truman.\" Himmler smiles and adjusts his glasses. \"We meet tomorrow.\"\n\n\nClick.", "His hands that had earlier trembled with desperation were now steady and methodical. As he removed the knife and blood began to pool around him he groped for the wallet and removed the late mans identification. June 16 1988 the Id indicated. \"I have another twenty six hours.\" the man muttered under his breath as he climbed into his truck and sped away. Twenty five hours and his hands would start to tremble. ", "The boy shot himself.... And immediately woke up. \n\nWhat the crap? Why didn't I die? Now he started to rethink his situation. Do I really want to die? It was easy the first time, on impulse... Is the universe trying to tell me something? The young man tried again. He reloaded the gun, and pulled the trigger. And he woke up again. \n\nThe hell? What's happening? He started to ponder this situation. He decided he would wait till tomorrow. Maybe he was just dreaming. \n\nA couple hours later, as he was making fond memories of his last day on earth, he suddenly crumbled into dust, and ceased to be. ", "The heavy door slammed into place with a clang. Stefan slid the iron grate down, and stared at the prisoner inside. Despite the egg heads telling him otherwise, what he saw perpetually amazed him, and sickened him to his stomach. The man flicked his eyes up from the book he was reading, glared, and returned to its contents. His jet black hair and piercing gaze burned deep into Stefan's memory, a defiance born of centuries of hate.\n\nStefan felt disgust, bitter and twisted coiling in his stomach at the thought of this man being kept alive. Yet, for all that there was something deeply ironic about the man's core beliefs being twisted into a life locked away for said thousand years. He carefully shut the grate, months spent slamming teaching him the man inside cared nothing for his disdain.\n\nHe moved off down the corridor, the light spilling from under other doors casting his shadow across onto the opposite wall. Centuries had snuffed most of the lights, cremated ashes all that remained of the former inhabitants. Stefan read though the list on his pad, names ingrained as sirens to a darker age. He felt no pity for any of them, the thought of millennia of confinement without relief comfort enough for their crimes.\n\nHis earpiece chirped, \"Shultz here, I have completed my rounds. Herr Hilter is buttoned up for the night, and the rest of the prisoners are quiet. Returning to command, out.\"", "Kennedy stood hunched over his desk in the center of the oval office. He had turned the lights off, knowing that darkness helped him think better. He looked at the control panel in the corner of his desk; in the center was a small yellow button.\n\nNever in his life did he think he might have to press it.\n\nThis button sent a signal to the Secretary of the Department of defense, signaling him to launch on the USSR. Kennedy had sneaked looks at this button far too many times, but never had the courage to hit it. The Soviets looked ready to flex their muscles, and Kennedy did not want to be the second to fire. \n\nBut thousands, maybe millions, would die.\n\nKennedy was all too familiar with the repercussions for his country if he launched. He would certainly prompt the Soviets to retaliate. The Cold War would be over, one way or another, in a matter of days. Whether there was anyone left to declare a victor was another question.\n\nKennedy knew the story of Truman. Eighteen years ago, Harry dropped the two bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. In those eighteen years, he should have been killed. Yet he lived on, almost without aging. He was checked by the best scientists and doctors his country could offer; the results were staggering. From that day in 1945, Truman would live, without gaining an hour of age, until 1972. \n\nKennedy's hand hovered, shaking over that little yellow button. With a twitch of the wrist, he would end countless lives. Would he be a hero? Would he be celebrated if the Soviets followed through on MAD? He imagined walking through a decimated New York City, being taunted and cursed by the few surviving Americans who voted him into office. \n\nWould he want to live for this?\n\nHe retracted his hand into his pocket. The launch could wait another day, for another president. Kennedy would not be kept alive to see his country come to hate him. He picked up his suitcase off the couch in the office and departed to his private plane, bound for Dallas, Texas.\n\nEdit: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think, I'm always open to suggestions!" ]	9
	[WP] A man claims to be from the future. You ask for proof, and what he shows you removes all doubt.	[ "\"Seriously, I'm from the future\" he said, \"and I'm going to need all the cash you have on you.\"\n\n\"I'm gonna need some proof if you expect me to buy th...\"\n\nBefore you finish your sentence he shoves a note in your hands with the message you are reading right now. You laugh and hand him the $20 in your pocket.\n\n", "\"I'm from the future!\" he said. \"Give me all your money and I'll give you this book containing the results of all horse races for the next twenty years!\"\n\n\"Prove it,\" I said.\n\nHe pulled out an obviously fake ID. It featured a stock photo of a man supposedly named Jacob Smith who was born on May 19, 2092. I was stunned speechless.\n\n\"Did you seriously expect that to work? You're the worst scammer I've ever met! And that book is just a dictionary! I mean, I thought you might be serious until I saw that ridiculous ID. That just removed all doubt.\"", "\"I'm from the future!\" Why didn't I think about it more? I asked for proof, and he showed me a picture of a futuristic city. For some reason, this made me believe him beyond all doubt.\n\nHe explained he needed my help to prevent a future genocide. But to do so, I needed to kill someone else. Why didn't I question this?\n\nNow I'm going to be in jail for life just because I never questioned if the man was mentally ill, and if the picture could be PhotoShopped.", "\"Who do you think wrote that?\"\n\n\n\"You?\"\n\n\n\"Or you, maybe, my infinite reflection of light made more complicated to unfold, the reality simulation device flexes its processing power, but still it takes time to break down\"\n\n\n\"The entropy given stored in memory to recreate an exact time and place on the reality simulation machine\"\n\n\n\"and I've been here enough times to make the perfect statement that rhymes in iambic, \nWe aren't the same time travelers just exactly what was necessary to get here\"\n\n\n\"The energy breakdown, entropy, recycled positive and negative, there is not nothing.\"\n\n\n\"Nothing ever is.\"\n\n\n\"Holy shit.\"\n", "\"Hey kid, wanna see some technology from the future?\"\n\nI was normally cautious of strangers, but this incredible offer had to be heard out.\n\n\"sure, I guess. What is it?\"\n\n\"Just watch\" he said, pulling out a laptop. He brought a small USB stick out of his pocket, and effortlessly plugged it in on the first try.", "The music was thumping, the lights were screaming and the wall of the club were dripping with sweat. It was Friday night and as usual we had gone to the Place. \n-\"A quiet one\" James had said to me over the phone 5 hours ago. \nIt was now one in the morning and I was drunk as fuck. \n\nA pint of Gin and Tonic, that's all it took. Why on earth did I decide to drink that at the pub? That's where everything tipped off, that's where the night changed; from boring talks on the latest event of the week to the right and wrong of the death penalty; from half-hearted questions where the answer doesn't matter as much as the question to embarrassing confessions about the real reason you were late on Tuesday. All of that because of James, all of that because he had decided that we needed to make \"real\" connection with the people I had been working with for 4 years. \n\nIt had been the casual \"let's go somewhere else\" when the pub had closed that led us to the Place. the latest club in town. And there we were, drunk, barely able to speak to each other, still wearing our work clothes - a 10 year old suit with tintin tie for me - and smoking as if lung cancer didn't existed.\nWhilst pretending not to care, we were all trying to make contact. A quick glance to the left, a swift look to the right and a hand in the air to prove each other that we were having a good time.\nSuddenly, it happened, it never happens usually, but tonight it did. Someone hot looked at me, a tight pair of blue jeans, two buttons down on a shirt colored with what looked like vomits, bright blue hair and smilling eyes. James winked at me and I made my move. Before I could realize, we were kissing. I had no idea how it happened but it did and I was quite happy about. For once I was the one getting some, and I knew that on Monday I was going to be at the center of conversion at The Gayrald, a daily newspaper treating exclusively about gay news in the world.\nWhilst lost into my thought and not realising what was happening I heard:\n-\"do you wanna go downstairs?\": The hot guy was talking to me. \nNext thing I knew we were making out in the toilet of the club when suddenly he turned around and dropped his pants. He looked at me the eyes and said:\n-\"you're in for something very special, just relax and enjoy\".\nI looked down and saw what he meant. He didn't have an anus, instead a there were was a circular device made of metal, about 5cm wide that slowly opened as I looked. It filled with a blue, gel-like floating substance, kinda like one of those bubble blowing thing. \nHe saw the look of my face and reiterated: \"relax and enjoy\".\nI don't what made me but I did, I relaxed, and inserted my penis into this metal whole filled with blue stuff and it felt amazing. \nSo good that I couldn't hold any longer and came. Normally that didn't happened, or at least I kept telling me that, but this time it was different, it was like all my nerve were telling my brain that this was pure happiness and it certainly felt like it. \nUnfortunately reality came back. With a terrified expression of the hot guy's face: \n- \"you didn't wear a condom?\" he said in alarming voice.\n- \"no, why?\" I replied panicked. \n- \"my anus is not a simple anus, it is a Stargate!!I come from the future, I had that installed a few days ago after my colonscopy, It opens onto new dimensions, new civilizations, you just jezzed a primitive civilization!!\": he explained in despair.\n- \"Is it really that bad?\" I replied with a voice that wanted to sound serious but probably ended up sounding like a drunk hamster. \n- \"nah, it's alright, I've done it plenty of time but next time you will know not to do that\" he said in a calmer voice. \nHe disappeared and I went back upstairs at the sounds of Katy Perry and that is the last thing I remember from that night. \n\n", "Just another day, another morning jog through Valmoor Park. It was one of the safer places in the big city to jog. Muggers very honorably stuck to only robbing people at night, and left when the sun came up. The kind of place where city workers picked up the empty beer cans, used condoms, and broken glass pipes every day at 7 am sharp. I usually went jogging at about 7:30.\n\nThey couldn't do anything about the homeless, though. The ones who'd found bushes or hidden culverts in the night, and woke with the sun. They sat on park benches, holding either full cups of coffee they'd bought at 7-11, or empty ones, held out ready for your pocket change. My running shorts had no pockets, and no change. I ignored these folks. I was on a mission. My waistline was the enemy, and at 38 years old, the battle was being hard fought. A new clash of calories versus movement, every morning.\n\nAnd then, one day in the summer of 2014, my battle was interrupted. \n\nI was rounding the trail bend where there's a children's playground, about 400 yards from the lake. Didn't really notice her as I passed. Just another homeless old gal, sitting on a bench, staring at me when I ran past. At that moment, I couldn't have even told you what she was wearing. I was in the zone - 1 mile down, 2 more to go. Alice In Chains pumping in my earbuds. Feet thudding the paved jogging trail.\n\nShe yelled it loud enough to be heard over the music.\n\n\"CHRISTOPHER!!!\"\n\nI stopped, turned. She stood next to the bench, eyes and mouth forming a trio of wide circles. Looking at me not just like she knew me, but like I was some kind of celebrity. I knew immediately that I'd never met her in my life. \n\nOne earbud popped out. \"Excuse me?\"\n\nTears spilled out of her eyes like a waterfall as she blinked, struggling for words, and started walking toward me. One of her dirty hands was outstretched. \n\n\"Chris,\" she said, voice cracking. \"Oh my god. It's... what are you doing here?\"\n\n\"Do I know you?\" I refused to take a step back, but realized I would soon if she kept reaching for me like that. \n\n\"I...\" She stopped. Her arm dropped like a flag when the wind suddenly quits. \"Oh god. I don't know how to answer that. You will?\"\n\nAt that second, this story might have stopped. I was tempted to say something like \"Whatever, lady,\" and continue my run. She could have guessed my name, and she was probably just another homeless crackhead.\n\nBut as I looked at her, I realized she wasn't decked out like most homeless folks. Her hair was shoulder-cut, brown with a fair heaping of grey. The shirt she wore, although soiled, looked like something out of a designer boutique. Cream colored, with cutouts in the arms that showed her shoulders and elbows. What I'd first thought were dirty jeans, on closer inspection, were rayon women's slacks in dark blue. Rather than sneakers, she wore some strappy pumps that might have cost a lot, in good condition. \n\nI stared into her face for a good fifteen seconds. No bells ringing. I was positive of that. In my job, it was absolutely vital that I remembered names and faces. \n\n\"How do you know me?\" I asked, taking the other earbud out. My pulse stayed high. Sweat dampened my various parts that get sweaty on a run. \n\n\"I... we were lovers. Will be? Fuck.\" She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, finally looking away from me. Her smile was sardonic. \"This is really hard to explain.\"\n\n\"Oh really?\" I couldn't keep the sarcasm out of my voice. This chick was somewhere bettween fifty and eighty, in that way a lot of homeless women look. No way in hell we'd ever been in bed. \n\n\"Not now. Later. Fuck. Please. Don't run away.\"\n\n\"Look,\" I said, glancing at the smartwatch on my wrist. \"I have to be at the office in two hours.\"\n\n\"Christopher Emmanuel Hodgson, I know you well. Please just hear me out?\"\n\nThat one sent ripples down my spine. I never tell anyone my middle name. \n\n\"You snore,\" she continued. \"It's one of the reasons your first wife, god, uh... Casey? Left you. That and the not wanting kids thing.\" She started walking toward me again. \"You take your coffee black when you can't get espresso with milk. You... you only eat steak cooked well done, although you never told me why. And you love scuba diving. Especially in New Manchera Bay.\"\n\n\"No, ah, wrong,\" I finally sputtered. She was three feet from me. Close enough to stab me, if she was a lunatic. But there was nothing in her hands. \"I've never scuba dived in my life.\"\n\n\"Right. But you will.\" Carefully, as if approaching a wild animal, she reached out toward my hand. \"I'm not from here, Chris.\"\n\nI snatched my arm away. \"What?\"\n\n\"I'm not from now. I know this sounds ridiculous, but I'm from the year 2039.\"\n\nI laughed. I couldn't help it. It wasn't that her words struck me as funny. The situation was just nuts, and I let out some tension in that laugh.\n\n\"Okay, freak, whatever,\" I said.\n\nBut her eyes had gone cold. Her brows furrowed together, and she squinted in a way that brought her crows' feet into sharp relief. The edges of her mouth tilted down in disappointment. \n\n\"You don't believe me. I get it.\"\n\n\"Nope.\" I backed away, reaching up to put my buds back in. \n\n\"But I know all about you Chris,\" she continued. There was a knife edge to her words. \"I know about what you did in San Jose.\"\n\nI froze. \n\n\"Yeah,\" she said, nodding curtly. \"I know. Everything.\"\n\n\"Lady, I went to college there. Is this some kind of stalking thing? Did someone...\" I looked around, trying to fight the ice in my chest. \"Who put you up to this?\"\n\n", "The red of my knuckles faded to a stark white as I tightened my grip on the doorframe, debating whether or not I should stop my sudden visitor from wildly unplugging my various living room appliances. Physically confronting a crazed individual was a decidedly bad idea, so instead I watched, and I waited. One thing was clear; I should have never let this man enter my home.\n\t\nAn eternity of minutes passed while I watched him wander the room, his eyes flicking about wildly while muttering incomprehensibly under his breath. Perhaps when he realized he had run out of plugs he would take his vendetta against electronics elsewhere, I mused. In fact… \n\n“Hey, uh, buddy? Looks like you got all of them. They won’t be hurting anybody anymore, eh? Heh…”\n\t\nMy shaky laugh was cut off with an upturned index finger, held back at me while the other ran along the wall into the corner. It began to probe up and down, searching for something that wasn’t there as his other hand dug in his pocket. \n\t\n“Ethernet cable was over there man, you already got it. There’s nothing…”\n\t\nAgain I was cut off by his brandished digit, though this time there was what looked to be a fishing hook clasped between his thumb and middle fingers. I exhaled sharply as he began to scratch at the tan paint, thoroughly fed up with the whole situation. Preparing to give him a piece of my mind I stepped forewords, my clammy and achy hand balled up from grasping the frame for so long. My protest died in my throat however, as a triumphant bark of laughter resounded through the room. Going in with the hook, the strange man pressed and tugged, producing a thin beige cord from the once flat surface. Not pausing for a second, he brought the wire to his mouth, ripping through it with a quick jerk of his neck and grind of teeth.\n\t\nHis shoulders slumped as he turned to look back at me, grinning wide and brushing his matted white hair back. \n\t\n“There,” he gestured at the couch, “now we can talk.”\n\t\nTaken aback by his sudden shift in demeanor, as well as the unveiling of the previously hidden wire, I remained standing in the doorway.\n\t\n“N…no, I think I’ll stay standing thanks.”\n\t\n“Suit yourself.” He shrugged, taking the seat himself. \n\t\nI stepped back between the frames, awkwardly propping myself up with an arm as I tried to treat this stranger like an old friend, if only for my sake. \n\t\n“So…” I looked everywhere but the sofa, “what brings you by? Were you like, a previous tenant or something?”\n\t\n“Nope, never been here in my life. Nice place by the way.” \n\t\n“Well then… “I peered at him with concern “Why are you here?”\n\t\nHe shifted around awkwardly, staring at the ground as he struggled with something internally. After a few openings and closings of his mouth, he sucked in his breath and said:\n\t\n“I… Heh. I just thought I should come visit my brother.”\n\t\nThe room grew cold as my rage built, my fists now clenched in anger.\n\t\n“My brother is dead asshole. Been dead for years.”\n\t\n“He’s not. I mean, I’m not. And it gets worse” he smirked, “I’m also from the future.”\n\t\n“Awesome. Of course you are.” I pulled out my cell phone and brandished it at him, “I’m calling the cops.”\n\t\nHis eyes grew wide and pleading as he put his palm up. “No, Wait!” He lifted his shirt and stood, his back facing me. “I’m not lying.”\n\t\nThe only sound in the room was the echo of my phone impacting the floor.\n\n(All I had time to write tonight, I’ll try and post more tomorrow hopefully)\n", "I went to the bar after work. I ordered a pitcher of beer. I had the pool table all to myself. I thought about my life. What's the point? Nobody likes me. I have no friends. I have no family. I'm lucky to have a job. But every day I drink until I'm numb. Its the only pleasure I have. When I'm drunk, everything feels amazing. I dance at every song the jukebox plays. I sing along, slurring the words. Everyone at the bar is looking at me. Unfavorably. I would normally care. I would normally feel really self conscious about that. But not when I'm drunk. All those bad thoughts just melt away.\n\nI went to the bar again the next day. Before I could buy my first pitcher of beer, a man in a suit offered to buy it for me. There was something very familiar about the man, but I couldn't place it. He had a huge smile on his face. He stuck his hand out to shake my hand. \"You're not going to believe this,\" he said. \"I'm you, from the future!\" And then I realized what I had missed before. The reason he looked so familiar was that he looked like a more handsome version of myself. He was well groomed and well dressed. He was fit. He was happy.\n\n\"I'm here to help you,\" he said.", "\"Bullshit, just get out of my way man.\"\n\n\"No wait, I have something that may change your mind!\"\n\n\"Fine, just show me.\"\n\nHe pulled out a laptop, and fiddled with it for a few moments.\n\n\"Come on, just show me already.\"\n\n\"Wait a sec\" he fiddled a little bit more \"here you go!\", he pressed the laptop onto my hands.\n\nI took a look at the screen, in it I saw a very familiar logo, but with the number three beside it...\n\n\"Is this?\" I asked, voice trembling with awe.\n\n\"It is.\" He said, with a smug ´I told you so´ look on his face.\n\n\"Glorious...\" I whispered back, breath taken by the majestic sight.\n\nFor displayed on the screen was...\n\n.\n\n.\n\n.\n\nLeft 4 dead 3, tactical hatz edition." ]	10
	[WP] Coming back from the bathroom, you realize you've accidentally rubbed down with a squeeze of Hand Satanizer	[ "\"The Devil's hands are an idle plaything, Satan. Don't you know that?\" As Beelzebub tried to steal my mitts, I laughed at the incompetent guvnor. \n\n\"But how? You used the hand satanizer. You wiped your hands up nice and good with it. How are you not one of the damned by now?!\" The devil's words were purty. He had himself a purdy mouth.\n\n\"I'm a pagan. Neither Christ-ian, nor devilish. You want to step to me, chief, you better get stepping. Me and my boys are likely to throw you down the ol' apples an' pears.\" I taunted Old Scratch, but he looked merely confused.\n\n\"Apples and pears? Speak English, goddamn it!\" The Devil 'imself couldn't even understand a bit of the old Queen's. I had to laugh at the notion.\n\n\"I am, you right git.\" And I was. English? Who the fuck did he think he was talking to? \n\n\"Get where? What the fuck are you talking about?!\" At once, I understood. It was an American devil, in London.\n\n\"You'd better start running, chap, or me and me friends will start to running on you. And we don't stop until we're all satisfied. You kennit?\" I spoke, but the devil didn't kennit.\n\n\"Are.. Are you threatening me?!\" Yes, yes we were. And as we broke every bone in his body and used the rest for our pleasure, we had a hearty laugh.", "Damn, I think. The familiar tingling comes back, my phalanges turning into the crusty red fingers of the big man himself. This is the second time it's happened this week, the first time being Monday, just after lunch; a turkey sandwich, I think it was. I glance over my shoulders at the two smooth bottles sitting there, dual sinks on either side. The bottle on the right gives off somewhat of a smug air. Hand Satanizer. I reminded myself to grill the janitor later. Doubts flooded my head, like a sea of molasses through Boston. I caressed my chin, my hand now completely encased in the warmth of Tartarus. Then it raps me on the head. \"The janitor, that no-good patsy!\" I exclaim into the empty bathroom. I had only met the janitor twice; once was when I was in the hallway, fresh off the case of a dropper who didn't know who to drop. The other was just that day, not minutes before I walked into the bathroom. \n\nThe smug bird must've thought himself quite the smart sucker, dropping bottles of hand satanizer precariously close to the more hallowed hand sanitizer. Little did he know that he had just duped the hottest detective investigator this side of Queens. I pulled a bottle of hand de-satinizer from my trench and applied it vigorously to my godless extremities. As I wiped them down I realized that the clear liquid I had thought I was pouring into my hands was nothing but wet mud. I spied the bottle in my hand more closely. Hand de-sanitizer. I gasped and wrinkled my forehead. This man was no short order con, this man was a master criminal. I washed my hands; like I should have at first; and made my way through the bathroom door. This sick son of a bitch was going to the cooler, and I was the sleuth that was on his way to put him there." ]	2
Obvious inspiration for the prompt came from here: http://www.theguardian.com/world/2015/feb/02/iceland-temple-norse-gods-1000-years. The article is not a constraint, just favour text; feel free to interpret the building of the Norse temple in alternative ways.	[WP] Iceland builds the first temple to Norse gods since Viking age. The gods of today's major religions react.	[ "The gods dined quietly in the large hall. As per their normal they each ate their personalized supper in an uneasy silence. There had been days when the chamber had been anything but quiet, but as their numbers dwindled the deities had grown tired of fighting between themselves night after night, and so an unspoken rule had been formed. During dinner no one spoke.\n\t\nJesus wiped his mouth with a napkin and picked up his cup. A frown briefly crossed his face as he found it empty, before he refilled it with the sweetest wine. He drank deeply and surveyed the table. Most had finished or were polishing off the last of their meal. His gaze settled on Shakti, who he found deep in thought, her plate of food entirely untouched.\n\t\n“What has you so worried?” He asked her.\n\t\nShe raised her eyes to look across at him. “It seems some old friends are coming,” she whispered.\n\t\nGuan Yu laughed. “We have no old friends,” he declared. “Present company excluded,” he added with a grin after a deliberate delay before drinking from his own goblet.\n\t\n“That should tell you something, shouldn’t it?” Shakti responded.\n\t\nThe table looked at each other cautiously. Those that could attempted to divine to whom Shakti was referring, those that could not looked from face to face anxiously. It had been many years since any had entered their hall. Since the shapeless void had taken his seat farthest from the fire. Even Allah found his presence unnerving and his sight was unable to penetrate his veil.\n\t\nThey did not have long to wait before the banging on the great wooden doors began. No one moved to open the door. If they belonged the door would open to them. That was the way it had always been. A room full of deities and gods and the most powerful entity was the door. Occaisionally knocking would be heard but the door would deem them unworthy and so they would be sent away. Still the knocking continued now more rhythmic and intense like someone was drumming upon the wooden slats.\n\t\nThe occupants were beginning to think that the door had chosen to not allow the interlopers entrance when a great argument went up outside. No one could understand the words but several voices could be heard fighting amongst themselves. Finally with a great groan the door swung inward.\n\t\n“Happy now?” asked one of the entrants.\n\t\n“Indeed,” answered another.\n\t\nThe table rose at the same time.\n\t\n“What are you doing here?” demanded Yahweh.\n\t\n“No, you were gone,” shouted Buddha.\n\t\n“How can you be back?” cried Vishnu.\n\t\nOdin trod across the threshold of the hall toward the table at the far end with his arms outstretched. “It seems that the humans are beginning to see the error of their ways.”\n\t\n“This place seems smaller than I remember,” Thor declared. He threw back his head and drained his horn before casting it into a corner. “And quieter. Where are the servants?”\n\t\nBaldur pointed at Shakti’s plate of uneaten food. “Are you eating that?” he asked. He leaned across and took the plate before waiting for an answer. He dug in merrily. “Strange, but not bad,” he commented between mouthfuls.\n\t\nLei Gong leapt forward. “Put that down.”\n\t\nBaldur laughed. “Or what?” he asked as he shoved another fistful into his mouth.\n\t\nLei Gong sprang forward, grabbing Baldur around the waist, sending the pair tumbling across the stone floor in a twist of flying limbs. The plate soared away and smashed on the wall, the food discarded and forgotten. Lei Gong’s blows landed with no effect only to have him redouble his effort with each swing. Baldur’s attacks glanced off the Thunder God to an equally fruitless result. With each attack they became more ferocious.\n\t\n“Oh stop Baldur,” Odin shouted. “You can’t harm each other.”\n\t\nThey showed no sign of hearing Odin or if they did they did not care. The brawl continued with the fight going back and forth less as each gained an upper foot so much as they shifted their momentum in one direction or another.\n\t\nWith a wordless sigh and a wave of his hand, God separated the two deities until their backs touched opposing walls.\n\t\nThor was draining yet another horn of ale, though he could not remember where he had gotten it from. “I don’t remember you,” he said as he peered at the shapeless void in the corner. His face mere inches from the deity. “Why are you so blurry? I must be drunk. I can’t see your face. Wait!” He circled the being thinking perhaps in a drunken state he was staring at its back only to find each side was the same. “I don’t get it,” he admitted.\n\t\n“That’s the god of Agnosticism,” Jesus explained.\n\t\n“What’s his name?”\n\t\n“He doesn’t have one.”\n\t\n“What’s with the blurriness?”\n\t\n“He doesn’t have a shape.”\n\t\n“What does he eat?”\n\t\n“He doesn’t.”\n\t\n“I don’t get it.”\n\t\n“That’s the point,” Songzi Niangniang said. “It is the representation of those who believe that god is unknowable. So it has no shape, no name, no defining features, and it rarely if ever speaks.”\n\t\nThor frowned at the shadowy figure as it shifted and morphed before him, as he drank from another horn of unknown origin.\n\t\n“Thank you,” Loki whispered to her. “You’ll have my brother staring at it all night now.” Loki wandered away, giggling.\n\t\nOdin had made his way to the head of the table where he had taken the chair between Allah and Buddha. The chair had been left empty since the unspoken rule had been formed to facilitate the end of fighting. Many wondered if Odin taking the seat would start the fighting between the other seated deities again. Others had already silently begun preparing for the fight for the head seat.\n\t\nLei Gong and Baldur had taken seats across from each other and were glaring angrily across at each other. Neither was satisfied with the way that their fight had been ended. Loki with a wink at Baldur threw a peanut across and bounced it off the side of Lei Gong’s face. He immediately lunged across at Loki only to be restrained by his brothers. He screamed a string of threats at both Baldur and Loki.\n\t\nThe yelling spread down the table. Some were challenges directed at Odin. Some were threats against Baldur and Loki. Some were dredged up rivalries between other gods. Thor seemed to be yelling at everybody and nobody in particular, swinging around yet another mystery horn. Odin simply revelled in the spotlight while Loki revelled in the chaos.\n\t\nShakti sighed to herself, the only one left sitting aside from Odin. It was going to be a long night.\n", "\"Thank you for coming. I believe we all know why this meeting was called.\" \n\nYahweh stood at the head of a dark mahogany table in a richly appointed boardroom. Thousands of gods, both old and new sat in chairs down one side, the table stretching so far it seemed to curve down past the horizon.\n\n\"Point of Order!\" shouted Ganesha. \"Why in the pluperfect hell are we all seated on one side of this table? Surely it makes more sense to have chairs on both sides so you don't need to shout so damn loud.\" He flapped his ears in irritation as he spoke, fists punctuating every word.\n\nYahweh sighed. \"If we don't all sit on one side, how are we going to have a magnificent fresco of this meeting painted later? The last time we tried seating on both sides Baron Samedi and Opochtli complained your huge fucking ears were blocking their faces in the final painting.\"\n\nGanesha trumpeted, \"Well whose brilliant idea was it to have paintings made every time we have a little get together? None of our adherents will appreciate it anyway since they refuse to believe most gods exist. This will end up just like the Summer luau pic and be posted on DeviantArt next to Furry porn and My Little Pony fan drawings.\"\n\nPan grinned, \"I don't see a problem with that. You're just pissed they don't have more pictures of you frolicking with Benedict Cumberbatch.\" He languidly stretched his arms, hooves knocking together under the table. \"If all we are going to do is bitch about seating arrangements, I'm off. There is wine to drink and nymphs to diddle.\"\n\n\"NO!\" shouted Yahweh. \"This is extremely important! Ganesha, shut your fucking sprecht-hole and let me get on with this! The mortals have started worshiping Science and Reason and we no longer hold as much sway. Only the lunatic fringes take what we say seriously and I'll be damned if only mentally disturbed hobos listen to my rules about not mixing fabric material and chopping off foreskins. I don't know if you understand the gravity but they are WRAPPING SHRIMP IN BACON AND EATING IT.\"\n\nEdesia leaned over and nudged Pan. \"I knew that recipe would get on his tits. One of my better ideas.\"\n\nA pair of crows flew to the head of the table and perched on Yahweh's shoulder. They cocked their heads in unison, scrunched up their bodies and defecated. Yahweh sputtered in disbelief as they flew away, cawing with cackling glee. \"I SWEAR TO US, WODEN, I WILL SPIT THOSE BIRDS AND EAT THEM!\" He swore, spittle flying from his lips.\n\nWoden's head shot up suddenly, waking from his nap. \"They aren't my birds. My birds have larger breasts and nicer gams. Did you mean to say 'Odin?'\" \n\nBefore Yahweh could reply he was cut off by booming laughter and peals of thunder. An eight legged horse galloped up from far end of the table, it's rider high fiving the deities as he rode along. Horse and rider stopped right next to Yahweh, Slepnir stamping his hooves and rattling the table.\n\nOdin the All Father, the gallows crow, master of poetry (and 900 time winner of the High Heavens Freestyle Rap Battle) sat beaming down at Yahweh with a vicious smile. \"What do you expect? Thousands of years and he still hasn't bothered to learn everyone's name. We had a vote, chump. You've been deposed. For six millenia we've put up with your rule, sat by while you rebranded yourself over and over but enough is enough. A few of the folks at the end of the table have banded together and gotten the mortals in Iceland to build us a new temple. We'll be running the show now so you can piss off.\"\n\nYahweh abruptly stood up, his chair falling down behind him. \"You're 'running the show now?' Mithras' shit,\" he spat. \"It'll take more than revamping your headquarters and running an astroturf campaign to depose me. Between the Catholics, the Protestants, Judaism, Islam, Mormons and Jehovah's Witnesses I HAVE THE MORTALS ON LOCK. You don't stand a snowballs chance in Tartarus of hijacking my customer base. The biggest threat I face is Science and Reason. You aren't even a blip on the radar.\"\n\nOdin smiled, his good eye twinkling. \"We've told them to see our stories as parables and fables. Metaphors, Yahwhoop. None of that 'this really happened guis' tripe you've been pulling. We're also resurrecting Dio for the PR campaign.\"\n\nYahweh slumped, sitting hard where his chair had been and hitting the floor with a loud crack of thunder. \"I'm fucked,\" he muttered. \n\nOdin kept smiling. Far off in the distance, a forgotten god gibbered and guffawed with glee.\n\nEdit: Continuity is apparently a pain.", "\"What the fuck is this shit?\" He muttered, flinging some noodles toward the small blue dot on the horizon of the abyss.\n\n\n\"Oh, get over it. You're not even supposed to be here. The irony of your being eludes you.\" Kali floated toward the gargantuan mess of pasta and tomato as she insulted Him.\n\n\n\"One follower is all it takes, Kali. And besides, who the fuck would choose to worship you? Your mythology is like a retarded mash-up of Genghis Khan and a mosh pit.\" One of her arms began to unsheathe a sword from her side.\n\n\"Brunoise me, baby.\"\n\n\"Will you guys just cut it out?\" Jesus groaned, frowning as he ran his fingers over the hole in his left wrist. \"I died for them,\" he sighed, \"and this is how they repay me...\" His voice trailed as he gazed toward the distant blue speck, eyes glistening with unfiltered sorrow.\n\n\nWet noodles could be heard slapping and gliding against each other, slick with sauce. \"Boo-fucking-hoo,\" mocked the pasta. \"Why are you such a pussy? Odin did it first anyway. Dude deserves a temple if you ask me.\"\n\n\nAnd at that, a deep, hearty chuckle could be heard and felt. It radiated all around them, finally coming to a halt in the void, where a hulking behemoth of a humanoid began to materialize.\n\n\n\"That disgusting slop of garbage is correct! I hope you haven't forgotten me. I'm back and we've got some *work* to do!\" Odin roared.", "Jesus turned to his father with a very dire expression on his face. \"Contact Zeus and Hades immediately.\" Jesus commanded of a nearby angel. \"Add Para Brahman, Budda, and...and Satan to that list as well.\" Jesus added. Taking a last look at his fathers worried expression, Jesus rushed off to gather more information.\n\nHours later, a beam of pure white light descended toward earth from the heavens. Jesus had hoped to save his final resurrection for another time, however it seemed as though humanity needed him now more than ever. For if the Norse Gods were to be brought forth from their slumber, not even his father could stop them again. \n\n(Just dipping my toes in the WP waters for the first time.)" ]	4
	[WP] people living in insane asylums are actually sane. It's the general public, who have accepted modern society for face value that are actually 'delusional'	[ "Jessie knew that he would be sleeping in the padded call at Tall Leaves Reeducation Center again for the fourth night in a row. Two months ago, his plate-throwing wife who talked to squirrels had him taken away by doodling, screaming men in white jackets and dark blue nurse scrubs. \n\nThey said to him at his assessment that he was emotionally disturbed and had depression and bulimia but he knew better. So did the other patients. One of them was actually a doctor until his fellow doctors had her committed for supposedly having antisocial personality disorder. Another person, poor Gloria, was accused of being a pyromaniac because her crazy cousin nearly set fire to a house. \n\nHe didn't deserve to be here. None of them did and he knew it wasn't right at all. But what could he do? When he tried to protest, the guards laughed at him and said things like \"You're crazy.\" or \"You need more happy pills, Kilner.\" The so-called \"psychologists\" just shook their head and told Jessie that with the way he acted and his refusal to take medication which he suspected wasn't even actual medication, he would never make enough progress to be able to leave.\n\nJessie thought 'Why would they want me to? My schizophrenic ex-wife pays 5 grand a week for me to be here. If I'm here for the rest of my life, they'll make a truckload off me.'\n\nJessie sighed as he tried to look outside the small cell window with bars. It could be 11 am or 11 pm. The padded cells only had the door with a window and no other windows which made it impossible to see the sky or stars. He could try using Morse code to talk to the other patients but the last time, the sadistic guards tied his hands together with duct tape and left him lying down on the floor of his cell chained to his bed.\n\nHe tried to seem \"normal\" to them. He really did try but nothing seemed to work. They either thought that he was still \"insane\" or that he simply wasn't ready to go out into the world. That opinion bounced between those two depending on whether his ex-wife had paid for services or not. Well, she's still legally his wife until he gets out of there. If he gets out of there.\n\nJessie sighed again and lied down on the floor of the padded cell and closed his eyes. Maybe a good night's sleep will bring him some comfort and at least a little courage to face the hell that he would inevitably have to tomorrow morning. Group therapy. Or as the patients called it, \"Attempted brainwashing\".\n" ]	1
	[WP] Everyone on earth is a mentor of someone, and has a mentor. You are the mentor of one of the biggest criminals in history	[ " Alex was a curious young boy. He'd always loved lighting fireworks, even more so when a squirrel and a couple of rubber bands were involved. His parents and teachers grew troubled by this behavior, but Alex never understood. They said to be himself! He was trying! But, then again, he'd so often had trouble empathizing with others. \"Feelings\" seemed quite weak to young Alex, but nonetheless he grew to anticipate his trip to New York. His mother, a silly, fretting woman in his eyes, had told him it was for the better. His father merely sneered. Alex's father never understood Alex. Alex didn't care, he knew New York had plenty of fireworks and plenty more squirrels, after all. As he boarded the plane his excitement grew. Truly New York would suit him well. The plane took off and Alex stared blankly forward, orderlies sitting stiffly beside him. The plane ride grew dull and Alex drifted. He plotted and daydreamed of fireworks and squirrels and lighters and knives. Of oil drums and his mother's bed and screams and knives. Of his young, newly crippled sister and her silly skin grafts. Suddenly, a man wrapped in white linen stood and screamed. As did several compatriots. They rushed to the cabin, screaming \"Alex Akbar! Alex Akbar!\" As the skyline rushed passed the windows, Alex smiled. \"Alex Akbar,\" he thought. And then, fireworks.", "People always asked me if I had seen it coming. They were always busy assuring me that it was not my fault, that Fred would have chosen the wrong path anyway. Criminal genes, they called it, nobody could have helped him. But secretly they pitied me for my failure as a mentor and as a man. Poor fools, they would never understand. \n\nWhen I became Fred's mentor, in the early spring of 2007, I promised myself not to be like my own mentor. I wanted Fred to become successful in whatever profession or lifestyle he would choose. My own mentor had had different ideas for his protégé. I was to become a doctor, like he had always wanted to be, but for which he lacked the intelligence. He saw me as the younger, smarter version of him that could fulfil his dream for him. I never liked the idea of becoming a doctor, but since I had no idea what else I wanted to be, it was settled. I went to medical school and found a job at a hospital. I hated my life. Working hard every day for something I disliked made me miserable. I tried to search for other jobs, less boring professions, but my parents pressured me into staying at the hospital. Helped by my large hospital paycheck I could provide for them when they were old and needed to be taken care of, they argued. I obliged and continued my everyday life as before, but only a year later I started to find joy in it.\n\nOn my thirtieth birthday I received a letter from the government, informing me that I was to be a mentor to a teenager called Fred. At first I was annoyed. Just great, another thing I had to do against my will. But my attitude changed when I met Fred. He was an smart boy, eager to learn and reminded me of my younger self. Although I had promised myself not to act like my own mentor, I did. My goal was to give Fred the life I had never been able to lead. He was to be successful in whatever profession he liked and was good at. His path in life was to be led by his dreams and his talents, not by others' expectations. His talents turned out to be slightly out of the ordinary. He would come to me and brag about how he had simultaneously stolen two televisions and a microwave from a busy store without anyone noticing. Instead of reprimanding him, I complimented and encouraged him. This was clearly something he was good at and liked, so I helped him get better at it. I let him practice his burglary and pickpocket skills on me and my house, but soon that was not enough for him anymore. He wanted the bigger crime, the more difficult and more rewarding jobs. He found partners and together they executed the witty plans he had created for robbing banks and casinos. In the beginning, I was scared the police would catch him, put him behind bars where he would spend the rest of his years wasting his talents, but they never did. His accomplices got caught, but Fred always got away. At times he would get harmed in the police chase, but never more than I could patch up. At these moments, I finally enjoyed being a doctor. It made me able to help him stay successful, and that was all I wanted. By now the police knew about him and the papers were filled with his name. I had never been so proud. \n\nThe last time I met him, about a year ago, he seemed unusually nervous. He would not say anything about it, but it was clearly about a new plan. “Just watch the news.” he said and left before I could ask any more questions. Since that moment, I watched TV non-stop until the next evening breaking news was announced. I hardly saw the news through the tears in my eyes. Fred had become the successful man I always wanted him to be. And though I might never see him again, I am finally happy and as proud as I can be. My protégé robbed the Queen!" ]	2
For those not in the US, 911 is the phone number to dial for emergency services.	[WP] 119 is established as a 911 for 1st world problems	[ "The following is a transcript from a 199 call. The names of both the operator and caller have been redacted to preserve their privacy.\n\n\n18:45 1/2/15\nIncoming call.\n\nOperator: 199, location of emergency\n\nCaller: (frantic, out of breath) Uhm yes..me and my friend....we need help\n\nOperator: Alright, I need you to stay calm. Where are you?\n\nCaller: We're at redacted we need help please\n\nOperator: Ok, I've got your location here. What's the nature of your emergency.\n\nCaller: (still breathless) Netflix. Netflix is down. We were watching the Office and...and...we were watching the Office and it just...it just stopped. Now we can't get it to play.\n\nOperator: I understand. Who am I talking to?\n\nCaller: Redacted\n\nOperator: Alright, redacted. We're going to help you but I need some information from you, can you help me with that?\n\nCaller: I...I think so.\n\nOperator: Great, ok redacted. I've got a specialist on standby and their going to help you. What season of the Office were you in?\n\nCaller: Six\n\nOperator: Great, great. And what episode?\n\nCaller: Uhm, ten I think. \n\nOperator: Alright....and....I've dispatched a team of specialists to your location. They're bringing season six and seven of the office on a USB drive. That should hold you over until Netflix is back up.\n\nCaller: (excited) Oh my god! Thank you so much! \n\nEnd of call\n", "119 the number for all your convenience needs\n\nThe advert flashed on the radio. Tunes of the inner city interrupted by the announcement, the area here was filled with rich people willing to pay the 50 per second rate just to talk to someone then whatever they felt like charging if they actually needed assistance. Assistance usually consists of emergency bookings at the nearest salon or paying out some poor person to give up there appointment at the dentist.\n\nPeople didn't always need to call 119 but the poor where never able to do so. The adverts in the inner city where only aimed at the rich though any poor commuter just had to ignore them, thats what Lauren didn't understand though only poor people took the subway so why would they waste time advertising 119 here? Mid-thougt she was distracted with a man who sat opposite her, a bum by all definitions the rugged clothing and crappy phone showed that but there he was dialing 119... \"Yeah umm I need a car\", \"No, I don't. I don't have a house...\" *Beep, beep, beep the something had clearly disconnected the line. Laura had never seen anyone call 119 before let alone they get hung up on because of it. \n\nCity flying by both she and the strange man got off at the same stop, she hurried her way to work hardly thinking anything of it but stopped for a beat when she saw enforcement officers approaching. Her first thought was to plead innocence she wasn't doing anything wrong but most of the time they didn't care if you didn't have money to pay them away or the high class job to earn there respect they would find you guilty of something. \n\nShe worried for nothing though as the officers walked straight past her and approached the homeless man, \"Sir, I'm charging you with mis-use of emergency services. You do not have to say anything...\"\nThe rest of the caution was cut off as the homeless man scuffled with the police officers who quickly subdued him. \n\nShe stopped wondering why they played the 119 ad's on the subway, \"Any fucking excuse to charge us for summit\" she muttered scurrying to work. ", "\"119, what is your emergency\"\n\n\"I switched my TV and now I can't watch Real Houswives\"\n\n\"Ma'am, when you say you switched your TV, do you mean you changed channels inadvertently or do you mean you've changed the input to something different?\"\n\n\"Well my TV screen is now just black! HELP ME OH GOD!!!!\"\n\n\"Ma'am calm down, take a breath, do you know the make and model of the TV?\n\n\"NO!!! AHHH! My husband just installed this tv that's like 200 inches or something and the REMOTE IS DIFFERENT!!!\"\n\n\"Ma'am I need you to calm down - can you describe the remote to me, I will walk you through this\"\n\n\"AHHHHHH!!!!! THIS IS CRAZY!!!!!!\"\n\n\"Ma'am, just take a breath, we'll work through this\"\n\n\"OH MY GOD I CAN'T BREATHE!\"\n\n\"Ok Ma'am I am going to send a technician to your house, can you confirm your address\"\n\n\"9316 Belle Vista Lane - in Palo Alto - PLEASE HURRY!!!\"\n\n\"Ma'am, the technician is on his way, fortunately he is just around the corner. He may seem really young, but he's a tech whiz. He will take good care of you. His name is Mark Zuckerberg. He is fairly new at this, so I need you to calm down or you may make him nervous and he may not be able to correct your issue\"\n\n\"OH MY GOD THANK YOU!!!!\"\n\nMa'am I will stay on the line until he gets the situation resolved\"\n\n\"OK - wait, he's here now\"\n\n\"Good Ma'am, just let him in, he'll take it from here\"\n\n\"HE JUST GOT THE REMOTE - OH HEAVENS HE FIXED IT!!!!\"\n\n\"Great Ma'am - is everything satisfactory now?\"\n\n\"Well, I do have an issue with my Bidet - could he fix that too?\"", "The USA established 119 as the number for all 1st world problems and it worked amazingly. People were able to report their problems with ease with no fear of being judged because they were \"Rich fuckers\". Other countries decided to do the same. France, Germany, Denmark. All worked wonders. But when the UK did it... that's when the problems began. The reverse of 999 is still 999. The police began getting first world problems and first world problem answerers got crimes. Within months the country fell into anarchy, people were getting arrested because their free coffee coupons only counted towards the expensive Starbucks coffees while others got nothing for murder. Eventually the government collapsed and the countries auctioned off. France now owns England, something they've been after ever since William the Bastard declared himself independent. Norway got Scotland, they are now the only country profiting from the North Sea Oil. They are now so rich they'll soon be able to buy the world. Northern Ireland got bought by Wales to the dismay of the Irish. Then Ireland got bought by the Isle of Man. Nobody knows where they got the money from. And Wales got bought by China, their flag is now a red chinese dragon.", "First day on the job, I saved a kid's life.\n\nFifteen and a half year old male, multiple issues - first there was the lakeside bike path that ran from a couple blocks from his home to a couple blocks from the highschool, and meant he had no justification to have his own car. Then there was the matter of the endless emailing of schoolwork from his household desktop PC or personal Android phone to his school-issued iPad. And the straw that broke the camel's back, the new leather jacket that he couldn't wear to school unless he wore it all day long since it was too nice to stuff into a locker or leave unattended for even a minute. I suggested hanging it across the extra straps on the bottom of his backpack, directed him to a source of USB<->Lightning connectors, and sent him some links to sites where he could learn how to talk a good game of being carless-by-choice.\n\nReally, talking points are a lot of what we do. Our most common call is about Starbucks issues, and knowing where all the good indie coffeehouses are is a big part of the job, but some people need a nudge about how to brag on not drinking big-chain coffee anymore...", "\"Ma'am, please stop crying. It's going to be okay.\"\n\nThe woman was hysterical. Ellie could easily imagine the woman on the other side of the line with her primped hair, designer cloths, and gobs of mascara smearing across her face. Taking so many calls you would think that there would be some variance in the people she talked to, but she imagined them all to be the same ten people calling over and over again. Even their voices sounded the same. They melded into a few different cadences, separated only by regional accents or by how they cried. Their problems were meaningless to Ellie, but they were willing to pay for the support. \n\n\"I'm sorry it's hard to type with your new nails,\" Ellie was half screaming over the woman's sobs. \"I'm sure he understands that the text you sent him was a mishap, just call him and explain...\" The woman interrupted her and offered the same argument that Ellie always heard. There really was no variance in these people, but they all thought they were special and that they mattered more than others.\n\nIt took several minutes to finally convince the crying woman that everything would be okay if she just called her boyfriend instead of staying on the phone with Ellie. Eventually, hiccuping, she agreed and disconnected. Ellie quickly put herself on break and took a moment to stretch her legs and head to the bathroom. She hated sitting in the cubicle all day, but it was an easy job. So many people called over nothing, nothing! These people wouldn't know a real problem if it hit them in the face. It made Ellie feel more superior, in a way, because she did have real things to worry about like paying rent and getting all of her homework done. Didn't these people have something better to do?\n\nThe seconds on her break counted down and she answered another phone call.\n\n\"Thank you for calling 119, what's your emergency?\"\n\n\"Hi...I uh, I think I'm going to kill myself.\" The voice on the end of the line had the same strain Ellie was used to and it took her a second to recognize that this wasn't her usual problem.\n\n\"You...uh...what?\" She replied dumbly, unable to process what the man had said.\n\n\"Yeah, I don't see a point,\" his voice picked up a bit as he himself got more comfortable with the idea. \"I just don't see a point in living anymore. I didn't really know who to call and, well, here I am.\"\n\nEllie began to panic. This man was going to kill himself. She wasn't trained to handle something like this. Their prompts had never covered anything so serious. The line was supposed to only handle the problems of the rich and spoiled. \n\n\"Are you still there?\" He asked, a slight pleading in his voice.\n\nShe didn't know what to do. Thinking fast, she decided to do the only thing she could.\n\n\"Yes, I'm here. Listen, I know that...\" click\n\nShe held her breath and listened to see if the call had really disconnected, her finger still pressing the disconnect key. This trick had helped her get out of bad calls in the past. If they checked the recording they would see that she had been talking when the call disconnected and she surely would not have done that. It wouldn't make sense. They'd pass over it and Ellie would never get in trouble. No one had ever trained her to handle someone with a real problem, so it was their fault anyways. Besides, surely he'd call back and get someone else that could help him. She re-assured herself with these thoughts and answered a call for another crying woman who had crashed her new car, returning her day to an easy normalcy. Ellie promptly forgot the man she had spoken to, the man who never did call back.", "\"119, what is your emergency?\"\n\n\"Help! Please! I was busy watching World's Explodiest Tanks and I forgot I had a pizza in the oven! IT'S BURNT TO A CRISP NOW!\"\n\n\"Dear sweet God in heaven! What's your address and style of pizza!?\"\n\n\"275 Eastwickham Rd, and it was a supreme Digiorno. Please, I thought I'd be eating pizza by now! I'm SO HUNGRY!\"\n\n\"Try eating some other snacks, but not too many, you'll fill up! We've already dispatched an oven truck to the store nearby to buy and cook the pizza while speeding to your house. Do you need me to stay on the line?\"\n\nDialogue muffled by what is clearly a mouth full of chips. \"Yes, thank you.\"", "\"119, what is your emergency?\"\n\n\"OMG I just can't even.\"\n\n\"Ma'am, try to remain calm-\"\n\n\"You don't understand, I literally, can't even.\"\n\n\"This sounds bad, do I need to send an officer to your location?\"\n\n\"I don't know. I. I don't know what to do.\"\n\n\"Ma'am, you're going to have to tell me what happened so I can get an accurate report to the responding officer.\"\n\n\"Okay... haaa... I was taking my new iPhone out of my purse-\"\n\n\"Chanel?\"\n\n\"No, Marc-Jacobs - Forever series 8 in coral red.\"\n\n\"Nice!\"\n\n\"Thanks. Anyway, so my iPhone fell out of my purse, and cracked my iPad.\"\n\n\"Oh dear. I'll send an officer to bring you a new iPad right away. What color case would you like?\"\n\n\"Seagreen with a kickstand, but that's not the only problem. You see, I have family over so there are four or five cars in our garage right now. But I can't figure out which set of remote keyless BMW keys go to which car.\"\n\n\"Oh dear, you would have to try them one by one. That sounds awful.\"\n\n\"But my estate is so big that I have to walk sooooo far just to try. And since they unlock based on your proximity, I could be getting interference from one of the other sets of keys.\"\n\n\"Honey don't panic. We can just send you a new 2015 Lexus RC F for the day while we sort this out.\"\n\n\"I'd prefer the LS hybrid\"\n\n\"Okay no problem. I'll send an officer right away.\"\n\n\"Don't you need my address?\"\n\n\"It's the Pennington estate on the hill right?\"\n\n\"Yes that's us. Oh and one more thing. Can you bring me a new phone charger. I have one for my bedroom, one in the living room, one in the dining room, and one in the master bathroom. But like, what am I supposed to do when I'm watching a movie in my home theatre and want to rant on Tumblr?\"\n\n\"We'll send two.\"", "\"119 what is your minor inconvenience?\"\n\n\"Yes, my house is too big and I can't get Wifi when sitting on the upstairs john. I need some help!\"\n\n\"Not to worry, your neighbor's Wifi password is hotstud69. Piggy back it and you can us it.\"\n\n************************************************\n\nThe young man smiled as he talked to the camera. He brushed a lock of red curls out of his eye sight. \"I considered being a doctor, or a police officer and all those usual cliches. But then I realized there were so many people with everyday problems, yet no one was helping them. That was I invented 119. To help solve all problems great and small.\"\n\n***************************************************\n\n\"119 what is your minor inconvenience?\"\n\n\"Yes I need to ask my gardener to plant the tulips on the north side of the guest house, but I've forgotten his name!\"\n\n\"No worries, our records show that his name is Jesus Lopez. His wife also just had a child, a boy name Gomez. Be sure to congratulate him on it.\"\n\n\"Ohh thank you, you are a life savor!\"\n\n**************************************************\n\nThe entrepreneur man continued to talk to the newscast. He flashed his perfectly straight teeth. Obviously whitened. \"It was hard getting funding at first, especially since there are so many people with so many problems. But 119 has become a rousing success. We're expanding into Houston, LA, and even Vancouver, Canada by the years end.\"\n\n**************************************************\n\n\"119 what is your minor inconvenience?\"\n\n\"Yes I want this darling little throw pillow from Amazon, but it's 24.99! I don't need anything else and I don't want to buy something extra just to qualify for the free shipping!\"\n\n\"That's not a problem. Go to the hardware page and look for elbow bends, one inch plastic. They sell for a dime.\"\n\n\"Ohh that'll be perfect! Thank you honey!\"\n\n**************************************************\n\n\"We're doing so much good in the world. And it's quite challenging too. You need to be prepared for people who fill up on bread at Olive Garden before they get their meal. Where to find gluten free organic cookies at the airport. How to get the breakfast menu at 2 o'clock when you sleep in. There's just such a variety. But our staffed is full trained.\"\n\n**************************************************\n\n\n\"119 what is your minor inconvenience?\"\n\n\"I'm at Starbuck and my lazy ass barista didn't bother to make a funny thingie on the foam! I mean, it's just blank!\"\n\n\"We're very sorry to hear that sir. We've sent the nearest recently graduated art student to your location. Please feel free to maky any request for designs on your lattes.\"\n\n\"Thanks. Bout time our money's being used for something useful!\"\n\n****************************************************\n\n\"That went rather well.\" The man adjusted his tie as he walked down the stairs from the television studio. A much needed boost in getting 119's name out there. Not to mention it would so help the next fiscal quarter. He pulled the keys out of his pocket and looked around the parking lot in a slow arc. After a moment he sighed, picking up his smart phone and dialing. \"Yes, 119?.... yes, I'm at the TV studio and I've forgotten which car I drove.\"", "\"119, what's your emergency?\"\n\n\"THE LINE AT STARBUCKS IS TOO LONG! I'M NEVER GOING TO MAKE IT TO WORK ON TIME! HELP ME!\"\n\n\"Ma'am, it's ok, let's just stay calm. Can you give me your current location?\"\n\n\"I'm at Dowlen and Scott street. There's like 20 people in line! What do I do???\"\n\n\"Ma'am, Google Maps is showing there is another Starbucks two blocks south of your location. I would suggest you try there.\"\n\n\"Thank you! Thank you so much!!\"\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\"119, what's your emergency?\"\n\n\"SOMEONE PARKED IN MY PARKING SPACE IN FRONT OF MY APARTMENT! IT SAYS 'RESERVED!' HELP!\"\n\n\"Ma'am, everything's going to be alright. Are there other parking spots nearby?\"\n\n\"Yeah, but they're, like, super* far away!\"\n\n\"Ma'am, I'm going to have a tow truck sent to your location. For now I'm going to have to ask you to park in another spot until help arrives.\"\n\n\"Ok, ok. Thank you so much!\"\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\"119, what's your emergency?\"\n\n\"I ORDERED MY QUARTER POUNDER WITHOUT PICKLES, BUT THEY PUT PICKLES ON IT ANYWAY! WHY DO BAD THINGS HAPPEN TO GOOD PEOPLE?!?\"\n\n\"Sir, it's going to be ok, let's just try to be calm. Have you tried asking them to remove the pickles?\"\n\n\"Well, no, I don't want to ask them. It's too embarrassing!\"\n\n\"Have you tried removing the pickles yourself?\"\n\n\"... Um, I guess I could do that. But they shouldn't have put them on in the first place!\"\n\n\"Don't worry sir, we'll contact store management.\"\n\n\"Thank you!\"\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\"119, what's your emergency?\"\n\n\"I CAN'T FIND MY CAR KEYS!\"\n\n\"Sir, let's just try to remain calm. Where did you last see your car keys?\"\n\n\"They were in my pocket when I got home! Where could they have gone!\"\n\n\"Have you checked the couch cushions?\"\n\n\"...\"\n\n\"Sir?\"\n\n\"... Oh. There they are. Thanks.\"\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\"119, what's your emergency?\"\n\n\"GIRL SCOUTS CAME BY MY HOUSE TODAY SELLING COOKIES BUT THEY WERE ALL OUT OF THIN MINTS!!! WHY DOES GOD HATE ME???\"\n\n\"Ma'am, it's alright, I'm here to help. Do you know what troop resides in your area?\"\n\n\"I DON'T KNOW! I'M IN FARMINGDALE AND I JUST WANT THIN MINTS! WHY GOD? WHY?\"\n\n\"Ma'am, stay with me now. I'm going to contact the local troop leader and have them come by your house as soon as the next shipment arrives.\"\n\n\"BUT THAT COULD TAKE FOREVER! I DON'T KNOW IF I CAN WAIT THAT LONG!\"\n\n\"Ma'am, are you aware you can order girl scout cookies online?\"\n\nclick\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\"119, what's your emergency?\"\n\n\"MY GARDENER DOESN'T SPEAK ENGLISH AND I DON'T KNOW HOW TO TELL HIM THAT I WANT MY FENCE PAINTED! WHY DOESN'T EVERYONE JUST SPEAK ENGLISH?\"\n\n\"Sir, it's going to be alright. Have you tried just showing him the fence?\"\n\n\"I TRIED THAT BUT I DON'T KNOW IF HE UNDERSTOOD AND I TRIED SPEAKING LOUDER BUT HE STILL JUST LOOKS CONFUSED!\"\n\n\"He's Mexican, sir, not deaf. Have you tried using Google translate?\"\n\n\"... what's that?\"\n\n\"I'm sending an interpreter to your location. Hang tight, sir.\"\n\n" ]	10
	[WP] Magic uses a wizard's Soul as fuel. A battle is all but lost, and an elderly wizard will fight to his last.	[ "The raw, visceral current of magic raced through my veins, through darkened bloody flesh, squirming out of my outstretched arms in roiling waves of death.\n\nI walked upon ashes and smoldering coals, their fires wrapping me in a warming caress as I backed away from the surrounding swarms of men. Their armor glinted and shone dully in the washing bursts of light scything through their ranks.\n\nThrough air and flame, through lightning and ice I saw the last door to the sanctum burst open in a spray of splintered wood.\n\n____________\n\n[2 Hours Ago]\n\n\"Raise you hands like so.\" I said, the gentle torchlight lighting the motions of my arms and hands, their shadows faint across the brightly lit academy wall.\n\n\"Your body must let its power flow through you like a river flowing through a creek.\" I said, my gentle voice carrying decades of experience through them.\n\nMy students assumed similar poses and gathered enough soulfire to let their hands glow gently, proving mastery.\n\nI meandered through them, and corrected the few that were having difficulty. \n\n\"Always remember to never drain yourself too much.\" I said with a meaningful look at a student who had poured enough soulfire through his hands to make them brighter than torches, no doubt in a juvenile attempt to show off. Upon hearing my words he flushed and his lumens charm faded to a a mere glow as he averted his eyes.\n\n\"Mal'Ken, how do you not drain your well again? Will you tell the class?\"\n\nHe flushed deeper, and with the eyes of all pupils upon him he quickly recovered enough to say, \"The human soul renews itself over time, greatly influenced by any number of positive or negative variab-\"\n\n\"Yes, yes. We all know magical theory, what do you not do when casting spells like an overgrown firefly?\" I said with another pointed look towards his unconsciously brightening hands.\n\nHe stifled a curse as a few amused chuckles echoed out from the surrounding students.\n\n\"Uhhhh... Just don't draw too much, too fast?\" He sputtered out, his plaintive voice causing me to smile in spite of myself.\n\n\"Correct, Mal\" I said, \"You can relax, I'm done tormenting you now.\" I smiled and walked back to the front of the room.\n\n\"Now I will be demonstrating the hand positions to use if you have to sprint while channe-\"\n\nBOOM\n\nA noise, or rather a wave of pressure and vibration passes through the training room, the painted stone walls forming hairline fractures and spitting stone shards as it moves through. \n\nI heard distant two types of distant screams, the first were those of mortal agony, of terror and horror of seeing death coming for them; but even more disturbing were the cries that were shot through with the throaty roar of bloodlust. We were under attack.\n\n______________\n\n[Present]\n\nMy life was fading into death, poured over the hordes of soldiers that had given me and mine the same. My students... butchered, violated; killed by the ignorant who believe themselves pure for killing \"witches\". I never had thought they would go this far, never believed they would act on their words... Another old man's folly.\n\nTears stung my eyes with their cathartic wetness, and boiled away in another instant as I sent a blast of blue-white fire so hot the stone walls began to melt through the sanctum entrance. The very air burned. Men fell as they were charred where they stood, their armor sloughing off in the inferno devouring all before it with a hunger to rival my rage, a fire no less searing blazing in my chest as I poured my hate, my fear, my sadness, my love into the last tribute, a final attempt at retribution for everyone I had every loved, now dead beyond that very doorway.\n\nI tried. I thought through a haze of weakness rushing through me, sweeping my unspoken spells from my mind, and leaving me shuddering on the ground. I distantly heard the rattle of men's armor as they ran through the glowing entrance to the sanctum, now cooling to an evil grey. I heard them surround me and I tried to force my spasming muscles to move, to get up, to fight, to do something.\n\nI felt my world turn into a red haze as a soldier kicked me viciously in the side. I felt something tear in me. He kicked again and I curled instinctively, the taste of blood leaking into my mouth. I looked up, tears of pain and anguish on my bloody cheeks.\n\nHe spat on my face and kicked me again, hard enough for me to vomit blood.\n\n\"Your kind disgust me\" he growls, \"you an' yours got what they deserved for hurtin' innocent folk with your black magic.\"\n\nI tried to crawl away, one wrinkled hand grasping faintly as the blackened ground, the other clutching my swelling side, the pain almost a numbing sensation now.\n\nWith a casual kick he rolls me onto my back, stepping closer.\n\n\"Rot in hell witch.\" He snarls, sword slashing through smoke and scorched air. Suddenly there's no pain, only cold. I look up at the once glorious ceiling of stained glass, magically glowing even through the layers of soot upon it. But even as I watch the glow fades, and the cold darkness spreads through me like an old, welcome friend.\n\n", "You don't die physically when you expend your soul. You just lose yourself, and all the memories that make it up. \n\nWe never understood the soul with our science, never understood it until the shift. We called it the paradigm shift, the last joke of the intellectuals I think. It wasn't just a new world, it was a new humanity. We tore a hole in the fabric of the world, and found a new one.\n\nMemories and feelings. That's what makes up our souls. Every time you love, every time you lose, every time you're hurt or brought to joy. These are what make up your soul. And they make for fantastic currency. \n\nThe power to make and break the world, at the cost of your memories. That right there, that was Mutually Assured Destruction. A weapon that took your soul. Nuclear weapons might take your land from you, might kill millions, but you would still be there. Not so now. A weapon to end the world that ended everything you ever knew with it. \n\nAnd here I was. Nothing left. The screamers had broken the minds of my friends, my family, my grandchildren. The devourers had ripped apart those that held their sanity together. And I stood alone still against an army. \n\nOn Flanders Field, my country died beneath the flowers. \n\nOn Flanders Field, my friend's blood fed the flowers. \n\nWhen everything you knew and loved is taken from you, does it matter if you can remember it? ", "\"Unlike mankind, the laws of magic are impartial. They make no exceptions.\" Shar repeated the words his master had once told him. The footsteps echoed in the dark, each thump matching the beat of Shar's heart. \n\n\"Magic can only be utilized by those with the will! The strength of your magic is determined by your will, the capacity is determined by your soul. Use too much at a time and it will drive you mad...\" The teachings of his master were returning one last time.\n\n\"The first law!\" Shar yelled, \"Magic comes from within!\" The royal army was fast approaching from the South, ready to take Shar's head for high treason. They came in droves, not sparing any expense to take him down. His robe billowed in the wind as he stared down the mountain side at the approaching enemy. Shar began his rhythmic breathing. Letting all of the magic within his soul reach every inch of his body. The flow of magic within was becoming weaker. It would be his last battle. \n\n\"Your breathing is imperative! Without it, your magic will be shallow. You forget to breathe, you forget to live...\" The second teaching rang in Shar's head.\n\n\"The second law!\" Taking a deep breath, Shar released a magical burst from his mouth. \"Magic moves as one's own body moves!\" A sound burst of magic ran its way down the mountainside enveloping the army in a shockwave. The earth began to shake down below. The army split to either side of the crack in the earth. His grave had been dug.\n\n\"The most important lesson I can teach you Shar. Are you listening Shar? The first two lessons were about your inner magical control, but you must be able to expel your magic properly. You cannot release your magic at a constant rate. If you do, it will have no effect on its way out. You MUST release magic in bursts!\" The final lesson.\n\n\"The third and final law!\" Shar paused gathering the last bit of his strength toward the exterior of his body. Feeling all of the magic bursting at his fingertips his voice bellowed in a rage of wisdom. \"No matter how much you try to contain it... Magic will push through all barriers!\" The entire mountain shook behind Shar. A violent eruption came from behind him. Clouds formed in the sky above the split army. Shar let loose the energy he had been holding back and released it all at once. Pouring all his soul into the burst made Shar's body feel lighter. As more magic ran down the mountainside it began to form into a wave of all four elements. The face of the mountain burst into flames. Jagged rocks fell off the edge toward the bottom. Geysers shot out of the side. All of this was driven by the original wind that had now turned into a gale. The raging elemental storm raced its way toward the army. Many began to retreat. The army had lost its morale by the sheer force of Shar's will. The storm continued its path wrecking havoc along the way. Approaching the bottom it had gained even more energy now exploding its way down. The violent burst began creating fissures along the mountain. Now feet from the remaining army it continued its path kicking up a giant dust cloud hiding the army from sight.\n\nWhen the cloud had dissipated the army was revealed to still be standing undamaged. Shar looked to the sky with a smile on his face. His body was fading, soon the only thing that would remain would be his robe. Starting from his feet and rising up, his body was crumbling into dust. With his final breath he said, \"Shar's law: Magic must not be used to cause harm.\"", "The first thing an instructor teaches his or her apprentice is power control. Fitting to look back to the beginning, his beginning, at what he knew to be his last moments.\n\n\"We have three sources. The world around you should be your first. Feel the ebb and flow of the ley lines of the earth and draw the energy that nature freely gives as it breathes life. Your natural reserves, the strength in your muscles, your bones, should be your second. It is always best to use a compound of fuel. Nature's energies blend well with our own. It can be taxing, but a good lesson learned on your limits,\" Tai'Mon's instructor hadn't looked a day over 45 during his first lesson, but he could see her true age, even in his days as an initiate. The aura she cast, compressed around her, radiated with wisdom and depth, but in between he could see her weariness. To bear such a burden of power would weigh on anyone.\n\nEven now he heard her instructions, the lessons she had engraved into his very mind bones with care and love, whispering into his ear as if she stood behind him. Tai'Mon staggered back as his enemy launched another wave of energy into his attack, the roiling storm of light and fire emitting from his staff twisting the air into a shadowy red as the very earth trembled.\n\n\"You've grown weak old man!\" Tai'Mon's ears heard the taunt, but his mind did not. The muscles in his jaw flexed as he fought the fatigue creeping through his body.\n\n\"Posture Tai'Mon! Your body is not the source of power, it is the conduit. You must guide its flow! Your veins are like rivers. Open the channels to let the energies reach their destinations!\" she had shouted at him during his secondary examinations.\n\nTai'Mon eased his left leg back, rotating his staff so the bladed end was pointed towards the earth. He lowered his weight, rocking his upper torso back and forth as if swayed by the ocean waves. The aura of his might changed color from faded blues and greens to a seething gold and white cyclone. His eyes followed the lighted roar of his will striking out against his enemy's. Where the opposing streams met, he could see phantoms clashing. Great armored knights, their swords and shields raised to meet gnashing teeth and shadowed spectres.\n\n\"Do not forget the importance of will. Will gives your power form. A strong will can make your spells hard, sharp enough to cut through even the strongest of defenses. A weak will leaves you brittle, soft like a ship breaking against the storm.\"\n\nTeeth gritted against the sound that screamed into the air, Tai'Mon took stock of his surroundings. The trees had withered to gray, their once proud heads barren of lush greens. The flowers, wilted and robbed of the color, began to turn to dust to be carried into the air by the ravenous winds. Deep groves began to form in the earth as the soil cracked beneath Tai'Mon's feet.\n\n\"Your soul is your last resort. It is said that the greatest among us walk a path of equal parts wonder and ruin. There may come a day when the earth will not feed you, when the strength of your body fails you. On this day, your soul must be enough. Strength of soul, Tai'Mon, can only be gained through strength in life. Do not forget to live. Do not forget to love. Let power not be your quest, for if you should face an enemy that you cannot overcome, the life you lived will fail you and your soul will refuse to give you strength,\" she had said, smiling sadly as she parted from him.\n\n\"This body has,\" Tai'Mon shouted back. He heard the words now, his face locked in grim expectation. He stood against the hateful pressure that railed against him and closed his eyes. From deep within he felt a stirring, warm and afraid, but resonating with strength. He smiled. He had filled the stores of his soul well.\n\n\"Old fool. You think your soul is enough? I sustain by my strength alone and the earth will no longer help you. You have failed. Just as you failed your teacher. Just as you failed your family. Just as you failed me.\"\n\n\"Yes. I have indeed failed. So the price of my soul must suffice for these failures. For both of us, I hope it will be payment enough,\" Tai'Mon began to push.\n\nLaughter filled his heart as his staff groaned from the sudden flush of power. He could feel it protest, reluctant to take from its master a power it could not return, but it accepted it soon as it understood. There would be no return from this.\n\nThe memories began to rise from the vault he had created in his soul. The giggles of children in a happy home, running around the morning table. Tai'Mon saw but a glimpse of his wife, a second of a smile as she turned from the kitchen sink to embrace him. He reached out to touch the phantom of her memory, but it was gone but a blink later, pulled into his spell to give it force.\n\nAnother vision surged - his hands pressed and pulled against her body, his lips sought hers as her face turned skyward and her back arced. He felt her quiver as he moved against her, his breaths matching hers in melody that completed them both. He closed his eyes as the image was ripped from him.\n\nEach stolen memory sent surges of pain to the deepest corner of himself and with it, his staff blossomed with newly found ferocity.\n\nThen Tai'Mon saw his happiest moment - a young boy's eyes, wide in wonder, reaching out to touch Tai'Mon's cloak. The young boy looked up. What a mountain Tai'Mon must have looked to him. Tai'Mon saw his younger self's lips move to speak, lighting up the young boy's face with a smile. Tears poured from Tai'Mon's eyes as the memory lingered.\n\n\"Will you teach me about the world? Will you show me adventure?\" the young boy had said.\n\n\"Yes, if you will let me.\"\n\nAnd then an eruption. The very air shrieked as the final vestiges of Tai'Mon's soul poured into his staff. He surrendered his last breaths, his body no longer weighed down as his feet rose from the earth.\n\n\"No!\" Tai'Mon heard his enemy cry out in fear.\n\n\"I am sorry,\" Tai'Mon whispered. As the light of his life exploded into the air in a thundering resound to the heavens, Tai'Mon smiled at last, and was free." ]	4
	[WP] Wilson hands it off to Lynch...	[ "1 yard line, two receivers on the right side: Baldwin and Lockette played man coverage with Revis and Butler. Seattle is running the clock down with Lynch in the backfield. The middle of the field is stacked with New England defensive backs, showing blitz. 30 seconds left in the quarter... Wilson snaps the ball, hands it off to Lynch, Chandler Jones the first man to contact Lynch, Jamie Collins comes rushing in to seal the tackle! What a save! 3rd down. Oh boy will Seattle call their timeout? No, they will go no huddle mode, Lynch still in the backfield. three receivers: Kearse, Baldwin, and Lockette. 17 seconds left, Wilson snaps the ball, looks to Baldwin, throws a fade with Revis on coverage! The throw is... TIPPED UP IN THE AIR AND...\n.\n.\n.\n1st time posting to /r/WP, didn't choose to write the best I could've because commentators always are cut off and need to get to the point. thanks for reading.", "Marshawn Lynch runs it up the middle on the left side. Vince Wilfork dives through his block and puts a helmet on the football 1 yard behind the line of scrimmage. Ball pops out! Recovered by...the Patriots! Patriots win!\n\nEvery analyst, player, coach, fan starts saying \"Why did they run!? Every one knew they were going to run the ball so they should have done a pass play instead!\"" ]	2
	[WP] Soylent Green is NOT People. What is it?	[ "\"SOYLENT GREEN IS PEOPLE!\" they had to know. The people had to know.\n\n\nI slapped a container from a woman's hand \"SOYLENT GREEN IS PEOPLE!\"\n\n\n\"No, actually, we've moved away from that.\" She retrieved the can from the ground and brushed it off.\n\n\n\"SOYLENT GREEN IS... wait, what?\"\n\n\n\"Yeah, it turns out that 'people' is actually pretty expensive to process and package.\"\n\n\n\"Then... what is soylent green?\"\n\n\n\"Mainly sawdust and other fillers nowadays. A few artificial colors and flavors and a crap ton of high fructose corn syrup. The usual, really. I could really go for some classic soylent.\" she sighed and cracked open the can.\n\n\n\"This new stuff just isn't the same.\" dipping a finger into the can she pinched off a bit and tossed it into her mouth with a discontented frown." ]	1
Inspired by /u/gmz1013's story of how he lost all memory of Starburst, which he shared in our [chatroom](http://goo.gl/7I566c). Come chat with us!	[WP] Years ago you had a stroke and it caused you to lose some memories. Today you walked by a girl who started waving at you frantically. You have no memory of her at all.	[ "It had happened almost three years ago and yet I’d still not gotten used to it. My right arm still flung out to grasp things that it could by no rights grasp. Usually this resulted in nothing more than me dropping a jar of peanut butter or a glass of mountain dew – Today, however, it resulted in me falling face first into the hard, snow covered concrete.\n\nI lay there for a moment, a groan escaping my mouth before I flung myself back up, wiping myself down with by arms and continuing my journey into the store; I need Peanut Butter and Mountain Dew, the two things which kept me going.\n\nThe store, as usual, was packed – hundreds of people buying their Coke and Nutella (EW on both). I passed by them, all the while rocking out to the music that pumped endlessly through my ear buds.\n\nDamn it, I whispered under my breath, as I realized yet again that I could not remember where they kept the Peanut Butter. To me, it seemed to not to be ever in the same aisle as my previous visit. So I strolled through the store, aisle after aisle, futilely trying to remember the location of the Nutty Butter.\n\nThat’s when I saw her, her hand waving frantically back and forth, her hair – a messy red affair that reminded me somewhat of Doc Brown doo after he learned about the jiggawatt. She seemed to be waving at me… Did I know her? If I did, her face rung no bells – outside of Back to the Future that is – but she seemed to have her eyes locked on me. She seemed to be beckoning me towards her. What could she possible want? Did she see me drop something? Did she need whatever other woman in these stores wanted from me – a tall person to reach the top shelf? – or did she simply find me irresistible and wanted to sneak back to the warehouse to a snog? \n\nBefore I could decide to approach her or not, she crossed the divide and started to pull the headphones out of my ears.\n “Where the HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?” she shouted, “Do you know how long it’s been since we did the job?”\n“Lady, I don’t know what the hell you’re---“\n\n“And where the HELL did you put all the money? Huh? Did you move all the way up here to Podunk New Hampshire just to piss it away? Huh? Answer Me will’ya!?”\n\n The crowd around us had stopped in their tracks – all eyes turned to us as they waited for the unavoidable fight. \n\n\nI'll write more in the morning, maybe", "I remember bits and pieces, how tight my chest felt, how the darkness creeped up on me from the corner of my eyes, as if it was calling me to join them. Inviting me, with malicious intent. \n\nSomehow I resisted. I survived. But as they say, nothing in this world comes free, and well, I payed the price. I forgot everything. It was painful emotionally. How people I have never seen, come up to me and start telling me about how awkward I was and how fun I was to have around. Was. Then slowly they stopped visiting, and slowly I stopped caring. I started realizing, maybe forgetting wasn't such a bad thing. I could start fresh. A blank slate. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise. \n\nIt was around after three months, was I allowed to leave the hospital. I made sure to thank everyone over there, and after a few formalities I left the hospital. The nurses had called a taxi for me, which was supposed to drop me at my parents place. As I stepped outside, I left the comforts of the hospital. I remember thinking that this was going to take a long time getting used to, as I waited for my taxi, outside the hospital doors. \n\nThen from a distance, this woman started waving at me. I was genuinely confused. Who was she? She was above average looking, so she probably wasn't associated with me. Hell, the entire time I was in the hospital, the only females that did ever visit me was my mother and my aunt. I didn't have a girlfriend. Or thats what they told me anyway. So to see this random pretty girl waving at me, took some time to acknowledge. \n\nEven though I had lost my memories, I knew I had to follow the social norms and I waved back at her, with an awkward grin on my face. Maybe I did have a girlfriend? Maybe I was just waiting for the right time to introduce her to my mom. Then, suddenly out of no where, this random guy pops out from behind me and is waving as well. Fuck. FUCK, FUCK. \n\nShe wasn't waving at me. Delightful. My first significant memory is being awkward. Well, maybe, this isn't going to take a long time getting used to." ]	2
	[WP] Overnight, the USA suddenly shares a border with Afghanistan, Iraq, Iran, Vietnam and North Korea instead of Mexico.	[ "About a decade after 1st making contact with Saturians there was a shift in global powers. The Saturians brought to our planet their Landmass and resources reallocation system. Our world map ceased to be recognized. It was also around this time that the Saturians discovered their newest power source. Powerful enough to to fuel all the expansion dreams. \n\nThe Saturians are smart and cunning breed of aliens. They capitalized on human greed, took advantage of our unfair resource distribution models and we're unrelenting in their lobbying of earth's governments. In a span of less then a year we, the human race, enslaved ourselves to the Saturians. The \"chosen few\" alone control the rest. And that is where we begin. \n\nPresident Levi Malkeil has just signed his 1st executive order of his recently purchased presidency. In the peace treaty between the Saturians and the former United States government, Congress was to enact policies for the homogenization of the human race. By doing so, the Saturians would arrange for \"their enemies to be brought to their front door so they may deal with them once and for all. \n\nAs his 1st executive order was being brought to the Capitol, President Malkeil reflected on what he had just done. The Saturians had struck a hard bargin; total elimination or absolut compliance had been the only terms. " ]	1
	[WP] Write from the perspective of a tank crew as their tank is hounded down, disabled, and eventually destroyed by enemy infantry. Make it a horror story.	[ "We thought that we had the advantage, a full tank crew verses some grunts on foot. We didn't realize how many there were.\n\nFirst they disabled the tank treads, this prevented us from going anywhere, but at least they couldn't get in and we could still fire out of the main gun and take occasional shots out of the coupola. Johnny even figured out that he could use the viewports to occasionally mow down the attackers. \n\nThere were just to many of them.\n\nWe are now running low on ammunition. Frank came up with another idea, while we couldn't move we COULD spin the turret around which helped to knock some of them off of the tank. \n\nIt was a great idea while it lasted, but that also required battery power and after the first couple of hours even that ran out. \n\nWe have now sealed ourselves in the tank as best as we could, we so hope that perhaps someone else will get these things off of us from externally. I am not sure how long we can last like this. This was supposed to be short mission so we had very limited water and food, you do not want to know what we did to \"relieve\" ourselves. \n\nI can't believe one of them actually poured gasoline down our barrel, it is seeping down the barrel and into the turret seat. Johnnie got soaked in it before we noticed what was going on and we have been trying to come up with a way to relieve the irritation.\n\nWhen they lit the gas, the flames traveled down the barrel and Johnnie was completely toasted. The smell of the burning flesh, the heat of the fire, watching as first his clothing burnt and then his skin kind of slid off of him...that's something that you will never forget. Luckily he died quickly. \n\nFrank wasn't so lucky, when Johnnie got lit up he thrashed a good bit and managed to get some of the fuel on Franks face. I watch as his face puckered, then started popping with heat blisters. Frank is still alive, but he keeps begging me to kill him. \n\nIf I actually survive this, I don't think I will never ride in a tank again.\n\n+++++++++\n\nAs I take off the VR glasses and the mask, I am so happy to see that I am still sitting in my chair in the middle of the lab. \n\nI tell Johnnie and Frank, I think we have made this game a little too realistic and perhaps we should replace the scent systems to be something nice. \n\nSimulating the smell burning flesh isn't a good idea.", "\"They're coming,\" whispered the commander, \nLooking back at his brave and fearless men. \n\"We will fight them,\" spat the injured gunner, \nGrunting as he bent to find his weapon. \n\nThe tank rocked and the driver, bleeding, squawked. \nSmoke filled the small space, mixed with blood and sweat-- \n\"Sir,\" screamed the driver, \"my steering is locked!\" \nThe commander stared, his eyes and death met. \n\n\"I can't feel my legs, sir!\" cried the loader, \nHis uniform stained with freshly spilt blood. \n\"Sir! Sir, what do we do?!\" cried the gunner, \nHunching as the tank rocked with a loud thud. \n \n\"We pray to our gods,\" wept the commander, \nGaze enraptured by the waiting reaper. \n\n", "\"Fuck this! We shouldn't have taken this route dammit!\" I exclaimed as me, machine gunner Johnny, driver Eric slowly and painfully navigated through the narrow dirt path in this shithole of a dense jungle. We had to cross this path of jungle and rendezvous with the other guys. Instead of crossing the trenches East of the jungle, we decided to go through the jungle to be more camouflaged. Little did we know, this pretext of \"camouflaging\" led to something far more worse. \n\nWe still had an estimate of half a kilometre to go, so we decided to relax a bit, having some small talk among ourselves. We walked about many things, women, love, and the like. We three had\n been assigned to our tank a few months ago, and throughout the campaign, we bonded, and we were like blood brothers. We even thought about having some beers after this shit storm was over. \n\nIn the midst of our chatter, we heard a loud clink of our metal shell which broke off our chatter. I immediately took my binoculars and scouted the surrounding through a tiny slit in the front. Strangely, I saw nothing, so we suspected a sniper. Johnny decided to go to his trusty perforating machine and shoot around, trying to nail the sniper. \n\n\"How's it going John?\" I screamed up, amidst the sound of bullets flying everywhere. Suddenly, the bullets stopped. Just as I was about to climb up to check, a dead John slid down the ladder. He looked awful. His face had been split into 2. Me and Eric looked at each other, shocked beyond words. Then it dawned on me, the sniper from earlier shot off John's face. \n\nBefore we could even say anything, an orchestra of artillery noises enamated in the air. The real nightmare began. We could only move on helplessly as the salvo of artillery shells threatened to kill off what was left of us. \n\nThe force of the artillery shell could be clearly felt. Our tank felt like capsizing. A shell landed on our front and rocked us. Eric flew backward from the shock waves and smashed his head on the steel plate. He was unconscious and his head was bleeding. I could only sit down, cry and pray as the smoke and fire tried to devour our metal titan. \n\n\"H...h...help\", Eric let out a whimper as he breathed his last breath before slumping against the tank wall. His head broke open when he flew backwards, and he died\n of blood loss. \n\nBeing the only one left, I felt afraid and helpless. I decided to stay behind, afraid of the enemy gunning me down once I peek my head out of the entrance. Thus, I just sat on the cold hard floor, rather dying in my tank than getting shot by those bastards. \n\n\"Love you mom and dad. \" I muttered as the flames reached the fuel tank. \n\n", "Even though the streets were quiet, the crews kept the hatches closed and their eyes open. Hours into the city, they tried to scan every window of every building. Kawalsky's tank sat as the 3rd vehicle in the column; one soft-skinned APC and tank ahead, with two tanks following. Kawalsky tried to keep the drew focused, but their eyes glazed from hours of advance without rest. It all blurred together.\n\nThree small lights fell from a window on the left, landing on top of the tank in front, exploding into a blanket of fire, covering the tank ahead. \"MOLOTOVS! PUT A CANISTER ROUND SECOND FLOOR LEFT!\" Kawalsky yelled to the gunner. The second floor exploded into a vapor of debris and dust. Bricks pinged against the tank body as they rained down, and the third floor collapsed, spilling into the street. Kawalsky swing his 12.7 cannon around to check the tanks behind him to check the tanks to the rear. As he did, the commander of the tank ahead climbed from the tank screaming, only to be met by rifle fire from the left. The gunner sprayed fire from his coaxial cannon into the shop blindly. The rest of the crew from the tank ahead cooked in the tank, their screams terrifyingly audible between the gunfire. Kawalsky turned in time to see the tank to his rear fire a canister round into the buildings on the left. Just after the round struck the building, a man from the left appeared from the smoke, throwing a charge down the tank cannon. Kawalsky fired his machine gun, the rounds tearing the bomber's body apart. \"BRAVO THREE, CEASE FIRE! CLEAR YOUR AUTOLOADER!\" Kawalsky yelled through the radio, but it was too late. There was a thud like a sledgehammer hitting a 55 gallon drum, and smoke shot from the hatches of the tank to his rear. The APC to his front pulled over, the crew stumbling out towards the building for cover, but those who left were shot down. Enemies charged the vehicle. The gunner tried to dust the vehicle off, but they swarmed it like ants, firing small arms in the open doors and hatches. Tossing a grenade in, the enemies scattered for cover from the gunner's coaxial cannon fire. Kawalsky shot wildly into the windows all around them. The ground shook with an explosion as an IED set off the magazine of the tank at the rear of the column.\n\n\"GET US THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!\" Kawalsky yelled.\n\n\"We can't go anywhere! We're boxed in!\" the driver yelled back.\n\n\"Through the building! Go!\"\n\nThe driver turned the tank to the right and slammed the tank into the storefront on his right. The vision went dark as it pounded through the brick walls, collapsing parts of the roof on the tank. Light broke as the tank emerged into an alley, then darkened again when it met the back wall of the building on the other side. Light broke once again as the tank emerged onto a deserted street. The tank paused.\n\n\"Now where?\"\n\n\"Shit, they took out the antenna. We're on our own,\" Kawalsky growled.\n\n\"We can't stay here!\" the gunner urged.\n\n\"North. We can hit the highway back to open ground. We have the advantage there.\" Kawalsky ordered.\n\nThe tank turned ans began to crawl North. Kawalsky tried to swivel the gun to check windows, but it crunched and crawled along.\n\n\"Check the turret. How is the movement?\"\n\n\"Filled with shit. She moves, but slow.\"\n\n\"Mine too. Filled with shit from the building.\"\n\n\"We going to clear it?\"\n\n\"No. That's just the golden opportunity they're looking for... One of us exposed on up top. We're just going to get out of here as fast as we can.\"\n\nNone of the three spoke for a time. To be shot or blown up, that was a death, but to cook alive from a molotov cocktail was another thing entirely. The screams of the lead tank echoed throughout the three of their minds.\n\nThe driver spoke first, \"Do you think... we should have hit them with a shell? Stopped their suffering?\"\n\n\"Focus on your job. We're still alive, and we need to stay focused on staying that way.\" Kawalsky cut him off.\n\nThe tank Turned a corner, and in the street stood a group of fighters. The crew and the fighters looked at each other, for an eternal few seconds.\n\n\"Cannister, now!\" the order was shouted to the gunner.\n\nTwo of the fighters dropped to one knee, pointed anti-tank rockets at Kawalsky's tank and fired. One flew past, detonating in a building far behind them, the other ricocheted off the slanted armor in front.\n\n\"We're jammed! I can't get the turret over there!\" The gunner screamed.\n\n\"Turn the tank!\" Kawalsky yelled to the driver, who began to turn the tank to point the gun in their direction. The fighters seeing the jammed gun, started to rush the tank, lighting molotov cocktails.\n\n\"Fuck Fuck Fuck! They've got molotovs!\" The gunner screeeched. Kawalsky fired his 12.7 machine gun into the fighters, blowing the two fighters with RPG's into unrecognizable pieces. Just as the fighters got to about throwing range, the cannon reached them and the gunner fired. The fighters vaporized and the molotovs exploded in giant fireballs.\n\nThe crew sat heart pounding, looking at the scene in front of them. A jagged triangle was cut into the pavement in front of them, flaming from the gasoline with crimson streaks that were once fighters.\n\n\"They're forming to hunt us down. We have to get out of here now. Gun it.\" Kawalsky said flatly.\n\n\"Yes, sir,\" the driver replied, voice quivering.\n\nThey drove around the flames, turning North again. The gunner moved the turret left and right to try to stop it from sticking, recovering some movement. In the distance, there was a cloud of smoke. They reached the end of the street and turned. Formed ahead of them was a roadblock of steel guiders, cement dividers, and cars. They saw fighters all over the road waiting for them.\n\n\"Roadblock!\"\n\n\"There, in front of us! Down the alley!\" Kawalsky ordered. The tank sped into the alley as an RPG flew past behind them. Fighters filled the alley behind them chasing them. \"Behind us!\"\n\n\"It's too tight! I can't turn the cannon around in the alley!\" The fright showed through the gunner's voice.\n\nThe driver cursed the tank as he pushed it to top speed. The debris in the alley slowed its pace, and the fighters were gaining.\n\nKawalsky's machine gun finally swung to the rear, and he picked off fighters as they drew near, each with a burst. The machine gun stopped.\n\n\"I'm dry! Fuck!\" Kawalsky paused. \"Keep heading North out of this alley no matter what!\" He grabbed a can of ammo, slammed his hatch open, and popped up top to reload his machine gun. As he ripped off the spent can, small arms fire came in, announcing its arrival with pings on the hull. A metallic slap against the spent ammo can shook Kawalsky, driving the reality home. He loaded the belt into the machine gun, pulled the charging handle, and felt a punch in the chest as a round hit him in the vest. He was knocked off his feet and fell back into the tank. He patted himself frantically and ran his hand under his vest. Dry. The vest stopped the round. Snapping back into it, he reached up and slammed the hatch closed. Fear, rage, and adrenaline ripped through him. He jumped back to the weapon's controls and yelled as he fired frantically into the following crowd until the barrel began to glow faintly from the heat.\n\nAs they drew closer to the end of the alley, a car flew in front, blocking the exit. Fighters got out, taking over behind it to fire anti-tank rockets. \n\nThe gunner yelled, \"You bastards!\" and fired a shell into the car. The fighters and top half of the car ceased to exist. The tank reached the car, and vaulted over the top.\n\n\"Swing around and hit the wall! Block 'em in!\" Kawalsky yelled.\n\nThe turret and tank swung to the right, and fired a shell into the corner of the building on the right. The corners of the buildings collapsed into the alley, throwing out a cloud of dust.\n\nThe highway was in front of them. Without words, the driver pressed the gas, and moved forward onto it.\n\nAs they reached the safety of the open ground, tears streamed down their faces in the silence.", "\"Contact, 800 meters. 3 o'clock.\" Golden said. The tank slowed as the gunner swiveled the turret bringing the enemy into view. \n\"Got an enemy LAV hiding behind that building. Looks like they are trying to run. Southwick load the 105.\" Johnson said keeping his eyes on the target. Southwick, the tanks munition loader, was finished loading the shell before Johnson could finish asking. \"Firing!\" Johnson said as he squeezed the trigger. The whole tank jolted as the round was expelled. The thin and crumbling wall did little to protect the enemy vehicle. The shell punched through exploding into the enemy vehicle. A fireball quickly enveloped the wreckage. \n\n\"Good effect on target. Sandburn, get us the hell out of here.\" Golden said. Sandburn was relieved at the command. They had been out in the desert picking off targets at a relatively safe distance, but the infantry had run into some heavy fighting and needed some support. Going into a town always made him nervous. Too easy to get picked off from rooftops. \n\n\"What's that 12 confirmed kills today?\" Southwick said patting Johnson on the back. He loved the thrill of battle and their most recent assignments and been dreadfully devoid of combat. Johnson shook it off not really one to gloat. The tank had linked back up with what was left of the Humvee convoy as they egressed out. \n\nThe whole day struck Golden as funny. Months of insurgency and never before had they had such an easy day. It was almost too easy. The concussive blast of a massive IED only proved his point. The second Humvee was now a crater. Small arms peppered the outside of the tank as the ambushed came full swing. \"Suppressive fire!\" Golden commanded. Johnson was already turning to engage and Southwick had the next shell loaded. \n\nIt wasn't good at all. The crater had separated the tank from the rest of the convoy, they'd have to find and alternative route out. The tank was now alone amongst a swarm of enemy soldiers lapping at the chance of claiming an enemy tank. Sandburn continued on down the road only to find another crater to steep to traverse. It was now a guessing game on which way to go. He didn't have time to think. This is what his training was for. Johnson and Southwick kept the main gun firing as well as the coaxial LMG shooting at anything that moved. Golden took control of the fifty cutting down brazen soldiers. The casings rattled on the tank like coins dumped on a metal table.\n\nSandburn turned around another corner only to find a dead end. \"Cut through the building! Golden said in between bursts of his gun. They had no way of knowing who or what might be in the building, the could be demolishing someone's home and the people inside. They had no choice. They had to do it. \n\nThe other side of the building was no better. RPGs blistered by as they plowed out the building. Johnson turned and shelled the location. Debris and dust spewed everywhere as the shell impacted. They were almost out now. The tank was beginning to show the abuse it was taking. Smoldering and twisted metal where rockets had hit, a side armor panel was ripped clean off as they went through the house. They couldn't take much more. Just as they were about to get away a rocket smashed into the side of the tank. The fire extinguishing system roared to life as flames burst out inside the tank. Sandburn was knocked unconscious from the blast. The tank was dead in the water. \n\nWhen Sandburn woke he knew he was in a bad place. The pounding of the main cannon from Johnson had ceased, the 50 had fallen to silence. The muffled sound of the militant crowd echoed in the chamber. \"Status?\" he asked his commander. Golden was propped up against the side clutching his arm. He coughed as he tried to respond. \n\"We're dead. they disabled the weapons, the sensors, and comms are down. We're dead.\" Johnson said dropping the fried radio. A mix of fear and frustration showed on his face. Southwick was aiming his sidearm at the hatch waiting for someone to get it open. The crowd outside began pounding on the tank perhaps trying to find a way in. It wouldn't matter. once they figured out they couldn't break in some explosive charges would finish them off. That was when Sandburn started to notice the floor getting hotter. They weren't going to blow them up. They were going to roast them.", "So, Fury? Eh, fuck it. \n\n\n\n2nd Lieutenant Micheal Puller put his face in his hands. After a minute of holding back tears he looked out over the commander's cupola. Three days. Three fucking days of nonstop combat. Three days of falling back mile after mile. He had gone into battle three days ago with twelve M1A2SEP Main Battle Tanks. He only saw one other tank now, idling next to his. Both were refueling for the third time in two days. 'That's what happens when you put a jet engine in a tank' Micheal thought, as he felt a tug on his leg. \"Message from the CO, sir\", Sergeant Jorge Cruz said as the lieutenant dropped back down into the tank. \"Where are we falling back to now?\", quipped Private First Class Ricky Smith. \"Stow that bullshit right now Private!\" Micheal snapped. \"Okay, okay, geez...\" Smith mumbled. 'If that kid wasn't the best gunner in the Marines, I would have put him on permanent KP duty' Micheal thought as he glared at the gunner, before turning back to Jorge. \"What are our orders?\" he growled. \"We're to fall back 12 klicks, and then hold position. Uh, to the last, Sir. CO's orders\", Jorge said, looking incredibly dejected as he read the last half. \"I knew it...\" Smith mumbled. \"What was that private?!\" Micheal yelled. \"Sir, Nothing, Sir!\", Ricky shouted in response. Sergeant Tyler Wright, who had been content to sit against the door to the ammo storage, stifled a laugh. \"Everyone, get to your stations, we're moving ASAP\", the lieutenant ordered. The men moved quickly in the relatively cramped space of the tank, and within 2 minutes their tank was ready to roll. Micheal radioed the other tank to turn over their engine, when an unnatural screech filled the air. \"Oh fuck...\" was Puller heard come back over the radio. Then he saw what they had been running from for the past three days. A mass of what had once been humanity surged out of a forest a klick in front of them. \"Suckers!\" was all the lieutenant had to shout for the crew to seal the hatches down tight. The main gun, a 120mm Smoothbore cannon, swiveled left towards on coming swarm. Through the gunsight, Micheal could see the...things advancing. \n\n\n\nThe \"Suckers\", as they had been so angrily called, were something the scientists, those who still alive, hadn't figured out yet. They had determined that the disease, or whatever it was, had come on the asteroid that had impacted in Russia half a year ago. The fucking Russians had decided to collect it and poke around with it in Siberia. They also decided that didn't need real containment procedures. When one of their scientists got ill they didn't notice. When he came back the next day with metal blades instead of hands, razor sharp teeth the size of fingers, a mouth that belonged on a snake, and eyes of pure red, they paid attention. Too bad he wiped out the entire lab. Even worse, the victims came back like zombies, but they looked like their killer. The nearby town suffered the same fate. Then the next town, and the next, and then four more before the Russian government responded. One infantry battalion later, and the \"Swarm\", as it was quickly called by the media, was soon spreading like wildfire. A global coalition was formed to counter this threat, but like most international cooperation attempts, it descended into diplomats squabbling over nothing, while their troops sat idly by. Russia fell in a month. China in another. Europe took two more. No one was sure when Africa or the rest of Asia fell. It didn't help that sometimes it only took a small cut or something like that, and the victim would \"turn\" in a few days. The island nations like Japan and Australia fell that way. And that was why a Swarm of roughly fifteen hundred former Americans were charging their tanks. As Tyler loaded a Canister shell, Micheal fought to suppress the memories of his friends and comrades screaming as those abominations clawed their way into the tanks. Whatever those blades were made of managed to cut through some of the strongest armor ever put on a tank. Shuddering, Puller ordered the tank to fire. As the round fired he heard a new voice over the radio. It sounded like the young kid who had refueled them. As Micheal ordered another shell loaded he finally heard what the kid was saying.\n\n\n\n\"They're fucking behind you!\" \n\n\n\nThat was the last thing he heard before the sound of metal scraping and bending filled his ears. And then their screech replaced all other noise.\n\n", "Life through a gunscope is narrow. \nLife in a tank is hot...dirty. \nFour days ago we got separated from our column. \nFour days ago we entered this damn dead end of a valley. \nThree days ago we started losing the brakes. \nTwo days ago, the radiator sprung a leak. \nLast night we ran out of shells for the main gun. \nThis morning both MGs ran dry. \nHaven't eaten in days. \nAll our water is going to the tank. \nThis damned leaky tank. \nWe've been harassed by the dogs more than the damn Muj. \nCan't step out to even piss in the radiator. \nLost the Loader to the beasts. \nLost the Commander to a sharpshooter. \nLost the Driver to himself. \nOnly Yuri went out screaming. \nI won't go out screaming. \nI still have my rifle. \nI still have some ammo. \nWon't go out screaming... \n...screaming...\n", "September 8th 1914, that's when the first tank came off the line, two days later the tracks fell off. Damn things were death traps. They weren't ready to be used on the front but something had to be done to break the stalemate.\n\nLife in the trenches was hell, but it was nothing compared to the life in the tank. I remember the the heat of the engine, the sweat pouring down my back... The constant sound of artillery fire around me as we advanced toward Gerry's trench. \n\nWe had almost reached the trench when my world went upside down. I was thrown against the driver as the tank was tossed hard to the front and left, the guns were crushed between the dirt and our iron Leviathan as we heaved forward.\n\n\"What the hell happened!!!\" I yell as the tank begins to roll again, John moaned as his skull slammed into the starboard side.\n\n\"Damn Gerry blew a hole in the earth, couldn't see it through the damn smoke. Sorry mates!\" Shouted the driver, \"How's John?\"\n\nI knelt down and examined him, blood was pouring profusely out of a large gash on his head, I pulled out my bandages and began wrapping the wound.\n\n\"Not good... We need to get him out of here...\" I replied.\n\n\"Easier said than done mate, tanks don't like to be driven upside down, 'fraid it's on foot from here.\" \n\nI tried the hatch, it barely opened 6 inches, field rations and constant trench charges had done much to slim me down but there was no way I could squeeze through there.\n\n-------------- \n\nWater is running low, John's been in and out constantly, I hear explosions all around. We're going to try to drain water out of the tank's radiator.\n\n---------\n\nThe drivers dead, and hour ago a German soldier tossed a grenade in, he died using himself as a shield for me and John, fat load of good it did, John bled to death 5 minutes ago.\n\n----------\n\nI have to get out, my own men are firing on me. Gerry is trying to advance on me to capture this twisted iron prison, the boys are under orders to keep it out of enemy hands. I have to make it. My hands are bloody from trying to force the hatch... I have to get out! I have to get out! I have to get away from these bodies!!! I have to get out!!!\n\n---------\n\nFinally managed to force the hatch, been crawling through the mud towards my trench. 30 feet, 25 feet, 20...\n\n--------\n\nI'm hit..., damn Gerry got a sniper... It's bad... So much blood... But so close... 15 feet..... 13.. Feet..... 12 fee..\n\n--------\n\nDid I make it? I must have... It's warm here, warm and bright, so bright. I haven't been warm in months. Is that John? No, it can't be... John is... Oh.\n\nI guess not everybody gets to make it home... I hope what say say is true, that this war will be the last.\n\n---------\n\nLoosely based on a true story: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2445626/Incredible-bravery-WWI-tank-crew-survived-72-hours-bombarded-Germans-side.html\n\n--------------\n\nDa " ]	8

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