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First attempt at this. Not sure if its the way it goes down.
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[WP] You and your family are hiding below the floor boards of a group of cannibals. It's been four days, you're nearly out of supplies, all that remains are 30 bags of potato chips.
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[
"Of the logistics I wasn't sure,\nbut too much was the hunger I bore.\nAnd bore I did into my big brother's calf,\nThe closest of flesh hanging free,\nAnd to my surprise not a sound did he make\nThough turning as they did I hastened for more\nRocked to my instinct and whetted to red\nThe hunger alerted the fiends.",
"We had managed to hide in the basement just before they managed to get inside. Thinking it was empty, they decided to make the house their home. Meanwhile the five of us were hiding down here in silence. My wife Lauren had always insisted on keeping emergency food in the basement, and her preparedness had saved our lives. Lots of granola bars and other small but nutritious food, as well as enough water bottles to last a year. \"Water never goes bad!\" she had pointed out.\n\nBut the day had finally come when we were out of her supplies. We still had water, but we had no food left. I began desperately looking through the basement as quietly as I could. I had searched every box but one. I took a deep breath and opened it. My stomach dropped. This was the worst possible thing I could have found. It may as well have been a box of fireworks. I stared down in dismay at the box full of five-year-old bags of SunChips.",
"It's been three days living under the floorboards of this cannibal's house, and all I have left are three bags of Lays (so pretty much one and a half bags of chips) and the water dripping from a pipe. \n\nIt all started as a dare. Me and a few buddies dared each other to sneak into what we thought was an abandoned house. Boy, were we wrong. \n\nWe had all wandered a bit from each other when we heard the door creak open. We each ran for it , but there was no escape for them, I had at least found the trapdoor in his floor. I could here Jack scream from a few rooms down , and then a sickening ***shlick*** as what I assumed to be a knife cut it short. a minute later I hear Sean scream \"SHI-\" before its cut short but the man's blade \n\nI sat there in shock and horror for hours just hoping I would be joining my friends. I could hear the cannibal walking around moving the bodies of my friends he seemed to stack them in the kitchen, or what I think is the kitchen based off the smell.\n\nAbout 10 minutes later I hear the terrible sound of metal grinding on metal \n \n\"What the hell is this guy doing.\" I thought \n\nI would only regret knowing later when I heard the most repulsive and sickening sound I've ever been subject to hear. The sound of an axe going through the human body. A sound I pray you never have to hear in your life and one which I am unwilling to describe. \n\nAnd so I've sat here for two , or is it three, days, rationing out the protein bars and chips I had in my back pack while listening to this cannibal devour my friends ,praying he doesn't discover my location. The odd thing is , besides the whole cannibalism thing, is that sometimes when he talks to himself , I swear that I recognize the voice , I just can't pinpoint it.\n\nI can't take it anymore. I have to leave this godforsaken house even if it means I might die at the hands of that monster. Anything is better than starving to death in this crawlspace. I slowly open trapdoor , praying that it doesn't squeak. Oh god there's that damn sound again , he's sharpening bloody axe again. It's time to end this. \n\nI sneak up behind him , he doesn't here me enter, I strangle from behind and ,oh no , its SHIA LABEOUF. It's actual cannibal Shia Labeouf! He drops the axe and I fight for my life with Shia Labeouf. He whips out a knife, I can't belief it's Shia Labeouf. I wrestle for the knife with Shia Labeouf , I stab it in his kidney. Safe at last , from Shia Lebeouf. \n\nA walk out into the world a new man, for I have beaten , Shia Lebeouf.\n\n \nEdit: Yes I know this isn't exactly the prompt but I saw the chance and I took it.",
"We were at an impasse. The cannibals knew we were down there. We had weapons, but so did they. The trapdoor to the cellar was locked from our side. The floor was reinforced with steel beams. It would take them days to get through, and we would probably be able to take a few of them out as well.\n\nBut that meant no food for us, either. It had been four days, we were nearly out of supplies, all that remained were 30 bags of potato chips. We had already eaten the pretzels, and those pretzels were making us thirsty. Without water, those chips wouldn't do us much good.\n\nExcept as a bargaining chip. Lol. Get it, 'bargaining *chip*'? \n\nThe cannibals had not had anything but human flesh for weeks. I was banking on the fact that they would crave some other form of food, and who can resist a crunchy, greasy potato chip?\n\n\"Dan!\" I called up to the cannibal in charge. \"I have an offer for you!\"\n\nI heard some shuffling as Dan walked over and knelt down above us. \"What could you possibly offer *us*?\" He asked, his voice slightly muffled by the ceiling/floor. \"You are our prisoners, and soon enough, we're going to eat you!\"\n\n\"What about some nice, crunchy potato chips?\" I opened the first bag with a loud crackle. I placed the first chip in my mouth and chomped it as loud as I could. From the silence above me I could tell there was a reaction. He was thinking about it. I held the bag out to my family, and we all started crunching loudly.\n\n\"Where did you get those!?!\" Dan sneered from above. \n\n\"Well, we were all set for our family reunion when your group fell upon our little town. But don't worry about that! The question is, would you like some? We have 30 - well, 29 now - bags of these chips, and I'm willing to barter some of them for safe passage for me and my family.\"\n\nHe thought about it. \"What flavor?\"\n\nI told him that we had 14 Plain, 7 B-B-Q, and 8 Sour Cream & Onion bags left.\n\n\"I don't like Sour Cream and Onion chips,\" he said. \"So don't even bother with those.\"\n\n\"Okay fine. There are 11 of us down here. You let us go, and I'll give you 11 bags of chips.\"\n\nHe thought about it, then said, \"That's not gonna work. I want 2 bags per person, not just one.\"\n\n\"Okay,\" I relented. \"So that's all the BBQ, all the plain, and just 1 SC&O then.\"\n\n\"I said I don't like sour cream chips, they don't count! You only get 10 people. We get a person also. Your choice who.\"\n\nThere wasn't even any discussion; we already knew who we would choose. \"Fine, you can have Uncle Charlie.\"\n\nI unlocked the trapdoor, and my family members started climbing up the ladder. We made Dan and the rest of the cannibals stand on the other side of the room as we brought up the chips.\n\nWe sent Uncle Charlie over with the chips and the Cannibals quickly ate him.\n\nThen we turned to leave, but found the door was locked. I turned to Dan, \"Hey what gives? We had a deal!\"\n\nHe looked at me with a gleam in his eye. \"Sorry,\" he said. \"I can't eat just one.\"",
"When he woke under the floorboards in the dank and must of the constant darkness he'd reach out to touch the child sleeping beside him. Days and nights bled together and stretched like the gray rays of sun or moon falling aslant through floorboards. He slowly crawled around the boy and felt for food in the blind way they had lived for days but found none. In the dream from which he had awakened he was also crawling in a cave where he led the child behind him. Desperate for escape but knowing he was only lying to the child like pilgrims in an unholy land where God had died. There was a sound like a hissing that was quiet and constant. Rustling in the silence like a reminder of civility and the promise of comfort. Until they reached a great steel room where lay a silvered lake. From the high ceiling came a sliver of light that bounced off its iridescent surface which ebbed and flowed like water but the skin crinkled like something else. The sound it made echoed in the room and soon drowned the promise with a terrible sound.\n\nWith the first gray light he squatted in the corner and peered into the shadows. He reached out with his hand and felt a resistance. It was a box. A box full of life and death. He spread out a small cloth they used for a table on the ground. He pulled out his knife and set it next to the box and took his pistol from his belt and laid it on the cloth. He watched the boy and then looked at the ceiling. Forgive me, son, he whispered into the dark.\n\nHe reached into the box.\n\nHis hands were shaking.\n",
"It's weird, but cannibals don't seem to eat their own kind. Why is that? Some kind of cannibal code? Or does cannibal meat taste tainted? Who would know, who cares. All we know is that they haven't eaten for days.\n\nWe've been down here underneath the floorboards now for two weeks, and we're just about to finish our supplies. We had food enough to last us for two months, but being big boys, we just ate and ate. I guess being part of the state football team gave us big appetites.\n\nBut we're strong now. We're all carbo loaded, and bored out of our skulls. Salt and vinegar chips. Who the fuck eats that shit? No way we're eating that crap. We're going to have to find other sources of food.\n\nThose cannibals aren't human, they're animals. We're ready to bust out now. It's okay to eat animals, right?",
"I bowed my head as the sounds of feasting came from above once again. They seemed to come more and more often now, as real food became harder and harder to find. I doubt anyone left up there is sane anymore. It was either hunt or be hunted. Those who refused to hunt... I don't want to think about it.\n\nHere I was, the last beacon of civilization in a world gone wrong. Sitting alone, reminiscing days past, nibbling on what remained of an already meager food supply. However, I felt a measure of pride in the hunger. I alone had not yet resorted to the repulsive cannibalism practiced by others. \n\nI glanced in the pantry. One can left. Campbell's Chicken Soup. Yum. Aside from a stack of potato chips left in the corner from my high school days, this was my remaining meal. I tried to refrain from eating, but the pain in my stomach was keeping me from sleeping. I sat and put my head in my hands. There was no hope. I was doomed.\n\nThat's when I heard it. The voice. It was majestic, yet humble. Proud, yet soft. \n\n*My child, the earth has grown wicked once more. The time has come for a second flood. As the last symbol of purity in this world, you must preserve yourself and the innocent creatures.*\n\nThey were true. The stories I had heard as a child, but brushed off. It was time then, as the second Noah to reclaim the.... wait a second.\n\n\"Lord, how am I possibly going the build this without any materia-\"\n\nMy eyes fell on the stack of potato chip bags in the corner.\n\nOh, [fuck](http://si.wsj.net/public/resources/images/BN-ET380_skboat_G_20140929021858.jpg).",
"I smiled. \n\nJust about 4 days ago I wouldn't have because the hunger was driving me nuts. This very evening we finished our last MRE in the saferoom.\n\nNo one is coming, that much I can tell.\n\nSince the bombs fell, supplies have been scarce. Supply drops from Aid Organisations come and go. Some people starved to death, and yet others found a more ingenious solution. The one source of meat that was still rather plentiful.\n\nSo when Morgan a few doors down started screaming in the night, we realized that we would be next. So we hid.\n\nI don't think they knew we were in here, which I guess was why they decided to set up camp in our house.\n\nSo you might ask me, why am I smiling?\n\nPotato chips and hiding? Do you have a death wish?\n\nOf course not. But you see, my mother was always against guns. She would scream and yell and never let any in the house. So when my grandfather passed on and left me his prized Lee Einfield I had to hide it somewhere.\n\nDown the basement it went. But it was too obvious. The box needed extra room for ammo so it stuck out like a sore thumb. I loved chips, so I knew my mother would think nothing of it were I to dump a whole bunch in the basement for storage.\n\nOver time I forgot about it, and I told my mother I sold it so she never bothered me about it again.\n\nI throw a glance at my mother, and start carefully removing the packets of chips to reveal the box. She looks confused, until I open the box and start loading the rifle.\n\nI pass her the chips and tell her to start eating as I aim the rifle at the trapdoor.\n",
"This is it. This is what I've been practicing for. All those nights sneaking into the kitchen to grab some food while my parents sleep has led to this moment. \n\n\nI've had to carefully open cookie packages, cabinets, soda bottles and many other things, but nothing compared to opening chips. Specially when my parents bought those stupid Sun Chip bags that made more noise than a gay black man in a sitcom. \n\n\nI could hear the heavy footsteps of the cannibals above us. It must've been two or three, no more than five. It was hard to tell. They had resorted to grunting and occasionally slurring a word or two. The fear in my family's face was too real. I had to do this. I had to. \n\n\nI slowly shifted my body to reach one of the bags. Thankfully these were boring old chip bags. I slowly dragged one across the floor towards me. I managed to have the bag right in front me without making virtually any noise. I knew exactly how I was going to open it. I had done it hundreds of times. \n\n\nI pinched the bag on its side. I bit it slowly; perforating a small, tiny hole. I carefully let air out in small intervals of time. Oh the sweet smell of fresh chips. \n\n\nOnce all the air was out, I slowly made the hole bigger and bigger. I grabbed one chip at a time out of the bag. Everyone got a few chips. Nobody dared to eat one. \n\n\nAfter being down there without talking for so long, we established a sign language of sorts. Something only people there would understand. I let them know to the best of my ability that they should put the chip in their mouth, but not to bite it. Suck it. Suck it in your mouth until it becomes soggy. \n\n\nWe successfully ate all the chips in the first bag. We had a lot more left. There was a sense of relief and hope. These cannibals have to leave at some point. We can wait. We definitely can wait. \n\n\nI was about to reach for the second bag when we heard the cannibals begin to grunt. I could distinguish a few words. \n\n\n\"Boss- - - ANGRY - - - FOOD!\"\n\n\nWe heard the door open. The cannibals immediately stop their bickering. A set of footsteps walks in. These were different footsteps. They were light and swift. The footsteps stopped right on top me. \n\n\n\"I see you have not found any food?\" said a cold, but fancy voice. \n\n\nMy heart dropped. He could talk. He wasn't a cannibal. Or was he? \n\n\n\"Don't worry friends\", said the voice as it walked across the room. \"I brought something that could help. They will be an excellent resource for you.\"\n\n\nThe cannibals began to grunt again. Some sort of excitement felt the space above us. Meanwhile we felt our bodies trapped without hope. \n\n\nThe cannibals quieted again.\n\n\nThe person spoke again. This time he spoke more firmly. Determined, but with a snarky attitude. Almost as if they knew we were listening. \n\n\n\"Bring the dogs in.\"",
"It had to be potato chips. Of all the food in all the world to be hiding out with, it had to be potentially the most impractical of all. Scott was convinced that even the most deft-handed cat burglar could not consume a packet of chips without alerting anyone within a 100 mile radius. Alright, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration, but give him a break, Scott is currently in a very hairy situation.\n\nYou see, Scott, his younger sister and his mother are hiding under the floorboards of their neighbour's house. Why are they hiding, I hear you ask ? Because there are people out there who are hungry, and they are after more than just potato chips. It's 2015, and a family is hiding from a bunch of what can only be described as cannibals. \n\nThey were at least, Scott reasoned, quite polite, as far as cannibals went. A week ago, they had entered the small rural town and checked into a room at the only hotel. Three fairly inconspicious looking men and two very tall and very thin women. Scott knew this because he was a bellboy at this very hotel. He was the bellboy, to be exact.\n\nThe five of them had checked into one two bedroom room, sort of odd for five adults, but who was Scott to judge, he and his 6 year old sister shared a room. They hadn't tipped him well, but people rarely did. For some reason, visitors seemed to think they could get away with it when they weren't in the city. \n\nNothing else out of the ordinary had occured until the group had ordered room service. They didn't seem particularly worried about what they were ordering, but were quite insistent that the rather plump cleaner from the lobby brought their food up to them. At this point, Scott had to concede they were a little weird, which turned out to be the understatement of the century. Helen took their food up to them, looking rather perplexed. When she hadn't returned after two full hours, Scott became curious, but mostly annoyed. Damned if he was going to clean all of the rooms by himself.\n\nWhat Scott saw in that room when he entered, he would never mention to another soul, as long as he lived. What he did do, was run as fast as he could to his car and drive straight home. All five of them had been gone. The windows had been open. \n\nScott had returned home to find his mother and sister huddled together in her car. Abby wouldn't stop crying and all his ashen mother could muster was that five people carrying an assortment of weapons and wearing, aprons, had entered a house three doors down. Scott's mother said she had never heard screams like that before in her life. Scott's mother was an ER nurse. \n\nSo here we find them, huddled under their elderly neighbour's floorboards with the old man. He had been oddly calm about the whole situation, but then Mr. Stepanovic didn't speak much English, so Scott was not convinced he fully grasped the gravity of the situation. He would later explain to Scott that he grow up in Serbia in the 30s, and nothing scared him. \n\nFootsteps could be heard sporadically above them, but it appeared they had chosen another house on their street for their head quarters. They had taken a headcount of the street based on pictures and other information collected from the various houses. Even going so far as to shotgun people and to Scott's horror, sometimes body parts.\n\nThere were two sets of footsteps today and they had an announcement. The 4 of them were the last ones left. Scott hoped against hope that they might cut their losses and move on. \n\n\"One of them is that little shit of a bellboy, scuffed the hell out of my suitcase. I'm going to relish having him with.. relish !\"\n\nThe two cackled manically and Scott did not breath for 2 full minutes. When the footsteps receded upstairs he felt his mother's trembling hand resting on his. Scott was about to spout some false bravado when the old man spoke up. \n\n\"Scott, Cynthia, I have three shotguns out in my shed, I think it's time we took matters into our own hands. I may be old, but I don't intend to go out on someone's dinner plate.\"\n\nThe three looked at one another and nodded silently, Cynthia clutching her young daughter tightly to her chest. They were about to head towards the supposedly hidden trapdoor, when it creaked open."
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[WP] A wanted man sits down next to you at a bus station, you're the first person that recognizes him.
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[
"One evening Timothy sat down at the bus station. There was a pretty lady sitting on the bench so Timothy sat next to her leaving a small buffer zone between. He started to talk and stopped when he realized he had nothing to say. He was too busy imagining their three children--twin girls and a baby boy. She looked at him and raised her eyebrow. Then a good idea occurred.\n\n\"Want to rob a bank?\" Timothy joked.\n\nThe pretty lady chuckled and declined. Before Timothy could continue the joke, a man sat in the buffer zone between them. The man had a large beard, and sunglasses. Timothy recognized him from a news report that morning. He was the Thief of Flushing.\n\nTimothy took a deep breath. The bus pulled up. The three of them entered. The bus was empty other than the old driver. The Thief of Flushing sat near the driver, to Thomas' dismay. The perfect place for something bad. The pretty lady sat farther down. Thomas sat right next to the pretty lady.\n\n\"I'd like some space, please,\" the pretty lady said.\n\n\"I'm sorry, but I think you're in danger,\" Timothy said and pointed at the Thief. \"That man is wanted. He's the Thief of Flushing.\"\n\nThe pretty lady squinted. \"I don't know. I thought he had blonde hair.\"\n\n\"You're mistaken. It was brown. I'm certain that's him.\"\n\n\"Well, then why haven't you called the police if you're certain?\"\n\nTimothy took a deep breath. He imagined the long life ahead he had with this pretty lady. He had yet to do anything to earn it. \"Because I have a better idea.\"\n\nTimothy rose and marched toward the front of the bus. He passed the Thief of Flushing and went up to the old driver. He waited until they reached a red light. Then Timothy punched the old man, and took the wheel. The pretty lady screamed and the Thief of Flushing acted strange. The Thief picked up the driver and sat him in a seat.\n\n\"I've called the police,\" the pretty lady said.\n\n\"Perfect,\" Timothy said. \"They can meet us at the precinct.\"\n\nTimothy drove passed a few bus stops as pedestrians gestured. The Thief of Flushing had his hand on the driver's shoulder, menacingly. \"He is probably stealing from the poor old driver right now,\" Timothy thought. The pretty lady looked especially pretty in the big rear view mirror.\n\nTimothy pulled up to the police precinct. Cop cars were waiting with flashing lights, hiding behind their cars with guns drawn. Timothy looked at the pretty lady, the unconscious old driver and the menacing Thief of Flushing. Timothy winked at the pretty lady and exited the bus. \"I've caught the Thief of Flush--\" Timothy started, but was stopped when a few officers tackled him.\n\nAfter Timothy had been cuffed, and the old driver was taken to the hospital, the Thief of Flushing chatted with the pretty lady. Timothy huffed and was charged with assault.",
"My god, it was him. \n\nMy head began to swim, as this *thing* stared blankly at the timetable. He was undeniably Rushmoor Evans, the *loathsome scum* who slaughtered dozens of children by breaking into that Californian middle school with an automatic rifle and mowing them down. Footage recorded by one of the survivors showed him laughing as the bullets rained down on the fleeing kids. Laughing manically as they fell around him, their cries only adding to his glee. That was the only time I'd ever thrown up because of something I'd seen. It was his eyes that made me truly disgusted, his eyes that were lit up like he was having the best time of his life. \n\nAnd he was next to me. He had slipped from the clutches of the law around a couple of years ago and hadn't been seen since, but here he was, acting like everything was fine! Why isn't anyone saying anything? Are they scared? There were at least 8 or so others around me, but they gave him no more attention than they would give anyone else. My head spun faster and faster, this *creature* that killed my daughter, this *monster* that cut her down, that tore apart family after family, was just calmly waiting for the bus. Who the **FUCK** does he think he is?\n\nI didn't want to go downtown, but Evans was in the seat in front of me. Home can wait. I spent the journey thinking of a plan, a way to end this once and for all. Every single fibre of my body was screaming, aching to do something about him. I couldn't call the police, the moment they came close he would slip away again into the night. However, the night is my friend now. I checked once more, and yep, there it was. The distinctive scar that was all over the news when he disappeared, what all the authorities were asking people to be on the lookout for. It tore the back of his head up, caused by a gang war that ended up with some psycho slashing the back of his head repeatedly. That was one of the causes explored on the news as to why he would do what he did, possible brain damage I seem to remember. Honestly I don't really care about all that now. I could see him preparing to move.\n\nAs the bus sped off, it was pitch black out. The cold nipped at me as I followed Evans, staying back to use the cover of darkness to not be seen. My Glock caught the light of a street lamp and glistened. I knew keeping one on me at all times, hidden away for self-defense, would come in useful. I smiled to myself. Finally my torture can be over. I won't get prison time when they find out who it was. I'll be a national hero. The happiness I felt at being able to avenge my daughter almost made me miss Evans ducking into a side street. Not on my watch, you piece of shit. \n\nI caught him unlocking his door, right on the ground floor. Perfect. I took a second to savour the terrified look in his eyes as he saw me raise my Glock, to deliver justice right to his cerebral cortex. There was only one thing I wanted to say, as this man stood, powerless, staring with wide eyes at his fate.\n\n\"For my daughter.\"\n\nHis brain exploded. Years of training on the range ensured that there was no chance of missing this man. His body shot back as the alley was redecorated with what was once Rushmoor Evans. I started away, aware of the shot being more than loud enough to wake up the people in the apartment and probably in the immediate area, and I'd rather not be hanging around.\n\nWait.\n\nWhy?\n\nOf course I wanted to hang around. I would be loved across the globe, stopping this man committing a hideous crime again, and delivering justice. This...man. I haven't thought of him as a man since the event. Of course I hadn't, he was a monster. So why the hell did I just think that?\n\nI remembered just before I killed him, I thought of him as a man as well. Without even realising. For most people, that wouldn't be a big deal, but I could never see him as anything more than an animal. I always thought no human could do the kind of things he did, especially in the way he did. \n\n**THUD**\n\nA sharp pain sprung though my body. My head was roaring, seething with pain. My vision was reduced to just wild, darting reds and blues. I couldn't think, I couldn't breathe, I couldn't do anything except let out a scream, lost in the cacophony happening inside me.\n\nIt stopped. Just like that, it was over. I could see the floor, and it took me a good couple of minutes to compose myself and get up. A tall, graceful gentleman was standing over me. A wide-brimmed hat covered his face, and he wore a long, sweeping coat that gently blew in the wind. \n\n\"It is complete.\"\n\nWith that short sentence, he spun on his heels and left. I found myself staring after him. He looked...familiar. I wasn't quite su...\nI noticed a syringe, sticking into my leg. Empty. I pulled it out, and as I was staring at it my memories came flooding back. \n\nI remembered everything.\n\nThe facility. The hellish 'treatment' sessions, attacking my mind. Torture, day in and day out. Breaking me.\n\nOnce I was broken, they edited me. Taught me how to truly hate. Encouraged violence, training me how to use handguns. I was nothing but a drone, willing to do anything to escape the torture. Repeating, day after day for months, the simple phrase. Kill Rushmoor Evans. The loudspeaker reached everywhere; there was no escaping the voice. It never changed, never stopped. As I watched the faked school shootings, it would repeat. As I looked at pictures of my fake daughter, it would repeat. \n\nThe horror of my situation dawned on me. Rushmoor Evans had never existed. The school shooting had never happened. I never had a daughter. I was programmed to kill an enemy of the Agency. They had stolen me, taken me in the dead of night, and taught me to kill. But why would they give me my memories back? I can just report them to the police, then they will all be arrested....\n\nI realised that if I reported them to the police, then I would go down for the rest of my life. I would be seen as a loony, I don't know where the facility I was kept in was, how long I was there for, anything. I lived alone, no-one checked on me. Of course, I was the perfect target. No one who cares, not after my parents passed a couple of years back. Through my tear-stained eyes, I glimpsed the cloaked gentleman coming back. I remember why he seemed so familiar. He was the one dictating the torture, what device was to be used on what day, etc. How could I have ever forgotten?\n\n\"You remember?\" he asked. I nodded. \n\n\"You have two choices. One, the police arrive, and you get thrown in jail when any sane jury in the country throw out your claims of abduction and mental manipulation. You will rot away in jail, maybe even face death row for the awful way you did it. Calculated, planned. You don't stand a chance.\"\n\nI felt sick. This was it. I was a pawn, used and discarded when it had done it's job. I faced the floor and almost began sobbing in despair when the gentleman spoke again.\n\n\"Or two. You can follow me. We have grand plans, and you have already had the initial training. We will give you food, comfort and shelter, and you can aid us in our noble goal. We will give you more information once you join us.\"\n\n*Once* you join us. He sounded so sure, but he knew I had no choice. Taking out a tissue, he wiped my eyes, smiling at me kindly. \n\n\"You ready?\" he asked. \n\n\"Yeah. Let's go.\" ",
"He can see it in your eyes. That brief flicker of recognition is all it takes.\n\n\"I've seen that look before\" he says after you break eye contact. A trickle of sweat makes its way down your side. Your bladder is suddenly full and your whole body is tingling.\n\n\"I did it... I had to do it...\" He puts his face in his hands and his body shakes with a muffled sob. Your fight or flight reflex is fighting against your natural human curiosity.\n\n\"They took her. They took my little girl.\" Your eyes dart around the station. No one else has recognized him. You can't see any guards around.\n\n\"I was the Paragon of Justice. They weren't always on my side, but I was always on theirs.\" He lifts his head out of his hands. Tears streak down his cheeks. Your mind has gone numb. You can't move. Can't scream.\n\n\"They took it all from me. They exposed me and broke me down. I have nothing left.\" He stands up. His shoulders hunched, he makes eye contact once more. Your heart stops.\n\n\"A wise man once told me, 'you either die a hero or live to become the villain.' He was right. She is my daughter and I would kill them all again to get her back.\" A little girl runs up to the man and grabs his hand. They walk away. Your body seems to give out all at once. You slump back and sob uncontrollably. Your daughter next to you oblivious to what just transpired.",
"There's not an intake of breath. I keep cool. Jonah Wren, number one on the FBI's most wanted list, is sitting next to me. I don't set my newspaper down. He can't see my face, either. Surely he must be worried someone recognizes him? We're not alone, after all. Maybe he's plotting to kill both me and the other patron waiting here?\n\nA moment later, a muffled shot rings out and blood sprays from a hole where the side of his head used to be.\n\nI quietly fold my newspaper over onto itself, and stand.\n\n\"Doesn't this make you number one, now?\" the man across from me asks, pulling an oversized plastic bag and a bonesaw from his otherwise empty suitcase.\n\nI grin, holstering my pistol. \"Of course not. The FBI will never find the body, so it'll be ages before he's off the list.\"\n\nThat's life as an assassin for you. All the messy cleanup, none of the glory.\n\nJust the way I like it."
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It just happened without any warning. There is nothing else that remains of earth.
[Link](http://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/30h8cw/what_can_be_removed_from_existence_entirely/cpse3lo) to original Askreddit Thread
Idea from /u/ScottTheHedgehog and me
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[WP] The crew of the ISS wakes up to find the earth is gone. [x-post from askreddit]
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"Darkness, for miles and miles. We're only travelers now. \n\nAll we ever were is gone now, and until we're gone, we'll be all that is left of humanity. We came here seventy-three days ago but will never go home. Home doesn't exist anymore. Thousands of years of civilization are lost forever, the only true home any of us ever had. We never really got around to leaving any real kind of mark, but we were so close.\n\nSeventy-three days ago we arrived at the ISS to research the effects of underground subatomic particle testing on the Earth's crust from space; about Fifty-eight days ago we woke up to find out we were not in orbit anymore, we had no radio contact anymore, and in the place where the Earth and its moon were supposed to be was nothing. Two weeks ago, we ran out of our food supply and we are slowly starving to death.\n\nWhen I realized the Earth was gone, I don't think I panicked. In fact, I was pretty calm about it. There wasn't much I could have done. Continue research, work until I'm dead? What's the point, anyway? Any form of life, if there even is one, probably won't care about us. We are the only result of human life they will ever find, and we failed our mission.\n\nWe're only travelers for now.\n",
"Sleeping in space is actually quite relaxing. Sleeping on air is the dream. I unhook myself from the harness. First one up again. Where’s the John he’s supposed to be on watch? I start my morning with a quick peek at the world below and then status checks.\n\n“Where is it?! Guys, guys wake up1 The earth is gone!”\n\nThe other guys wake with a jolt. “What?”\n\n“Every time i wake i look out this window and look at earth, But today its not there it’s gone.” I reply.\n\n“That doesn’t make sense let me see.” Hank looks out the window. “Oh Shit!”\n\n“See I told you.” I exclaim.\n\nJust then John pops in from a hatch. “What’s all the commotion?”\n\n“Earth is gone.” I point out the window.\n\n“No it’s not. It’s just out that way he points to a window on the other side of the station pointed in the opposite direction. “we rotated while you guys were sleeping.\n\n“oh…. well thats embarrassing.\"",
"Despite what some people may think space has an inviting comfort to it. My father once described the blackness of the universe’s void as perfect darkness, I still haven’t heard a better representation of it. Almost entirely alone, adrift sleeping on a space station: a tiny spec – a blip – in the cosmos and enveloped by the shroud darkness as if tucked in under a massive blanket. I feel untouchable up here, despite the dangers. No animal, weather pattern, car crash or human can harm me. \n\nBut the best part is the view. Every morning, I wake and look out of my window, searching for the brilliant glowing sunrise off the Earth’s exosphere. I don’t know how anyone can stand looking at a sunrise or sunset again, once they head home. It pales in comparison. It’s what I miss most.\n\nI miss the reflecting sun off the clouds, the perfect silence from a world so incredibly loud. I miss the vibrant blue oceans, the stoic land masses and awe inspiring weather patterns.\n\nWe’ve been floating –drifting – for 47 days now. Each night I go to sleep knowing I’m simply having a nightmare. Each morning I wake and look for home, I’m greeted with a void. A suffocating blackness that dulls my senses. We are alone.\n\nPerfect darkness. There’s not a better term for it.\n",
"Posted this as a response to someone in the askreddit thread, but I think it will get better exposure here. \n\n-------\n\nISS Log \"3/27/15\"\n\nEarth is gone! Some time during the \"night\" the planet earth has disappeared from orbit around the sun. We can still see the moon, and we are still in what we can tell is our relative position to where Earth should be, but the planet below has vanished. We tried contacting mission control, but to no avail. As far as we can tell, all of the human race has vanished along side the planet as well. The few of us left alone up on this small metal box is all that is left of humanity at this time. More to follow.\n\n---------\n\nISS Log\" 4/27/15\"\n\nIt has been a month now since the planet Earth has gone missing. There is no explanation that we can think of up here. Our supplies are limited. We dont have much left at this point. We were scheduled to have a resupply last week. It never came. Tensions are high as of late. Robert had a small panic attack yesterday. From the limited functionality of our systems that are still working, I would seem that we are no longer in \"orbit.\" Without Earth's gravity holding us to our current course, we have shot away from our normal trajectory. The moon is much further away that it should be. We are drifting closer to the sun from the looks. If we continue heading along this path, I am afraid that we may come just a little too close to the sun for our own comfort.\n\n----\n\nISS Log \"5/13/15\"\n\nIt is as I feared. Having shot away from the planet at the angle we were on, the station is heading on a direct collision course for the sun. I have not yet told the rest of the crew of my findings, but I can tell that deep down they know. We only have enough food stores for a few more weeks. Time is running out.\n\n-----\n\nISS Log \"6/1/15\"\n\nYesterday I came forward to the rest of the crew of my findings of our trajectory. As I expected, there was an incident that came about in the night. John couldn't take the stress anymore. He flung himself out the air lock without a space suit. Determined to end his life sooner rather than later. I envy him a little. At least he will no longer feel the pain of a slow inevitable death.\n\n-----\n\nISS Log \"6/19/15\"\n\nThe last of the food is gone now. As it stands, we only have a few days left. If we do not die of starvation first, we will surely die from the sun before the end of the month. Alice has followed John as well in choosing the quick way out. I too have contemplated ending it sooner rather than later. But I feel I have a duty to write my experiences down. I know it is stupid. They will only be destroyed by the sun long before anyone will ever get a chance to read them. But still, I am compelled to write.\n\n----\n\nISS log \"6/25/15\"\n\nI am all that is left. I am more hungry than I have ever been in my life. I want nothing more to end it all and bask in the comfort of deaths embrace. Its strange. I find myself longing for a nice homemade cheeseburger like I used to get back home. Wherever home is anymore. The warm meat, the gooey cheese, all on a nice soft sesame seed bun. If I could have one thing as my last final meal in life, I would like it to be that. I can only hope that there is one waiting for me in death.\n\n----\n\nISS Log \"6/27/15\"\n\nI am so...tired...I can feel the heat of the sun coming upon me now...within the next few days the ship should be burnt into nothingness. My stomach is in constant protest of the lack of food...but there is nothing left. I am just so tired now. I just want to sleep..If I just rest my eyes for but a second, maybe I can get a few.....quick...minutes....of.....re...................................................\n\n..............................................................................................................................................................................\n\n..............................................................................................................................................................................\n\n..............................................................................................................................................................................\n....................................................*Transmission End*"
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I hope I did this right (first timer)
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[WP] humanity has been under the delusion that we require sleep everyday. You discover that human bodies are trying to evolve to the next level of consciousness, but sleeping every night resets the process. You try to explain this is why you are not sleeping, but no one believes you until...
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"\"So who are you going to the dance with?\" Kyle asked. \n\"I dunno. I doubt I'll even go.\" \n\"What?\" Kyle looked surprised. \"Everyone is going, man. It's going to make you seem like a loser if you don't go. Plus you know that Emily digs you. You should totally ask her to go.\" \n\"When did you get so concerned with my social life?\"\nKyle laughed, \"Dude, you know I'm taking Beth. I barely know her, so I was really hoping you were going so I wouldn't have to deal with any awkward silence, you know?\" \n\"Yeah. Well, I'll think about it. You know I just don't really enjoy huge social things like that.\" \n\"Well, all right. Let me know what you decide! See you after school?\" Kyle had already started walking off. \n\"Not tonight. Got a bunch of work to do!\" \n\"Cool. Well hit me up! You've got my number!\" \nHe disappeared into the crowd of students in the hallway, but I could clearly hear his distinct laugh over the sounds of everything else. He always did this weird, high pitched screech whenever he thought something was funny or when he ran into someone he hadn't seen in awhile. It always startled me. It's part of what made him Kyle, though. \n \nIt was my last class for the day. Thank God. \nI really didn't think I was even going to make it through the first two classes, but my friend Will showed up with coffee this morning. I normally hate coffee, but today I chugged the whole damn cup before I even realized that it was still scalding hot. It burnt the hell out of my tongue, but I was so tired that it really didn't even bother me most of the day, save for lunchtime, where I was very unforgivably reminded when I tried to take a bite of a jalapeño burger. That definitely woke me up for a bit. \n \nI heard the school bell ring. Everyone started shuffling out of their desks. \n\"Oh shit. Class is over.\" I thought to myself. \n\"Didn't I just sit down?\" I looked around at everyone. Everyone was walking out of the class, either groaning about homework or talking about the dance. \nI looked at the clock. It read 12:45, which is the normal time I get out of my last class, but I could have sworn I had just sat down. There was no way I had been in my desk for more than 4 or 5 minutes. I started to think that maybe I had dozed off, but before I could even assure myself of that, I looked down to my desk, where I had taken a full class's worth of notes. I didn't exactly figure out what happened, but I didn't really want to sit in my desk all day trying to figure it out, so I quickly packed my stuff and headed out the door and started walking to the parking lot. \n \nI got in my car trying to remember anything I could from the class. I even pulled out my notes to see if they would help jog my memory. Nothing looked familiar though. I slammed my binder shut and threw it to the side. I knew I just needed sleep. I hadn't slept in 3 or 4 days. No reason why, really. The first night I stayed up was to catch up on a project that was due the next day. The second night was because there was a midnight marathon of my favorite show, and I really wanted to catch up on it. The night after that, I don't really even remember. I think I just played video games or something. Last night I kept trying to sleep but I wasn't tired until I saw the sun come up. So I guess it has been four days. I definitely need to sleep when I get home. \n \nI grabbed my key out of my pocket to put it in the ignition. My key sticks sometimes, so occasionally you have to fight it to go into the keyhole. It took me a second, but I finally cranked it up. I lean back in my seat and look out the windshield. \n\"What the fuck\" I jumped back in my seat, startled. I could feel the color drain from my face. \nI was already at my house. \n \n\"What the fuck\" I say again. I looked around. I was in my normal parking spot. Everything seemed fine. \nI opened the door and walked around my car to see if everything was okay. I didn't exactly know what I was looking for, but I felt like I needed to check. I guess I wanted to make sure I didn't wreck into anything or run any kids over or something. I spent about ten minutes looking around without finding anything before I went inside. \n \nI went straight to my room and tried to sleep. I could already tell I was going to waste a lot of my time laying on my bed with my eyes closed. I wasn't even tired anymore. I think I was laying there for probably 30 minutes before I decided to get up and do something else. \nI checked online to see if I could find anything about losing periods of time and not being able to sleep, it was exactly what I thought. I had a very rare form of SuperCancerDoubleAids. \n \nBut not really. I don't know what I expected to find online, but you can never type in symptoms of anything without it telling you have some form of terminal *something.* \n \nI turned on the tv and sat there for a couple of hours before I got bored and called Kyle. \n \n\"Wanna come hang?\" \n\"Yeah man, I'll walk over now.\" \nKyle lived right across the street from me. He always had, so we ended up at each other's houses more often than not. \n \nWhen he came into my room, he looked at me with this kind of half-smirk. \n\"Uh, have you been smoking, bud?\" He started to laugh. \n\"No. Why?\" \nHe got closer and looked at me. \n\"You looked stoned as fuck, Matt!\" \n\"No, Kyle. I'm not stoned. I just haven't been sleeping very well.\" \n\"Maybe you should try and sleep. You really don't look too great.\" \n \nGreat. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. \nGreat. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great\nGreat. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. \nGreat. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great\nGreat. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. \nGreat. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. \nGreat. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. \nGreat. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great\nGreat. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. \nGreat. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great\nGreat. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. \nGreat. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. Great. \n \nThat same word just kept echoing in my head. I wasn't in my body. I felt like I was outside my body in some sort of weird outline. I felt myself focusing on all of my senses individually, but simultaneously. There's no way I could explain it that could be comprehended, but it was like I was experiencing everything at the same time. It felt right. \n \n\"MATT!\" \nI looked over at Kyle. He was standing at the door. \n\"Dude, I'm going home. I'll see you tomorrow.\"\n\"Oh you're leaving already?\" \n\"Already? I've been here since 2 o'clock! I need to get some sleep. You do too. Let's play some more tomorrow!\" \nI looked down and saw a video game controller in my hands. The clock on the wall said it was midnight. \n\"Yeah, definitely.\" \n \nI spent all night trying to figure out what happened. And how to make it happen again. \n \nI tried listening to some different types of music to help me concentrate. Before I knew it, it was 7 in the morning. It took me a minute to realize that I had done it again. It was different this time. It felt almost the same, but this time, I could feel every second pass. I could feel every millisecond pass by. I could hear hundreds of ticks in between each pass of the secondhand on the clock. It was like the opposite of dreaming. Instead of my imagination running wild, it was like my imagination disappeared, and I focused on everything that was real. \n \nMy mom came into my room. I heard her scream, but I couldn't move. All I could do was focus on the time passing by. I heard her screaming on the phone. I think she called the police. I could hear her crying. \n \n \n \n \n \n \n \nI died. Well, I didn't die. Everyone thought I died. They blamed it on sleep deprivation or a heart attack or something. I don't know. But I wasn't dead. I'm still alive, I think. Or maybe I really am dead. Either way, I'm 6 feet underground, left alone to my thoughts forever, and I still can't sleep. ",
"\"I am not kidding, Jean.\"\n\nProfessor Jean Dormire squinted concernedly at Riam Drom. Drom had never called him by his first name before. Then again, Jean hadn't seen his former student in over a decade. The perky Irish kid that had studied under him long ago was nowhere in this calm and collected man sitting before him. \n\n\"Riam, what you are saying is- it's simply unfeasible. I mean-\"\n\n\"It is not. I have evidence.\"\n\nThe wind of confidence with which Riam made his claim unnerved Jean even more so than he already was. The home Professor Dormire had stepped into had made him uncomfortable from first sights. The walls were void of decor, the floors looked as if they hadn't been swept in the decade he hadn't seen him, and video cameras peered at him from the ceilings. Jean Dormire worried for his former student, and himself.\n\n\"Riam- you made these same claims years ago. What has changed between then and now?\"\n\nRiam stood up and stared down at Jean. The professor was somewhat unsure if Riam had blinked during their short time together. \n\n\"Please come with me, Jean.\"\n\nJean slowly rose from his seat on the chair. \n\n\"I will be very upfront with you as I always have, Riam. I am being made to think you are not in a good place.\"\n\nRiam blinked at Jean, and smiled. \n\n\"I am sorry, Jean. Rest assured you are completely safe from harm. We are going to my server room in the back where I have records of my findings. You may leave if you would like, though, and I can send them to you digitally. I thought I could do you the respect of showing you first, here in person, as I gained my foundation from you. Would you like to see what you have helped me build?\"\n\nJean's jaw hung slightly loose. He simply nodded.\n\nThe server room seemed like the only actively used room in the house. Riam sat at a rolling black business chair. In front of him, several large monitors rounded out on a large office desk. Jean observed behind the desk and looked at the massive data storage units lined along the walls. \n\n\"What on earth have you been doing, Riam?\"\n\n\"Research. Human trial.\"\n\nTo their left, a video grid system flashed on to a large monitor. Each small frame showed the rooms of Riam's home, including the surveillance room they were in. Jean studied himself on screen for a moment before turning to Riam. \n\n\"You've been surveying yourself? The effects of sleep deprivation?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"How long have you been at it?\"\n\n\"Seven years.\"\n\nJean's jaw dropped.\n\n\"You've been researching this wild theory for *seven years*, Riam?\"\n\n\"Ten years, Jean. I have been *awake* for the last seven.\"\n\n\n\n",
"\"Like breathing, sleep is a fundamental human requirement. It has even been said that one could survive for three times as long without food as one could without sleep. Indeed, one of the better known experiments on this subject, found that depriving rats entirely of sleep resulted in their death, or near-dying state, within 11-32 days (Everson et al. 1989).\"\n\n\nIt had been 11 days since Abigail had last slept. Her body felt heavy, her body felt exhausted, her body felt like it was about to give in to the pressure. But she had to stay awake, for she knew somewhat that no body else did; the human body was trying to evolve, trying to change, and sleeping was holding the human race back. She was unsure of what the next level was going to be, but she knew that whenever they went to sleep, it would reset them back to zero. When she had first brought her experiment to her parents, they had turned down her attempts, even forcing her to see a doctor to try and talk her out of it. Abigail sat through the appointments, she put up with the constant hounding from friends and family, but she knew what she had to do. She had to transcend above the current state of evolution that humanity had plateaued upon. Using the excuse of going away to her “friends house”, Abigail was covered by her best friend, allowing her to test her theory out. \n\nAbigail had hid out in the basement of her friend’s house, supplies of food being delivered to her to keep her sustained nutritionally. The first three nights were easy, she’d pulled all-nighters before when she was in university. As the fourth day came around though, the lightheadedness began to get to her, and she had begun to hallucinate. On the 6th day, Abigail had a lovely conversation with herself, not in a mirror but literally right there with herself. She discussed her fears, and her dreams, why she was truly afraid of dying, and what about the thought of clowns gave her the “heebee-jeebees.” Talking to her unconscious self aided her in finding out more about her intentions than she had ever known. It was like a lucid dream, but she was awake, she knew she was still awake. On the ninth day, her parents had come to have a conversation, not her real parents but her ghost parents. They were discussing the prospects of sleep, but Abigail knew that it was just her subconscious telling her to sleep. On the 11th day, her subconsciousness had given up the prospect of telling her to sleep, but her body was still tired. But also 11 days into her test, something changed.\n\nAt first she thought it a hallucination. Her best friend had brought her food, the food itself looked fantastic to her tired and hurting body, but her friend looked different. She couldn’t help but stare.\n“Abigail? Are you alright?” Jess inquired with a worried tone.\n“Jess, you look, glowing.” Abigail commented on the pure light she saw emanating from her friend.\nJess blushed, “Thank you Abs. Will has come by, I wanted to look nice for him.”\n“No Jess, you’re actually glowing!” Abi’s eyes were widening with fear.\n“Abs, I think it’s been enough time. You need to sleep, please come up and rest.”\nThe prospect of giving up now, and going upstairs made her look up. 4 outlines of emanating light shone through the floorboards, pulsating. 3 of them a glowing white like Jess, and then one a dark red, this one made Abi feel uncomfortable.\n“Jess, where is Will?”\n“He’s upstairs, in the lounge? Why?”\nWill was the red outline, “We need to leave.”\n“Okay?” Jess’s voice was filled with confusion.\nAbigail ran upstairs and made a straight line for the front door, Jess following closely.\n\nAs she made it outside, 3 things happened. The first; the overwhelming sunlight blinded her in the beginning, and it took a few moments for her to adjust to the light. The second; once the sunlight faded, it was replaced by the other lights emanating from literally every human being around her. Their lights, all different colours, different intensities. It was like a migraine, hurting her head with an intensity almost indescribable.\nFinally; she collapsed, her body fell to the floor. The pressure of everything, her transcendence had occurred, but her body was not ready for it yet. Her ears rang, or was it Jess screaming? But either way, Abigail dropped. She didn’t wake again.\n",
"Ok so hear my out on this one. Jimmy will totally back me up. He has to. So we were just hanging out you know. We came across this fuckin crazy story on the internet. It’s called the Russian Sleep Experiment, and I don’t remember all the specifics, but the Russians during WWII decided to test these POWs. You know, do experiments and shit. So they forced them to stay awake for something like a week straight. They’d play like a constant buzz or drug them or something to keep them awake. And so after a while a lot of crazy shit went down. People started acting I guess how you’d expect them to. Just being completely irrational.\n\n I mean it wasn’t the most fucked up thing I’ve ever encountered. Have you read about the Rape of Nankin? They fuckin used babies as target practice. Or the Armenian genocide? They just round up entire groups of people and slaughter them. This Russian Sleep Experiment story ended really shitty though. The ‘people’ after being awake all this time start to go I guess too insane, so Russian soldiers intervene. And in his last moments, the remaining dude spells out some human nature bullshit. You know, the whole demons within us all, we are all capable of evils trope. Too bad, it was pretty crazy until that point.\n\nSomething happened though. I just couldn’t get the whole idea out of my head. I mean obviously there are scientific reasons to sleep. Recharging your brain or whatever. I remember reading about this guy who tried to solo hot air balloon around the world. He tried to stay awake too long and his body just shut itself down at some point. Next thing you know he’s fucking awake over the arctic or something. I don’t remember where, but it was somewhere cold. So you gotta sleep. Seems natural. By why is it so hard to bypass. I mean, is it really that goddamn vital?\n\nYou know when you and your buddy get the same idea at the same time and don’t even need to say it out loud? So I looked at Jimmy, and he just nodded his head. Of course we were gonna fuckin try it. Obviously the story was fake. Which actually just piqued our interest more. What actually happens? We rock paper scissored for roles. That son of a bitch got tester, so I was left to be the guinea pig, I was staying awake.\n\nAt first it was easy as shit. Caffeine, bright lights. We just kinda did what we normally do. It wasn’t til about 20 hours til it got pretty hard. He’d just like slap me, or use a fog horn or something if I started to dose. So you know that episode of Futurama where Fry drinks the 100 cups of coffee and enters that trance or something like it. I probably got close to that. I dunno how much caffeine I drank, but I’m surprised I didn’t have a heart attack on that first day.Day two sucked even more. The day wasn’t so bad. We just avoided being inside. I mean, we even fuckin avoided sitting in the shade. Fog horn, slap, coffee. The routine was almost monotonous\n\nSo day three is where we started to have differentiations in our story. According to him, I just started to babble. I mean ask him if you think I’m such a goddamn liar. I’m pretty sure it’s a verifiable fact that the over tired brain is pretty similar to a drunk brain. I was driving through Utah, past the Bonneville Salt Flats. And they had these ‘don’t drive drowsy’ signs. I suppose you can just attribute that to the fact Mormons don’t drink. But still, lack of sleep is a hazard.\n\nThe weird thing though is that I still felt fully articulate. I mean right? When you get super hammered and your sober friend is being a super dick, playing the whole high and mighty card cause he’d so never get this sloppy drunk. But I mean I felt fine. It was fuckin Jimmy that seemed like the dumbass. He just moved so slow, and took forever to respond to every goddamn thing I said. Hell, I wasn’t even tired anymore. It was actually super serene. We camped that fourth night and the stars just seemed so close. \n\nYou ever feel that? Like the universe is all of a sudden an imaginable size? So you know how in the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, or is it the second book? I forget. But the death penalty is to sit this guy in a chamber and reveal the entire scope of the universe to them. And they die. You know, kinda like how the human mind can’t interpret sizes so large. Fuck, I mean it’s even hard to imagine a trillion dollars in real terms. You know? \n\nBut like, that night, it just seemed so manageable. I swear to god. It wasn’t an LSD trip. I’m not gonna ‘Doors of Perception’ all of a sudden and fuckin say I understand the innate simplicities of the universe. It’s hard to explain. Everything seemed just as big. Just as unreasonable. Just as vast and out of control. But comprehendible. Right?\n\nAnyways. I must’ve dosed off at that point. Goddamn Jimmy. The fog horn exists for a reason. \n"
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[WP] You work for the mafia. Your job is cleaning up crime scenes before they're found. You discover your best friend from childhood is an assassin that you've been cleaning up after for years.
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"\"Be there in 20\" I spoke into the burner. \n\nI hung up, then picked up the cannoli, making it disappear with a large bite. I left the plate and stood up, wiped my hands on my shirt. The closet had my tyveks, size XXL. I started this career in a medium, but as the years went on, I began looking like a mortadella as the suits tightened. I grabbed my shoes by the tongues and knotted the spaghetti laces twice. Stepping into the suit I wondered about the job. Would it be The Guy again? It was a Sunday night, and he was a weekend warrior, most Sunday's I cleaned up after him. I zipped up, the collar tightening and squeezing my neck out like the cheese in a home made braciole, the kind your mum used to make. I walked out to the garage, to where my van was parked, the whole time thinking about The Guy. I climbed into my van, opened the garage door, and started the engine. The drive was typical, but I thought of The Guy. I knew his jobs from the others. He always left a calling card, which I thought weird. Knowing that he was gunna have a cleaner come kinda defeats the purpose of leaving a signature, right? Maybe it's an impulse, a lot of our guys who do the wet work are a bit off, but this was like nothin' I'd seen before. That I can remember. Not quite right in the noodle is all. Probably just a couple tomatoes shy of a gravy. \n\nI parked behind the restaurant, it was a good old Italian place, great big meatballs. It was run by one of our associates, so I had a nice easy night ahead of me, no time restraint. Sometimes, when I'm on a job that is a rush, I sweat up a goddamn kiddie pool into my tyvek, squishing around in my water balooties as I call 'em. I got out, went to the back of the van and grabbed my prep bag. The back door to the place was unlocked. I was overwhelmed with the scent of cordite as I walked in. Cordite and olive oil. Cordite and olive oil with a hint of basil. I walked through the kitchen and into the dining room. Then I saw the body and it all came rushing back to me, like my childhood memories do when I bite into a good tiramisu. I knew who The Guy was. How could I have forgotten this whole time? I couldn't place his calling card for all these years until this very moment, when he leaves his signature as large as he did this time, it can't be just an impulse. He was always leaving them for me. Even as a kid he was obsessed with it, how did I ever forget him! On the ceiling, above the anonymous body, drawn in blood was the one thing I forgot about my friend Tony. Over all these years, I never picked up the signs, never put the two together. I had alway wondered what could have been between us, if we had grown up in another time, different families, anyone more accepting of what we had. I still dreamed of him occasionally. It was in front of my eyes the whole time! All it took was this, this one thing, a final attempt at communication. Recognition artfully on the ceiling. I will always remember now: Dickbutt. ",
"*\"Nice & early.\"*\n\nThat voice- it was familiar. The face looked the same, save for a scar on the far left of his cheek. My jaw dropped a bit; not because he was right- I was early, but that's only because I'm good at what I do. It was him, it was all too similar to him.\n\n\"Uh, Johnny- that you?\"\n\nThe man I suspected to be the aforementioned 'Johnny' stopped and turned his full attention to me. The icy blues narrowed at me- I recognized those. \n\n\"Haven't heard that name in years.\" \n\nOf course he didn't recognize me. The years had granted me with the perks of becoming one-hundred pounds heavier and one-hundred percent balder. Johnny stepped towards me, leaving a bloody trail behind him. \n\n\"Johnny- holy shit. Uh, it's me, Gordon. Well, Gordie, to you I guess.\"\n\nHis icy blues eased at me, not so piercing. A grin crept upon thin lips.\n\n---\n\n\"It kind of makes sense. Shieldin' this shit from kids and all. I mean, it makes sense that we would both find the same line of work, you know.\"\n\nJohnny went by Carson now. Carson John Benetti, friend from middle school, sat across form me in the diner's shoddily upholstered booth. His was the same story as mine- family worked for the 'family' and he followed in to the work. His father just so happened to be a problem solver whereas my father's trade was collateral clean-up. He and I had known one another throughout middle school, and lost touch after we had were assigned to different high schools.\n\n\"That's just- wow. It's crazy.\"\n\n\"I know right?\"\n\nHe munched on the bacon and eggs in front of him with the same hand he had wiped blood off of not an hour ago. My fork only seemed to toss gravy around the biscuits. Johnny- er, Carson- seemed so carefree with himself. His voice had an aloofness to it that had long been absent from my own. This line of 'work' was a way of life, and some men, myself included, carried the sins with them. \n\n\"So, you...?\"\n\nFor some reason I expected him to catch on with what I was asking. Turns out he didn't turn out very bright.\n\n\"So... I... what?\" He was chewing eggs in between the words of his question.\n\n\"You've been the one doing all of that work I come in after all of this time?\" I whispered loudly. Carson grinned humbly and swallowed his mouthful. \n\n\"That's right, bud. I wouldn't ever know it was you, either, if not for today. Usually I'm out by the time you come in, but that one- well she was really pretty, know what I mean?\" \n\nThe killer turned his attention to his food. Carson scooped a greasy mix of eggs and bacon into his hardly outlined mouth. Fluttering manifested in my stomach.\n\n\"Uh, yeah. So, you don't really- ah, well, *mind* this type of work, huh, Johnny?\"\n\nThe icy blues darted from the scrambled breakfast to my. No longer at ease. They pierced again. I saw his bloodied-hand turned eating-hand deliberately ease down, not letting go of the fork it held. Devious thin lips retracted from an easy-going looseness to the strained tightness he saw back at the clean-up site. My stomach turned.\n\n\"No. You, Gordie?\"\n\n\"Well, uh, you know, I- I find it-\"\n\nMy mouth spit out a jumbled mess.\n\n\"I find it- I find it hard to carry.\"\n\nHis hand had already dropped the fork. \n\n\"I think I have to go now, Gordon. It was good to see you again.\"\n\nHe slid out of the booth, throwing a hundred on the table. I was nervous from his sudden departure. Instinctively, I spoke to him as a coworker.\n\n\"See you around?\"\n\nThe icy blues pierced me one last time.\n\n*\"Nice and early.\"*\n"
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[WP] Crime rates in your country became low to non-existent. The government decides that police is no longer necessary.
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"Thousands of citizens opposed the new bill but the president was stubborn. He was threatened to be stripped from power yet he went ahead and removed our guardian angles. \n\nIf we lived in the land of fantasy we would expect an elite team superheroes to protect and serve us. \n\nBut in this reality when the cats are away the mice will play. \n",
"\"People no longer have anything to fear,\" thought Dan, as drove home in disbelief. They were the words of the prime minister, the words which confirmed what Dan feared might happen.\n\nHe had been an officer for the last twenty two years, and was absolutely flabbergasted. When he'd heard in the news that the government were considering getting rid of the police force he assumed it to be hyperbole, an exaggeration on the deepest cuts the government had inflicted via austerity, not something that could actually happen.\n\nTwenty two years of service. He'd made inspector, and over the years he'd been part of a team that had solved hundreds of mysteries, but this still boggled his mind. The entire force, completely cut, because Westminster were now satisfied that crime had reached what they called \"an acceptable low\".\n\nSure, Dan could accept murder rates had gone down. They had been falling for years, and he could tell he had been investigating a lot less murders over the years, but there was still so much that needed doing, that now just wouldn't get done. All that would now not be done. All because some politicians thought crime targets had been met, and wanted to balance some books. \n\nBecause, Dan thought, that was the point of policing. \"To Protect and Serve.\" It was never about catching criminals, it was about keeping the public safe and helping where required. The fact that a lot of that help was crime related was incidental, the whole point of policing was about looking after the needs of the public and ensuring their safety. \n\nTurning onto the motorway Dan sighed. Another tailback. Every week there was always one. He was almost used to it. This stretch of road seemed to be terrible for delays. Bad council planning, whenever there was a rush of traffic it all came down this way due to a lack of other options. Dan knew this, and regretted coming this way\n\n\"People no longer have anything to fear,\" the words the prime minister had said when he announced his plans. Those words rolled in his head again. The very notion was baffling. A land more or less free from crime, that was the notion. But to Dan it didn't seem likely. Even if stats showed otherwise, he'd never felt less busy. There was always something that needed investigating, or someone who needed help.\n\nDan kept driving. His thoughts returned to his career. He was now forty four, too old for the army. But what other options were there. He had planned on policing until he was no longer able to. Sure, he would've probably become a desk officer before he could collect his pension, but the force was all he knew. \n\nDan kept driving, traffic slowed to a crawl. He was making terrible progress, but in a way it was helping. Dan considered further options. He could become private security guard. Just because there was no longer to be a police doesn't mean there's no need for a guard. Alternatively he could probably get an office job somewhere. It wasn't ideal, but he could do it. His training in dealing with people and pulling files out would probably see him well in an office maybe.\n\nAhead of him Dan could see the head of the traffic jam, and could see the cause. A lorry had crashed into a car. Wreckage had gone everywhere, spilling across all three lanes, and traffic was single file passing on the hard shoulder. Dan knew these situations, he had worked several. An officer or two would need to come down and sort the traffic out, setting up cones for better movement, and diverting traffic to avoid sending it this way. \n\nThen he remembered. This wouldn't be happening here. There was no-one to come and deal with traffic accidents anymore. Dan drove past, he could see the bodies of two people. in a silver hatchback. He didn't need to look long, he could already tell they were dead. The prime ministers words echoed once more. \"People no longer have anything to fear.\""
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E.G. If you travel one day, that day is subtracted from the end of your life. If you go a month, you're going to live a month less, etc.
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[WP] Time travel is possible, but for every day you choose to travel back or forwards, you give it up from the end of your natural lifespan.
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"I was cursed with a blessing.\n\nMy father sat me down when I turned 18.\n\n\"Whenever a man of our ancestry becomes a full-fledged adult, we reveal the family secret. Ours is a family that does not enter heaven.\"\n\nOur family was special. He explained the logistics of time travel, simply stating the men of our bloodline could travel forwards and back, but the distance traveled would shorten our lifespans. He had squandered his power for pleasure. We were denied entrance into Heaven because we had gained the power at the cost of our future family's souls. \n\n\"You're insane, right?\"\n\n\"Try it.\"\n\nI took a deep breath and held it. I willed myself before the start of the conversation. \n\nEverything went black.\n\n\"... Whenever a man of our ancestry becomes a full-\"\n\n\"Got it, dad.\"\n\nHe smiled. \"Excellent.\"\n\nI realized the best use of my power was stock trading. The ability to rewind minutes, even seconds at a time gave me an omnipotent view into the stock market.\n\nKeeping track of my lifespan lost, I had lost less than half a year.\n\nMoney, women, fame came easily when I made millions daily. \n\nI was investigated regularly. The SEC couldn't figure out how I did it. My assets were frozen regularly, I had nothing to hide. \n\nExcept that I could time travel.\n\nI retired at the age of 21, a billionaire. \n\nIt bored me, watching numbers grow was a waste of my talent.\n\nI spend my time funding nations out of poverty, helping where I can anonymously. I go back to trading when I donate a sizable amount. \n\nBecause all the money in the world can't get me into heaven. \n\nI would have to save the world to save myself. "
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[WP]Start or end with “The saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies.”
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"We sat across from each other, smiles traced on our faces, bodies ready to begin. A glint of giddy excitement flashed across her eyes and she licked her lips provocatively. We were both ready. I removed the small container from my pocket and ripped it open, the smell wafted across the room and imposed itself in our nostrils. She breathed a deep sigh of relief, all the build up and it was finally happening. Ecstasy. \n\n\nWe started gently at first. Both of us had partaken in this before, but never like this no, we never shared this experience together. A spark erupted before us almost instantaneously. I lowered my head and the now roaring flame followed suit. A light bubbling, perhaps gurgling, sound echoed through the room. Silence. And then a giant plume of smoke exploded from between my lips. Oh yeah. I passed her the bong, already buzzing from my first hit. She ripped the bong and blew the smoke out gracefully, first through her nose and then through her mouth. Her eyes hovered on mine and it was immediately clear what the other was thinking. In unison we rang out, \"*ayyyyyy, lmaoooo*\", and cut the silence. We continued in this manner for what seemed like ages. It felt as if we were there together, frozen in time, lost in a haze of beaming smiles and dead-pan laughter for hours; two hours, three hours, maybe even four. It was probably just thirty minutes. After all this time, I pulled her close and we threw on Netflix. Adventure Time. \"*Fuck yeah.*\" I thought. Before we knew it, it was the morning, and it was time for her to drive home. With her wrapped in my arms, I led her slowly to the door, ever so reluctantly. She pressed her lips firmly to mine and promised that she'd be back for a second date. Her car roared to life and I watched her roll down my street, off and away into the heart of the city away from the suburbs. Exhaling deeply, I turned around and reentered my home. Morning joint sitting like an exposed french model, beckoning for me to draw her to my lips. With a smirk, I put the joint to my lips and let it hang as my hand dove into my pockets searching for my lighter. Empty. I retraced the high march that me and her embarked on the previous night. Floor? No. Living room? No. Bedroom? No. I didn't want to believe it. On my couch I sat, head in hands, struggling to grip the reality of the situation. She stole my lighter. I invited her into my home, smoked her out, and held her in my arms. I thought she was different. It's safe to say she wasn't. Nights always unfolded like this. Stabbed in the back by the one I open up to, the one who I trust with my Bic. I never want to believe it but its true: the saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies.",
"The saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies. The thought crossed my mind as I watched her leave. I caught my reflection on the flipped over spoon, my face was stretched out of proportion but I could still see the single tear moving down my face. The hem of her black skirt was the last thing I saw as she walked out of the restaurant.\n\n“I just can’t. Not anymore.” She had said after I presented her with the ring. “It’s not fair to you.”\n\nThe conversation played over in my head automatically. In the moment, while she was talking, I could only hear a high pitched hum, but my mind had recorded everything and was waiting for the right time to replay it. The right time, it seemed, was when the blank stares of the restaurant guests gave way to whispered conversations.\n\n“It’s just that recently you had been acting so distant. I called him for a little support.”\n\nHim, the word stuck out in my mind like a nail that needed to be hammered down. Him.\n\n“We started talking, and - I wanted to tell you Dave I really did, but we just didn’t know how.”\n\nWho was we? I thought\n\n“Gary and I -”\n\nGary, I mouthed to myself. He knew I was going to propose. He was the first one I told.\n\n“Excuse me, sir” I looked up to see the waiter standing behind her seat. He was rubbing his hands together. There was a light shimmer on his forehead. The residue of sweat hastily wiped away. “I was wondering if you would still like to order.” \n\nI tried to smile and shook my head. The waiter nodded and said, “My apologies, sir.”\n\n \n\n“I’m so sorry,” she had said, then she picked up her purse and walked away. That was it. That was the end of it. The love of my life disappeared behind two doors into the night. Into Gary’s arms. I caught a glimpse of myself in the spoon again. The tear that I could barely feel was now slipping down to my chin, I wiped it off and instead caught my reflection in the sharp edge of the steak knife.\n\nI watched as my reflection as sorrow gave way to burning anger. I grabbed my napkin from where it fell on the floor when I went to propose and wrapped the knife in it. I slipped the napkin in my pocket and pulled out my phone. I sent a text message.\n\n“Gary, she said Yes! We’re going to the park to celebrate. Come meet us!” I hit send. \n\nIn the moment that followed I wondered if it was too late. I wondered if she had already called him. I wondered if he would take the bait. Then his response appeared on screen.\n\n“Congrats! I’ll be there in a few.”\n\nI put the phone away and felt the weight of the knife shift in my pocket as a stood up. The thought came to my mind again, “The saddest thing about betrayal is that it never comes from your enemies.”"
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[WP] Everyone has Death's phone number. Anyone can call him and make a request. But, you must fulfill his request.
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"“Bro, I need a favor,” the man asked Death.\n\n“Fine, fine,” Death said on the other end of the line. “But you need to do something for me first. I’ll come drop off what you require in a few minutes.”\n\n“You seriously want me to do that again?” the man asked in disbelief. “How many times is that?”\n\n“Do you want your favor or not?” Death roared.\n\n“Yeah, yeah, alright, see you in a few,” the man said, hanging up the phone.\n\n****\n\nThe man lied on the floor as Death entered his house, bringing the favor he had asked for. Death’s Ultimate Bug Spray. Guaranteed to kill off all bugs on your property.\n\nThe man remained still as Death walked in the room and set the bug spray on the ground. Death eyed him for a few seconds, watching him just lie there, and then Death apparently got bored and walked out.\n\n“How many times is Death going to want me to play dead?” the man pondered to himself once he heard his front door shut. “You’d think he’d get tired of watching us mortals play dead. Go figure.”",
"I had called him before, of course. Everyone had. As soon as any kid found out about it, they immediately called him. Kids were always the gambling type. He was fair, though. You had to give him that: I don’t know anyone who had ever lost anything major, never from their first request. I had heard rumours, naturally. Urban myths, most likely, but they sounded real enough: the kid who wished for the world, only to die in his sleep; the one who wished to be the best soccer player ever, to tear his cruciate ligament the following week. My first request? I was scared: large cheese pizza, with cheese filled crust. The price? Fifteen pounds. Like I said: Death was fair.\n\n“Siri, call Death.”\n\n*Calling Death*\n\nThe phone rang. And rang. It was answered, but there was no answer, only silence. It was always the way. You make your request and then you find out the cost. No negotiating.\n\nI was calling from my hospital bed. Hooked up to an IV, my leg in a cast, all I could hear was her crying: the crying of a childless mother. It was because of me. I had taken the kid from her. I knew what I had to request, no matter what Death demanded of me.\n\n“Give her back her son. Whatever it takes. Give her back her son.”\n\nDeath paused on the other end of the line, weighing up my request to make a fair demand.\n\nSEE YOU TONIGHT.\n",
"1-414-619-8191\n\nHenry Dugan stared at the digits lined up on the display screen of his phone, heart pounding, fingers trembling. Delete.\n\n1-414-619-8191\n\nAgain, his eyes locked upon the number on the screen – Death's number – while his fingers waited for the command to depress the call button. Henry knew that he wanted to make the call, he had thought about this moment for days on end. Still, he was afraid, terrified really, of completing the act. It was Death, after all, that he would talk to. Everyone knew the number, anyone could make a request, but no one knew the price. \n\nBring. The dial tone started and had gone through two cycles before Henry realized that his thumb had started the call without his direct intention, as if responding to a delayed nerve impulse initiated the night before when he had finalized this decision. The dial tone stopped and was replaced by a brief silence as the other end of the line answered.\n\n\"Hello. How may I be of service?\" The voice of Death was unremarkable: a male tenor without the trace a particular accent, and a confident tone that was used when expecting a call or when one spent a lot of time answering the phone.\n\n\"Umm, hi. This is .....? I bet you get asked this a lot, –\"\n\n\"Yes. This is Death. How may I be of service?\"\n\n\"Well, they say I can make a request. I can tell you a name and then that person will die.......\"\n\n\"Indeed. I require a name, or just a general description really. As long as you have a clear understanding of who the person is I'll be able to figure out the rest. And to answer your next question, yes. Once you have provided me with a name I will make a request of you in return. From the time that this call is terminated you will have one week to fulfill my request, and if you succeed I will uphold my half of the agreement. Fail to meet my request before the week is up, and nothing will come of it, except that you will not receive a response should you call this number again. Do you understand the terms Henry?\"\n\n\"Uh, yea. I mean, yes. Yes, I understand the terms. So, I just speak the name then?\"\n\n\"If you wish to condemn any person to their death, then speak their name now.\"\n\nSilence. \n\n\"Ok. Henry Dugan.\" \n\nSilence.\n\n\"Understood. Here is my request of you: drive your car along Cherry Hill Rd – you know the one – between the hours of 3-4pm. You will need to do this only once within the next week to uphold our bargain.\"\n\n\"Really? That's all? Just drive down Cherry Hill, nothing else?\"\n\n\"That is all, provided that you do so between the hours of 3 & 4. And remember, you only have one week. It has been a pleasure talking to you, Henry.\"\n\n\"And a pleasure talking to you,\" Henry replied, but the line had already gone dead.\n\nOf course, he didn't make the drive that day. Or the next. Or even the day after that. It wasn't until three days after his conversation with Death that Henry turned the key in his pre-owned Honda with the intention of driving down Cherry Hill Rd.\n\nDespite running the AC and it being a balmy Spring day, Henry's palms felt sticky with sweat against the steering wheel. It was a Tuesday. Not that this had any bearing on things except to note that the traffic was light as Henry drove 15 minutes across town to the residential neighborhood of Sunset Grove. \n\nCherry Hill Rd was the main throughfair; a multitude of cul-de-sacs and sidestreets branched off from it to create a network of single-family, suburban homes. As Henry pulled onto the road a bright yellow schoolbus exited the neighborhood. The implication was not entirely lost.\n\nHenry grew more and more nervous as he putt-putted (Death had made no mention of his speed) his way down the street. Across the green lawns children played tag, clung to tire swings, and otherwise reveled in the freedom of youth. It was in his effort to intently monitor the whereabouts of every child that Henry found himself glancing to the roadside as his Honda found an unexpected bump.\n\nImmediately Henry slammed on the brakes and jumped from his vehicle. From a nearby yard several children came sprinting, shouting \"Mister! Mister!\"\n\nBefore he had walked around the front of his car to clear his line of sight Henry could hear the pitiful whimpers. \"No, no, no. This isn't what I wanted. Not at all,\" he mumbled. The awful whining continued as Henry spied the source: a black and white mutt strewn to the curb, one of its front legs bent at an impossible angle.\n\n\"Mister! Mister! You should have been driving faster,\" one of the children called. \"This stupid dog's been digging all along our fence and my dad's been trying to bag the sucker for weeks. Let me run inside to fetch the old man, he'll be glad to take care of this once and for all.\" \n\nAnother child spat at the broken creature, \"My mom says you've been tearing up her garden all month. Take that!\"\n\nThroughout all of this Henry watched, stunned. He watched the mutt struggle and wince as it attempted to move with its shattered leg. Everything else faded into the background as he recalled his deal with Death. His half was now complete; Henry Dugan was a dead man walking. Stricken with guilt and acting with the necessity of haste, he opened the passenger door and sustained several nipping bites to secure the dog in his backseat. Without listening to cries of the surrounding children or looking back Henry drove away.\n\nOn the following Tuesday Henry Dugan sat on his couch eating a bowl of popcorn as Daisy licked the salty remains from his fingertips.",
"It's not a number like 666 or anything like that. It's really not even a number that can be shared. It's just known, an unspoken thing. \n\nI looked at my phone with Death's number typed it. I thought over and over, rehearsing what I wanted to say. I wanted my baby brother to be safe and pain free. He is only 7 and has an autoimmune disease. A kid shouldn't be plagued with damaged joints. He cries in pain. I hurts me too. It hurts everyone one in the family. \n\nI want Louy to be safe and pain free. I repeated it over and over in my mind. Safe and pain free, easy enough. \n\nI called up death. The phone rang, the sound pierced my ears and hurt my teeth. The ringing stopped, \"Umm, hello? Mr. Death or maybe Death is a miss. Oh... um well Death?\" \n\nA throbbing noise came from the other side. I knew it was listening. \n\n\"Death. I want to make a request. The request it... Louy is to be safe and pain free from here on out.\" \n\nA untangle voice dusted through the phone, \"So it is. My request is you must tell you parents of this deal once it is done.\" The phone went dead. \n \nThe hairs stood on the back of my neck. It's that easy. \n\nDays went by and Louy was healthier and healthier as time passed. I didn't know when to tell my parents. I wanted to just enjoy Louy's presents. \n\nI went to bed feeling proud, accomplished. I was awoken to the screech of mom and sirens of an ambulance. \n\nI ran out into the hallway. Mom cradling Louy in her arms sat at the top of the stairs. Mom cradled him in her arms, tears pouring down her face. Death stood behind her.\n\n\"Louis, baby, you're okay.\" She choked. I stood there in horror. Why? \n\n\"My sweet baby boy.\" She went on. \n\nMy dad walked up the stair, EMT following behind him. He cried. I have never seen him cried. \n\n\"He'll be okay.\" Dad spoke softly. \n\nDeath looked at me. I knew it was time. \n\nI knot formed in my throat and my eyes watered as I realized. \n\"Mom.\" I said sitting next to her and resting my hand on my brothers head, \"I called Death. Louy is safe. Louy is pain free.\" \n\nMy mom looked up at me in horror. I was a monster to her. I was a messenger of Death.",
"When Death came knocking at the door\n\nHe took my child, just barely four\n\nHe stole all that I did adore\n\nSo I called Death, and did implore\n\n+\n\n*To see my daughter's smile once more*\n\n*To hear her laughter dance and soar*\n\n*To love her as she was before*\n\n*But Death did nothing but ignore;*\n\n+\n\nI begged, I screamed, I sobbed, I swore, \n\n\"I'll be your slave! I'll be your whore!\"\n\nBut Death simply picked up his oar\n\nAnd rowed my daughter to the shore\n\n+\n\n*My body's broken on the floor*\n\n*I have no reason to live for*\n\n*Without her I can live no more*\n\n*So I will join her, evermore.*\n\n\n"
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[WP] You are going down a long road in the middle of night. Every 15 minutes or so you pass by a hitchhiker with one arm raised, asking for a ride, but you decide to ignore them all. After a couple hours of driving, you start to realize that you're passing by the same hitchhiker over and over again.
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"It was much, much too late. \n It had been too late when I pealed out of the house's driveway throwing gravel all over my front yard. Did I know that? Of course. But it's one thing to hear it over the a dying cellphone, and it's another to know it for yourself. \n And so there I was, thundering along a desert highway trying out outrun my thoughts. It was dark, the kind of pitch black you only see in places so far from the rest of the world that cell reception was only dreamed at. Cell service.. I cursed. How could I be so stupid?! They could be calling me at any point and I'd miss it. I'd miss the single most important call of my life because I was stubborn and late. \nI hit the accelerator harder, making the engine roar against the cliffs out over the mesa. The recent rains had made them slick, my tires whined on the asphalt as I screamed around a turn. It was fast, too fast and I careened towards a bluff edge. It was nothing short of a miracle, but I was again in control, missing the edge by inches. \nI should have been sweating, or praying, or something, but I was in too much in a hurry. I drove on into the night. \n Miles or hours later, I'm really sure which, a hitchhiker flashed past my headlights and was gone before I could see him. I started, and cursed loudly to myself and the universe. I shifted gears for effect before rumbling on into the night. \n It hadn't been a quarter hour but I saw another one, and I was slow enough to pick out a baseball cap before I passed on by. Then another, not ten minutes later dirty overalls and the same cap, pulled low over his eyes. \n It started to worry me. I slowed down. \n Ten minutes later there he was. Ten miles more and again like clockwork there he stood, backward thumb beckoning. \nI stopped. The farmer-looking man started to wander over with a slow sort of walk and leaned in the window. \n \"You mind if I ride with you for a bit? It's mighty late, and I'm sort of in a bind. I'll pay your gas wherever you're going if you'll lend me a hand.\" \nSomehow he was in the back seat of the car, and I was driving again, getting away as fast as possible with the man in the back rolling down the window. \n\"Heck of road this is, you know? Not many people come through here anymore, what with the interstate having moved in.\" \nI nodded, and pretended to focus on the road ahead. \n\"\"It's still a short cut though through the desert though, if you're willing to drive like as much of a maniac as you are. I reckon you must be in quite a hurry to cross to the other side . Someone waiting for you there?\" \nI nodded, and pointed to the picture in my visor and answered him\n\"I hope so... I'm going to see her before...\" I coughed awkwardly. \"You know.\" \n He took a pull on a cigarette I hadn't seen him light and blew it into the wind. \n\"Yeah, real shame about that, really.\" \nThe man leaned over and squeezed two coins into my hand as the world went dark. \"You're too late.\" ",
"The party was wild. You know the kind. Beer flowed like water, my skirt and top were missing, and I have no idea whose jacket this is that's preserving my modesty from the steering wheel. Though my Uggs stuck around. I never seem to lose my shoes.\n\nGod, there's a lot of Hitchhikers out tonight. That's seven...or was that eight? Hold on...didn't I pass him already?\n\nDoesn't matter, I'm not picking anyone up in my panties. Thank God I wore them.\n\nThe moon is full, it's peaceful, and I'm not too drunk to hold the road. Without thinking I rummage in the jacket pocket and pull out what I find.\n\nA couple of joints and a lighter. Beautiful.\n\nA few miles of driving and I light up. Maybe that's why I pull over and let the next hitchhiker in. Dark hair, clear skin, perfect teeth. Looks just like the others I passed.\n\nHe smiles at me and we drive off. Then as I take another hit he pulls something from his coat. A book. A Bible.\n\nFuck, one of those types?\n\n\"Do you know God?\" he asks.\n\n\"We're not on speaking terms,\" I answer.\n\nThe drive continues until we hit a fork.\n\n\"Take the right,\" he instructs.\n\nThat'll put me an hour later getting home. Whatever, I'm feeling high enough to fly there if I have to, and I've got gas to spare. What the hell, right it is.\n\nWe're only on the road a few minutes when I feel the tremor and the sky lights up like day. I hazard a look back just to see a huge pillar of smoke and fire erupting.\n\nI would've been in that had I driven left.\n\nI step on the peddle to put some distance between us and the inferno. No clue what started it, don't care either. I'm shaking, but holding it together. I look over to the man that saved my life...and slam on the breaks.\n\nHe's gone. Vanished. Nothing there but a Bible in his seat.\n\nThat was two years ago. I still don't know what caused the explosion, authorities have been baffled. I knew one thing though, that my life was saved that night.\n\nThat's why I'm taking my vows and getting into some good habits.",
" I drove along the clear, straight road, not another car in sight. The radio was blasting out my favourite albums and the heater was on. I sighed, it was bliss. Then I noticed a hitchhiker, with his arm raised. \n\n I decide to ignore him, after all-it still is my wife's birthday, and I can't afford to go on a detour-She'd kill me! It was every fifteen minutes that I noticed a hitchhiker, then-it seemed that I was the only car for miles and they all flocked to me. I just kept driving, ignoring them all.\n\n Suddenly, I started to notice something weird. The hitchhikers were all men, and were all dressed in similar attire. It did seem quite suspicious... After another hour of driving, it dawned on me, I was passing the same hitchhiker, again and again. \n\n When I passed him again, I slowed the car to a halt, rolled down the window and said, Do you need a ride?\" He shook his head and said, \"Come. It important.\" And sped off through the woods. Reluctantly, I grabbed my pocket knife, baseball bat and a torch, and sped off after him, locking the car as I went.\n\n I follow his trail of footsteps imbedded in the mud, until we reached a clearing. He took my hand and said, \"You, take this-\" His paused, struggling over his words. \"This.\" He handed me a silver oval, shining dangerously in the moonlight. \"Uh...Thanks? I guess...\" \n\nI ran away as fast as I could, racing through the underbrush and leaping over rocks. I had barely got twenty feet, when a deep male voice, in a heavy foreign accent, bellowed, \"Him! Get him! He die...!\" \n\nThe last thing I remember was me swaying and crashing to the floor, and the silver oval, slipping out of my hand and get squished into the mud. I whispered in my last breath, \"Anne...\" ",
"*Mods, I am unsure whether or not im allowed to make my own response, but I wanted to share my own take on it. Take it down if needed.*\n\nThe road seemed limitless, it stretched on for miles, not another tail light in sight. Hitchhikers weren't uncommon in these parts, I don't pick them up during night, and especially on such a long drive. I felt sorry to ignore them, but it was better for me to be safe in my own sudan. It wasn't long before I started to notice that there was something eerie about the men who i have been passing by, they all wore the same clothes, walked the same direction, and had the same thumbs up. It didn't take long for the paranoia to set in, it didn't seem like it was going to stop, so I decided to pick up the next man I saw.\n\nI slowed down next to the hitchhiker, he had a backpack on and was wearing a lot of layers of clothes, rolled down my window and asked \"Hey, do you need a ride there fella?\". He took out a blinding flashlight, shone it right to my face and pointed a gun to my head. His voice was deep, unnaturally so he spoke nervously \"Get out of the car.\"\n\nI had my own gun tucked away in the back of my waist, but I knew if I tried anything, he would shoot me right then and there. I didn't have a choice.\n\nI stepped out of my car, careful not to let him see the revolver all snug in my ass crack. He got in my car and drove off, but not before he took my bag and threw it out on to the road. An act of kindness? I don't know. I went over and picked it up, put the straps on my shoulder and started walking, hoping that maybe I can reach the city or a gas station to get some help. God it was dark, and so goddamned cold, I had to take out a couple shirts to add more insulation, no wonder that man was wearing so much layers. Fuck that guy, If I ever find him again, Ill drag him back here so he can finish walking the rest of the 10 miles. \n\nEvery now and then a car passed by, but they all ignored me. I guess this is the karma I get for my ignorance. I kept on walking, arm raised, waiting for one of them to stop. Low and behold, after about a couple hours of walking, this sudan pulls over, the man inside rolls down his window. And in a somewhat familiar voice, he starts to talk... \"Hey, do you need a ride there fella?\"",
"Over and over again I see this soul. \nBut why, is there some reason behind it all? \nHours on this road have taken their toll.\nI can no longer ignore his call. \nAnd thus I cannot ignore myself, my decision. \nI had the time to stop and the courage stay. \nInstead I forsake my mind, my intuition. \nNow he is death haunts me today. \nI passed this man just once in life. \nHad I stopped a moment then, \nI would have ended his strife, \nand he'd be alive again.",
"A pleasant sort of auto-pilot visits me on moonless midnight drives. I tend to lose all sense of self and the sanity that provides...\n\nBasically, I space out. Weird, pretentious thoughts flit in and out of focus of my mind's eye. Some rhyme. See above.\n\nAnyway, that's my excuse. Why I didn't notice the guy sooner. Or, what I assumed to be a guy. I default to a standard white male in my imagination. And because the figure fits, deep-rooted authorial gender bias aside...\n\nI think I'm in denial. At least, avoiding the issue. Namely that some figure, guy or gal or whatever, is haunting me. I've seen The Twilight Zone. I know what this means. Spoilers: It's Death and I've died and I'm as of yet unaware of it.\n\nExcept that doesn't make any sense. Loads of shit happened in that show - why is none of it true if this is? Because it isn't, obviously. Just a spooky coincidence. Like the figure. Sorry, *figures*. There's more than one. Anything else is impossible.\n\nSo to settle myself, *and to prove it*, I'm going to pick up the next hitchhiker I come across. Don't worry. This is not horrible horror movie character logic - I've thought this through! Hear me out:\n\nI'll see the hitchhiker with their hand sticking out. I'll stop. They'll hop in. Because this is not a horror flick, they will not gruesomely murder me and assume my identity. Instead, they'll probably mumble some sort of thanks and we'll set off, making uncomfortable small-talk along the way. Something like 'Haha, I thought *that* was *you*' when we pass by the next guy. Gal. Whatever.\n\nTwo minutes pass. I'm on the lookout. Three. Four. Five... There! I slow down and indicate, then stop. Even in this weird, autonomous state, I refuse to be a shitty driver. That sort of thing's a slippery slope. Best not to even entertain the notion.\n\nAnyway, I snap back to attention as the door opens. The figure gets in. 'Figure' because I still can't tell. It's wearing a bulky black hoodie. My thanks comes in the form of a small polite nod, so obviously, I can't use their voice to tell. They turn and stare ahead. I start up the car. We're off.\n\nUncomfortable conversation does not materialize as planned. I try, but conversation is a two way street and what ends up technically ensuing is a series of awkward remarks from yours truly. Shit like 'Mmm, no moon - they have cycles for that right?' and 'Out of interest, how do you feel about deep-rooted authorial gender bias in modern literature?'. Admittedly, I am no great conversationalist. \n\nNo reaction from the figure whatsoever. No acknowledgement. I throw out 'So, big night huh?' with next to no expectations.\n\n'As opposed to what, a small one?'\n\nWhat. The. Fuck. Sorry. The swear is for emphasis! I'm not exactly sure how to put this, so I'll just lay it all out: I hadn't expected the voice to be sexy.\n\nAnd it was. I turned to the 'gal', girl, young woman, whatever, which I was now sure this was. She hadn't turned, and instead, was still staring ahead. But her 'figure', which I now use not as an identifier, but as a means of description, *was more feminine*. That's the only way I can think to put it. She was more streamlined and sleek than I had previously perceived.\n\nLooking back to the road, I tried to desperately come up with something witty. Clever. Charming. 'Aha, yeah, suppose that was a stupid thing to say'. Again, I am no great conversationalist. \n\n'Stupid, yes. Not the first stupid thing you've done tonight.'\n\nI froze, hands clamped tight around the wheel. Previously, I WTFed in surprise. Now in fear - because this was a different voice. A man's. Cold and clinical. Chewing out the vowels. Less Scarlett Johansson and more Alan Rickman.\n\nIt was staring at me, I could see out of the corner of my eye. It felt bigger now. Burlier. Doubtless it was. And I still couldn't see the face...\n\nAbsolutely terrified, my mind still managed to drift away from the present moment. I was in that weird state after all. Idly, I wondered, the thought rolling around and about my head, how long was it since I had picked up this hitchhiker? Only fourteen minutes right? Surely. So in a minute, I'd pass by another, and I'd see that they weren't repeating, and I'd laugh and so would my passenger, who'd add 'What'd you think of my Alan Rickman impersonation?' in that sexy Scarlett Johansson-like voice, and I'd repeat my laugh and be happy. Right? I told myself this over and over, as if it somehow made even a shred of sense.\n\n'Look at me' came a third voice, neither man or woman. I turned and did as it drew back the hoodie and revealed to me what lay underneath."
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[WP]: People are inexplicably dying in the most random, horrible and unpredictable ways. Spontaneous combustion, drowning in teacups, suddenly vomiting masses of beetles. You, alone, know the reason, and will take the knowledge to the grave.
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"Something similar was already written, it's [one of the top posts](http://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/u7zc2/the_life_in_the_machine/) on /r/nosleep. \n\n>Being a programmer, one of my dreams has always been to create an original video game, something that nobody in the industry has done before.\nAfter seeing Spore, I became intrigued. Here was an attempt at putting people in control over a universe. After looking at what made videogames popular, I realized the main aspect was control.\nPeople in their daily lives have no control over their environment. They are told what to do, where to go, and how to live. Their jobs consist of standing or sitting somewhere until it's 5 PM and they're allowed to head back home. It's no mystery they're unhappy.\nFor many people videogames are an escape to a world where they are in control, or live exciting fake lives filled with adventure. The aspect of control is found in strategy games, the adventure in role playing games generally.\nI looked at games like the Sims, and noticed what made them so popular is not just the illusion of control, but the degree of control. You have complete control over people's lives.\nBefore the Sims, there was Sim Earth. A game in which you do not control individual people, but an entire Earth! I came to the conclusion that I had to develop a game similar to Spore, in which the player subtly \"guides\" evolution. What caused Spore to be such a failure is the lack of realistic control people had. It hardly resembled evolution.\nTo do this, I began by generating a physics system. I know little of physics but decided to study it, and try to create a simplified version in which certain particles can interact, in specific manners. When it comes down to it, physics is simply complex mathematics.\nI simulated energy, and matter, and created a simple system, with a sun emitting energy, circled by a planet catching said energy.\nI decided to create simple basic cells from scratch, that were \"hardcoded\" so to speak in the system I was designing. They lived of off the energy emitted by my sun, and had a \"genetic\" code that coded for the substances produced by the cells. I guess you could call them my eukaryotes.\nMy world within a few minutes would always fill with these cells, after which they would mutate, and the most efficient cell in converting energy from the sun into useful substances for division would survive. It was very boring, but it worked I guess.\nI decided to expand the physics system, and force the cells to create waste products, that were toxic and would kill them. I noticed that some cells responded to this by producing less waste. Others responded by producing something to emit the waste. Yet others developed chemicals to clean up the waste products.\nHowever, I noticed something fascinating. Running the simulation for a few centuries (a few minutes in real life), created cells that made massive amounts of specific waste products on purpose. I noticed that other cells died as a result of this, to which the other cells responded by usurping the building blocks they had created from energy. The first predators were born.\nWith the first predators, diversity in this little world rapidly increased. Some grew a response to flee when they encountered these toxins. Others grew resistance to them. The ones that grew resistance would eventually grow to utilize the toxins products.\nEventually I noticed something interesting. The cells that escaped from the toxin grouped up with the cells that utilized the toxins. They stayed close together, and helped each other. Eventually these type of cells would attach to one another. They formed a weird symbiosis, where the cell that would normally flee, would now move towards places where the toxins are, and the other cell would consume the toxins and provide the \"mover\" with some of the energy.\nWithout going into too much detail, I became very excited, and decided to let this simulation run during the morning (I had stayed up until 5 AM), while I went to bed. When I woke up at around 11, I noticed the world I had created had changed, and was barely recognizable.\nMassive plant-like structures grew in this world, consumed by other organism that ate these plants. However, looking at the log, I noticed the world hadn't changed much in the past two hours or so. I had reached another \"stasis point\", where the simplicity of my simulation prevented more complex life from evolving.\nI expanded the system, by breaking up \"energy\" into different types, with different wavelengths that were absorbed to different degrees by different molecules. I implemented vibrations in the air, created an improved simulation of weight, and made some more minor tweaks.\nThis caused the simulation to run slower of course, but it was worth the sacrifice. I stayed around the whole day watching the simulation in excitement, and playing with it, as it was incredibly addicting. Complex organisms evolved, that cooperated. Plants that depended on each other, or attracted predators that ate the horrible looking creatures that ate from them.\nI had fun, and noticed that some creatures evolved \"warning calls\". This means that if they noticed a predator, they would issue a sound, and all others of their kind would flee into holes they had dug in the earth. Others evolved \"mating calls\".\nI decided to have some fun. I made a dump tool, allowing me to dump specific organisms on the Earth, and wrote my name with it. I created 10 \"meteorites\", and dumped them on a piece of land to create an island, because I wanted to see whether the animals stuck on both sides would evolve in different directions. I made a smiley-island with volcanic eruptions.\nBy that time I realized I had stayed up until 5 AM again, as I heard the birds outside. I felt tired again, and woke up at 1 PM or so. When I looked at my simulation again, I felt a sense of shock.\nDifferent groups of animals of one species had made statues with stones. Some in the form of a smiley. Some in the form of my name. I didn't know why they were doing this, or how. What I did notice is that they would attack each other from time to time.\nI didn't know what to do with it, but I concluded that these organisms must have somehow noticed that the smiley and the name I had written were \"special\". The fighting disturbed me, and so I decided to create a massive mountain ridge through volcanic eruptions to separate the two groups.\nBy this time, changes were happening fast, compared to earlier. While I had to spend a night sleeping to see tribes evolve in my simulation, while I was getting something to eat or take I bathroom break, I would notice the tribesmen wearing different styles of clothing, or having changed their type of dwelling.\nTheir numbers were also continually increasing. At some point, I noticed the creatures began making their own symbols on the ground, and no longer just copying mine. Most of the symbols seemed random and unintelligible to me, but one stood out.\nThe organisms had created a symbol that resembled them. A small circle, with a square beneath it. Within the square, a dot could be found in the center. This was meant to symbolize the visual organs of the creature, as the creature had two visual organs, one in the front of it's body, and one in the back. In the square, other sensory and reproductive organs were symbolized.\nNext to the circle on top of the square could be seen something resembling a drawing of a fork. Two of these forks had been painted in opposite direction. And next to that the smiley face could be seen.\nI realized something. They were not communicating towards each other. They were trying to communicate to something \"out there\". My meddling in their landscape had somehow made them realize that something powerful was out there, capable of changing their world.\nI wondered, whether symbols like Stonehenge and the Pyramids in my own world, could be signs of primitive people trying to do the same thing. Begging their creator or overseer to initiate contact with them. However, one thing was undeniable by now. These creatures realized there is something out there.\nI wondered long. Did I have a responsibility to initiate contact with something that isn't real? Or are these creatures real in a different way? Can something be real, merely by being capable of having a concept of itself? And even if they are real, does that mean they will be better off with me initiating contact with them? Should I change my simulation, to ensure them permanent happiness? And is it even possible for me to do such a thing?\nI did not want to confirm my existence to them, but I did want to be able to communicate with them. I decided to program a \"prophet\". An organism that looks like them, and can not be proven by them to be different from themselves, and is fully controlled by me.\nI let it be born into a powerful position, as the son of a leader. I decided to lead by example, and seek to teach these creatures English, so I could communicate with them. As prophet, I instructed them that English was the language we could use to communicate with the \"greater one\". They would have no way to be sure if it was true or not.\nI hadn't made up my mind yet about whether I would reveal myself or not. But I did want to be capable of understanding what they wanted to tell me. In a few generations. They all spoke English.\nAnd rapidly, signs began emerging on the ground in English.\n\"GUIDE US\" \"SHOW YOUR GREATNESS\" \"HELP US\"\nAnd, during times of disease or hunger or general misery:\n\"GIVE US FOOD\" \"SHOW US A MIRACLE\" \"END OUR SUFFERING\"\n",
"I chewed on my bagel carefully, taking calculated, massive bites and washing it down with chocolate milk. Next to me, the gentleman sitting by himself at the bar suddenly started turning grey. I ducked, pretending to pick something up off the ground, as the man's head popped like a balloon.\n\nThe patrons in the bar shouted and wailed as his body slumped over, the coffee he had been drinking flecked with brain matter. I shrugged and sidled out of the booth. The emergency services would be here shortly.\n\nI rode the subway to work, so I sauntered from the pub to the Underground and hopped the turnstile. Nobody noticed me; they were all too busy ogling the hobo currently turning blue on the enormous black disembodied penises wriggling out of his mouth. \n\nIt was nice riding on the train, with the exception of the grandmother and toddler who abruptly developed spina bifida of most of their organs - the bubble of which then popped, leaving viscera splattered along the train car. Even I had to gag at that one. It reminded me of the haggis I'd eaten for dinner.\n\nI almost tripped on my way out of the train over a slowly melting blob of flesh that used to be a Wall Street broker. My phone flew out of my hand, but I snatched it out of the air in a feat of physical dexterity that I knew I'd never be able to replicate.\n\nThere was a message for me on Tinder.\n\nIt read \"So, what do you think of these ones?\"\n\nI sent back, \"Look, I'm not interested in this kind of thing. Just tell me a bit about yourself and stop showboating.\"\n\nI'd created the Tinder profile as a joke, and filled it with all kinds of horrifying falsehoods about myself.\n\nWho knew it would attract the attention of Death himself?"
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[WP] Super villains are always portrayed in their most villainous times, attacking cities, planets, or super heroes, which only make up a very small portion of their lives. You're a super villain. During a normal day of life.
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"Dammit.\n\nDammit.\n\nDammit.\n\nWhy the hell did I take this route again? I know from past experience that the Don Marco Expressway is always jammed going westbound on a weekday at 8:00AM.\n\nDammit.\n\nIf it wasn't for that good for nothing Arachnid-Man, I wouldn't be sitting in this damned traffic, to make it to a damned job interview.\n\nIt was a simple job. The local M-Mart ships their daily cash by using a third party security firm. I simply had to infiltrate the M-Mart as an employee. Wait for the security jerk to get the cash out of their vault. Then jump the jerk, take the dolly of cash, and get the hell out of there. But nOOOooooo. Arachnid-Man just *happen* to be at the *same* M-Mart for who knows what reason. He kicks my butt. Takes the money back to the security jerk's armored vehicle. And I get taken by the cops. Well, good thing I got \"friends in high places\" as they say, or wait it should be a \"friend\" in high places, note the singular friend! Anyway that friend bales me out, on the condition that I get a real job.\n\nDammit.\n\nI hate real jobs. They're boring, the atmosphere is usually lousy, due to the poor unfortunate saps that end up becoming \"lifers\" in their dead-end positions with the company, AND the bosses at these \"real jobs\" treat you like a tool... most of the time... in my case....\n\n\"HEY BUDDY, why the hell didja go and cut me off for! I'm trying to tell a damn story here! Yeah! I'm talking to you!\" I just screamed at this guy who cut me off while sounding off my horn. Sure the light was green, but I was mid-sentence and I did not want to multi task and tell a story while driving a 60 kilogram projectile that has the potential of speeds upwards of 160km/hour.\n\nDammit.\n\nThis city has the most **rude** drivers! Wait you live here right? Do you drive? You do, do you? Well I'm sure you're just as a rude as the rest of these a-holes.\n\nAnyway, as I was saying, my friend in high places bales me out on the condition that I get a real job. So now I'm on my way to the job interview and I'm getting *real* nervous. We're pulling up at the place now.\n\nAh, the local M-Mart. I really love this place. I think I'll fit in real nice in this place. So you coming in with me or are you going to stay in the car? Strong silent type huh? Alright well I'll get you a soda while I'm in there, just hold tight.\n\nNow alright. I've got to find the manager in charge of the interview, then alls I gots to do is woo the hell out of said manager. Easy peasy lemon squeezy.\n\n\"Well hello there beautiful, are you the manager of this fine establishment?\" I ask the lady like the cool guy that I am. She stares at me puzzled. Hesitantly she replies.\n\n\"No I'm not. The manager is in her office. Why do you ask?\" this fine pair of legs asks. \"Hey I'm not a 'fine pair of legs' you pervert!\" she angrily snipes.\n\n\"Whoa there lady, you heard that? Ah don't sweat it, it was a compliment. Don't worry I have a job interview. I've been here before, I know where the manager's office is. I just haven't actually met her. I'll be in and out of this joint in a jiff.\" I comfort her. I walk away, as she mutters something under her breath. I don't pay much attention, except for the fact that I really want to know what she said. But I can't go ask her. I got to get this interview over with.\n\nI make my way to the manager's office. I knock on the door.\n\n\"Come in.\" she calls.\n\nI open the door and walk in.\n\n\"Hello, I'm here for the job interview for the accounting department. Nice to meet you, my name is Made Milson.\" I walk up and shake her hand. \nI really hope she can't hear me describing what I'm doing right now, or else my chances here are donezo.\n\n\"Nice to meet you. You can call me Ali\" she introduces herself. Phew, I guess she couldn't hear my narrative.\n\"So Mr. Milson, you want to apply for the position in the accounting department. You can have the job. You see your friend, Mr. Milson Senior, put in a good word for you. He says you're really good with handling money. So I have arranged for the team lead in accounting to give you a crash course today. Tomorrow, you can officially start. Welcome to M-Mart, Mr. Milson, do you accept the job offer?\"\n\nSo.. yea. First of all this chick has quite a mouth on her. For one thing I did not want you finding out that my \"friend\" in high places, was my dad. That is soooooo uncool. Secondly, koodos to my dad. I mean, for him to be able to sell me as a hard working employee that is good with handling money is a feat of its own. He should run for president.\n\n\"Yes of course Ali. And please call me Made. That's my name after all.\" Dammit dad. What a lame name to call your son. Every damn time I meet someone, I have to tell them my lame name.\n\"I'll head over to the accounting department right away.\"\n\nI leave the manager's office, and head straight to the accounting department. I meet the team lead, and he lets me into the locked offices of the accounting department. I see the vault. He gives me the crash course of the day to day operations. Then he tells me that today is a good day to be hired. I can learn how to handle the cash hand off to the security firm. He opens the vault using the code, and instantly I knock him out. I take his keys, and head straight for the vehicle I used to get here. I climb up into the *armored* vehicle and start to undress your corpse. This part grosses me out so I'll skip it and say that I magically have a security uniform on and that I head back into the M-Mart. I head straight for the accounting office, where the vault is still wide open. I take all the cash and load it onto my dolly. Good thing the store meeting is happening at this point, or else I would have been Made, pun intended! I leave the M-Mart, load the cash into the armored vehicle and I promptly leave the scene.\n\nWhat a good day. I feel a lot better now. There's no more traffic, I have a TON of cash, and-\n\"Hey watch it! It's my right of way you jerk! I got a TON of cash that I just stole from that there M-Mart with my **genius** infiltration plan!\" Wait a minute! Oh no. That's the Arachnid-Mobile.\n\nDammit.\n\n\"Is that you Liverpool!? Wow you should really keep your mask on. I mean **that** mug of yours, ugh... do the city a favor and cover it up\" Arachnid-Man quips.\n\nDammit.\n\n\"Yeah, that was a quip. You're as strange as ever you know that!\" Arachnid-Man pulls open the armored vehicle's door, then pulls me out shortly after.\n\n**Dammit**.\n\nIt was supposed to be just another normal day for Made Milson. But darn that Arachnid-Man. Again!",
"Laliyah surfaced from her rest slowly, in stages. Her hearing was always her first faculty to return to her and she could hear her minions in the room all about her. Next her eyes opened and she gazed upon the untold millions of spiders that filled the chamber. The dim glow of all those eyes upon her was always her greatest comfort. These small creatures not only adored her but they needed her and they were committed as she was to understanding the ever changing web of life in the multiverse. Finally, sensation came back to her and the delicate touch of her children was upon her. Each day they wove her a lovely white gown and though she could easily clothe herself with magic she let them do this for her. Taste and smell would come as soon as she could hunt down breakfast for herself and her sizable brood. \n\nThis waking was her first in this universe but Laliyah was not lost. In her multiversal travels she had two constants: cause as much chaos as she dared and gaze upon Asgard and each universe's iterations of Thor and Loki. The variety of changes in just these two was fascinating and in most cases amusing. In nearly all cases, they were pitted against one another and she left them to their fated contests. But sometimes she attracted the attention of that universe's Loki or even the All-Father. In those rare occasions she tried to negotiate but was all too willing to simply kill them. Thor was another matter all together.\n\nLaliyah chuckled to herself and it echoed softly throughout her Web-ship. In her universe, Laliyah had been pushed into Loki's place when her people, the Akana, took over Asgard. They'd had no inkling of the curse that plagued the Asgardians and the part they would now play in it. There was still a Loki but he was the savage half-blood prince of the Jotuns and an attempt at peace that Odin tried to forget when he could. Laliyah had been born to bring ruin to Asgard but she had been Thor's best friend and the Odinson had a sense of honor that just seemed to rub off on all around him. She simply **could not** bring herself to destroy what was rightfully his or pit herself against him for a game of thrones. \n\nHer typical con to enter Asgardian society was to present herself as The Spinner, a sorceress who could see into the future who had come to Asgard from Vanaheim to make a name for herself. A thin cover but it appealed nicely to the vanity of the Asgardians and none but Heimdall could gainsay her. Heimdall always presented a challenge but he could be charmed if caught unaware and a well timed spider bite could put him out of play for several hours. Today was her lucky day because Heimdall was training his apprentice and his post at the Bifrost was manned by two guards.\n\nLaliyah set a course for a lesser known branch of Yggdrasil that led from Vanaheim to Asgard and began to prepare herself. She had done this thousands of times and yet something new could always go wrong. Preparing herself wasn't sharpening weapons or readying spells, it was emptying herself of doubts and embracing the chaos of the moment. Her fortune telling abilities were quite real though her specialty was seeing moments when chaos was at its maximum potential. On a whim she tapped on of the threads of fate tied to Loki, who was female in this universe(how delightful!) and tugged hard on the threads that would bring her to the Bifrost and the one's that would bring her there without guards. The universe murmured at her angrily and she smoothed the threads into place in their new configuration.\n\nJust as she had arranged, Loki was at the Bifrost terminus point and there were only the two guards there with her. Laliyah smiled broadly, her fangs shining with venom, and used a simple sleep spell to neutralize the guards. The more people she killed, the more \"aware\" the universe became of her and the likelier she would be to attract her only foe, The Kassandra, Webmistress of the Multiverse...and Laliyah's husband's lover. She would collect the guards when she was done with Loki and be on her way.\n\n\"What is it that you want, sorceress?\" Loki ask haughtily.\n\n\"Your body.\" Laliyah answered.\n\n\"I'm not that kind of girl. The kind that does it on the first date.\"\n\n\"I meant that I want to consume your flesh.\"\n\n\"Still not interested. Seriously, you are very creepy and need to be elsewhere.\" \n\n\"I cannot do that. I have observed the patterns surrounding you and it appears you have betrayed your sister Thor several times. If I kill you I could stave off Ragnarok for a few thousand years at least. You'd have to be reborn and that takes a while from what I understand. Usually, I give whomever I plan on eating a chance to speak in their defense but I find myself hungrier than usual this day. I'm done talking now.\"\n\nWith those words, Laliyah threw magic at Loki and the fight was on. To feed the chaotic vibe Laliyah let Loki feel like she had a chance of winning for a while. Once Loki stabbed her in the heart she dropped to the ground dramatically and pretending to be bleeding and breathing raggedly. As expected, Loki came to stand over her a gloat triumphantly.\n\n\"Did you expect to win? Loki of Asgard is the most skilled sorceress in the land and could never lose to a petty dabbler like yourself.\" taunted Loki.\n\n\"It was a truly entertaining fight. I've never had anyone bond me to the floor before for the finishing move.\" Laliyah said, as she rose from the floor.\n\n\"How is it possible for you to be doing this?!\" Loki asked in horror and fear.\n\n\"I have done what you could never fathom. When I wanted power I sought how I could get it in every corner of my universe. The price was giving up what I valued most.\" Laliyah replied with a wry smile, \"I sacrificed my ability to feel love and gained power beyond anything you could dream of.\"\n\nLaliyah pulled Loki's dagger from her chest and used it to cut an opening above her left breast. In the space where her heart should have been was a red stone with a rune that said \"Power\" on it. The forging of the Infinity Rune had taken nearly a century of preparation and missteps had nearly cost her her life. Though she had taken Loki's place in her universe Laliyah was not Loki. Yes, she ended up being perceived as a goddess of evil and chaos, just as all Loki's do, but she was a spider above all else. Spiders loathe what isn't neat and tidy and prune threads that are broken or unnecessary. Widows weave tangled webs and so did Laliyah. They were needed to see the results of certain actions and they absorbed nearby chaotic energy and held it indefinitely. She always started with Asgard but Laliyah went far and wide looking for those who caused so much chaos that the very web of fate trembled and did what she must to resolve the problem at hand. The energy she gained from each meal lasted years so consuming every foe wasn't a viable solution. Merely ruining them or tipping the odds in a hero or villain's favor from a distance was her preferred method.\n\nIn no time at all Loki and the guards were wrapped up tight and she was back on her ship. Laliyah gently unwrapped the guards and placed them in the multipurpose chamber. As for Loki, she was pumped full of Laliyah's potent venom and left to liquify. The noise of her children feasting pleased her and she settled down in the eggling chamber to watch over the eggs and any very young spiders.\n\nWith breakfast out of the way and her minions well fed, it was time for Laliyah to begin her lesson for the day: trapdoor setups and their pros and cons. Though she was loathe to admit it there was one weaver who was more skilled than her. Her traitorous husband and former teacher Anansi had seemed to love her well and he taught her all he knew. If he hadn't been afraid of her she could have taken his betrayal. \n\nA small set of fangs pinched her ear and she was jolted back into the present. She stroked the spider gently on it's head and began to weave a trapdoor...",
"Kermit once said it's not easy being green. That doubles when you're an \"evil super villain\". You can't exactly have the city that you've threatened and/or destroyed so many times to pick up your recyclables. Which is fine and all. No bigges. I understand. They think its a trap. I get it. More money for me. Well in theory. I can't exactly show up at the center either with bags full of plastic acid containers and steel drums with skulls and crossbones on them. They take aluminum cans though. Not from me of course. Even when I'm pit of costume I look threatening. And I refuse to believe that these civilians are stupid enough to not recongize me. Well some are. I hope. \n\nBut that means I have to get my goons to do it and they can't be the super ugly goons lest we have issues but the nice looking ones have other issues when I do use them, it's a mess really. And that's just the normal stuff, you try getting rid of nuclear waste cleanly. It's not fun. It's no wonder why so many just dump them in the streets. It's times like these that you appreciate your goons. \n\nJust like when you're shopping. At all. I can't make everything. So that means buying tons of food and clothing and so on. Sure I could steal them but most often a \"hero\" comes and there goes the shipment. I mean really? Really? Come on! How do you know where I am so fast? That means my goons have to do it. So many of them. I have an army to feed after all. Oh why didn't I get into demonic services? I didn't listen. Those guys just need souls or some other junk. That's easy to get. Not 50 truck loads full of food! \n\nBut that's why I treat my goons well. I need them. More than I tell them. Can't let them get an ego. No. Nonononononono. Bad idea. But at least I can relax in my own lair and do something leisurely right? Well yes. But that is work in it of itself. I can't exactly just hook up Internet to my lair. The companies know me. And charge a fortune! Oh, you're a super villain. You can just steal the money we need! Screw you Comcast! You know my success rate!? HUH? Do you? It's like predator animals. Or baseball. You fail most of the time. But unlike them for me that means jail. Oh sure it's easy to get out but it's a pain and annoying. So no I can't steal you a billion dollars for cable! \n\nBut yes I do get it though. I'm human after all. Well. I think I am. It's complicated. What I'm saying is that my neighbors are idiots. I'm glad for it too. No secured wifi. I mean if it was secured I could get around it but that takes time. Time I rather not waste with all the other things I do. Sometimes you just need to sit in your armchair made of human bones, sip your coffee, and watch cat videos. They're so cute! That's why I have one too. She's so fluffy! \n\nAhem. Anyway, when I'm not planning or doing the above I am making money. Yes. Making money. How else do I pay for all of this? And I can't have a normal job. Well usually. Some companies don't care what you look like or if you want to work from home. I like those places. I will destroy them last. Once those \"heroes\" are dealt with. Ugh. Those guys. I don't know how much the other \"villains\" obese about them but I admit they take up a lot of time. Spying, investigating, knowing where they are so you can get your food. It doesn't help that there are lots of them. Way more than I thought. \n\nOh right. Money. Well since legalish ways are out usually, I end up having to scheme. Big schemes get attention so I have to be cautious. Gambling here, a little prostitution there, some black market stuff sprinkled all over, I menw that one is easy. No one cares if Bob loses a kidney. No one even knows his last name. He's just Bob. That one guy I followed as he was drunk and stole his kidney. And liver. He is abusing his anyway. And by they one police come no one would guess me. After all im a \"SUPER villain\" this is supposed to be below me. Feh. \n\nLike I care what they think. I have stuff to do. Like dealing with the IRS. Those people are the evil ones. And since most of my money is from sketchy means that means dealing with them a lot. Offshore money storage, lying, killing a few of them, it's such a pain. I need a vaccation. Badly. Just a week or three. That's all. But I can't. My people need me. And I can't write them a check either. Keeping all of that put of the goverment hands is exhausting. \n\nStill beats what I used to do though. I'll give you that. And when you kill someone... Oh yeah. Who needs drugs? ",
"This made me think of that Powerpuff Girls episode where Mojojo wakes up in the morning to find that he does not have enough eggs for his breakfast. So he climbs down the million and one steps of his laboratory, only to reach the bottom and realize he forgot his wallet upstairs. He makes the trek up nad back down again only this time, he finds a bunch of kids outside, playing in his moat. He tells them not to, but you just know they won't listen. His evil lair is located in the center of the town park, so he is forced to dodge frisbees and dogs and people, and the terrible birds won't stop squalking. At the crosswalk, he waits for the light to turn green. But the wait is unbearable. One woman is listening ot her walkman and snapping her fingers too loudly. Another is on the phone, at top volume, telling someone an innane story that goes nowhere. Some kid is popping his gum. It is all getting ot be just too much. Mojojo is about to explode...finally, the light changes and the crowd crosses the street together and Mojojo is finally able to get the eggs he requires for his breakfast. Once fed, he is finally able to formulate his latest plan for world domination. (except, I think that's when H.I.M. shows up and things get confusing for Mojojo)",
"Doctor Demented throws on his old Kiss shirt and his cut off jeans. He doesn't wear underwear with these clothes. He hopes Cindy will be there today. He grabs his basket of dirty clothes and heads to the laundromat. No Cindy today, at least not yet. She's a little overweight, but she laughs at his jokes. He knows he's not a handsome man, but she seems interested in the man behind the mask. He received hundreds of letters from women who wanted to experience the doctor. He knew what they wanted. Wham, bam, thank you sir, and the villain queen is gone. Another villain on their belt. He had feelings too. What was he going to do after this? He stops thinking about Cindy. He had to buy a few tons of explosives and build some detonators. He looks at his driver's license. The man behind the mask is Dave Donaldson. \n\nDave throws his clothes in the washer. He refuses to buy a washer and dryer. He rebels against the system like that. He waits for Cindy. Come on, Cindy, he hopes. She doesn't show. He finishes washing his clothes and heads home. He runs on his treadmill and catches up on Keeping Up with the Kardashians. In his opinion, the most evil show on television. \n\nSomeone calls him. He sighs. It's one of his henchmen. They've had two weeks off and probably want to know when they're coming back. He had to lay off two of them soon. They were making minimum wage anyway. He wishes he could say it was evil, but the worker's comp was killing him. \n\n\"Yeah, Tony, look I don't have anything new for us yet.\"\n\n\"No, Doctor D, it ain't like that. Andre's been shot.\"\n\n\"What? Take him to a hospital.\"\n\n\"We can't Doctor D.\"\n\n\"I'm Dave. I don't know who Doctor D is, and I can't help Andre. The best thing for him is the hospital.\"\n\nHe hears a knock on his door. No, they wouldn't. He opens the door. Andre is bleeding on his stoop. Tony and Tim bring him inside.\n\n\"What the hell, guys? What did I tell you?\"\n\n\"We know, but...\"\n\n\"Damn it, with that much blood, an artery's been hit. I'm not helping him.\"\n\n\"There's nothing you can do?\" Asks Tony.\n\n\"My floor is ruined. This is a much too typical Saturday guys, and I'll admit I expected this out of you, Tim, but Tony you know better. What did I tell you two years ago?\"\n\n\"To get out of this business.\" Says Tony.\n\n\"What about that grant?\" Says Andre, struggling to talk.\n\n\"What are the rules with the grants, Andre? What are the two main rules?\"\n\n\"Be creative.\"\n\n\"And?\"\n\nAndre's head bobs. He mumbles. \"Minimize casualties.\"\n\n\"And you killed two people. Kind of fucked us over, didn't you?\"\n\nAndre doesn't respond. \n\n\"Now, you're dead. Damn it. Wrap him up in something and get him out of here. Oh, and Tony, you're fired. You can do better than this kid.\"\n\n\"Kid? I'm 37.\"\n\n\"Really!? You've three years older than me? Well, I don't have the money to keep you on, and we're not getting another grant. Subsidizing crime was a terrible idea, I guess.\"\n\n\"What am I going to tell my wife and kids?\"\n\n\"That you're not a criminal and can go back to school. If you're going to cry, get out. I don't have time for that shit today.\"\n\nTony leaves. Andre falls to the floor. Dave grabs a blanket and wraps him up. Tim helps him carry the body to his truck. Another Saturday down the drain because of these jokers. He'd have to bring another body to the dump. Tim stares at him, waiting for an order.\n\n\"Please, go. I have nothing else for you.\"\n\n\"That was pretty mean, boss.\"\n\n\"Please go. Fucking please.\"\n\nTim leaves, and Dave drives his truck to the special dump. Gary, like usual, waves at him and smiles. \n\n\"Hey, Gary. I have another one.\"\n\n\"Another henchman? You must only have a few left.\"\n\n\"It's not my fault. Those grants aren't exactly flowing like they used to be. How am I supposed to compete with mad scientists?\"\n\n\"I hear ya. You can drop him in 2B. I'll probably see you again this month.\"\n\n\"I hope not, but it wouldn't surprise me.\"\n\nDave backs up his truck and pulls out Andre and throws him in the hole. Only four bodies today. I suppose all of this was cheaper than prison. That was a fucking mess according to Oz. \n\nDave heads home and cuts up the bloody carpet. There's no use trying to clean it. He pulls a beer out of the fridge and drinks it quickly. He looks at the clock. It's already six. He sits down at his computer and looks through the villain database. Everything's been done. He grabs another beer. Two hours pass, and he has nothing, like usual. He looks up Cindy's number, but he doesn't call her. Yep, a pretty normal Saturday. ",
"I'm sure you all know who I am by now... \" I mutter under my breath before stepping into the supermarket. I need bacon, eggs, all the non percription painkillers and sedatives, milk, orange juice and some steak. \n\"Hey look mommy that girl is cosplaying Miss Knockout!\"\nMy fist curls around my shopping cart as my perfectly semetrical pigtails bounce with each step full of rage and passion. \"Cosplay... puh-lease! If only you knew... I could make you see stars!\" \n\"Mommy! She even knows her catch phrase!\" \n\"You really should idolise a better influence on your life Miss Knockout is a dead beat girl, childish holding heists in inconveinant places. My gawwd. Grow up!\" The mother called out to me as I passed by, i'd love to knock her dead at this point but I need these grosheries... I could steal them but I'm still sore from the last encounter from Justice-gal. So gorgious, so perfect. Puh-lease! I try to swallow and put it behind me but the woman won't stop. \"You should dress as Justice -gal! She's a radiant beam of morality. She would inspire you to do better yourself...\" I am going to throw up, this woman must be lawful good... it was mortifing. \n\"If... you can't keep your preaching to yourself, I am going to knock you into next week.\" I said slowly hoping the dumb whale could see the venom dripping from my words. My aura started to slip, I could feel my skin crawl as the skin began to shift to scales over my knuckles. \n\"You rude heathen....\" she said baffled, not looking at me. \n\"Mommy... \" her kid whined. \n\"Leave me alone.\" I breathed out looking pissed. \nShe promptly turned her cart and left, I let my skin slowly revert back, my aura tamed itself. I continued to scour the market and collected the rest of what I needed. \n\"You really shouldn't dress like a super villan it doesn't suit a pretty girl like you.\" A smooth talking casanova walked beside me. \n\"What do you want, creep?\"\n\"Ouch. Just wondering if you wanted to go out.\" \n\"No can do, evil plotting to do.\" \n\"Seriously, common... you could come out with me.\"\n\"I have a heist next week-\"\n\"Drop the act girl, let me show you a good time with my friend down below.\" \n\"Nothankyou creep 5.0\" I said quickly stomping away in my vintage heels. \nHe chased me through the store, \"I like bad girls!\" He smiled deviously. \n\"Go find someone more desperate then you....\" I turned and pulled at my studded gloves, letting my aura flash from my eyes. \nHe flipped out, falling on his ass... he stayed away after that. Intimidation level increased. \nFinnaly done with that fiasco, I stood in line for all of about 5 seconds before scaring my way to the next in line. Paid for it all and bagged it, time to go back to the Knockout Ring. My personal palace. Its not easy being me. ",
"*Honk*\n\nI grumble as the asshole lays down on his horn. I stick my hand out the window of my old Datsun and flip him off. This would never happen if I was in my Deathmobile. That always gets respect.\n\nBut the Union won't allow the use of villainous transport to shop for groceries.\n\nGet to the store, no parking spaces, except...aha! Handicapped parking, front and center. My lucky day. Hang up my false tag and in I go.\n\nGrab a cart, last one left. The front right wheel is broken, causing it to constantly veer to the side. I grip the handle for control so tightly my heat powers melt the plastic coating.\n\n\"Oh, hey!\"\n\n I look up and there he is. Derik Dashing, aka Wonder Guy. Handsome, charming, lousy in bed as I recall.\n\nI smile and give him a wave. He tries to hook up with me over the weekend, I refuse. I just want my groceries.\n\nHe gives up and I move to the produce. I want bananas. Of course they're out of bananas. Why wouldn't they be?\n\nI start to grab some plantains instead, but crack up thinking of Derik and pass them by.\n\nShopping, cart handle melting, people stopping in the aisles to chat while taking up as much space as possible.\n\nI hate those people.\n\nA little press on my sonic emitter and they're bleeding from the ears. Respect taught.\n\nNot that I'm allowed to use it, but what the Union doesn't know won't hurt me.\n\nI grab more groceries, including a few things I don't need, but, hey, I've got coupons. Get to the line...and fifty people waiting.\n\nTo hell with this.\n\nI pull around and stroll right out the door.\n\n\"Miss? Hey, Miss!\"\n\nBagboy.\n\nI turn as he approaches, step in before he can say another word, and grab his ass.\n\nHe must've found it thrilling, judging by his face, right before his pants burst into flame. A flip of the sonic emitter to seal the deal and I'm loading groceries in peace.\n\nI pull out of the parking lot and speed down the road when it hits me.\n\nShit. I forgot the milk.",
"Get up.\n\nIf you don’t, you’ll miss the minion morning meeting. Places like this run on structure, and postponing the 3M will just send ripples of unproductive work all over the place.\n\nStill, waking up is the worst. Do you know what kind of hours you have to keep to threaten China AND Monaco? \n\nCan’t even get toothpaste. I’m out and the ship to shore doesn’t come back until Monday. Assuming they will have a toiletries shipment. Still, you think they would have learned after the toilet paper shortage a year ago. This place was still under construction. I saw a guy relieve himself into a cement mixer. Not the direction you’re thinking. Since then, he’s been in a box that reminds everyone what happens when we don’t have adequate hygiene. If I have morning breath, everyone gets to be uncomfortable.\n\nStairs. So many stairs. It’s one thing to sit on a high dais, it’s another to have to get up there myself. I have a treadmill and a weight set in my chambers, but the treadmill is still covered in the empty boxes that the weights came in. The weights get used though. How am I supposed to be intimidating without some muscle? The day after I work out legs, I always have the same thought. But, no matter how menacing the pointed steel stairs are, a handrail would ruin the aesthetic.\n\nIt’s a program built into the microphone. There, are you happy? That’s my secret. Nobody has a voice this deep. It just doesn’t happen. But, with a few lines of code and a microcontroller, I can make everyone hang on my every word. It’s perfect for conference calls.\n\nThe minion in front of me is babbling about benchmarks and throughput. Sorry, Operations Manager. You can’t just call people minions anymore. It’s all gone wrong. It used to be about the money and power. I’ve traded expendable crew for HR. I’ve traded shark tanks for OSHA-approved railings. \n\nI’ve traded “You won’t get away with this” for “It’s not in the budget.”\n\nHow did we get so big? It used to be me and No-Face. Now even he’s out of the game. Settled down with the Shapely Shadow and had kids. Not that I could blame him. She turned me down.\n\nMy CFO is yelling on the phone to our investors. They want to know why we haven’t sold out yet. See if they can stifle their losses. It costs a lot of money to operate out of a volcano. Location, location, location. They won’t even listen to all the tax benefits we get by being our own nation. All of a sudden we have to deal with tariffs. \n\nI turn to the wall, to my cherished possession. A spy we caught one time, permanently frozen in ice. It must have been nice to be so free. To up and move any time you want. Fast cars, faster women, and absolute freedom. I touch the ice.\n\nWhere did it go wrong?\n"
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[WP] Giant alien robots invade the earth. Their only weakness, the imaginations of children.
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"Screams rent the sky as the foul forces of chaos pushed at the defenses, profane demonic constructs stalked no mans land detonating landmines with every step and stripping souls. The elite of chaos had sent their maddened hordes of the lost and the damned to die in their hundreds of thousands, the forces of order slayed them all but their deaths were intended as sacrifice on the altar of war and fuelled the dark magics and summonings. \r\rA massive walker stood tall soaking up incoming fire, it's shields bolstered by a slavening demon haunting it's mechanisms. All seemed lost, line after defensive line wiped out by fouled war machines opening up access to the last city on the planet along with it's inhabitants. The apocalypse cannon of the doom walker sighted one of the final artillery batteries and cycled up to fire, the walker shook violently and fell apart into a pile parts and pieces.\r\rA flyer had broken through the tortured atmosphere with the rear hatch open, there a man in black if not for the smoke could have been seen to direct a small child. The craft landed behind command HQ overriding every security protocol. The man in black entered with an entourage of children and some minders.\r\rThey were called dreamers, children of potent psychic ability taken and trained through drugs, implants and conditioning to use their skills via imagination. Through a setup called the Sleeping Choir the children destroyed every demonic construct on the planet, their lives slowly ended from the strain. Their sacrifice removed the greatest threat and allowed humanity to win the day.\r\rAuthor note: I am a little drunk.",
"The giant robot body fell to the ground, the remains of its head were setting fire to Mr Parson's rose bush, he would not be happy when he got back from the hospital.\n\nDaniel looked at it a few seconds longer and went back to playing with his toys. That had been the third robot to try and speak to him without words. Daniel had simply asked it if it wanted to play. \n\nThere was a rush of air and a 3 metallic legs came into view, followed by a rounded body and topped with a head that made it looks like Robbie the Robot. This robot was as tall as the house and had landed the back garden. It looked at the scrap metal of the other three for a moment and looked at the house. The back portion of the house had been torn off and was laying neighboring garden. Just inside there was a small human child sitting at a table which was covered in toys. \n\nThe robot decided it was best to scan first to see what happened. The scanner activated and he locked on to the brainwaves. He began taking surface readings, and after detecting nothing abnormal asked a question. \n\nWHAT HAPPENED HERE? the robot asked inside Daniels head\n\n\"I think they are tired. They didn't want to play with me.\"\n\nWHAT IS PLAY? \n\nDaniel started to explain the game he was playing. He had barely got through explaining the army of Harry Potters that were assaulting Cloud City, which was only the second pile out of the several he had around the table. There was a soft ping sound and the smell over overheating plastic filled the air. A few seconds later the robots head exploded. Daniel went back to playing while the body fell against the first one and with a grinding of metal slid to the left and into Mrs Junes garden. Daniel went on playing in silence.\n\nThere was a rush of air and three metallic legs appeared."
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[WP] Include the line, "Wait, but how can that be me when I'm right here?"
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"I woke up like i do every morning, hungover and needing to pee, only that day i found something odd, you see I'm male and in my twenties, but the face looking back in the mirror was that of a female around eighteen years old.\n\nNow to make a long story short the first few hours were spend freaking out and \"exploring\" my new body before i came up with the bright idea to find out what happened to my old body.\n\nAfter some searching i found i was only twenty miles from where i used to live and in the body of some woman named Nancy, my hope was that Nancy switched with me somehow and had a way to turn us back.\n\nAfter arriving at my house i was shocked to find that not only was Nancy not in my body, i was. The conversation went a bit like this:\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\n\"I'm Ted Wernstrom.\"\n\n\"No, your not* I'm* Ted Wernstrom.\"\n\n\"Wait, but how can that be me when i'm right here?\"\n\n\"I don't know i woke up like this, I was hoping Nancy was in your body so she could undo this.\"\n\n\"Who's Nancy?\"\n\n\"The previous owner of this body.\"\n\n\"Then where's Nancy.\"\n\n\"I DON'T KNOW.\"\n\n\nWell this continued for a while before we agreed that i should sleep over and hope its a one day thing.\n\nIt wasn't a one day thing, and whats worse we got a call from two other people claiming to be us, both claiming to have woke up that day as us.\n\nAt this point it was goodbye waiting as we all drove to the same hospital to see if any of them could help us, first they though we were nut cases, but seeing as we were willing to pay whatever they held off on psychiatric evaluation and do some lab works on us, most of it was useless, but we hit the jackpot when they compared MRI scans, while we were physically different our brains matched each other perfectly .\n\nThis was however the bad news, changes in the brain like that were unrecorded and therefor unfix able, we drew straws to see who would stay to undergo further treatment and the rest went to my place to rest.\n\nThe next morning what we feared came true, another four people called to tell them they were now us. Luckily one of the changed ones was married to a wealthy husband who desperately wanted his wife back, so ads went out in all the papers and rewards were established for any who were able to give clue's to our condition. \n\nWeeks went by and our numbers began to grow, but with it so did the publics fear, you see we only knew what we learned, so when a heart surgeon suddenly became one of us he was no longer able to continue his work, and with our exponential growth it was calculated that we would overtake the world population before long and all knowledge would be lost as all would be me.\n\nNow of course people didn't take this lying down, in most countries they started rounding me up and executing me to slow down the conversion rate, but it was in vain, you see while i grasped the necessity of what they were doing deep down i was a coward who didn't want to die, and since i only needed a single day to double my numbers they were fighting a losing battle.\n\nI forgot what day it was when world leaders decided that it was futile, some in a last fit of despair unleashed their nuclear warheads, but others realized that if humanity had any hope of survival it was through me and build me vast storages of knowledge and hoped that one day i would find a way to undo what humanity has become.\n\nOnly when all of humanity was converted did the horror truly start, you see we though it was limited to humans, we were wrong, entire species collapsed overnight as i lacked the natural instincts to keep them going, the food chain gone with me as both predator and prey, before long we were forced to eat and enslave our animal brethren to survive, many turned to cannibalism as society slowly collapsed around them, but i could not blame them, its what i would have done after all.",
"I look at the wall, completely confused. When did another one get here? I look around and find nothing aside from myself and the normal room furnishings. Then I look back at the wall, there it is. It looks just as confused as I am. Maybe if I go up to it we can figure out what's going on.\n\nAs I approach, it seems to have the same idea so I jump back; startled and a little defensive now. I tilt my head one way, then the other. I approach again, same thing as before, it jumped and so did I. Okay so maybe approaching wasn't the greatest idea. I backed away, but decided to look threatening. I was so distracted i never noticed people had walked in. \n\n\"Awww look, Roscoe is scared of his reflection in the mirror!\"\n\nMirror?\n\n\"He's so cute.\" They pick me up and put my nose to the mirror, i let out a little growl to show whose boss. \"It's okay boy, thats just you!\"\n\nWait, but how can that be me when I'm right here? They put me down and I snarl at the 'mirror' and 'my reflection' snarls back. That thing is vicious, and it *isn't* me."
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[WP] You wake up to two messages on your phone from an unknown number. The first is a picture of you. The second: "Run."
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"What's that racket? A dump truck? At this time in the morning? Those things couldn't be louder if they tried. What's a guy got to do to get a decent night of sleep?\n\nI roll over to the side of my bed. A half empty bag of chips crunches below me. I'm sure they're still good...\n\nWhat day's it? Tuesday? Wednesday? \n\nI reach for my phone to check the time.\n\nIt's only 11:55. I should get back to bed. I mean... I can still grab a few more hours of sleep before hunger will force me up.\n\nTwo messages. Might as well check 'em out.\n\nAn unknown number? Not surprising, I've got what? four contacts saved?\n\nHmm, haven't seen that photo in a while. Damn I used to be skinny. Well, skinnier at least...\n\n\"Run :)\" That's got to be mom. Does she really think she can force me to change to something that suits her? She needs to learn she can't just mold me into whatever she wants...\n\nI should probably eat those chips before they go stale...\n\nI wonder if I could get back into the same dream.\n",
"The floorboards creaked and moaned as they tended to do in a windy thunderstorm. First it was the banging that woke me originally, I hadn't slept in a day or so and the exhaustion finally hit me about an hour before. Then bed buzzed once. I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, ignoring it. The bed then buzzed twice shortly after the first. I immediately got annoyed with the offending object and peeked an eye open to turn the screen on and turn off the vibrating setting. This proved to be rather difficult as I had cracked the screen of my Samsung earlier in the week and required two eyes now. I clumsily slid my finger across the screen opening it to the messages by accident, the unread message from a 1-800 number was odd and stuck out. I was curious now, the annoyed feeling gone. I clicked on it thinking about the stupid stories you hear about people texting the wrong number and began to feel a bit eager to see what the messages said. The first was a picture loading slowly, the second had a single word on it, \"Run.\" I raised a brow, and clicked on the picture, hoping it'd load faster that way. It did and as I recognized the same black and white bed-sheets as I had on my bed right now, the hair stood up on the back of my arms and an icy feeling ran down to my toes. With a feeling of building horror, I looked at me sleeping. One leg stuck out from under the covers and I could tell from my position, it was taken quite recently. I was still sprawled out with the same leg sticking out from under the covers still. Now it felt more exposed than comfortable in that position. I went into observing mode, taking in the angle in the picture. It was from above me, and seemed to be taken from the door way. Why would they want me to run? Can I run past them? Can I run right now? How fast can I run? They want this to be a game, obviously, so can I defend myself then? My eyes flashed to the nightstand drawer next to me, I knew my pocket knife was in there. Where were they hiding? How did they get in? Did they have a key? Did they just break in? If they were far enough away, maybe I could grab the knife, but if I did what happens when they take it from me and use it against me? The phone buzzed again, I jumped slightly. I looked down, there was a new message now below the command to run, it read \"Now.\" Well he wasn't very chatty. Rude. I halfway wanted to text him back and tell him to piss off but I felt like it wasn't a good plan for the long run. I took in a quiet breath and launched into action, flipping over and throwing the covers off then jumping off the bed to begin my panic dash. I was wearing shorts and a tank top as my usual sleeping outfit, and the shorts had risen up sometime in the night leaving me with an uncomfortable wedgie that I wasn't about to adjust, just in case he decided to come at me for whatever reason. I wanted to have my hands free for clawing his eyes out if I had too. It occurred to me that I might be able to wake my neighbors up if I could get outside. I had a feeling he'd be some where near the front door, assuming he didn't want me to get out of the actual house, so I vouched for quietly going out the back door and hopping the fence. \n\nI arrived at the back door and reached for the door handle to push down and get out of this place. I felt the impact of a hard object hitting me from the side and my head bouncing off the tile of the kitchen before I realized I had just been side-tackled to the floor. \n\nLe cliffhanger :3 you're welcome. Will be back after I actually sleep. ",
"Groggily I woke. Being a Saturday, my favorite day, I drug myself out of bed to the bathroom for my normal morning routine, which I referred to as 'SSS'. After my daily drill, while I get dressed, I spot a small light flickering on my phone. I get excited as I had not seen my girlfriend for four months due to her being over seas for work. I stumble as I fall over with only one pant leg on as reach for my phone. Laying on the ground, I manage to wake my phone to see it is not Stephanie. Dejectedly, I check the message, to find a number I do not recognize, my phone tells me it is from Arizona. I read the messages, see a picture of me, lying right where I am, how I am, and get a little concerned, then I read one word. \"Run.\"\n\nI oblige.\n\nI run to my basement, calling 911 in the process. Hurriedly, I report what has happened to the operator, who calmly reassures me that there are multiple units in route. I respond to her that should anyone without proper law enforcement identification try to enter my home, I shall exercise the castle doctrine. I then hang up, and ready myself. All cunning in the world won't stop me from defending myself."
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[WP] Everyone is given a hourglass at birth counting down to the time of your death, the sand in yours just stopped falling.
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"She wakes up, she looks over to the inevitable, like a clock, the literal sands of time, marking her journey to oblivion. The cascade has stopped, the individual grains, jammed behind theglass in perfect balance. Should I flick it? Fuck no. Is this my lottery win? She pinches herself, no pain. Wake up Alison. But the numbness feels real, visceral. \"I'm awake\"\nShe wonders of the possibilities, all at once but all individual. It's a mistake, the norm will return as soon as her mind escapes this fallicy, this dream, this fluke.\nShe allows herself, the fantasy. What would she do?\nContinue with her day, wait until she's in the bank that day, point a finger through her pocket, rob the place.\nNo, silly. Why live forever in prison?\nWait, go out that night, wait for the inevitable creep to walk over, make a nuisance, take a liberty, and punch him square in the jaw, finally take a stand, rather than moving away, pretending that nothing happened.\nNo, why risk it? Is that behaviour is worthy of an immortal?\nShe sinks back into the the pillow, smiles. Remembers the chance encounter at the bank, the drunken first date in town. She walks into the kitchen and smiles. Her husband smiles back.\n",
"\"Well.\"\n\n\"WELL.\"\n\nTwo figures sat staring at the object on the table between them. One very tall and clad in black, the other not. The talk, black one was rather gaunt, skeletal in fact. \n\nAfter a long while the thin one spoke again.\n\n\"THIS IS UNIQUE, I HAVE TO SAY.\"\n\nThe smaller one nodded in agreement. \n\n\"I would rather think so. Not like there is a lot of us running around, otherwise you would be out of a job.\"\n\nThe tall one nodded. \n\n\"INDEED.\"\n\nWhere they sat was of interest. It was the ruins of a city, long long dead. No one had lived in it for millennia. Dust sat atop dust. The maid had not been in for many many years. \n\nThe object with which both figures was staring at was ordinary in it's own way, with one small extraordinary difference. A small glass thing. Bulbous on each end and framed by ebony wood. Simple, yet elegant. Filled with a white sand, the bottom of which had a small pile and the top which also had a pile descending. In the middle you would expect the sand to flow ceaselessly. But in this case it stubbornly sat motionless, defying gravity and dramatic effect. \n\nTall, dark, and bony was staring at it intently. Even with no eyes that was obvious. \n\n\"NEVER SEEN ONE DO THAT BEFORE. EVEN UPSIDE DOWN THEY FLOW.\"\n\n\"Imagine my surprise when it happened. I thought I was already a goner. The first few years I kept checking to make sure I was alive. Then after a century or two I stopped worrying about it. After a thousand or so years you begin to get curious, especially when you get bored after reading just about everything there is.\"\n\n\"MMM.\" Said the dark robed one.\n\nA skeletal finger reached out and tapped the hourglass. The sand shifted a bit but remained as it was. The other figure watched wordlessly. \n\nAfter a good long while, the tall one sat up, fingering his robe. \n\n\"WELL THIS WON'T DO. NONE ARE LEFT BUT YOU. CAN'T LEAVE THINGS LIKE THIS, LOOKS BAD.\"\n\nThe immortal shrugged. \"What can we do? I can't die, tried. Lots of times. Even sat at the bottom of the ocean for a few years, just got soggy.\"\n\n\"WELL I CAN'T JUST LEAVE YOU HERE.\"\n\nThey both sat and thought a while. The wind picked up and stirred up the dust around them in lazy eddies. \n\nThe immortal suddenly sat up. \"What happens to you?\"\n\n\"WHAT?\"\n\n\"After we all die? What do you do?\"\n\n\"WELL.\" the robed one fell silent for a moment. \"I SUPPOSE I COULD RETIRE, HANG UP THE SCYTHE. MAYBE DO SOME TRAVELING.\"\n\n\"That's not a bad idea. Would you like some company?\"\n\nBone on bone scratching could be heard as the skeletal digits met the skull's chin. \n\n\"NOT A BAD IDEA, THAT. COULD BE FUN.\"\n\n\"Right,\" the immortal stood up and dusted off his pants. \"Shall we?\"\n\nThe gaunt figure stood up to it's full height, and kept standing up, towering over the last man. \n\n\"WHY NOT?\"\n\nA rip appeared in the space behind him, rippling against reality, stars could be seen on the other side, gaseous nebulae of incredibly vastness and beauty. \n\nThe tall figure and immortal man stepped toward the opening. \n\n\"THERE IS A PLANET IN ANDROMEDA I HAVE HEARD NICE THINGS ABOUT, VERY LOVELY WEATHER.\"\n\n\"Sounds delightful.\" The last human said with a smile as they walked off the Earth.\n\nAfter they left, there was no sound except the mournful cries of the wind through the empty shells of buildings. The hourglass sat on a lone table. The wind picked up and knocked it over where it rolled to the edge of it and fell off. It hit the ground and rolled a bit, coming to rest against a rock. The sand inside staying in its same shape, unmoving. \n"
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[WP] Today is the big day! Mom and Dad said we finally get to go to the shelter and adopt a human!
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"\nToday is the best day ever! My mother told me that today we get to go to the animal shelter and get us a human.\n\nI was actually surprised by this because for the past 10 years I have been begging Mom and Dad for one. They told me that I was not responsible enough for a human so I could get a dog. I told them I didn't want a doggy and I wanted a human. \n\nThis morning my Mom said I could get a human because since I turned 11 I am now responsible enough for one.\n\nWe hopped in the hover car to go the Human shelter. Once we arrived we were greeted by this nice old secretary who asked us what we were there for. We told her that we were here to adopt a human. \n\nShe told us that she just got a new batch from down south and we were free to go look. Inside there were lots of sad looking humans in these small crates. I looked around and saw mostly young male and females as well as a few adults. I turned to my Dad and asked if I could get a baby human.\n\nHe asked, \"Ya know that the children are harder to care for?\"\n\nI told him, \"I know! But you said I'm not a responsible person so I want to show you I am!\"\n\nI looked around and decided on a young redheaded girl about age 6. As I pointed her out to the staff, the girl broke into tears. One of the staff told me it was crying because its hard for them to leave their family. I laughed at this because of how silly that was. Humans know they are born to be pets, but they are too simple to understand\n\nWe dragged her away screaming to the car. She wasn't that expensive really, only about 2000 Credit. \n\nAs we drove home, we thought about what we should name our human. We asked the thing what its name was, and it responded with Mary. My Mom and Dad laughed at this and told me that that name was too common and human. After thinking about it, we decided to name it Xin, the goddess of fire. My Mom said that it was a good name since the Humans fur was red.\n\nWe turned to the human as it cried, accepting its fate.\n\n(Note: this is my first submission to this subreddit. I am also bad at writing stories so constructive criticism would be great. :))",
"Mom and dad had promised, and as we all know, promises are absolute. I closed my eyes again and replayed the Recall for what must have been the hundredth time. 5 years, 15 days, 2 hours, 25 minutes and two seconds had passed since that moment. “SWEETHEART, YOURE NOT DEVELOPED ENOUGH TO HAVE A HUMAN, YOUR MOM AND I WILL END UP MAINTAINING IT” my father bellowed.\n“BUT…DAD…WHEN WILL I BE DEVELOPED ENOUGH?? I WANT A HUMAN NOW,” I whined as I began flailing my appendages. I started to shift my facial features around and forced my coloration into a deep green, imitating human children I had observed in Recall. “FINE, YOU CAN HAVE A HUMAN WHEN YOU GET TO 10, if you stop that THIS INSTANT!” My father bellowed. He hated when I acted out acquired memories, especially those of humans.\n\nThat was all I needed. Recall was a brilliant thing, really, being able to replay any and all memories at any moment. Today marked my 10th liveyear. It was time!\nI thought about humans. So simple their minds were, irrational with “emotions”. No surprise the shelters were overwhelmed with them. They announced yet another culling movement just last week. Another major flaw with these humans, they can’t control reproduction. Their primitive behaviors were just so fascinating.\n\nMom, dad and I traveled to the shelter without a word. With Recall, there was no reason for what humans refer to as “conflict” anymore. All memories were preserved exactly as they had been for all of time, and accessible instantaneously by all. There were no wars or violence, just peace. I had done my research though, accessing the Recall of my great, great, great, great grandmother, who was alive for the last human war. I wanted my human to feel comfortable, after all!\n\nWe entered the shelter and the attendant welcomed us warmly. She warned us not to get too close to the cages, as apparently they have had some issues with humans using their teeth to try to inflict injury on patrons. Obviously they didn’t realize our skin was impenetrable, so they ended up breaking their own teeth, causing quite the hassle for staff during feeding time. As Mom, Dad, and I approached the wall of enclosures, I heard a slight, pathetic whimper toward my left. One of my eyes snapped toward the culprit: a small, white colored male human child with orange hair looked at me with an emotion that Recall identified as “fear”. How cute!\n\nI was momentarily drawn to a commotion in one of the larger cages. Apparently some were kept together for something called “socialization”, it was really probably due to overpopulation. I looked on with amusement as two large males faced off over a piece of meat. In seconds, the slightly larger one had snapped the neck of the other, and he slumped to the ground. I wanted MY human to play well with the others in the neighborhood, so I returned to the initial small orange human. Salty water was now streaming down his face, Recall provided a word for this, “tears”. I had made my choice. \n\nI felt the temperature of my core begin to rise; something Recall had taught me was somewhat similar to the human emotion of “excitement”. I looked at this tiny orange human, “Buddy” I would call him, as humans assigned value to being called something concrete. Such fascinating creatures, really and I finally had one of my own! I wondered which of its’ favorite games it would want to play first, War, Famine or Disease? \n",
"Thessa poked a finger through the cage and dropped in a pellet of cheese. \"Rudee? Dinner. Come and get it.\"\n\nThis side of the facility--the side that faced the customers--was well-lit. But the cages rolled back to the other side, where the humans had more privacy. Humans were very private, especially this Rudee, who often only came out when no one had noticed. Or when there was a Selection pending, as there was today. *Come on,* Thessa thought. *You have to be playful today, Rudee. You have to get chosen. It's your twentieth week here.*\n\nShe'd seen him do it before. At first he'd always had a smile on those thin lips of his. But over time the drugery of the cage had made him wary of adopters.\n\nThessa tapped a finger against the cage. \"Come on, Rudee.\" Then she went to the next cage, Elza's house. Elza was a beautiful human, female, 20 years old with long blonde hair and wide hips. Elza made that funny sound humans make, which sounds like *ENGISH,* as the humans will tell you. Thessa smiled and dropped in the cheese. There were four more humans to visit, each of varying beauty and gender, including a great bearded one called Torr that most customers loved to look at but most were too afraid to choose.\n\nThen the door buzzed.\n\n*A new Selection,* Thessa knew when she saw them. The last customers of the day.\n\nNot all customers bought a human on days of Selection. Most simply browsed. But when Thessa eyed the mom, dad, and child, she knew right away they would be bringing one home.\n\n\"Mom and dad said we finally get to go to the shelter and adopt a human!\" the child told Thessa.\n\n\"That's great,\" she smiled. \"We have many different types here.\" She eyed the mother. \"Would you like to see?\"\n\nThe mother nodded her approval, and Thessa took them around the clerk's counter to see the entries to the human cages. The child *oo'd* when she saw Torr, but when Torr rushed the cage, he scared the child away.\n\n\"Ha, ha, ha,\" Torr laughed.\n\nThe child looked near in tears, so Thessa interjected. \"Torr's more playful than he looks. He knows he's scary, so he pretends to be a monster. He's really quite gentle.\"\n\n\"Another one, please,\" said the mother.\n\nThey went down the line. Next up was Sra, a beautiful female human--at least she would have been so, if her age wasn't plain on her face. She extended a wrinkled hand to the child and made kind human sounds.\n\n\"Do you like her?\" the mother asked.\n\nThe child shrugged. \"She's pretty. But she's old.\" The old woman frowned, and went to the back of the cage.\n\nThankfully, Elza wasn't in the front of the cage, so Thessa skipped ahead to the next one--Rudee's. \"Rudee,\" Thessa called. \"Some people are here, and they might adopt you.\"\n\nRudee walked out slowly. He had grown fur all over his face since he'd been caged in, and he was always wary of adopters. But despite the fear in his eyes--or maybe because of it--the child took to him immediately.\n\n\"Aw,\" said the child. \"He looks scared. I want to hold him.\"\n\n\"He's young enough,\" the mother said. She looked at Thessa. \"Healthy?\"\n\n\"He's had all of his vaccinations,\" Thessa said. \"He's shy at first, but you'll find no one more loyal or kind.\"\n\n\"Oh, mom, can we keep *him*?\" the girl cried. \"I'll shave that ugly face, but I want to keep him. He has puppy dog eyes and I want to make him smile.\"\n\nThe girl's father had stayed one cage behind. Suddenly, he said \"come here, look at this one.\" \n\n*No,* thought Thessa. *Not Elza. Adopt Rudee.*\n\nElza came forward, her long blond hair like a pyramid down to her waist. Adopters loved that kind of hair. \n\nSo did the child. \"Oh, her hair is so soft! I want this one instead, she's so pretty.\"\n\nThe mother was hesitant. \"But the male--he was kind to you. Don't you want one that you can care for and protect?\"\n\n\"He's ugly. I want the pretty one. Speak!\" commanded the child.\n\nElza made some human sounds, beautiful and sing-songy. *No, no, no,* Thessa thought. The soft flute in Elza's voice had won the family over. *It's not Elza that needs to be adopted, it's Rudee.*\n\n\"I should tell you that Rudee's time here is nearly expired--\"\n\n\"No!\" said the child. \"No, no, no! Elza!\"\n\n\"We'll take Elza,\" the mother said flatly.\n\nAfter Thessa led Elza out via leash and into the waiting arms of the child, after the paperwork was done, after the child enthusiastically jumped after her human, Thessa hoped more adopters would come before five o'clock. But it was nearly five.\n\nThessa called her boss.\n\n\"Do I have to?\" she asked, when she had the courage to ask it.\n\n\"You know the regulations. We can't keep them for more time, and they can't be out on the streets. They're dangerous.\"\n\nBefore locking up, Thessa tapped on Rudee's cage. He came forward then, a faint sign of that thin-lipped smile she'd once known still on his lips. He only came out at night, when it was just him and Thessa, because she was the only one he trusted. He said something to her, something reassuring, and it broke her heart. *I'm so sorry,* Thessa thought.\n\n\"I have a vaccination for you,\" Thessa said. \"I know they're painful, but just give me a few minutes and it will all be over.\"\n\n*The adopters always go for the pretty ones,* she thought to herself. *But Elza would have been adopted in time no matter what. Why couldn't someone take Rudee, just once?*\n\nThe look in Rudee's glassy eyes said that he understood. He lifted a sleeve and pressed his arm against the opening of the cage. Thessa gave him the injection, and soon after, Rudee went to sleep. Torr seemed to sense something; he started growling something odd in human language, and rattling his cage. But he couldn't see, luckily, or else he would have seen Rudee go limp, the thin smile disappearing from his lips--nor the bag Thessa zipped around his body.",
"My mom woke me up with a platter of cheese. \"Happy birthday, sweetheart! Dad and I have a real surprise for you, so come to the living room quickly, okay?\" She handed the platter to me and left me to my breakfast. After finishing it (Gouda, Emmenthaler and Roquefort, thank you very much) I went to the living room to see my mom and dad sitting expectantly on the floor cushions. They lit up as soon as they saw me. I've been waiting for this my whole life, y'know.\n\nSo, after the presents (food, all food. I ate it immediately), they told me they had one last present to give me. I knew what it was. They knew I knew. Everyone gets one on their twentieth weekday. \"You're getting a human.\" dad said.\n\nHumans are funny. They are easy to control, easy to delude and easy around the house. This was, as mom and dad said, because they always thought they were in control. You didn't even have to raise them. You just widened your eyes and peeped a little bit, and they would fall for you. And today I finally have the chance to get one too!\n\nThey prepared me. Taught how to look \"cute\" and \"sad\" and all these things I wasn't. And then, when they heard faint voices near the front door they pushed me towards the cage. The house human led this family to our street. Single mom, teenage boy, and a pre-teen girl. I looked around me. Three competitors. Piece of cake.\n\nThey didn't stand a chance. As soon as the girl caught my eye they all knew it was over. She immediately tugged her mother's sleeve. \"Mommy, I want this one, he looks so cute!\" The boy sighed audibly. I looked back to my parents one more time before hands cupped around me and I went into the free world.\n\nEDIT: Spelling.\n\n\n",
"Today was the day.\nEver since I was an infant, I desperately wanted to have a pet. Not just any pet, though: a human.\n \nMy mother didn't agree that it was a pleasant idea to adopt a pet human, especially since they are close to extinct now. \nBefore the plague hit, shortly after the gorilla rebellion took place in 2065, humans were in abundance. They were as common as a cat or a dog; they were also unbelievingly easy to obtain. However, after the majority of the populace died, in order to get a little thing, you have to get permits, have the right habitat. Your home gets checked every month to male sure its healthy. They would also inseminate the females to keep the species alive.\n\nBut I coerced my mother into getting one and now we were headed to the adoption agency. The reason why I believe she agreed to it was because she had lost her soul, or what a human would call \"spouse,\" six months ago in a tragic accident.\nOn the way, I would ask small questions about the history of humans and how intelligent they were. \nShe would respond with short answers; being vague about how they brought their own demise when they gave our Overlord knowledge. \nThe more we talked, the more excited and impatient I became. \nEventually, I was hopping around my mother in delight while she ambled about.\nThis continued to happen until we reached the fort-company. My mother stayed at the entrance and somberly gazed at the ground. She didn't say anything and exhaled. Something was on her mind, but it did not matter to me right now. I would talk to her later.\n\n\"Come on!\" I roared out in our native tongue and went inside without her. She was probably nervous about having a human pet. In my mind, she said yes, so I went to look at them.\nAfter conversing for a few minutes, I was allowed inside; the joy in my heart at its capacity, until I saw them.\n\nThey were all bare and huddled in the corner. Some were different colors, but all were frail and somewhat pale. They looked terrified towards me and stayed together. Specifically, there was a tiny female there: probably about 7 years old with wide eyes and a few missing teeth. She hid behind a darker toned man, who instinctively showed resent towards me. This was not the type of human I saw on the pamphlets. The ones I saw were well-fed, clothed, and happy. Frowning, I trotted a little closer to the glass that separated us and pointed at the sick-looking girl I saw earlier. \nThe two who accompanied me took out whip-like devices and started to walk towards the terrified group. The humans began to yell and protect the girl, who began to cry. I closed my eyes as I heard the man that protected earlier got whipped and thrown to the side. I heard the two murmuring that they were going to put him down after I leave for being too violent. \nAfter a few minutes of loud noises and cries, I felt a leash go into my hand and heard two pairs of footsteps leave the room. I opened my eyes to see the brown-haired child peering towards me with tears falling down her cheeks.\n\nSeeing this made something click; I was not going to stand around and let this happen anymore.\nHumans do not deserve to be treated this way. \nI had to do something. \nAnything.\n"
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[WP] Kim Jong Un has stated that he will agree to all disarmament terms and even have North Korea join the United Nations. There is just one condition: he will only do so if he is defeated in a one-on-one dance-off. His opponent must be the leader of a nation.
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"\"I can't believe this stupid shit. What is this world coming to?\"\n\nPresident Barack Obama facepalmed in his chair at his desk in the Oval Office. \n\n\"Well, I guess I'll do it. I mean, how well can a fat-assed North Korean dictator with bad ankles really dance?\"\n\n\"Barack, you know damn well you can't dance. Remember our wedding? Remember the Inaugural Ball? You couldn't dance even if world peace depended on it,\" replied First Lady Michelle Obama.\n\n\"I know, Michelle. But my allied counterparts are fat old white men. Kim Jung-Un's a young guy. Even with his ankles, he could probably dance circles around them. Who among us is skilled enough to defeat him in a dance-off?\"\n\n\"I'll give it a shot.\"\n\nBarack and Michelle's eyes widened with surprise upon sight of an unexpected guest.\n\n\"Putin?!\" Barack asked rhetorically.\n\n\"How the fuck did you get in here?\" Michelle demanded angrily. \n\n\"Please calm down, Mrs First Lady,\" Russian President Vladimir Putin said stoically. \"I used the side door.\"\n\n\"There's a side door to the Oval Office? I didn't know that. How did you know that?\" asked Barack puzzlingly.\n\n\"Um....that's not important right now. I know we don't see eye-to-eye on most things. I'm just here to say I can defeat Kim Jung-Un in a dance-off. Those are his rules, correct? His opponent has to be another world leader. Well, I've been dancing all my life. Jazz, tap, hip-hop, ballroom...you name it. I can win, and if North Korea honors the terms, they'll disarm their nuclear missiles and join the UN, ensuring peace in an otherwise volatile region. There's what you want, isn't?\"\n\nBarack stared at Vladimir suspiciously. \"I'm guessing you want something in return.\"\n\nVladimir simply smiled.\n\n\"How about a big box of cigars?\" said Barack. Vladimir kept smiling. The American president sighed in frustration and offered to stop supporting Ukraine, lift economic sanctions on Russia, and pull the US military out of Eastern Europe.\n\n\"Barack, you can't be serious!\" yelled Michelle.\n\n\"We have no other choice,\" conceded the president.\n\n\"And I'll also take that box of cigars,\" said Vladimir smugly. \n\n\"Fine, goddamn you.\" Barack arose from his desk and shook hands with the sneaky Russian. \"We'll fly to Pyongyang in the morning.\"\n\nThe dance arena was the main floor of the Rungrado 1st of May Stadium in central Pyongyang, the largest of its kind in the world. 150,000 Norks and foreign dignitaries had come to see the most momentous dance contest in recent history. Television cameras broadcast the spectacle around the globe. By the flip of a coin, it was decided that Putin would dance first. \n\n\"You got this?\" asked Barack.\n\n\"Nigga, please,\" answered Putin.\n\nThe Russian president had already ran onto the dance floor before Obama could angrily retort. The American president directed his aide at the sound booth to \"play the fucking mixtape\" with unmasked fury.\n\nPutin stood in the center of the arena. All eyes were on him, including his opponent, Kim Jung-Un, who laughed dismissively at the old man for daring to challenge him. Then the music started. It was a medley of songs that spanned most popular genres. Vladimir danced accordingly with perfect grace and precision. He twirled, he backflipped, he \"dropped it like it's hot\". He linedanced, spun on his head, he flawlessly quick-changed into tap shoes and tap-danced for part of his routine. By the end of it all, the crowd was on its feet, applauding loudly, and jumping with excitement. \n\nBarack merely stood there, his jaw to the floor in bewilderment. Kim Jung-Un, noticeably distressed, excused himself from the stadium. Eventually, word came down that North Korea's Dear Leader had forfeited the contest, conceding that Vladimir Putin was \"all that with a side of kimchi.\"\n\nThe North Korean dignitaries honored the terms, and they gathered with all the foreign dignitaries in the center of the arena and signed the disarmament treaty on the spot, to the thunderous applause of 150,000 people. President Barack Obama was immensely confused by all this, but he was satisfied that peace had finally come to the Korean peninsula, albeit in the most absurd way possible. ",
"\"You heard me, any one of you. Hit it boys!\" Kim Jong swiftly gestured out with his left hand to a laptop connected to turn tables in the hall of the UN. Joe Biden was standing behind it with one Beat By Dre on his ear. The sound of \"Billy Jean\" filled the White House ballroom, as Kim Jong took a Michael Jackson stance and began tapping his right foot, almost as a taunt. \n\nPutin strutted out into the middle of the dance circle, hitting a kickass moonwalk back into the crowd. Un had a puzzled expression for four beats, when Putin came powersliding through Angela Merkel's legs, back into the center of the floor. \n\nUn called for his sunglasses, as things were now serious. Nobody powerslides on the Glorious One. Un kicked his right leg out, quickly shaking his foot to the outside then in, before setting it down and grabbing his Harmonious crotch. He humped to the rhythm, receiving a raucous applause from the crowd. Putin moonwalked back into the crowd, and out the door, never to be heard from again.\n\n\"Hold one just one minute\" Obama said. \"I'll take you on, but I get to choose the next song\". Un nodded in agreement.\n\nObama handed Biden a note. Biden read it and winked at Obama. \n\n*Teach me how to dougie, teach me, teach me how to dougie*\n\nObama stepped forward, waving one hand over his head followed by the other. His knees moved in seemingly opposite directions of his hips, but somehow it was all to the rhythm of the beat.\n\nObama turned to walk away, when Kim Jong began to mimic the exact dance Barack had just done. It was perfect, majestic, even. Then Un dropped his hips all the way down to the floor, popped back up and made a slashing gesture across his neck. As Barack began weeping into Michelle's broad shoulder, the crowd was going nuts.\n\nLeader after leader challenged the Esteemed One, and each failed. Angela Merkel's \"Single Ladies\" dance gave Un a run for his money, but his lean and shoulder dips were technically flawless. Nelson Mandela's ghost had tried to out-Electric Slide Kim Jong Un, but Un proved it couldn't be done. Matteo Renzi made a mockery of \"The Hustle\" that shamed all of Italy and it was looking as if all hope was lost.\n\nThat's when Her Majesty, Queen Elizabeth the second, whispered something in Biden's ear and made her way to the center of the circle. As soon as the first note of the song played the crowd exploded. \n\n*\"Back that azz up\"* Un thought *let's get to twerk*\n\nUn's pelvic thrusts, rotations and gyrations were as sexy as they were powerful. When he dropped down to the floor Sigmundur Davíð Gunnlaugsson fainted. While watching Un dance, even DJ Biden had to momentarily question his sexuality. \n\nHer majesty took to the center and once she started twerking that 88 year old ass, the crowd fell silent. She moved in the most beautiful, dignified manner. She even put the balletic motions of Miley Cyrus to shame. To say it best, she was a fine motherfucker when she backed that ass up. Un graciously conceded defeat by hiding under a table for the rest of the party. So today we acknowledge our Queen for backing that ass up and bringing us one step closer to world peace."
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[WP] You didn't know your travelling buddy is the world's most dangerous serial killer. Slowly, he begins to show you his true colours.
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"I sat down to enjoy the complimentary breakfast just as my friend came into the lobby. His face was flushed as he looked around for me. \n\n\"Finally, I found you,\" he said. \"Look, we need to get out of here.\"\n\n\"Why?\" My fork scraped the plate as I scooped up a mouthful of eggs. \n\n\"We just do.\"\n\nThe thoughts and questions of what I should do raced through my mind. Normally, we would be gone by now, and this was messing with his routine. \"I just want to enjoy the breakfast for once. You really should try these eggs!\"\n\nHe shook his head and put his hand on the table. \"No. We have to go! We never stick around for breakfast.\"\n\nIt was becoming rapidly apparent that he was definitely guilty. My suspicions began when I read an article of a dead family in a hotel. The monster always took out entire families that were traveling. A married couple with a kid or two. Or an old man with his adult children. At first, I chalked it up to coincidence. By the third time I wanted to give him one more chance to prove to myself it wasn't him. Now because of my denial, another family was dead. It made my stomach turn, and I fought to keep my eggs down. \"Well, this time I do.\"\n\nA bead of sweat travelled down his forehead. His eyes darted around. The lobby was conspicuously empty of people save for us two. It made me even sicker as I realized he must've wiped out every room last night. \n\nIt had to be the perfect deal for him to be with me. We never stayed in one place for very long, and always gone by morning. This would be the first time he was reckless enough to kill everyone though. Which meant there was nobody around to see him pull aside his jacket to show me his gun. \"Let's go. Now!\"\n\nI swallowed. It couldn't be too long until the staff did house keeping or wonder why nobody was requesting room service. I just needed to buy time. \"What are you gonna do, shoot me in the lobby in front of the servers?\"\n\n\"Not my style.\" He covered his weapon before opening his suitcase. A machine gun rested inside and my heart jolted. \"I don't leave witnesses!\"\n\nBullets peppered my flesh and blood soaked my clothes. I was rapidly getting cold as I lost all strength to even hold my fork up. Servers screamed and ran. He turned the gun on them and filled them with bullets. Dishes shattered as they hit floor. Heating trays clattered to the ground. The room grew increasingly dark as the psycho reached into my pocket to take my keys. There was no strength in me to even ask him not to. ",
"***\"So, this last building here is famous for really brutal murders. Real fascinating stuff, isn't it? I wonder if people are drawn here because it has some kind of pull or if they do it to try and immortalize themselves as part of this legend. It's got a charm to it, that's for sure,\" the man said.*** \n\n*\"Man, you sure do love these places. Can't blame you, I know I've been pretty caught up with anything related to killings in the past. The whole subject area is really interesting. It all actually made me consider being a psychologist back in college. It's a world-changing view to be able to get inside the head of a killer, but I didn't think I'd ever be able to keep it up for very long.\"*\n\nHe smiles at me with those pearly white teeth of his. Man, he's really got everything down and perfect. He has really great methods of keeping up with everything, especially this far out.\n\nI'm quite glad I found him on my travels. It really does get lonely after a while. Nice to have a fellow train-hopper with you these days. He's helped with the dumpster diving in the bigger towns and he's got a knack for finding stuff in a pinch. I usually leave him to his own devices. Every time he'd come back after we hit a patch in the road, he'd have clean and fresh clothes for the both of us. I have got a few tricks he doesn't. You learn a thing or two when you're pushing your luck most days just to scrape by.\n\n***\"Hey! Mr. Day Dreamer, you there? Come on already. We're going to be off-schedule. You know how much this gathering means to me. We have a good 600 miles left to go, and I'm not going to miss out on my bi-annual shenanigans. Besides, there's a few places I know you'd enjoy as much as I do.\"***\n\nWe trekked along this road for quite a long time. It wasn't exactly a tourist destination, but I was pretty surprised at the lack of cars around here. The sand blew with the dirt in a cascading wind, one that pushed along all the scattered leaves.\n\nIt was around dusk by the time we finally were able to hitch a ride in this 40 something year old man's van. I was a bit hesitant, even after all these years of living on the roads. It's never a bad tendency to have. It was nice to be wrong again. The ride was quite pleasant. Ezekiel engaged the man in conversation while I sat idly, taking in the last picturesque moments of the day. What a wonderful town.\n\n____\n\n**The trip's going swimmingly. We've visited all my top picks so far without a single mishap. Jason's proved to be a valuable asset. As much as I may think I know my way around these parts, this one's always got a few tricks up his sleeve when it comes to making it. I love a good survivor.**\n\n____\n\nI woke up to find myself laying on a bed that had been made from some newspapers and clothes. Curious, I don't remember even getting out at Richardson, where the man said he'd take us.\n\nMy eyes struggled to adjust to this newly introduced darkness as I got up, squinting as my eyes greeted a faint light overhead. I stumbled around trying to see if Ezekiel was around or if he had left to go scavenge. I found all of his things next to another makeshift bed. Hopefully, this meant he was at least close by. Heading to my right, I turned the corner to see a faint outline of a man, illuminated ever so slightly by a blinking street lamp. Tilting my head, I tried to adjust my vision again. I strained my eyes, attempting to make out this indecipherable figure. Unable to do so, I decided to go on ahead. It's not like I'd just come across Brian Moser or anything.\n\nI soon found myself in the company of my friend, who was hunched over by a dumpster. I called out to him, not even shaking him and that iron composure of his. I could see preparing a street rat for some kind of meal with that ivory handled, carbon-steel knife of his.\n\n*\"Hey! Hope you save some of that poor bastard for me, you son of a bitch,\"* I said with a chuckle. I stopped to find him eating that thing raw, his whole face covered in crimson blood.\n\nMouth agape, I stammered out a hushed sentence: *\"W-w-what the fuck dude...\"* \n\nI stood there in awe of what I had just seen.\n\nHe looked at me with a face I'd never seen before. He was seething with rage, though he did attempt to hide it. I know him too well to fall for a half-assed veil. There was much more to this than any one else would ever consider. It's a rat sure, I won't lie by saying I haven't killed some to eat before. Who the hell just eats a raw rat, seconds after taking its life? \n\n***\"Oh, come on, it's not like you haven't seen a guy enjoying a steak tartar before on the television. This is no different. Regardless of the creature, it's just meat to be consumed. I gave it the honor of dying by my own hands instead of rotting out in these streets, slowly succumbing to the torturous nature of life. It would thank me if it knew.\"*** \n\n*\"The nerves are probably still firing off in the thing for christ's sake man! At least give it a little time,\"* I said, holding back my puke. \n\nWhat did I get myself into with this guy?\n\n____\n\n\n_____\n\nIt's been 2 weeks since that day I saw him eating that thing in the alley. Man.. It's still so messed up to think about. I haven't gotten over it since, especially with the changes I've seen in him. He's taken to giving less to me whenever he goes out. It probably would sound crazy to an outsider looking into the situation, but there's not a single way you'd come back with a snack for supper when we're in a town with more than its fair share of shitty diners.\n\nOur relationship has gone so downhill. We used to be pretty good pals. Not so much now though. I hate that I have to depend on him though. It'd be great if I could leave, but I can't make it in parts I don't know well. It's pretty obvious something in him has changed drastically, making it harder to stick around. Like when you go back in time and breathe in the path a butterfly is taking, putting it just a tiny bit off center and ruining your own understanding of how things should be. What's that called again? The Domino Effect or something?\n\n*\"Zeke, how much longer are we gonna have to walk this town? We've got things to get to, don't we? I thought you had something big to do.\"*\n\n***\"Look, quit your whining. It's not like this is your first time stretching your legs. I've got a car I can use for us around here somewhere. I've just got to find it, unless you'd prefer that we instead walked the remaining 400 miles?\"***\n\n***\"Yeah, that's what I thought.\"***\n\nBehind him, I rolled my eyes and sighed in my head so I wouldn't disturb his majesty's search efforts.\n\n*\"Look, it's been hours since we last ate and I know that I'm pretty hungry. I need something to eat. Not going to be very easy to grab food once we're in the middle of the Hidden Village north of where we are west of East Brooklyn, okay?\"*\n\n***\"Ugh, fine. I'll get something together for us to have. Go start up a fire and get the plates out. I'll see about getting the local cuisine. Just stay put and have that pan nice and ready for me.\"***\n\nOf course he's the one to go out and get food again. I've no doubt that he's just stuffing his face on the way back. Whatever, at least I'll get a cooked meal this time instead of having to eat the last few chunks out of pot roast soup cans. Maybe this time he won't stare at me while we eat with those eyes of his. It's all he's been doing whenever I pay attention. \n\nI wince when I feel something puncture my neck. Great, last thing I needed was for a fucking scorpion to come along. Weird though, I'm ~~felans~~ feeling kind ^of fu^n ~~amsn~~ ny....\n\n______\n\nI awoke to find myself getting slapped repeatedly by Zeke. I still felt fuzzy for whatever reason. Couldn't adjust well to the light in this place. Sounds blurry. It's too bright to feel. Can't move. \n\n*\"Hope you enjoy,\"* I heard. Who was that speaking?\n\nI jolted as much as I could in response to a su^dde^n jab, although in reality, th^e reaction prob^ably looked lik^e a twitch....\n\nI w^as a fish out o^f breath, ^slowly dying on the shore, feebly fl^apping ab^ou^t to tr^y ^and ge^t back i^n my element. \n\n\n",
"\"...And this one is my favourite, TARDIS blue. I'm glad we stopped at the Crayola factory, it was really fun.\"\n\nGood Lord. It's been three hours and he doesn't shut up. When I found him on Craiglist he just said he needed hitchhiker buddies, not that I was to be his personal babysitter. This is what I get for travelling with strangers from the internet.\n\nI look at the time and sigh. That stupid trip took all of our money and now we're stranded in the middle of the desert without anything to help us. There's not even... oh, there's a road. Looks like a highway; maybe we can find a truck driver there who takes us. We walk towards it and stand there for a while.\n\n\"Hey,\" he says, interrupting his rambling for once, \"I just wanted you to know that I've been having a lot of fun with you. It's been some time since I had a friend, and I really appreciate how you've treated me. You can count on me any time.\"\n\nDamn, that came out of the blue. \"Uh, thanks,\" I say. I feel a bit bad now for thinking shit of him. \"Hey, there's a car. Let's try and stop it.\"\n\nWe signal it, and the driver stops. It's an old man in an expensive suit, and everything about him tells me he was not planning on driving through the desert tonight.\n\n\"Hey, boys,\" he greets us, \"do you need a lift?\"\n\n\"Sure,\" I respond. \"We're going to the capital, but wherever you can leave us is fine.\"\n\n\"Well, I'm going east, but I can drop you in the city; you'll get more luck there.\"\n\nWe thank him and get in the car. I got the back seat, and this is an old car so there are no belts. I mean, there's not really much to crash with but you never know. I hold onto my seat.\n\nThe town seems to be further away than I expected, and we get to talk a little. The old man's name is Aaron, and he's going to see his son, who was recently in an accident and is now hospitalised. The doctor says they need blood donors ASAP so he can make it. Aaron asks us our blood types; my partner says he's A+, and I'm B-. I pity the man, he seems like a good guy. My pal is really animated, though; he seems like he's completely oblivious to the fact that we're travelling with a man whose heart is destroyed.\n\nAfter a few hours I start to worry. We haven't seen anything in miles. Aaron is confident we'll get there, but I'm not so sure anymore. This is the hottest night I've been through, and Aaron suggests we at least grab some drinks from his trunk. He's pretty confident, for a man whose child might die tonight. Alas, I go to grab the cooler from back there. Before I can take it out, though, I see something.\n\nThere's a drop of blood on the lid.\n\nI open it up, horrified at what I see. There's like twenty organs in individual Ziploc bags in there. Before I can scream or do anything, I feel a stinging pain on the back of my head. After that, everything is black.\n\nWhen I wake up, the sun is starting to rise. My head still hurts, but I forget about it when I see Aaron on the floor, with two crayons stuck in his eyes and a scalpel near his open neck. His suit was covered in blood, looking like it had been multiply perforated, maybe a couple hundred times. I stand up and try to run away in terror, only to be greeted by my partner, who's now wearing the old man's gloves and grinning like a child.\n\n\"Hey there, buddy!\" he says, embracing me like we hadn't seen each other in months. \"I was worried you wouldn't get up. The mummy back there wanted your kidneys, so I had to deal with it. The good news is, now we have a car with half the tank full!\" he shakes the dust off my shirt. \"Now, we're going north, right?\""
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[WP] The guardian angel was thoroughly surprised when a demon mauled the assailant.
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"Branciel gave a yawn, stuck on guardian duty again. David wasn't a bad guy to be stuck with. Righteous, yeah, but not arrogant or smug about it. The perfect guy to look out for. On his way to give a speech at a fundraiser for a charity to help war orphans.\n\nSuddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of anger, hatred and bitterness. Branciel was shocked. Never had he felt such strong emotions from a human before. Attuned to his charge, he wondered how anyone can feel so poorly for David, then he realized his error. This hatred was not directed at David. This was the taint of a demon. Focusing his senses past the demon taint he saw it. Desperation. Jealousy. A human with dark thoughts toward David. Some mugger in the alley. But a mugger with a guardian demon apparently. He had heard rumors of this. A soul so twisted that it gets a demon assigned to protect it much like his assignment to protect David.\n\nBranciel drew his sword and quickened his steps up to David, who turned at the sound. \"Run,\" he ordered his charge. \"There is danger here, and you are needed.\" \n\nDavid, confused, obeyed. There was a strength and urgency in Branciel's voice that is not easily denied. A familiarity in his face and demeanor made David feel a sense of trust to this sword wielding man.\n\nBranciel stepped into the alley. Sword at the ready but unlit. Flaming swords are a bit flashy, and demons hardly fear fire anyway. He heard him before seeing him. A sickening gurgle and the mugger is dying in a pool of his own blood. Branciel stopped, shocked. He expected the demon to be powerful and imposing. Instead it was small, like a six year old girl. The demon wiped its blade on the would be muggers' shirt.\n\n\"EEEEEK!\" It squealed, charging toward Branciel. A quick slash blocked the leaping monstrosity's blade, sending it careening into a dumpster with a loud crash. The demon quickly clambered out of the trash and fled to the street, its weapon forgotten. The angel stared dumbfounded, marvelling at the cowardice of demons.\n\nA heartbeat later Branciel came tearing out of the alley, sword raised. 'Idiot!' He berated himself. 'The conniving creature got between you and your charge!' He spotted the demon, supernaturally quick it was almost upon David as the man turned around. Branciel's breath caught in his throat as David, sweet trusting soul that he is, drops to a knee and opens his arms, completely unaware of the threat. 'I may not be able protect you, David. But I will avenge you,' the angel swore to himself.\n\n\"Help!\" The demon cried in David's arms. \"He's going to kill me!\"",
"It was the night before Christmas. A light snow fell, just enough that it coated the sidewalks and trees, but not too windy or chilly to enjoy the beauty of such a night. Under the soft glow of streetlights a child walked alone, staring in awe at the way the snowflakes swirled and drifted in the gentle breeze, completely unaware of the angel gliding above her or the man that had been following for several blocks. \n\nThe angel knew.\n\nIce accumulated behind them at the angels will, the touch of a feather making the sidewalks treacherous for the man trailing behind them, but he nevertheless crept along in the shadows. The angel was waiting, unwilling to stray too far from his charge he preferred less direct methods of deterrence. As the man crept closer, the angels’ wings stirred enough to send an icy wind at him, but it did nothing to slow his pace. His hood was pulled over his face, which was gaunt and hollowed from years of drugs and fights. His eyes, sunken and purpled, knew death, knew its withered hands as his own. If he succeeded in his intent, this would not be his first. \n\nAs the streetlights grew farther apart the child gradually became more aware of the soft footfalls of the man, her pace quickening. The angel stirred as much snow as he could to shield them, but in vain. The man had caught up and was only a few steps behind them. As the angel turned to confront him, a hot gust of air blasted from an alleyway and blew the man over. The angel watched in complete shock as a demon clutched at the man’s chest, sending tremors through his body not unlike a seizure. As the angel watched the demon turned to him, motioning to the child, who was fleeing almost halfway down the block.\n\n“Go” the demon rasped, in a voice like steam rising from asphalt, “I will take him”.\n\nThe angel watched only a moment longer and flew to the child, who had collapsed a block down in a stone archway, nearly in tears and shaking in fear. As he stood over her in comfort, he watched as the demon pulled the man’s soul from his body, casting it down to the center of hell, deep below. As it stood, the snow evaporating around it, it looked to the sky, as if in hope for repentance of long forgotten sins. Its wings stretched, broken and torn, singed nearly to the bone, and the demon faded away in a hiss of flame and smoke. \n\nIn all of his many years, he had never seen this. The angel looked to the sky, and the snow ceased to fall. \n",
"Johnny's knife sang as its blade pierced the rapist's gut. Blood spurted onto Johnny's cerulean mohawk and pierced face as Katherine, her shirt in tatters, watched on.\n\nAbove the three mortals, invisible to all of them, were three beasts. The first was a blood-red hellhound. fire burned in its six eyes and it lashed its twin tails as rows of serrated teeth tore furiously into the rapist's guardian. Floating above the Rapist was a black Ram; its coiled horns twisting gruesomely into the hellhound's fiery skin. Its hooves kicked and writhed as the dog's flaming claw slashed open the demon's belly and eviscerated its entrails. Standing next to and consoling katherine was a lamb. Ascalon's Three eyes peered worriedly at her charge as she whispered prayers. \n\nJohnny's knife stabbed its last as the hound tore the Ram's head off. With a heavy sigh, both possessed and demon fell back into the underworld. Johnny dropped the knife and stumbled back into the alley wall, his legs buckling beneath him as he trembled under the weight of his justice. Katherine crawled over, leaning against the wall next to her good samaritan.\n\nWhen the two caught their breath they talked. Thanks, forgiveness, tears, names, life, even God was mentioned. Ascalon eyed the Hellhound suspiciously. It was licking its wounds above Johnny when three of its eyes drifted down to the lamb. All six widened in shock.\n\n\"Ascalon?\"\n\nDemon voices don't change. Their appearance does; It fluctuates with their power and sin, but an angel's voice never wavers. So it was that after 600 aeons Ascalon recognized her old friend.\n\n\"U...Uriel?\"\n\n\"It's been a long time.\"\n\nAscalon's third eye slammed shut as her remaining two glowed with rage. \n\n\"I never thought I'd see you again.\" Uriel continued.\n\n\"Don't talk to me, Blasphemer! You betrayed HIM! You betrayed me!\"\n\n\"Ascalon you know why I did it. I explained it to you but you were so deep in that tyrant's pocket you wouldn't listen.\"\n\n\"You dare to call HIM a tyrant? You, who worship The morning star?!\"\n\n\"He's lied to you, Ascalon. Or at least he would, if he didn't rewrite the truth every time he needed to. Hell is nothing like that. I joined Lucifer for my own reasons. How conceited Jehovah is! To actually think that separation from him was a punishment! What do you think we were fighting for?\n\n\"DON'T YOU DARE TAKE HIS NAME IN VAIN!\"\n\n\"Ascalon, calm down. I understand that you're-\n\n\"You understand?! How could you possibly?! You betrayed me. I saw Michael himself cut you down at the battle of Jupiter!\"\n\n\"Ascalon that-\"\n\n\"You're despicable. how could you be so selfish? I thought I knew you. I thought-\"\n\n\"DO YOU THINK I ENJOYED IT?\"\n\n\"...What?\"\n\n\"I saw you too. Do you think I took pleasure in your anguish? Did you think I reveled in throwing aeons of joy away?\"\n\n\"Of course! Only a demon-\"\n\n\"I may be a demon, Ascalon, but I never stopped being Uriel. I don't know how you deal with it. How can you call it free will if he makes all the choices for you?\"\n\n\"Freedom is the liberty to do what you were meant to.\"\n\n\"I envy you, Ascalon. I'm glad that you can live with a given meaning, but that's just not enough for me. It never was.\"\n\n\"How can't it be? HE's infinite! You could come back with me. Please, HE'll forgive you. HE'll solve your problems with a snap of the fingers. Things can be like they were...\"\n\n\"Isn't the demon supposed to tempt you? I appreciate it. I love you, And I almost love him, but his existence is simply too constricting on mine.\"\n\n\"...I'm sorry.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry too.\"\n\nThe flames consuming the lamb and the hound died, as the two looked at their charges. Katherine and Johnny were calmer now. Sirens wailed in the distance as the two spoke of life.\n\n\"Mass every Sunday, volunteers, cares for others...\" Uriel said, \"She's a fine Christian woman.\"\n\n\"Yes.\" Ascalon responded. \"I'm very proud of her.\"\n\n\"Johnny ain't that bad either. He's a rebel, and he can be a little shit sometimes, but he knows what he believes in.\"\n\n\"He killed a man at 17. He'll carry that for the rest of his life.\" \n\n\"I know. But don't underestimate the strength of sinners. They carry burdens the saints couldn't dream of.\"\n\n\"The best saints were the worst sinners, you know.\"\n\n\"Yeah, but then they got help from the man upstairs. Sinners like me and Johnny have to carry it alone.\"\n\n\"Why?\"\n\n\"Because it's the only way we know how.\"\n\nPolice arrived. Katherine was given a blanket and hot cocoa, while Johnny was slammed into the hood of the cruiser and cuffed. Katherine threw the cup away and started beating on the officer.\n\n\"Oh no, KATHERINE! STOP!\"\n\n\"You know Ascalon, maybe you should let her.\"\n\n\"But she's sinning!\"\n\n\"For another person? Did you ever think that maybe Grace is a more meaningful sacrifice than a life?\"\n\n\"Don't be ridiculous.\"\n\n\"Hey, I'm just saying. Maybe if Jesus had given his perfection instead of his life, he could understand these humans.\"\n\n\"HE understands them more than you or I ever could.\"\n\n\"But can he do it without cheating?\"\n\nAscalon was silent.\n\n\"Hey Ascalon?\"\n\n\"Yeah?\"\n\n\"I know we disagree about Jehovah's methods, but I still consider you my friend.\"\n\n\"Hate the sin, love the sinner.\"\n\n\"In Hell we say, 'Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer,' but same thing really.\"\n\nthe lamb laid down with the lion as Katherine was pushed, smiling, into the police cruiser with Johnny. Uriel sat down next to his friend, both tails wagging. Ascalon's third eye opened.\n\n\"I love you, Uriel.\"\n\n\"I love you too, Ascalon.\"\n\n\"We should probably follow them. They'll need our guidance.\"\n\n\"I've got dibs on her left shoulder. You can sit on the right.\"\n\nAll three of Ascalon's eyes rolled, just like they had 600 aeons ago.\n\n\n\n\n",
"*It looks like me...*\n\nThat was my first thought when I finally caught up to my charge. What was more interesting was the fact that my charge *was carrying a daemon.* That is, a greater demon. Those things aren't supposed to be allowed to walk the earth.\n\n*Hmph. No use in waiting* \"What are you doing here, daemon?\" I called \"This is **my** charge. Begone, foul beast.\"\n\nIt quirked a wing at me. \"Excuse me!? I was protecting my charge! I need him for a plan that'll take about thirty years to foment.\" Oddly, there was no sulfurous smell in the air, which I had been taught was the default state for all demons. It chuffed smoke and flame, raising an eyebrow in expectation.\n\n\"Well, this is my charge, too. John Smith, born in Cedars Sinai on the 6th April 1992. I have to save him from the end of the world in 2032.\" *Ugh. Now I have to fill out paperwork with Argus again. Curse him!* \"I need your name for the Divine Bureaucracy. Again.\"\n\nThe daemon stared at me for a few seconds. I tensed, waiting for an attack.\n\nIt didn't come. The daemon shrugged. \"You really don't know- Oh by the Merciful *Gods*, that's just precious!\" the daemon cackled, the laugh not at all clawing its way along my wings.\n\n...I didn't twitch. Something just tickled me, is all.\n\nThe daemon's laughter died down. \"Well, most of those who know call me Sven, for short.\"\n\nThe name struck me like the gongs at the Pearly Gates. *Oh,* DIO*. That one.*\n\nWell, if I wasn't in trouble before, I most certainly am *now.* ",
"That thick stink of blood hung in the air like a pair of pants hanging from the line in the mid west. She wasn't late, no, the young angle was right on time, arms still outstretched, white suit stained red as the black, twisted beast stood. Arms hanging well pasts it's knees, crooked and twisted bird like legs attached to hooves and a long muzzle not unlike a dog. Crimson tears dripped from it's claws as it turned to the young woman in pearl clothes and huffed. Breath so hot the air before the beasts nose flashed to steam with each huff. Eyes bright and yellow glowing in the darkness of the night just as the woman's golden hair and bright green hues did the same. The two stood, eyes locked, no more than a foot of space between the two. Slowly the woman's hands drifted down to her sides, her back slumping. Again, the demon snorted, sniffing the air around the angel before it smiled. \"Things...\" It's voice rumbled from behind a frozen mouth, \"Things like this, they happen.\" He let out a small laugh. \"The man you were sent to guard was a good man. The man laying on the floor now, was as well.\" And with the end of the demon's little speech, a dark aura of black and red tendrils surrounded him, slowly pulling him into the void, leaving the woman, the angel, alone with the stench of death floating in the air, like an almost deflated balloon.",
"Ariphale hovered above his person feeling, as so often he did, disappointed. As a guardian angel, he was required to keep him out of danger. But this proved to be impossible; this one put himself in harm's way constantly, and seemed pretty oblivious to it. \n\nAt this moment the danger he was putting himself in involved it being dark, and there being a street corner, and on that corner being a man with a not-insignificant amount of cocaine, which Ariphale's person had always wanted to try. He had gotten the contact through a one of the seedier of the several work-friends that Ariphale did not approve of.\n\nAriphale watched as a small, filthy-looking man came out of an alleyway behind his person with a knife. The angel began a rapid descent to try to influence events somehow, maybe knock the blade away and give his person time to run (it wasn't like the old days, when he could just bring out a sword of flame and remove the assailant's head, sadly) when from the same alley emerged what Ariphale immediately recognized as a demon of Hell. \n\nBefore Ariphale could act the demon sprung onto the assailant with its grasshopper legs and pinned him. The man screamed obscenities (which hurt Ariphale's angel ears) and received three punches to the face, one each from the demon's right fists. The creature then sunk his enormous tusks into the man's chest and devoured him. \n\n\"AAAAAAH FUCKING SHIT! JESUS WAAAAUGH\" yelled Ariphale's client before bolting down the street.\n\n\"Demon of the Pit!\" Ariphale demanded of the beast. \"Explain yourself!\" \n\nThe demon focused it's 17 eyes on the angel. \"Gorespit, if you please.\" \n\nAriphale rolled his eyes. Demon's names were so stupid. \"Why did you eat this mortal, Gorespit? You look to be of the Lower Places of Hell, why are you even on this plane?\n\nGorespit gaped in surprise. \"Are we the first you have seen? Hell has become a sparse place for souls, angel, just as has Heaven. We starve for their sustenance in our dank abyss. We opened the gates a fortnight ago, and my kind took to the mortal streets and have been claiming our own.\" \n\n Ariphale clasped both hands over his mouth. \"What! You're literally stalking and killing people?\" He felt extremely silly asking the next question, but it left his mouth the instant it entered his brain. \"Does... does He know?\"\n\nGorespit waved his enormous lobster claw dismissively. \"Of course, what a stupid thing to ask. He told our lord we were allowed, as long as it was only in protecting those who were not ours.\" \n\nThe color drained from the angel's face, or would have, if angels had blood. \"So... He... He made you guardian angels.\"\n\nGorespit's three mouths laughed raucously. \"Why yes, angel, I suppose he did!\"\n\nAriphale glowered. \"Why? Why are you able to affect them? Why do you have so much power here?\" \n\nThe demon smirked nastily. \"Because they are afraid of us. Their fear is stronger than anything they ever invented to dissuade it. They will always believe in us, angel, or something like us. They try to talk themselves out of it, but we go too deep. You lot though... well...\"\n\nAnd with that Gorespit sprung to a nearby building, grabbed on with his tentacles, and climbed out of view. \n\nAriphale stared after him, a sour taste in his mouth. \n\n*Anything they ever invented...*\n\nDemon logic. They held that the mortals created the Heavens and the Pit and the denizens therein, that their very idea that both must exist had made it so. And for some reason the idea always stuck in his mind like a splinter. He comforted himself with the idea that Hell is backwards, so of course they have it backwards.\n\nAfter some minutes he flew into the air, and found his person. The night wasn't over.",
"**H**e could tell something had been off for a while, that's what he hated the most about his job: something's going to happen, soon, at any given moment and there's absolutely no way of telling when, what or who. It put your senses on high alert, sight and hearing became clearer, smells and odors were sharper and easily identifiable and, if you focused enough, you could almost feel the subtle changes in the air caused by movements. It was infuriating. Being a Guardian was hard enough without your nervous system going into overdrive. This time, however, had seemed different; which only made his senses even stronger, of course.\n\nThe Guardian had had a simple enough time with his latest charge, Andrea; she was 24 and had initially moved to the big city for college. He'd been proud, of course, you invest your time to the care and protection of someone and you feel their achievements are your own. He'd been told that feeling would never quite disappear, and he was glad. Being fairly young for a Guardian, Andrea being his second charge, he was still getting used to everything. Guardians are born and live relatively normal lives among the humans, although they live longer, when they turn about 25 they basically stop aging. Obviously, not all humans have a Guardian and not all Guardians are keen to take on the role, but they are drawn to certain people and the instinct to help guide and protect them is strong. Andrea had always shown to be respectful of her rules and limitations with made her a relatively easy charge, this made his feelings of alarm even more worrisome.\n\nThis morning she had taken to her usual routine, out of the apartment early for her jog and had now stopped at the corner diner for her breakfast. She had finished and had started walking back to her apartment and he, of course, followed. It was when he exited the diner that his alarm went on full alert. It didn't take much to know why, just a quick glance of the scene. There, in the cafe across the street, he saw the demon sitting at a table near the window, a single cup in his table, staring intently at Andrea. He was, of course, gorgeous, as all powerful demons where. The Guardian had no trouble making this note, living as long as a you do you tend to appreciate the beauty and pleasure in everyone, regardless of gender. Demons were different, especially this one, his physique was on the slimmer side, though athletic, his face however, was somewhat rugged, as if his features had been sculpted out of stone. \n\nWith growing fear he watched as the Demon left the cafe and took to the sidewalk. The Guardian quickened his pace, trying to close the gap between himself and his charge. He looked over to the Demon in time to see him cross the street, making a beeline for Andrea, who was absentmindedly talking on the phone. The Guardian tried to reach her without anyone taking notice, but the Demon had been faster and his stomach sank as he saw the Demon taking the last strides towards Andrea. The Guardian did not expect what happened after. He watched as the Demon walked past Andrea, sidestepping her with an unintentional, gentle bump. She had barely noticed. In a series of graceful and swift movements, the Demon strode ahead of the Guardian's charge, grabbed a man that was walking in the opposite direction, towards Andrea, by his shoulders and shoved him into the left-hand alleyway. His movements were so quick and fluid they almost seemed commonplace even to the Guardian.\n\nThe Guardian was almost running as he dodged the busy-looking people, including Andrea, that were between himself and the alley. Once there, he flinched at the site before him. The man the Demon had intercepted lay sprawled lifeless on the floor, blood splattered on the floor and walls, the demon in front with his back turned to the entrance, panting. Once the initial shock had gone, his sharpened eyesight caught a glimpse of something glowing. With amazement he saw the blood in the scene shimmer gold and realized it was ichor, the golden blood of Celestial beings like himself. In the man's hands, he was clutching an intricate looking knife and a picture of Andrea. For the first time, he looked at the Demon in the alley, he was turning around to face the Guardian and he saw how his needle-like claws and teeth retracted back to normal. With his forearm, revealing a bloody hand, the Demon wiped some of the golden blood from his mouth. He looked directly into the eyes of the Guardian and between his panting said:\n\n\"You and I need to talk.\"",
"\"I'm not going to be there in time, I need to hurry.\" I muttered to myself. This was my first client as a guardian angel, and I cannot afford to screw this up. The man I am supposed to be protecting, John, is going to be assaulted in approximately 12 minutes. Now it would be easy for me to teleport to John, as you would assume I could, but I haven't earned my wings yet. The process in earning wings in convoluted and much more difficult than it should be. Ultimately, the process isn't worth the 5 minutes you usually save. However, today is a special day in heaven. A rapture is being discussed by the higher ups, so all of the corporate angels are trying to figure out which humans are the best suited for heaven. I'm not worried for John as he is a morally just man. Never stolen a thing, attend church on a regular basis, and the other things deemed necessary for entrance into the pearly gates. I now have 3 minutes to go into the alley where John is going to be assaulted by a member of his own race. Disgusting in my opinion, but maybe it can be justified in their eyes. As I approach, I get a distinct stench of sulfur. A demon. I can't take both at the same time, so I wait in the shadows watching for John and the assailant. John approaches and stops to tie his shoe, unsuspecting of what happens next. \"I'll blow your brains out if you don't empty your pockets now and give me your phone and all your money, and I mean it too! I'm not fucking around here!\" Said the mugger aggressively while pointing a large gun at John's face. \"I'll give you everything, just please don't kill me, I have a family!\" Just as John began to empty his pockets, I get a strong whiff of sulfur. I stay in the shadows, waiting to see how this plays out. The mugger begins to pick up John's belongings, before being thrown against a wall by an unseen force. Surprised, I come out of hiding to see what happened. As I come out, the demon is in full view. Both John, the mugger and the demon make direct eye contact with me, as I stand there startled and unsure of what to do. Apparently my presence didn't faze the demon, as he continued to murder this man before John and me. The demon turned the mugger to dust, and in anguish I wipe John's memory to preserve the sanctity of his mind. John carries on outside if the alley and continues his route home as though nothing had happened. I turned to the demon prepared to fight, \"Why did you do that? What did you gain?\" I interrogated him aggressively with full intent to rip his head off, yet I was unsure why I felt the need to do so. \"He owed me a debt. He couldn't pay by the normal means, so he paid with his life. The other pesky human was simply in the way, and served no purpose to me so I paid little attention to him.\" Explained the demon. Surprised that the demon didn't waste the lot of us for fun, I asked more questions. \"Why didn't you kill all of us?\" He explained in a puzzled tone, \"I'm not a monster you know. I'm surprised you didn't kill all of us, you know, with you angels being morally corrupt and the evil ones.\" I couldn't understand. Was the demon taught that angels are demented and the demons are morally just? I left without saying a word, pondering this idea on my commute back to heaven. Years later, I still have no idea what to make of that say. The demon had surprised me greatly with his motives and ideology."
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[WP] You are a heroin addict. Today is the day that you decided to get sober.
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"\"Eh, fuck it, what do I have to lose anyways?\" \n\nI insert the needle into my skin, still jumping every time I do it, but embrace the feeling of the cold metal inside. The rush drowns away all my worries. Heroin keeps me distracted from the real world so that I can finally live in the real world.\n\nThe effects start hitting me, everything is getting dark, darker, da---\n\n***\n\nI wake up in a dark, messy room filled with an awful stench.\n\n\"What the fuck is happening?? WHERE AM I!?\"\n\nI sit up to find myself in the middle of the room, cold and tired and barefoot. I look around and find nothing but a small TV a few feet ahead of me and a strange panel covered by a case to my right. This must be a dream, right? Suddenly the TV turns on with a loud screech and then silence. I notice a familiar face, or rather thing. A puppet, painted like a clown, pops up on the screen.\n\n\"Hello Roger, I want to play a game. You do not know me, but I know you. You waste your life away living in a fantasy world and avoiding the truth.\nThe rules of this game are simple. To leave this room, you must follow the rules. The door to your left is locked. The only way to escape is by pressing the correct button on the panel to your right. For each wrong button, you will be punished. To access the buttons and remove the case, you must stand on the platform immediately in front. If you try and press all of the buttons to chest your way out of this like you do your life, the consequences will be dire. Live or die. The choice is yours.\"\n\nWhat the hell did I get myself into? I stand up and look at the panel and platform. I guess I'll just have to stand on the platform and hit the button, right? Shouldn't be too bad.\n\nI walked up onto the platform and saw the case move off the panel with the button. Unfortunately, there were 10 buttons. I hit the first, nothing. Second, still nothing. Out of no where two needles stabbed into the bottom of feet. I try the third, and after a few seconds another needles shoots up into my right foot. \n\nSeven more buttons to try. I can't hit all of them or I won't be able to walk anymore. My blood starts running down the platform and onto the floor. \"Which button could it be,\" I thought. I couldn't take it anymore. I'm not used to dealing with my problems, what the fuck do I care. I proceed to press all of the remaining seven buttons. A small key pops out of the case and I grab at it happily. \n\nAs I get my hands on it, 6 more needles shoot into my legs and drop me to the floor. I can't walk anymore, but I have the key.\n\n\"What happening?!\" I feel my power lessening. The ability to move my body is disappearing. I am still awake, but dead on the outside. I hear footsteps coming towards me.\n\n\"You chose the easy way out again, Roger. Game over.\"\n\nThe man walked away, leaving me to rot motionless on the floor.\n\nRight then and there, I felt angry. I wasn't ready to lose after everything i went through. Everything that happened was because my addiction. \"When I get out of here, I'm never touching heroin again\".",
"There was no last time getting high, no long thought process at all. There was only suffering from people I cared about that I ignored, because they didn't know me and my motivations. \n\nThere were no real pleas from friends to get help, I just had one too many friend die and made the decision to get out. Even when a dude I grew up with took 3 gunshots to the back of his head while sitting in his car it didn't do it. He had fucked with the wrong people, etc. It wouldn't happen to me.\n\nThen I saw another friend lose his job. Then another overdosed from swallowing cocaine after getting pulled over by the cops in an attempt to avoid arrest. Fortunately that was enough to make me take a step back and realize what I was doing to my own life.\n\nEven though I was going to work every day and doing my job well it was only going to be a matter of time before the inevitable crash. I was slipping deeper and deeper into that world and the further you get in the harder it is to get out. Waiting another day could be one too many. It has to be done today, or it will always be put off until tomorrow.\n\n\n\nNote: This is based off some personal experiences with various hard drugs (heroin, X, cocaine) so apologies if it is too far off the prompt. Feel free to remove it if so.\n\n",
"Ah, goddamit, another day.\n\nMaybe I'll sleep a little longer; no, no can do. I'm awake. Humm. So sore. That smell again. I'm never washing these sheets, am I?\n\nHey there's still some bread in the cabinet. Oh snap, there's even some leftover butter in the fridge. A nice breakfast. Humm. The sun feels so warm on my legs.\n\nMan this pain on my ankle is really starting to get to me. -Excuse me ma'am, would you like to buy a magazine and contribute to our project? Alright, have a nice day, now. Maybe I can soak my ankle in warm salt water and do those stretches Jennie taught me. Humm. How can I score some salt? I miss Jennie. Maybe I'll ask in the supermarkert.\n\n-Oh hey George, yeah, nice to see you too. Yeah, still selling the magazines. Not yet today, but maybe later, gotta have some faith right? Hey man, let me ask you: is there anyway I could get some coarse salt? You know I hate asking you guys for things but I got this pain on my ankle and I want to soak it in salt water.\n\n-What? Oh yeah? Humm. Yeah, no, I didn't know that. Cool, I'll try that. Thanks for the tip!\n\nGoddamit I shouldn't have asked George. Man, I can't even get salt. Didn't Roman soldiers get paid in salt? I'll be damned if I'm not fighting a war here. \n\nI wonder what Jennie's doing. This grass feels good; lying down feels good. The sun feels warm on my face. It'd be nice if Jennie was here lying with me. I think she would like that.\n\nThat's cool, those kids playing that guitar over on that slope. They look like they have things to do, how come they get to just be out here in the middle of the day? Isn't today, like a weekday? Well, what day is it again? They look like they got things to do, how come they are out here on the grass too?\nWhy do I think I belong here? It makes me sad. I can't scratch this scab anymore it's taking so long to heal it's getting infected. Can they see the bruises on my arms under the long sleeves? My head hurts. Humm. I could do a hit. Do they see the puncture marks on my veins just by looking at my collarbone? The sun is making me sweat and my head is starting to itch. My teeth are so tight.\n\nI'm glad Jennie isn't here. I'm glad nobody's here to see this. I can't stay, I'm leaving.Go home. No, go talk to Mike, he'll let me pay later.\n-What? Oh, no man, no problem! Really don't worry about it, I love dogs, he didn't scare me at all. Did you big guy? No you didn't! You're just a big puppy! Want me to throw you the ball? \n\nWow. I hadn't stretched my arm and shoulder like that in a long time. The blood rushing through my muscles feels nice. My heart is so slow and out of rhythm. I feel sick. Wait, don't faint. Stand, stand by yourself. There. Just walk it out man. I'll go to Mike's later. Right now just keep walking through the park, maybe find some water.\n\nDucks are funny animals; sometimes they seem so royal and other times so goofy. Alright, God bless these public fountains. The water feels so good on my lips. I can feel it going all the way down my torso, and around my lungs. I've been up for hours and my body is just now waking up.\n\n-Excuse me, sir. Would you like to take a look at our magazine and maybe contribute to our project?\n\n-Oh yeah? Elijah? That's a cool name.\n\n-Me, I'm from Tulsa, man.\n\n-You take care, and keep it under a hundred!\n\n\nThe city looks really nice from this window. This part of the city, at least. Humm. I didn't go to Mike's; it's late, I don't want to go now. Humm. I wish Jennie was here.\n\n",
"The needle pierces my skin, but it's a welcome pain. I press the plunger, and breathe in as liquid paradise enters my veins. \n\nA deep sigh, and I'm in never-never land. Job? Fuck that. Wife? Screw her. Kids? God, my biggest regret. \n\nThe wave lasts a long time, but sadly I have no sense of time, so it seems as if I've only blinked - and now I need another hit. \n\nThe needle beside me is empty. So is the one beside that. I scramble to the other cornors of the room - empty empty empty all empty what have I done where is more where is more where is more \n\nThen, even with the pall of the drugs leaning over my burned out mind, I get one clear thought. \n\n*This has to stop.*\n\nAnd... It really does. Shit I need that job. Sarah's been trying hard, and the kids... Hell, the kids don't know any better. \n\n*Maybe they would if you were there for them.*\n\nI frown. Maybe. I blow out a breath. This is it, then. The day I step away from all this. \n\nA groan, and I get to my knees. Just as I'm about to stand up, something catches my eye. \n\nAnother needle. And this one's half full. \n\nI pause. Then reach for it. \n\nIt's in my hands before I can stop. \n\n*...Maybe next time...*",
"Today is the day I will quit.\n\nNo more deals with a shady stranger\n\nNo more spending money I do not own.\n\nNo more living each day in danger\n\nNo more burdens that I've sown.\n\n\nToday is the day I quit.\n\nI will make my son proud\n\nI will have a future.\n\nI will hear my name yelled in the crowd\n\nI will never have another suture\n\n\nToday is the day I will quit.\n\nMy arms start to ache\n\nMy knees hit the floor.\n\nMy promises start to break\n\nMy body wants more\n\n\nToday is the day I will quit.\n\nI just need another hit\n\nI just need you to understand I'm sorry\n\nI just need a little bit\n\nI just need you to understand that *I'm sorry*\n\n\nTomorrow is the day I will quit.",
"\"'-Ma'am your going to have to stand back' is what the doctor tells my mom as the nurse shoves a tube down my throat. That's the last thing I remember - being butt naked on a hospital bed waiting for death to beat me into submission. Hell, Death wouldn't have to beat me, I'd probably give up instead. God damn...I wished I could take it all back, but I know I cant. \"\n\n\"That's okay Marvin. That's why your here at this rehabilitation center, to make things better\"\n\n\"You know what Joe? Fuck you! I couldn't care less about making shit better. All I want is my mom, and now she's gone from my life forever.\"\n\n\"Marvin, calm down I'm only trying to help you. The first step to overcoming your addiction is-\"\n\n\"Admitting I have one? Meditating? Making amends? Forgiving myself? Yeah right, maybe if I wish it hard enough it'll go away, right Joe?\"\n\n\"Hey Marvin if you cant help yourself then maybe that's why your mother disowned you\"\n\nI looked at Joe for a little bit and then slowly got up. I walked right passed him and straight towards the door behind him. Then I turned around and whipped the chair out from underneath him and proceeded to smash his skull into the wooden floor until his sobs cut out and the life left his eyes. I laughed, Joe always did say mood swings was one of the worst parts of an addiction. I drop his pathetic lifeless body from my fists, wipe my fingerprints off him and the chair, and make my way home.\n\nI live five minutes from the Rehab center which is well within walking distance, but I much rather prefer to take a car. However, on this particular occasion I decided to walk. After about three minutes in I started thinking about Joe and how stupid he looked laying there in his pool of blood. Maybe this is why my mother didn't want me anymore? Maybe this is why everyone gave up on me...except Joe. Joe was probably the only one that gave a shit about me, and I just murdered him. The mood swing sets in again and all of a sudden I start shedding tears. I try to hide them, embarrassed other people would see a grown man crying by himself, but the sadness was soon overcome by sleepiness. In fact, I began to feel lethargic all over. My arms drooped and my legs dragged. My neck became soft and my eyes began to roll in my head. I lose my breath so I sit down on a bench and fight the sleep. Eventually I lose complete consciousness over my own awareness and slip off into a deep nap.\n\nMy eyes open again, except I'm in my house. \n\n\"What the fuck kind of dream was that?\"\n\nIts funny how I ask myself these kinds of stupid questions. I already know what kind of dream it is. Hell, I know these kinds more than anything. Its the one that makes you relax, until of course it blows out your spinal cord and you start convulsing and choking on your own throw up. Yup, with one glance I look down and see the needle stuck deep into my arm which began to bleed profusely due to the overused vein.\n\n\"Fuck, I just relapsed\", was the last thing I said before I replaced the needle with a new one and went back to sleep.",
"The alarm sounds, loudly, waking me from my sleep. I am soaked from head to toe and as I left my head from the pillow, air hits my wet scalp and I shudder. I cover my face with my hands, trying to wipe the sleep away. As my fingers drop from my face, I notice my hands are wet, but not with sweat. They are sticky and smell of copper, not salt. My eyes adjust to the growing sunlight in the room and the alarm sounds louder now. The alarm buzzes and I look from my hands to my pillow. My eyes dart at what soaks, what stains, my bed. The alarm grows louder, more persistent and one heavy, red-covered hand slams down on it. Blackness.\n\nThe alarm sounds and my eyes creep open. Staring in to the fluorescent light overhead, I remember where I am. The persistent buzzing continues to bleat from speaker perfectly located almost right above me. \n\n\n\"Lock down, ladies,\" the short, grey-haired guard shouts above the cacophony of the buzzing alarm and inconvenienced women. \n\nI remain perched safely in my top bunk. Raising my arm, toward the sickly yellow light, I can make out the prick of the needle from my last shot. The fading red dot, the target I should never have hit. \n\n\n\nMy eyes trail to my fingertips. \n\n\nI used to always say, \"What will it take to get me clean? What will it take to make me shape up and start being a mom to my kids? What will it take?\"\n\n\n\nStaring at my fingertips, that seem to be on the hands of someone else entirely, I see the last traces of blood that won't seem to wash away.\n\n\n\nI now know what it took to get me clean. It took everything. ",
"That was it. That was the last hit, the final rush. Now I'm off of junk, for real this time. I'm giving that life up now.\n\nOf course I wouldn't have started down this path had I known I'd end up here. I still remember my first hit. In the months that followed I've blown my savings, lost my job, alienated my friends, and threw away my life in exchange for that magic powder, that overwhelming pleasure that only heroin can give. I watched my best friend overdose. I'm doing this for him. No more stealing. No more addiction. No more belts around my arm.\n\nI'm moving back to the real world. I'm choosing freedom.\n_________________________\nFeedback is welcome."
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No more "missed opportunities". We have evolved to hear a beep sound whenever we approach people who we find sexually attractive that are also sexually attracted to us. [Consider the implications for the dating scene, fidelity, etc...]
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[WP] We have evolved to telepathically beep when we see someone mutually, sexually attractive
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"The day that Tinder died began just like any other. I woke up, threw on yesterdays clothes, a crumpled plaid button up with the sleeves rolled to my elbows over a white undershirt untucked over a pair of ripped jeans. Then headed out my apartment to the corner coffee shop. The streets were crowded with folks embarking on their morning work commute. Not me, not today at least. It had been a couple weeks since my last gig, music is a hard business. It takes a lot of discipline, stuff I don't have. \n\nI arrived just as two women were leaving. I paused and held the door open as they passed through sneaking a peak at their asses as they passed by. The blonde on the right turned to look back as she passed catching me mid-gaze in the process. Knowing I'd been caught, I averted my eyes and flashed her an awkward and apologetic smile. She paused for a second and then gave me a small smile back. BEEP. The suddenness of it caused me to look around and blink a few times. The girl was gone before I managed to gather myself. \"That must have must be some sort've a caffeine headache\", I thought to myself. \n\nThe echo of the beep faded from my memory as I queued up to put in my drink order. \"What can I get you today?\", came a cute voice from in front of me. I looked up to see a short brunette barista smiling up at me. BEEEEP. \"um.. I'll have a coffee. Black please.\", I managed to get out while disoriented by the sudden noise. BEEEEEEP. It seemed to be getting louder. What the hell was it? \n\n\"Are you OK, honey?\", the barista asked concernedly. \n\nAll I heard were beeps.\n\n",
"I don't understand. \n\nGirls keep looking at me and smiling, are they laughing at me? Do I have something on my shirt? I frantically brush at my chest, trying to dislodge whatever might be there. I check my face again and again in the mirror, pale and wide-eyed from panic. \n\nI've started to notice the other girls, the ones who aren't as pretty. They walk past me and seem to get angry, as if I've done something offensive to them, but I don't know what it is. \n\nAt lunch, I find Mark, he'll know what's going on. \"Do I have something on my face?\" I sign to him, \"all the most attractive girls in the office keep laughing at me, are they talking behind my back?\"",
"**\"LGBT star reporter unveils: Pope is gay!\"**\n\nBored out of my mind, I skim the headlines on my newspad. As always. It's sex and violence all over. Well ... mostly sex nowadays.\n\n**\"Alleged rapist defends: She bleeped me!\"**\n\nNot that anything really changed. Well, the theory of evolution got a huge update. Spontaneous concurrent mutations in just three generations. There were a couple hundred cases all over the world at roughly my age. It was already uncommon for my son not to have it, and my grandchildren all have that mutual bleep gene. Suck on it, Darwin.\n\n**\"Rock star decrypted: Jake Dax is an omnibleeper!\"**\n\nMost of this crap is just not amusing anymore. My wife had it, and she left me because of it. The bleep manifests at 15, but the first generation didn't know what it meant. But it didn't take long until the true meaning of the bleep was discovered. And of course, she found the one guy who is into mid-forties that likes boring vanilla sex with tremendously younger men. And humanity? Well, humanity goes on.\n\n**\"Brain scans show: Dogs bleep, too!\"**\n\nOh, the scientists were having the time of their lives. And the televangelists. And the divorce lawyers. My best friend got married to a hermaphrodite midget he bleeped at the circus. It's nothing to be ashamed of. It never was, in my opinion. But nowadays ... even the religious right comes around to it.\n\n**\"93 old woman duped by false bleep-confession\"**\n\nThe bleep is even heard if the other person does not have the gene. The explanation is a weird combination of hormone theory, pheromone correlation and esoteric technobabble. Some scientists say we're only a decade away from making mind reading possible. Others are less optimistic. They say it'll take 5 years, max.\n\n**\"Tragedy: I bleeped the woman the moment she jumped from the roof!\"**\n\nAnd nobody ever bleeped for me. Or they do not want to say it. I wouldn't know which would be sadder. I will die old and lonely. I'm okay with it. I don't like anybody anymore, really. I don't even miss my wife, at least not sexually. I always felt there was more. But this gene? Now it's sex, sex, sex.\n\n**\"First true AI created at MIT&G\"**\n\nFinally, an interesting article. I click it. *bleep* What the ...\n"
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[WP] A 4th of July show with fireworks as told by a soldier with PTSD.
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"Red flash, 2 o' clock. There goes Jimmy's legs, blown to pieces. He wanted to be a marathonist. \n\nWhite flash, loud bang. There was only a child in this room. I think she's permanently blind. I can't do anything for her, and if she survives this war she'll be handicapped in this shitty corner of the world. \n\nGreen flash, 10 o' clock. It's the extraction point. Anthony was killed by a trip mine just as he joked about \"getting out of this hellhole\".\n\nMultiple small flashes, 11 to 1 o' clock. We're trapped. Lifting our heads to check the situation is a death sentence. I want to sleep, I've been awake for 30 hours now. Everything hurts.\n\nA stream of fire: Flamethrower. The silhouette of a human enveloped by flames, running haphazardly and the sound of them shrieking until their vocal chords burn to ashes. Unrecognizable. No one will ever know if that body is their loved one, family, friend.",
"It was beautiful - the sky lit up with explosions, more fabulous than anything that had ever hit our squadron. Bits of ash landed beside my chair, resting on the picnic blanket that hosted the bevy of children I was watching while my son got the rest of the chairs from the car. The fireworks waited for nobody however - they accelerated, becoming more and more fabulous as more and more shot into the sky. Green, red, blue, whizzing and banging, coming at us -\n\nSuddenly the scene wasn't beautiful, it was wrenching. I remembered the banging in the air as my brother fell. My heart rate increased, my palms grew sweaty. I looked at my grandchildren, unmoving and rapt as they stared into the sky, but all I could picture was the immobility of my dead comrades. I looked into the ground and slowly doubled numbers, stealing thought from the runaway anxiety I was experiencing.\n\n*\"2, 4, 8, 16, 32, 64, 128, 256, 512, 1024, 2048, 4096, 8192... 16384, 32768..., 65536?\"*\n\nIt was a routine, to the point I was able to remember the first numbers rotely & always started struggling at the same point, but it was a calming one. I took a deep breath and made myself look at the bouquet of sparks illuminated in the sky. I breathed out. I smiled. I reached down and tusseled my grandson's hair. After an episode like that, I always reflect on how lucky I am to be here, with all my children."
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[WP] You and your best friend have been surviving the zombie apocalypse together. Suddenly, a zombie catches your friend off guard, biting them.
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"Here we are. *End of the road*. \nI know what's going to happen, he knows what's going to happen. *The inevitable* \n\nWe managed to conceal ourselves safely in an old shed we stumbled across while trying to escape what seemed to be a never ending horde of flesh eating undead.\nI sat on the floor with my back against the door, just in case the lock on the door gave way. He sat next to me, my friend, my best friend since I was 8. He knows more about me than anyone. He was there for me when I ran away from home. He was there with me when I got my first tattoo at 18. He taught me how to drive for godsake, even though we were the same age and he knew as much about driving as I did. This guy helped me get my first girlfriend, and I helped him find his wife, though it only lasted a year.\nWe were more than just friends, we were brothers. And now, my brother just sat here, blood rushing from his shoulder, like a thousand memories being drained from his body.\n**Goddammit** why couldn't it have been me. Why couldn't I have been the one to enter the house first. We were so close, he was so excited. The moment we reached his parents front garden he let out a cry, calling there names, racing to the front door. I should've stopped him. I let him go. I let him break open the door to his parents house, only to be greeted by a man wanting to eat his flesh. And that's just what happened. Its my fault, I blame myself.\n\n\"I blame myself\". I say, softly under my breath. \n\"It's not your fault, man, it was all mine. I shouldn't have been so stupid\". He replies. He's fading, but he can still talk, barely. \n\"I shouldn't have let you run off\". \n\"What were you gonna do? Stop me? I needed to know if my parents were alive. You couldn't stop me from that\". \n\"I just.. I don't want you to go\". I burst into tears. I try and contain it, but he just means so much to me, it hurts see him like this. \n\"It's ok man, I.. I've lived my life well enough. 23 is a good age to go, con.. considering these conditions\". \nWords cant describe the emotional pain I'm feeling. I cant speak, I just cry. \n\"Its OK. honestly. why are you crying? I'm the one dying here!\" He gives a light chuckle, as do I. \n\"I'm gonna miss you bro. you mean a lot to me\". I say, barely getting the words past my choking tears. \n\"I'm gonna die. that's what's happening. but it's ok. Listen to me brother, you need to leave before.. before I.. *turn*.. understand? I'm not gonna let my last moments with you be more painful than they already are. I need you to leave and I need you to survive.. For me.\" \n\"I'm not leaving you!\" \n\"You will!.. that's what I want, for you to be alive\". \n\"I don't want to leave you. not yet, not here, not now. this isn't how its supposed to be!\". Tears cover my face now, it feels like there's a goddamn razor in my throat. \n\"Well its how it is gonna be!\" \nWe both break down. I wrap my arm around him and hold him tight. My best friend, my brother, dying in my arms. \n\"Listen, I don't want to be one of them, I don't want to come back as a threat to world\". He says, confident but scared. \n\"What are you saying?\". \n\"Do you still have my dad's gun on you?\" \n\"No way! I will not let you die like this!\" \n\"And turning into one of them is any better?! give me the gun.. give me the gun then leave, I don't want you to see this.\" \n\"You don't have to do this..\". \n\"Yes I do, if I want to die with dignity.. now hand me the gun\". \n\nI hesitantly handed him the gun. Images ran through my mind, images of what's gonna happen I leave this shed. I didn't like this. This isn't how our friendship is supposed to end. \n\n\"Thanks, now please, leave..\". \n\"Goodbye bro\". I say through broken tears. \n\"I will see you again, don't forget that\". he replies. \n\nI stand up, opening the door to the outside. It seems quiet. \nBefore I leave I turn to him one last time. \n\"I love you man\". The last words I say him. \n\"I love you, too\". The last words I hear him say. \n\nI shut the door behind me, I couldn't stand the thought of the undead feasting away at his lifeless body. I began to walk. I don't know where, but I walk. Away from the shed. \n\nI hear a faint gunshot ring behind me.\n\n\n",
"\"Shit.\"\n\nI zip up my backpack, throwing Billy a can of baked beans. He yells out in pain as he jumps up to catch it, and it falls to the ground, sending out a loud CLANG. \n\nWe wait. Billy whimpers.\n\n\"Jesus, Billy, it's just a scratch.\" I walk over to the can and pick it up. \"Look, let's just get back to base and we'll see what we have to patch you up.\"\n\nSomething hard taps me from behind. It's Billy. He holds out a gun.\n\n\"Come on, Reed, we don't have time for this... let's just end it no-\"\n\n\"What the fu- are you fucking serious now?\" I snatch the gun and place it back in Billy's holster. He starts crying. \"Man the fuck up! It's just a scratch? What would your mother say if she saw you in this state?\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" he blabbers out.\n\nOh right. She's dead.\n\n\"Fucking hell. Come on, it's an arm injury.\"\n\nBilly cries out as he pulls his shirt sleeve up. It looks bad, but nothing out of the ordinary.\n\n\"Bill, it looks like it's bleeding. Sooner we get back the less blood you'll lose. And pull that sleeve back down-\" I reach and he scampers away. \"Oh, fucking fine, Mr. High Horse. Be that way. Come on, sun's setting.\"\n\n\"Don't you see?!\" he yells out in fury.\n\nWe wait. Billy sniffles.\n\n\"Jesus, you're going to attract a horde the more you keep this up. Come on.\"\n\n\"I... Reed.\"\n\nI look at him.\n\n\"Jesus fucking christ, don't you dare pull a monologue on me now-\"\n\n\"It isn't a scratch.\"\n\nIt sinks in.\n\n\"Oh.\"\n\n\"Thing just up and sunk its teeth into me.\"\n\n\"Well.\"\n\n\"It bit me hard.\"\n\n\"Shit.\"\n\n\"Tore some right off.\"\n\n\"Fuck me.\"\n\n\"If you didn't shoot it it may have gotten the rest of my arm.\"\n\n\"Dang, son.\"\n\n\"Well, aren't you going to do something? Say something?\"\n\nI stare blankly at him. \"I've been trying to do that for the, what, I don't know- the entire fucking apocalypse, maybe? Jesus Christ, the Holy Ghost, Mary, and God, get your ass up and let's patch that wound up.\"\n\nBilly takes the pistol out of the holster again and starts to hand it to me.\n\n\"Okay, okay,\" I say as I push his hand back and place the gun in its rightful place. \"Let's... let's not jump to conclusions.\"\n\n\"It's already been jumped to.\"\n\n\"Billy, cheer the fuck up. You're not dying on my watch, okay? I'm not going to shoot my friend in the middle of some random-ass street in the middle of the fucking zombie apocalypse.\"\n\nHe sniffs. I can't really tell if my persuasion tactics are working, but I persist anyway.\n\n\"Listen, uh, we've come this far, right?\" I say, summoning up what machismo I have left in me for a righteous inspiring speech. \"You... me... we've survived up to this point, right? Uh... that means... we shouldn't throw it all away, right?\"\n\nHe yells out. \"WHHEHEEEH.\"\n\nWe wait. Billy swallows, hard.\n\n\"I'm going to die, aren't I.\"\n\n\"Woah, woah woah!\" I sit down next to him. \"What if the cure's just up the street corner? I mean, we shouldn't just pass it off as an infected wound right away.\"\n\n\"He BIT me, Bill. Do you know the survival chance of a victim who's been bitten?\"\n\n\"Um.\"\n\n\"I remember Mr. Jordan talking about a case of Kuru in some South American village in the '80s.\"\n\n\"Right, yeah, Jordan!\" I chirped, trying to get Bill off of this topic. \"If Jordan was alive right now he'd want us to, uh, live! And get back to the base! So let's do just that!\"\n\n\"He says that it started with a monkey,\" Bill continued, ignoring me. I put my head in my hands. \"The money bit some woman coming back from her trip to the well.\"\n\n\"Come on, Bill.\"\n\n\"The Kuru disease, to not have infected the woman, would have to NOT enter the bloodstream, which meant that all of it had to be poured out of the wound. 1% chance. If it did make it to the bloodstream, it would have to not pass into vessels that reached the brain. That meant that the blood flow must have had been just right in order to divert each and every single virus cell away from the vessels that connected to the brain. 0.1%. Finally, if it did make it to the brain, the vessels must have not made contact with the brain itself. Almost impossible, as all blood flowing to the brain makes contact with it.\"\n\n\"Bill, c-\"\n\n\"Don't you see, Reed?!\" Bill suddenly stood up. \"I'm infected, INFECTED. I-N-F-E-\"\n\n\"Okay, okay, you don't have to spell the entire fucking thing ou-\"\n\n\"C-E-D.\"\n\nI cleared my throat. \"You missed a 'T'-\"\n\n\"I DON'T CARE!\" Bill paced in circles. \"My life's over! I'm a goner! I'm bit, I'm infected, and I'm going to turn in... what, an hour?\"\n\nWait just one second here.\n\n\"Bill, Bill, calm the fuck down.\"\n\n\"I can't, I can feel it tracing through my blood... ughhghg\" Bill started convulsing.\n\n\"Bill, hey, Bill, when were you bit?\"\n\n\"Urhrhrggg... I'm a zombie, kill me, kill me!\"\n\n\"Bill! BILL! Stop doing this! When were you bit?!\"\n\n\"O father who is holy in art thou heaven\"\n\n\"BILL! BILL! INFECTION TAKES 30 MINUTES TO MAKE ITS ROUNDS! WERE YOU BIT 30 MINUTES AGO?\"\n\nBill suddenly stopped.\n\n\"What?\"\n\n\"Bill... when were you bit?\"\n\n\"I... does it matter?\" He took the pistol out again. I didn't bother pushing his hand back.\n\n\"Bill, please tell me.\"\n\n\"I... lunch. Like, noon, I don't know. Reed, you gotta do this for me, okay...\"\n\n\"Bill. 30 minutes. That's the time it takes for you to turn.\"\n\nBill's face turned all white. He slowly put the pistol back in its holster.\n\n\"What.\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"Damn.\"\n\n\"Come on, Bill.\" I gave him a hand. He pulled on it and stood up. \"Let's get that wound patched up.\"\n\n\"Righty-ho.\"\n\nAs we started to walk back, I suddenly remembered something.\n\nJordan. He talked about diseases. And stages. Diseases took stages to progress. Just because you made it past the first stage doesn't mean you'd make it past the further ones.\n\nI flicked the safety off my rifle as I ran to catch up to Bill."
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[WP] You are a Jewish man who died in Auschwitz. You go to the after-life and meet God.
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"\"I'm waiting,\" I said patiently. Now I had all the time in the world. God looked at me quizzically, not understanding the venom behind my voice. \n\"Waiting for what?\" God replied.\n\"Really?\" \n\"If it is about-\"\n\"Let's start with my new born, Rachel. When she was born I could not be happier, her laugh brought life back to my house, after you took my little Sarah away. Simon was finally coming back to himself. I remember life sparkling in his eyes as he played with his little sister. But you could not help yourself could you? That night I lost Hannah and Rachel. The agony and the helplessness I felt when Rachel was ripped from Simon and thrown into that oven. Do you know that I still smell the burning flesh? They, those monsters, shot Hannah point blank while she helpless tried to save her little miracle. Rachel was only a month old.\" \nGod shifted uncomfortably avoiding my gaze. There was no place to hide. \n\"You're sick, you do know that right? No rational, omnipotent being would allow for such atrocity. Let's continue shall we. Simon died in the gas chamber, after they wore him out. Last time I saw my 14 year old golden boy he looked 20 years older. Growing up he played doctor. His dream was to save people. After I lost my Rachel I wondered, would she have become a painter or a dancer...I cannot even imagine what kind of fate my parents were served.\"\n\"So my lord, I can continue this forever, there were more than 11 millions of us that have been slaughtered, I can ask you about and each and one of them. I'm waiting...\"\n\"For WHAT?\" God almost shouted. \n\"Now that your existence has been established, beg for my forgiveness.\"",
"\"FUCK YOU!\" \n\"I'm sorry...\"\n\"I DON'T ACCEPT YOUR FUCKING APLOGY!!!\" \n\"I know.\"\n\"FUCK! MY FAIMLY!!! FUCK! EVERYTHING I LOVED! I GAVE SO MUCH!!\"\n\"What can I do to help?\"\n\"YOU CANT!!! DONT YOU SEE THAT?!\" \n\"I do.\"\n\"YOU DO NOT!! THATS THE FUCKING PROBLEM!! IF YOU DID, YOU WOULDN'T HAVE TO APOLOGIZE!!\"\n\"You're right.\"\n\"I DONT NEED THIS CRAP FROM YOU, I GAVE YOU MY HEART, THREE DAUGHTERS AND A SON. I GAVE YOU MY SOUL. THIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE! YOU ARE JUST AS GUILTY AS THEM!!\"\n\nThe Lord God looked at His feet, nodded, sagged his shoulders and wept."
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[WP] Write something deep. Really deep...
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"\"Go to the deck, Jeanny\"--Jeanny goes to the deck--\"Look at the ocean, Jeanny\"--Jeanny looks at the ocean--\"What do you think is inside, Jeanny?\"\n\n\"Water. Fish. The rotting remnants of sunken ships. Dunno.\" Jeanny pauses. Looks up. \"What's the fucking answer?\"\n\n\"The answer is nothing.\" Dane sweeps a broad hand over the sun-stricken waves. \"We can only see the surface. What is inside is no more than a collection of hypotheses constructed by our own visual perception and imagination, and the belief in those of others.\"\n\n\"What are you smoking? I know damn well that there's a whole fucking world down there in the ocean. A fucking ecosystem, mate. Look how deep this motherfucker is. Deeper than Mount fucking Everest is tall, I'll have you know.\"\n\n\"Ah. But the point is as long as you're above the surface, the ocean is not deep at all.\"",
"A single acorn comes into focus, spied through the eyes of no sentient being or mortal. Deep in the inky blackness of the abyssal void that is the universe lies a sole planet. Humble in size and lonely in its orbit around an unremarkable star like a monstrously vast yet isolated hydrogen atom. It's entire surface is coated in an uplifting evergreen shade of paint that upon closer inspection promptly resolves itself into a heavenly kingdom of plants and innumerable forests overruled and allowed to flourish by the forces of nature alone, with no possibility of the exploitation or destruction that so frequently happens on occupied planets.\n\nA single acorn descends majestically from the dizzying heights of a grand old oak tree of unparalleled stature, only to gracefully land and gently roll along the soft, grassy undergrowth. It now sits upright, enshrouded in the purest of green life - healthy and vibrant - after being lovingly caressed and carried adrift by a nurturing wind to grow a suitable distance away from its magnanimous father. Time has no meaning on such a world, it ceases to exist. The acorn grows into a tree rivaling its progeny in size instantaneously - replenishing the beauty of an eternally untainted world and proceeding to continue the unending cycle of such splendor with infinite quickness. All is in perfect balance.\n\nPerhaps the most beautiful things of all are those which lay unobserved, hidden for evermore in the deep expansiveness of space or stored within the soul of an individual gifted with sentience and the powers of intelligent perception - whom externally appears to be insignificant, yet could turn out to hold more beauty in the eyes of another than could even be contained on a completely unexplored world in an unfathomably faraway and deserted realm of existence.\n",
"The hole was vast, infinite really. From Johns vantage point at the top of the well it seemed to stretch on forever. \n\n\"How far does it go?\"\n\nChristine, his climbing partner, didn't satisfy him with her answer. \n\n\"No one really knows. Deep radar scans can't reach far enough. Interesting fact though - the Mayans used to call it the \"wishing well\". They'd make a wish and offer a human sacrifice in the hopes that'd it come true.\"\n\n\"Wow.\" His words echoed across the cavernous walls of the pit. \"*Did* they ever come true?\"\n\n\"Must've. Why else would they keep throwing people in? Haha.\"\n\n\"In that case, if one of us falls, the survivor will have to make a wish.\"\n\nShe didn't say anything. Instead, she secured their rope to a metal hook that had been fixed into the wall.\n\nHe smiled. \"Well, let's see how deep the rabbit hole goes, shall we?\"\n\nShe looked back at him from her place by the edge. \"After you, *White Rabbit*.\"\n\n\"If that's how you want to do this, ok. *Alice.*\"\n\nShe smirked, and watched while he secured himself to the rope. \n\n\"Well, times a wastin'!\" He jumped into the abyss.\n\nHe tumbled for a moment before he felt the rope catch. He hung there, suspended above nothing. He listened for noise in the darkness as he waited for Christine.\n\n\"Are you coming?\"\n\n\"Just a moment!\" He was 30 feet down on a vertical wall and it was hard to move. He looked up, but the only part of her he could see was her hands...she was doing something....\n\n\"Christine!?\"\n\n\"Sorry about this John!\"\n\n\"Christine!?! What are you doing!? Christine!\"\n\n\"I needed a sacrifice for it to work!\"\n\nJohn tried to respond but the rope snapped, and he fell into darkness.\n\n(Criticism is appreciated!!!)"
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[FF] The last sentence of your epic 1200-page novel.
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"The fear passed into an eerie calm as I let go of my final breath: as quick as darkness came, the sounds of a buzzer erupted into my ears while I felt my brother lifting me out of a machine and he asked, \"what did you think of this trip to Earth?\"",
"The four warriors stood at the cusp of the kingdom they had been sent to restore. The dark entity Yeslie had been vanquished for the last time, and the balance of Nature was restored. Darkness went into hiding that day, Letza, the true force of malice had retreated. It would be a thousand years before the cycles were to begin once more. ",
"For the first time in ages, fires didn't burn and lights didn't shine. There was only darkness. But unknown to those who couldn't see, shadows still danced. This was their time, given to them by the mistakes of mankind, and would remain their time until another creature who lived in the light came.",
"And at some point on the long walk home he felt for the first time in his life that maybe he finally *did* understand what she liked so much about sunsets, about how she always identified with them, and he almost turned back around to tell her, but it was getting dark and he had already walked too far and maybe she wouldn't be as happy for him as he was for himself and maybe she was right and there really was nothing left to say, so he kept walking, feeling the whole way like a sunset."
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For example:
Someone wants to give an abusive/manipulative ex a taste of their own medicine
A divorcee wants to sabotage their ex's case in a custody battle
A politician wants to catch his opponent in an affair.
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[WP] You are an anti-prostitute: instead of getting paid to show someone a good time, you are paid to seduce them into toxic relationships.
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"Head is pounding and my tongue tastes like stale Coors and cigarettes. I'm covered in sweat on a yoga mat on the floor next to my bed. Smoke, cooking onions and the sound of sobbing wafts in under the door next to my head. I roll over onto my stomach and squint to see through the crack under the door. \n\nIn the living room Juliette is chain smoking and gurgling incomprehensible words under her sobs. Some John trying to console her mumbles \"But...I thought this was supposed to be fun...\" Juliette huffs her snot back into her head and gets up to stir the onions.\n\nI roll back over and check my phone. 20 missed calls and dozens of texts. I scroll through. \"I think we have something special\" \"I miss you\" \"I think we can make this work\" I flag all the conversations I won't respond to for another 3 months. That's my angle. Keep hope alive. Remind them of what we could be. Sell the dream and take the cash. \n\nI walk through the kitchen and nod at Juliette. She winks at me through her tears and I smile at the John. She wipes her tears and asks if I want to join them for dinner. I look at the spread. Burnt toast, leeks cooked in onions and a side of cottage cheese. I try not grimace. \"I'm going out for dinner tonight actually.\"\n\nJuliette's eyes turn black and she darts a nasty look at her John \"I wish someone would take me out to dinner now and then.\"\n\nThe john looks unhappy and uncomfortable and stares at the floor. Poor kid, Juliette's Craigslist ad is clearly too confusing. Probably got set up for a bachelor party present. At least she'll give him a half-hearted makeup hand job if he can make it through dinner and a 4 hour long New Girl marathon. ",
"Don't even ask me how I got into this business. What I will tell you is that I've been had this form of employment for far too long. At first it was fun as hell, ruining people lives. Being naive and carefree when I started I didn't really understand what I was doing. Did I know what I was did was bad? Of course I did, but with a job that pays as well as this one, I found ways to numb the feelings. I've been in and out of recovery clinics after my third year. Name it and its been through my bloodstream. Not amount will cover up the pain that I've caused selected men and women through over time.\n\nLet me walk you through the routine. I get clean for about a week or two right, paying the clinics in cash. If I'm using a card it's not mine that's for sure. Then when I'm good and all my agent meets me we usually go out for coffee. Over the years we've become really good acquaintances. I can't make friends doing this. I don't know if I could make friends even if I had a normal occupation. Right so agent, he hooks me up with the newest client and gives me a file on all the specifics. For an example I'll walk you through what I did with Maine Boy. He's pretty fucked up now wouldn't do him any good if I gave him his real name.\n\nSo Maine Boy case was a bit odd, hell most of the cases were. I guess you could call it special since I'm talking about it now to you when I could be some other story of like a cheating ex or some boring shit like that. A young kid no older than seventeen calls the agency and his target is another classmate at his \"my-daddy-makes-more-money-than-insert-country-here\" private school. I'm talking gourmet food served at lunch and horse riding as a class. The client wanted this kid want Maine Boy's life absolutely ruined. In the file it said Maine Boy was straight A's captain of the tennis team, and swim team, popular, in a relationship with what looked seemed to be a very attractive girl, he had mother and father that loved him. And I ruined it.\n\nWith bigger payoff the longer the con. I have to say that this was executed to my absolute perfection. I'm not proud that I did it, but damn did I do a good job. First step was easy getting into the family. The marriage between Maine's parents wasn't as strong as it seemed. I began an affair with the father which lasted a couple months then followed up with a divorce with his wife. I was at their mansion often seeing the father, but my goal was to eventually seduce Maine. Being the young lad that he was it wasn't difficult to gain his attention.\n\nBy now I'm two timing the son and the father. Phase one complete of infiltrating the family. Second phase was to sicken them. I introduced what was once left of a happy to the world of drugs. I got them hooked on everything running their reservoir dry. Drugs sucked everything out of this kid. He stopped showing up to school, got kicked off both teams, and when His girlfriend found out she dumped him. This went on for only a couple of more months. When they were in my control completely I initiated phase three destruction. Which was the easiest and most enjoyable of the phases. When they were high as balls I gave a tip off to the police, piece of cake. Oh and on my way out grabbed as much as I could. Last I heard was father and Maine were serving a few years of time. I don't like my job, not one bit. It's eating at me inside I just keep thinking on how many lives I've ruined. No time to think about that let me just escape this harsh reality with another pill.",
"If there's one thing I've learned in this job, it's that people are all bastards. Men, women, politicians, priests, they're all bastards, just varying in terms of how deeply it gets buried. \n\nTonight's mark had managed to bury his bastardry deep. Two children, ages eight and fourteen. Weekly charity work, changing up the volunteer work every week so that he could get to know everyone. And, up until recently, he had a devoted wife. For ten years she loved him like a fairy tale, right up until she found a lacy pink thong underneath her bed. \n\nShe wanted revenge, but a certain kind of revenge. She doesn't want him dead or exposed as a fraud, oh no. That's more like a hitman or a PI. I'm more of an escort, but less of a bodyguard or prostitute, and more like Charon escorting damned souls into Hell. \n\nLook at him, poor bastard. Sitting at the bar, nursing a drink, waiting on his mistress, who won't be showing up. A couple of flat tires and a missing cell phone would see to that. Instead I fluff my hair a little and put on my best 'bad girl' impersonation. I saunter over, red dress swaying in a way that was laser-focused on bastards of this particular variety. A quick check to make sure the recorder embedded in my dress is working properly, and I'm ready for action.\n\n\"Hey, stranger. Buy a girl a drink?\" I ask, innocently. \"I'm waiting on someone,\" he says dismissively, but he can't help but linger. \"Mind if I wait with you?\" I ask, turning on the charm just a little. He smiles, that was quick. \"I should warn you, I don't play games.\" I widen my eyes a bit and return the gaze. \"Who has the time?\" I ask.\n\nIt's been two minutes, but by the time this night is over, the bastard will have lost his fortune, reputation, and wife. \n\nI love my job. \n "
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[WP] write a story to help an emotionless person understand anxiety.
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"My hands are shaking. I sit for a few seconds, try to focus on my breath, like I've been taught. One mississippi, two mississippi. I see my leg twitching before I feel it, stand up and walk the length of the room three times before I sit down and try again. One mississippi. \n\nMy heart is very loud. Sometimes I wonder if all hearts are as loud as mine. I feel it slamming against my ribs, uncomfortable, as though it doesn't fit in my chest. Feel the impact. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. The blood in my veins seems to mirror my searching motion, determined to circle the small space to which it is confined as many times as possible in a short span. My thoughts too, circling, now on a tangent of self similarity. Thoughts and blood race in the brain, body paces in the room, earth whirls around the sun, sun is hurled around its own path. I sit again. One mississippi. My heart is forcing the blood to my face. \n\nIt is hot. I can feel it under my skin. My face must be red. I wonder breifly if this is unattractive before I remember I am alone. My skin, my red skin, I feel it all over my body. I am aware of how it clings to my muscles, how they cling to my bones, all of it grasping as though desparate, as though if it loosened its grip for just one second the thunk, thunk in my chest might cause it all to shatter. There goes the leg again. A few more laps, a vain attempt to contain the pressure. Surely my ribs can't take the pounding.\n\nFocus on your breath. Let it go. One mississippi, two mississippi. \n\nI feel the tears start to slip out. There is an image in my mind of trails of steam rising from their tracks, my skin is so warm surely they must be burning. I am not sad. I am not angry. I am not anything. It is a cold mechanism, no more than a pressure tank relief valve. One body cannot physically contain so much. The shaking is worse. The pressure is building. I cannot stop. \n\nI long for an emotion, something to distract, but all I have are swirling thoughts and physicality. One more desperate attempt. One mississippi...",
"That's the thing about it. It's anecdotally indescribable. I could tell you about the countless times I've ruined relationships over minute and benign instances. I could laboriously detail each and every missed opportunity spent in the confines of safety. Usually my own room. But I mean. Really? It wouldn't make even the slightest difference. That's what is so absurd about emotions. While rooted in action, they are entirely reactionary. Entirely subjective and intrapersonal. \n\nI mean I could even just write this entire paragraph as one long run on sentence focusing on verbosity instead of clarity to help best portray the type of furious and uncontrollable thoughts and doubts and remorse and self pity that go along with feeling like the world is entirely out of your control, but it's just so hard to stop and let things happen without letting each and every single thought take such control over the tributaries of each following thought creating an overwhelming current of negative connotations and whirlwinds of ego bashing.\n\nBut that too would be for naught. Words are descriptive. Emotions are not. You ever wonder why there are so many love stories? It's because no one can actually capture what it's like to be in love. The best love story gets you close enough that it feels within reach. But it never is. It will never be a complete recreation.\n\nSo what is it like to feel an insurmountable amount of anxiety or depression. Or any overwhelming emotion really? I honestly don't know. I couldn't describe it no matter how hard I tried.",
"Imagine there's someone right there next to you, holding a gun to your head. Ticking off the safety. Squeezing the trigger.\n\nYour heart begins beating faster, your mind races trying to find some way out. Adrenaline floods your brain, and every hair on your body stands on edge. You and the man are on a precipice, and every inch of your body urges you to jump, to get away from the gun no matter what. You can see the bullet entering your head, you can feel the cold barrel on the soft part of your temple. \n\nYour stomach is where you heart should be, and your heart is in your throat, and in your arms and in the tips of your finger, beating harder than you could have ever imagined, threatening to tear itself from your body and escape the rotting cadaver in which it is trapped.\n\nDeath is an inch away. A second away. A fate you've avoided all your life, an inevitable conclusion that seems now like the only way any of this could ever have ended. And you can feel him squeezing that trigger, it vibrates through the gun and into your skull, a tremor warning of what is to come, and your entire body vibrates with it as sweat coats your palms and you scream out\n\nSTOP.\n\nThat's how I feel now, staring into that room. You ask me why I'm sweating, you ask how I feel, ask what's the matter. Well that's the matter, you emotionless beast. I feel. I get scared, I cry and I laugh. \n\nNow my chest is beating like that man in that room is holding a gun to me. Waiting. Watching me for one excuse. \n\nI love you brother, and I know that you will get away with whatever you've done. But that man in there is holding a gun, and I'm terrified of it. \n\nI could lose you. I could lose my family. I could lose my very life, brother. \n\nI feel that fear *everywhere*. It is in my bones and in my blood. \n\nAnd you standing there, not even red in the face, terrifies me.",
"Everything is fine. The waitress arrives and we take turns ordering. Its someone's birthday. Some other department. I don't know them well but its nice to get out of the office. People take turns telling stories, sharing gossip. But I can tell I'm quiet. I wonder if everyone else notices. They must. I'm usually the one doing the most talking.\n\nI don't feel hungry anymore. Instead there's the overwhelming urge to vomit. I'm sure everyone else sees this too. maybe they're being polite. I'm sweating. It's cold and every breeze in the room seems to be directed at me. Am i shaking? Where should I look? I swallow hard, over and over, trying to fight my stomach. Maybe I'm just *too* hungry. I remember hearing that, I think a teacher told me in primary school. I don't know if its true. Nothing is working to distract me.\n\nFinally I stand. The chair is loud. Again I'm sure everyone is looking at me. I try to walk slowly to the bathroom. Like its normal. Like I just need to pee. When i get in the stall I hunch over the bowl but nothing is coming out. Its quiet in there. I can hear my heartbeat racing, feel it in my ears. The blood thumping like dance music 2 houses over. It could be a heart attack. This might be how I die, slumped over a toilet, clammy with sweat while just outside the intern shares a joke about the new manager.\n\nI give up my retching and walk to the sink. I cup my hands under the tap and drink water and look at myself in the mirror. My face is white. the dark under my eyes exaggerated. I don't wanna leave here. I don't want to go out. There's something wrong I can't fix. Because it doesn't exist. And when I tell myself that, it only makes it worse.\n\nIts been too long. They'll notice. I walk back out, sit at the table, a huge burger before me. I pick at it. Everyone is shovelling food into their mouths, smiling and talking. What's wrong with me? \n\nWhen we walk back to work, the sun is shining but I can't feel it on my skin. People are talking to me. I want to ask what happened, if anyone understands. But they'll look at me different. I can't bring myself to dealing with that.\n\nAll I can hope is it wont happen again soon. Sometimes its days, or weeks. Sometimes I think its gone. But wondering when it will happen again causes it sometimes. Its always looming over me, ready to strike at any moment. \n\nI'm never really safe.",
"Today is the day. The most awful day of the month - worse than tax day. Worse than the day my dearest Frederich was laid to rest. He would keep me company today. I would tote him around in a backpack if necessary. I simply don't want to be alone. No distractions. No motivations. I'm stuck with my head today.\n\nSeveral hours and outfits later, I make sure all of the locks on my door that can be secured from the outside are in place. I step outside and shudder. Is anyone out there? I creep over to the railing that leads down to my car, looking from side to side. Clear as Vegas summer sky.\n\nI bolt down the stone steps, hoping that I don't crash to my death while simultaneously clasping the lip of my sun-hat for dear life. The shade covers my face, but I wish it would make me invisible. I scurry over to my car, having unlocked it as soon as I stepped outside, and nearly throw myself into safety. The tinted windows are comforting as I settle into my seat. I sigh and savor the moment of peace before I catch a glimpse of my neighbor. He's making his way over here! I quickly back out of my parking space, palpitations sending my sweat glands into overdrive. What is he thinking? Am I crazy for pulling out like that? Crazy? Weird? I try to calm the questions as I stop at a four-way intersection. No, I'm simply an asshole. An introverted asshole who can't deal with other people. There's all there is to that mystery.\n\nDriving eases much of the noise in my head and before I know it, I'm parked in the lot of Albertson's. I look around, seeing that no one's walking about. Perfect. I shift from my car seat and head toward the store. A man exits, glancing over at me as he makes a bee-line for his car. Damn! How could I be seen like this by someone like him? What should I do? I glance over my shoulder as the automatic door opens for me and notice that he is already gone. Foolish of me to think the glance meant anything more than acknowledgement. Or was it judgment? What was he judging? My shoulders fold inward toward my neck and I feel myself getting smaller by the second. What *wasn't* he judging? \n\nI turn my attention to my hastily scrawled grocery list. Distractions. I need distractions. I need milk. I need bread. I need cucumbers.\n\nJust as I turn the corner, I see a child and his mother. She picks through a pile of limes, inspecting the surface for blemishes before smelling them, testing their viability in her kitchen. I feel his eyes follow me across the produce section, catching on me as if I were a fish and his hook hung from my cheek. Three cucumbers fall into a translucent bag and I move, with small steps, to the lemons. He watches me and as I near the bin, I hear a soft whisper.\n\n\"What is that?\"\n\n\"Jimmy, be nice. You don't talk about others like that in public.\" His mother says dismissively, still searching for a few more limes.\n\n\"But it's so... weird looking. Is that a boy or a girl?\"\n\nMy heart throbs against my throat as I grasp at a lemon. The fruit falls out of my grip and abandon it, hoping to lessen the noise in my head by moving to the dairy section. Luckily, that's across the store and a quick glance at her cart tells me that she's already been there.\n\nThe thoughts follow me, though. The words echo in my head, growing in resonance as they repeat themselves in spite of my sweat. \"What *is* that?\" Distress slows my limbs and I stop for a moment, looking over my list. Awash in anger and humiliation, I rip it to pieces. People turn their heads to look at me, but for once, I don't give a shit. I stomp my way back to the produce section, cart in tow. I can see the child and mother shuffling toward the exit. My footsteps grow heavier and I start to lose steam as I near them. Maybe I shouldn't say anything. What would I say? Would the words even matter? \n\nI stand there, weighing my options when he glances back and sees me. I'm too far to hear him, but his lips move distinct from the rest of his face. I can see the words, and somehow that strengthens them.\n\n\"That thing is looking over here. Can we leave now?\"\n\nI stand there, staring at the contents of my cart. Three cucumbers in a cheap, plastic bag.\n\nWithout a second thought, I step away and leave it in the middle of the store, pulling the lip of my hat over my face.\n\nI hate grocery shopping."
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[WP] You're a siamese twin, and your other half is starting to make some questionable decisions
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"(1/2) \"Shae, Shae!\" a harsh whisper wakes me. A head looms close to mine and I blink slowly. This type of thing would probably give a normal person a heart attack, but not me, because I'm not normal. Scratch that, WE aren't normal.\n\n\"C'mon, Shae!\" she pats me on my cheek, a little too hard for my liking. I groan and try to roll my torso over onto my side so I can keep sleeping. It doesn't work very well when you're joined at the hip though with your twin. I feel Margery swing her leg off the bed, which in turn pulls me along with it. \"Hurry up! I told you about this, we'll be late!\" \n\n\"Ughh!\" I groan. Normally, Margery is the quiet one. It's harder to live, no, exist in society. We are always made fun of and pointed at. The gawking never stops. It seems like our choices are either to become part of a freak show (which Mar actually thought might be a good idea until she saw that one show... American Scary Story or something...) or live through experiments done by scientists eager to get their hands on a new 'specimen'. \n\"Mar, can't you just do it yourself,\" I grumble, knowing full well it was a stupid thing to say. She's silent but I can feel her annoying. \"Okay, okay,\" I say quickly before she can start badgering me. Mar has a way of digging up all of the past favors I've asked of her when she wants/needs something from me. \"I'll just take another sleeping pill when we're almost there,\" I say to myself since Mar is already busy pulling on her half of the pants. \n\nWe get dressed, which is easier than most people think it is. We've had years of practice so I don't see why people are still surprised that we take about as long as a normal person. And by years, I mean our whole 23 year old lives. We do everything together because, well, we kind of have to. Yet even though we live practically the same lives, Mar and I still turned out pretty different. \n\nI've accepted our lives. Thrown away by our parents probably because we were 'freaks', lived out most of our lives at an orphanage, bullied and harassed by children and adults alike... Yes, I would say it's been a tough life. Whereas I turned into more of a tomboy that grew thick skin and let the rude words bounce off of me, Mar seemed to go the other direction. She grew more and more meek, not even lifting her head in public for fear of seeing the awkward or disgusted glances thrown at us. I've learned how to not care while Mar didn't even bother trying to act like she didn't care. The only thing Mar ever wanted, every Christmas, every prayer, and every birthday wish, she asked us to be normal. After a while, she learned to stop asking.\n\nAll the effort I put into trying to coach her on how to be like me were rebuked. Even though she's extremely meek with anyone else, Mar is a firecracker when we're alone. She loves to read and learn and isn't afraid to use that wit of hers to make me feel stupid. I swear she's insulting me half of the time and I don't even actually know it. She lets me know that she's fine just the way she is and she would much rather be her than be me. I suppose that's a good thing though and I have since stopped trying to persuade her. However, I still worried for her mental health when we were in public. I can read her emotions almost perfectly but not her actual thoughts, which frustrates me to no end. \n\nThis is why I have been supporting her in her 'secret book club'. At least that's what she calls it. At first, I was stupid enough to just believe her. Maybe it was the excitement that she actually met some people she could talk to that clouded my mind or maybe it was just my plain stupidity. Both are likely answers. \n\nIt's been a few weeks now since she's joined and every few days we sneak off into the night while the moon still hangs high. I don't mind the walks and I like the quiet of the night. There's no excess noise from people. The animals don't judge you because they fear all people alike. I usually just take a sleeping pill when Mar says we're nearing the meeting area but not tonight. \n\nNow, I know I'm stupid but not stupid enough to always believe that 'secret book club' meets so often and at 3:49 a.m. I mean, what group of people can read that many books that often?! Oh, and the time. That's weird too. \n\nWe've been walking for a good half hour now. The small house that the medical research center provided us with is completely obscured by the thick entanglement of trees. Even though it's unpleasant to get stuck and prodded with things all in the name of 'science', the sinking feeling I'm getting in my stomach right now is worse. I suddenly long to return to the safety of the bright lights and latex gloves. At least I knew around what I was getting myself into. \n\nLately Mar's been acting different. She glared at a nurse when she tried to take blood. Glared! Her glares are normally reserved for me and only me. It was just a simple blood sample that they needed and Mar has never resisted before. She was the more compliant one. She even knocked over a tray, sending a sharp tool they were going to use almost into one of the doctor's eyes! She swore up and down it was an accident and apologized but like I said, I can read her emotions almost perfectly. She wasn't sorry and I knew it wasn't an accident.\n"
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Take this whichever way you like, you don't necessarily need to use the sentence.
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[WP] "See that human? Of course you don't, they've been extinct for 2000 years."
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"\"Hehehe..... Hahahaha!\"..the Thing laugh and laugh. As if it shows, a little loneliness. In the past, human have questioned the reason of its existence to the Thing. The Thing doesn't like free thinking, perhaps that was why human were annihilated. \n\"Day after day,they seek help but instantly show their back in arrogance once you fulfill their wishes\".\nI look down, the world was in a state of total wreckage.\"You see this kid, humans did this. They care little for the world,in a pursuit of a illusion which they create.\"\nThe thing again shows no sign of emotion... just empty an empty expression but I do see a little shine.\n\"If only they care tasty food, music and dances rather than false illusion of the material world,perhaps the world would be a very interesting place to see\"I spoke.\nThe thing laugh again\"Hahaha, they are sinners,kid... they don't deserve it\"\n\n\n",
"“Why must I?” Poriuf gesticulated with all four arms simultaneously. His movements were so sharp and demanding that both his breeding father and his life father slid back away from him in reaction. \n\n\n\nHis breeding father, Angherg, although a rarity to share presence with, always seemed to work Poriuf into frenzy. Each time Angherg arrived to verify the proper growth of his offspring, Poriuf couldn’t help feeling an undeniable desire to prove himself beyond the other offspring. \n\n\n\n“It is not safe outside of our colony.” Angherg signed to the youth. \n\n\n\n“Why is it not safe out there?” he motioned back, gesturing with such insolence that Angherg almost cut off an arm just to watch Poriuf’s pain as it regrew. Maybe that would teach him the lesson he needed in respect. He wasn’t sure if the fault lay with his offspring or with the one in charge of his offspring, Toreg the life father. \n\n\n\n“We do not venture onto land we do not own.” Angherg motioned calmly. \n\n\n\n“What are you afraid of? There is nothing in that land that proves even the most basic of threat to us. You see that?” Poriuf motioned with both of his right arms toward the edge of our colony. “See that human?” Angherg flinched. “Of course you don’t, they’ve been extinct for 2,000 years. For 2,000 years we’ve been afraid of nothing. We are beyond that status of the most superior being on the planet, we’ve far exceeded that capacity. Why do we hide and quiver so?”\n\n\n\n“Because we’re not the only ones to evolve Poriuf and there has been a sighting in the sky.”\n\n\n\n“A sighting?” gesticulated Toreg, cutting into the conversation out of place and out of turn. His mind must have been too alarmed by the news to respect proper etiquette. “You don’t mean—“\n\n\n\n“I do. Humans have returned. We can only pray that the planet protects us again.”\n"
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[WP] You hate this writing prompt.
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"I clicked and clacked away without pleasure.\n\nThis was my life now. All the fun had run out of it.\n\nOnce, I had been a writer. Not a great one, not a well known one, but I had been published on a few sites. Still, I always created my own world. \n\nAlas, the creativity I once had ran out. No longer capable of creating my own world, I sought inspiration from others. I sought refuge in creative writing prompts. It wasn't the same. I hated writing something that wasn't one hundred percent mine. I felt it akin to plagiarism. Still, I wrote occasionally, just to hone the blades of the mind. But there was no joy in it. \n\nI felt hollow. Each prompt was a variation of the same ideas, the same motifs, chopped up and served again as something they tried to call new. \n\nI hated it. And yet, it was what I kept at, to keep sane. Why?",
"Five words flashes on his screen.\n\nHe puts his face on his arms to hide his expression. All you see his is his silhouette against the bright LCD screen his stuck on every single day. You knew what he looked like without even checking, the same old emotionless guy who lost all his emotions pursuing his dreams.\n\n*Sigh.* If only he knew his life would have been better that he grabbed the opportunity that father would have given him. A bachelor's degree without breaking a sweat. Who would have never loved that.\n\nHis been like that for a minute or so. Everyday. Every hour.\n\nHis life could have been better if he didn't found out about that site. Writing. Sure, but would that be enough to feed him. Look at him now.\n\nHe returns to look at the screen. His face brightens. I turned my back against him. Those five words. I hate it and I know he'll hate it too. All I could hear is the daily rhythm he makes against the keyboard.\n\nLook at him now. Doing the thing that he loves, writing, but would that make him *live*?\n\nLook at him now... Doing the thing that he loves...",
"Ever browse Reddit, and decide you'll try your hand at something new? Maybe you've had a few, and a sub catches your eye, and you think, \"Fuck...I can write. I want to be a writer...no...I am **GOING** to be a writer.\"\n\nAnd, suddenly, you are here. Purgatory for the slew of us self-loathers. All of us demarcated by the simple fact we would even post here, try our luck out on a titan's handful of angry, jealous strangers. \n\nAnd, then, you see the title of one of these *fucking* prompts. Suddenly, you can't help yourself. \n\nSo, you write some bullshit about Reddit. You clack away at your keyboard. Meanwhile, some fuck with an absolutely moronic fucking username will gather karma. If he had friends, he might even show them. If he had an iota of creativity, he wouldn't have posted the thread. No, he simply would've written something down, for himself. \n\nBut this prompt...this sub...it's always about delineating yourself. *Make sure you are noticed!*\n\nFuck it.\n\nHave another beer, and never try this again.",
"With freshly made coffee in my right hand, I turned on my computer and opened up Reddit to looked at today's writing prompts. As I took a sip from the hot beverage, I scrolled down, reading the new post. Emotions went through my mind like a bullet train. Happy, sad , amazed, disgusted. Then I came upon one with 20 down votes. I put down the mug and began reading the title. \"You hate this writing prompt\" it said. As I mouthed the words on the screen I suddenly lost control of my body. My minds thoughts became ones of rage and anger while my right hand moved the mouse towards the down vote button. I left clicked then blacked out. I woke up and slowly raised my head off the computer. I took a sip of my coffee but it was cold. I then looked towards the clock on the bottom right hand of the screen, 2 hours have passed. At that point something caught my attention, 2 Billion down votes beside the post. I opened up the comments only to find 20 pages of hate messages. Before I could process all of this, I hear something. I looked out the window, fire, police cars, gun fire. I ran towards my TV ,turned it on, changed the channel to the news and read the headline. \"Reddit Post causes riots\" it read. Then I said to myself \"I'm not even going to say it\". "
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[WP] Write a story with the same starting and ending paragraph.
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"They call him \"late David\". David was late for work.\n\nSomehow when setting his alarm last night he'd managed to set it for 7:30 PM instead of 7:30 AM.\n\n\"FUCK!\", he shouted at nobody in particular, causing his cat to scurry, frightened, into the bathroom. \"SHIT, FUCK, SHITFUCK\", he yelled at his shoes which were refusing to untie, because of course, last night after work he'd just slid his feet out of them.\n\nFinally giving up all hope of untangling the gordian knot he'd somehow managed to create yesterday morning he shoved his heels violently into his size 10.5 Oxfords, smashing the backs, and scraping his heel.\n\n\"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!\", he slammed his hand down on the kitchen counter, the shock jolting the coffee he hadn't had time to drink off the edge of the kitchen counter and on to the floor.\n\nHe let out an inhuman scream of frustration for the half second it took for him to wonder what his neighbours must think of all this noise, then rapidly silenced himself, grabbed a handful of paper towels, which he threw in the direction of the rapidly spreading coffee pool on the kitchen floor, then dashed out of the door with his squashed shoes flapping against his heels like flip-flops.\n\nThe last sound he heard as he slammed the door behind him was the cat retching, presumably on the living room carpet. Or maybe the sofa. Wonderful.\n\nHe checked his watch. 8:38. Bloody hell, he should've been at work over half an hour ago. Mitch, his boss, was going to murder him. He'd be lucky if he still had a job by the time he got in. Time is money when you've got used cars to sell.\n\nOutside in the parking lot of his small, and slightly run-down apartment building, it was a crisp winter morning. A sharp smell of winter hung in the air, and the frozen tarmac of the parking lot was treacherous. David almost slipped over twice on his way to the car.\n\nDavids car was rather old, beaten up, and generally unglamorous, but that was all going to change soon. He may be having a bad morning, he mused to himself as he scraped the frost off the windscreen (a frustratingly slow process), but that was all going to change soon. Promotion was in the air, he felt it, and the big commissions would soon follow.\n\nBeing late to work yet again wasn't going to gain him any brownie points towards promotion though, so he abandoned his futile scraping, jumped in the car and gunned it. Straight out onto the freeway, and into an oncoming truck.\n\nThe newspaper obituary said \"The late David Campbell was a devoted team player at his job, where he will be sorely missed, a keen guitarist, and expert at crossword puzzles. He is survived by his cat, 'Barfy', who has been adopted by his neighbor.\"\n\nThey call him \"late David\". David was late for work.\n\nEdit: My last paragraph didn't exactly match the first one, quotes were wrong.\n\nAlso, while I'm here, thanks OP for an interesting prompt. I'm not a writer and haven't written any fiction in years. No doubt that shows, but I enjoyed it anyway!",
"She took a step outside where the dark completely envelopes her. The cold summer breeze was all she needed and the warmth of holding a cup of hot chocolate. She smells the cocoa wisping through the air like fireflies flying around some summer nights.\n\nHer eyes scans through stars finding patterns like the constellations she was never familiar with from the start. They twinkle like the chirps of crickets that has become her favorite lullaby. A crescent moon floats in her sea of constellations.\n\nShe closes her eyes with her head still fixed to the sky. She takes a sip from her cup of chocolate and tries to appreciate the sweet taste. She always hated the bitter taste that scalds her tongue from a daily morning cup of coffee.\n\nShe always hated the morning.\n\nThe same old routine of going to work and being with people she wouldn't bother with from the first place. It was so boring she thought. She was living a life she never wanted.\n\nShe puts down the cup she just took a sip from on a nearby edge from the porch. She wanted to run away. So she closed her eyes and sprinted to the nearby woods.\n\nShe opens her eyes as she sees tree trunks running towards her at full speed like she wasn't the one running. Above her, she can see the crescent moon and her stars brushing against the flowing silhouette of foliages. Her hair flowing along the breeze that crashes against her rosy cheeks. Fireflies began to appear and they all looked like shooting stars fling horizontally towards the side of her field of vision.\n\nIt was all she wanted.\n\nShe looked backed and all she saw was darkness. She was never afraid of that, instead, she was more afraid of daylight, she thought.\n\nShe scanned through the woods and she remembers this place. She lays her hand on a tree nearby and once more closes her eyes.\n\nAll she wanted was silence.\n\nShe took a deep breath, taking in the crisp air she's unfamiliar with in her morning life. She taps the tree with her calloused hands as if she's bidding farewell.\n\nA stroll back home felt so heavy. She sees the light, the warmth and probably someone waiting out there in the porch. She sighs like she would and looks back in the darkness where she always find herself and solitude. Where she found warmth she always felt in the cold embrace of the wind under her moon. Where she always finds a place more home than the bed by the fireplace she sleeps in.\n\nThey enter back in the cozy home they both live in. Her sister locks the door and finds her looking through the window.\n\nShe will come back the next day. The look she returned was not desperation but a promise - back home.\n\nShe took a step outside where the dark completely envelopes her. The cold summer breeze was all she needed and the warmth of holding a cup of hot chocolate. She smells the cocoa wisping through the air like fireflies flying around some summer nights."
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[WP]Lucifer falls in love with a mortal
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"On the fated day, I learned what it meant to have 'free-will'. A fallacy... as it were. \n\nThe 'Great-Mother'... 'God'... We, her Arch Angels, called her El. \n\nShe ruled just and fair, allowing us and only us the ability to decide what we will. All others in the realm of Paradise must follow an inherent 'directive'... fulfilling duties mandated to them before their creation.\n\nI found it somewhat sad... even depressing. I oft wondered what it was like to 'do' because it was your design to 'do'. Not to choose to do as my brethren and I can.\n\nDuring my duties as Grand Vizier I could not help but to notice one of the 'lesser' beings that tended to the mundane chores around the Holy Capital. She was not like most that dwelled in Paradise. I believe El called them 'mortals'.\n\nThe word was synonymous with as many other depressing words that matched their drone-like routine. Something that was perishable... that would eventually wither and die.\n\nIn the days that followed, this 'mortal' gained my attention more. Even more so... my infatuation. There was something alluring about her. Something I felt envious of. Such an unusual feeling it was.\n\nI had to do what I could to maintain my attention on my duties as she cleaned and tended to the maintenance of my quarters. I couldn't helpt to feel more drawn, lusting for the young mortal before me.\n\nBut what would my brethren think of me... the Grand Vizier falling for a mere mortal such as her. Was I too proud to accept a nature of this thing called 'will', freedom?\n\nI shook the thoughts from my mind as I completed reviewing documents for the day. \n\nThe sensation... over the past days I found myself dragging my feet... slothful and debilitated. I hadn't seen her for days and it was maddening, almost enraging that I, the Grand Vizier, was both brooding over a mortal and knew not of her whereabouts. \n\nI finally inquired one of the other angels as to where the mortal had gone. It was then I learned she was assigned to another quarter. But why...?\n\nThe next day I found myself just outside the quarter of a seraph. One who managed some of the cities resources and supplies. I glared maleficently at him as she worked... overcome with a feeling of greed... a yearning to have her for myself.\n\nI took to my studies, gorging myself of knowledge as to why 'She' gave me this accursed thing called 'Will'. I hated her for it. I hated her for not explaining why having such a fallacy burdened upon me was necessary!\n\nAnd what more... I hated that I could not have what I wanted. To have the will to want and not be able to do so... it was absolutely maddening.\n\nIn a fit of rage I threw my books from my desk in one sweep of my arm... all but one crashing down onto the marble floor.\n\nAll but one... an ancient book... a book of the 'Unspoken One'... the Red Dragon...\n\n...yes... he might be able to help... if I overthrew 'Her'.... I could have what I wanted... yes...\n\nWar in Heaven... it shall burn... for her...",
"\"What the fuck were you thinking? Travelling to Earth?\" Malum inquired. Lucifer was chained up, in a dark room. Malum was once his servant, it WAS Lucifers dimension, after all. When God found out his infatuation with that human, he stripped him of his position of the prince of darkness, a position now held by Malum. He paced across the room. Lucifers eyes burned with fury. If only Malum were to remove these enchanted bounds, then he would know the reason why God created a new dimension just for his dwelling. \"You aren't angry, are you?\" Malum smugly stated, with a sick grin on his face. He raised his hand, and punched Lucifer in the face, as hard as he could. Lucifer felt the impact hit him. Even though Malum looked human, demons have skin and bone tough as iron. Lucifer screamed in rage. He pulled on the bonds that held him in place. Malum chuckled, \"You really think you can break that? It's made of demon stone, the stuff meant to seal demons and sinners in this realm, and to not wonder to the others. Even you can't break it.\" Lucifer strained, and he finally gave up. His eyes felt heavy. He was so tired. He was dieing of exhaustion, he couldn't take it anymore. As his eyes began to close, Malum spoke once more. \"What was her name again? Lily, was it?\" Mallum said. Lucifer's eyes shot wide open. \"I mean, yeah she looked hot, but cmon man, there's so many more appealing mortals. I might have my way with her, then kill her. That sounds like a good idea, eh?\" Malum spat. Lucifer strained against the chains once more. The fury of a thousand suns raged through his veins. His tattered shirt ripped at the back, and two raven wings appeared. His eyes went black. He yelled as loud as he could as he ascended into his archangel form. \"Ah, fallen archangel Lucifer, i'm afraid that won't hel-\" Malum was interrupted by a sickening crack. Where the two chains connected at the walls, they both broke simultaneously. Lucifer bared his teeth. They were sharp and silver, like small knives in his mouth. He lunged at Malum. Malum tried to weave out of the way, but Lucifer way too fast. Lucifer had Malum's neck in his hand. He raised Malum into the air, tightening his grip. Lucifer's voice echoed and bellowed with his unnatural power, \"NOT ONLY DO YOU USURP MY DARK THRONE, YOU FATHOM TO CASTE YOUR GAZE UPON MY BRIDE?!\" He threw Malum against the wall as hard as he could. Everyone in the universe was against him. His demons, even God, because he planned to leave his realm for Lily. He opened a golden locket around his neck, which revealed a beautiful girl, with auburn hair. Even her smile could pierce through the darkness in the fallen archangel's heart. \"Don't worry, Lily, i'm coming for you.\""
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I've seen sad, let's see happy, angry even envious
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[WP] You're writing your eulogy for your best friends funeral. He/She committed suicide and you're anything but sad.
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"\n\n\n\n\n\n\"And now, the eulogy\".\n\nThe pastor spoke softly. I can only imagine such a tone was trained into him. A character he played almost, designed to comfort the grieving many. It was pessimistic of me, and I can't deny it was fueled by resentment. But after what happened, resentfulness seemed the only appropriate feeling left to hold. That and the unending, all-covering sorrow. I dabbed my eyes with my pristine white handkerchief. \"Timothy Winn will read it\" the pastor continued. He looked solemnly down at the wooden boards, painted a milky white, that lay beneath his feet. Like a wedding, I thought. White silk drapery flanked the temporary stage. A wonky line of garden chairs substituted for the pews. The floral decorations only contributed to a celebratory feeling. But this was not a celebration. As the words left his mouth, a dozen or so turned their necks in an instant, and the eye of the small crowd shifted its gaze to a withdrawn, quiet-looking man seated near the back.\n\nHe rose.\n\nTimothy was a tall man, broad chested man. The kind who shook the floor when he walked, but today he took his steps with great care. His shoulders were hunched, and his stature uncharacteristically subdued. The silence was unbearable. It felt an age before he shuffled into place on the stage. Still, Timothy looked down and only down. Nervously, he pulled from his pocket a small folded piece of paper. The sheet unfurled, and Timothy lay it gently on the stand. A lone cough came from the crowd, and Timothy, shaking visibly, looked up. He was a beaten man. The sleepless nights were painted in bright red on his eyes. His hair was frazzled, and he bore an unkempt stubble on his worn face. The microphone squeaked as he opened his mouth. At last, he spoke. \n\"Jordan River will be missed. Not just by the ones who were close to him\", Timothy began. The small piece of paper had garnered his attention again. His words were dry, and spoke with a subtlety. \"He brightened the lives of those who knew him. His positivity, and his look on lif...\" Timothy stifled. Perhaps his words escaped him. \"His look on life were inspir....\" Again, Timothy choked up. He was not crying though. He was far from fighting back tears. Around me, solemn and respectful faces turned to perplexity. Puzzled frowns and raised eyebrows. He let out a sigh. It was not a sigh of relief though. For a moment, there was silence.\n\nTimothy picked up the sheet of text from the stand where it lay, and he folded it up and placed it in his pockets again. His cheeks were turning a deep shade of red now, and his fists began to clench. \"When they found his body, they. Uh. They found a note.\" He winced. \"It was addressed to me.\" Timothy pulled another piece of paper from his pocket. This one, written on what seemed like an expensive greeting card. It was stained with blood, which sent a gasp through the crowd. \"It asks that I read it at the service\" Timothy coughed.\n\n\"Hello to all, and I'm deeply sorry. Under the jacket of my good friend here, Tim, is 50lbs of C4 explosives. After I've said my parting words, they'll be detonated. Don't blame him, I can be persuasive. To my mother, you did your very best. I was destined for the pearly gates, and now so are you. To Stephanie, how loyal you were. We'll meet again. I loved you and I still do. This is for us. And lastly to my good friend William, we always said we'd go out with a bang. Go towards the light. Goodbye and good luck.\n \nAUTHORS NOTE: THE NARRATORS NAME IS WILL, JUST IN CASE THAT WAS CONFUSING",
"'35/12/19\n\nTonight, I pen the eulogy of she who, in life, I considered my best and truest friend. In life, she was the light which led me through my darkest days, and she pushed me to ever greater heights. Since we became fast friends so many years ago, we have always remained close, in spite of the ever-present tension between us and the thoughts which always lurked in the recesses of memory. There were always thoughts of what might have been, thoughts of what could be, thoughts of what had passed.\n\nThe nagging memory of that day, shortly after we met, when you mentioned your new boyfriend; and the feeling of envy at the realization that I had missed my chance; never really faded completely.\n\nThe weekend we spent together, locked in your room, as we revealed our darkest secrets and shared every moment without a thought to the days to come, let alone the years.\n\nThe months after that when I allowed myself to believe that I could draw you away from him, and when you might have believed it too.\n\nMaybe I never really stopped believing. Maybe that's why I stayed around. Maybe I still dreamed that one day you would wake up and realize that I let you walk all over me because I truly wanted to make you happy.\n\nAnd maybe after a while you started to take me for granted.\n\nMaybe as time went on, you decided that you liked having a friend who didn't mind waiting on you hand and foot whenever you were around, or maybe you realized that keeping me as a friend meant that you didn't have to choose between us after all. Maybe you decided that if you couldn't have me because you had him, then I didn't really need to have anyone either. You were my friend, and that was all that mattered. Maybe you thought that I should be grateful for the time I had with you, which I was, in spite of myself.\n\nMaybe none of this was on purpose, and you never realized the power you held. I'm not really sure either way, to be honest. It doesn't really matter, anyways.\n\nI'm free now.\n\nI will keep my word, though. \nYour secrets are mine, and no-one will ever know, because they cannot hurt me any more.\n\n[a note, in case this should ever be read by the friend upon whom this is based: this is not what is; this is what I hope will never be.]"
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[WP] You have been cured of the need to sleep, now unable to sleep, you crave it.
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"**Dreamer**\n\nI lie dreaming in my bed but I am very much awake. This is becoming the norm now.\n\nDo I regret taking the treatment from LucidTech? Definitely, but I cannot say that it did not do what it was purported to do. I do not need sleep, nor do I feel unusually tired. I am far more productive now than ever with the extra hours I have each day. I was given everything I wished for. \n\nBut no one told me I would still dream.\n\nLike most dreams, I don’t remember them clearly, if at all. At first I wasn’t even sure that I was dreaming. Now they hit me like an overpowering wave; I struggle against their push and pull but inevitably I am dragged under. The world twists and turns around me. It becomes alive.\n\nOnce I found myself in the kitchen after a particularly vivid dream. I had been a chef, cooking for a pair of giants that lived in the clouds. I came back to reality with a knife in hand and a carrot half sliced on my chopping board. Needless to say, this was dangerous so I contacted LucidTech who advised me that they would look into it. In the meantime I was advised to stay in bed if I began to dream.\n\nIt worked for some time until my dreams became more subtle. On my way to work one morning, I found myself walking around a construction site. It took all day to locate my car which I had parked a long distance away. I’m amazed that I didn’t get into an accident.\n\nNow I stay home. I keep the doors locked and await a response from LucidTech. The days are beginning to blend together and I can’t separate my dreams from reality anymore. Some are irregular, very noticeable by how abstract they are, but most are mundane and very real. I’m beginning to question what is actually considered abstract now.\n\nFor instance, I had been playing a video game to pass the time. In last night’s dream, I was the main character of that game and I snuck around slaying monsters and looting items. Was that so abstract though? I suppose monsters don’t really exist but the dream looked so real.\n\nI also keep my eye on the news now for some kind of sign, any sign that there are others out there like me. After all, I wasn’t the only volunteer for LucidTech’s new treatment. There were a thousand in total. I’m afraid that I’m becoming paranoid because I feel like the news has taken a turn for the weirder.\n\nNaked people wandering through shopping centres are becoming a thing now. That could have been me. Car crashes, crazy people yelling in the streets, and even people terrorising stores. Could they be one of the thousand? One of the Dreamers?\n\nThe flashing lights of police cars and ambulances are overlaid across my vision. This dream is too real but I know better than to leave my bed. Just in case. So I pull out my phone and flick through the news.\n\n*Four missing after bloody break in. Police on the hunt.*\n\nThis is one of the worst yet. Am I being paranoid? Could it have been one of the Dreamers?\n\nA crisp thumping interrupts my thoughts. I must be dreaming again, because the flashing lights are brighter than ever.\n\nThere’s a slight crackle and an echo, as if from a megaphone. “Open up!”\n\nI bolt upright but the locked door warns me. This could be another dream.\n\n“Open the door!”\n\nCautiously, I make my way to the window. I stumble a little and trip in something wet. It wakes me up a little and I find myself staring dumbfounded at a semi-circle of five police cars outside my house.\n\nMy heart is pumping fast now. My head feels clear. If this is a dream, it is the most vivid yet. \n\nI look at the locked door. Should I open it?\n\nThen I remember my feet are wet. \n\nWhen I look down, I find them sticky with blood.\n",
"Sunday April 12, 2015:\n\nThe following is an excerpt from subject number one’s experience in the experiment:\n\n**Week One:** \n\nThe operation appears to have worked just has intended. I no longer feel tired or have the need to sleep whatsoever. I have never felt more alive! The extra 7-8 hours a day have enabled me to complete so much more work while having more time with my family. I look forward to everyone having this experience in the future.\n\n**Week Two**\n\nToday is the last day I need to spend in the hospital under surveillance as I have proven my mind is stable and intact. I am not showing the signs of sleep deprivation and in fact show signs of the opposite! No need to coffee or other stimulants to stay awake. I’m very much looking forward to going home to my family and my day to day life. \n\n**Week Three**\n\nThis has certainly been the most productive week of my life. All through the night I work through my lab studies and meet with colleagues in the morning to discuss the results. I leave work around noon to spend more time with the family and start work once again when they are asleep. Surely this discovery will be the most important in human history to date! The productivity gains we will achieve will certainly be astounding.\n\n**Week Four**\n\nThis week I have started a workout regimen on top of my daily schedule to help me through the rather lonely nights. There is something quite strange about being one of the only people awake during the night. I’m looking forward to more people joining me!\n\n**Week Five**\n\nIt seems as though my muscle recovery has been somewhat affected by my lack of sleep. After two workouts my muscles have become increasingly sore and so I have stopped all rigorous exercise. I hope that the pain subsides as I take it easy for a few weeks. This may be the first problem we have encountered since the operation has occured.\n\n**Week Six** \n\nMy muscles have not fully recovered and in fact have become worse. I have been taking pain medication from the doctors to try and numb the pain but it only does so much. I have started to notice the physiological impact of being in pain with no escape, even just for a few hours of sleep. With the focus on the pain my mind seems to run on overdrive with no time to cool off.\n\n**Week Seven**\n\nThe pain hasn’t stopped and I need sleep, I need just a few minutes to get away from the pain and my constant thoughts I need to escape myself. Working hard on coming up with a way to reverse the operation but nothing has worked so far I have tested one or two methods on myself already but no luck they have only made the pain worse and worse. I know there will be a breakthrough I will find a way to rebalance my hormones and gain sleep again I must get back to work right away.\n\n---\nWe held the patient in the hospital for two weeks after that last entry and he refused to write another in the journal. After 15 days he showed signs of improvement when we provided a new hormone treatment. He convinced us that he was safe to leave and the treatment had worked effectively. \n\nThe next morning, April 12, 2015, he was found dead in the basement with self inflicted wounds. He left a note that read “I am sorry, but I needed to escape myself.” All human studies related to the operation have been put on hold until future notice.\n\n---\nIf you enjoyed this check out my subreddit /r/thewritinghabit"
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[WP] You wake up with the ability see what drugs people are on, and how high/drunk/intoxicated they are on a scale of 1-10. You come to the startling realization that everybody is just plastered 24/7.
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"Honestly, once I realised what was going on, the world made a lot more sense. It was confusing initially, seeing my boss' red-faced grin as she announced that she'd taken a late lunch with the head of HR and then, popping up above her head, was a \"5\", and some little cartoon bubbles. I thought I'd just had one too many (I noticed a \"7\" above my head when I took a pub-lunch friday selfie), but no. \n\nI can just...see this shit. Like some kind of videogame. It's not too bad, actually - I'm thinking of signing on with the police. Though if the frequently-sniffing wide-eyed DCI who conducted my interview was anything to go by (9) it might not really work out. Strolling through the more liberal areas of town you'll sometimes see a big green haze, with a 6 floating in it. I don't mind the smell, though - makes me think of my university days. \n\nUltimately, I figure it's just one of those useless talents. My cousin can turn his elbows practically backwards, and I guess I can tell how wasted people are.\n\nPro tip, though : If it happens to you, do NOT watch the news. *Way* too many 10s. ",
"It's hard to appreciate the scope of these things until they hit you right over the head- everyone's head, namely. It started without warning one early morning, a perky \"7\" floating above my mother. After a couple of seconds of rubbing the sleep from my eyes and gawking at her, I decided I hadn't slept well and went for a walk to clear my head.\n\nEveryone I passed that day must have noticed my confusion. 4's, 5's, the occasional 7 or 8, all bright and perky while I tried to keep my sanity from unraveling any further. As I walked around I noticed that the some of the numbers had a different *quality* to them too. The guys playing hackysack in the park had playful 8's, in a green comic sans. The high-powered business exec whizzing by in his Lambo had an angry looking 9. For the most part though, people's numbers all looked the same as my mom. A muddy brown, bordering between fuzzy and sharp. Regular passerby seemed to average around 5, some gabbing new moms 7's as they pushed their 2's strollers along. Passing the playground, even the kids carried a 3 or a 4. Everyone had a number.\n\nSeeing as my mental state wasn't improving, I figured a glance up above my own head couldn't hurt. A little harder to read from below, but I still made out a brownish \"2\". Lying to myself, I rationalized that this was just another sleep-deprivation-fueled-waking-dream. Finishing essays all night would do that to you. Seeing as there was nothing *dangerous* about these hallucinations, I decided I needed to just wake up. Almost on cue, my walk had taken me to my favorite local coffeehouse.\n\nMmh. Smells like 10.",
"San Francisco. Such a beautiful place...from far away. I had moved here from Nebraska. My home town had seemed too empty, too small. I needed change, adventure. To prove that I was my own man.\n\nAt first, it was thrilling. I had decided to couch surf for a little while, while I took in the sites. I had met some crazy people, been robbed a couple times. Eventually, I had decided to get a job. I now work as a barista at a little coffee shop named Leaf Blend. Working there full time, I can afford to share a small studio with three other people. \n\nBut I cut down on a lot of the cost of that with student loans. That pays the other half of my rent, and a bit of my food, along with the food stamps. Overall, it's not a bad life. Still better than Nebraska. \n\nToday I am off to work. I only show up to school enough so they won't drop my loans. No need to overwork myself.\n\nIt's a walk down the hills to the Tenderloin. I see a guy smoking crack, a woman shitting on the sidewalk...nothing unusual. Normally the homeless tend not to see people. Or if they do, you are clearly not a person to them. Maybe you are a dragon, or a potato. But you are never you.\n\nThat is why when a sober, sane looking homeless gentleman stepped in front of me and looked at me right in the eyes, I felt very alarmed. I grew even more alarmed when he said, \"Nice day, isn't it?\", smiled at me, and then patted me on the shoulder.\n\nI cannot express to you the amount of terror that this odd interaction created in me. In San Francisco, even well dressed rich people look down, or right through you. No one looks AT you. It's...too warm. Almost against unspoken rules.\n\nMy spirits dampened by this vulgar display of aggression, I proceeded down the hill, through the cracked sideways, by the graffiti encrusted walls, around the discarded shoes, over the piles of vomit, piss and used needles, and finally, to the Leaf Blend.\n\nIt was only when I entered and surveyed the room that I noticed the incredible horror that surrounded me. \n\nI was able to tell the drugs that every person in there was on. The business men who still had hints of cocaine in their system, the hipsters who had been high on weed for the last five years. My coworker Ashley, who was still tripping on acid. The middle aged housewives, looking so content on their valium.\n\nThis whole damn city was high.\n\nAnd the worst thing...I could feel what they couldn't. Every suppressed bit of anxiety, every dream that was squashed through the overdosage of whatever chemical they had used to kill their ambition. I felt ALL of it!\n\nI looked down at my hands. What was I on? Something terrible. Something that had done this to me. How?...\n\nThat man! That man who smiled and patted me on the back! I had to find him. I couldn't live my whole life like this.",
"8:29:57... \n8:29:58... \n8:29:59... \n8:30:00... \nThat momentary lag and...\\*DI-DI-DING\\* \\*DI-DI-DING\\*...my alarm starts its racket. \nI can hear Dads shuffling steps upstairs and... yep, right on the dot I can hear Mom letting out the dogs. \n \n8:33:26 \nStart up the shower, gotta grab a towel from the closet. \nNo towels in the closet, gotta go upstairs to grab one. \n \n8:34:18 \n\"Would you brew your Mother a pot of coffee?\" \n\"Sure Dad, just gotta grab a towel real quick.\" \n \n8:37:12 \nCoffee is brewing and I'm trying to melt away the kink in my neck from sleeping wrong. \n \n8:52:07 \nShowered, dressed, refreshed. Don't have to leave for class till noon, could kill some time on Reddit... \n12:08:17 \nShitshitshit where's my keys. \n \n12:09:12 \nGive Mom a hug. She is at 2, remind her to take her Xanax. Says that she just did. \nPass Dad in the garage. His list is beyond the ceiling. Seventeen some-odd meds a day would do that to you. \"Parkinson's, a hell of a thing\" as he always says. \n \n12:28:56 \nClass. Nearly everyone on campus had some level of caffeine over three. \nA good number had some other substance listed. Recognized most of these, it is allergy season after all. \nAt least four had alcohol and six or seven had illegal substances. \n \n12:32:06 \nProfessor just walked in, blazed out of his mind. May need to hit him up next time my stash is getting low. \n \n14:26:22 \nJust walked pass an Officer arresting some punk for possession. Kid was cleaner than the Officer. \n \n15:02:03 \nJohn called, wants to meet up for some food. \n \n15:20:56 \nJohn wants me to \"be his witness\" at the custody meeting with his lawyer and his babies momma. I say sure. \nFood's good, John covers the bill. \n \n16:00:23 \nLawyers office. \nThe lawyer has the sniffles, I suggest some benadryl. \nAshley (the babies momma) is on some high strength pain pills, not sure if legit or just popping. \nHarold (Ashleys new boyfriend) is clean, which is scary considering his mental history. \n \n20:04:18 \nAshley got temp custody. Lawyer said a house with a mother and a father is better for the child. \n \n20:16:32 \nJohn sure is moody. We call up some friends, tell them John needs a stiff drink. \n \n22:36:09 \nJohns at a eight for alcohol. Everyone else is hovering around a five. Last mirror check said I'm at a four. \n \n23:00:36 \nSome girl just about got roofied. Bro of a bartender swapped the asshats and the girls drink when the ass wasn't looking. This should be fun. \n \n23:18:22 \nAsshat is passed out in the bathroom. Johns taking it easy after I told him to lay off the hard stuff. Most everyone is around a seven. \n \n23:55:54 \nHarold just showed up. Nothing listed for him is his psychosis pills and some of what is listed is some strong shit. \n \n01:43:13 \nDrunk tank is a hell of a place to wake up in. Fred and Bill are still out. John is still drunk, but happy. Lawyer had called him to tell him he gets final custody once CPS is done with their investigation.",
"At first I didn't know what the numbers meant. Always 1 through 10. It took a few hours before the letters came into view. I started to notice it was a sliding scale. How high a person was. When the letters were finally clear I realized this. Alcohol and Marijuana were common but Xanax, Adderall, Percocet, Flexerill, Prozac, these were words I began to see over top of everyone's head. Varying degrees of intoxication of course but something was always there. I realized that everyone in the world was self medicating on a regular basis and all this judgement over what is legal or illegal was just a matter of semantics. I laughed out loud in the middle of the streets while passers by just looked at me like I was the crazy one. I couldn't help but think, those were some really strong mushrooms I ate."
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Do you have favorite objects that you keep? Tell me their stories and what they are.
Do you use this sight to help solve missing persons cases or other crimes?
When you hold money and see all the people's who's hands it has passed through, who stands out in a particular bills history?
Most museums don't like people touching stuff but they are your favorite place.
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[WP] When you hold onto an object you begin to see its history play out, the longer you hold something the farther back you see.
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"The piercing sound of the old phone on my desk ringing tore its all the way into my dream. For whatever reason it was the sound of a kid's toy that looked like a circa 1960 space opera lazergun. Or something. I looked at the clock on the wall. 4:30pm.\n\n\nI never cared for those fancy schmaxy phones that can display the caller's name and whatever, but damn well I knew who might be calling. The wooden floors squeaked I got out of the bed and walked into the living room.\n\n\n\"So what did you f---k up today Officer Hardass?\"\n\n\"Ha! Roy, man, you gonna love it, can I come in tonight?\"\n\n\"Riight. What the hell do you have for me today?\"\n\n\"Oh man I can't talk now, just, like what do you want for dinner? Shall we get some sushi again?\"\n\n\"Yeah oh yeah that will do. Get me the avocado-salmon. Some gyoza too if you want.\"\n\n\"Alright man, yeah I love those sure. Alright imma see you in a bit. Probably that's gonna be around 1 or so.\"\n\n\"Alright. Hey, don't get drinks or junk food, we still have the stuff from the day before here. Even the cake if it didn't go bad - would it go bad?\"\n\n\"Oh naah no it'll be OK. Man, that's your birthday cake why didn't you finish it up?\"\n\n\"It's one massive wheel, nobody else comes to this house other than us you know.\"\n\n\"Alright, alright, see you then.\"\n\n\nI half-opened the curtains. The brown hue of the room gave way to a full sunshine. It hurt my eyes. Also gave me an headache that I would probably be aware of in a few minutes. Dragged myself to the kitchen to get the coffee started. Gary was a good cop - no he was a *great* cop. I always found it ridiculous when he mentions he needs me. In fact I was merely buying them time. What I could do was unique, but I never felt it was *irreplaceable*. Nor I deserved the six-figure it earned me. I always assumed that was provided not for what I'm doing, but for me to *keep* doing it. It wasn't like I was going to leave them anyway, but they never trusted me.\n\n\nYou didn't need a \"superpower\" like mine to find out you should trust nobody, after all. Especially if you're in police work. Come to think of it, I wasn't even \"directly\" connected to any of this at any point, well, for the most part. It was usually the bloody shirt or the dropped wallet or the bullet case. Gary would hand something to me, I would hold it in my hands for a minute. The thing draws a \"mental picture\" on its own. Think of it like one of your \"realistic dreams,\" only more persistent in staying in your mind. I \"see\" what happened *to and around* that thing, almost like that thing being a video camera and I'm watching the footage, but only the highlights. Sometimes I would see a violent act. Sometimes a conversation. Sometimes just a figure or a face. The rest would be on Gary's hands. A man's \"visions\" are not an acceptable piece of evidence, but it sure showed right direction to where that evidence would be found.\n\n\nIt was almost 1:30am when I heard the footsteps on the door as I was looking at late night news on TV. I let Gary in before he needed to knock on the door. He put the brown bags he's carrying on the table and then pushed them aside to make room for his briefcase.\n\n\n\"I'm on to something, and you're the only person that knows\" he said as he shuffled through the files.\n\n\"What is it, are you looking for the f---g aliens now?\"\n\n\"Well almost,\" said Gary, as he pulled out an expensive pen. Nothing mind blowing, but definitely what your average marketing lingo would gladly call \"executive level.\"\n\n\"Hmm, not in an evidence bag,\" I inquired. Something was up. \"Whose pen's that?\"\n\n\"Derrick's.\"\n\n\"Who the f... WHAT?\"\n\n\"Yep,\" said Gary, as casual as he could be. He knew whatever happened in this house, stayed in this house. That went without saying when you're working with a man who at one point or another knew *every secret of everyone.*\n\n\"Well, care to tell me why we're shoving our finger into Chief of f---g Police's b---hole?\"\n\n\"It's for a good cause.\"\n\n\"Oh, didn't know it's the Rectal Health Awareness Month sorry about that.\"\n\n\"Look...\" said Gary, exhaling deeply. \"I wouldn't ask if that wasn't important. Just do your thing and if it turns out to be what I think I will tell more. And maybe I won't need to.\"\n\n\nGary knew I would never say no to him, nor this was the first time he asked me something of this sort out of the blue. It was the time to get to work. I held the pen in my hands. Slowly drifted away from every thought I have. It always surprised me to see it's the small, insignificant things that were hardest to get rid of your mind.\n\n\nInhaled.\n\n\nExhaled.\n\n\nLike a doll sinking into the ocean, my mind slowly faded out into the darkness. My eyes were resting on the pen as I started to hear something in a distant location. People. A crowd? It got louder and louder as I started to see tiny, trembling flames.\n\n\nCandles.\n\n\nA restaurant.\n\n\nI stood right next a table by the window, next to the server, who were welcoming the guest.\n\n\n\"That's sounds great! Thank you,\" said Derrick, to the waiter. He politely nodded and walked away.\n\n\nStrange I thought, how the table was set up for two, but there was only Derrick. Then Derrick looked at his phone as its lights came up. A message from a number he didn't have. \"You go ahead and order, I will be there in 10 max.\" He didn't reply.\n\n\nA pair of hands covered his face before he could put the phone down. \"Happy birthday,\" whispered the woman, her face covered behind her curly, dark brown hair. His hands reached to hers, which were on his face. \"Here, don't open up until I tell you,\" said the woman as she slipped her hands away and reached her bag. Pulled out a small bag. Gently placed it in front of him, moving the empty appetizer plate aside. As she seated herself, she said \"Alright, go ahead.\"\n\n\nDerrick looked at the small bag in confusion. \"Is that... oh my god,\" said in a strange mixture of disbelief, amusement and joy. He removed the little box from the bag, and opened the box, revealing the pen. Then he reached for her hand.\n\n\nThat was more than enough for me. Everything started to fade to black again as I slowly started to gather back to \"now.\" In a few seconds that felt like a year, I was in the middle of the room at my own house, sitting on a chair, holding the pen loosely in my hands. I raised my eyes and greeted by Gary's, who was sitting on the couch, but must have moved directly in front of me.\n\n\nHe slowly got up from the chair and walked towards the window as he joined his hands together behind his head. He looked out of the window for a moment as he exhaled deeply and slowly sat down back on the couch.\n\n\n\"I knew it,\" he said, as he started to revolve his wedding ring anxiously.",
"He took the £20 note, smiling. *That note has passed through a thousand tills and this one won't be the last.* I grabbed my groceries and waited for the change. The hand warmed coins pressed into my palm and I saw all the streets they had been dropped on, all of the new hands who took them and passed them on.\n\nSometimes when I'm down and I don't know what to do I'll go by the river and hold stones. The stones tell an ageless tale, the stones remind me that my little problems are meaningless. Empires rise and fall, mountain peaks push to the sky and collapse, forests grow and die. Lands flood and dry. The stone is constant, the stone was here before the Earth had found a name.\n\nAnd the stones will go on after me. After the mountains are gone and the seas are all dried up."
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What mythology explains including these items with the body?
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[WP] When someone dies, they are buried with a dagger, a bottle of wine, a letter with their mother's name on it, and a tree branch. Why?
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"*I saw this and I couldn't resist; I'm sorry if it's not what you meant! :)*\n\n*Some word edits, and I forgot the dagger originally! Bad author, bad! :P*\n\n===\n\nThere had never been a funeral like this one before.\n\nUsually, they stacked the wood as high as the tallest man in the village could reach - no particular symbolism there, that was just to make sure the body burned completely. They would then pour a bottle of the man's favorite grog onto the kindling, and save another bottle for the bellies of the mourners. At dusk, the man's nearest female relative (a mother or wife, and not so occasionally a daughter or grandmother. Life was hard, but the People were harder; they had to be, to survive) would light a torch from her own hearth before parading through the town, the flickering light calling out for witnesses. It was as much superstition as respect that everyone who saw the flame was required to follow it - the fear of the undead still ran strong, even as the old ways died off. She would lead them to the pyre, holding the torch high as she called to the gods to accept the man, accept the boy, accept his life and judge him worthy to join his ancestors. She would yell his name, claiming him as her kin, asking her family to accept him, and others would join her, the illustrious names peppering the air:\n\n*\"Ghandar the Red, accept your kin!\"*\n\n*\"Yonde the Fair, accept your kin!\"*\n\nFor in a village as small as this one, every man was a brother, every woman a sister.\n\nThe woman would light the pyre of her loved one, the alcohol on the branches catching quickly as the remaining bottle was passed around. When the first tongue of fire would catch his hair or clothing, she would start her wailing, having to be held back from throwing herself on the burning corpse as well (even if it was only symbolic). Cheers to the man's life would be shouted as the smell of burning flesh filled the air around the group and the smoke became almost too thick to breathe. The somber mood would turn cheerful, more drink and food would be brought to cook on the fire, the entire village would laugh and cry, and it would turn into a celebration of life instead of a regret for his death. As the night grew long, some of the boys and girls would sneak away to create new life, and the circle would continue.\n\nOf course, that was a normal funeral.\n\nThis was anything but.\n\nThis man had adopted a new set of gods - where he once had many, now he followed only three. His gods not only discouraged burning his corpse, but forbade it, and he claimed that as long as he had a corporeal form he would be \"born again\" when his gods came back.\n\n\"But where will you keep your body?\" they asked.\n\n\"The ground shall keep it safe until I am ready.\"\n\nThe villagers shook their heads, laughing at his eccentricity, figuring that it was just a phase and that he would be cremated as the rest were, but on the day of his death they learned that he was serious. He had built a long, wooden chest and it was in this chest that they found his emaciated remains; it seemed that he had crawled inside, once he realized that his sickness would never abate. The man's mother wrung her hands as she relayed his simple wishes - dig a hole and place the box in the hole, then pile the dirt over it. She took a piece of tree bark that had strange markings on it, saying that he had instructed her to drop it into his grave as he was lowered.\n\nSo the strongest men lifted the box, carrying it outside to a freshly dug hole and put him in it. The two bottles of honey wine were brought forth, and one was tucked under his arm as an offering for his gods, while the other was given to the small group of mourners, those people who had known about the death and no more, since there was no flame to call extras. They lined up the box and dropped it into the depression, his body jarred into an unnatural position. His mother let out a cry as she stepped forward to throw the beech bark, not quite a wail because she was uncertain if his gods would want her to make a sound. At the last second, a branch was pushed into her hand and she threw that in as well, a base for a torch so that he would be able to find his way out of the ground and join his gods on their return; nearby, a man placed his dagger on the corpse \"for protection\" in the strange afterlife. The dirt was replaced, and two stones were centered over the disturbed earth to prevent him from rising up before that moment. The attendants stood awkwardly for a while, no food nor drink forthcoming, no calls to the ancestors (for there were none who had gone before him, this time) before solemnly returning to their homes. There would be no coupling that night, no babies would be born of his death.\n\nThe holy man who entered the village a few weeks later seemed quite upset that he had not been called to witness the burial. The men of the village tried to tell him that there was no celebration, nothing to see, but he was insistent that a \"man of the faith\" should have had a religious funeral free from pagan superstitions. That snobbish prude did not last in the village long, but the next was better suited for dealing with heretics and incorporated the themes of the pyre with the burial of believers, drawing inspiration from that first funeral as his following grew:\n\n* A torch-lit procession, led by the priest.\n\n* A bottle of alcohol, as an offering (and another for the attendants).\n\n* A piece of bark or skin, upon which the learned man (and later, his pupils) would write the name of the man's closest female relative, so that he had proof of his kin for his ancestor's approval.\n\n* A branch and dagger, so the deceased would find their way once the Supreme God and his Son alighted on the earth.\n\n* Two large stones rolled over the grave to keep the deceased from returning before that day, to appease the superstitious ones.\n\n* A somber procession to a large fire with food and drink, turning the loss to gain.\n\nAnd the circle continued again."
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[WP] It is take your child to work day at a magazine agency. The journalist of an advice column has to step away for a moment and their child starts answering the letters for the column.
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"Mary Elizabeth Bluewrench Swarmfield Chesternut grabbed the Seattle Times with unchecked enthusiasm and opened to page three. Ignoring the yelp of surprise from the elderly woman she took the paper from, she quickly looked to the column entitled: Advice from a Mother. \n\nShe saw her name! And her question! \n\n>From: Mary Elizabeth Bluewrench Swarmfield Chesternut. \n\n>I often get made fun of for my name at school, I was wondering how I could make them stop. \n\nShe quickly turned her eyes below to the answer. \n\n>From: Jake. \n\n*Who?* Didn't it usually say a mother? \n\n>Well youre name suckz though to be fair. BUt maybe its fine becuz you can chnge it. \n\nMary Elizabeth Bluewrench Swarmfield Chesternut's smile faded as she pondered the advice. Change her name? She didn't know if she could go through with such a thing. Her father had produced blue wrenches, her grandfather had locusts swarm his field and destroy his business (forcing his only son to go into the ludicrous business of colored wrenches) and his father had planted and grown... apple trees. She wasn't keen on the last bit, but her name was all she had. \n\nShe quickly tore herself away from her thoughts to avoid the old woman who was now chasing her. She was quick for a handicapped woman. \n\nMary Elizabeth Bluewrench Swarmfield Chesternut rubbed her chin in thought, dropping the paper in a garbage can as she made her way home. \n\n\"That was unnecessary, you could have given it back!\" The woman shrieked. \n\n\"Do you ever *not* complain?\" Mary Elizabeth Bluewrench Swarmfield Chesternut asked. \"No wonder you're alone on the street with no one to take care of you.\" \n\n\"Oh my!\" The old woman clutched her chest, as though her heart would fall from it. \"I've never! What's your name young lady?\" \n\n\"Mary Elizabeth Bluewrench Swarmfield Chesternut.\" Mary Elizabeth Bluewrench Swarmfield Chesternut stated. \n\n\"That's a dumb name.\" \n\nMary Elizabeth Bluewrench Swarmfield Chesternut agreed.",
"*Dear Desiree,*\n\n*My husband and I have been married 8 years this July, and I'm finding the fun has been lacking our marriage lately. We both work and have two kids, the usual excuses. We've tried pretend play, costumes, various other toys, but nothing seems to be working. Any advice?*\n\n*Frustrated in Fredonia*\n\nDear Frustrated,\n\nToys are great, but sometimes to really have fun, you simply have to get back to basics. When was the last time you and your husband just bounced around on the bed for an hour or so? Or maybe went outside to find a place to play? Maybe a play-date with another couple is in order?\n\n*Dear Desiree,*\n\n*I recently started dating a wonderful guy. He's attractive, fit, caring, he listens well, and enjoys all the same activities I enjoy. The only problem? He's small. Like, 10 year old boy small. I'd really like to start a serious relationship with this man, but I'm not sure I can get past his lack of size. What should I do?\"*\n\n*Disappointed in Dallas*\n\nDear Disappointed,\n\nI know from personal experience that dealing with someone who is that small can be a chore, especially when you want to do something physical like riding in a swing or climbing on each others backs. But if you really like him, stick with it, and just try to find activities that you both can enjoy equally. I think you'll find that he will appreciate you making the effort, and will be very eager to return the favor to you in any way he can.\n\n*Dear Desiree,*\n\n*Any tips for soon-to-be newlyweds, looking forward to our honeymoon?\"\n\n*Eager in Eagleton*\n\nDear Eager,\n\nOne of the best times I had is when my family went to a dude ranch one summer. We rode horses, cooked beans over an open fire, all that kind of stuff. My sister and I decided we were \"Reverse Cowgirls\", since we were pretending to be Cowgirls but were really still city girls at heart, you know? Anyway, when we told the adults they seemed to think that was pretty funny, except for Mom for some reason. "
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[WP]We're sorry, but there's nothing we can do, we estimate she has around 2 more hours left here, we'll leave you to spend time with her now.
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"\"We're sorry, but there's nothing we can do. We estimate she has around two more hours left here. We'll leave you to spend time with her now.\"\n\nAnd with that the doc walked away, leaving just us in the room. Tears fill my eyes. I tried. Oh God, I tried!\n\nIt just wasn't enough. It just wasn't in the cards for us to be together. And now, watching you smile at me as I stroke your sides, I begin to feel a real sense of loss.\n\nI wanted to take you home, to curl up by the fire and enjoy our days together. I worked hard for it, damnit! It wasn't supposed to end like this. Not after all the time I spent working and coming to see you.\n\nFinally a hand comes onto my shoulder to lead me away. Your expectant stare breaks my heart. I know I'll never see you again.\n\nGod, if only I'd been able to get the money we could live together!\n\n\"Sorry, but her new owners just arrived.\"\n\nDogs should be rent-to-own...",
"“We're sorry, but there's nothing we can do, we estimate she has around 2 more hours left here, we'll leave you to spend time with her now.”\n\nWith that, the doctors, scientists, and physicists filed quietly out of the room. The atmosphere was a complete reversal from yesterday when we had all convened in this sterile hospital/government space. Every one of us was excited and hopeful, and the specialists had all sorts of new ideas to test. But like always, nothing worked. Sara got out of the hospital bed and climbed into my lap, and I wrapped my arms around her and buried my face into her amber hair. It always smelled like kiwis. I breathed it in, committing everything about our last minutes together to memory, and closed my eyes.\n\n“Maybe... maybe next time we won’t even tell the scientists?” Sara whispered slowly. “Maybe it can just be us, I don’t want to waste a second.”\n\nI didn’t say anything for a long moment. We both knew there was a possibility there might not even *be* a next time. It was what we always feared, but never spoke of aloud. We had to hold on to hope.\n\nMore than anything I wanted to agree. I hated every moment we were apart, I wanted to spend every second of her presence *in* her presence… but that meant giving up. Giving up on the scientists and professionals that tried to keep her from disappearing again, and I couldn’t stand that either. \n\nBut then again, nothing had worked so far. Why should we keep wasting such precious time? Especially when her visits here were getting more sporadic. There were years between her stays on this plane now, our 24 hours became more and more significant, our reunions more and more miraculous. \n\nWith my entire being I praised the universe and cursed it simultaneously, for bringing her back and for taking her away once more. I held her tighter in my arms, wishing that I was strong enough to keep her *here* and *now.*\n\nWe always parted like this, entwined in an embrace until her last atoms had scattered away to their next unknown destination. We never bothered with words of goodbye. Words were weak and couldn’t impart how much we cared for each other. They were not strong enough affirmations of our love.\n\nSara squeezed my hand and brought my thoughts back to the present. She was still waiting for my answer.\n\nI took another deep breath and held back a sob.\n\n“Of course, love. If that’s what you want to do, of course.”\n\n“Thank you.” she sighed.\n\nI let the tears fall silently down my face, and lost myself in the smell of kiwis.\n\n*( <3 to the book The Sirens of Titan for some inspiration on time and space travel )*\n",
"i Had been mentally deteriorating for days. unable to move away from her limp body. It had been all my fault. But I wouldn't think of that. All that mattered now was that she wakes up. \"When will she wake up?\" I desperately asked a doctor, hopping for an answer. \n\"Only time can tell, he answered, glancing at the clock hanging above her bed. Then leaving. I grabbed the clock and started bashing it against the floor, my hands bloodied from glass, cogs and strings scattered on the floor. I screamed at the pieces, \"WHAT DO YOU KNOW. TELL ME. I HAVE TO KNOW. THIS WAS ALL MY FAULT.\" the sound of footsteps filled the hallway, suddenly my door burst open, and orderlies swarmed forth, filling the room. They took me away, shutting me in a padded room for god knows how long. Then, one doctor entered, flanked by armed guard's, with weapons trained at me. \"Im sorry sir, she only has two more hours left. we cant do anything about it. He left as I screamed. an inhumane wail, filling the halls with despair. "
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[WP] A dragon has to fight a princess to free a captured knight.
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"We were friends, you know? I mean sure we had our struggles and we fought, but I couldn't just stand by and let her do this to him. \n\nI've been telling him since they started dating \"She is up to no good, trust me, I mean look at how many times I captured her, who gets captured that often without wanting it?\". \n\nThat's when he looked me square in the eyes and said \"Bowser, you've always been my friend, but I need you to step off of this one.\" \n\nI was going to leave it alone, I really was, but when I found her in bed with that mushroom headed freak, I had to do something. ",
"Blood stained the concrete floor and walls of Sir Cunningham's cells. He could only imagine the horrors that had happened in the dungeon's past. Only one day was spent there, and he was served one meal that barely even resembled food. The windowless cell was cold and damp. Other cells lined the corridor, but they well all empty. \n\nBoot steps echoed down the corridor, and Cunningham looked up to see three guards marching toward him. The one in the center was dressed in white an obviously the highest ranking. He put his hand on the wall scanner. The locks on Cunningham' cell door clicked. \n\nAs the door creaked open, Cunningham prepared himself for another beating. As a knight, he'd been in his share of fights and nearly died several times. Never had he received a beating as severe as the one that the prince and princess gave him yesterday. If he ever got out of this mess, he would take pleasure in seeing both her and her husband face imperial justice. There was certainly enough evidence of their conspiracy to overthrow the king, and now he could add assault of an imperial knight to their charges. \n\nInstead of a beating, the guard simply told him to come. The other two guards trained their guns on Cunningham. All of Cunningham's bones ached, and it was humiliating to walk in tattered clothes. That bitch had stripped him of his army and his weapons. As the guards escorted him out of the dungeon, he passed another occupied cell. The man inside looked starved, and unkept. He wondered if the man deserved his fate, or if he too was wrongly imprisoned. \n\nSunlight burned Cunningham's eyes as they stepped outside onto the courtyard. Towers of the castle extended far above him, and twenty yards ahead was the usurping couple. Cunningham sneered as the guards brought him in front of them. \n\n\"Sir, the prisoner.\" The head guard gestured to Cunningham. \n\n\"Thank you.\" Prince Dan looked down at Cunningham with cold, stell eyes. \"Leave us.\"\n\n\"Yes sir.\" The trio of guards marched away and disappeared into the dungeon. \n\n\"I trust you have learned your lesson on meddling in affairs that do not concern you.\" Princess Lillain smirked with her thin lips. Her green dress flowed around as she stepped closer to Cunningham. \n\n\"It is irrelevant if he has learned his lesson. He will surely talk.\" \n\n\"Remove his tongue.\"\n\n\"He will still write.\"\n\n\"Sever his arms and legs. Burn out his eyes so that nobody else can write for him.\"\n\n\"A skilled mage can still extract the information from his head.\"\n\n\"Sounds like a lobotomy is in order.\" Lillain's green eyes looked into Cunningham's. He could not even try to hold back his terror. \"Leave him the wild and blame the orcs.\"\n\nLarge wings flapped in the air behind them. Neither of the traitors could hear it yet, and Cunningham did his best not to show interest. An alarm sounded and men rushed out the towers. A stream of fire blasted across the tower, instantly vaporizing most of the soldiers. Gunfire sprayed the dragon, and he quickly destroyed his attackers. Cunningham couldn't help but feel sorry for them; they had nothing to do with the plot cooked up by their nobility. \n\nKiglar perched on a building near Cunningham. \"Heard you required my assistance.\"\n\n\"You have heard correctly.\" \n\nDan pulled out pistol kept within his robe and pointed it at Cunningham's head. A blast of fire reduced him to ashes within seconds before he could pull the trigger. Lillain pulled up her dress to begin running. Kiglar leapt off the building and galloped after her. Teeth the size of swords pierced her body as he bit her in half. The skirt of her dress fell over to spill gore and blood onto the courtyard. \n\nKiglar extended a wing and let Cunningham climb onto his back. It was difficult to pull his weight up onto the large creature, but adrenaline carried him when guards busted out of the dungeon. Laser bolts exploded harmlessly on Kiglar's scales as he flew away. It was relieving to leave that dreadful castle behind. ",
"The blackened stone seemed to glimmer behind the shroud of smoke.\n\nThe scaly hide tensed.\n\nAnd pounced.\n\nA skyward claw emerged from the hellish abyss below. A single bridge dangled below the princess's precarious position--not that it mattered, as she could float around anyways.\n\nThe claw swung wide--\n\n--as she retaliated with a slap to the face. The draconic monster flew back, whirled around, and saw the night sky overhead.\n\nThe princess emerged from the pit.\n\n--grabbed him--\n\n--thrown to the side--\n\nA jet of steam shot forward but was too far away to touch her. She slammed her hand into the ground--\n\n--she plucked *it* out--\n\n*the* weapon\n\nThe shockwave sent the dragon careening skyward.\n\n\"Goddamn stitchface turnip gets me everytime!\"",
"He didnt fight her, but sort of the same story?\n\nI looked up at the giant mountain of stone, carefully chiselled to resemble some sort of monument. I know that to get past the first section I would need to scale the edges when there was no one looking, more of the filthy creatures were walking along the edges than usual. Slowly he crept through the water at the base, the creatures couldn’t see properly at this time of the day, and he had a distinct advantage, even tho he was twice the size of them. Slowly he pulled himself over the first lip and down into the trees beyond and braced to hear if some noise was made.\n\n After what felt like forever he decided he had not been discovered, I started stalking my way over to the main part of the mountain, I knew that the creature of silver which I had been trying to find was at the top, guarded by the dreaded hairy one, who had various bright colours, obviously to show just how poisonous it was. Once I reached the side, I had a look around, this side of the rock was covered in shadow, and as I was in all black I should be able to climb up without being noticed.\n\nI checked my scale armour, no scratches to show up as I was climbing, so I started Climbing up the side, sliding my claws into the gaps within the bricks and slowly pulling myself up using both my hands and feet. Half way up I paused as the moon came out of the clouds, lighting the area up a lot more, I didn’t take a breath the slightest movement could reveal me at this point, leaving me nowhere to run. Slowly the moon started getting obscured and with a sigh of relief I started climbing again.\n\nI soon reached the top and peaked just my head over the edge, all clear luckily, it looks as though the top was used mainly for some sort of ritual, and there was dark red stains, all around leaking from small containers and cruelly twisted pieces of wood everywhere with metal pushed into them. It was quite possibly one of the most unnatural scenes I had even seen, I knew that the silver creature held captive was somewhere on the top floor, I had been watching these cliffs for a long time, and the hairy one would never let him leave without accompanying him.\n\nWalking over to the hole down I realised that it was going to be a very tight fit, as it was designed for the smaller creatures and would require me to fold myself completely straight to enter it, Sticking my neck in the hole and having a look around I didn’t see anyone in the immediate vicinity, so I pulled myself together and stepped through the entrance. Once at the bottom I quickly checked around the corners, realising that there was 2 of the creatures standing in front of his door, some sort of guards no doubt. \n\nThinking about the best way to do this, I decided that I would need to make a statement, if these creatures wanted to hold something as gloriously silver as the other creature hostage, they needed to be destroyed, if I took out the creatures on the top floor quickly, I should be able to get to the roof, and use the wings I brought with me to glide to safety.\n\nI Sprung out of the shadows, Ripping one of the creatures straight to the ground with the claws I used for climbing, and then using my body weight to crush the other one before he could react, my claw stuck in the first one, I bit at the 2nd one, ripping into his throat, These things taste terrible, I spat as much of him as I could out before looking into the guarded room.\n\nThere, on a pile of wool in front of me was the hairy monster, along with a 2nd hairy monster, where the first one was hairy on top of its head, this new one was a lot bigger and hairy all over. To the side was the silver creature, hanging there with its head down off the wall as it was forced to endure the torment.\nQuickly, I grabbed the silver creature as the other two started making a huge amount of screeching, and I quickly ran to the hole up, the silver creature was a lot heavier than I expected, but was not resisting me at all, so must of realised I was trying to save it. Once I reached the hole I leapt up straight through it, dragging the silver creature behind me, with screeching occurring everywhere downstairs, and I realised I had woken up the entire hive in the mountain. There was light everywhere, fires burning out of control as the creatures stopped attending them and scurried about towards the main castle.\n\nFolding up the silver creature under my arm, I started running towards the edge, and leapt off, hoping that the weight me and the creature combined would not be too heavy, as I flew through the air I felt freedom and relief, from up here it was unlikely that the creatures would be able to reach me. Slowly I descended towards the earth, but for every body length that I fell, I went forwards two, resulting in me moving far beyond the mountains, and the strange fields of plants below, finally reaching the forest.\n\nThe Lord turned to his wife, the princess from the neighbouring kingdom, with her long flowing hair and asked “Did… that dragon just steal my armour?”\n",
"*There is only one genre in which this makes sense.*\n\n% nbsp; \n\n\"Fufufufu... Did you think you could defeat me? I am the *ETERNAL SOVEREIGN OF WOE*! You're nothing more than a magically enhanced *lizard*...\" the high pitched voice said, grinning throughout.\n\nThe gargantuan lizard growled, and prepared to strike at the humanoid enchantress, the Princess of the kingdom, who was using her comatose father as a shield to allow her to rule without the risk of assassination.\n\nThe dragon roared, and fire erupted from the depths of its throat.\n\n\"Your fire will not avail you against the *ETERNAL SOVEREIGN OF WOE*!\" The humanoid girl muttered, unscathed from the blaze.\n\nThe dragon glared, and flapped its wings, and swooped down at the little human-thing.\n\nIt shouted, before it chomped on the girl.\n\n\"I AM FIRE! I AM DEATH! YOU HAVE ANGERED THE WRONG CREATURE TODAY, WITCH!\"\n\nIt swallowed.\n\nThen a voice enamated in the air.\n\n\"Fufufufufufu... Did you think you could defeat me so easily? You just gave me access to your delicate inner organs! Perhaps I can pierce your heart, make it serve me rather than the pitful display of humanity held by Ser Bedevere.\"\n\nThe dragon growled.\n\n\"You will not touch my human, witch. NO MORE!\"\n\nThe dragon drew in its arcane energy, and erupted in flame, jettisonning the Princess out from its mouth, then repeatedly clawed at the girl in mid-air.\n\nThe princess pirouetted, and landed on a tower. \n\n\"Child's play.\"\n\nThe dragon's eyes widened. This witch was formidable indeed.\nIt would require training to defeat.\n\nThe dragon flew away, muttering \"next time, human. next time!\"",
"**\"Bros before hoes, bros before hoes. You dun goofed man.\"** he said to himself as he swooped down on the castle in the middle of town, aiming straight for the castle keep. The few defenders on the castle's roof fled in fear, their stubby legs propelling them away from his presence. Leaping down from the keep's roof to the front entrance, he landed with a quick roll on his back and stood up in front of the barred gate.\n\n**\"You should've listened to me, this princess was never in need of rescuing.\"** he muttered to himself as the wooden door flew into bits and he marched straight into the great hall. This place was familiar to him as until recently he had been a tolerated presence in these parts, even though the memories of his first reign of terror still prevailed amongst the inhabitants.\n\nAt the end of the room, a woman sat on a short chair with a pensive mien, and to her right was a bed. Inside it slept a portly man, his rotund figure covered by a blanket. Her eyes sparkled like sapphires as a mischievous smile appeared on her face, and she stood up.\n\n*\"So after that display of rage you put on the last time you were here, and disturbing our party with your displays of strength and wit, you think you're welcome here?\"* she said with a slight tinge of sarcasm. *\"I thought you would be taking care of your little whelp, after all, he takes after you, including that those orange hairs on your head and brows. Always wondered why a lizard like you would even have hair.\"*\n\n**\"Princess, don't indulge me, you know what I came here for. It's not you, I'm completely over my infatuation, not after you tried to kill me for singeing your hair. By kicking me with your stiletto heels and slapping me silly.\"** he snapped, and pointed to the sleeping figure on the bed **\"I'm here for him.\"** \n\n**\"He may not like me for not having known how to treat women right, but after being such an example of chivalry, I can't fault him.\"** He looked at his buddy, and all the times they fought each other over the most petty of things, one of which was in front of him right now.\n\nHer tone changed, and she changed her pose on her chair, leaning back on it and crossing her legs underneath her flowing skirt. *\"I would rather think he's been enjoying himself in my company, after all, guarding a princess can be quite... taxing.\"* She ended that statement with a smirk and what he thought was a wink.\n\nMoving forward, his face met hers, his eyes narrowing to thin slits. **\"Oh I know it is. Just as much as keeping her prisoner.\"** and he turned towards the sleeping form.\n\n**\"Now Peach, if you'll excuse me, I think Mario here needs to go back to his home.:\"**",
"This is just embarassing. It's bad enough that my son's inattentiveness led to him bedding that foul beast in the first place. What sort of imbecile thinks a king would order him to \"lay the dragon\" in the first place? It took us six months to stop him trying to sneak back out to her cave. It was another year before he'd consider a betrothal.\n\nIt took all my influence to arrange for him to marry a woman worthy of our family's station. I'll owe her father favors for the rest of my life. His reputation as \"the dragonf***er\" is a blemish we won't soon remove. But I found him a beautiful bride. She's spirited and strong, the kind of woman who will turn my idiot son's head away from any thought of dragons.\n\nSomehow she knew about the wedding. The dragon, I mean. That beast's amorous notions matched my son's. On the day of the union, she saw fit to darken our skies and \"rescue\" her beloved. She announced herself with a shrill roar that sent every horse in the yard into a panic. A lash of her tail toppled the west tower and covered the entrance to the armory. After she scorched our archers, the knights fled on foot. The few cowards who were too slow to seek shelter, she eviscerated.\n\nWhen she tore open the wall of the cathedral, it was the princess herself whose ferocity stayed the dragon for a time. She plucked a sword from the scabbard of a fleeing knight and swung it wildly at the face of that monster. Her pearl-white dress made her look like an enraged angel as she screamed and charged, believing she was protecting her husband-to-be.\n\nI may never fully understand why she lived. With a fireless breath, the dragon knocked her onto her back. The sword in her hand was removed effortlessly, and the dragon stared into her eyes for a long moment before moving on to my boy. The princess lay watching as he climbed atop the dragon's neck. \"I'm sorry, I never wanted this,\" I heard him say before they launched into the sky.\n\nI'm humiliated. I'm the lord who became father-in-law to a dragon, whose son broke his betrothal to a beautiful princess, and whose castle lies in ruins. My title is meaningless; the people have fled and the land is all I have. So I embrace my lot in life. My son and his...\"wife\" have come home to nest here. I feel as if I live in an asylum for the infirm.\n\nLet's not even speak of my grandchildren.",
"Once upon a time, a young man took a walk.\n\nHe walked away from the apartment he shared with the woman he had promised to marry.\n\nOnto a street he had passed many times before, but never set foot on.\n\nWhen he came across a wooded path, he followed it.\n\nAt the end, he found a dragon.\n\nIt had been so long since he had seen the creature, he almost didn't notice when it slinked from the deep shadows of evening.\n\nTime had not been kind to the dragon. It moved slowly, bones and muscles weak, joints rusty.\n\nIt's voice was raspy as it said, \"Sit with me, old friend.\"\n\nThe man took a seat on a fallen tree. The dragon settled next to him.\n\nFor a moment, neither spoke.\n\nThen, the dragon asked, \"Where did the knight go?\"\n\nThe man looked at the beast, not understanding the question.\n\n\"What happened to the boy who looked up into summer sky and saw a dragon, where everyone else saw a passing cloud? Who leapt from a cliff into a lake to escape my fiery breath? The boy who saw a knight when he looked at his reflection? Where did he go?\"\n\nThe man understood the question, but had no answer. He felt a heavy feeling in his chest. A feeling he got when he thought about work or the cost of the wedding or the next ten years of his life.\n\n\"I'm too old for imaginary friends,\" he said.\n\nThe dragon laughed.\n\n\"Were you too old when you were thirteen? The night your father left? You came into the backyard in tears, and we dueled for hours. You used a broken branch as your sword.\"\n\n\"Or when you were seventeen,\" the dragon continued. \"When you came in first place during that cross country meet, with me chasing on your heels the entire way.\"\n\nThe dragon laughed, the voice stronger now, tiny flames in his nostrils. \"And let's not forget college. You'd have flunked out if it weren't for the fact that I camped outside your dorm, night after night, keeping you in there with no option but to study.\n\n\"Or when you were twenty, and the princess you laid with asked for a bedtime story, and you delighted her with tales of the mighty battles we'd fought. What happened to her?\"\n\n\"Things didn't work out with that princess.\"\n\n\"And what of the princess you've promised yourself to now? What would she think if you whispered our tales in her ear?\"\n\nAgain, the young man felt that heavy feeling in his chest.\n\n\"The knight I knew wouldn't feel shame about his past adventures. He wouldn't promise himself to a woman he had to hide the best parts of himself from. He wouldn't spend his days locked away from the sky to afford gifts to purchase her affection. He wouldn't promise away the rest of his life out of fear.\n\n\"You've never slain me, but you'll kill me all the same. I'm already an echo in your heart. Let the forge of your imagination go cold, and I promise you, I will be the least of what you miss in this life.\"\n",
"Knights. Despicable creatures, most of them, anyway. One of them was knocking on my door and jarred me awake. I groggily rose and opened the chamber door to let in only a sliver of light. I looked down, and surely enough there stood one of those sparkly jerks. Why did they always have to wear such shiny armor? The glare was severely aggravating my unadjusted eyes. The irritation was just right for making me the cranky dragon they expected to face.\n\n\"*Augh!* Who dares disturb my slumber?\"\n\n\"It is I, Yorrick the Mighty! I shall vanquish you to prove my strength.\"\n\n\"Yeah, that's what they all say, kid,\" I scoffed. For such bold words, the thing that stood before me really was only a boy. He looked as though he was drowning in metal, for the suit was clearly too big for him. He insisted that I succumb to his will, but I wasn't buying his act. I had no intention of tearing him down, however, so I asked, \"Well, what distinguishes you from the rest?\"\n\n\"I am the son of Jorrick, of Blaukinschpul.\"\n\n\"Jorrick? Of Blaukinschpul? Trained by the legendary Honey Badger who gave no shits and defeated the troll-wizard Zorlok?\"\n\n\"The very same.\"\n\nI could not believe my ears, and excitement took hold of me. I opened the door wide and roared, \"Yorrick, my boy, I *knew* your father! In fact, he and I were best friends from the time we were smaller than you!\"\n\nAt this, he seemed more shocked than I. \"I--I'm not sure I can believe you. My father never said anything about being friends with a *dragon*, much less the one I've been sent to kill.\"\n\nThis struck me hard. \"He...sent you to kill me?\"\n\n\"He said to kill *a* dragon, anyway, and I suppose you were the closest one to be found.\"\n\n\"Well, I suppose there are no hard feelings, then. Come in, come in,\" I said as I ushered the lad into my home. \"I can't blame him for not informing you. I'm sure your mother would be highly against it.\"\n\n\"You knew my mother, too?\"\n\n\"Ermm...yes and no. Let me tell you a story, Yorrick, son of Jorrick.\"\n\n>Ages ago, when your father was no more than three years old, his father Dorric discovered me as an egg on one of his treasure campaigns, and I was brought to their home. There I hatched, and instead of killing me as all other young dragons are, your grandfather decided that Jorrick and I would be raised side by side; for no one in the land had ever successfully trained a dragon, and he wanted to be first. It was beneficial for all of us, especially me and Jorrick. We quickly bonded, and by the time we reached our prime, he and I embarked on many an adventure together: gathering treasure, rounding up the maidens, slaying monsters, all the knightly spiel. All was splendid in our lives, and we felt that together, we were unstoppable.\n>\n>Until Princess Tabitha came into the picture.\n>\n>She was a stunning specimen of a woman, hair finer than the softest silk, skin paler than freshly drawn milk from a heifer...and her eyes, those captivating emerald eyes...eyes that took hold of luckless men and never let go.\n>\n>These very same eyes rested their gaze upon Jorrick, and immediately he was smitten. From the day she arrived in Blaukinschpul onward, he could never release her from his thoughts. Everything he did was for her; every monster he slayed was in her name; every piece of gold he claimed, he gave to her. He stopped fooling with other women altogether--admirable to be sure, but it certainly put a thorn in our party schedules. I understood there was no reason to hold it against him; it was certain that every man would succumb to the heart's desires. But his motives were changed. No longer did he venture into the darkness for the sake of spreading light and hope; instead, he aimed to serve a mere woman--granted, a fine one, but a woman nonetheless.\n>\n>My qualms with the matter may have been fewer had Tabitha acted differently toward your father. Every noble display of affection and generosity from him was met with a certain coldness. Yet, she kept him bound to her daily, and he always answered her calls on a whim. Surely, I thought, this could not be love. At the very least, she was using him, but more often than not, I feared the worst. She always seemed threatened by my presence. Understandable, considering that I am a ferocious fire-spitting creature with an occasional temper, but always I did my best to be amicable with her. But when our eyes met, hers would go ablaze with a fury never before seen. Something was very wrong. I had to find out what.\n>\n>Unfortunately, there was no time for my detective work, for Jorrick and Tabitha were soon betrothed. Tabitha wanted to be alone with your father in the days before the wedding ceremony, so they went to a remote castle in the mountains. They had no escorts, and as I was Jorrick's main mode of transportation, he was never properly trained to drive a horse. Thus, Tabitha took the reins, and they were off. I was left behind. Alone. And my brother and best friend was with his wife-to-be. Alone. With no way out.\n>\n>In that solitude, doubt slowly ate its way into my core. I knew something had to be wrong. No one goes into seclusion *before* a wedding, not for this long, not that far away. I let my intuition guide me, and I departed from the city. I was frantic to get to the castle as soon as possible; I flapped my wings hard against the falling snow.\n>\n>When I arrived, I approached the towers first, figuring that I'd have more luck finding one of or both of them there. The first window I looked into showed me what I was looking for--though it was not what I would have expected, nor wished to see.\n>\n>Tabitha had Jorrick chained to the wall, on his knees, shirtless, covered with small lacerations, and bathing in his own blood. She stood over him with a knife in hand, slowly cutting into his defenseless flesh. He could not resist, for he was in a trance; the same emerald hue that inhabit her shining orbs now took hold of his formerly hazel irises.\n>\n>Enraged, I bellowed and smashed through the stone wall. ***\"Let him alone, Tabitha!\"***\n>\n>She turned, let out a blood-curdling screech, and ran at me with the dagger. She stabbed me right in the chest, barely missing my vitals. I bellowed again, and before she could escape, I grabbed her, lifted her into the air, and dropped her down the side of the mountain. Her body tumbled, striking many rocks. But I had to be sure the she-devil was dead. I swooped down to her body and breathed the most furious fire I could muster upon her. The corpse crackled and bubbled in the flame.\n>\n>I flew back up to the tower, and there stood Jorrick, eyes clearer than they had been in months. After the spell was broken, he regained his strength and broke free of his bonds. With crystal clarity, he laid his gallant gaze upon me. His lips were silent, but his eyes said, \"Thank you, brother. I would have been lost without you.\"\n>\n>I received his gratitude with my own eyes. Then our shared moment of brotherly intimacy was overcome with the realization of the atrocity that occurred. I had brutally murdered his betrothed, and though I saved his life, there would be no avoiding the law. I would have to leave Blaukinschpul forever to survive.\n>\n>After I dropped your father off at the entrance to the city, I never saw him again. \n\n\"Wait,\" said the lad with skeptical blue eyes (for he had early on removed his ill-fitting helmet). \"Tabitha's not my mother's name; it's Marianne.\"\n\n\"Yes, I know. After my departure, I found this place and stayed in contact with Lord Honey Badger for a few years, and he kept me informed on your father via letters delivered by owls.\"\n\n\"Owls? You must be ancient! They stopped using owls before I was born.\"\n\n\"Yeah, thanks,\" I muttered. \"I guess that explains why I never heard about you, lad.\"\n\nThen we sat there in silence, he cross-legged with his hands on his lap, and me with my chin in hand.\n\n\"So this is all well and good,\" Yorrick began, \"but what am I supposed to do now? I'd feel awful about killing a dragon after what you've told me.\"\n\nI chuckled. \"Well, can you start off with telling your father that you've found me, perhaps? He and I can train you to be a fantastic knight, and then we'll have all sorts of adventures. It will be like old times!\"\n\n\"Haha, old. Because you're both really old.\"\n\n\"You may look like Jorrick, but you have yet to develop his maturity.\"\n\n\"Says the dragon who whines like a baby about little boys waking him up in the morning!\"\n\n\"I assure you, you would too.\"\n\nI could tell then that Yorrick would certainly, given enough time, grow to be a *fine* knight. \n\nJust like his father.\n\n___\n\nEdit: added those last two sentences. I thought it made for a slightly better ending.",
"I burst through the door. Splinters fly everywhere but they are quickly incinerated by a burst of flame from my mouth. I smell burning hair, burning silk, burning flesh. Aha! I got her. Blonde-haired, pink-dressed bitch.\n\nI walk into the room, stepping over the pile of ash that used to be the princess, and towards the huge four-poster bed. I draw the velvet curtains.\n\n\"Help!\" yells the knight.\n\n\"Don't worry, I'm here now,\" I say.\n\nWith my dagger-like claws, I unpick the fuzzy pink handcuffs to free my love.",
"“But baaaaabe,” Azernoth whined, casting his out arms wide and sinking back into the scarlet cushions of his favorite balcony chair, “I want to watch the game!” His seeing glass, nestled between the merlons of the eastern tower’s parapet, fell askew on its tripod. In the distance the cries of merry men could be heard in the courtyard as they prepared for what was to be one of the greatest football matches of the year. \n\nThe sound was overtaken as the clinking of cobbled heels upon stone grew louder. A woman, lifting her long, flowing pink dress above her ankles, quickly descended down upon her husband. She had a duster in one hand, which she brandished menacingly at Azernoth. “Not until you’ve swept the living quarters clean, you won’t!” she barked. “Never mind all of the other chores you keep ignoring. When will you ever grow up and help me keep this place clean!?”\n\nAzernoth raised his hands in mock defense as the duster, wielded by Princess Anielia, dove repeatedly towards his head. “But babe, I spent all of yesterday cleaning up after Sir Oinksalot! I deserve a break!”\n\n“You didn’t clean up after him,” she shouted in exasperation, “you took him out of his pen and scrubbed him down so that you could eat him.” She pointed the duster off to the left, where, sure enough, the good Sir was now rotating on a spit above a small fire with an apple in his mouth.\n\nBefore Azernoth could respond, a giant thud impacted against the tower, shaking it. Anielia sighed, cursing under her breath. She already knew what the noise meant, and it would only be a complication in her quest to get her husband to do his weekly housework. Letting out a deep breath, she turned and took a step back into the tower. Across the room, perched upon the other balcony, a dragon attempted to poke its head in through the balcony door. \n\nA large, dopey voice filled the chamber. “Hi Anielia, can Azernoth come out and play today!” The dragon, a green zweibeiner, grinned madly from ear to ear.\n\n“No, Leerkopf, he cannot come out and play today. He has many chores he needs to do. Maybe tomorrow he can play with you, but not today.” \n\nAzernoth, sensing a solution to his predicament, rose up from his chair. “Please, babe! I promised him yesterday that I would play with him! You wouldn’t want me to break a promise, now would you?”\n\n“Oh, pretty please! Pretty please with sugar on top!” The dragon bellowed. \n\n“See, just look at that face!” Azernoth pleaded. Leerkopf scaly face contorted into an expression resembling that of a sad puppy.\n\n“No!” Anielia bellowed, grabbing her husband by the shirt and dragging him into the room. In a swift movement she slammed the door behind him and locked it, pulling the key out. She then turned on Leerkopf, pushed his head out the door, slamming it shut while withdrawing the key. “He doesn’t leave until he does his chores! I’ve had enough of this!” \n\nWith that she thrust the duster into Azernoth’s hands. “I’ll free you when you’ve finished your chores. Until then, I’m locking you in the tower!”\n\n“But babe!”\n\n“No buts! By the gods, you’re like a child! A spoiled child!”\n\nWith that she stormed down the stairwell, slamming the door behind her. The sound of the lock turning echoed throughout the chamber. A voice drifted in from behind the balcony door. “She seems really mad today, Az, maybe I should just come back again tomorrow.” \n\n“No!” Azernoth shouted, “You can’t leave me here! You’ve got to rescue me. Rescue me from the princess!”\n\n“I don’t know, Az…” \n\n“Please, buddy? I’ll let you eat part of Oinky if you set me free!” \n\nThis seemed to catch the dragon’s attention. “Aw man, you know I always wanted to eat him! But I don’t wanna be yelled at by Anielia…she’s scary…” \n\n“If you rescue me, buddy, we can go far away from here! To a place where there are no chores, and we can eat Sir Oinksalot and any of his relatives anytime we want! We can watch football, drink mead, and make the bards sing for us whenever we please!” \n\n“Okay, Az, I’ll break you out!”\n\n*******\n“And so,” the man said, resting the book upon his lap, “the dragon took to the skies and, with a great burst of flame from its mouth, burned the door away and freed the noble knight from the princess’s cruel trap. They flew far, far away, to a magical land where beer flowed from the taps, football was played at all hours, and no one had to do a single chore, ever. The end.” \n\nA tiny girl of no more than six, tucked within her blankets, looked up at her father in the soft glow of the lamplight. \n\n“I don’t think that’s how it happened.” She said. \n\n“Of course it is!” the father grinned, reaching out and ruffling the little girl’s long, blonde hair. \n\n“No,” another voice broke in, coming from the doorway, “I think she’s right. I don’t think that’s what happened, at all.” \n\nThe father cursed under his breath. The little girl began to smile. \n\nCrossing the space between them, the mother, removing her hands from the pockets in her pink hoodie, laid them upon her husband’s shoulders. A golden retriever followed after her, with a big dopey grin on its face. She leaned in, her long blond hair falling upon his head, tickling his ear. \n\n“Tell her about the one with the knight who, having failed to do his chores slept all alone on his couch that night, with only his dimwitted dragon to keep him company.” \n",
"\"King me.\"\n\n\nI looked at the board. I handed her a white piece, grinning as she took it from me. My claws could barely pick the pieces up, let alone stack them on top of each other.\n\n\nHere I was, a dragon without a hostage, trying to free a knight from a princess. And what did I have to do in order to free him? \n\n\n\"Hup hup hup! Your turn!\"\n\n\nPlay checkers.\n\n\nGranted, it was the Queen of the West, fiercest fire magician in the world. Her fireballs engulfed entire nations, she scorched the entire Blackforest wood! She even tamed the troll caves in the north.\n\n\nAnd she was only four.\n\n\nYes, this small blond child, cute dimples, high pitched voice and bright orange dress was a nation destroying, fire burning, kidnapping genius. \n\n\n\"Uhhh... here... to here.. to here... to...here... king me!\" I said triumphantly.\n\n\nShe stack a black piece onto mine. Her grin was spun upside down. She took a hard look at the board, staring it down, thinking it would give her an answer.\n\n\nDid I mention she had mastered the four Master languages? Not even the champion scribes of old knew even *one* of them, let alone four.\n\n\n\"Hup, hup, hup...hup...hrmm... hup!\" She had taken another four of my pieces. My chances at winning were fast burning up.\n\n\nIt was my turn to stare the board down. I had three pieces left, one king and two additional pieces, pawns in a game of... checkers...\n\n\n*Oh the odd things in life.*",
"It had started with a scream. Jeremiah, like a good knight, had followed the scream, and barged into the room where it originated. What he found was his betrothed, Lillian, with her skirts hiked up and the princess on her knees.\n\nThey dueled, and while Jeremiah really was a good knight, Princess Verona was simply better. Not only that, but they weren't even physically fighting. According to a maid and butler that had been watching everything whilst in the closet, Verona had challenged Jeremiah to a dancing duel. \n\nIn their words, Verona had requested to dance, and Jeremiah had taken out his sword. She had laughed at him immediately and began to “release the grooviest moves ever seen” (the maid) and “shook those hips like newly-made jelly just prodded” (the butler). Also according to them, when Jeremiah had danced, Verona had said “Is he having a seizure?” to which Lillian had replied “He's like that in bed, too.” At that point, Jeremiah had apparently burst into tears. The maid and butler had ran to get assistance, and when a train of guards and curious onlookers went up the tower ten minutes later, they were gone.\n\nAll three of them.\n\nDingles, frankly, didn't care. Dingles just wanted to leave his job, and maybe settle down with another nice dragon and live in a clan again. But no, Dingles had been caught as a child and then raised to do these stupid, menial, dangerous tasks. Nobody wanted to face Princess Verona, for even the people that could fight her wanted no royal blood on their hands. Either that, or they rightfully feared for their lives.\n\nBut a dragon? Nobody cared if a hunting-dragon died. Dingles was a nodragon. Replaceable. Around his neck was a collar, enchanted and impossible to take off—and the worst part was that if he did not complete the task within the timeframe given, it would kill him. If he went to join a dragon clan, they would laugh at him. And in truth, there was nothing Dingles hated more than true solitude. So he kept it on, and kept doing their jobs.\n\nThis was the worst job Dingles had ever done. Generally he just chased down thieves or bandits or maybe helped a kitten down from a tree. But to face the fearsome warrior and pro-dancer herself... Dingles shuddered to himself, and he blinked a few times to shake the terror away. His large, bright eyes swept across the ferns. Recent travelers had said they had seen someone similar to Lillian, collecting berries off bushes in Fervvel Forest, so he had come here and had been searching for a clue.\n\nDespite all of that, it was still a surprise when Dingles came across the lady herself. Lillian was, as the rumors said, beautiful. She had dark, smooth skin, and pale blue eyes, framed with long lashes. Her hair was a glorious raven river, spilling past her elbows to her hips. Upon seeing Dingles, her pretty gaze glazed over, berry-stained lips rounded. She blinked, and her lovely mouth opened.\n\n“Aw, shit,” Lillian said. She turned away, skirts rustling with the motion. “VERONA!” And the lady sprinted off.\n\nDingles groaned, and began to thunder after her. He would not fly well in the forest, with all the trees, so he was reduced to lumbering after the girl. To make it worse, she was outpacing him. He was about to turn away when the princess came into sight.\n\nShe was dressed in a simple dress with short sleeves. When she reached out to touch Lillian's face, he saw the definition in her arms. Princess Verona was clearly tanned by the sun, but all it did was make her skin fair rather than porcelain white.\n\n“Dragon-sir,” Princess Verona said, icy and courteous. “I believe I do understand why you are here.”\n\n“I am here to take back Jeremiah,” Dingles said, voice holding a note of frustration.\n\nVerona's green eyes flashed. “I apologize, but you cannot take him. If you truly want to, we must duel.”\n\nDingles groaned. Perhaps solitude would be better. “Alright, alright.”\n\nVerona gave him a serious look, and drew her sword out of the ornate sheath upon her hips. That was when a dark-haired man came running in. He was panting, and ran a hand over his face.\n\n“Lillian, the soup is burning,” he said. Lillian gasped and Verona touched her arm, a clear signal that it was alright to leave. As she left, the man stood up straighter and finally noticed Dingles. He gave Verona a questioning look, but suddenly his expression was stricken.\n\n“Don't worry, Jeremiah.”\n\n“Please don't fight over me! Oh, gods. Verona!” Jeremiah turned to Dingles. “I'm Jeremiah. I...I...I can explain.”\n\n“Please do,” Dingles said.\n\n“Alright,” Jeremiah said, “So, uhm, it turns out Verona and Lillian are in love. And uhm, in truth, I...I didn't mind, but, uhm, she said we should duel...”\n\n“I didn't know you back then,” Verona reminded him, and gave him a friendly smile which he returned.\n\n“And, uhm, we did, and uhm, I mean...There was a moment of badness between us, but...We resolved it.”\n\n“He cried and it was kind of cute,” Verona informed. “He was quite kind and embarrassed. I immediately regretted my words and my decisions.”\n\n“T-thank you. Anyways, in truth, I...I didn't want to be married, yet. I felt so awkward around Lillian, and in bed it was so weird, but maybe that was because she was a, well, lesbian.” At that, Verona looked at Dingles and transmitted a clear message: It wasn't 'cause Lillian was a lesbian. “I told Verona this, and I told her that...to be honest, I didn't want to be a knight, either.”\n\nDingles stared at him. “What?”\n\n“I want to be a priest,” Jeremiah admitted. “Ah, it's just that my brother said I had the makings of a knight, but I've come to realize my true feelings.”\n\n“Wouldn't he look good in white?” Lillian said, approaching out from the bushes. She smelled of a rich stew. “Anyways, that's the story.”\n\nDingles pressed his hands against his eyelids, feeling a headache beginning. Finally, he took them away and studied his talons. A long silence hung between them, punctuated only by Jeremiah mumbling “I'm hungry” and a soft noise that seemed to be someone patting his head in comfort.\n\n“I have to take Jeremiah,” Dingles said, voice resigned.\n\n“No! Please. I like being with them, and they promised to take me to a clergy near the castle.” Jeremiah looked at him, eyes sad. “Please.”\n\n“I was ordered by your father to—”\n\n“My father just thinks I've disappeared! I will send him a letter as soon as we're in the next city, I promise you. He will not punish you.”\n\n“It's not that,” Dingles said, exasperated. “My collar. If I don't return you in a month, I'm dead.”\n\nVerona's face lit up. “I'll take it off.” Dingles was about to protest, but Verona was already stepping to him, and in heartbeat she was there, her fingers around the steel.\n\n“You can't,” Dingles said.\n\n“I can,” Verona said, confident and gentle and beautiful, and Dingles realized why Lillian loved her. At that exact moment, the steel came apart, and Dingles' eyes widened, his claws pressing softly against the scales there. It was off. His chain, his boundary, his limit—it was gone. He could do anything, now. No dragon would laugh at him; he could not be punished.\n\n“How?” he asked, stunned. Verona grinned, brilliant and full of light.\n\n“I'm the Princess,” she said, “I have higher power than the masters that caught you.” She watched him for a moment as tears welled up in his eyes. “Would you like to come with us?”\n\nDingles looked up, confused. “What?”\n\n“Come with us to the castle. On the way there, maybe you can find a place you want to go. You don't have anywhere to go right now after all, right?” Dingles nodded, and a shadow passed over Verona's face. “I mean, you don't have to come with us,” she added hastily, “I'm not trying to force you—”\n\n“No, I do,” said Dingles, the words trembling with emotion. In that moment, his heart felt suddenly soothed and softened, and all was fine.\n\nAnd then, Jeremiah's stomach rumbled.\n\nThe knight—no, soon-to-be-priest—blushed, and Lillian and Verona looked at another and laughed. After a brief moment, Dingles joined in.\n\nWhen the laughter died, they went to eat.",
"I stare at the princess. She was such an elegant, kind person. Until she forced my master, Knight George, to marry her. My master already liked a young, peasant girl. I don't even know why. I mean, she's just a peasant! But I guess love is a different kind that I cannot understand. \n\n\"Coroth, hey?\" the evil empress guesses, her relaxing manner pissing me off. She looked so laid-back. Like nothing happened.\n\n\"Lila, isn't it?\" I ask, right back to her, \"or should I say wannabe Lady Dame?\"\n\nThe monarch glares at me. \"I'm no wannabe,\" she argues, boastful, \"I'm getting married to George tomorrow.\" She flashes a bright smile. I scowl at her cheerful atmosphere.\n\n\"My father has already set the marriage,\" she explains, \"we will have many children and have a beautiful family!\"\n\nI spit in disgust, sparks of fire dancing from my spit. \"My master does not love you, you witch! He likes a kind woman, one with an open heart. Now he is only a captive, forced into marrying such a horrid woman like you!\"\n\nThe crowned head slaps my cheek. \"Shut up, you little brute!\" the princess pouts, \"you don't know anything. He will have to marry me, no matter who his heart belongs to.\" She cackles evilly.\n\nI smack my tail into the woman's face, overthrowing her onto the ground. I cannot hold the urge to kill her.\n\n\"Hehe,\" the girl giggles, \"so you wanna play the game, hey? Guards!\" Under her command, many guards appear from behind the trees, holding weapons and bows. \n\nI narrow my eyes and open my mouth, casting out the flames of fire. Men are killed and many are injured. \n\nThe princess laughs. \"That is only my first wave, Coroth.\"\n\nShe puts her hands together, forming a magical orb between her palms. She smirks a malicious smirk. At last, once the orb is large enough, Lila shoots the powerful sphere to my chest. Reacting quickly, I form a golden shield, blocking the ball away. The princess keeps on pressing the orb, trying to force open the shield. I toss a fireball from my mouth to the princess.\n\n\"AHH!\" the malevolent teenager screams, trying to dodge the warm flame. \n\nI lift off, flying overhead the palace. I finally see a tower with my master, tied to a pole. I land and burn all the guards.\n\n\"Master! Master!\" I yell, \"wake up!\" My master's head is tilted to the side, his eyes closed. I tore the ropes with my sharp teeth and slide Knight George onto my back. \n\n\"Go! Get him!\" I can hear the princess's voice screeching as they notice the sight of me, carrying her lover on my back. \n\nI beat my wings against the wind, ignoring her useless calls. Guards try to shoot arrows at me but I dodge all of them. I have to save my owner. I duck the clouds and my eyes avoid the stinging sight of the sun. Finally, I notice a fort of ours in the distance. We can't live in the King's castle anymore. I swoop down a bit, ready for landing.\n\n\"Hold on tight,\" I whisper to my master, hoping he can hear somehow, despite his condition. ",
"Well, even I know that this is backwards. But what do you want from me ? Gold is more enticing to me than maintaining appropriate roles. Although, I do agree that messing with the status quo doesn’t do anyone much good, it’ll be chaos before you know it. \n\nFor one thing, I was not aware they knew we could talk. They being humans, and we being, well, dragons. We do not talk in the traditional sense, but dragons contain an ancient and powerful form of magic. We have lost the art, for the most part, but we are still able to perform some of our old tricks. We communicate, as you would put it, telepathically. There was a time when most humans knew this, when we co-existed in relative peace, before dragons became the enemy. \n\nIn my opinion, humans did not accidently forget that we were able to communicate. You see, dragons have always had somewhat of an affinity for gold. Humans soon noticed this, and they wanted all of our gold for themselves. Humans never do things by halves; of course they needed all of it. It is simply easier to convince men and women to despise and hunt something when you believe it is a beast, incapable of speech. \n\nI couldn’t tell you exactly when we started kidnapping princesses, probably about the time that they started to slaughter us. Eye for an eye, that sort of thing. At first, we simply wanted to trade, we’ll give you back your wife or daughter when you return our gold. Yet again, we underestimated the extraordinary greed of man. \n\nApologies, I became side-tracked. In a cruel twist of fate, a deranged Princess Ophelia has kidnapped the brave knight Sir. Eldard, it falls to me to retrieve him safely. Brave is quite the relative term, Eldard killed my cousin and crippled my sister. But they offered me much gold to retrieve him, their only stipulation was alive, he won’t miss a limb or two. \n\nSo here I stand, or rather crouch, in the forest surrounding Princess Ophelia’s tower. Yes, in an effort to be even more of a cliché, she is keeping the brave knight in an isolated tower, on an Island in the heart of her kingdom. This is where I came in, in the depth of the night I can travel fairly well undetected. And anyway, if I was revealed, it would probably be in everyone’s best interest if they just allowed me to continue on my way. I don’t make a habit of killing or maiming. If I’m honest, I actually haven’t ever killed a human, but then I am young, at least by my kind’s standards. I prey on cattle and sheep in the farmlands around my home, rotating between the different farms and never taking more than I need. The bones scattered around my cave (yes, we live in caves) I retrieve from battlefields. There is never a shortage of those, these days. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not strictly speaking, a pacifist. I have inherited from my ancestor’s, a certain fire in the belly, every pun intended. \n\nI’m doing it again, sorry. I guess part of me is stalling, I may not be a pacifist, but I do not relish violence either. The Princess is young and beautiful, I’m told. Her Kingdom has been at war with the knight’s for many years, and things have begun to go South. In an act of desperation, the Princess and her loyal followers kidnapped Eldard and are holding him to ransom. They do not want gold however, she simply wishes for the war to end. It won’t work, I saw the look in the King’s eyes when he spoke to me. She should’ve asked for gold, I would have. \n\nWith a flap of my powerful wings, I surge from the forest and towards the dark tower. Now, as you probably know, I don’t generally fit through human-sized doors. I notice a large window on the far-side of the tower. I can hear her heartbeat. She’s sleeping. She’s alone. I should act now. She’s a woman, barely out of her teens, small and weak. I am a dragon, to call it child’s play would be both inaccurate and an understatement. And yet, something stays my talon. I do not usually become involved in the petty affairs of humans, but something about her plight, the sheer desperation. I can see her thoughts; she has lost three brothers to this war, and a father now lies stricken. I know of her pain, I too have lost those I loved, and the man I lost them to sleeps in this very tower. \nFor first time in my life, I am considering abandoning a quest for gold. What am I doing ? Am I really considering this ? My whole life, I have been told never to engage with humans. They are savages just want your gold and your hide. Yet, she feels, gentle. I reach out to her.\n\n“Ophelia, I would say do not panic, but I would probably panic too, in your position. I have been sent here by King Rasmos to retrieve the knight. I know he is here.”\n\nThe girl sat bolt upright in her bed, eyes wide with panic and she frantically scanned the room, looking for the source of the deep, rich voice.\n\n“Who’s there ? Where are you ? Show yourself, I’m armed.”\n\nI do the dragon equivalent of a smile.\n\n“No you’re not. Princess, I do not mean to alarm you, so forgive me if I do not reveal myself to you. Know this though, I mean you no harm.”\n\nThe King had offered me a sizeable bonus to take care of the Princess and her followers as well.\n\n“Forgive me if I do not believe that, all of Rasmos’ men are brutes. I am calling for my guards. I cannot allow you to leave here, now that you know of our location.”\n\n“Luckily for you, I am not one of Ramsos’ men. Listen to me Ophelia, I can help you. The King promised me much to retrieve Eldard, but you see, I can read the King. He is a greedy and unscrupulous man. I do not believe he will make good on his offer. I know too of the pain and loss that comes with war. Give me the knight and I will return him from whence he came.”\n\n“No ! I cannot allow that, he is our only leverage. This war must end, too many lives have already been lost.”\n\n“That is the way of men, Ophelia. If it is not this, they will find other reasons to kill and maim one another. I did ask your permission to take the knight, but I do not require it. Know this though, the King will never give in to your demands, not simply for the knight. I propose a trade, give me the knight and I will return with more leverage, in the form of his sons.”\n\n“Why would I ever trust you ?”\n\nI knew then, what I must do.\n\n“Close your eyes Ophelia, and see my true form, see my heart. You see, my kind cannot lie to those pure of heart and intention. Do you trust me now ?”\n\n“I... How did you do that ? What are you ?”\n\n“I am one who has also suffered at the hand of Rasmos’ men. I will return.”\n\nWith that, I turned my attention to the sleeping knight. I could easily have extracted him from his prison, with more tact, but I am a dragon, after all. I tear open the roof and unleash all my fury into the room, not waking him nearly as gently as I did the Princess. Reaching out a talon, I pluck him from his bed and take off into the night. \n\n“Where are you taking me Dragon ?”\n\nThere was no fear in his voice, only disdain, as if it insulted him to be in my presence.\n\n“I am taking you home, knight. Be still, the King sent me.”\n\nHe relaxed then and sat in smug silence. \n\nWe flew all through the night and come dawn, we returned to his realm. Locating the palace, I called out with my mind to the king, asking him to come to his balcony to greet us. \n\nThen, I begin to fly up, higher and higher I fly. I would return Eldard to the King, I would return him from the Heavens to which he sent my brethren.\n\n I can feel his fear as I open my talon. Feel the fear my kin felt when you slaughtered them, you savage. \n\nI killed my first human today. I am a dragon, after all.\n",
"*NSFW for langauge. Edit: Derpy grammar* \n\nIt’s been so long since I took this form, but well, sometimes you just gotta squeeze it in and hope for the best.\n\nWe’re sitting at a pink table, the princess and I, guards standing all around. It reminds me of the set back home, if I was a tasteless mortal with a smile as empty as my head.\n\n\"It's Shyroth, isn't it?\" I ask, propping up my own smile. Hopefully I got the teeth right this time, and they don't end in points.\n\nShe responds quickly, three to four seconds, including blinking time. \"Shyra, actually. My name is. Shyra Tavindale.\"\n\nPerhaps the potion was a little too strong. \"Yes yes, Shyra of Tavindale. Did you happen to see a man in shining armour hereabouts?\"\n\nShyra blinks. \"A knight?\"\n\nHunh. I don't know what’s more surprising, that she knew the word for it, or that she responded so quickly.\n\"Yes, a knight, his name is Bill and he's my -\"\n\n\"A knight?\" Her voice has gone harsh, with a quality that reminds me of the goats pens back home. \"A knight?\"\nThe knife’s in her hand before I can reply. She points it at right at me, squinting with those large blue eyes. Oh, humans.\n\n\"Put that thing down, girl.” A strand of silver hair comes undone, and I blow it to the side. “He showed up drunk didn't he? Maybe offered to spend the night with you, settle down, have a few kids -\"\n\n\"He showed up piss drunk, yes, then vomited all over my dress. Do you what the king will do when he gets back?\"\n\nUh oh. The dumbing-potion is wearing off. Perhaps I got the dosages wrong this time. \"Ah… Well, just hand him over, please. I'd like to leave.\"\n\nHer face has turned a purple tinge. \"And who are you? Hmm? Some two cent -\"\n\n\"My name is Khaleesa, and I am a motherfucking dragon.\" My hand, so pink and wobbly, turns into a claw for a split second, then back to its fleshy digits.\n\nThe princess's face goes white. She takes a moment to respond, mouth opening and closing like a whore’s skirt on a summer night. \"The… The king...” She slumps. “Alright. My guards will bring him down.\"\n\nA few minutes later Bill comes down the stairs, all stumbly. He's a good actor, I'll give him that. A cheerful wave back at the princess, and off we go.\n\nWe're a safe distance away from the castle before I speak.\n\n\"Well? Did you get the Picassus?\"\n\nHis smile grows wider, hard as that is to believe, and he reaches inside his breastplate. What comes out is a ragged canvas, sloppy cut lines at the endges. It’s supposed to be a painting, but all I see are little lines and colours mushed together. Guess that’s Picassus for you.\n\n\"Hunh. I can restore that back in the cave.\"\n\n\"You could've come a few days later, really. I'd almost convinced her to blow me.\"\n\n\"Yeah, maybe if I'd slipped you a love potion like last time. But we both know how that turned out, didn't we?\"\n\nHe sighs. \"How was I supposed to know they would switch cups? Besides, it wasn't so bad. He was very eager.”\n\n\"...\"\n\nBill starts whistling, and I start rolling my shoulders, ready to transform back.\n\n\"How many years left in my contract, again?\"\n\nBill grins. \"3 years.\"\n\nHey, that's not so bad. 3 years more than I would've liked, but -\n\n\"... In dragon years. So, 3 decades.\" He winks.\n\nOh, humans.\n",
"Itzqa was five hundred forty seven years old. Still young, as dragons go. But even for his age, Itzqa was small, and a human child could scarcely feel his weight if he stood on the child's palm. Yet Itzqa was filled with curiosity, and loved to explore the human world despite how weak and vulnerable he was.\n\nSo it was that one day, while exploring a forest, Itzqa happened upon a man sleeping while fishing in a stream. His face was covered in hair, his body was covered in armor, and at his belt there was a sword. To Itzqa he looked quite silly, and the small creature burst out laughing.\n\nHearing the laughter, the man awoke, and saw the laughter was coming from the dragon. \"Friend!\" the man cried, \"Why do you laugh so?\"\n\n\"Your whiskers!\" the dragon replied, \"They look so silly on you! Wherever did you get them?\"\n\n\"Once,\" the man replied, \"I caught a carp and I ate it whole, but its whiskers became stuck, and they are still on my face to this day.\"\n\nThe dragon continued to laugh. \"Friend!\" the man cried, \"Why do you laugh so?\"\n\n\"Your skin!\" the dragon replied, \"It looks so silly on you! Wherever did you get it?\"\n\n\"Once,\" the man replied, \"I caught a bass and I ate it whole, but its skin became stuck, and it is still on my body to this day.\"\n\nThe dragon continued to laugh. \"Friend!\" the man cried, \"Why do you laugh so?\"\n\n\"Your tail!\" the dragon replied, \"It looks so silly on you! Wherever did you get it?\"\n\n\"Once,\" the man replied, \"I caught a swordfish and I ate it whole, but its nose became stuck in my throat, and I pulled it out and now I carry it with me to this day.\"\n\nThe dragon was so amused by this that he walked over to the man and lay beside him. Before long, the man had caught plenty of fish, and the dragon had started a fire, and together, the two ate to their heart's content. So pleased were they by this arrangement that they agreed to travel together, the dragon named Itzqa, and the man, whose name was Ogi.\n\nAs Itzqa and Ogi walked, they came to a bridge. \"Here\", Ogi said to Itzqa, \"Come, let me carry you so that you do not slip and fall, so that we may continue our journey together.\"\n\nAnd Itzqa did as he was asked and the pair traveled safely across the bridge.\n\nAs Itzqa and Ogi walked further, they came to a stretch of sand and rocks littering the path. \"Here\", Itzqa said to Ogi, \"Come, let me walk before you so that I may frighten away all of the snakes and spiders who might bite at you, so that we may continue our journey together.\"\n\nAnd Ogi did as he was asked and the pair traveled safely across the sand and rocks.\n\nFinally, the pair came to a castle. Without fear, they approached, and were welcomed into the castle as guests. They were brought to a table with food, and asked to regale the king and his daughter with tales of their journeys.\n\nThe two guests spoke of lands far away and great adventures, and as they spoke, the princess became more and more enamored with Ogi, until she declared that she could not live another day without him, and pleaded with her father to allow her to keep Ogi.\n\nThe king was a kind man, but he had a soft spot for his daughter's whims, and so he did as she asked, and ordered the guards to lock Ogi in a dungeon, to be released only when he fell in love with the princess and declared that he would never leave. Itzqa protested, but neither the princess nor the king could be swayed.\n\nAt this moment, Itzqa produced an egg of such magnificent colors that it appeared to be covered in jewels, and suddenly, the princess wanted nothing more than to possess this as well. However, just when the princess was about to ask her father to demand that the egg be given to her, Itzqa swallowed the egg whole.\n\n\"If you wish to possess the egg,\" Itzqa told her, \"I can produce another, but I will not give it to you unless you free Ogi\". But though the princess was greedy and wanted the egg, she refused to give up her prisoner.\n\n\"Very well then,\" Itzqa said, \"Let us play a game. We shall compete in three contests: A contest of skill, a contest of wisdom, and a contest of beauty. If I win all three, then you must free Ogi. If not, you shall have the egg\".\n\n\"Ha!\" the princess laughed, \"I accept! For there is no way a small lizard such as yourself could ever defeat me!\"\n\nSo Itzqa declared that, for their first contest, the contest of skill, the dragon and the princess would both fill a balloon with their breath, and whichever was able to lift their balloon higher would win.\n\n\"Ha!\" the princess laughed, \"With your tiny mouth, you'll never be able to fill a balloon!\"\n\nSo Itzqa and the princess took their balloons and started blowing. And at first, the princess did indeed seem as though she was sure to win. Her balloon kept getting bigger and bigger and bigger! But no matter how hard she blew, the balloon would not lift off of the ground.\n\nMeanwhile, the balloon Itzqa blew into filled slowly, but the fire in his belly filled the balloon with warm air that gradually sent it floating skyward until it could no longer be seen.\n\n\"You may have won this time,\" the princess said, angrily, \"but I'll defeat you in the next contest!\"\n\nFor the second contest, the contest of wisdom, Itzqa declared that the two were to be brought a pile of sand and each was to guess how many grains of sand their pile contained, with whoever guessed most closely to be declared the winner.\n\n\"Ha!\" the princess laughed, \"With your little clawed fingers, you'll never be able to sift through the sand to see how much there is!\"\n\nSo the two of them were each brought a large pile of sand. Immediately, the princess began to walk around her pile, peeking at it from every angle, measuring it with various devices. Finally, she declared that her pile contained ten thousand, seven hundred thirty six grains of sand. Then, a hundred soldiers were summoned to count every last grain of sand, and when they were done, they confirmed that the final count was seven hundred thirty *five* grains of sand.\n\nWhen it came time for Itzqa to act, the dragon poured fire from its mouth over the pile of sand, covering it from every angle until the entire pile of sand had melted into liquid. Then, he got to work blowing on the pile to cool it. When it was done, Itzqa guessed that the pile now contained exactly *one* grain of sand, and sure enough, the sand had re-formed into one solid piece.\n\n\"Grrrrr! You may have won this time,\" the princess said, angrily, \"but I'll defeat you in the last contest!\"\n\nFor the last contest, the contest of beauty, Itzqa declared that Ogi would be allowed to choose to bestow a kiss on one of them, and whoever received the kiss would be declared the winner.\n\n\"Ha!\" the princess laughed, \"A man as handsome as Ogi would surely never lower himself to kiss a disgusting lizard like you, and I am the most beautiful girl in the land! There is no doubt that he will choose me!\"\n\nAnd truly, the princess *was* a beauty to behold, and it was said that there was no other who could compare to her feminine charms. But when Ogi was told to choose between the two of them, and Ogi was forced to decide between the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, but one who had only ever treated him badly, and a scaly little dragon, but one who had only ever shown him respect and kindness, he did not for a moment hesitate to kiss Itzqa, whereupon Itzqa suddenly transformed into a handsome prince whose blond hair glowed with the radiance of the sun and fair features seemed as though they were painted by the most skilled artists.\n\n\"Because of your devotion,\" Itzqa explained to Ogi, \"I have become human. Because I love you, and always wish to be by your side.\"\n\n\"I love you as well,\" said Ogi, \"and it is also my wish that we never be parted.\"\n\nBut the princess would not accept defeat, and screamed that she demanded to be given the egg, and neither Itzqa nor Ogi were to be allowed to leave until she could dine on a dragon's-egg omelet.\n\nCompelled to comply with her wishes, Itzqa produced an egg, every bit as beautiful as before, but warned the princess not to eat it, for it could only ever enhance the inner beauty of the one who consumed it.\n\n\"Then I shall be even more beautiful still!\" the princess declared, and had her servants prepare the egg as an omelet, which she then greedily ate. However, no sooner had she done this than her hair began to lose its color, her teeth started falling out, her clothes began to rot off of her flesh, and her skin began to emit a foul odor.\n\n\"I tried to warn you,\" Itzqa said to the princess, \"that a dragon's egg only enhances the inner beauty of the one who eats it. But inside, you are foul and ugly, and as such you are now equally so on the outside as well.\"\n\nAnd so, for the rest of her miserable days, the princess caused disgust in the eyes of anyone who saw her or came near her. Meanwhile, Itzqa and Ogi spent the rest of their days happy in each others' arms, and continued to travel the world together.\n\nThe end."
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[WP] You are a survivor. Type our your life story.
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"June 23rd, 3146. Lyran Commonwealth.\n\n--\n\nMy name is James Benjamin Clayton, a member of the mercenary battalion Clayton's Chindits, and I have seen more of war than you could ever dream of.\n\nI have seen many things, done things I will never forget, nor forgive myself for doing. A thousand years ago some Spanish-Terran made the comment that those who do not learn from the past are doomed to repeat it. He said that a thousand years ago, and humanity just brushed him aside. A Padre once asked me if I believed in god. I said, no I do not, but I certainly believed in the devil. He came in the guise of the Wolf and the Falcon, slavering beasts set to devour the Inner Sphere and plunge it into another era of ignorance and fear. I was never a religious man, but any faith I had in the divine was extinguished on Sunday, August 7th, 3132. On Gray Monday it was discovered that nearly all the HPG stations in the Sphere had suffered a cyber attack or else physical sabotage. The Hyperpulse Generators, the link between the light years of empty space to the Humanity's planets were destroyed. Massive interstellar nations, governed across the vast gulfs of space were unprepared for this sudden loss of communication. Fear and ignorance bred like wildfire, opportunistic foes emerged from the shadows to prey on the weak. A new Dark Age had emerged.\n\nI was still a child at the time, still young enough not to have known anything but the so-called Stone's Peace, the fifty or so years of relative stability and calmness in the Inner Sphere that had been lacking for centuries. But then, just as soon as we rose out of the darkness and violence we were plunged right back into it again, tearing into each other's throats for the scraps and to finish long dormant feuds. My family was one such victim, my parents gunned down by a rival family. I wasn't in the car that got ambushed; I was chasing pretty girls at the time. My baby sister surived, so they dragged her out of the car and... I got my revenge a month later when I burned down their mansion with them still inside it. Men, women, grandparents, children. And the worst part? I've never felt any guilt over it. I enjoyed it. Never in my life have I been so pleased as when I heard those screams.\n\nMy childhood ended not when my family died, but when our rivals did. I fled my homeplanet hours ahead of the law, slipping away to join the seedier parts of the galaxy. I gambled on Solaris VII, worked my way into one of the stables as a mechanic before earning a coveted slot as a mechwarrior. Three years I did that, one of the youngest in the Arenas before someone I hadn't expected showed up. My father's brother ran away from home before I was born, setting up his own personal mercenary unit with his portion of my grandparents inheritance. He offered me a berth and a mech of my own. How could I not accept?\n\nClayton's Chindits. The name is fitting. We specialize in long range pentration and raids, slipping deep into enemy territory for months at a time, living off the land and the locals. I've lost count of the bridges we've destroyed or the dams we've busted, of the refueling depots and isolated mining towns we've denied to the enemy. Desert worlds, arctic planets, doesn't matter. We don't just survive, we thrive. We go where the foe doesn't dare. Difficulties be Damned.\n\nSo now here we are, the whole battalion loading up for a new assignment, another chance to look the Devil in the eye and tell him to go fuck himself. A company of mechs, a company of air mobile infantry and a squadron of VTOL aircraft against at least a battalion of Free Worlds Guards mechs in addition to support units. Tough odds, but one didn't become a Chindit just to die. One joined because they wanted to live.\n\n",
"\"When I was in eighth grade I used to have a bully. Donnie McNab, big Irish bastard. This kid, McNab, see, he used to wait for me. Not as in, wait for me at the bus stop, or wait for me to make the lonely, isolated walk to where I ate lunch alone, but *wait* for me. I didn't say \"Our school had a bully\" for a reason; he wasn't everyone's bully. He was mine.\"\n\nI look down at the man bound in front of me, blood dripping from his slack mouth. \"Hey, HEY! are you listening?\" He slowly takes his eyes off the ground and meets my gaze; eyes others might have described as broken. A sad statement about the \"windows to the soul.\"\n\n\"He was my bully and mine alone. He would wait for me to be weak. Not alone, not tired or distracted: weak. I don't know what it was, but he could always tell. Maybe my mom hadn't been home from the bar in two days, maybe my old man had gotten a little rough with his discipline the night before, maybe my dog died- it didn't matter, he could always tell when I was feeling venerable, weak. You know what that does to a man? Always being kicked when he was down? He learns his place. I was a victim, prey.\"\n\nHis head had begun to droop again, but his breathing is even. I crouch down, cup his chin in my hand and lift it up, forcing him to meet my gaze. \"Hey, I'm doing you a favor here, telling you a story, letting you live a little longer, hope a little harder your friends might show up; the least you could do is pay attention\" His eyes are locked into mine now, all that weakness gone, replaced with hatred, with disdain. \n\n\"There you go! See that was my thought too! Get angry!\" I stand up, really getting into my story now. Pacing back a forth, shouting into the air, \"Who is he to do this to me?\" I used to scream into the void, that void that was suppose to be family. But it's not enough, it's never enough. Some nights I would scream and scream into the nothing and when morning came round, well, I wouldn't be angry anymore! Ain't that about a bitch? The therapeutic release took away my best tool. And then other nights, the nights dad hit the whiskey instead of beer... Well, those nights my screams were met with *his*... \"therapeutic\" release. Which, ironically left me ready to for McNab to sniff out the new pain all over again.\"\n\nHe's seething now. Even if I was blind to the way he was looking at me, I could tell. Hell, his raising heart beat alone is forcing more and more blood from his nose and mouth. \"See, that was my childhood. What made me, me. High school wasn't much different, left home, dropped out, shit job, bad crowd, started selling weed and coke, you know, the usual stuff for people like me.\n\nAnd then one day, years later, I had the good fortune of meeting McNab again. Freshly released from prison, he was going into the drug dealing business. And he wanted my clientele. And like I was back in middle school, he showed me how convincing his knuckles could be.\" I drop down to his level again, with a suddenness that, even if only for a moment, caused his anger to be replaced with surprise. This was my favorite part.\n\n\"But it wasn't eighth grade! I was lying there, my face bruised to all hell, thinking about just ending it, when it hit me!\" I was shouting at his now I was so excited. Wearing a smile. Perhaps the only genuine smile I've worn in weeks. \"This wasn't school! If no one was going to help me, well, at least now no one would stop me from retaliating either! NcNab might have been a big burly sonofabitch, but we weren't limited to fists anymore. A few weeks later, and his new residence, which was also his store front for his new enterprise, was pretty common knowledge around the neighborhood. So one night, I simply walked in--which, by the way, made me ask, \"what kind of drug dealer doesn't lock his fucking door?\"-- strolled up to his bed, and before he could break the haze of sleep, cuffed his hands to the bed frame. Like I said, it dawned on me this wasn't the eighth, I am not a victim; I'm a predator. \n\nI spent the night taking my pound of flesh. but as dawn came, he said something that made me reconsider what I had done, he said, through a mouthful of blood, not unlike your own, \"You best kill me now, otherwise, you're dead kid.\" And he was right! See, I'm not a predator, I'm just not. Even right here, right now, with your life in my hands, I have no hesitance saying that if the playing field was level, you'd kill me right here and now. It's in the eyes. I can see in your's, you, you're a fighter. Now a predator, preying on the weak, but a fighter. It's why you're still listening to me now, you don't give a shit about my story. You're hoping for an opportunity to attack me.\"\n\n\"When he told me that, that'd he'd kill me, I knew he meant it, see, he did have the eyes of a predator. So I killed him.\" My smile was beginning to make my face ache, but I didn't care. I was getting to my point now. \"That moment changed me. I'm not a killer, well, I mean I've killed, but it's not my thing, I don't really like confrontation. But doing what is necessary, despite my desires is what defined me. After I knew I could do that, I knew I could do anything. From there, it's all history, as they say. Through clever dealings, ruthless expansion, civil partnerships, prosperous rivalries, and a million other moments in my past I went from selling weed to college kids, to selling designer drugs, to importing and processing my own supply to right here.\"\n\nI sit down about a foot away from him on the ground with my arms wrapped around my knees. \"To right here and now. To you, a shitty little run of the mill, ground pounding foot soldier from a gang I've never heard of, but apparently lives in my own backyard. To right here and now, a few hours after you broke into my home--a location I've thought was guarded--and tried to kill me. To right here and now where you get to make a choice; are you finally going to tell me who paid you to come out here tonight,\" I pull out an old, rusty set of pliers from my pants, \"or I see how many teeth you can lose before blood loss kicks in.\"\n\nThere it is. I still see the fighter in his eyes, but even a fighter knows when he's about to die.\n\n\"If I tell you, you'll let me go? that's the deal?\"\n\n\"Well, not quite. You don't get where I am by letting people with grudges against you keep walking around. No, what will happen is you'll be shipped out to one of my.... out of country enterprises, where you will start at the bottom, but be given the chance to work your way up.\"\n\nI could see his mind working as I told him this; weighing his options. He knows his little gang will probably be whipped away soon, that death is his other option, and that he wants to keep living. To keep fighting. \"It was the cartels. I don't know which one or who, but they want you gone.\"\n\n\"See? was that so hard?\" I stand up and move behind him to untie his hands. He never saw the bullet coming.\n\nI walk over to the utility sink in the corner to wash my hands and spray down the concrete floor, one of the many reasons that this abandoned paint factory for dealings like this; it was literally built to be easy to clean. I'm washing my hands and wondering if they'll ever look clean to me again. So many lives ended by my hands, not the hands of a predator, a killer. I tell myself I had to kill him; that he was a fighter at heart and he would have never stopped coming for me. \n\nBut still, it's hard to take someone's life when neither of you are killers, when there is no moral justification. He may have killed me, but he wasn't like McNab, he was like me, he wouldn't have enjoyed it, he would have just done what was necessary. But I'm not like him, I'm not a fighter. Am I? \n\nI look up, into the mirror above the sink and into my eyes. No, I'm not a fighter, I'm a survivor.\n",
"I was born on a winter's night late in the year of our Lord 1996, and since then I've lived through twenty-seven very eventful years, including two very improbable events and a third which may seem downright impossible.\n\nThe first improbable event came when I lived to see the year 1997 - you see, I was born over three months prematurely, and I didn't leave the hospital until well after spring had sprung. I didn't talk until the age of four, yet I could use a computer at two; I have a faint memory of September 4th, 2001, yet no memory whatsoever of what happened a week later.\n\nI was very good at mathematics - indeed, I still am: I memorised over seventy digits of *pi* almost twenty years ago, and I still remember them; I obtained a major qualification years earlier than most people did.\n\nIt's just too bad that life had to change forever only seven weeks before I would have finished my A-level exams.\n\nEven though it was nine years ago, I remember it clear as day: early on the Friday morning of a bank holiday weekend, the power went out. The previous normal power outage I had experienced was probably in 2010 or 2011, but this was by no means a normal power outage. Five to ten minutes later, just before four o'clock in the morning, I heard explosions - planes falling out of the sky - and I knew that at that moment the world had changed for all of us.\n\nMany days dawn cloudy here in England, and Friday 1 May was no exception. But again, that day was not a normal day: no trains were running, most cars were stalled on the roads and about a dozen planes had crashed on our island. I'd filled up our bathtub, and everything that could conceivably hold water, before the taps no longer gave us clean, running water early that afternoon.\n\nThe power didn't come back on on Friday ... or on Saturday ... or on Sunday. On 7 May 2015 there was supposed to be a general election - the media had been talking about it for weeks, and the dissolution of Parliament was going to be the longest in the nation's history even before the end of the world as we knew it - but the supermarket shelves had long been stripped bare, people were rioting and the total turnout couldn't have been more than a few thousand.\n\nThe second week of the blackout was the week that water-borne diseases began to ravage our country, and doubtless many others. We had no way to communicate with far-off places, many people had no clean water and that week, or maybe week three, was when most people began to get desperately hungry ...\n\nAbout two weeks after the lights went out and the food distribution system stopped, we left our house and we walked. We tried to go to the countryside, to anywhere where there might be a source of food or water. I don't remember many of the horrible days of that summer now, but I have hazy memories of bright, hot days, of thousands of dead bodies, of third-world living conditions and of a complete lack of governing authority.\n\nI think it was the end of July when we found a community in the south-west of England - a journey that we used to make every year by car, it taking six hours at the most - that had food stockpiled and had crops almost ready to be harvested. If you'd suddenly gone forward in time by twelve months you'd be forgiven for thinking you'd gone back a few hundred years ...\n\nIn the middle of May I certainly didn't think I'd make it to 27 September, let alone the year 2023. But I did - I lived to see the moon turn blood-red that Sunday night, precisely one hundred and fifty days after the lights had gone out - and I wept as I thought of one of my relatives, who didn't live to see the twentieth day of June. You see, it would have been her birthday on 27 September, and she wasn't very old at all. The first winter of the blackout was the coldest in a long time - without organised record-keeping, at first we couldn't say for certain exactly which winter had last been colder, but it turned out to have been exactly twenty-five years previously.\n\nSpring arrived late in 2016 - there was still snow on the ground at the end of March, just like there had been three years previously - and then people began to claim larger swathes of territory, swapping electrical power for political power. They say only twenty million people were alive in Britain at the end of April 2016, compared to about sixty-five million a year earlier.\n\nIn about 2017 life began to look up for me - though it was nowhere near as comfortable as in 2014, it was still better than most of 2015 because we knew how to live in this world now. We kept on trying to rebuild, though a functioning power grid was still years away at that point. New weather records were set and tens of thousands died as global warming carried on its inexorable course: they say it reached over forty degrees Celsius at the end of July 2018, yet in 2020 snow fell in the middle of October and we had our worst winter for nearly sixty years.\n\nIt was a pleasant Friday evening early in my twenty-seventh summer when we finally had electric power again, though we'd learned to live without it and it was largely considered a luxury. But that only lasted for six months before one night, thirty-four years to the day after the death of another of my relatives, I went to sleep.\n\nThat night was the tenth of December, two days before my birthday, but the next day wasn't the eleventh: it was 20 December 2014. I don't know how, but I woke up in a strange house, in the city I'd lived in for the first eighteen years of my life - it had electric power, the Internet was up and running, and I decided to warn you all of these horrible events - over fifty million people had died in Britain, and it is said that over seven hundred million died worldwide. I've made many friends over the Internet, over this site of Reddit, during the last four months; it's just too bad that for all of you there are only two weeks left."
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[WP] Everyone has their own personal god, each with dominion over something different. After a lifetime of silence, you cry out to your god in a time of need and he finally answers.
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"\"You look... surprised?\"\n\nThat was an understatement. I didn't expect anyone or anything to actually show up. Much less this... creature... in front of me.\n\n\"My only follower and even you didn't even really believe in me... That's kinda sad.\"\n\nI regained my composure. Was I supposed to... bow? Grovel? I wasn't really sure of the protocol of these things. She seemed to read my mind.\n\n\"Relax. I'm not big on formality.\"\n\nI shook my head to clear it.\n\n\"Why now? After all this time... why come to me now?\"\n\nShe shrugged and clopped a hoof against the floor.\n\n\"Getting into the mortal world isn't as easy as you'd think. Takes a lot of power and we draw our power from our worshippers. Since you're my only one, it took awhile to build up enough power. Especially since you're not exactly... devout.\"\n\nI felt ashamed by that. I had seen the gods of others. Why hadn't I had more faith in mine?\n\n\"Oh chin up Ike. I'm here now and that's what matters. So, what's up?\"\n\nI explained my problem. I had been disowned by most of my friends and family because I chose not to join some mega temple attempting to consolidate all the gods. Because of this I was barred from most jobs and couldn't afford food. The only reason I had a roof over my head was because I did odd jobs for the landlord. I was hungry. Tired. Cold. And lonely.\n\n\"Well all of those things are easy to fix. Build me a small shrine out back and I'll get to work.\"\n\n---\nFlip. The Goddess of Luck. Thanks to her intervention I became a world-class gambler and never wanted for material things again. Things just kept having a way of turning out in my favor. I was no longer hungry. No longer tired and cold...\n\n\"Flip! I'm home!\"\n\nA casual-paced clopping of hooves as the centaur turned the corner, wiping sweat from her forehead. She had been out running again.\n\n\"Welcome back Ike.\"\n\nI know what you're thinking, but it's not like that. Yes, she cured my loneliness too. But we're partners. Business partners. Platonic.\n\nShe gave me a kiss on the cheek.\n\nWell, mostly platonic.\n\n\"You pick the movie. I'll get cleaned up, order a pizza, and change into my full human form again, okay?\"\n\n...So I'm not the most honest man in the world. Sue me.",
"Like little toy cars and moving specs of dirt. Karl closed his eyes, standing on the edge ready to throw it all away.\n\n\"Don't do it!\"\n\nKarl opened his eyes and screamed. A teal skinned woman was floating in the open air, a duck's bill where her mouth should have been and a cylindrical tube in her hand.\n\nKarl said, \"Who are you?\"\n\n\"God,\" she said taking a curled chip from the tube and chomping on it.\n\nKarl's mind struggled to digest what he was seeing. \"You're God?\"\n\n\"Well I'm *a* God. I'm your God.\"\n\n\"*My* God.\"\n\n\"Yes. And I have to say Karl, if you throw yourself off this building you won't inherit the utopia of Pringles that awaits you in the afterlife.\"\n\n\"Pringles?\"\n\n*CRUNCH* \"Yup.\"\n\n\"You got to be kidding me? Corporations are marketing in our afterlives too?\"\n\n\"It's not like that Karl. There's 7 billion people okay? Everyone gets one God. Each God gets dominion over one thing. By the time I was assigned to you there wasn't much left besides intellectual properties.\" *CRUNCH* \"You're lucky. This is a big IP. You could be stuck with Pet Rocks or some knockoff of PopTarts or something. They're getting so desperate up there Gods are starting to claim YouTube Channels. Imagine watching some hyper teen screaming on League of Legends for eternity.\"\n\n\"Holy shit.\" Karl took another step away from the ledge. He shook his head. \"Still, I'm not sure Pringles are worth living for.\"\n\n\"Pringles. An endless afterlife of Pringles. Does that not satisfy you? Once you pop you cannot stop!\"\n\nKarl jumped off the skyscraper yelling, \"I'll worship any God who saves me!\"\n\n\"Oh goddammit, not fair,\" cried the God of Pringles.\n\nAnd so Karl was saved by the God of another. The God promised an afterlife of bubble wrap. Karl was cool with that."
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[WP] ''Aren't you afraid to die?''
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"\"Aren't you afraid to die?\"\n\nFor a moment, just a brief moment, the elderly man contemplated the question. In his bleak, confining hospital room, he looked around to see the many loving faces surrounding him.\n\nHis wife, who he cared for so dearly, stood with her hands folded gently in front of her. A smile highlighted her face, brightening the room as if the sun was out.\n\nAn older man with graying thin hair was escorted by a younger woman. The woman, the man could not recognize, but he had seen her pictures before. Who was she? He could not fully remember, however he felt something connecting. Something transcendent and emotional, all at once. \n\nAnd the man next to her was as equally familiar, one the dying man hadn't seen in a long time. But he recognized him, and scolded him, as he was being scolded in return. They did not wish for the other's attention.\n\nThen, finally, he looked at the one other person in the room: his daughter. She, who gripped his hands and sweeped her thumbs over them, wishing that she would not lose him. Yet his end was near, and nothing the doctors or his daughter could do would stop him from leaving the world of the leaving. So, she asked him again:\n\n\"Aren't you afraid to die?\"\n\nHe smiled and looked to his little girl's eyes. \"No,\" he replied \"I have always been afraid of dying alone. But with you and everyone else here, I couldn't be any happier.\" The old man's arm motioned around the room, causing the girl to turn her attention to the people her father was gesturing towards.\n\nShe was confused. \"Dad, there's nobody-\"\n\nBeep. Beep. Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeepppppppppp.\n\nA flat line caught her attention. Tears stung her eyes. Death had entered the room. And it was her father who now joined Death this time. But as he said before, he was not alone. \n\nAmongst the streaming light that beckoned his ethereal being, he followed those few he had seen earlier. Gladly, he walked hand in hand with his wife and his parents towards an everlasting peace. Then, to himself, he repeated his only fear of the world.\n\n\"I'm only afraid of dying alone. But no one ever truly dies alone.\" ",
"What are you, stupid? Of course I'm afraid to die! \n\nListen to me, you son of a bitch. Anyone who says they're NOT afraid to die is either a posturing psychopath or a religious fanatic. No one goes to war because they're not afraid to die. No one takes a stand because they're not afraid to die. Hell, you don't even commit SUICIDE because you're not afraid to die. You do these things because continuing to live as you do now is just as bad as death. You do them not because they're easy, but because the alternative seems even worse. \n\nSo yeah. Kill me if you have to. But don't think for one second that I'm an exception. Don't write this off as some sort of aberration or rare rebellion from the norm. Because the further you push us, the more desperate we become. And in the end, it won't matter what you do to us. \n\nMy people can only fear death so much. But they've learned to hate you far, far more.\n",
"The cold steel of the barrel of a gun. That's all I can feel, as I kneel down in the back of this alley. I've come so far, only to be ended like this: executed in a dark, dirty alley around the back of a Bookies. \"Aren't you afraid to die?\" My killer asks me, confused. \"They usually cry, or beg, but you're just quiet. You're not afraid of death, are you?\" I shake my head slowly, staring at the floor ahead of me. Let's be honest, I deserve this: I've killed my fair share of people as a mob enforcer, but it seems I'm going to be put down by one. Irony, is it? I believe so. Back to the matter at hand, he pushes the barrel further against my head, and I can feel the pressure. It's starting to hurt. I can only imagine the amount of people I've put through this. Hundreds, probably. After thirty six years as a mob enforcer, my time comes to an end.\n\n\"I have one request,\" I state loudly. \"That I look my killer in the eyes as he pulls the trigger.\" \n\n\"Gladly obliged.\" He sneers, and grabs my collar, turning me roughly around. He presses the gun against my forehead, staring directly into my eyes. I return the favor.\n\n\"When I asked if you were scared of death, you responded no. You should be.\"\nEverything goes black.",
"The sword pierced the soldier's torso and Cjozk could feel it cutting all the organs in its way. He knelt beside the soldier and stared into his eyes as held his sword inside him. The soldier's face bore no expression \n'' Can you feel it? The cold steel penetrating your stomach. Can you feel the life draining from that wound? ''\n\nIt was as if his wound was not there and he stared back at him. This man was no man at all.\nCjozk writhed his sword within his enemy trying to induce all the pain that he could, looking to get a single twitch in his face. But still, his enemy showed no pain.\n''Don't you feel it? Aren't you afraid to die? ''\n\nThe soldier with the blue eyes stared directly at him and blood gushed from his mouth when he spoke in a harsh voice, barely being able to say each word\n'' Are you? ''\n\nCjozk took out the sword from his stomach and with a single cut beheaded the soldier.\n''Yes, yes i am''",
"\"Aren't you afraid to die?\"\n\nThe little girl asked in her quiet voice. Her father lay on the bed in front of her. He was a man withered before his time. His skin was drawn too tight in some places, but rolled in loose waves in others. His eyes had turned that final shade of yellow, yet his iris remained the ever bright blue of his youth. Those eyes were the only thing she saw of her father. The body was that of a stranger. Some other girl's father. It couldn't be that her papa was lying here, letting himself fade away.\n\n\"Of course I am. I'm terrified. More so for you than me, though.\"\n\nThe girl stared down at her feet as her father spoke. Salty rivulets began to mar her face.\n\n\"I am scared that you will remember me like this, my sweet darling child. I am scared that this sorrow will stain your heart, that my passing will kill you-the little girl that I love.\"\n\nHer tears fell openly now, she did not bother to hide them. With what strength remained in him the father reached out one arm and embraced his daughter one final time.\n\n\"I am in pain, sweetness. Just saying what I do now hurts. It hurts so bad it dulls the fear of death because I know it is a release. When I close my eyes, my dear sweet Lily, the pain will be gone. But I'll never see you grow old.\"\n\nHis eyes were beginning to grow muddled with tears now, too, and a chill took hold of him. He didn't let his daughter see how he shook, but he could feel the tremors reaching her anyway.\n\n\"Be good to your mother. She doesn't know you as well as I, so it will take her a while.\"\n\nHe planted a kiss goodbye on her head.\n\n\"There is no way I could ever love you more than I do now. You fill me with pride, my dear sweet daughter. I know that I will see you again, but for now this is goodbye.\"\n\nThe daughter lifted her head from her hands and pressed herself tightly against the skeleton in the bed. She tapped his forehead with a kiss. \n\n\"Goodbye, papa.\"\n\nAnd she rushed from the room, sobbing all the way. \n\nAs she leaves a doctor enters.\n\nIn his hand he holds a syringe, filled with a clear liquid."
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[WP] A drug is invented where one dosage removes the need for sleep for the rest of their life.
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"I don't understand some people. I get the people who didn't want the cure. Not sleeping is actually a terrifying prospect. No, I understand them. Hell, my wife still has to sleep every night and I don't hold it against her. The people I don't understand are the people who took the cure and are not happy. How could you not be? when they removed the need to sleep, my mind never stopped working. I am never physically exhausted and I am never mentally exhausted.\n\nI NEVER HAVE TO STOP THINKING.\n\nMind you, I do from time to time. Mostly when my wife and kids are awake. I still love them and would do anything to make them happy. When they go to sleep is when the fun starts. I spend the first couple of hours writing down my thoughts from when my family is awake. Then I get back to work. \n\nI pity those who cannot handle this opportunity. It is a gift. A gift that we must cherish. Already I alone have completed so much.",
"*This pill will change how your bodily chemicals will function. Although I can describe to you how it changes each and every process, I'll give it to you short and simple. Your brain, essentially, will become something similar to a snapshot. It will be frozen at the point of time where you feel most awake as your chemicals will remain at a constant with the ones causing drowsiness being at a constant low whilst the chemicals that induce alertness being at a constant high. In even simpler terms, you won't ever feel the need to sleep because your brain will never feel the exhaustion caused by the accumulation of chemicals which induce sleep. However be warned that anything that would invoke sleep will no longer take effect and you will never be able to sleep if you wanted to. A small price to pay for all those things that you could possibly accomplish. If a person spends half the day sleeping it means they would only have 183 days to do the things they want to do but you, my friend, will have the full 365 days. You essentially have double the amount of time to do whatever you want. Maybe perhaps you could even spend this time to push the boundaries of Science even further.* \n\nThis same thought has echoed through my mind for the past half an hour or so as I lay lifeless and still on the metal apparatus. It is true that nothing could induce sleep in me however sedation works in a way that not only makes you drowsy but it also inhibits the motor neuron and as such I could not even twitch my fingers to motion to the surgeon that I wasn't asleep yet. I couldn't even close my eyelids. \n\nAt last the surgeon picked up his scalpel and I can tell you this much. \n\nNothing in this life will ever prepare you to see yourself get sliced apart. \n\n**Nothing.** ",
"My mind is a Gaussian blur. Though my body is always fully rested, my mind is exhausted. I would love to be able to shut off for a little while, but I can't. I've begun to lean on drugs and alcohol as a crutch to help me fight through this mental depletion.\nIt was fine at first, relieving actually. Having time to do things. Having all the time in the world. Work all day, party all night, repeat. No need for pause.\nBut this never ending loop, this cycle, it seems unwavering. It starts to really erode at your sense of self like mustard on car paint.\nHours flying by as if they were seconds, days weaving into one another as if the structure of days themselves were useless.\nWhat is time without rest? What is life without intermission?\nI begin to remember when I could vividly dream and wonder. To have an imagination. To have a thought to myself. I would skin my whole body with a potato peeler to feel that sensation again.\nThe sun won't come out tomorrow, because there is no tomorrow. There is only today. Forever.",
"I wish I had never taken that pill. It's not really painful you know, not being able to sleep. I didn't go mad, there is no pain, it's just all a blur. I no longer get excited for a Friday or a holiday. It's all just kind of....minutes. \n\nI used to love the anticipation, three more days, two more days, TOMORROW!!! Now? Now I think in hours. My birthday is 372 hours away. Christmas is 2,537. It has been 43,863 hours since I last slept, and I don't feel tired at all.\n\nI was so excited. I'll never sleep, I'll get so much done. My problem is that I have no passion anymore, no drive. I have so much time to do things but I waste it. I have seen every episode of Friends though. Twice.\n\nThere is no way to reverse it they say. Such a shame. I wished to dream one last time. If one pill started this then one pill can end it. \n\nGoodbye."
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[WP] In a world ruled by an international/interplanetary government around 5000 AD, civil war breaks out. What was the reason behind the war and how did it escalate?
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"I remember it like it was yesterday. I was just a young lad, growing up in the Rice Fields of Europa. Good times they were. You’d dock your ship next to your rice field and tend to it and then head back to your ship. Maybe spend a few hours swimming. We had to watch out for poachers, though. That’s how I learned to fight. Had to protect Europa’s water from companies, pirates or even just tourists trying to sneak a few hundred gallons away. Ironically it wasn’t water that started this war. You’d think it was, since that’s what all the politicians go on about. “Clean water this, water storage that”. The latest big one was that the sun was going to run out and wouldn’t be able to power the water purifiers anymore. Hell, if those windbags were able to talk the day they were born, they would have been talking for two centuries straight. \nI’m almost a hundred-and-seventy years old, but I can remember it like it was yesterday. A pissing contest, that’s all it was. NuCorp tried to dodge paying their taxes… It purchased Saturn, the whole planet! Then it claimed Saturn as an independent planet and sued the government for independency. The government’s best and brightest, president Richard “Dickhead” Bush decided to let them go, the Dickhead. Next thing you know, companies all over the universe are claiming planets of their own and suing for independency. I know the war didn’t start for another forty years after that, but that was the real catalyst. Companies started sending terrorists to disrupt other companies in order to lower their profits and attempt to buy their planets and stuff. That’s why NuCorp owns 30% of the Solar System right now. “Owns”… They may have legal ownership, but based on our presence here in orbit, and the fact that we’ve strategically dismantled all of their military fleet, we might as well claim the solar system ours. The water crisis was just to get the military mobilized, so that’s why we’ve set up this blockade around Venus, and shoot down any device that extracts water vapor from the atmosphere. A few more months and they’ll surrender, or else they’ll devolve into smaller factions and fight each other until there’s no one left. If that doesn’t happen and all else fails, we simply wait until they completely run out of water and all die. It’s a slow war, but a war none the less.\n\nEdits: punctuation",
"The war began with a DDOS attack. The Voyagers- a group of LARPers from Mars, parts of Venus, and lots of Australia- had assembled a fleet around the cyberworld of Medtopia. Medtopia was populated by avatars who just wanted to enjoy the cybersun that emulated the Mediterranean, and people that wanted to get their erg on in simulated Roman-Carthaginian battles. \n\nBut CybeGov had introduced a new resource, SV42. They did so just so that there'd be something new for the clans in the outer rims to play with. They simply wrote up the code that said it could be mined and refined for a small combat bonus, and let the market handle the rest. What they didn't count on was the pseudorandom number generator in the basement of a Lunar colony putting it outside of Outer Rim range and write beneath the surface of *New Rome, Medtopia, Luxury Zone 5.* \n\nSo the Voyagers- these nasty guys that played space pirates without any legs and instead had 4 functioning arms- sent a shitton of bots into the system and waited for the Medtopians to log off.\n\nOf course, they didn't. The Medtopians were stoics. They were nerds that were enchanted by the promise of ancient Rome, the Caliphate, and the Renaissance and thought everything after was a mistake. In the real world, they were ripped. Their 3d printers synthesized fish, wine and olives. They could handle a little bit of lag.\n\nWhen the Voyagers entered the cybersystem, they were shocked. Their goal was to *not alert* anybody about what was happening. They'd get the SV42 and jump out of the system. Maybe the Martian players would be stuck there a little longer but it was normal for Martians to be in random places. There was once a Martian ship in the middle of Noir York, a 15 kilometer sized world in orbit around a black hole, and that was considered the most fantastic glitch of the year. It would've been ok.\n\nBut again, this wasn't like those time. The Voyagers had alerted hundreds of thousands of Medtopians to their presence and information flies quickly. They hadn't even brought in any communication jammer. \n\nSo the Voyagers attacked. Their hundreds of crafts jetted down into the atmosphere, skirting the water and firing volley after volley on New Rome. Skattering its digital replicas and --\n\n-- well, before even CyberGov could react the American 3000s had arrived. \n\nThe American 3000s were a LARPer squad from, you guessed it, New Texas, Venus. They were closely knit. All 5 million of them were based in the same floating city. They didn't use their VR kits to touch each other. They could just get up and take an elevator. They didn't use their VR kits to exercise. They just rose up, but on a breather, and did resistance training underneath the .6AU sun. \n\nThey were also huge fans of the War of 3326, where the American Coalition had finally dismantled the Siberian Reich using an army of 150ft tall robots. This is important because thats what had stood above New Rome, deflecting the small voyager strike craft with long swords held high by fusion powered steam motors. They had hyped in- which is a little OP by today's rules- and began laying down the law as they saw it. \n\nBy the time CyberGov had turned its great all-seeing eye to Medtopia for its hourly back-up, New Rome had been dismantled and American 3000s were following a retreating Voyager fleet into zones they shouldn't have. The educational zone, for example, faced its first battle since the Student Rebellion of 4192, when the planet TED had been overrun. Then the Celestia spaces- an actual recreation of Sol's neighbors- had Alpha centauri's dwarf planets exploded when an American 3000 was sent on a crash course. And then alliances, squads and individuals joined the fray until the American 3000 were no longer chasing.\n\nCyberGov watched throughout the battle. When a certain neurotic player in the Voyagers- one who had knowledge of where the nearest servers were and how to bomb them- was getting frustrated enough to act on his knowledge, the great machine let his bullets his true despite being 50 meters off. When an American 3000 warrior was surrounded, it was not because of bad strategy on his part, but because his location had been shifted 4 kilometers to the left. \"Rounding error\" would have been the explanation if anybody had asked.\n\nAnd then the war ended. CyberGov simply sent out a solar message, \"SV42 placement was a mistake.\" It retracted the changes. It couldn't known what was going to happen could it? It couldn't have purposefully upset utopia just by introducing a bug in the system and knowing the exact way it would play out just like it had done 42 times before? Could it?\n\n--A post on /r/conspiracy, 5001 AD"
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[WP] A cryogenic freezing company has been acquired by a company that brings the bodies back to life to be used as slaves
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"Danial's job was easy. All he had to do was lie there. Countless tubes snaked from his limbs and chest to the ceiling, but he couldn't see them. His vision was blocked by the dark gray comically oversized metal helmet sitting on his head.\n\nTristan watched through the glass at the rows of people hanging on racks. His white coat matched the clean white walls of the hallway. \"It's not right.\"\n\nMelinda didn't bother to turn her head. \"Why? They signed a contract. It's legal. They enjoy it.\"\n\n\"Don't they know it's not real?\"\n\n\"It's real to them.\"\n\n\"It's not even recent. Those VR-machines are at least 30 years old. I'm surprised they still work.\"\n\n\"It's real enough to them. Whenever one breaks we just replace it. Used VR-machines are dirt cheap.\"\n\n\"And the intravenous fluid. It's made of--\"\n\n\"They don't care. They can eat whatever they want.\"\n\n\"But it's not real. None of it's real. We're using them and giving them nothing in return.\"\n\nMelinda shrugged. \"To them it's real. To them it's everything.\" She turned towards Tristan. \"Aren't you on duty?\"\n\n\"Yeah...\" He gave the corpse-like people a final glance before hurriedly shuffling down the corridor.",
"\"There are no laws in space.\"\n\nThat was Eldin Muske's only statement after disclosing the details of the deal to acquire CryoCure. Arthur had made a living off of berevity in both his statements and his actions. And this one was no different. He had sat before the board at the head of the table and made his way around with his eyes like he did before every board meeting. His eyes met the other directors' and moved onto the next until all 11 had been acknowledged.\n\n\"In the past we would buy companies for their assets,\" he began with his leveled tone. \"And the best payoff in an acquisition is when you got more assets than you paid for. Which will be the case here.\n\n\"We have a company that delivered promises and wasn't able to live up to them. There are men and women in those capsules that have been waiting decades, and even a century, for cures to their illnesses and disease. And they haven't arrived. Their descendents don't even make an effort to visit them, and a significant majority of them have chosen death over immortality. The very idea was stupid to begin with.\"\n\nHe shifted back into his chair and started rocking back and forth. This was when he was going to pull everyone in. Hook. Line. Sinker.\n\n\"The asteroid is going to pass within the next year. If it does, we are out hundreds of billions. Yes, with a 'b.' Our attempts at securing workers for the project has not worked out as well. Sure, a trip to Mars resulted in tens of thousands of applicants when it was first introduced. But to mine an asteroid field in open space seems to cotton picking of three centuries ago. So be it. We'll have to with what resources we have, and the best resources we have are in those capsules.\n\n\"There are hundreds of thousands in those capsules, but we can't wake them up on Earth. We'll load them and wake them up once we get into space. No Earthling law is recognized there, and I doubt they will even attempt going after us.\"\n\nA sheepish grin came across his face. He loved to elude anything and anyone.\n\n\"So it comes down to this. Either CryoCure would have had the plug pulled on them, or we can taken the plug beyond Earth. In front of you are the differences in costs, including wages, insurance, and other expenses. The numbers speak for themselves, as should this argument. We have the opportunity to monopolize these asteroid fields, and we will do so. Nobody but our own conscience is stopping us.\"\n\nEldin leaned back in again this time and took a deep sigh.\n\n\"My fellow board members, how do you vote?\"\n\n\"Yah,\" said an unanimous voice. ",
"Day 1\n\nSix of us were unfrozen yesterday. They herded us down long, dark hallways and forced us into these horrifying machines for hours on end. I feel so violated. There's an incessant itching in my wrist and scars on my chest. What did they do to me?\n\nI found this notebook hidden in my new room. Whoever owned it before must've written in it, since over half the pages are missing. I hope they didn't go through the same things I did today.\n\nDay 2\n\nWe've all been given new names. I'm called Jim. The others are now Kate, Mary, Bill, Harry, and Mike. Mary's definitely the oldest of the group. She has gray hair and deep wrinkles. Why would she have been frozen so late in life?\n\nDay 5\n\nAs far as I can tell, we were thawed out to be servants. We are woken up every day at 6:00 AM sharp and piled into transports. Each of us is dropped off at a different location with an armed guard. We cook, clean, and do other household chores. Around 5:00 PM, we picked up and shipped back to whatever this place is. We aren't paid, but the Keepers (the nickname we've given our owners) provide rooms and meals. Not the greatest, but enough to live.\n\nDay 11\n\nBill didn't get back on the transport this evening, but his guard did. Does he have to stay at the job longer than the rest of us? I hope he gets a good meal for his hard work.\n\nDay 12\n\nAs we were leaving this morning, I noticed Bill's room was empty. Even the furniture's gone. I don't think he's coming back.\n\nDay 19\n\nToday, we were all sent to a factory. The workers are on strike, so the Keepers volunteered us to run the heavy machinery. Kate says that she used to work in a steel mill back in the old days. It was a unanimous vote to let her take the scariest piece of equipment. I should have done it instead.\n\nIt happened all too fast. A loud crunch, and then a scream. Kate's right arm was jammed in the machine all the way to her shoulder, bent in weird directions. She was hysterical, flailing around like fish out of water with tears covering her face. We all just stood there, in awe of what was happening before us. One of the guards acted quickly. A bullet to the head. No hesitation, no remorse. Just part of the job.\n\nI know what happened to Bill now. Will we all meet the same fate? Are we just tools to the Keepers, ready to be tossed away at a moment's notice? I'm not going out that way.\n\nDay 30\n\nIt's taken a lot of observation and planning, but I think I've figured out an escape plan. Lights out is at 8:00 PM and most of the guards leave once we're locked away. I've crafted a couple lockpicks from bits and pieces I picked up on jobs. I don't know if I'll be able to take the others with me. I pray that choice won't have to be made.\n\nTomorrow will be the day.\n\nDay 31\n\nThis is it. I will be free form the Keepers tonight. I've made myself a shiv, so hopefully I can get the jump on a guard and take his gun. There's no turning back once I leave this room. Being caught means death. Bill. Kate. Please watch over me.",
"Once the acquisition went through Cryotech stopped all contact with Jesse. Well they stopped all contact with everyone who had relatives frozen. That is, unless you had the $1 million necessary to have them unfrozen and set free. \n\nJesse knew his great great great great grandfather, Charles, would be subject to forced labour when they brought him back to life. Instead of having family dinners and seeing the amazing improvements in technology he would be hooked up to a machine and used for computing power. \n\nHantech had long ago discovered that harnessing a human brain could result in extremely high computing power without causing permanent damage. Most humans now spent 8 hours a day hooked up providing the world with it's computerized automation. \n\nCryotech had been the perfect opportunity for Hantech to increase it’s capacity. Most of the people frozen had been long forgotten by their families. Lost in the vast Cryotech archives. All Hantech needed to do was unfreeze them, hook them up for 24 hours a day and harvest the profits.\n\nJesse felt like he was the only one on earth to cared about what was going on. The news channels weren’t talking about it. There was only mild discussion on the internet where he had discovered some rich families were paying a $1 Million to have their relatives freed. Unfortunately he didn’t have that money - 8 hours a day hooked up to the machine only paid enough to scrape by.\n\nAs he looked at pictures of Charles he realized that he may never meet the man he had dreamed about since he was a child. \n\nNo. He would not let Charles live the rest of his life hooked up to that machine. He didn’t know how but he was going to be put a stop to this.\n\n---\n[Part 2] (http://www.reddit.com/r/Franz_Canis/comments/3320uu/cryotech/cqgr2lg)"
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[WP] Aliens have been observing Earth. And they've come to the conclusion that humans are completely and incurably insane. They begin to use Earth as an insane asylum.
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"I'm a social worker. For alien inmates--but I see them less as prisoners and more as immigrants or refugees.\n\nIt all started a few years ago when small meteorite structures randomly started to impact earth; most were about 7-8 feet long, with some outliers. Governments swarmed to the crash sites, sending swaths of scientists and military personal to analyze the crap out of everything. When the aliens would pop out of their pods, everybody would freak out and round them up. Pretty soon an international holding place for the new visitors was built, and all the aliens have since then been sent there.\n\nAs soon as they could, every agency imaginable was trying to conduct interviews on these guys to figure out why they came here. Did they want a trade agreement? Share technological advances? Declare war? Turns out, just about every alien had the same story: The officials of their worlds had labeled our planet insane were using us as an intergalactic loony bin.\n\nThe thing was, most of the newcomers were completely normal, at least to us. Some of them had committed some pretty brutal crimes, to be sure, but the majority had apparently been only branded \"mentally challenged\" by their native psychoanalysts. But even then, almost all of them acted like the best of us. World leaders decided to let them mingle with humans as a social experiment, which is where I come in. I just keep regular checkups on the lives of a fraction of our new inhabitants.\n\nNothing huge happened after they were let out (the safe ones, since we got a decent influx of hardened criminals. We kept them locked up). Social media blew up, but it explodes at the mere drop of a pen if it has something to do with what people like. And people liked these aliens because they basically melded right into human culture in no time. They talk like us, interact like us; they're smarter and more polite than most of us--there's virtually *nothing* wrong with them, save the occasional Jackass-esque stunt, for which I blame social media (let's face it, a lot of people on the Internet do and promote stupid shit).\n\nNothing's really changed except that we've an international prison and a bunch of walking, talking human-sized invertebrates in the work force. And considering what's been in sci-fi cartoons and movies, even *that* stuff's not new to us.\n\nIt really just makes me wonder what kind of uptight assholes we have as neighbors in this universe.",
"\"Sir Egglesworth IV, it seems quite likely that these.. how do you say? ... Hoouuumaaanz?.. are most surely, indeed most definitely, utterly and irredeemably insane.\" Miss Pottsmith exclaimed with her shrilly-pitched squeal.\n\n\"Hmm, yes.. Quite.\" Sir Egglesworth was somewhat more reserved in his verbal communications, preferring instead to stare at his collection of items with gears and nod absentmindedly to himself whilst stroking his whiskers.\n\n\"Oh! 'Twould make a marvelous asylum! I can just imagine it now!' Miss Pottsmith had that dreamy look in her eyes, as if she could imagine all the loonies gathering together to cavort and frolic gaily amongst one another in some sort of ritualistic reunion. 'I shall command it at once!' She sipped her cold tea and hummed softly to the stuffed animals arranged around her tea-party set.\n\nSir Egglesworth simply nodded.",
"I have known Memphis for a long time. He's always had his own strange habits. I am not talking about his tendency to say completely indecent things to girls at bars. I have had my own drunken misadventures. It is not his large, extensive barby collection. I have collected similar strange things... I'd rather not talk about it. I know Lissy steals girl's underwear from the gym changing room. No clue what she uses it for, but we all have our 'thing'.\n\nNo, what sometimes started to bother me about Memphis was his tendency to look up at the sky. Almost wondering, it seemed, what was out there. I would have expected such a thing from an astrophysics professor, PhD with honours from Utrecht, Post-doc at Manchester, all the good stuff. You have to be a little crazy to achieve such things. Yet when he spoke about the worlds that were available out there, it almost seemed like he had been there. He amazed the scientific world by pointing out a number of start systems that would not have been discovered for a while yet, had it not been for his inginuity.\n\nIt was that evening, I caught him staring at the sky.\n\n\"Memphis,\" I asked him. \" What is wrong?\" \n\n\"They are bringing another shipment in,\" he said. \"Unfit for life on the Chosen Planets. Insane is the word you would use for it. Like me.\"\n\n\"I would never call you insane, Memphis. Just a little eccentric.\" \n\nHe turned and smiled. \"That is because we are good company that way. We lunatics should stick together. It is a hostile galaxy out there.\"\n\nI grinned and allowed him to stay in his thoughts. He must be lonely at times, not having a girlfriend or boysfriend. Yet I dared not pity him.\n\nA bright flash of light made me turn back. Memphis was holding a naked young woman in his arms, who seemed strangely unaccustomed to the ground she was standing on. Collapsing on her feet, she started to the heavens as well.\n\n\"Who is that...?\" I asked, mouth agape.\n\n\"This is Hidsranme. Recently found incurably insane by the Board of Interplanar Security,\" Memphis said.\n\n\"How did they figure that?\"\n\nThe girl looked up, grinning with white teeth exposed. \"I really like cats.\""
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To the mods: The poem that I wrote (and maybe anyone's who comments) may be under 30 words. So I am asking if you may let them slide. I would really appreciate it.
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[WP] Poems about death.
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"There's a willow tree\n\nout back, where I used to sit.\n\nWide and waving,\n\nThick and flowing\n\nBrushing over my face,\n\nLittle sharp-edged leaves.\n\nI met her\n\nbeneath that tree,\n\n(Not really, but almost)\n\nA long many years back,\n\nAnd we kissed in the wind\n\nand the sun\n\nand the swaying branches.\n\nPerhaps I should not have asked\n\nthem to dig there.\n\nIt's not the same\n\nwith a great slab of stone.\n\nChokes the roots,\n\nI guess. She's sleeping beneath\n\nthe swaying leaves\n\nand on melancholy days\n\nI take my shuddering frame\n\nfor a brief marathon\n\nacross the lawn\n\nand sit next to her\n\nagain.",
"Beset by squalor\nreaching past pizza boxes\nto roll a cigarette from\nstamped out ash.\nNickels line my mattress;\nChange from stagnation\npaid in cash.\nIf these crumpled receipts\ncould account for the truth\nbut I can't count the times\nthe truth hasn't been good enough,\nto forgo substituting the stories\nstacked around my spine\nand my head\nand everywhere the sleeves from my stained sweaters hasn't reached.\nLiquid garbage is a wish in this trash bin.\nEverything has solidified around me.\nCompact as a cube,\nshipped off to China, so\nmaybe I'll live again as the lawn chairs\nat your family outing.\n\n---\nI don't know if this is good, but the person who wrote it wants to die.",
"Is this the real life? \nIs this just fantasy? \nNo less than 30 words, \nOr I'm not even history. \nOpen your eyes, \nDon't leave it to bots, and see, \nI'm not \"low effort\", writer just lacks vocabulary, \nBecause he's easy come, easy go, \nlittle bland, little slow. \nAnyway don't delete me, might not matter to bots, but to me? to me... \nPS: Bohemian Rhapsody can be understood similarly too.",
"Is it dark,\n\nthe place we go\n\nbeyond this life?\n\nIs it filled with fire?\n\nOr is it filled with ice?\n\nOr everything nice?\n\nIs there anything,\n\nwhen we close our eyes,\n\nto open nevermore?\n\nOr do we fade,\n\neternally resting,\n\nwithout thought,\n\nnor dream.\n\n\nA litany of thoughts,\n\nThought long ago,\n\nBefore you,\n\nEver pondering,\n\nCould even ask why,\n\nHave been answered, \n\nAnd forgotten with time.\n\nJust like the past,\n\nThe future holds questions,\n\nMore than answers.\n\nAnd none who could ever answer,\n\nWhat it is that we must know.\n\nWhat lies beyond that twinkling gate?\n\nWhat swims within that dark abyss,\n\nWhich teeming, brims,\n\nWith all the souls who've ever been.\n\nYou cry your question,\n\nHands held into the sky.\n\nThere is no answer.\n\nNo answer to find,\n\nBut the one from which you hide,\n\nBut that steely end,\n\nAnd bittersweet goodbye. \n\n"
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[WP] "I know we promised that we could put you in touch with copies of yourself from other universes, but we're going to have to give your money back - I'm sorry, but they're all dead."
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"\"goddammit... he's good...\" the grizzled man thought to himself as he took the cash and unceremoniously stuffed it into his jacket pocket dropping a bill on the floor. he knew he had to get back to the garage. out here he was vulnerable, but at the garage he had... well, nothing really. but it just felt safer there. something about all that heavy machinery. of course, he knew it wouldnt do him any good. all the tire irons and chains in the world werent going to be enough. suddenly it occoured to him that he really was well and truly fucked. he considered wetting himself, but alas, he did not have to pee. this really wasnt his day. he couldnt even wet himself properly. \n\nat this point he noticed people staring. he checked himself. nope, still bone dry. but then he looked again and realized something was going on behind him. something that had these people terrified into silence. moments passed as he felt the adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream, the sweat beading on his forehead. this was it. he was the last one, and soon there wouldnt be any more. there was supposed to be a dozen or so of them left, but apparently the last few days had been productive for \"that fucking monster\" as he had come to call it.\n\nwell, today would put an end to all that inhuman productivity. he took one last moment to consider all that would be lost when it was all over. the sheer scope of the tragedy was too much to bear. it all depended on him, but he was broken. the knowledge that he was the only survivor had stripped him of all his resolve. he felt so tired. after one last long, slow, luxurious breath, he turned around. \n\nit was much too close. whatever it was was way too close. it took him a moment to get his eyes to cooperate and focus on the object. this wasnt good. he looked up to see who it was behind the almost comically oversized pistol. this time he did wet himself. \n\nit took several seconds, but all at once several screams and shouts rang out in the lobby as the assailant was bathed in an overwhelmingly bright light. before anyone could move, he was gone. the clerk stood motionless behind the desk, afraid to look down at the dead man on the floor as the blood began to dry on her cheeks. ",
"I paused, for the appropriate amount of time. What emotion was the right one, here? Anger? *Fear?* No, not fear. Anxiety and surprise, then. How did anxiety go? Widened eyes, thin lips? A sense of urgency in my voice? *Yes, that was it*\n\n\"Are you... Are you sure?!\" \n\nHe nodded, looking both bashful and a bit apprehensive. No confusion, which meant I'd guessed right, then. Interaction was difficult for someone like me. Faking sympathy was the hardest, but sometimes, when the *need* gets bad? There's nothing like attending the *funeral*. So *exciting*, standing there, feeling all of those other people you've *touched* around you... \n\nOf course, there's forensics, now. *Too much* forensics. DNA sniffers, miniaturized mass spectrometers... It's gotten nearly impossible to do *anything*, nowadays, without ending up on some registry-or-other. I needed a new approach. \n\nDimension hopping has been around for years, and people used it all the time, to find work, or maybe a nicer place to live, but I had a very different idea for how to use it. A way where DNA wouldn't matter.\n\nI can't help that I have a *type*, can I? Most everyone does. But it looked like there would be no more easy targets. No more *perfect crimes*. I had to run out sometime. I was going to need to change my tastes. Reinvent my technique.\n\nMaybe I could take this refund, and rent myself a nice little cabin in the woods somewhere. Far from the main roads. \n\nOne with a *shed.*\n\n",
"\"Jenna?\" I heard. I stopped writing in my notebook and got up. \"Jennnnnnnaaaaaa--\"\n\n\"I'm right here, jeez.\" I complain, hurrying out into the living room. My roommate, Lisa, grinned brightly at me. She was covered in grime-- no surprise, considering our jobs-- and holding up two pristine white cards.\n\n\"You won't believe what I won today!\"\n\n\"Rent money?\"\n\n\"Better!\"\n\n\"I honestly can't think of anything better than rent money.\"\n\n\"Then you're not trying!\" Lisa pouted. \"You remember the lottery at your job a month ago?\"\n\nI frowned. \"I don't remember anything that happened a month ago. Well, I guess we paid rent a month ago, but--\"\n\n\"Stop thinking about rent! I'm talking about the Another Me program!\"\n\n\"...\" I thought hard. Another Me had sponsored something at my job, I recalled that much. \"...I do remember something like that.\"\n\nLisa grinned. \" They sponsored my job too and-- Look! I won the cards!\"\n\n\"Oh. To do what?\"\n\n\"To visit our alternate universe selves!\" She cried, seeming fed up with me.\n\n\"Ah. And this isn't all smoke and mirrors? Like that Total Recall place about... ten or so years ago? It's not like that right? Where it's all complete bull?\"\n\n\"Didn't Total Recall work too well?\"\n\n\"I don't know, I just remember it had to be shut down.\"\n\n\"Jenna. Do you NOT want the card? I could give it to someone else. Steve. Leeanna.\"\n\n\"I do want it.\" I said, hurriedly. \"I'm just skeptical, that's all. I can't ask questions?\"\n\n\"...Well, don't ask ME questions.\" Lisa said, putting the cards on the side table. \"I'm gonna take a shower. We can redeem the cards when you get off of work tomorrow.\"\n\n\"You don't have work?\"\n\n\"No, I do. But I took the day off because I wanted to do this thing!\" Lisa said, hurring to the bathroom before I got a word in edgewise. I waited for her to turn on the water before I picked up one of the cards. It was thin and light. When tilted, you could read \"Another Me\" in some holographic ink on it. It wasn't a regular card, it was one of the special key cards that required imprinting to be fully read. Lisa had already applied her fingerprint to one, rendering it illegible to me. The other one was pristine and perfect. All I had to do was press my finger into some of the DNA Imprinting ink and press it to the card, and it would show me more information. What information, I wondered, could a place like Another Me need to hide?\n\nI had work in two hours... there was no reason to think too hard about it. It was probably just a scheme for rich people to get richer, like some kind of snake oil. I set the card back down and headed back to my room.\n______\n\nWork was as grueling as ever. To make us less irritable, they projected a blue sky image onto the ceiling of the facility. It's weird because the sky hasn't been blue for... decades? I've never seen a real blue sky, but I'm sure my parents might've.\n\nSteve worked this job with me, and I chatted with him like always. Apparently, Lisa had already told him about her win. \"So Lisa won, did you hear? She said she was going to take you to Another Me!\" Steve shouted over the cauldron's loud noises. \"You guys are lucky! Another Me is really cool!\"\n\n\"You've been?\" I shouted back.\n\n\"Oh, yeah! Tons of times!\"\n\n\"Isn't it kind of expensive?\"\n\n\"It is, yeah! But my other self is doing the job I wanted to do, and I just want to know what that's like!\"\n\nI pondered this as Steve and I started turning the crank to mix the molten metal in our cauldron. What if my alternate universe me because a chef, like I'd wanted? I wouldn't want to go see them again. Steve was punishing himself by returning.\n\n\"Hey, what's the mixture like?\" Steve asked. I checked my screen.\n\n\"It looks like we're low on phosphorous,\" I told him. \"I'll put in a request.\" I touched the order button on the screen and we continued mixing. There were about twenty other cauldrons like ours in this area, so I wasn't expecting to get the phosphorous anytime soon.\n\n\"Lisa got really lucky,\" Steve shouted again. \"I wish I'd won those tickets!\"\n\nI shrugged. If Steve didn't think it was so bad, then maybe it wasn't?\n______\n\nLisa was impatient by the time I got out of the shower. Steve had convinced me that the experience was worth while, but not that it was real. I mean, Steve's dream job was owning ERTHMobile, which is crazy. Steve owning any company other than ERTHMobile made more sense than that. ERTHMobile ran almost every single transportation service off of Earth. For Steve-- who hadn't graduated from college, like myself and Lisa-- to make it there, he must've won at least seven lotteries in that world.\n\n\"Hurry up! Have you imprinted on the card yet?\" Lisa complained through the door when I turned off the water. A gust of hot air hit me as the drying cycle began.\n\n\"What? Oh, right. Are they open at 5?\" I asked, glancing over at the pristine card sitting on the edge of the sink.\n\n\"What? I mean... yeah. No? I don't know!\"\n\n\"Check your card!\" I told her. I turned off the drying and stepped out of the shower, picking up a T-shirt I wore to sleep. \"I've got like two hours before they open, right? I can take a nap... right?\"\n\n\"Ugh! Fine! They open at 8.\"\n\n\"See, so it's 3 hours. I'm going to take a nap.\"\n\n\"Imprint first!\" Lisa whined. \"I want to know what your card says!\"\n\n\"Why? What does yours say?\"\n\n\"It just tells you how many alternate universe versions of you exist. There are five of me.\"\n\n\"Really...?\" I murmured. \"...Steve only talked about one of him.\"\n\n\"Yeah, you can have a varying number of them.\" Lisa said. \"Steve's other one lives in a world similar to ours, but I kind of hope mine doesn't. What about you, Jenna?\"\n\n\"Dunno. A different world would be nice.\"\n\n\"There's ink in there, just imprint already!\"\n\n\"OK, OK.\" I complained. I rooted around in the bathroom until I found the DNA Imprinting ink, and then I imprinted on the card. My finger print swirled as the card loaded my data, and then finally took the shape of a number.\n\n0.\n______\n\nI lied to Lisa about it. I figured the card just malfunctioned. So when we got to Another Me, I did exactly what Lisa did. I walked up the the front desk and I showed the clerk there my card. The young woman put on a visor to read the cards and scanned Lisa's card, but balked at mine. She took the visor off and rebooted it and looked at the card again.\n\n\"Is something wrong?\" Lisa asked.\n\n\"Ah. Yes, this card seems to be defective...\" The clerk said. \"I'll see if I can get you a replacement, Miss Black.\"\n\n\"OK.\" I said.\n\n\"That sucks...\" Lisa murmured. She seemed impatient. I couldn't blame her, we barely got any vacation time.\n\n\"You can go ahead, Lisa,\" I said. \"It won't take too long, right?\"\n\nThe clerk shook her head. \"Just go through these gates and straight down the hall. There'll be someone waiting for you,\" Seeming happy enough, Lisa went through the white gates leading furthering into the facility. The clerk made a phone call and shortly after Lisa left, a new white card printed from the clerk's console. \"Sorry about the wait. Please...\" She pushed some ink towards me. \"Imprint.\"\n\nI did as she said. The number came up again.\n\n0.\n\nShe stared. \"Oh.\" She said. Clearly this was her first time seeing a 0. \"Let me call an engineer...\" She said. \"This is... hmm.\"\n\nI waited as she called someone else. This time, a hologram projected from her console. \"Hi.\" The man in the hologram said. \"I'm David Henry.\"\n\n\"Jenna Black.\" I introduced myself. \"Nice to meet you.\"\n\n\"Same here!\" David said. \"So Leah says you keep getting a 0 on your cards? Can I ask if you have a history of disease in your family?\"\n\n\"I do not.\"\n\n\"Hmm.\" David started typing on something that wasn't in the hologram. \"And can I ask if you were recently paroled for anything?\"\n\n\"No. And I've never been to prison.\"\n\n\"Alright, and are you currently pregnant?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\nDavid nodded. \"Alright. Another card should be printing now...\" As he spoke, a card printed from the console. \"Please, try again.\"\n\nI imprinted. The card came up with the same number.\n\n0.\n\n\"What is it, Leah?\" David asked.\n\n\"...0.\" She said, her voice hushed.\n\n\"What the hell... alright, let her through. Jenna, you'll be going to a special room.\"\n\n\"Uh...\" I started. \"I don't really mind not doing this, but--\"\n\nDavid shook his head. \"I insist.\"\n\nI wanted to say no, but Leah had pressed a button and a robot took my hand and pulled me away, to a room with an unlabeled door. Inside, there was a large complicated chair based console, which the robot lead me to. It waited until I sat down to leave. When the door closed, the chair turned on. 9 pictures of me appeared before my eyes, and over each one a text bar read \"Searching...\" and, after a couple of seconds, in all caps and bold, in blinking read text, each of them read \"DEAD\".\n\nA pre-recorded hologram popped up. \"Another Me would like to apologize for this inconvenience. We promised that we could put you in touch with copies of yourself from other universes, but we're going to have to give your money back. According to our sources, communication is impossible. I'm sorry, but they're all dead.\"\n\nI stared at the hologram for what felt like forever.\n\n\"Do you have any questions?\" It asked.\n\n\"...How did they... die?\" I asked.\n\n\"Please stand by.\"\n\nThe pictures of me all started loading some data. Then, files were placed before me. I opened one. Revolutionary Leader, murdered. The next one read the same. And the next. And the next. All nine of me were revolutionaries who were murdered. I pressed the print button, and a bunch of papers printed out of the chair.\n\n\"Your life is in danger.\" The hologram said. \"Requesting safe transport to undisclosed safe house for further investigation.\"\n\nI skimmed the file but couldn't make heads or tails of it. 9 versions of me, all in a universe similar to this one... all dead. All leaders of some kind of revolution. A revolution that--\n\nThe door opened. Men in suits were standing in the doorway.\n\n\"Miss Black.\" One said. \"Please come with us.\""
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[WP] You are host to the spirit of an old-school supervillain. They can take control of your body when you're drunk, but because of the memory loss, you have no idea it happens.
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"\"Please don't take another drink!\"\n\nThe room spun around us, and I slurred my speech as I told my self righteous friend to fuck himself. Tequila burned down my throat and I made another attempt to throw at the dartboard. I was already losing badly. Might as well have some drinks to enjoy the time. Everything faded around me and the room spun more. \n\nThe next thing I knew, I woke up in a small room. It was less a room, and more like a cell with a glass door that wouldn't break no matter how much I pounded on it. My head felt like someone had driven a spike through it, and I had bruises all over my body. The stench of puke wafted through the room, and I vomitted onto the floor. \"Where am I?\"\n\nThe door hissed open. Boots clapped against the metallic floor, and a man rounded the corner in the hall. Bright spandex and a logo on his chest marked him as a Hero. His mask protected his identity, and his voice was distorted. \"You are free to go.\"\n\n\"Why do you keep kidnapping me?\"\n\n\"For your own safety.\"\n\n\"How long has it been this time?\" Something seems familiar about this Hero as he escorted me from his hideout. It wasn't just because I always see him on the news. I couldn't quite place it though. \n\n\"A week.\" \n\nI swore. \"This is how you get supervillains, ya know.\"\n\nAs I went home, I frantically caught up with all my friends and family. They were all worried about me disappearing for a week, especially since Boozeman struck again. This time he robbed several liquor stores as well as taking several barrels of whiskey from a wholesale store. Scott, the man from the bar, seemed especially worried. \n\nThe worst part was that girl who's phone number I got had already moved on and didn't even remember me. Sometimes, I really hate the Heroes of this planet, and why do they always have to pick on me?!",
"Thomas Delano wasn't quite sure why he had no friends anymore. It was mostly because he couldn't stop talking about gerbils and he liked wearing really tight shorts all the time (two seperate problems, just to be clear). However, that's not why Frida - a professional snake charmer - wouldn't talk to him anymore. \n\nIt all began when Thomas, which is long for 'Tom', found himself in a mostly empty pub in North-Eastern England - an area best described as 'repellant' or 'Middlesborough'.\n\nDespite it being his hometown, he hadn't been to 'Ye Olde Wetherspoons' before. After taking a sip of his suspiciously cloudy pint, Tom could see why only two other people were there in the pub on a Friday night. Despite that he agonisingly finished his drink and went back to his home (which was named One of the Top Ten things to avoid in the Teeside).\n\nTwo weeks passed without anything of note - apart from when Tom caught Frida naked with her snake Farah, but, we don't really talk about that. Exactly a fortnight since the day Tom had that digusting ale, he found himself in a house party in Newcastle - home to John Snow (no not that one). \n\nHe bungled his way through the flaming sambuca shots, the one-sided conversations about gerbils and Gazza starting a fight with a Sunderland fan. Those are the parts he remembers.\n\nThe next day, Frida refused to speak to Tom. He wasn't quite sure why. Surely it wasn't the tight shorts? It wasn't.\n\nThe problem was Ra-Koon, an old Arabian supervillian. You see, he didn't like snakes too much.\n\n(to be continued)",
"I was woken up by someone trying to kiss me. My boyfriend trying his hand at an early morning quickie, no doubt. Fat chance: we were at his parents’ house for the weekend, no way was I going to risk his parents hearing us have sex, not exactly the kind of first impression I wanted to make. Besides, his breath smelled awful. I couldn’t really talk, mind you: my mouth tasted like a cow’s arse. I couldn’t remember if I’d brushed my teeth or not last night. I’d probably forgotten, hence the unusual morning breath. \n\nI tried batting him away, and my hand connected with something far, far hairier than my boyfriend could ever hope to be. My eyes shot open, only to be greeted by the round, flat face of a white, persian cat going to town on my nose with its rough tongue. \n\nIn a move that, in hindsight, should have got my face clawed off, I sat bolt upright, causing the cat to drop about four feet onto the floor. Instead of tearing me to shreds, the cat didn’t skip a beat. It leapt back up, becoming a circular puddle of fur on my lap. Instinctively, I began stroking it. It started purring. \n\nI didn’t remember my in-laws owning a cat. Deciding not to tempt fate a second time by dropping the cat on the floor, I continued stroking it and I looked at my surroundings. \n\nHowever, something was off with my vision. One of my eyes didn’t seem to be working. Panicking, in my half awake state, that it had fallen out or I’d gone blind, I put a shaky hand to my face, only to be met with fabric. An eyepatch? Why the fuck was I wearing an eyepatch? \n\nPulling off the eyepatch to find that, thankfully, my vision was fine, I wasn’t particularly comforted by what I saw. Rather than seeing the tiny, neat spare bedroom, as I was expecting, I found myself in the sitting room, although not as I remembered it from last night. It was heinously messy. I was sat on top of a surprisingly comfortable leather chair, and, with a gentle push of my hips, found that it swiveled with ease. The motion wasn’t particularly pleasant, and sent a wave of nausea rippling through my body. I noticed that my head was pounding too. \n\nThere was a lot of broken glass on the floor and, most alarmingly, what appeared to be trails of blood streaked across the carpet, leading out into the hallway. \n\nTiptoeing my way through the lounge, I made it to the hall. The hallway wasn’t in a much better state than the lounge. I continued to follow the hallway round, and found myself in the kitchen. Well, what was left of the kitchen: there was a giant black circle of soot, as if something had exploded, right in the centre of the floor. All of the cupboards were hanging open, some of them half off their hinges, and the glass in the windows was smashed, leaving the frames empty. Looking up at the ceiling, I noticed a large circle seemed to have been smashed straight through. I walked over to get a closer look. The circle seemed to continue straight up through the centre of the house until I could quite clearly make out the morning sky. \n\nA sharp “miaow” made me jump, and I looked down to see that the strange cat from before was sat by my feet, staring up at me expectantly. Upon seeing it had my attention, it slinked off into the hallway, pausing to look back at me, as if asking me to follow. \n\nStarting to think this was a very vivid dream, I decided to throw caution to the wind and see where the cat wanted to take me. \n\nWe approached the end of the hallway, and the cat started pawing at the door to the basement. As it scratched, I made out muffled yelling. It was definitely my boyfriend and his parents. \n\nImmediately I pulled the door open and bolted down the stairs. \n\n\n"
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[WP] Make me cry in 200 words or less
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"Mama wake up!!!\n\tA man in a blue outfit pulls me off her telling me it’s okay. It’s not okay my mama is sleeping and I have to wake her up. I gotta go into the apartment to get her alarm clock, it always wakes her up in the mornin’. I squirm through his big arms and run through the ally up to our house. I can’t find her alarm clock, if I don’t find it mama will never wake up. At last I find it on her bed stand, and rush back to the scary ally where mama doesn’t let me go in without her. We were takin’ a short cut down there to the park when I heard a big boom and mama fell down and went to sleep. There was red sticky stuff under her, it looks like the red stuff that comes when I cut my self. Silly mama she must have cut herself and it hurt so bad she fell asleep. When I get back down to the bad place mama isn’t there anymore. Then man in the blue suit comes up to me and tells me that mama’s gone, I wonder where she went? \n",
"It was such a nice day today! Such a lovely day comes with some nice, not feel bad television. I sat down and flipped through channels, finally stopping at comedy central. Futurama was on. It was near the end of the episode, and Fry was telling Bender something about remembering. Suddenly, A familiar song fills my ears. One that stays with you no matter what you search, what you eat, what you breathe, and breaks your heart like a walnut around Christmas season.\n\n*\"If it takes forever, I will wait for you...\"*\n\nIt was such a nice day today.",
"so ther was once a guy and a gurl\nthe gurl takes guy shopping\nguy goes off and does his own thing while gurl is changing\ngurl asks how she looks but guy not responding so she look outside and guy not there\nshe run around and find him\nshe asks \"do u luv me 4ever\"\nguy say \"no\"\ngurl sad runs into elevator and it closes on her and slice hur in half\nguy pulls out a ring and says \"dis is 4 my boyfrend i was gay bitch\"\nlike if you cry evertim",
"I stood by my window, and glanced at the clock. It was getting late. She should be here by now.\n\nFinally, through the window across the narrow gap, saw her bedroom light turn on, then she finally came into view. I breathed a sigh of relief.\n\nShe opened her window. “Sorry I'm late. My mom, she...”\n\n“It's ok, you don't have to explain,” I responded.\n\n“So how was your day?”\n\n“It was alright. I've been worried about you though. You weren't at school today.”\n\n“I know...Mom kept me home.”\n\n“Why?”\n\nShe just shook her head. “I...don't want to talk about it.”\n\nI shuddered to think of what that meant. \n\n“I'm sorry, Elspeth. I've tried telling people.”\n\n“No don't worry, it's my prob-”\n\nSuddenly I heard her door open. “Who are you talking to?” My heart jumped and started pounding. It was her mother. Elspeth was frozen in her place. “WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?” Her mother stormed into view and looked at me.\n\n“WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT TALKING TO HIM?” she grabbed Elspeth by her shoulders. “ANSWER ME!” Elspeth turned and stared at me as her mother began to shake her.\n\nThis was it. The end.",
"It was finally happening. After so many years, so many false hopes. The first episode was about to start.\n\nI couldn't believe I was about to watch Firefly season 2. I clutched my replica Malcolm Reynolds, giddy with excitement. My pulse was racing. It was going really fast actually. Maybe I should have followed up on that appointment.\n\nThe show started. An opening landscape shot. I felt a stab of pain in my chest. As I fell to the floor I heard the theme tune play. Then nothing more.",
"Fuck you, you shithead. You're fucking worthless. You're stupid, and I hope your sister knows what you've been doing to her in her sleep. You know, your mother ALWAYS wanted kids, and I said no, let's wait for later. You know what? Now I'm glad that I had kids, so I can criticize them about how they're lazy, they're stupid, they're a waste of money. AND your mother will never know, because your mother is always at some fucking bar, drinking fucking alcohol ALL day fucking long and probably fuck 10 dudes at once. She's full of stress, because of you. Now, go to fucking sleep. Have a fucking horrible night.",
"A rose sits on a window sill, wind carries the sweet sickly scent to my nose. It's petals dance in the cool breeze a vibrant red the color of a blush on a lovers cheek. The stem lazily climbs down the window sill holding the wall tenderly. Thorns sharp and graceful sweep out of the vibrant life that is the flower. hot tears cut gashes into the face of my daughter, as I speak. What I wouldn't give to trade places with her, what I wouldn't trade to give her one more minute free from the inky blackness that has become her world. Trapped behind eyes that have become prison bars, sharp reminders that all they can still do is weep.",
"Tuesday the 24rd of December 2011\n\n618, 42nd street, Chicago, Illinois, USA\n\nDear Petar,\n\nHow have you been? I hope you are well. I can’t believe it has been another year. I’m 70 now, and you must be 39 now. It has been a hard year here in Srbija. We are once again entering winter.\n\nThis year your sister will not be coming over for Christmas. She has a new boyfriend that says she will not drive me around anymore. I haven’t seen her for some time, I hope she is well and I only wish for her zdravlja and happiness. Luckily, Mrs Aleksandra said that she would drive me to church, and help me get some firewood and a Badnjak for Christmas.\n\nMy heater has gone out, so I moved my mattress by the wood-stove. It is a little rough to sleep on, but I’ll be fine. I visited your mother’s grave at church today. The snow covering the graves and bushes looked so beautiful. I wish you could see it, but you are so far away.\n\nHristos se rodi. See you next year.\n\nReturn to sender, address unknown.\n\n</prompt> Critique is happily welcome. All the words that aren't in English, are in Serbian. I do not speak Serbian so any Serbs please correct me if i am wrong.\n\n* Srbija is Serbia\n* Zdravlja is Luck/Happiness/Joy\n* [Badnjak](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Badnjak_%28Serbian%29)",
"Sun settingly, eye wettingly, you were a part of me, but now we are apart. We parted ways and it's been days but I can't get you out of my heart. But don't cry for me, my love, if you can hear me. What is a tear alone if we don't cry it together? Like a song sung solo, it falls uncounted, not upon my shoulder. I won't cry without you either, I'll build a dam, my dearest. If one day we should meet again, that's when our tears will fall clearest. Don't remember me, my darling, a memory by yourself is un-sweet. If one day we should end our parting, we'll remember again together, all those days we were together.",
"\"Alright, alright, shh. It will be okay, don't cry.\"\n\n\"My heart... it hurts... I can't feel... my legs... I can't feel them! My legs are gone!\"\n\n\"Calm down, son. I'm here for you. It'll be okay, the stretcher bearer is coming right now.\"\n\n\"Please, soon.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, it's okay. It's okay. Just hold on for me, alright?\"\n\n\"I never wanted to hurt them.\"\n\n\"What, son?\"\n\n\"I never wanted to hurt the enemy...\"\n\n\"Not many of us really did, son. Keep breathing. The stretcher bearer is almost here, then you will be treated and we'll come back home and never hurt a soul again. No more wounded Tommies and Jerries, I promise. Just hold on for me. Breathe in, breathe out. Yes, just like that. Breathe in, breathe out.\"\n\n\"I'm scared, Father...\"\n\n\"It's okay. You won't die. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in. *Breathe in!*\"\n\n...\n\n\"For the love of god, breathe in...\"",
"Gary looked around the room.\n\n\"Where am I?\" he thought.\n\nHe kept looking trying to find something, and then saw his son outside. He looked older than Gary remembered.\n\n\"John?\" called Gary.\n\n\"Yes dad, I’m here.\" John stopped talking to the nurse and walked towards his dad. He had mud all over him, his hands were rough, his fingernails had dirt in them and he looked tired.\n\n\"I could barely recognize you.\" exclaimed Gary with a smile. \"Why are you such a mess?\" He said when the boy was close enough to see.\n\n\"Ah, I was just playing outside with my friends.\" John lied.\n\n\"Remember you have to practice your violin, it’s not enough that you have a gift, you have to work on It.\" said Gary with a hint of reprehension. John got teary eyed by the remark.\n\n\"I love you dad.\"\n\n\"I love you too son. Now go, I have to get some sleep before going to work tomorrow. There’s still a lot to be done.\"\n\nThey both smiled at each other and John left.\n\n\"That boy is going to be one of the greats. He just needs to.....\"\n\nGary looked around the room.\n\n\"Where am I?\" he thought.\n\n"
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>'The phenomenon is known as "sensitive dependence on initial conditions." This is sometimes referred to as the butterfly effect, e.g. a butterfly flapping its wings in South America can affect the weather in Central Park.'
We all know the myth. Paint me a picture, /r/WritingPrompts
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[WP] The Butterfly Effect is a very real, literal danger. Describe a world where people scramble to stop butterflies causing tornados around the world.
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"I remember sitting in Mrs. Robinson's science class in 5th grade. I found the unit on animals interesting enough, but when we got more specific and studied insects exclusively I thought it was absolutely fascinating. I got a 100% on that test and was so upset when we concluded the unit that I would spend all my free time in the library studying insects more. As I grew older my interests funneled and became more specific until I reached high school and was a self-proclaimed lepidoperist, or butterfly expert. \n\nMy peers would make fun of me for wearing hiking boots, high white socks, and khaki shorts to school every day. They laughed at my safari hat, and my butterfly net. I would often skip lunch to see if I could find any butterflies in the school court yard. I didn't have any friends, but I was ok with that. I had found my calling.\n\nI attended Penn State University after high school and majored in entomology. I hated all the partying, drinking, and social aspects that came with the raging hormones of college freshmen. I was on a quest for knowledge and so instead of partying I picked up a double-major in meteorology. I always found the weather interesting, not as interesting as butterflies of course, but I decided to spend my free time learning about it and I might as well get credit for it. \n\nSenior year I had to write a research paper to graduate and decided to combine my two fields of expertise. I originally decided to write a paper disproving \"sensitive dependence on initial conditions\" or the butterfly effect. I spent two months gathering research on my topic, but much to my surprise the research wasn't taking me the direction I originally anticipated. I began to suspect that the butterfly effect was, in fact, *real*. \n\nAt first I kept my findings to myself and conducted small scale experiments, all of which had similar results that supported my new findings. Finally the end of senior year came and it was time for me to present my research to a panel of professors and the dean who would grade me. \n\nAfter I gave my presentation the panel sat in silence scribbling notes in their notebooks. \"Well, Mr. Brockridge, you completed the project and met the research requirements, and so I will pass you. However, I would leave this particular piece out of my portfolio if I were you.\" the dean said to me with a wink. It was then that I realized the rest of the panel was snickering and trying to hold in their laughter. They thought I was crazy. All my hard work, and they thought I was a joke. Part of me died inside.\n\nGraduation came and went and I wasn't nearly as excited as I should have been. Despite all my knowledge and credentials I found myself in a 9-5, monday-friday, office job working for some company that sold office supplies. I kept the books on one of the accounts, or something. I hated it so much that eventualy I got into the routine of stopping at the liqour store every night and drinking a bottle of whiskey when I got home. All of my passion was gone.\n\nUntil one day, I was about half way through a bottle of Jack Daniels and was making some stove top mac-n-cheese in my apartment when there was a furious knock on the door. At first I tried to ignore it, but it came again, and then a third time. I went over and opened the door, there were two men in black suits, with black ties, wearing sunglasses even though they were inside. \"Are you Mr. Brockridge?\" one of them asked. \n\n\"I am.\" I replied. \"Who's asking?\" the whiskey was making me bold, and slightly annoyed that they were interrupting my nightly ritual.\n\nBoth men produced badges, I was too drunk to read the fine print. \"I'm agent Stone. This is my partner, agent Cressen. Is this your work?\" Agent Stone was holding my research project from college. \n\n\"How'd you get that?\" I asked. \n\n\"May we step inside?\" asked Stone. I invited them in, and turned off the stove. I was no longer hungry and I was pretty sure these guys weren't interested in sharing my piss poor excuse for dinner. \n\nWe sat on the couch and talked for about a half hour. They explained to me that, much to the surprise of a lot of very important people, my research was strangely accurate. What's more is that butterflies were reproducing at an alarming rate, and the once manageable butterfly effect was now getting out of hand. \n\nThe men finally left and I picked up my phone and called my boss. I knew he wouldn't answer so I left him a voice mail that simply stated \"Take your office supplies and shove them up your ass. I quit.\" Then I stumbled into the kitchen and poured the rest of the Jack Daniels down the drain. I went back into my bedroom and opened the closet. I had to dig around a bit, but I eventually found what I was looking for. I set my safari hat and butterfly net down on my bed. I started my new life in the morning. ",
"I don't really know how I'm supposed to format pseudo-screenplay mumbo jumbo, but here goes a vague attempt:\n\n------\n\n(*scene: a solitary building in a nondescript desert. The building is in poor repair, with crumbling paint and boards over the windows. No road is visible, but two horses are hobbled near the door. It is bright, and for several moments the only sound is the wind. Gradually, a light helicopter approaches from the distant horizon, moving quickly but covering a great distance. It touches down near the horses, just long enough for three men to step out, then lifts off again. Two of the men are armed; the third, SCHULTZ, clutches a leather case with both arms. He is visibly uncomfortable. The men wait for the helicopter to leave before moving towards the building.*)\n\n(*Interior: there is no furniture and no electricity -- some weapons are piled in the corners, and a large carpet covers a dirt floor. Two middle eastern men are seated there. The men from the helicopter enter through an arched opening and disarm themselves. SCHULTZ wears a panicked expression, and moves only when directed. He is led towards the carpet, where one of the middle easterners bids them all to sit.*)\n\n**ME #1**: As-salamu alaykum.\n\n**ARMED #1**: Wa-Alaikum-Salaam\n\n**ME #2**: I trust your journey was uneventful?\n\n**ARMED #1**: (*keeping eye contact*) All according to plan. (*He turns his head slightly towards the door*) Our fuel supply, however, is limited.\n\n**ME #2**: Then we shall conclude our business presently. \n\n(*He withdraws several small cylinders from within his cloak and passes them to **ARMED #2**. Upon inspection the cylinders are loaded tightly with gold coins. The armed men exchange nods.*)\n\n**ME #2**: We wish to examine her.\n\n(*SCHULTZ lays down his case gingerly and begins to open the clasps*)\n\n**ARMED #1**: We did not have time to contact you once the package was in transit. I hope you will be pleased.\n\n(*SCHULTZ delicately draws a transparent container from the case, and cautiously pushes it towards the Middle Eastern men. The action seems to cause him intense pain.*)\n\n**SCHULTZ**: The female is in good health. (*He clearly struggles to deliver this report.*) She has, however, laid her eggs, and will not survive for much longer. (*He finishes with an intensely fearful expression.*)\n\n(*ME #1 reaches for the container and examines it closely. There are dozens of eggs inside, and a majestic green butterfly, with various environmental elements present for sustained captivity. ME #1 is enchanted.*)\n\n**ARMED #2**: The arrangement specified one living female. The eggs are a gift, out of respect for your organization. \n\n**SCHULTZ**: They are extremely delicate at this stage. Even with meticulous care, only three in five will reach maturity.\n\n**ARMED #2**: Professor Schultz is the leading man in his field. He will stay to oversee the care of the larvae. \n\n(*The Middle Eastern men make approving gestures.*)\n\n**SCHULTZ**: (*incredulous*) I will?\n\n(*The ARMED MEN stand and bow.*)\n\n**ME #1**: I thank you for this gift. (*He opens his palms in a graceful, seated bowing motion*) If you have any further demands....\n\n**ARMED #2**: No demands. Only -- we would very much appreciate your continued business. \n\n**ME #1**: And you shall have it. (*speaking Arabic*) Go with God.\n\n(*The ARMED MEN retrieve their weapons and leave. SCHULTZ is left kneeling before the two MIDDLE EASTERN MEN, clutching his empty leather case with a defeated expression. An indistinct conversation continues in Arabic, reserved but jubilant, as the helicopter collects its passengers in the background.*)\n\n*roll title: THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT*",
"Not many people can do what I do. Not many people dare.\n\nAnd unless you’ve been living deep, deep underground since, well, ever, I’m the first and last line of defence between you and annihilation.\n\nVesuvius eruption: butterflies.\n\nShaanxi earthquake: butterflies.\n\nBhola cyclone: butterflies.\n\nThe Cretaceous extinction: goddamn butterflies.\n\nI am a lepidopterist. I am a butterfly-catcher. And it’s my job to catch and kill those garish bastards.\n\nI’ve been on the trail since I was seventeen, back in the dark days of the 1980s. Some of you are probably too young to remember it, and I doubt your parents talk about it much. Those were some of the worst years. That’s why ’87 is called year of the Monarch. They wiped the Canary islands out of existence, plain fell away into the sea. A tidal wave three storeys tall hit just about every major city with an Atlantic border. It was rough. \n\nThe Spanish had allowed their caterpillar population to get out of control. Conservationists, damn environmentalists, bleeding-heart liberals thinking that every creature has a right to life.\n\nThe only good butterfly is a dead butterfly. \n\nAfter they lost those islands, and a wave that damn near shook civilization to its knees, the U.N. got on board with a serious programme of extermination. It’s working. Apart from losing Orlando, Florida in 2010, there have been no major incidents lately.\n\nWe’re chasing the tornadoes and the earthquakes now, hunting the areas for the furry little leaf-chewing bastards before they can grow to do any harm. The human death-toll is waning, but it’s been a hard job. I’m the oldest lepidopterist still around. The trade’s full of young thrill-seekers, all balls and brawn. Their egos soon wither away when they’re faced with the terror of seeing a full grown Gatekeeper winging its way towards them, the winds picking up and the ground trembling. Nothing gives you a sense of your own mortality quite like it.\n\nI know this job will kill me. It’s got a 100% death rate. But if I can take a few more of them with me, watch them quiver and die as I squish their thorax between thumb and forefinger, I’ll be buried a content man.\n"
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[WP] With advancements in technology keeping people alive longer, the US can no longer keep paying Social Security and Medicare. When they reach age 65, people must take a test to see whether or not they are worth receiving benefits.
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"\"Dad, you're going to do fine.\"\n\nI don't remember ever holding his hand before in my life. In fact, he wasn't a very affectionate father at all. Loving, yes. But not the touchy type. This whole thing was very weird. \n\n\"I voted for this scum bag,\" he murmured, \"and this...this is how he repays me.\"\n\n\"We talked about this, Dad, remember? The president didn't have a hand in prolonging life. I'm sure it was a tough choice. You agreed it was a tough choice yesterday.\" \n\nI said, as endearingly as possible. Truth be told, we'd run this gauntlet each time he'd tried to apply for SS.\n\nHis first reason was that the pencil was too short. The second was that his hard working hands hurt too much, \"from the years of busting my hump day in day out, paying my god damn taxes all the way and then some.\"\n\nNeedless to say, I had no choice but facilitate. I didn't have the means to support him on my own. In fact, no one under 85 really had the means to provide for their parents. I was 86 and a half. \n\n\"Dad, remember that we talked about this last time? It isn't that sort of a test. It's an application you've got to fill out so you can take the test again. The test is where they check your health and organs, like a physical. They want to make sure you're tough enough to collect your benefits.\"\n\n\"Son. One day, when you're my age...you'll understand the absurdity of proving your physical health in order to display your financial disease.\""
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[WP] You've been having a difficult time finding a suitably evil horse for your nefarious needs when you see an advert in the newspaper: "UNCLE JIM'S EVIL HORSE STABLES!" Tell me of your subsequent visit.
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"\"How evil?\"\n\n\"Ma'am, I'd like to you imagine a hypothetical offspring of your least favorite ex and Satan himself.\"\n\n\"Okay.\"\n\n\"That person would *weep* to realize they could never be as evil as one of our horses. That's the minimum we require. Imagine, if you will, a baby. It has candy. Perhaps you think you know this parable.\" \n\n\"I am thinking that.\" \n\nHe gestured at a horse, with a hint of panic. \n\n\"Ma'am, this horse won't just take candy from a baby. This horse will take the candy, eat the baby, and return the candy to the parents...as a warning.\" \n\nI sighed. I'd heard as much from Uncle Eric's Evil Equine Emporium down the street. And look how that'd turned out. \n\nMy friends were waiting at the entrance, three nice men, already with their own horses. They waved. I waved. \n\n\"I don't want a horse with a mustache.\" I lectured him firmly. \"No monocles, none of these 'villainous' add-ons. And I don't want a great dumb stallion that's only ever stomped on peasants. I have an important occasion, here, and for it I need the most vicious beast to ever hatefully walk this earth.\"\n\nThe saleman smiled wider. I could almost see his molars. He was sweating.\n\n\"Look here, Ms. Ware-\"\n\n\"That's War.\"\n\nHe paused. \n\n\"Let's talk color.\" I smiled. \"What do you have in red?\" ",
"Lightning cackled to the north, lashing out in futility at the face of the distant mountains, their size magnificent, their presence indomitable. Typical of his brothers, to be quarreling on such a night. Rather, typical of Hanar to be wailing in those bleak clouds of spite, sending ineffectual tendrils, raw manifestations of his envy, towards Atos on such a night. \n\nKanaus shifted his gaze skyward, where Lunen showed her full face, pallid and beautiful, in a break between dense clouds. Her eyes searched for Atos, sought to penetrate Hanar’s obscuration even if only for a moment. To lock eyes with her love. A love that she was ever *drawn* to, yet could never reach.\n\nOf course, the growling thunder and flashes of light meant Atos and Hanar would be blinded with preoccupation for a time, neither able to focus attention on the lovely visage in the sky. And Kanaus, the youngest brother, had devised a scheme, one that would allow him to finally steal her away in silence. For himself.\n\nAll he needed was a horse. The right horse.\n\nAs rain pattered his exposed pate, Kanaus crept his way closer to the sodden shack that was Uncle Jim’s Evil Horse Stables. As he approached, a blinding spotlight was switched on, exposing him from the pressing darkness surrounding. Then he heard a penetrating voice, magnified by some crude horn atop the building, that said, “Come, friend! Have we got the horse for you!” \n\nKanaus made his way to the door and noted the sign above the entrance. It read the stable’s name in bright pink lettering on a field of yellow. “Not very evil,” Kanaus muttered, disappointment welling within him. He pushed open the door and stepped inside. \n\nA short, fat man with a penetrating smile and a bald head sat behind the lone, crudely constructed counter, if it could be called that. His attire was sadly simplistic and worn, as if he’d been using the same thin shift as his only clothing for years. Off to his side, a single horse, black as pitch, was standing in a pile of its own waste, drinking from a filthy bucket. The rest of the small room was unadorned.\n\n“Uncle Jim, I presume?” Kanaus asked.\n\n“Presumption is ever the bane of those in power,” the fat man said. “Is it not?”\n\nAfter a long pause Kanaus grunted and then turned around, as if to leave. But the strange man spoke up to stop him, “Alas, no. I am not Uncle Jim. My name is Hubert, and I shall sell you a horse tonight that will suit your sinister purpose, Master…?”\n\n“Kanaus,” he said with a wry smile, though he was fairly upset that it elicited no reaction from the man. “What’s your relation to Uncle Jim then, friend?” \n\n“No relation, really. Just slit his throat and stole his place about an hour ago. Didn’t much like how he was running the shop. He’s still out back,” Hubert said, gesturing to the door behind him, “if you want to have a chat. Don’t think he’ll be saying much but you can always try.”\n\n“No, I’ll trust your judgment in that regard. Though I must say I’m slightly disappointed by the… selection,” said Kanaus sourly as he glanced back at the horse.\n\n“Let me tell you, you need only alight yourself upon his back to know he’s the beast for you! He’ll morph to your every whim, his figure will change with your every desire,” Hubert said with an elaborate wave of his hand. “Imagination will be your only limit. An indomitable pair you will make, unassailable. I assure you!”\n\n“And I need only sit on his back to know this truly? Permit me, then, to test him for myself before we bargain?”\n\n“Permit you, I will not. I suspect I know the way of you evil folk. And what can I say? The risks are too great. I’m a business man, after all.”\n\nKanaus grunted at that. But a man spending his effort in this poor hovel would certainly be no match for Kanaus if he proved dishonest. And Kanaus was desperate.\n\n“What’s the going price, then, for such a fine beast?” Just then the horse loosed a bubbling, rancid display of flatulence and a sour taste settled itself in Kanaus’s mouth. He grimaced.\n\n“That right there is evidence enough. A fine, evil beast knows just how to present itself to a new master of suitable nature,” Hubert said. Rubbing his smooth head with pudgy fingers, he continued, “Now, I was prepared to exchange it for a nice full head of hair, but considering your sorry state… Alas, we will consider different avenues of trade. And no, coin will not do. It would be a pity to exchange such a magnificent beast for such a sorry excuse for wealth, for value. Perhaps something more pragmatic. A belt, for example.”\n\nKanaus narrowed his eyes at Hubert. The man *could* use a belt, he mused, but surely such an offer was not serious. Kanaus’s patience was wearing thin, despite only being here for a few minutes. The night would not last forever, after all. “A belt… Any belt will suffice?” \n\n“Yes indeed. I suspect that fashionable one you now don will be more than adequate. And who could say otherwise? A fine beast for a fine belt, a belt *from a god* no less. Oh yes, it will do just fine.” An eager gleam cast itself in Hubert’s eyes. One that was slightly unsettling, though Kanaus could not determine why. He lowered his hands to his belt and began removing it.\n\nHubert held out his hands and accepted the belt. In turn, he handed Kanaus a thin band of leather. “Reigns, for your mighty new partner. He need not equip them, but you must carry them on your being for him to obey, for your connection to be established.”\n\nKanaus took the leather strap, and, gazing intently at Hubert’s eyes, he slowly fed the strap through the loops at his waist and tied the ends together. “Fair trade,” he said with a smirk. And suddenly he could feel the beast in his mind. It seemed to swell with pride and courage at the meeting of their minds. And its name was whispered inside his head. “Ruin,” he said slowly, savoring it and the raw power of the beast at his side. “That is a good name.”\n\n“A worthy name for a worthy steed, no doubt!” Kanaus was already making his way out, the horse following his step. When he was out of the hut, he pushed himself onto Ruin’s back. The beast shivered and huge membranous wings sprouted from its sides as Kanaus projected the image in his mind. He bellowed a deep, hearty laugh and looked back at Hubert. What a pathetic man, to give up such a creature. \n\n“Smart of you, avoiding dishonesty in my presence. I trust you will not look back in regret at this moment” Kanaus said with absolute conviction.\n\n“You need not trust me in anything, Master Kanaus. I simply ask that you *remember* elegant Hubert. I wish you well on your quest!”\n\nAnd then Ruin, with Kanaus astride, pushed off into the air, soon to break through the dark clouds and look once more upon Lunen, who would be his before the night was through. He looked back once more at the foolish man in his shack’s doorway and saw Hubert glancing down at the belt. On his face was projected the most sinister smile Kanaus had ever seen.\n"
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[WP] A worldwide virus epidemic breaks out, threatening to drive humans to extinction. The only symptom of the virus is total joy and happiness that gets more intense the closer the infected gets to death.
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"\"You people need to understand, you're all dying! You need to inject yourself with this to cure yourselves.\" A man shouted to a crowd of people in a park. They leaped around with no worry in the world. \n\n\"I know you all feel fine, but it won't last forever.\" \n\nAn old man with a smile walked up to him, \"Why do you want us to feel terrible?\" \n\n\"I want you to live longer, It's this stupid sickness that makes you feel great. It's like a drug, meth makes you happy for a little bit as well, but you don't see everyone on meth, because it kills them. So why are you going to sacrifice your life to this sickness?\" \n\n\"Have you ever thought of us just living our life? Would you rather have the best 30 years of your life? or live 100 watching everyone around you die and slowly grow to the point you can't do anything for yourself.\" The sane old man explained. \n\nIf no one knows the meaning of life, whose to say it isn't to find ultimate happiness? ",
"\"I think there's something wrong with me.\"\n\n\"Oh? And why's that?\"\n\n\"I feel like I should be sad.\"\n\nJames was not a details person. If he was, he would have appreciated being able to get a good look at her face after such a long time. Perhaps, on another day, he'd love finally being able to see her piercing green eyes, or how her hair lifted with the delicate breeze. Instead, he took in the view as an indescribably whole, and what he saw left him breathless.\n\n\"Please put your mask back on,\" he said at last. To gaze upon the thing he loved was forbidden.\n\n\"Maybe we were wrong to fight it,\" she answered, closing her eyes and turning her face towards the breeze, \"don't you remember how happy they all were, in the end?\"\n\n\"But I don't want this to end.\"\n\nShe looked back towards him, and lifted off his mask with both hands. She leaned in and kissed him.\n\nPerhaps there was something wrong with James. After all, his mask had been cracked for weeks. But right then it didn't matter, for in that moment he was the happiest he could possibly be.",
"\"We are entering the Yurjin System, captain.\" \n\n\"Now that we are in their world, we ought to use their name for it, lieutenant.\" \n\n\"Yes, captain. We are entering the Solar System.\" \n\nThe grim starship was cruising at incredible speeds past the orbits of Pluto and Neptune. The Ji'har people had sent the starship after developing their space program and finding that an alien satellite had fallen into orbit around their planet. After recovering the probe and deciphering its contents, they had learned so much about this alien civilization. They had learned the language, they had learned the music, they had learned the location of this alien planet Earth, and its alien inhabitants, the 'humans'. \n\nThe Voyager probe had sent them on this path, and now they will finally meet the new gods that had, for a while, supplanted the old ones of the Ji'har. \n\n\"Put us into orbit, and scan. Attempt to establish communications. Alert me when you have.\" \n\n\"Yes, captain.\" \n\nThe captain returned to his quarters. One of his hearts was pumping so hard he could hardly keep it within his chest. The joy was almost murderously strong. The joy of having completed his mission, of being the first to meet the humans, of being chosen to be the envoy of the Ji'har. \n\n\"Focus...\" he said to himself, as he pressed a button and turned a knob in the metallic panel implanted into his chest. The medicine flowed into him, and calmed him, removing the creases of stress from his forehead and returning his heartbeat to the normal pace that the other heartbeat was at. \n\n*Beep beep* \n\n*\"Captain, report to the bridge. You...you'll want to hear this report in person.\"* \n\nThe captain made his way to the bridge. The ship was now in orbit around Earth. \n\n\"Lieutenant. Report.\" \n\n\"The planet is empty, sir. Has been for millenia.\" \n\n\"The humans have moved off-planet?\" \n\n\"Our scans show that they most likely did not develop that technology. In fact, carbon residues show that most of the humans likely died at home. Malformations in bone that we were able to find in our scans suggest malnourishment and starvation, despite the abundance of technology and...well...what appears to be wealth. It is as if they all just lay down and...decided to die.\" \n\nThe captain remained quiet. \n\n\"Captain, if I may say so, it kind of looks like...\" \n\n\"It is. It's the euphoria virus.\" \n\n\"Why didn't they fight it? Like we did? Why didn't they implant the inhibitors?\" \n\n\"I don't know, lieutenant. I guess they chose to die happy.\"",
"It has started so suddenly, and there was nothing worse than being a child in this world. I didn't understand what was happening. People would seem so happy. They were out celebrating in the streets, singing and dancing. The parties got louder through the night; cars were getting flipped over, riot and screaming. Fireworks and music rattled the windows of our little apartment until about four in the morning. We heard a few people singing and stumbling down the streets, like they were drunk. My mother went out in the morning. She said she wanted to see what had happened. As she was leaving, I looks out the door, and saw hundreds of bodies strewn about on the ground. They were in trees and on cars. There was one man sitting in the park across the street. He was bleeding from a hole in his chest, but he just sat there and laughed. He got louder and louder, like a child that keeps getting tickled till they can't take it for one more second. Then he stopped. The silence cut through the morning air, and I watched him fall to the ground. My mother said that she would be right back, she was just going to the corner store. I waited for three hours, but she hadn't come back yet. I heard a noise outside the door, and opened it. That's when I saw the man. He had a gun over his shoulder, and a backpack as big as me. He had something over his face that he breathed through. He saw me, and beckoned me to him with a big but gentle hand. I stepped out into the street and took his hand. He put a smaller mask just like his over my face, and told me it would help me not get sick. He said that he saw my mother earlier, and she wanted me to go with him. He said that she couldn't some with us, and then he scooped me up in his arm. We got in a truck and he drove. He drove and drove until the city went away. He drove until we saw mountains, then we passed them by, and hey went away behind us like the city. He took me to a town where we met some people. He said they were his friends, and this is where they would meet if something like this ever happened. They had a whole system of buildings that had their own air, and we're all connected. They told me there was a germ in the air that made everyone sick. I stayed with them until One night, I heard laughing. It brought back such scary memories. I hated it now. I went to the window and looked out. There were all other people standing outside. There was a piece of paper taped to the window. It said sad things about how they didn't like it here and missed their families. At first I didn't understand. They all sat outside around a fire. They were drinking and singing. They had music playing, and seemed to be having such fun. They said that if they were going to die anyway, at least they would be happy this way. In a moment's time, I was sad, then confused, then I understood completely. I reached for the airlock handle and opened the door to the outside world. I was afraid at first, but soon, I had accepted it. I was with good people, and we were having such a fun time. I must have heard the same joke twenty times, but every time, it got funnier. I loved to laugh now, every time I did, my body got all tingly. I started laughing again, at something I don't even know. It felt like a million tiny hands were tickling me all over. It was too much, and it was good. No, it was great! It was incredible! How could anything be this fun and good! I was with such hilarious people and life was always this funny, wasn't it? I couldn't stand anymore. Tears filled my eyes as I giggled till I couldn't breathe. I tried to slow down and catch my breath, but the air went out of my lungs, and nothing would go back in. All the feelings of laughter flew away as a sharp pain stabbed my side. I glanced around, reaching for help anywhere, but only then I noticed the dead eyes of my friends lying around me. I gasped one last time, but only drew in the tiniest sip of bitter air. I looked up at the stars above me and heard nothing as my heart beat faded to whispers."
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[WP] You are the world's greatest assassin. A highway of bodies lie in your past. Today is the first day of your retirement.
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"''After a while...it just became routine. Just a regular job, you know? Make breakfast for my wife at 7, drop off the kids at school around 8, read the newspaper in my car, browse vacation homes in the back pages. Heading to the location never felt like you would expect. I know this sounds weird but'' the man paused, taking a small sip from the cup in front of him, ''it felt like doing groceries, you understand? Walk in, do what you have to do, leave. But then instead of paying, I got paid. Lots. For some reason it wasn't even about the cash. Sure, it helped, I can admit that. But just for the sake of how easy it was. Making a living, no pun intended'' he chuckled, peeking up to see the reaction of the other man in the room, but as there was no response he continued, ''and just doing the things I, we even, wanted to do. We had the means. And I would lie if that didn't make me happy. Made us all happy'' he concluded. He finished the dark brew, carefully placing the cup back on the glass table.\n\nThe man in white stared at his visitor, his eyebrows frowned slightly. After a long silence, he calmly asked: ''But then, why are you here?''\n\nNow the man in black frowned. ''I..to be honest I'm not entirely sure. Yesterday was the last day for me. I felt it was time to move on, not just for myself but for everyone involved. One last job, then we would move to the coast and just live peacefully. After all these years, even though I never felt negatively about it, it just felt the right thing to do. Quitting, that is. My kids were easily adults now, my wife and I didn't have too much time left to enjoy all there is too see. So that was the plan. Moving on.\n\n''So what happened?'' the man in white asked him patiently.\n\n''Well..'' he started, and stopped again. *How strange is it that these therapists are always so similar,* he wondered. *Soft, soothing voice, white walls, white gown, that understanding look.* It irked him, but he shrugged it off. He felt he had to get the story off his chest and be done with it.\n\n''So anyway, I headed to the mall. Got out, grabbed the sports bag, headed out, just completely routine. To the point, you know? Target would enter the sports hall at roughly 3PM every friday. Sounded like an easy job, did it tens off the times. I saw the baseball cap and sweatpants enter. Adjusted my suit jacket, opened the door, nodded to the clerk at the desk, smiled and kept on walking. The women's changing room was to the right. I quickly opened the bag, took out the clipboard and knocked on the door. ''Hello everyone, I'm from the Health department. Please change quickly so I can inspect the showers.'' Easy ploy, never gets questions. So three other women head out a few minutes later, and the target is still in there. I slowly open the door, peak around the door and this..''\n\n''This what?'' the man in white asked. Yet they already knew the answer.\n\n''This guy. I've seen him before, in our HQ. He was a pro too, you know, not bad, but acceptable. But yeah, at that point the only that raced my mind was *''What is he doing here?* but when you run into surprises like that you..you just know. I've been in that spot. Game over. The loud tapping sounds were the last I heard.''\n\nThe man in white folded hands, unraveled them and tapped the tips of his fingers together. He waited.\n\nIt was as a sunrise came to a quick halt on a summer day and dawn set in, as the realization set in the patient's mind. All kinds of emotions raced through him, but mostly surprise and guilt. But then, as if the sunrise slowly crept back into the room, there was acceptance. ''Funny how that was the motto. I always felt like I was above it. That it didn't apply to me. *''Never quit. A lifetime job.''* So, this room, this..everything? This is the end?''\n\nThe man in white shook his head.\n\n''But I'm dead, am I not?''\n\nThe man's head motioned upwards. He replied wisely: ''Dead, yes. But not the end. The afterlife is a new start. Use it.''\n\n---\n\nEric stepped out of his car and his gaze set at the white building at the end of the road. *It's probably going to be an unusual job interview*, he thought. He adjusted his suit, as he would do infinite more times, and aimed for the office. But he did it differently. And at that moment he felt something was off. It just didn't feel right. He stopped, turned around, sat back in his car and drove off.\n",
"Okay. So I had a plan.\n\nThe plan was to book a long, long stay at a hotel on some pretty and remote - emphasis on remote - island, spend a few weeks sipping Mai Tais surrounded by shirtless guys, then gracefully disappear off the face of the earth.\n\nSo I booked a flight to Italy, and another to Sicily, and on my way out of the airport I told the taxi driver I’d give him a grand to find me the most expensive hotel on the island. I even took the time to make myself a fake ID. \n\nDo you know how time consuming it is to make yourself a fake ID? I have *people* for that. In this case, though, I wanted to make sure. I wanted to be absolutely certain that nobody knew of my plan, bar me, obviously.\n\nI had a plan, and like most other plans in my life, it blew up spectacularly.\n\n“Signorina-” hisses the bartender, switching to English when I roll my eyes, “Miss, get into the hotel, it is dangerous!”\n\n“Do you have a gun?” I ask her conversationally, lowering my voice.\n\nWhen she gapes at me, I stifle the urge to roll my eyes again. These people, honestly. You’d think they never got shot at once in their life. “A gun?” I ask again, slightly louder, “Carabina? Moschetto? Pistola?”\n\nShe presses her hand to her mouth, as if in shock. Jesus Christ, I don’t have the patience to deal with this right now. I settle for glaring at her until she responds. “Si,” she says, shaky, “Dietro di te.”\n\nBehind me. Huh.\n\nI had ducked behind the bar as soon as I heard shots fired, with reflexes honed by years of practice, and held my breath until the sound of gunfire died down, the better to hear any approaching footsteps. I’ll be the first to admit it was fairly sloppy, but hey, when a girl hears machine gun fire she shouldn’t be held responsible for her actions.\n\nI carefully rummage behind me, as quietly as possible, ignoring the fluttering breaths of the bartender. If she was going to have a panic attack today she should’ve stayed at home. After a few moments, the tips of my fingers encounter a solid mass, and I draw it out carefully.\n\nJackpot.\n\n“Hey there, beautiful,” I murmur, stroking the stainless steel of the barrel, relishing the way the grip fits into my palm. It’s a Sig, and a pretty one at that. No manual safety, but considering the way I’m planning to use it, it doesn’t really matter.\n\nAt the bartender’s panicked (and slightly judgmental) glance, I shrug. “You’d feel the same way if you knew what this was.”\n\n“P226,” she whispers, “Elite stainless. La mia pistola.”\n\nI feel my eyebrows draw up. “Your gun? Maybe you’ll end up being useful.”\n\n“Signorina-” she starts, but I cut her off. If people are going to be shooting at us, we may as well be on a first name basis. It's not like the people who know my name usually live to describe me.\n\n“Lydia.” \n\nShe stares at me, confused. “Lydia,” I repeat, pointing at myself with the hand not currently holding a gun. “Sono Lydia.”\n\n“Beatrice,” she says, after a moment, drawing the syllables out. Be-at-ri-chay. \n\n“Nice to meet you, Beatrice.” I murmur, quirking a smile at the absurdity of the situation. “Now, do you know how many people there are?”\n\nBeatrice swallows hard. “Three,” she says. “Four, maybe. One was on the roof, I think, but I heard... falling.”\n\n“And how many rounds does this little beauty have?”\n\nHer brow furrows. “Ten, but-”\n\n“Brilliant,” I say, and in one fluid move I rise to my feet.\n\nThere’s two at my 11, one at my 12, and another at my 3, quite a bit further away. Huh. I guess Beatrice isn’t completely inept.\n\nThey’re going to turn the moment they hear gunfire, obviously, so I skip over the three closest to me and take my time aiming for the fourth. I mean, I’d hit even if I didn’t, but time and experience have taught me that pistol rounds are a valuable commodity. When I take a shot, I go for a kill shot.\n\nI breathe in, then out, then in again, and in the space between breaths I pull the trigger straight back, automatically adjusting for recoil. I jerk my body around, keeping my shoulders steady, my left leg forward, and pull the trigger a second time.\n\nThe Sig is well cared for. I’ll have to thank Beatrice for that later.\n\nThe other two gunmen have only just started reacting. Sloppy, sloppy. If this was a few weeks ago, I’d probably have hunted their boss down and put a bullet through their head as a lesson, but as of now I’m out of the business. \n\nWell, I tried to stay out of the business. Look how well that’s turned out.\n\nI fire again, and again, and finally let myself breathe out, keeping the gun up as I survey the damage.\n\nThere’s blood. Quite a lot of it, actually. Most of the other tourists didn’t fare quite as well as Beatrice and me, as evidenced by the violent crimson splattered across the sand. Some of them are still moving, though. Unprofessional.\n\n“Do you have a phone on you?” I ask Beatrice.\n\nShe stares at me, the whites of her eyes stark against her tan complexion. I wish I was that tan. Freckles are so annoying. “Mio dio,” she whispers, and I shake my head in frustration.\n\n“Do you have a phone to call an ambulance, or do I need to check some pockets?” I demand, and that seems to spur her into action, pulling a mobile from her pocket and dialing with trembling fingers. \n\n“Salve,” she says, voice shaking. “Mi chiamo Beatrice Mancuso-”\n\nI tune her out, hoisting myself over the bar to inspect the gunmen. At first glance, they look like simple civilians, but every killer for hire worth her salt knows to check for tattoos, and I find identification fairly quickly.\n\n“Beatrice!” I call, when she’s finally finished doing whatever she’s doing on the phone. “I need a car.”\n\n“Lydia-” she starts, shaking her head, “Non posso-”\n\nI turn the gun on her, and she stumbles backwards, immediately raising her hands. “I need a car,” I say again. It’s not a request.\n\nHer throat works for a moment before she speaks. “Perche?”\n\nI jerk my head towards the fallen gunmen. “These guys are from the Sicilian Mafia. I’ve dealt with them before, but I see they still haven’t learnt their lesson.\n\nOkay. So I had a plan. And now the plan has changed. \n\nI guess I can wait for another month. Make another fake ID, maybe an Irish one this time, to explain away my red hair and pale skin. Book a flight to Thailand.\n\nPeople have accused me of many things, but never of being kind."
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[WP] Our eyes see souls when we look at others, instead of bodies. Describe the day you fell in love.
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"I never thought I’d fall for someone like Sara. She’s not my “type”. Usually, I find myself drawn to those glowing sapphire blue souls that are known for being so creative and artistic. I loved how they wrote poems and songs to woo me. But there was something so special about Sara. \n\nThe moment I saw her, I couldn’t be sure if she was a person or just a fantastic refraction of light. As she walked down the street I stared, concentrating so deeply to make out her pale aura. As I focused longer, her light reached deeper into my eyes and I saw her so clearly. Her golden-white soul shimmered like a beam of sunshine that shone on it’s own. She was her own little star. \n\nI had to speak to her. I instantly loved that angelic light and I wanted to be a part of it. I wanted to adore her. I wouldn’t normally approach a stranger, but her hold on me was undeniable. There was no fighting it.\n\nI stammered my pick-up line.\n\n“Uh… Hello, I don’t want to freak you out or anything, but I was just watching you, and I wanted to tell you that you have the most amazing aura I’ve ever seen.”\n\n“Thank you,” She said softly, serenely.\n\nI was so surprised when I heard her voice. I didn’t know she was a woman. I’d never been attracted to a woman before.\n\n“What’s your name?” She glowed more brilliantly as she spoke to me.\n\n“Carrie.” I felt my soul stir and brighten under her focus.\n\n“You’re beautiful, too. Orange has always been my favorite color.”\n\nShe reached out to touch me and found a lock of my hair. It slipped through her fingers and I knew from the way she glowed that she was smiling.\n\nSome people say that orange souls are happiest with other bright colors like red or blue, but Sara and I shared a lifetime of love and joy. For years, I went to bed and woke up with sunshine wrapped around me.\n",
"Most everyone in my school looked the same. An endless sea of grey, and other uninteresting colors. There were a few that you could tell had passion. The passionate ones were usually a bright red. They were few and far between though. \nMany adults, however, were different. They weren't just one color, but a myriad of colors. Different emotions, and colors swirling together to create the symphony that is a conjoined soul. When people found true love their souls mixed, creating new colors for the outside world to view.\nNobody in my school had found real love, hence the muddled sea of grey. Sure they had their flings, and puppy love. None of it was real though. I was no exception. A few girlfriends, but nothing i could tell was lasting. They say you can tell who your soul mate was when you first see them, but most think that is just fairytale nonsense.\nI used to believe it too, until one day someone changed my mind. More than my mind. She changed my soul. \nThe day began just as any other school day had. i went through several of my classes with nothing eventful(other than a pop quiz in english). But during fifth period i saw someone new walk through the door. She was different, special, and very colorful. \nInstead of gray, she hosted an untold number of colors. Goldenrod that seemed to carve valleys and hills, crimson reds that the setting sun would envy. There were so many colors i didnt even know names for half of them. \nShe saw me, and something happened. Almost like fireworks, an explosion of light overtook me. From the look she gave she felt it too.\nShe made her way to the empty seat next to me and sat down.\n\"Hi I'm Renee.\"\n\n\n",
"I've always hated how I look. I know why people don't talk to me. This ugly, charred, starved-looking soul of mine is hard to ignore. At least my soul has gotten me somewhere in life. I handle deals for a well known *italian* fellow, if you catch my drift. He's a real nasty looking fucker, too. I run money for him, bring in the drugs, hand out the guns. It isn't hard, when you've lost your morals like me. \n\nI've gotten used to this kind of life- the empty studio apartment, the black beater of a car, the late nights driving around the city. It's easy to avoid the stares with this job. Tonight, I'm stationed on the street corner, patiently awaiting a drop. The traffic is slow, steady. I lean back against the wall and pull out a cigarette.\n\n\"Got a light?\"\n\nI look up, a little stunned. Before me is a goddess of a soul. She's all golden, full of light, fading to a crisp orange around the edges. She looks so healthy, so happy. Why doesn't she run from me? I hand her my lighter.\n\n\"You must be Roy.\" She sets a backpack at my feet.\n\n\"Yeah,\" I stammer. How can she work for him? She's not dark like the rest of us, not corrupted. I hand her the money.\n\n\"You're not what I pictured,\" she says, dragging on her cigarette. \"You look too happy for a job like this.\"\n\n\"What?\" I glance at my reflection in the window across the street. I look the same, a black skeleton of a man. But then I see it. A faint glimmer, an ember of red passion flickering through me. This isn't me. \"Listen, I ain't what you think I am. Don't get any ideas here.\" The red faded away with a wisp of smoke. \n\n\"Really?\" She presses, her voice sounds like silk. \"Because you don't look so bad to me.\" My soul glowed again, brighter this time, as white as hope. There was no hiding it from her. \"Tell you what, Roy. If you ever feel like dinner, why don't you call me?\" She slipped me her number, flushing pink with nerves for a brief moment. She turned, and walked away from me, into the night of the city. \n\n\"Wait!\" I called after her. She stopped. \"What's your name?\"\n\n\"Grace.\""
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[WP] You find among your belongings, a literal skeleton key. A device which upon contact with anyone other than yourselves, tears the bones from their flesh. Write a story with yourself as a supervillan, and just how you use this nefarious weapon
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"Gray looked down at the pearl-white bones arranged in the shape of a person sleeping on the floor, aware of the eyes of his team trained on him, and said one word. \"Impressive.\" \n\nHe noticed two of his newest group trade looks. The seasoned detective didn't bother learning their names. Every team he'd been a part of had seen him solve horrid murders, and they knew he enjoyed it. Gray never tried to hide his enthusiasm, but that didn't stop it from bothering the other detectives. The words of his first partner still rang in his mind some nights: *You're just like them. A monster*. Gray recalled his response, sipping whiskey from a coffee cup at the time. *Rather the monster fight* for *you than against you.* \n\n\"Impressive?\" One of the younger detectives asked. In total, the team consisted of four, well five, but it would be four soon enough. Gray found that any team over two was simply wasting the other members. \n\n\"The bones,\" Gray looked the smooth items over. \"To take the flesh off of them, you would need to detach them from one another, but the UnSub managed to re-attach them, perfectly, from the looks of it.\" \n\nHe leaned down, aware of the lack of smell. A small silver object stuck from underneath the right knee. Gray narrowed his eyes and pulled out a glove from his back pocket. Carefully, he grabbed the object in it and brought it up, sparing a glance to see his team speaking to the witnesses. He turned his eyes back to the silver and froze. \n\nIt was a key. He recognized it. The Skeleton Key. \n\nThe key said to have been crafted by the Devil himself. The key that burned the flesh clean off anyone foolish enough to touch skin on its smooth metal. The key that Gray once owned and lost. \n\n\"Holy shit.\" Gray muttered. He quickly forced the object into his pocket, aware that none of his team had seen him. So many years spent searching for the key, after having it stolen decades before, years spent in vain. Now, it just happens that he was assigned to the case where the victim touched the damn thing? \n\nGray looked up. Maybe something *was* watching out for him after all. He quickly realized his mistake and looked down, smiling. ",
"A trickle of cool water ran down Jack's chin as he wiped his face of the aftermath of his post-shave facewash. He dropped the damp white towel on the counter and finished his new morning ritual. Jack swabbed his small ears, brushed his sharp yellow teeth, and combed his thin black hair back. He pulled the necessary tools for his routine from a black plastic trashbag next to the sink. Jack had done all of these things before, but usually only out of dire necessity and *never* all in the same day. Turning his narrow shoulders to look at the shower to his right, Jack contemplated a good scrub. With a wave of his hand and a snicker, Jack turned back as he realized that the old, unused shower would probably spew dirty decade-old water. His eyes rose to the face reflected in the mirror. Staring at the crooked nose, Jack felt uncomfortable with the prospect of making eye contact with the clean, well groomed person in front of him. He gradually worked up the courage to look himself in eye for the first time in fifteen years. His cold blue eyes were unfamiliar to him. This was a good thing, because Jack was a new man today.\n\nJack carried his bag out into a filthy, narrow concrete hallway periodically lit by a single flickering fluorescent light bulb. A series of fifteen doors covered in cracked white paint stood three feet apart from each other ahead of him. He swiftly walked to the fourteenth door and turned the corroded round knob to open it. The stench that flew out at him was horrendous and might attract attention, so he quickly entered the room and closed the door behind him. The tiny cell that he had called home for too long had just enough space for a small bed. A digital clock hung on one of the black walls, reading 3:28am. The usual crowd of mice was absent today. Occupying the space at the foot of the bed were four black bags similar to the one in Jack's hand, though all noticeably fuller. Carefully avoiding the large bags, Jack removed his black shoes, socks, trousers, and sweater and stowed them in the sliver of space beside the bed. He laid down, curling his long legs to prevent his feet from hanging off. At 4:00am, Jack would complete his responsibility to the home and remove the garbage. This left Jack 30 minutes to lie in the room and think.\n\nJack thought of the past. He thought of the first time he injected brauga into his veins. Nothing before that moment mattered enough to warrant reflection. He had no memory of the brutality of his need to feed his addiction and the dumpster he soon occupied for over a year, but heard stories from his brothers. He remembered waking up in the home, bound tightly to the same bed he was sitting in. Jack remembered every moment of the next few weeks, but did not want to think of them. He remembered being freed by his brothers after the withdrawals stopped.\n\nJack thought of his new life and his new role in the home. He had purpose, and he was safe. The father protected him and his brothers. He had never met the father, for the father only communicated through hand written letters. Jack had several stacks composed of the letters the father had written to him stored underneath the bed, along with several rolls of black trash bags and a second set of clothing. He remembered how he felt the first time he read the beautiful handwriting on the parchment paper that told him that he now had a home and brothers. Jack never left the home, except to dispose of trash. Sometimes, the trash was human.\n\nThe home was located in the middle of a large plot of land. A quarter-mile dirt path stemming off of a small gravel road was the only access point. Jack would carry trash down the path and walk a mile down the gravel road to dispose of trash in a dumpster that belonged to an old retired nurse. As far as Jack knew, the woman never knew that he used her dumpster because they brought the trash while she was asleep within an hour before the arrival of the dumptruck. A few years ago, Jack developed the habit of sifting through the woman’s trash. Every now and then he would find something useful - a bobby pin to bring back for Homer or a kitchen knife to bring Jude. Jack loved bringing gifts back to his brothers, but nothing was better than giving a gift to the father. The best of gifts was saved for the father, such as broken jewelry, beautiful garments, and electronics. On such occasions, Jack would leave the gift on a lonely table in the small parlor outside of the father’s quarters, which were always locked, on the second floor of the house. Jack would return a day later and find a hand written thank-you note on the table in place of the gift. Jack thought of the gold embroidered shirt, which made the father very happy.\n\nJack looked up at the clock. It was time to leave. He dressed and squatted down to lift the four big black bags at the foot of his bed. As he lifted the bags a grunt escaped his mouth and a chorus of *squishes* escaped the bags. Jack knew that he had a long walk ahead of him. He awkwardly opened the door and shimmied out, softly closing it behind him. Nobody was awake at the time. This was for the best, but it made Jack sad because he knew he would not see his brothers again. Jack walked to the fifteenth door, and exited the home.\n\nThe wet morning air lessened the stench upon Jack’s nostrils. Jack walked past the two trashbags and down the path to the gravel road. Jack reflected on his actions. One day, Jack found a rusty, heavy key in the dumpster. It was a very simple key and likely didn’t fit anything. However, it was a cold morning that he found it and the key was very warm. Jack brought it home and put it under the bed, still unsure of what to do with it. Jack left to speak to Jude and returned to find a floppy corpse of a mouse splayed over the handle of the key. Jack had picked up the corpse and started, for it seemed to be completely devoid of bones. Startled, Jack left the key wrapped in a sock for a week before getting an idea. The next day, Jack went outside to the chicken coop with the key. He threw the key at a chicken and it slumped over into a watery jumble as soon as the key struck it.\n\nJack reached the gravel road. The father was the most important person in Jack’s life, for the father created a home for Jack and other lost people to live and thrive. For many years, Jack had hoped to one day be able to help people in the same way. Jack had many plans for the home, and was ready to take on a greater responsibility than “trash-bearer.” Jack had spent the past month practicing his handwriting, and could at this point mimic the father’s almost perfectly. As Jack drew near to the dumpster, a sense of leadership spilled over him. He approached the dumpster and opened it. He hauled the trashbags into the dumpster one by one. The final bag caught on the corner of the dumpster and tore open. Jack quickly addressed the issue and looked down into the dumpster for the last time. The tear in the bag revealed a bloody gold embroidered shirt. Jack closed the dumpster and walked home.\n\nUpon his arrival, Jack walked to the back of the building and used the stairs to get to his new quarters. He entered the parlor and reached into his pocket to pull out the smaller of two keys. He grabbed a note off the table, written in his own handwriting, and read it.\n\n*I have brought you a gift, father. Though it may look old, it is the key to the future.*\n\nJack stuffed the note in his pocket and unlocked the door.\n"
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[WP] A woman buys a dildo and finds that it is possessed by a malevolent supernatural presence. NSFW
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"The black dildo seemed to call out to Susan in the store, and her heart fluttered when she picked it up. Electricity went through her body and her nipples stiffened embarassingly. Moisture accumulated in her panties, and something compelled her to use it right there in the store. It took a lot of willpower to not hike up her skirt, pull her damp panties to the side and fuck herself in the porn store.\n\nAs she took it to check to pay for it, the cashier seemed sketchy about selling it. Almost as if she'd wanted to keep it. Somehow, the cashier's energy was familiar. Susan didn't even know what it meant to have her energy feel familiar, but that was the best way to describe the sensation.\n\nPink fingernails wrapped around the plastic cock as the cashier picked it up to put it in the bag. She froze as soon as she touched it, and she seemed to be fighting something in her head. Her fingers tightened, and Susan's eyes were lead up her arm and to her left breast where her nametag was. \"Becky, you alright?\"\n\nBecky could only let out a sigh as she gripped the phallic toy. Her breathing became deeper and she shook her head. Suddenly, she placed the dildo in an opaque brown paper bag. It crinkled as she forced it shut. \"I'm sorry about that.\"\n\nBecky was nearly panting as she pushed the bag toward Susan. Desire was in her brown eyes, and the outlines of her nipples were visible through her thin shirt. Susan smiled. \"Want to take it in the back and use it on each other?\"\n\nBecky quietly nodded and led Susan to the back of the store, past a door marked \"Employees Only\".",
"Ian stared at the tool in his hand. He has never came in contact with such a object, only heard of the rumors of its existence. Despite being raised in a Catholic family, Ian's mouth watered the longer he looked at the bulk in his hand. Finally, Ian could no longer wait. He put both hands on the handle as if he is wielding a sword, and rammed the gadget into his behind with full force. \n\nAs the utensil penetrated Ian, he let out a gasp of pleasure. At long last, he can finally confirm the accuracy of these rumors. A smile broke through his stiff face, and like a construction worker, continues to hammer his insides. Water and blood began to flow out, but Ian doesn't care. He did not cease clobbering himself. However after an hour or so, Ian started to feel more than joy. The appliance did not stop at the rectum, but kept digging. The device of bliss quickly turned into a means of torture. It was as if the dildo itself had teeth, as it buried itself within Ian's body. Soon, the handle followed it way into his asshole. "
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[WP] Russia is the country to successfully terraform Mars and now owns the planet. With all it's resources, it becomes the most powerful country on Earth.
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"You know, we never really believed that there was such thing as Irony Gods. Not until the Russians took Mars. The Red Planet, owned by the reds. Nobody could have guessed that. It's just too ironic. That's when it got worse. They found oil on Mars. They proved Martian life, and then proceeded to use it to become the most powerful nation in the world, sorry, worlds. They started mining it, for all sorts of minerals. We tried to foster rebellion amongst the slave labor, but the Russians brutally put down every rebellion. We thought the treaty that nobody could claim exterrestrial lands as their own would help, but we were fools. The Russians got there first, and what were we going to do? We were helpless.\n\nThey terraformed Mars, and turned it into an oasis in space. They used it to become the worlds' biggest farm. They were able to dominate every industry by having the most materials and the most land. Nothing we did mattered, because they had a planet. Over time, they forcibly relocated their entire nation to Mars. It was the Red Planet in more ways than one. We should have seen the signs, we should have prepared. We should have expected what came next. The nukes were completely unexpected. Who would expect that? They bombed us, bombed everything. They destroyed the entire planet, because they didn't need it anymore. I guess one day, when we're all dead along with the Earth, they'll come back and terraform it back to how it was. They made their Ark, and now, they were Noah.",
"\"I beg you to reconsider,\" the commander general pleaded.\n\nThe president looked at the screen, his expression serious. \"You know those actors that were famous since they were children? They grow up thinking that they can have anything they want. They have no sense of sharing. No sense of community. They believe that they are entitled to everything they want, but unfortunately the world does not work like that. They begin to realize that other people also want things that they want and they can't accept that, so they turn out self centered, arrogant, spoilt, and just an overbearing asshole. \n\nThis is your country. Since the independence of the USA from England you felt that you are entitled to everything. America, the best country in the world. America where dreams come true. America, where we do everything for ourselves. It came as no surprise to us the sudden deterioration of your society. You can't raise expectations so high that it is unobtainable, one has to be realistic. The rest of us realized long ago that we are in this world together. That we must work as one, not for the betterment of one person or one country, but for the ensured existence of humanity. You see it is a state of mind, a way of thinking not about yourself, but of the community as a whole. I am sure if we let you come colonize Mars with us, it will not be long before you charge us tax to breath the air. That is why the rest of the human population have made the decision to not allow you to come here, but to let you have earth. We do not want a drop of oil spoiling our new ocean. \n\nI am sorry. Good luck.\"\n"
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[WP] All your life, you've been finding small cuts or bruises on your body with no explanation. Today, you find out what's causing them.
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"A man at the park has been staring at me for an alarmingly long time. I try to look away, and look back, hoping that he moves on from his infatuation with me, but he only moves closer. Before I know it, he his standing next to me. I nod, awkwardly. He continues staring.\n\n\"Can I help you?\" I inquire.\n\n\"I know what you are.\" he replies.\n\n\"What?\" I ask, genuinely confused by his statement.\n\n\"The memories. The bruises.\" He pauses. \"I have them too.\"\n\nMy eyes widen and I am rendered without speech. Is he serious? Is he saying what I think he's saying?\n\nThe man continues. \"I know about the ring. The one you didn't buy.\"\n\nI stand there in disbelief, jaw agape. I never told anyone about the ring.\n\nBefore I continue, let me bring you up to speed. My memory is fragmented. It's not like I remember only bits and pieces. It's not even that I forget bits and pieces. In fact, I can recall and recite every card in a 52-card deck like it's nothing. My problem is that I remember things that never actually happened. I guess that makes it sound more \"faulty\" than \"fragmented,\" but it's not. It's difficult to explain, so let me give you an example. \n\nLast Thursday, around 11 PM, I was watching a movie with my girlfriend, Ashley. I got up to grab some popcorn from the kitchen. Next thing I know, I wake up alone in my bed at 7 AM the next morning. I called Ashley to find out what had happened. According to her, she was here last night, but left around 10 PM because she had to wake up early for work the next day. Weird, right?\n\nWhat's weirder, still is that whenever this happens, I'll wake up with small cuts and bruises all over my body. I'll have no recollection of how they got there and how *I* got there, but during the course of the day -- often as I'm piecing together information from the people who I can remember contacting last -- the memories from the previous night slowly begin to congeal into a vivid picture in my mind, and everything returns. But despite all this, the \"false\" memories are there, too, lingering in my mind like an alternate account of events.\n\nI've tried to get it diagnosed -- both the memory problems and the cuts. But the doctors can't seem to find anything wrong. In fact, the cuts and bruises heal in a matter of seconds. I've tried to take pictures of them, but that just makes them heal even faster. I've refrained from pushing the issue, for fear of being committed to an insane asylum. That's why I've tried to keep it a secret from friends and family.\n\nI wouldn't blame them if they thought I was crazy. For a time, even I thought I was. I thought that the memories and injuries were all figments of my imagination. What changed my mind was the morning that I woke up a with diamond ring in my hand from a nearby jewelry store that I apparently didn't go to. \n\nI had been thinking about proposing to my girlfriend for some time. One night, I walked into Tiffany's Jewelers and picked out a ring. On my way to my car, I blacked out, and woke up the next day holding the bag from Tiffany's with the ring inside. I found out later that day that Tiffany's had been closed the previous evening due to a robbery earlier in the day. My credit card history showed that I made no large purchases that night. I couldn't have bought the ring there, but the receipt in the bag said otherwise.\n\nI don't understand the nature of my affliction, if I can call it that, but I've lived the rest of my life since that night with the conviction that my experiences are real. Today, I was given further affirmation of that, when I learned that there are others like me. I listen intently and with bated breath for the man at the park to give me an explanation.\n\nFinally, the words escape his mouth. \"I'm a timeline jumper, too.\"",
"I awoke in bed on a cold Saturday morning in January. I felt the familiar tingle I've felt oh so many times before coming from my leg. I shook the covers off my body and glanced down at my right leg to see a cluster of small, red scratches each no bigger than a staple. I opened my mouth wide and let out a hearty yawn, stretching my arms out over my head. \"Where do these keep coming from?\" I thought to myself. I climbed out of my bed and walked out of my small room into the bathroom across the hall. I turned on the shower and waited until the water was warm enough, and slid my gray pajama bottoms off. I quickly hopped into the shower and felt the warm water on my skin. I grabbed the brown bottle of body wash and covered my body with it, only to feel a prickly pain on my right leg where the cuts where. I quickly rubbed the soap in and rinsed it off with the shower water. I shampooed my short brown hair and stepped out of the shower, drying off with a small white towel. I threw some black sweatpants and a red t-shirt on. I walked down the carpeted stairs and walked into the kitchen to see my mom making breakfast.\n\n\n\"What are you making?\" I asked my mom, as she stood over the oven. \n\"Pancakes!\" She replied enthusiastically. I glanced over shoulder to see a row of small brown pancakes frying on a large rectangular skillet. She turned to me and pointed at me with the black spatula she was holding. \"Hey Eric, could you do me a favor and get the sheet from your bed? I'm doing laundry today.\" She asked. I nodded to her and walked back upstairs. I jogged back upstairs, eager to eat some of my mom's delicious home made pancakes after doing this small chore. I quickly ripped my sheet off my bed, but when end of the large blue sheet was stuck underneath the bed. I bent down to grab it out, when some movement caught my eye. It was too dark to see anything, so I grabbed out the small camouflage flashlight I keep on my nightstand. I clicked the small black button on it to turn it on. Light filled the crevice underneath my bed. \n\n\nUnderneath my small bed, I saw what looked to be dozens of small faces. I squinted my eyes, and realized I was face to face with what looked like about 50 tan skinned Native American warriors, each covered in war paint and leather clothing. The warriors were about the size of a quarter, and were holding a spear or small dagger. \"What the-\" I thought to myself, but my thought was quickly interrupted when the warriors charged me, running at a laughably slow pace. With their spears and daggers aimed at me, I tried to run away, but tripped on my garbage small red garbage can laying on the floor next to my bed. The miniature warriors climbed onto my body and thrust their miniature weapons into the back of my legs. The constant poking with their weapons felt like getting bit by 100 mosquitoes over and over again. I flinched in pain and kicked them off of me, running back downstairs. \n\n\nI ran through the kitchen and into my garage. I flipped the small white light switch and sprinted across the cold, wet, cement garage, hurdling over my dad's new white car. I grabbed a can of insect repellent, determined to put a stop to these tiny tyrants. I sprinted back upstairs, past my bewildered mother.\nI shook the large black can, and went back to where the miniature marauders were hiding; underneath my bed. With a slight grin on my face, I blasted them with the high-deet insect repellant, watching them cough and sputter. I continued the chemical warfare until all of them were laying dead on my plain white carpet, now splotched red with the blood of my enemies. I grabbed a small dustpan and broom and swept them up. I carried the pile of dead bodies and dropped them into the trash compacter next in the sink next to my mom. \n\n\"What was that?\" My mom asked me, confused.\n\n\"Justice. Sweet, sweet justice.\" I replied smugly.",
"There seemed nothing out of the ordinary about a child of six sporting little cuts and bruises at first. All children of that age fall over, scrape their knees and bump into chairs and tables. As a particularly clumsy and forgetful child, I'd often have no idea how I got them - I'd just assume that I'd fallen over or scratched open a scab in my sleep. It wasn't important. \nCertainly my foster parents complained about it, but they were older and fairly well off, so we could afford the plethora of ointments, band-aids and salves required to treat my constant, low-grade injuries. \nOr at least we could at first. \nI was eight when I woke in terrible pain, screaming the house down and falling out of bed, clutching my arm. \nMy foster father rushed in and saw me on the floor, holding my arm at an unnatural angle. His quick, deft fingers located the break and carefully wrapped it immobile in a sheet and he carried me to the car where my foster mother drove us to the hospital. \nThey all assumed I was dreaming, that I'd fallen out of bed and broken it - but I was *certain* that I'd woken up in pain, *then* fallen out of bed. They didn't believe me though; and after a few weeks I admit I didn't trust the memory myself. \nStill, I got a cast out of it and was briefly more popular at school. \nRegular visits to the doctor were a chore, but they needed to monitor me in case I had brittle bones or some other outlandish condition that caused my arm to break so easily. \n\n&nbsp; \nAs I grew older and more coordinated, the random injuries grew fewer. \nSport, it turned out, was something I was naturally gifted at - which surprised me the most - so there were always minor injuries from playing rugby, running and tennis. By the time I was twelve, I could outrun every boy in my class easily and was the tallest girl for my age that the doctor had ever seen . \nHe speculated that I may have 'Marfan Syndrome', due to my unaccountable breakage and my strange height. Not knowing who my birth parents were made it impossible to find a family history of it, but my long, graceful digits and fallen arches were classic pointers to having Marfan Syndrome. \nDespite not training very hard, I was muscular, lean and tough. I ate excessively but never gained any real weight. \nMy parents - who had now formally adopted me - joked that I had hollow legs and that's where all the food went. \nOn the morning after my fourteenth birthday I woke up with a searing pain in one of those legs and wetness in the sheets. \nHauling back the sheets I saw in horror a long gash the length of my thigh, profusing with wine-coloured blood that had splattered the sheets like a child had spilled a glass of cranberry. \nYelling for my father, the scene repeated from my childhood and we soon sat in Accident and Emergency, a slowly staining towel tightly wound around my thigh. \nTwo hours and twenty five stitches later, the A&E doctor sent me home with a crutch to keep my weight off the leg and a box of painkillers and antibiotics.\n\n&nbsp; \nMy father installed a security system in out house the next day.\nThere was no explaining the injury and the only way it could have happened was if someone broke in and slashed my leg while I was asleep. The doctor said that the wound was straight and clean; the kind of wound only a sharp bladed weapon - like a knife - would make. \nWe speculated that it was a jealous rival at school, or the parent of another child, but we simply couldn't find any evidence. \nWhat disturbed me most though, was that I was continuing to sport bruises and scrapes even though I was currently off sports while my leg healed. \nI decided to keep that to myself, so as not to worry dad. \nEventually the wound healed and it was business as usual again - getting thumped around the field by the other girls playing rugby and taking tennis balls to the torso. I couldn't tell the 'real' bruises from the ones of unknown origin any more. \nCuriously, my tennis game began to fail. My grip on the racket became warped and wrong. No matter how much I corrected it during the game, *habit* would make it slip back into a peculiar grip. Disgusted with myself, I stuck to football and track-and-field. \n\n&nbsp; \nA series of nocturnal sprained wrists and twisted knees had me back at the doctor over the next year and he shrugged his shoulders, defeated. \nHe called my condition 'somnnonambulatory costochondritis' and during a sleep study showed that I thrashed about a lot in my sleep and apparently gave myself these injuries. \nThat still didn't explain the knife injury, but he suspected that I sleepwalked on rare occasions. \nI was lucky, he said, that I was so fit and healthy because it meant I recovered from the injuries very quickly. \nThe thought of being restrained during sleep was broached, but I refused. The idea of being strapped down in bed terrified me - as it would most people - so instead I was prescribed a mild tranquilliser and muscle relaxant. \nThat turned out to be a mistake. \nWithin a week of taking the pills my somnnonambulatory injuries got *worse* and I had to go off the pills. \nCuriously, they got much better after that and I barely sustained a single nocturnal bruise over the next year.\n\n&nbsp; \nMoving away from my parents to go to university was hard - harder than I imagined. \nWhen I was a kid they were just my foster parents, but they had become my *real* parents with their love and devotion. I couldn't have asked for better if I had a lineup of millions of parents to choose from. \nThey were still worried about my somnnonambulatory costochondritis, but I was moving into a flat with two other girls, so I was going to be fine. If I injured myself badly the heart monitor bracelet would send an alarm to my smartphone and it would start squealing for help. \nI kissed them goodbye, got in my hatchback and drove off to the new flat. \nEverything was fine for three weeks. I loved my course work - Bachelor of Sport and Exercise, of course - and I loved Uni life. \nBut the morning finally came where I woke up to my phone screaming a panicked alarm at full volume and blood pissing out of my face and arms before my blood pressure dropped to critical and I lost consciousness. \n\n&nbsp; \nThere was no point, the doctors decided, in ever releasing me. \nAfter they'd treated the initial injuries, more kept appearing under the bandages and casts. My body was a battlefield of constantly healing and new injuries of varying severity. It would stop for a week, then start up again for no reason and without warning. They couldn't treat me with painkillers or sedatives as that made things worse. \nIn my constantly pain soaked state I would doze fitfully and fragments of *something* would echo in my dreams. Yells of fear, pain and triumph. \nDisturbed, I fought for clarity but they continued to grow more persistent. \nAfter a year in the critical care ward, we were no closer to an answer and I was starting to go mad. \nDoctors prodded me and tested me, trying to find the cause. Practically immobilised now, it defied reality that the injuries kept appearing. \nThe dreams grew worse as my sanity slipped; I dreamed of endless battles, everything about them indistinct except the blood, the fear, the death and the surge of *victory*. \nAnd it all started to make sense. \nFocusing on the memory of the dream I *willed* myself to sleep, determined to prove my hypothesis. \n\n&nbsp; \n*A horse galloped under me and I led a charge of heavy cavalry into the ranks of the enemy, breaking them and milling them under. \nDeath was all around me but I laughed, my face in the famous rictus of the the Blood Princess. The swords in each hand lashed out, licked open bright gashes in my enemies and I guided my warhorse with my knees - his brightly shod hooves now dark with blood and brains as he kicked and pawed at the enemy - just as destructive as his rider. \nOnce we had crushed the Hustian army we would ride over the mountains and sack their cities, for the glory of the Empire. \nI was an unstoppable force; billions of dead to my name - of all the races; delk, sark, mithen, drak, ilk. \nImmortal and cruel, the Elshen people would conquer Smite and rule it for all eternity - the lesser races our slaves, crushed by the Eshen Emperor's unstoppable daughter* \n&nbsp; \n\n----------------\n\n&nbsp; \nEllie's parents wept over her hospital bed. \nThe doctors called it the 'natural conclusion' to her rare and improbable condition - total heart failure and massive internal bleeding. \nIt didn't make it any easier though; their daughter had been kind, compassionate, loving and gentle - the kind of daughter every parent would be proud to have. \nExcusing themselves from the grieving parents, the doctor and attending nurses left them with the scarred and tormented body of their daughter, still utterly baffled by the utterly incomprehensible condition and its horrific effects.\n\n\n"
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[WP] You are an astronaut abandoned by your space program and about to die.
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"Coleman slammed his fist against the control panel. \n\n\"Hey!\" Calloway said. You could hear the stress in his voice. \"Punching shit won't get us outta here. We need to stay calm an-\"\n\n\"Who gives a shit about that now?! There's no point in denying it. We all know what happened. How the decoupler jammed the gimbal? How the throttle got stuck when we tried to reset the gimbal? That fuel tank had enough Δv in it to get us to Mars and back. And we shot all that out in one go out into the middle of fucking nowhere!\" The sounds of desperation had left Coleman's voice long ago. Now it was filled with rage.\n\n\"Dammit Wellbourne, you're the scientist here, you know how hopeless it is for us. You know that better than anybody else.\" \n\nBoth Coleman and Calloway were looking at me. I had been silent for a while after the fuel had run out. \n\nI managed to find my voice, \"We still have the fuel for the lander, and we also have the fuel for the emergency ascent module. I...I need to do the math, but if we get it all rigged together, we might be able to perform some sort of maneuver or plane change, get close to something you know? Use gravity the rest of the way?\"\n\n\"What the hell are we gonna get close too?\" Coleman grumbled, \"We are stranded in space. Fucking space. you do know what space is right? It's nothing. A bunch of fucking *nothing*!\"\n\n\"There is always a chance. Plus we don't need much, just something to give us a push in the right direction.\" I opened the terminal, pulling up our plotted course, looking for any encounters, seeing how close we would get to any orbiting bodies.\n\n\"There!\" I said, pointing at the screen. \"We'll come a couple hundred thousand miles away from Jupiter's sphere of influence. We have more than enough Δv to make that maneuver. We get in, play some orbital Plinko with a few moons, and catch a low altitude sling shot back to earth.\" Calloway's eyes lit up.\n\n\"Yeah but what about the transfer time?\" Coleman said in a scathing tone. We don't have near enough resources to last a trip to Jupiter and back.\" \n\n\"No, but we have the stasis pods. They only last five months at a time, but we can use them multiple times. It'll be hell on our bodies, but it's way better than any other alternatives.\" I felt like I had thought everything out. Coleman sank back into his seat.\n\nI double checked my math, making sure everything added up. Sure enough everything was there. Things got a bit iffy once inside of Jupiter's sphere of influence. Those moons would be difficult to map out. I figured to let that be a \"future us\" problem, and kept quiet.\n\n\"We're gonna have to open up the lander and rearrange some fuel tanks. Coleman, suit up for EVA, Calloway you help him out. I'll sit down and do some more math.\" \n\n\"This is all pointless,\" Coleman said as he went to suit up. \"I should just kick open this door and end all here and now. Thirty seconds is all it'll take.\" There was pure silence. Coleman's eyes shifted quickly back and forth between Calloway and I.\n\n\"I...it was a joke...just a joke okay?\"\n\n\"Calloway, make sure Coleman doesn't do anything rash or stupid. Make sure you some duct tape on you as well.\" I didn't want to take any chances.\n\n\"Alright, let's go make a fucking miracle happen.\"\n\n*Edit: Writing these things on mobile is tough* ",
"One by one, the little lights winked out. The little shimmers and specks, banded together like vibrant neural pathways, flickered and went dark. Seconds before, Rick had watched as tiny flashes, like fireflies, dotted his home. The radio crackled, the sound weak and distorted. He craned his head toward it while keeping his eyes locked to the darkening globe.\n\n“Expedi……..ome in…..tion, come in.”\n\nFumbling at the controls, Rick replied, his voice shaking, “Houston, this is Expedition, over.”\n\nStatic. More static. Rick could hear faint syllables, but nothing intelligible. Finally, as though it were a dying gasp, “...d be with you. We’re………….rry.”\n\nAnd nothing. Part of Rick told him to scream. To press down the transmit button and shout himself hoarse until they replied. But he knew. Knew it would be a futile gesture.\n\nSlowly, he stretched his hand out to the window, watching as the last few fireflies dotted his beautiful, distant world, cleaning up the last little strands and clumps of lights.\n\nAll was dark down there. Dark, cloudy, and still. It seemed to Rick that he could hear the silence. Feel the emptiness. A sense of unbearable solitude began to wash over him.\n\nWithout any conscious effort, he found himself donning his suit, pressurizing it, and making his way to the airlock.\n\nEven as it was, dim and dead, Rick felt himself drawn out the hatch, drifting towards Earth.\n\nAt least he was going home."
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[WP] A deadly parasite develops which has the ability to "steer" human beings, much like parasites that steer insects. It is impossible to tell at a glance if somebody is infected.
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"\"They're like a nematomorpha, only worse,\" Ana told Grant.\n\n\"A nematomorpha?\" \n\nGrant stood up and moved toward the window. He glared out at the smoggy skyline. Cold air condescend on the outside of the chilled glass. \n\n\"Yes, a gordian worm. It's a parasite that can attach itself to an insects brain and steer it toward water,\" Ana explained.\n\n\"Seek water, huh?\" Grant questioned.\n\nAna gripped the armchair with sweaty palms. \n\n\"Yes, they thrive in water. The host essentially drowns itself.\"\n\n\"So what's this media frenzy?\" Grant asked, eyes still locked on the frozen city.\n\n\"They're evolving, Grant. I saw it on the news while you were at work. This is the biggest headline in recent history. I was so worried. I wanted to make sure you were safe,\" Ana mumbled.\n\nThe gray clouds began to release rain. Grant's pupils dilated as the water dripped down the glass. A bead of sweat seeped from his pores. \n\n\"Are we in danger?\" Grant's voice cracked.\n\n\"Mankind is in danger. The CDC is already reporting hundreds of outbreaks. They're infecting humans. They want to feed!\"\n\nGrant's neck twitched as he placed his palm on the glass. Transfixed on the rain, he finally spoke.\n\n\"How do we know if we have it?\"\n\n\"We don't know. The larvae began to breed in the cities tap water. They could be inside of anyone,\" Ana snapped.\n\nSuddenly, Grant's trance broke. He spun around and took a small step toward Ana. She cocked her head and blinked her eyes.\n\n\"Are you alright?\"\n\nHe didn't reply. Instead, he took several more steps forward. His pace quickened as he bolted toward Ana. A sense of worry emerged on her face as she sprung up to brace herself.\n\nGrant shouted, \"We need to secure---\"\n\nA quick slash severed his jugular. Grant stumbled backward and reached for the gaping wound. Ana immediately latched onto Grant's neck. Blood squirted on her face as the two collapsed on the floor. She climbed on top and sealed the leak with her mouth. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she sucked feverishly at the gash. She moaned in pleasure as his blood coursed into her body. \n\nGrant let out a few faint squeaks as he turned pale. His twitching did not last long, and he finally went limp. Ana's heart-rate increased as she shook violently. Finally, her mouth became unattached from Grant's neck. A rash of bursted blood vessels had formed around her lips. A gurgling sound echoed through the silent apartment. Ana wretched over Grant's corpse. The small black worm peeked out behind her tongue. She continued to gag as the parasite wiggled it's way to the roof of her mouth. It wrapped itself around her tooth and slithered up her throat. She convulsed as the worm made its way out of her mouth. Finally free, the worm wriggled in the puddle of blood."
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[WP] what happens when the quiet kid snaps?
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"It was a post-nap time afternoon like any other in Ms. K's kindergarten classroom. She called the children to gather around the community desks where a turkey themed finger painting activity was prepped to go. Each seat had a container of the paints and a few pieces of construction paper lined up neatly in front, one for each child. \n\nDavid usually didn't interact much with the other kids, let alone talk to them often. The others were taking their time getting to the painting stations, playing, chatting, poking the class hamster Mr. Chippybottoms. Little David, minding his own business as usual, went obediently to a chair on the far end, as not to force himself into two neighbors. Awaiting further instruction, he started inspecting and poking the paint. His index finger first dabbed into the black, then adding a dark smear of residual into the red. \n \nAs David started swirling the red and black, Cassandra took a seat next to him. It wasn't that she wanted to, but rather didn't really notice him. She was too engaged bragging about her new light-up princess shoes to her best friend Kelsey. Anyone within a 10 foot radius would have quickly picked up on how red was her favorite color because \"shoes light up red, and princesses actually like red, and I am Daddy's princess, so I like red, and have to have red,\" and so on, and on, and on. (Bless Ms. K and her saintly patience, as many an adult would have already been driven past insanity.)\n\nThe day probably would have gone on normally had the little princess had green light shoes, or blue, any color other than red. Her paint container no longer had red. Someone must have needed orange the last time it was used, and mixed the red and yellow together for their own selfish needs, not thinking to how it might in the future offend the royalty. Kelsey noticed there was no red in container, but remained rather calm about it. She glanced to the left and saw David making is red paint a little darker with each swirl. She could still us it though. \n\n\"I'm going to borrow this,\" she said. as she slid his container between them, his finger still in it. \n\"This is mine though. You have yours,\" David replied, not trying to start anything. \n\"But I need red, so we can trade.\" She now fully swapped the containers' positions. David grabbed back at his, to move it to its rightful place, but Kelsey wouldn't let go. \n\nTug. Tug. Tug. \"She will let go,\" David insisted in his head. But Kelsey only started escalating. It quickly turned from a tugging skirmish, to a pulling war. David wanted what was rightfully his. The paints had been preordained by Ms. K to their respective seats during nap time, and he had chosen his seat. Fate had determined his colors, and hers. And he would not be robbed of his destiny. \n\nThe tension was bubbling, so much that Kelsey boiled up the death scream of a banshee from deep within her stomach. As she released the shrill, her eyes widened with a fierceness. She almost became blinded by rage, but with all her adrenaline pumping, her instincts quickly turned from fight to flight. As she screamed, her eyes weren't the only ones that had been changing. By the time she stopped, David's eyes had turned a wincing cynical black. His grip had strengthened on the paint to where now the plastic had cracked, and paint had spilled. Kelsey's hand opened up then she froze, hoping not to push him over the edge that she sensed he was dangerously close to. But it was too late. Gravity was about to pull him over the cliff that she backed him up against. \n\nFor about two seconds, she thought she might be safe. He hadn't reared back to hit her. He just kept squeezing the paint, harder and harder. She might be alright. He released the paint and it took a bounce on the floor. She might still be alright. He raised his paint stained finger to his face and smeared the red and black war paint underneath his right eye. As he finished the left, he showed his teeth in a primal warning to run, like a gorilla. But this hell bound gorilla already knew that anyone and anything in his way was marked for destruction. \n\nHe had snapped. he pushed Kelsey's shoulders and tumbled backward onto the ground. As she started to cry, the only noise David's body was making was the animal like panting and grunting as he darted for the toy section. He wasn't happy, and if the others wouldn't let him be, then he would take their's. He started tossing toys blindly behind him. The trains, the cars, the blocks...the big container of marbles. \n\nMs. K by this point was not happy either and was calmly walking over to get the situation under control. As she walked closer, the marbles rolled further. She reached out her hand to grab David, just a few steps away. But with the last closing of the few feet between them, her foot met one of the marbles. She slipped, and started to regain her balance. One step away. The other foot just needed to adjust slightly on its next step and she would have her footing, and him. But she was focused on the toys that might be slamming her face, not the toy car that her other foot was about to land on. She slipped again, but this time, fell to the floor backward. She landed flat on her back. Her head followed after her body and snapped down onto one of the blocks David had tossed. She had lost control, and consciousness. \n\nThere were a few children screaming before and the calamity, but after Ms. K fell, they all lost it. Some children were crying, huddling together. Others were pleading with David to calm down. But he was just starting.\n\nDavid turned at the sound on Ms. K's thump. He realized what he had done. He realized this was his room now. He turned to open shelving underneath a row a windows, where supplies were stored underneath. On top was where Ms. K kept papers, displayed models and other artwork the students created, and Mr. Chippybottom's cage. \n\nHe stuck his arm out at the beginning of the shelving and took off for the other side of the room, arm remaining stiff. First the papers, then the clay sculptures from last week. The class pictures from previous years classes fell to the floor and glass shattered from the frame. David's arm bent back slightly when he got to Mr. Chippybottom, but he slung it around, and the cage landed on its side on top of some of the glass. Its door swung open and a frightened little critter scurried out for safety. \n\nAll the other children were screaming and crying now. \n\nDavid continued his rampage. On to the teacher's desk, where he flung the drawers open. With each one he stuck his hand in, grabbed whatever he got a hold of, and threw it up in the air before moving to the next drawer. Once those were finished, he climbed up on top the chair, then to her desk. He kicked what he could off of it, pencil containers, more papers, a picture of her nephews. \n\nThe screaming got louder.\n\nDavid raised his arms atop the desk, took a deep breath in, and let out a dominating roar. As he ran out of breath, he saw the tubes of acrylic paint near the far end of the room back near the toy corner. Other kids had started gathering there, just to always keep as much distance between themselves and David. He jumped forward from the desk and hit the ground running toward the paints. The crowd quickly split to avoid his charge. He quickly stopped to pick a bottle, and went for the red. He took a few seconds struggling with the cap. This was no fit of rage, this was intentional. \n\nHe unscrewed the cap and gave the bottle a squeeze. Some paint shot up in the air and squirted his face, and some other just splattered onto the floor. He turned around, maniacally laughing. His head slowly turned scanning the room. He had locked in on Kelsey. Their eyes were deadlocked. She couldn't move from the shock. He took off toward her, bottle in hands. She kept screaming. \n\nHe kept pressing forward and stopped a foot from her. He paused for a second, just to relish. his elbows whipped out from the side of his body and he squeezed with all his might. Red is for princesses right? He unloaded half of the bottle in one squeeze, covering Kelsey from her hair to her pretty little shoes. \n\nSuddenly, he heard another adult's voice. It was the 1st grade teach from down the hall. She had heard the screaming and was coming to check in. She saw the mess and witnessed David's blood colored attack on Kelsey. She screamed out \"CHILD, STOP IT!\". David turned with his head down, and an evil grin beneath his gleaming eyes. He ran with the rest of the bottle towards Ms. K's still unconscious body. He laid down on top of her with his back on top of her stomach. He wriggled his legs in the air, laughing uncontrollably, and lifted the paint bottle upside down. It was raining paint on top of them. \n\nThe other teacher was dumbfounded. She couldn't take it all in, but knew she needed to attend to Ms. K. She shoved David off her body and he slid easily on the floor due to the lubrication. As the screaming continued, and Ms. K was examined, David again went unnoticed. All of the commotion focused attention on the teacher and Ms. K now, so David slipped out the classroom door, returning the kingdom to the princess. \n\n\n",
"Paranoid and hello\n\n----\nJust me here.\nHello.\nPlease Hold my voice \nin your head\nSo I know it won't\nGet lost in this mess.\n----\nIt's a wasteland today\nAnd yesterday \nmuch the same.\nI wish I could actually\nTalk to you now\nInstead of \nwriting to myself\nThings that will \nnever be read.\n----\nI don't have a lot to \nSay\nMost of it can be conveyed\nWith my \nBody \nMy eyes\nThe way I'm in disguise.\n----\nEndlessly I sit here\nIn the same room\nWriting and playing\nDreaming that I'm waiting\nNot stuck or afraid\nJust waiting.\nFor what?\nFor a moment I know\nSomeday\nMust arrive.\n----\nRight?\n----\nBut When did I get here\nAnd how do I get out\nWhen I just go \nround and round\nIn and out\nBarely able to cope.\n----\nTrying to relate everything back to me\nAnd going crazy because all is\nOut of context\nOut of whack\nAnd I'm out of my mind\nParanoid and alone.\n----\nNo one to springboard off of\nJust me and my beer\nHolding on tightly\nAs I hear their whispers sing\nAcross the landscape\nCold and harsh, afraid.\n----\nEveryone hates me here\nNo one wants me to stay\nI smell.. I'm insane\nThe music won't drown out\nMy inner voices that \nTake over for theirs.\n----\nI'm not safe in here\nOr out there\nTruly they are the same now\nI'm under attack\nFrom all sides...\n----\nHelp."
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[WP] You say, "of course I'd kill him!" The old man snaps his fingers and you find yourself in a dimly lit room. A terrified 14-year old Adolf Hitler is huddled in the corner of the room, sobbing as he watches you.
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"I take a long deep breath. Well, that's it. I cock my head a bit, raise my crossbow, kneel and take aim.\nThwack.\nA humid, wet sound and a thud. \nEverything goes spinning, a whirlwind of colors that sickens me before I pass out.\nSilence. Darkness.\nI blink, gazing uneasily at the uniformed men in front of me, anymately discussing in front of an European map. Most of Eastern Europe almost up to Greece has red flags with an all too familiar hammer and sickle.\nOne of the men seems to finally notice me as I still try to come to terms with...well, everything and flashes a big, hopeful smile.\nHis accent is thick: \"Ah, kommander! Velcome!\"\nI look back at the map.\n...Fuck.",
"I smile and hold out my hand to him.\n\nHe slowly reaches out and takes it. I gently pull him into a soothing embrace.\n\n\"Shhhhh, it's okay\" I say, as I stroke his head.\n\nIn one motion, I tighten my grip and twist the boys head. His small frame tenses for a moment then goes limp.\n\nI lay the body on the floor, folding his hands over his chest. I walk out of the room, my job complete. May the histories of what was, what is, and what could have been forgive us both."
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[WP] You are a successful hitman. An unsuspecting, cheery and nice girl moves next door. She knocks on your door one day and asks for help.
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"First thing to pop in my head:\n\nA light wrap on the door distracts me from packing the last of the empty brass cases. A quick tap of a button whooshes the hand crafted ammunition into a hidden compartment in the wall but I keep the familiar grip of my blade as I glide to the door and rip it open. My grip tightens to a painful level and my blade scythes towards the attacker. \"Hi, my name's Annie..\" and SLICK her blood sprays across the doorway but misses me entirely.\n\nwhere to go now: a dark comedy or the birth of a rampaging killer",
"I was supposed to be a programmer. A silly, useless nerd that stayed at home each day and lived off pizza.\n\nI guess if you're skinny and weak-looking, people will ignore you without a second glance. That, coupled with the illusion of glasses and perpetual bed hair will give people the impression that you're a young, hapless child that recently graduated from his mother's basement.\n\nThey couldn't have been more wrong. I do strive hard to keep my identity a secret. I am timetock, one of the most successful assassins in the world.\n\nI have not failed a single time. I have not even came close to being caught. People never suspect me, and the ones that witness me in the act... well, I made sure they were terminated.\n\nAs far as my landlord and neighbors are concerned, I'm a freelance programmer that lives off pizza and caffeine. I'm not sure how much I can keep up the image in this apartment; I'll have to move soon. One, to keep myself on my toes. Two, make people forget about me.\n\nYou know what I hate? Over-friendly neighbors. I mean, I suppose it's not really their fault, but it's not really their business to go around sticking their noses in other people's business either. Like this Sherry girl that moved recently across my apartment. She's so bubbly and cheery and... *disgusting*. Ugh. I fantasize about killing her in various gruesome fashions, but every (smart) hitman knows that it is never wise to waste your abilities on something that doesn't involve money.\n\nIt wasn't long when she had problems with her computer. Me, being the \"geeky computer tech guy\", was asked for help.\n\nThere was one flaw in my setup. I didn't have much way around computers. I didn't know the core of the person I was supposed to act; I just put up a veneer and it's more than enough most of the time. There is the occasional neighbor who comes to me for help, but I feign busy and shoo them away.\n\nSherry is persistent though, I'll give her that. \"Just this one thing, Max. Just this one thing,\" she keeps repeating at the door, unaware of manners or courtesy. I had to choose between suffering hours of pleading at my door, or maybe a simple fix of her computer by restarting the computer. Her IQ was probably a single digit, anyway. Reluctant to open the door, but more unwilling to listen to her plead over and over, I opened the door.\n\nAnd saw a knife heading toward my face.\n\nYears of training and scraping through the most dangerous situations kicked in. I instinctively bent backwards, narrowly dodging the knife that would have otherwise opened a wound in my neck. I flipped backwards, taking a switchblade out of my pocket as I did so, and landed on my feet, surveying my attacker.\n\nIt was indeed Sherry, but she was armed with a knife in her left hand and a gun in her right hand. \"It's a shame I couldn't bring more weapons. They make too much noise,\" she sighed, as she raised the gun in my direction and fired. Again, sheer experience and reaction allowed me to predict the path of the bullet from the muzzle and direction of the gun, and i rolled to my right behind a sofa to take cover. I barely had enough time to react before Sherry hurdled over the couch and threw her knife at me. I shifted my head just enough to dodge the blade, but not before it nicked my ear.\n\nThere were weapon regulations in the building I lived in, and guns would be easily heard if either of us used them. Sherry must've had only a single bullet, for the lightweight nature of the gun, and she used it up. She threw her knife at me. Her finesse and accuracy with the knife was top notch, worthy of a top tier assassin such as myself. However, she was out of options now. I still had my switchblade; therefore, I still had the upper hand.\n\nAt least, I thought I had the upper hand. My heightened moral dipped when Sherry pulled out two more blades from what looked like her bra.\n\nI hated to admit this, but it was obviously over. She threw the two blades at once, and I admitted defeat. I didn't even bother dodging either of them, and the two wafers of cold steel plunged perfectly into my lungs.\n\n\"Thanks, Max! My computer's all fixed now!\" Sherry said to me as I was losing consciousness. \"You've been a big help!\"",
"\"The fires of stars are dim; and their lights are forever.\n\nThe meteor's flame is brief; yet its beauty outshines the stars.\"\n\nThe moon is cold. The wind is soft. The knife - bloodied as it is - has no place on such a beautiful night.\n\nSo why is it here? What am I doing, destroying the beauty of the night?\n\nI set the knife down on the table.\n\nAs I poured my second glass of spirits - cheap stuff that I don't even like anymore - the note seemed to stare at me from beneath the knife.\n\nI know what it said.\n\n\"Well done. Lay low for a while. We'll come for you in two months or so. And congratulations. I promise you that the rewards will keep coming.\"\n\nI tossed back another shot, feeling it burn in a very distant sort of way.\n\nAnd that's how I spent the night. Drinking, and looking at the stars. Wondering where it had all gone wrong. Wondering if, perhaps, nothing was wrong after all.\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nEven monsters have emotions. Indeed, it is arguable that monsters cannot exist if they have no emotions. But I - after all these years, I have none left.\n\nThere's the bottle. There's the knife. There are the rewards.\n\nBut there is nothing inside.\n\nSometimes I wonder if I'm going mad. The rest of the time, I'm certain I am already mad.\n\nAnd I wonder how much more I can take of this. How much longer it will take before I finally get too mad, too unstable. How long until they replace me.\n\nThen a note arrives, detailing the next job. Or the bottles come, lots and lots of them. And then I have no time left to wonder.\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nIt was near dawn when escape finally came to me in the form of a dream.\n\nI dream of the past - a past that I gave the world to leave. A past that I would almost return to.\n\nThe first thing I remember - was the hunger. There is no way I will ever forget that constant hunger.\n\nI don't know how old I was when they found me. They guessed that I must have been five, or six. I reason, now, that it was probably closer to six - malnutrition does things to your growth.\n\nAnd to me, back then - there was nothing more terrifying than hunger. Death was trivial. I have stared death in the face countless times - but hunger. Hunger is the one thing that I'll never endure again.\n\nThey found me on the roadside. I was near blind from hunger, curled up into a shivering mess of skin, bones, and snot.\n\nBack then, I could feel it coming. Death. And even now, I wonder sometimes. Would things be better if I had simply died?\n\nBut I wouldn't ever know. I won't know, because a pair of hands came into my dwindling vision.\n\nA pair of hands that held onto the remnants of a muddied, flattened loaf of bread.\n\nI will never forget that moment. How it felt to bite into the mixture of dirt, tears, and food. Bitter, salty, and sweet at the same time.\n\nI will never forget those hands either. The hands of the boss.\n\nThe hands that used to give me bread - hands that now gave me cold, hard cash, however much of it I needed. Hands that now gave me simple notes: Names, locations, and deadlines. Notes that determined the balance of power in this world - notes that sent men to their deaths.\n\nAnd then I awoke. Someone was knocking at the door.\n\n-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nThe apartment next door was abandoned. Had been for years, her papa said, since before she was born, in fact. Oddly enough, nobody had ever moved in. Papa had said something about the rent being absurdly high, and how the landlord was a bad word. Then mommy had shushed him, scolding him for saying a bad word and speaking badly of others.\n\nThat was a month ago. Today, her neighbor had moved in. And just in time, too!\n\nA cacophony of clicks and clacks sounded behind the doorway.\n\nFor the first time, she began to wonder if this was a good idea.\n\nMaybe Papa was right. Maybe this neighbor was a bad word.\n\nThen the door opened a crack - held fast by a steel chain. The smell of something... odd... began to drift out.\n\n\"Who is it?\"\n\n\"It's me - Lilian.\"\n\n\"I don't know you.\"\n\nWithout further ceremony, the door began to close.\n\n\"Wait!\"\n\nI don't know why I did. Maybe I was drunk. Maybe I was too used to following orders. Or maybe I was just tired - so very, very tired. So I waited.\n\n\"Umm...\"\n\nBut I decided I couldn't wait forever after all.\n\n\"What do you want?\"\n\n\"I ... just wanted to talk.\"\n\nI should have closed the door. I knew I should have closed the door. Six months ago, before the job, I would have closed the door. Six years ago? I wouldn't have waited around in the first place.\n\nBut now was now. I closed the door, unlatching the last chain that separated me from the rest of the world.\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\"Come in. I didn't prepare for guests, so there's not much I can offer you.\"\n\n\"It's so clean.\"\n\n\"Huh?\"\n\n\"Your place, mister. Everything is just... so neat.\" In a smaller voice, she added. \"It's almost like nobody lives here.\"\n\nI didn't really understand what she meant, at first.\n\nThen I remembered how his home had been. The furniture, though tasteful, was chipped and aged. Stacks of papers and books adorned his walls, and the bookshelves overflowed with documents.\n\nIn contrast, the safe-house was far too organized. The luxuries were just there for show. Everything had been laid out for survival. Not for comfort.\n\nI laughed - and for the first time in my life, it felt almost natural. \"Well, of course. This isn't really my home. I'm just... moving in for a while.\"\n\n\"Really? So where do you live?\"\n\n\"Where do I...\" I nearly stopped. \"I travel a lot.\" I explained.\n\n\"So you don't have a home?\"\n\n\"Well... I suppose I had one.\" Six months ago.\n\n\"What happened?\"\n\nI killed him. \"I'm not welcome there any more.\"\n\n\"Oh.\"\n\nShe squirmed in her chair as I searched the kitchen for biscuits. It didn't take me long.\n\nI never felt safe without a week's supply of food. Not since I was five. Anyone who has experienced hunger as I have would say the same.\n\n\"Here. It's not much to taste. But it should be filling, at least.\"\n\n\"Thank you.\"\n\n\"Don't mention it.\"\n\nSilence was filled with the crunch and crumble of dry biscuits. Try as she might, she couldn't resist making a face at the taste.\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nI finished my biscuit. She struggled with hers.\n\n\"Where are your parents?\"\n\n\"Papa is working. So is mama.\"\n\n\"And they just let you walk wherever you want?\"\n\n\"Not really.\" She shook her head. \"I'm not supposed to go to other floors of the building. But this floor's okay, since you only moved in today.\"\n\n\"I see.\" I didn't, really. It was only moments later that I finally realized the irony of the situation. I might be the most dangerous person in the entire apartment block - but I ranked least dangerous in her young mind.\n\nGo figure.\n\n\"Your eyes look empty, mister.\"\n\n\"Pardon?\"\n\n\"Your eyes. They're empty.\"\n\n\"I don't understand.\"\n\n\"I don't know how to say it.\" She focused her gaze on the biscuit, embarrassed. \"It's... it's like they're buttons. Not real eyes.\"\n\nI leaned back in my seat. Thinking back, he'd mentioned something similar. How i looked burnt out. Worn, was what he said. \"Maybe I've just seen too much.\"\n\n\"Oh.\"\n\n\"Why don't you just give me that. It's painful, watching you eat it.\"\n\n\"Sorry.\"\n\n\"It's fine.\"\n\nAnd I finished my second biscuit.\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\nShe left.\n\nWhat more is there to do?\n\nThe knife is polished. I needed to keep this from reaching the boss. There was no other way.\n\nThis is the price of being human.\n\nI look into the sunset. The sun's dying rays that bathe the world in blood daily.\n\nIsn't it odd that so many people find it beautiful?\n\nWith a deep breath, I prepare one last drink to steady my nerves.\n\nI have stared death in the face countless times. But this was the first time I felt fear.\n\nPerhaps it's because I'm human, after all. Or, to be precise. It's because my eyes aren't empty anymore.\n\nTonight, a murderer shall cease to defile this evil world. Tonight, I'll find out what would have happened if there was no boss. Tonight. I am alive.\n\n--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n<The beginning is a translated quote of Chinese author Gu Long. It's just my take on how it should have been translated. Might differ with official translations.\n\nSorry about the second half. It's late, and not really good enough to justify a late submission. But a late submission is better than no submission, and so here's the second half of the story."
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[WP] Tell me about a terrifying thing/moment from your childhood. Make me feel like I'm there with you.
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"I looked at you, or what seemed like you. My eyes silently begging you to stop what was happening, to intervene, to make yourself known. But you stood still, a ghost on the wall. My brother hovered above me, his body odor acrid in the air. I avoided his eyes, trying again to find yours.\n\n“Help,” I uttered out, though you didn’t seem to hear. He stopped, asking,\n\n“Did you say something?” I shook my head.\n\nHe continued on, I tried not to cry. I tried to find your gaze, but you couldn’t take it anymore. Watching, I mean. And with a gust of wind through the room that smelled like summer, I saw you escape out the window, leaving only a sense of hollowness that I didn’t know what had given it to me. \n\nYou or my brother.",
"I can hear them, tires heavily crunching on the asphalt. \nThe hairs on the back of my neck stand up like a cat's. \nI'm a cat though, I coan't spring away and scramble through the hedges. \nI swing my bag off my bag and rummage through. \nA last ditch attempt to see if they really *are* following. \nAs I pretend to go through the papers, I hear the van roll to a stop. \nA reluctant glance confirms my fears. \nI zip up the bag and put it back on, tears welling in my eyes. \nI can feel their gaze boring into me. \n*I have to run*.",
"My childhood, I never wanted to go to the first floor of my house alone. However, sometimes I must. When I went down, I took step carefully on the stairs. I looked around nervously. Only one light was turned on in the first floor, which was from the kitchen. On a little hurry, I switch the mid light on. It gave some sense of security. I did everything fast, from washing the dishes to taking a bath. I didn’t want to spend my time on the first floor, not in the night. \n\nBetween the stairs and the kitchen, when I looked to the right, all I could only see was darkness. This was the one that gave me the chill. I usually terrified when I looked there. Even though my parents told me that I couldn’t see ghost (well, my mom and dad could), I was still scared. \n\nOnce, on the daylight, I was playing in a room in the first floor. I heard some knocking from the wall; it was from the next door house. Irritated, I returned the knocking. It was getting intense until I got bored and left it alone. One thing that I didn’t know was there was no one on that house. \n\nMany other things happened in the house, but it was never harmful. Still, it was scary. \n",
"She remembers what they told her and the other girls in school. It was easy, it was simple; *if someone touches you, tell someone*. But this wasn't easy, this wasn't simple, and telling hadn't even crossed her mind, because she didn't realize this was what her teacher had been talking about. What had happened wasn't just touching. It was so, so much more. More than she could try to understand or think about.\n\nShe could feel her coach staring at her from his porch, a cigarette between his lips and his hands on his lap, his eyes burning holes into her body, as she walked across the road, gently, not feeling her feet hit the ground. What had happened had been worse than any nightmare she had ever had, yet she felt like she was in a dream. \n\nThe sunlight had hit her face as she had been pushed out the front door, and she was confused; it had been so long, why wasn't it dark? Her confusion only grew into mounting terror. Before she had gone to her coaches house, she didn't know people did things like *that* to others. To children. To children who loved them.\n",
"Laughter surrounded the hotel swimming pool, children, parents, teenagers and lovers where all enjoying their summer vacation abroad. Different languages could be heard as people from all over the world flocked to the sunny beautiful country of Cyprus in hopes to get a tan before having to leave. \nTwo sisters begged their parents to let them swim in the 'big kid' pool the oldest stating that they wouldn’t go far and that she would look after the youngest. Eventually their Mother and Father agreed and off the girls ran so excited to be able to swim in the deep end and with the diving boards. \nThe youngest of the two, Lily, wasn’t that confident of a swimmer and still wore arm bands to aid her. The eldest, Amanda, was a confident swimmer who loved the water and meeting new people. Amanda took Lily's hand and both together they jumped into the pool with a huge splash. They where laughing, splashing one another and seeing who could hold their breath the longest and soon they had made friends with some old kids who where also holidaying. \nThe older new kids wanted to jump off the smaller diving board and invited Amanda and Lily to join them. Of course Amanda said yes! She followed the other kids, climbing out of the water and joining the line to use the diving board. Lily was left in the pool floating around watching Amanda. \nSoon it was Amanda's turn to jump she walked up onto the board and took with her toes just of the edge looking into the choppy water below. She started to have second thoughts and was going to back out but someone knocked the other end of the board and she slipped and fell. \nThe water tumbled around her, it went up her nose and down her throat. She didn’t know which way was up and her heart hammered in her chest from fear. She was loosing oxygen and started to panic, she saw peoples feet swimming around and before long someone dragged her up to the surface. \n She began to cough up the water in her lungs and hung onto the side of the pool until she gained her breath. Lily was still floating around with the other kids, the person who pulled her up was an older man he smiled and swam off before she could thank him. Lily saw Amanda by the side of the pool and shouted for her to join, Amanda wanted to keep up appearances and not be a scaredy cat she swam back over to the group and pretended that nothing happened. ",
"'Fucking come here!' \n\nI run. I can't run far or fast. I was one of the fastest runner in primary school but high school is totally different. Everyone is faster, bigger, meaner.\n\nI almost trip over a tree root and go flying. My mind briefly fills with the image of myself impaled on some weather sharpened branch, twitching like a stuck bug while year 10 watch me slowly die.\nI don't trip. I run on. The air is burning in my chest, my throat. Eyes scanning for a teacher, a grown up, the flat side of a building. Nothing but trees. The rest of the kids are behind me, the sharp sounds of branches snapping, jeers, and yells. \n\nThey will catch me and they will beat me up. Part of me is fine with this. Part of me has been for the past two years. There's only so much damage you can do to someone before an adult steps in or walks by. But we're outside now, and there's no one around. \n\nA branch scores a bloody line under my eye. My trainers, cheap and flimsy fill with muddy water. My socks like a sponge, squeezing wetness through my toes.\n\nIf I had just taken my beating I would be fine. But I wanted to stand up for myself. The rest of my class were watching and I had had enough. I had thrown a punch. One so weak that he had paused long enough to realise I had hit him back. \n\n'Fucking big balls now are ya?' Slap. A fucking slap. Not the tussle and wrestle and close quarters of a school yard scrap but a slap.\n\n'Fucking bitch.' Another slap. The class groaned in embarrassment. His fucking friends laughing it up. I kicked out now. Pistoning myself between the bus seats and for good luck or bad solidly connecting with his balls. \n\nI didn't wait to see his reaction. That stupid 'o' look on his face was enough and I sped from the bus while the driver turned to shout.\n\nThe woods. \nTrees streamed past, not one fucking tree big enough to climb or hide behind. A wall appeared. Red brick and graffiti. No corners, no windows no doors. \n\nLeft or right?\n\nI ran alongside to the right and saw them reach the wall the same time as me. They tagged the wall as if this was PE class. Smiled at me and started walking towards me. I turned and the rest of them were there.\n\nNowhere to run. Trapped. Five of them, no six now. And John. He grabbed my by the t shirt and slammed me back into the brick. My head seemed to split open, there was a sickening crunch. \n'Fuckin kick me?' He sounded offended. Enraged. The rest of them egged him on. Another slam into the wall.\n\n'Go on then, fucking kick me again.'\n\nSlam.\n\nThey crowd got louder with each jeer. \n\n'Go on John, fuck 'im up'.\n\nJohn paused long enough to make eye contact, a nervous smile flashed across his face. He looked at me, where we were and the reality of it seemed to reach him.\n\n'Nah, leave it. Lookit him, fucking pussy.' \n\nJohn turned and walked off, ignoring plehs from the other lads to 'fuck me up'. He walked off.\n\nA few of them waited. Playing with the idea I was easy picking for them or that he would come back. Neither happened and they left. \n\nI slumped down and sat in the leaves, listening to them go. The wall behind me was warm. It hummed with some unseen machinery inside.\n\nI stayed there for a long time.\n\n",
"\"Come here,\" they whisper as I crawl.\n\n\"A little closer. We'll fix it all.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\nFour limbs stumbled, \n\nOne and all.\n\nFour limbs looked for the faces call.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nNow it got closer.\n\nNo not further at all.\n\n\"Come here,\" they whisper as I crawl.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nTheir touch was cold, their grins red.\n\nAt the time then, I didn't know the feeling.\n\nTo know a kind of fear that sends you reeling.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nNow I crawl no more,\n\nOnly two legs to the floor.\n\nSome nights I stay up though,\n\nThinking of so much more.\n\nIt still gets it's wish sometimes \n\nMy mind crawling near.\n\nAnd even as a man I feel fear.\n\nFear of it all.\n\n\"Come here,\" they whisper as I crawl."
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[WP] Due to a clerical error, all the saints are sent to hell, and all the sinners are sent to heaven.
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"The saints in white landed on crimson stone. They looked around themselves, one at a time, and saw nothing but endless flame and despair. Shadow had cloaked itself in every corner of the cavern, lave pools bubbled from cracks in the walls, and demented creatures flew overhead and into the smoky horizon. \n\nOne saint noted that their feathery wings were blackened by the darkness down here, and that eyes red with sorrow stared down at them.\n\n\"Please, my Lord, do not cast me here. For all my just decisions, you cast me to Hell?\" One man cried out. He got his robes dirty when he knelt on the floor. Fresh tears fell from his face, instantly evaporating. Another man breathed in the stench in the air, shoulders slumped, knowing that this was his eternal fate now, and that he must deal with it. He sat down on the ground and began to draw in the soot. \n\nAnother man decided to explore.\n\nThe rocks were hard to clamber over, the man thought, barely adjusting to the heat and fumes. No plants lived here; except, what would be plants were hissing vipers that snapped at your body whenever you past. Where trees would be, were thorny poles, alive with anger. Where the sound of the wind would be, was the howling of a deep cry. He knew this was Satan.\n\nHe was going to find Satan, and have a conversation with him.\n\nRocks dropped from above and onto his head. Looking up, he saw demons with the same blackened wings. The watched him go with a certain knowing to their charred faces. That low sound of whooshing sounded behind him, and he knew the demons were following.\n\nThe man pondering the life he'd lived as he searched. He was your average guy. Yeah, he'd performed a few sins in his day, but nothing warranting eternal damnation: sex before marriage, he drank, he smoked, he even didn't go to church. He also had two children, a loving wife, took care of his mother, whose advancing Alzheimer's caused his soul to shatter every time he thought of it. In his heart, however, he felt like he should be with God. In God's domain.\n\nOur man was snapped from his thoughts by a tall figure before him. He gasped at the sight. The figure could cut any man's courage into two by the image of him; where his hair would have been, endless scars and wounds bled out coal-like blood. He had no hands or feet, only sharp points that were rusted and scratched, as if his previous appendages were sliced off and replaced with this monstrosity. His voice, too, poured out the very darkness his wounds poured. \"Do you wish to see Him?\"\n\n\"I wish to.\"\n\n\"This way.\"\n\nOur man followed. On his way, sinners were on the floor, sobbing and repenting their sins to no avail. Children were being whipped and tortured, elderlies were hanging from nooses but never dying. Everything was as the books had said. \n\nAnd then he saw the Devil.\n\nTall. Muscular. Striking. Floating over a pool of water, the home of ravenous serpents. Of the Devil's face, you couldn't tell a single feature. It was hidden behind the wrinkled hands, the sound of defeated sobbing emanating throughout the plane. His back was crooked, and he stooped over the lake, formed by icy tears. That sound of sorrow, our man thought, is the most chilling sound a man can hear. The defeat in it; that this man was cast from Heaven by almighty God and forced to remain here forever, erupted the harshest cries and softest sobs.\n\nFinally, our man went to speak. \"I demand you greet me, Lucifer.\" He had no fear in his voice. He boomed it out. Strangely, the Devil aroused no terror within him. \n\nLucifer trembled back, after a pause. \"My son, do not despair.\"\n\n\"Only my Lord, may call me his son.\"\n\n\"Your Lord?\"\n\nOur man did not respond.\n\n\"You are angry at Him, are you not, for choosing to drop you into such a dark world?\"\n\nOur man looked down, then turned to stare into the sorrowful face of the man that led him here.\n\nAgain, Lucifer carried on without his visitor's answer. A voice, hoarse and aged, delivered the words, \"What had you always believed would happen, once you died?\"\n\nOur man sighed out the smoke, \"I would be with my Lord.\"\n\nThe weeping man nodded. His hand were lowered from his face, where years of crying had weathered the palms to bone, and stared at the saint. A long, white beard hanged down.\n\n\"And are you not with Him?\"\n",
"Angel Joe Pickam, Overseer of the Department of Records, looked down at the hapless angel sitting at the computer desk in horror. \"You can't be serious.\" He said. \n\nThe other angel, Harry Warth, stuttered a bit and glanced uncomfortably at his Aslan figurine standing next to the mouse. \"Um. Well.\" \n\nJoe leaned over Harry's shoulder and stared at the computer screen. The numbers on the Excel spreadsheet were drastically different than they had been an hour ago. \"Okay. Okay.\" He said, trying not to let the panic simmering deep within his stomach show in his voice. \"Please tell me it's not all of them who ever lived. At least give me that.\" \n\nHarry took the Aslan figurine and began fidgeting with it. \"I think so. Probably.\" \n\nThe angels in the surrounding cubicles had taken notice of the hushed conversation and Joe was increasingly aware of the looks and frightened faces. He straightened up. \"Right. I'm going to go check out what's happening out front. You...figure out what the *heck* happened here. Get the whole floor on it.\"\n\nWith that he blinked and in the next moment he stood at the Pearly Gates, looking through the bars at a growing line of people who definitely should not be standing there. They gave off a decidedly...*unwashed* aura, one that clashed with the soft white of the clouds they stood on. \n\nJoe stuck his head through the bars and whispered up at Saint Peter, \"Hey Pete, what's the lowdown here?\" \n\nSimon Peter looked down at him, and rumbled, \"these people should *not* be here. They are New Sinners and not the New Saints we were expecting. What happened for it to be this way, I do not know.\" \n\nJoe laughed nervously and refrained from banging his head against one of the pearl bars. \"Looks like it was a clerical error, as far as we can tell. Uh, we're working on it. Just keep detaining them until further notice.\"\n\nSimon Peter scratched at his beard. \"Naturally.\" Joe withdrew his head and prepared to leave. \"Ah, Angel Pickam,\" said Peter, \"the next time one of you boys comes down here, I would be much appreciative if you brought pizza with you. Reception this far out is terrible.\" \n\n\"Can do, P-man,\" and as Joe blinked he took out his phone and wrote \"note 2 self-get SP pizza k?\"\n\n---\n\nMeanwhile, down in Hell, Devilish Rogue-in-training Arnie Pyle wrinkled his nose as he contemplated the various newcomers milling about in the Waiting Cavern. *Somebody screwed up*, he mused, sharing an exasperated glance with fellow Devilish Rogue-in-training Ryan Lew. They weren't prepared for something like this. When they had been recruited as employees of Hell, they'd been given classes on PR (employees are no longer called 'Demons' or 'Devils', they were told, because not all employees are demons and 'Devilish Rogue' sounds 'hip'. Appeals to today's youth or something), torture, that sort of thing--but not what to do if a gaggle of saints showed up ready for processing.\n\nArnie rolled up his sleeves, straightened his tie, and approached one of the Saints. Newly made, he guessed, judging from the smell--smelled like freshly mowed grass and Febreze--and definitely confused. Still, it couldn't hurt to ask. \n\n\"Hi! I'm your Devilish Rogue Arnie Pyle, and I'm at your service!\" He said with a bright, cheery tone to his voice. \"As you can probably tell, you're not exactly supposed to be here. Any idea how you...made the journey?\"\n\nThe saint shook her head. \"No...\" she said slowly. She rolled her eyes upward, as if sending a prayer to Heaven. *Good luck with that. That's hundreds of layers of rock that prayer'll have to get through. No reception for prayers down here.* She paused, and said \"do you know...how long we'll have to wait here until this is all sorted out?\" \n\nArnie shook his head. \"Nope! No idea whatsoever.\" He looked over at Ryan, who was fiddling with the stereo. A moment later, muzak ala \"It's a Small World After All\" began playing via the hidden speakers wired throughout hell. A few saints wailed and clamped their hands over their ears. \n\nThe saint he'd been speaking with shot him the most disbelieving expression he'd seen in a while. \"Seriously?\" \n\n--\n\n\"What do you *mean*? We can't wait that long!\" \n\nBack in heaven, Joe was currently arguing over the phone with a guy from Heaven's IT department. \n\n\"Look, if you want a thorough job on this that's how long we're going to need. The server has been giving us trouble.\" Came the long-suffering sigh of whomever it was Joe was speaking with.\n\nJoe massaged his temples. \"Did you try turning it off and on again?\" He asked. \n\nThere came an angry splutter from the techie and before he could say anything in response Joe hung up as one of the winged mailmen--Keith Sylar--hurried over his way. \n\n\"Saint Peter says the crowd out there is getting restless,\" Keith announced. \"I really think we should tell the Boss.\"\n\n\"No! No. Bad idea.\" Joe shuddered. \"You remember the ten plagues thing, right? Let's not piss Him off.\" \n\n\"Joe!\" Joe turned to see another mailman hurry his way. \"They're r-i-o-t-i-n-g out there. Rioting! What do we do? More and more sinners keep showing up.\" \n\n*Crapcrapcrap*. Joe didn't know what to do. This was a mess. \"Uh, somebody go see if the elevators are working. We can try and send them down to hell five at a time.\" \n\nBefore Keith and the other mailman could do just that, a hush fell over the floor. Joe felt every skin cell tingle, every follicle of hair stand on end. It was like he was awash in static electricity. He turned, and there was God, ambling down the aisle, resplendent in a Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and flip-flops. He had what looked like a smoothie in one hand. On either side of him, angels stood up at their cubicles as a show of respect. \n\n\"Holy *shit*.\" Joe exclaimed, and then winced. God set His smoothie down on Harry's desk. Harry eyed the drink in awe. \n\n\"So I hear today's been quite the day,\" God said, in a tone that Joe couldn't interpret but what he hoped was benevolent. \"Well, why didn't someone tell me? I don't bite.\" \n\n\"Uh. Uh. Er.\" Joe wrung his hands and tried to look away. He couldn't. *There goes any chance of a raise.* \"Our bad?\" He offered weakly.\n\nGod raised His right hand and waved it in the air. Then He lowered it. \"Well!\" He exclaimed, in a tone that Joe thought was probably jocular. \"That's that!\"\n\n\"You mean it's all good? Fixed? The slate's been wiped clean?\" Said Harry, thoughtlessly. \n\nGod laughed a great booming laugh and ruffled Harry's hair. \"Yup! Everyone's where they should be.\" \n\nThe angels all cheered. Some threw papers into the air and danced a jig or two. \n\n\"Что происходит один ?\" \n\nThe cheering died down as the angels turned and looked at a very irate man sitting sprawled in the middle of the aisle. \n\n\"Joseph Stalin?\" Joe cried out, in a fit of melodramatics. \n\n\"Whoops,\" said God, who then snapped His fingers. Stalin vanished. \n\nThe celebrations resumed. God picked up His smoothie and said \"keep up the good work!\" and then He was gone. Just like that. \n\nJoe collapsed into the vacated chair next to Harry. \"Yah-hah! We did it!\" Harry hollered, clapping him on the back. \n\nJoe leaned back and closed his eyes. \"Yeah.\" . \n\nAfter a second he bolted upright in his chair and stared at Harry with eyes wide open. \"Oh, Hell! Keith? Keith? I forgot Peter's pizza. Would you go and get one for him? Go to Hell's kitchen. *Their* ovens actually work.\" \n"
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[WP] You are a 20 year-old male in a Mall dressing room trying on pants, when Taylor Swift barges in to hide from paparazzi. You agree to help, yet pretend you didn't know she was famous.
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" \nPart one:\nI shouldn't have drank so much yesterday. But hey, you have to live a little the night before you get married. As my head pounds I sit up and examine my surroundings. I'm at my best friend, Aaron's house. I feel my face contort with confusion, I could have sworn on Taylor Swift I went home last night. \n\nNevertheless, I have no idea what time it is. I pull my phone out of my pocket, noticing it's at 15%. 2:00 pm. There are several missed calls. I mumble as I stand, my back hurting from sleeping on the couch. Wait. 2 pm? My wedding is at three. \n\nEyes widening, I race out of his apartment.I have to think this through. I look down at what I'm wearing... a graphic tee and sweat pants?! My suit is at home, but it's a 40 minute drive south to my house from Aaron's, and the venue was at least 15 minutes north of his house. I think, I can make it. I can *totally* make it. \n\nI find my car, parked in the handicapped spot, with a ticket on the window. I groan but ignore it, hop in my car, and start driving. I check my phone, all the missed calls are from my fiance. I press dial and put the phone to my ear, but instead of hearing Michele's voice, I hear the blaring sirens of a firetruck. Soon enough it races by, and I notice the smoke in the air. I then see a huge car accident, and immediately make a u turn. There's just no way I'm going to deal with the traffic. \n\nRacking my brain, an idea drifts through my thoughts. Buy a suit. I think, why not? I've lived in this area my whole life, there's a bridal store in the mall, and believe it or not, it's on the way to the venue. I mentally face palm, why didn't I think of it sooner?\n\nI'm exhilarated and nervous, maybe I won't be late after all. \n\nPart two\n\nI walk through the sliding glass doors, and immediately realize this is going to be hard. The store is filled with dresses and tuxedos and random accessories. I speed walk to my size, and an employee offers to help. I explain I'm in a huge rush and need something good, fast. She picks out a few tuxedos and points to the dressing rooms. \n\nI choose the handicap accessible stall, because obviously that's my thing. I'm just glad there aren't tickets for dressing rooms. I try on the coats first, and I hear shouting outside. I ignore it, I have to hurry. I settle on one and start trying on pants. \n\nIt was like Goldilocks and the three bears,only thing missing was a blond girl, and well, three bears. The first pair was too big, the second pair was too small and the third pair was *justttttttt*- \n\nIf there was any trace of the three bears thoughts at that moment, they were immediately erased as I looked up and saw the beautiful goddess that is Taylor Swift. I open my mouth and she immediately clasps a hand over it. *she touched me*. She whispers \"please don't say anything, I've been harrassed all day by paparazzi, they're outside right now. I just need a break.\" \n\nAn idea pops into my head. I must be a genius today. I remove her hand ftom my face, and I say \" paparazzi? Are you famous or something?\" \n\nShe looks at me, almost knowingly, but I'm not about to crack. I think of Michele for a split second and say \"OK, is there anything I can help you with? I have a wedding to get to.\" \n\nTaylor looks taken aback, she says, \"look, I'll be your plus one if you help me. Can you make a distraction or something? Here, give me your number. When I'm gone I'll call you and you can text me the address.\"\n\nI feel so bad that I am tempted, but I say \"Honey, it's my wedding. Why do you think I would want you to be my 'plus one' anyway?\"\n\nShe says \"I'm Taylor Swift!\"\n\nI roll my eyes and speak. \"ill help you out. But you owe me, all right?\"\n\n\"Fine.\" \n\nPart three:\n\nI'm not sure what I'm going to do with my favor from Taylor Swift yet.\n",
"*Riiiiiiiip*\n\n\"Oh, fuck-\" \n\nAlright, maybe I was in denial about gaining those few pounds. Regardless, I was probably going to have to pay for these pants I just ruined. I heave a sigh as I wriggle my way out of them, vowing to try that new workout routine my coworker couldn't stop raving about.\n\nMy right leg's journey into the next pair of slacks is interrupted when a blond figure crashes into the dressing room, effectively knocking me to the ground.\n\n\"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! The paparazzi was just around the corner, I think I finally lost them- Are you alright?\"\n\n\"For fuck's sake, why wasn't it locked..\" I rub my forehead, which collided with the wall on my way down, and crack my eyes open at the person who invited themselves in.\n\n*Holy shit.*\n\n*It's Taylor Swift.*\n\n*How hard did I hit my head? Am I hallucinating?*\n\n*I must be.*\n\n\"Err.. sir? Can you hear me?\"\n\n\"Oh, uh, sorry.. I-I banged my head against the wall and-\" I push off the floor and stand up, trying not to bump into Taylor in the process. Dressing rooms aren't exactly spacious, you know. \"I'm okay. Just knocked the wind out of me. Paparazzi, you say?\"\n\nShe nods her head slowly, one of her eyebrows raising inquisitively. \"Yeah.. I can never seem to lose them. I don't think they saw me come into here.\"\n\nI run a hand through my hair, fingers trailing as I try to think of how to respond. \"Well, uh.. welcome to my dressing room! You can, uh, hang out here until the coast is clear, I guess. I'm Josh.\" I hold out my hand to her.\n\nTaylor shakes my hand, her eyes glancing downward. \"Well.. I'm Taylor. Taylor Swift.\" Her eyes come back up to mine, looking for any indication that I'm able to recognize a global superstar.\n\nI just blink at her and smile, wondering when my hallucination will end. \"Cool, cool.\" I look around the small space awkwardly, not sure what to say. My eyes travel to the mirror and widen with horror when I realize I never finished putting on that pair of pants. \n\nI start stuttering as I attempt to rescue the last of my dignity. \"S-sorry, you caught me at a bad time-\"\n\nTaylor lets out a small laugh. \"Don't worry, I'm the one that barged into here.\"\n\nThankfully, these pants seem to fit fine. I breathe a small sigh of relief.\n\n\"Salmon. Bold color choice,\" she says simply.\n\n\"Yeah. I've always been a bit of a risk taker.\"\n\n\"They're very.. bright.\"\n\nI squint at her. \"It's not like you've owned a fashion line. I can do without the judgement.\"\n\n\"I have, actually.. but I don't mean to judge. Just making a comment,\" she says, her look of bewilderment slowly growing.\n\nI scratch the back of my head as I look at the pants in the mirror, pleased with how they look. \n\nTaylor clears her throat. \"So.. uh.. do you listen to the radio much?\"\n\n\"When I'm driving to work in the morning, sometimes, yeah. Usually those generic pop stations.\"\n\n\"Then you might have heard my music before!\" there's a hint of triumph in her voice.\n\nI shrug, figuring I might as well keep up whatever charade is happening right now. \"Maybe. I dunno. I'm not big into the music scene.\"\n\n\"You belong with me? Mine? Love story? Do those words mean nothing to you?\"\n\n\"... Are you coming onto me?\"\n\nTaylor sighs exasperatedly. \"No, no- I don't mean to brag, but I'm internationally famous. I haven't met someone who hasn't recognize me in.. years.\"\n\nI shake my head and shrug. \"Yeah, and I own Apple.\"\n\nShe opens her mouth and closes it quickly, opting instead to walk out of the dressing room and into the middle of the store.\n\n\"Yes, uh, hey everyone! I'm Taylor Swift. International star.\"\n\nShe's soon mobbed with fans and the paparazzi she was so desperately avoiding in the first place. The last I see of her is a smug smile in my direction before she leaves, followed by a hoard of fans.\n\nI rub my head, hoping the hallucination is finally over. I sit down on the stool in the dressing room.\n\n*riiiiiiip*\n\n\"For fuck's sake-\"\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] For every powerful superhero who can fly or turn invisible, there are several with inconvenient, annoying, or otherwise unfortunate superpowers. Tell the story of one such unlucky superhuman.
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"'So, you've haven't told me what your power is yet...'\n\n'I haven't?'\n\n'No, cheeky. Come on show me big boy.'\n\nBlack hair, caramel skin, limpid eyes and the devil's own grin. I was in trouble. And very happy for it.\n\nShe reached into her purse and drew out a packet of cigarettes. She daintily took own out, turned another upside down (ah, superstitious, this helps) and placed it gently between her ruby tinted lips. One slender finger curled up from her hand, long sharp nails painted red, and a brief blue flame erupting from the tip, lighting the cig.\n\nOooh, I was in trouble indeed. I'd been back home for far too long, people were starting to recognise me, I probably shouldn't have lied about being an Emp tonight, but for some girls, it's worth the risk.\n\nI'm sorry, but a smoker gets to me. It probably comes from all the old books I read. In a world with so many people, there are enough with healing abilities that a minor ailment, like cancer ridden lungs, is easily sorted ailment, like syphilis. Maybe I'm a throwback. Well, I am. I am a Throwback. Capital T. But from where I learnt my trade, a smoking hot dame, literally, a hot dame smoking is the pinnacle of attraction.\n\nBut I'm not the hero of this story. That's my friend Manny.\n\nBut since I'm the one telling it, I may as well big myself up a little.\n\n'Well, since you ask, I can read minds...'\n\nNow you're hearing harp music. It's a flashback, see? Poor little me, born without powers. A Throwback. Now, I had a good child hood. My parents were saints, got that? Never laid a hand on me, except when it was necessary. Which turned out to be often, but I'm big enough to own up to that. To do the crime, you do the time. But only if you get caught.\n\nNow my mom, I mentioned the healing before? Now, she was good at that. Had the healing hands. Damn, she had the healing feet, the healing toes, even the healing elbows, if I'd bothered to ask. My dad? Super learning. So good, he got a grant from the government. Sent him to the Smithsonian to learn all the books. And I mean that literally. Got his way through the whole collection. In a year. The rest of his life was sitting down with other like gifted individuals trying to collate all the data. Come up with something good with it all. Probably speaks a lot for the human condition that not much has changed, I'm sure, but I'm not a book learning man.\n\nWell, some books.\n\nWhen it turned out his pride and joy, only child, apple of his eye, had no more powers than an apple (apple for a reason my friend) my old man was...\n\nDetermined.\n\nHe was a good man. Never expected me to live up any bullshit ideals, but he was damn sure that no bullshit ideals would keep me down. He loved me for who I was, so I'm a bit sorry about the way I turned out. But only a bit. I reckon the old dog knew how things would go.\n\nSo there I was. Entering puberty. Finding out all about the fun of random erections and wet dreams, only to be told that I have no powers either. Coupled with the lazy eye, I'd have been a double pariah. I know, back then, it was only a small majority of the population that was powered, but it was still enough to single a kid out. Even code red and soap here territory. Again, old references I'm afraid.\n\nSo my dad, bless him, brought me his knowledge of magic. He'd read the books, and knew the spells. Now here's what kept me going all this time. In a world where it's quotidian (dad's old books again, great word) for a man to fly at light speed, a woman to bench press mountains, a dog to poo acid (always embarrassing for those picking up), what good was magic? Of course he made the cards disappear, he just sent them to another dimension, or something prosaic. But my dad (super learning, natch) could see this was my way out. A chance to lead a normal life. I couldn't be special, but I could fake it.\n\nMake an honest living.\n\nPoor dad. Super learning doesn't give you super insight.\n\nIn this world, a man who could make a ball appear under another cup was a teleportationist. Someone who could create flames and sparks at will was a pryomancer. And someone who could produce doves from their sleeves was a... I don't know what. I may be a criminal, but even I don't want to mangle languages that much.\n\nSo I'm a confidence trickster. In a world with superpowers, overcoming them is damn near a superpower itself. Well, except they make it so easy sometimes...\n\n'...and so the number you're thinking of is... twelve!'\n\nClap clap clap. Lovely girl, shame she didn't know what cold reading was.\n\n'Ok, you're right, but you took your time,' she said smiling.\n\n'Only because I was distracted by the other thoughts in your mind!'\n\n'Stop!' she blushed.\n\n'Really? Whips?'\n\nShe blushed even harder. That one was a shot in the dark, but it looked like things were going up this evening...\n\n'Hey.'\n\nAnd now they were down again.\n\nA hunched figure was by the table now, radiating gloom like it was his superpower. The girl would be gone soon, but I had to let it happen. He was the reason I was here tonight.\n\n'Hey, Manny, good to see you. This is...'\n\n'Blaise.'\n\nFortunately she'd had enough to drink, and failed to realise the supposed empath she'd been talking to didn't even know her name.\n\n'Take a seat. Join us.'\n\nPoor Manny. At the time of this story, there were still enough Throwbacks like myself that he may not have stuck out if he wanted to pass. But no. He had his powers, and he felt the social stigma of Throwback was worse than what he had...\n\nManny sat down, all lank hair and knees, one of which collided with Blaise. Poor girl. I knew she'd be off soon, but still...\n\n'So, Manny,' she said, 'Nemo here was just showing me his power. What do you do?'\n\nManny looked across at me. From beneath his fringe of lank hair, two accusing eyes bored back at me. I felt bad. Really, I did. For someone who happily swindled nominal gods out of their cash, only Manny could make me feel bad.\n\nHe knew I was a Throwback. We were friends since we were kids. Being back in town, I had of course stopped in to see him. Unfortunately, there was the Problem.\n\nOh yeah, capital P Problem.\n\nHe knew I was a Throwback. And Manny's power...\n\n'Apples,' he damn near shouted. I mean, it's embarrassing and all, I'm grateful he never revealed my secret, but there is such a thing as tact.\n\n'I'm sorry?' said Blaise. Oh, I liked this girl now. Anyone who could take a vitriol storm from Manny was aces in my book.\n\nManny sighed. 'I sense apples, alright? Apples. If there's an apple around, I'll know about it, OK? That's my power. Tremble. Or whatever.'\n\n'Oh wow,' said Blaise, 'That's... cool.' I may have fell in love at that point.\n\nManny was my only true friend. I'm not saying this in a boo-hoo, pity me way. I'm a con man. I fool living gods out of their money. I am, it must be said, a dick. But Manny has always known this. We were friends when we were kids. Then, when our powers should have developing, we still remained friends. And then, it came to pass, I found out I had no powers, and Manny found out about his lackluster one. We'd stayed friends, outcasts that we were.\n\n‘I’m sorry,’ said Manny. He really is a good guy, just got the short end of every straw. ‘What I mean is, I can sense any apple, or apple based product in my vicinity. I can then accurately gauge it’s distance from me. And relevant velocity, if it’s moving. Which isn't often. Because they're apples’\n\n‘Oh, ‘ said Blaise, ‘that’s nice,’ desperately trying to engage in the conversation. Like I said, lovely girl, but she was sending signals from planet friendly to planet morose. Manny had already switched off, hunched shoulders and greasy hair hiding his face from view. Blaise reached down to her hand bag. I was half tempted to stop her, but I was planning to leave town tomorrow anyway. And with Manny here... I’m charming, but even Jesus couldn’t manage that.\n\nI assume that’s what Jesus did. I never read too much into him, and all magicians are the same. \n\n‘Next time maybe?’ I called across. At least she turned and waved.\nOh well, the life of perpetual conman always presents opportunities. There would be plenty of Blaises, I’m sure.\n\n‘So, Manny,’ I said turning back, ‘I’m afraid I have to go...’\n\nTBC\n\n\n",
"Boiled, fried, and devilled eggs. They really ain't so fine:\n\nLike Midas with his golden touch, I specialize with mine.\n\nWhat food I touch turns all to shell about a poultry product\n\nWhether ham or caviar, it's a severe case of raw luck.\n\nI've gotten used to the strain, my doctors all agree\n\nthat whatever hands out powers made sure they prolonged me:\n\nFor I seem not to need to eat but bird eggs to survive\n\nNo vitamin is needed; only eggs keep me alive.\n\nSo, by the by, I try be a good old average Joe\n\nWorking nine to five, through traffic thick and slow.\n\nI simply must remember - to be not greatly rude -\n\nTo stay the hell away from my coworkers' vaunted food.",
"What the fuck do you want? Come to look at the fat girl that can run real fast? Want to get a few sound bites for your boss? You’re some skinny little hipster ass-kisser come to get his boss the big scoop on the fast fatty huh? I bet that’s what it is. Well, FUCK OFF.\n I had enough of you people, I don’t want nothin’, don’t want your money, don’t want to be on TV, don’t want to write no fucking book. Just leave.\n What do you mean you’re ‘just like me’? You ain’t just like me, not unless you’re 284 with ‘diabetus’, and a rash under your arms and between your thighs cause you rub together too much when you walk. You like that? Then you ain’t like me.\n What? You one of the others? Should have said so sooner. What did you get...Really? No Shit? Well, what do you want? Yeah I can tell you what its like, least…I can tell you what it’s been like so far. You know what it was like pre-op, so I’m just gonna skip all that. I got one question for you though. Did you get that fear everyday you were on the list? That it would be the day where you wouldn’t make it one more day? Good. Thought I might be the only one.\nDeirdre takes a moment to probe the area around her with one hand, never taking her eyes off of mine while she finds an ashtray not as overflowing as the rest and stubs out her finished smoke. She pulls another out of her pack, shakes it, to make sure it’s the last one inside and tosses the pack over the side of the chair.\n She lights the cigarette and her eyes close half-way. I can hear her drag on the smoke, and her body rises as she fills her new lungs with poisoned breath. When she hits the deepest part of her drag, she closes her eyes, tilts her head back and her body relaxes. Her face goes slack and she holds her breath for a minute. She exhales slowly, away from me, which I find as an oddly polite consideration from this girl. The cigarette is three-quarters ash. It’s pretty obvious now why her place is so crowded with ashtrays.\n What I didn’t think about before the operation was how much my life would stay the fucking same. I really thought pre-op that I would be lucky. Thought I’d move up the list, get a brand new set of lungs. Thought I’d get these new lungs and it would be a new me. That I’d wake up, get better and stop smoking, stop eating garbage…really make something of myself. I mean, look at this place, sure its mine, but what the fuck is that? A fucking trailer? This isn’t a home, it’s a God damned tractor trailer that somebody forgot to haul away one day.\n What a crock…I still smoke, hell…I smoke even more now. I really didn’t think that was possible. I still eat shitty stuff. Exercise? Twerp, look at me? Do you think I exercise? No, I don’t, and before you get that thought in your head about me being a lazy fat ass, let me tell you exactly what these things have done for me.\n All that operation has done has given me a few more years of this same bullshit life in this same bullshit trailer park. When they first told me, honestly I was sad, always had a crush on him. He had a tight little but on him. Used to love to see him on TV in that costume. I almost cried a little, but I knew it would hurt a lot if I cried and started suckin’ in air; the incision was so fresh I could feel it across the top of my gut like a snake.\n So they tell me, they tell me, guess what! Like I’d won some stupid lottery…Guess what! You got the All Americans’ lungs! You might have super powers! I was fucking scared, more scared than I was pre-op. What if I didn’t have powers? What if I died in like two seconds?\n They kept the press people away while I was in the hospital, but when I was wheeled to those doors two days later, yeah that’s right two days. Not weeks like they quoted me when they first talked to me about the double lung transplant. Two days and I was out of there. So when they wheel me to these doors, there are all these flashes and people just making noise. I couldn’t even understand their questions it was just a ton of noise. In the back of my head I’m thinking, “Dee”, that’s what I call myself, Dee never Deirdre…”Dee, they are gonna have your fat ass all over the news and everyone is just gonna make fun of you. You’re gonna be all over the damn net and you’ll be a joke.”\n I was scared shitless. So I did what any body would have done. I ran away, or at least, I tried to. Yeah. That was when I found out about those ‘awesome’ super-powers. I took two steps really fast, stumbled down the stairs and bowled over a bunch of skinny little reporters. I figured I tripped. So I get up, still figuring on running away. In a blink I’m at the end of the block. I mean it, a blink, that quick. Now, it’s not that I’ve never ran before, I’m just…opposed to it. I knew I wasn’t that fast. I panicked, screamed, and passed out.\n Twenty minutes later I wake up back in the hospital. I got real far with my awesome super-speed didn’t I? Heh heh. The nurses were really nice, but I could tell they pitied me. I know some of them had to be laughing, I mean c’mon! The fat girl gets super-speed? What kind of bullshit is that? Its like, some sort of karmic punishment; like the universe just said, “hey, don’t you think you could stand to lose a few?” Thanks Universe, you fuck.\n So this Doctor comes in, Doctor Big Bulge…that’s what I’m calling him anyway. Why? Cause, the guy stands right next to my head with pants that look like they’re two sizes too small in the junk, that’s why. I noticed.\n So Dr. BB starts guessing that the lungs are able to flood my body with oxygen, allow my muscles to stay oxygenated and basically keep me ‘in gear’. So Dr. BB tells me that I’ll have to learn how to control my movements, that I gotta basically master moving around again, fucktard. \n Two weeks later, and we’re replaying the same exit scene. I’m getting wheeled to the front door, some hospital policy so you can’t fall and sue, and there’s a crowd of press people outside. So I take a few steps out the door and they all rush me. Asking me, what happened to you before? Where have you been the last two weeks? Did the government take you for examination? Stupid questions like that. I had to get away from them.\n I was back here in my trailer before the gust of air died down on the live news feed. I was that fast, I covered about sixty miles, on foot in less than a second. You remember how fast he was right? I think I’m a little slower, but I’m not all super like him. OK, so, like I said, I got back here before the reporters’ hair stopped blowing around from my exit. I was so excited. I did it, two weeks of learning how to walk normal and I can run and control that speed. It was amazing, and it lasted for about six more seconds.\n Because it took six seconds for the pain to register, and that’s why I hate this damn power, why I think it’s a joke. I know what I look like, my size I mean, I’m not stupid. That’s part of the reason why I wanted to exercise after this transplant surgery, why I wanted to use this as a catalyst to turn my life around.\n At first, the pain was just a slight heat, like I was winded. I did think that was weird, here I am with super-hero lungs and I’m winded. I thought maybe I pushed myself too hard and that I was just a little out of breath. Then it started to spread, the heat was worst on my thighs, and under my arms and on my sides. Figure it out yet? Everywhere my body rubbed in that one second was on fire. Friction, friction that I would have every single time I moved at that speed. In minutes, my skin was raw and I was in so much pain I couldn’t move from this chair. It took me two days before I could move to the phone and call my doctor to come out and take a look at me.\n At this point, I don’t even think I can exercise. From what the doctors have said and what I’ve seen, I don’t need to exercise now. These lungs keep my system so oxygenated that they can supply my muscles with all the energy they’ll ever need. \n So here I am; I will always be this size. The super-speed I got from these lungs is wasted on me. Unless there is some frictionless material I can wear all the time, I can’t use the speed because of how badly I can hurt myself.\n I sit here day after day, watch my shows just like before the surgery and smoke even more. I’m not going to be a hero any time soon. ",
"With great power comes great responsibility\". The quote from spiderman never mad so much sense to him as he ran from the scene of his first thwarting towards the criminals that plagued his city. He swore that once he took hold of his power he would always help the little guy out. The little guy. His power? No one would expect a child to dish out a whipping. So no one saw him coming. By changing into the form of a child, every bad guy seemed a little less bad and a little more easier to deal with. His power as a man and intellect remained the same but his body transformed. Not one of the ideal powers he knew but nonetheless it was \"power\".",
"“Hi, my name is Steve, and I’ve been a Differently Powered Individual for three months.”\n\nThe crowd raised a murmur of “Hi, Steve.” Everyone was seated in a circle of folding chairs, except for Steve, who stood in front of his chair. He was new to the group, just having signed up through a website he found through Google. \n\n“Thanks, Steve. Can you tell us about a day in your life? It doesn’t have to be any specific day,” said the group’s chair, a middle-aged, blue-skinned woman named Patty.\n\n“Well, there’s really nothing special about it, but every now and then, usually in the morning or in the evening, my throat feels irritated, and I, uh, throw up a spider.”\n\n“How large is the spider?”\n\n“Well, it’s a different kind of spider every time, but they’re usually about this big.” Steve indicated a size of about three inches with his hands. “Sometimes there’s more than one.”\n\n“How often does this happen?”\n\n“About twice a day. Like I said, mainly at morning or night, but when I’m bored or nervous sometimes I HGRHGBGLLEAAHH.” Steve doubled over, the muscles in his neck straining. An overweight man seated next to Steve stood up and held him steady.\n\nSteve gave a final hacking “BLEUEGH” as a tarantula flew out of his mouth and landed on the linoleum floor with a wet plop. The man supporting Steve shrieked in fear and sprouted inch-long spines from his face. Two other group members jumped out of the way as the spider darted away across the floor, skittering into a far corner of the room.\n\n“Is everyone alright?” Patty asked the group, who nodded and settled back in their seats.\n\n“Um, thank you Steve. You can sit down now,” said Patty.\n\nSteve coughed again and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He sat back down.\n\n“Okay, now that Steve has introduced himself, I’d like everyone to pair up with the person to their left and get to know each other. There’s coffee on the back table.”\n\nChairs scraped across the floor as the group stood up and started to make small talk. Steve shook hands with the man who had held him up. The spikes slowly began to retract into his face.\n\n“Hi, Steve. Nice to meet you, I’m Gary.” \n\n“Hi, Gary, I’m really, really, *really* sorry about that.”\n\n“No promble. Happens to the best of us.”\n\n“… Actually, no it doesn’t. I’m the only person I know who pukes spiders.”\n\n“Yeah, but you get the point.”\n\nSteve shrugged.\n\n“Want to get some coffee?”\n\n“Sure.”\n\nSteve and Gary left the circle of chairs. They headed to the plastic folding table in the back, where coffee dispenser, a box of single-serving sugar packets, a bowl of creamer cups, and a stack of flyers sat on the surface. Gary filled a Styrofoam cup with coffee and poured in a packet of sugar.\n\n“So, what do you do?” Gary asked as Steve made his own cup.\n\n“I used to be a substitute teacher, but the first time I threw up a spider was in front of a middle school science class, and that scared the bejeezus out of them. I’m still looking for work right now.”\n\n“Harsh.”\n\n“I’m looking for something that doesn’t put me in front of a lot of people. Spiders really don’t help with first impressions,” Steve sighed.\n\n“Well, I’m a senior investment research consultant liaison at an AV equipment manufacturer. Essentially what I do is I act as a liaison to the people who consult the research into investment patterns for AV equipment manufacturing.” Gary took a sip of his coffee. “Can you pass me another sugar packet?”\n\n“Sure.” Steve passed Gary a packet. “Do you want some creamer, too?”\n\n“No thanks, I can’t.”\n\n“Lactose intolerant?”\n\n“No, I have an aura that physically repels dairy. Watch this,” Gary said as he outstretched his hand toward the bowl of creamer cups. The bowl slid across the table away from his hand.\n\nA muffled whinny sounded from behind the room’s door. The chatter in the room stopped, and a short, mousy girl excused herself from her conversation and opened the door. A horse stood in the doorway, stared at the girl, and pawed the ground. She waved her arms and repeated “Shoo! Shoo!” until the horse turned away and cantered off with a disappointed snort.\n\n“Excuse me everyone, but we’re just about out of time, so let’s close for the night,” Patty said, taking advantage of the silence. The group returned to their seats, coffee in hand. “Everybody, take a deep breath and repeat after me.”\n\nSteve breathed in. He could feel a little bit of bile still in his throat.\n\n“Even though we all have powers,” Patty said.\n\n“Even though we all have powers,” repeated the group.\n\n“They are not ‘superpowers’, and that’s OK.”\n\n“They are not ‘superpowers’, and that’s OK.”\n\n“We aren’t superheroes.”\n\n“We aren’t superheroes.”\n\n“But we can all be heroes to each other.” \n\n“But we can all be heroes to each other.”\n\n“If we all offer each other our support.”\n\n“If we all offer each other our support.”\n\n“Thank you for your time, we’ll be skipping next week’s meeting, because Dr. Firebolt will be dueling Lord Scorpion next week across the street at around 5:30.”"
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[WP] "Those eyes stared at me, accusing me. I thought what I did was right."
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"It’s been years since I’ve started working this case. I was just an ordinary detective in a New York precinct when I was offered the job. I jumped at the opportunity to go undercover. It had always been a dream of mine since I was a child. I remember back in the third grade when we would get those Scholastic Book Club catalogues once a month. I begged my mother to buy me the spy kit that came with these shitty binoculars with a listening device that worked up to 50 yards. Also in the kit were these edible notes that came with edible ink so you could read the secret message then consume the note. They were faintly sweet but mostly tasted like cardboard. The idea was decent, I guess, until you realize they’re pastel colored and looked nothing like actual paper. It was a different time, a different life.\n\nI’d been Frankie Bellini for so long, memories of before my transformation are now hazy. I used to enjoy maintaining a beard because I thought it made me look older. People were more likely to take a bearded cop seriously, or at least I read that in an article somewhere. Plus Carol liked it; she said she liked how it would tickle her when I kissed her, lips or otherwise. But then I became Frankie boy, dressed in beige seersucker suits year round, clean shaven with slicked back hair. I’m a product mover, or more like I oversee the product movers. Of course, in the community, I am the owner of the hottest club in town. But the money made per night on these youngsters’ debauchery was merely chump change. The real money was in the product. I probably moved over several hundred thousand dollars’ worth a week. So you could say I’m living pretty comfortably now. \n\nI liked my adoptive family. We were gruff, quick to anger, but we always had each other’s back in the tough times. Jerry was my favorite of the bunch. We had come up together as grunts under Salvatore, Al Bellini’s right hand man. Salvatore was a hard ass, nothing was ever good enough for him. Us grunts would go to the bar, drink ourselves fucking stupid swapping horror stories about the boss. But Jerry and I, we were special. We were just a little more efficient, a little more ruthless and it paid dividends. We were now Salvatore’s equals with our respective territories and veritable armies. Unfortunately, this also meant I saw him less but we’d still get together for a couple rounds of poker every now and then with the boys. I loved him like a brother with all the experiences we shared. Gunfights in which we’d fight back to back, later knocking back whiskey to numb the pain of our wounds. The way women would flock to us and even a couple we shared. They weren’t kidding when they said women were drawn to the bad boys. \n\nAs I became more Frankie and less myself, I let myself go. Carol would understand, wouldn’t she? That it was a job and I needed to fit in? They had warned me about this. About getting in too deep, about losing my sense of self. But I am but one man…or am I two? I had trouble reconciling the things I did as Frankie with my original self. But what if Frankie was who I’d always been on the inside? I would have these thoughts as I stared at the photo of Carol in my locket. Her wavy brunette hair, the wide nose, that impish smile as if full of mischief, and finally her eyes, deep oceans of blue that betrayed her every emotion. Perhaps that’s why I loved her, why I trusted her so much, those telling eyes always telling the truth.\n\n“Detective Frank Piccone, do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” The declaration of the oath snapped me out of my reverie.\n\nPlacing my left hand upon the bible held in front of me, I raised my right hand and answered, “Yes.”\n\nAfter my testimony was finished, I slumped into the witness’ chair. The uncomfortable hard wood propped me up, pressing against my back. I imagined it to be tough love, as I finally got the courage to look up at Jerry. Jerry, my brother whom I had wronged. His chiseled face looked tired and his lips were thinly pursed. The usual slicked back hair was gone as hair gel isn’t exactly a part of the prison inventory. What remained unchanged was his constant five o’clock shadow, the last vestige of the virile gorilla that was my brother in arms. His eyes, they stared at me with reproach, the browns cooler than before. He wasn’t even angry anymore, if he ever was. I could read the disappointment and betrayal on his face. He was an open book as well, a man who let his loyalties be known. His eyes mirrored Carol’s when I recounted everything to her, as if to ask ‘why.’ The two I loved most in the world, the two I had hurt most. Their eyes stared accusingly until I could only look away. I thought I had done the right thing.\n\n(This is actually for a writing class I'm currently taking but I was inspired by this prompt so thank you.)",
" When I was a child, my obsession was stuffed bears. It started with my first blanket. A gift for me by my crazy Aunt Margo, it was a contorted combination of blanket and bear; with the head and arms of a stuffed bear that abruptly changed to a flat, linen, lower half which I could only assume had been crushed by the sixteen-wheeler in which it was delivered to the cushy corner store my aunt had bought it from, I grew up swaddled in its mutilated grip. \n The obsession quickly changed to Care Bears. My collection outshined gay pride parades with its wide array of bears, all rainbow, cuddly, and caring.\nMy obsession ended the day I came to build-a-bear. With loving care, I chose the incredible soft panda to be my new best friend. I stuffed him in the loving, firm manner with which many like to be stuffed. I outfitted him in the finest of fashions, a dapper corduroy set of overalls. A quick look at the amateur assembly of bits and bobbles by the toddler next to me affirmed that I had indeed chosen the best of pals. \n A sharp call from mother called me away from the assembly station. It had been my first time to build-a-bear, and I happily came along to the checkout. With a final glance behind me at my compatriot in the assembly line, I noticed a detail that I had missed. The final ingredient.\n Like seeing Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom in reverse, I watched in horror as the child plunged a blood red heart deep into the chest cavity of his brown bear. I looked down into the eyes of the friend I had betrayed, whose heart I had lost along my journey, and received the most gutting, piercing stare into my soul that I had ever received. My balls shriveled, and the deepest cockles of my heart expelled whatever loving juices had remained in their muscular crevices. \n Those eyes stared at me, accusing me. I thought what I did was right. The moral of the story is, don’t be a douchebag who forgets to put a heart in a build-a-bear. \n"
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[WP] you work at a dead end job. One day, you get promoted to manager. You are given an envelope by a man in a suit, and told that your salary will now be $3 million a year. Everything you need to know about your new position is in the envelope. You open the envelope...
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"\nThe tan envelope was at least an inch thick, it laid heavy on the desk of your cubical as you stared at your monitor engrossed in your work. You had been on your way to work your 9-5 minimum wage job when the secretary had stopped you at the door and given you this Manila envelope with your name sharpied onto it. When you asked who had left it, he shrugged his shoulders, his tailored suit exaggerated the movement. He said it had been left on his desk yesterday but you had taken the day off so he had kept it for you. So you had assumed it was your new assignment; your boss had been waiting to put you on it too make sure you could handle it. About time he started trusting you, the bastard. Sometimes you just wanted to kill him so you wouldn't have to deal with him anymore.\nWhen you reached your desk you pulled the thick stack of papers out and glanced over them. After the first page you snorted and rolled your eyes, shoving the papers back into the envelope and chucking it off to the side of your desk. It was nothing more than a joke. A fake assignment left by some unknown shitty jester. You noticed a small post-it on the bottom said 'shall you choose to accept this assignment your payment shall be:...' The corner had been folded up do you couldn't see the rest. you flipped down the edge hiding the no doubt childish punch line. \"3 mil a year?\" Come ON, at least use a somewhat realistic number. These halfwit pranksters seriously needed to step up their game.\nThe envelope had then sat untouched on the back of your desk for around a week, it had been forgotten underneath a few other envelopes containing your real assignments, given to you the following day. As you reached the bottom of the stack, you reopened it on accident, thinking it a new assignment. You read the first page again and only when you reached the end did you remember last weeks whole prank thing. You almost threw it in the bin when you noticed there was still something in the envelope. You pulled it out and it was a quarter sized round black platform with a small silver switch on it. Curious you reread the 'assignment': \n'To whom it may concern; \nBlah blah blah, You have been analyzed by our specialists and we are pleased to inform you that you fit the requirements for a high position in blah blah blaaaaaah you have been selected based on your history.' \nHistory in what, you wondered. Whatever, here is where it gets really sci-fi style cheesy. \n'It has been determined that you are the only one of our knowledge competent enough to blah this important blah blah, your task is simple; over the past hundred years we have been developing sensitive technology capable of transporting anyone a short amount of time into the past.' Wow how comedic. An 8 year old could write a better premise. How did they even type an inch of 'instructions' for such a shitty cliché? Seriously, how overdone it the time traveler schtick? You skimmed about two more pages of 'history' before finding what the hell the switch was. You guessed it must be the magic time traveler machine thing. 'To complete this mission simply turn on the unit and flick the switch. Once completed, continue reading for further instruction on destruction of the target.' Called it. You guess destroying this target was the assignment. What a stupid joke. \nYou flipped the switch for the hell of it. Nothing happened, obviously. \nYou chucked the whole lot in the bin, continuing on your work. It was almost the end of the day and you needed to answer the wall of emails you had received. \nMid-email, you realized you hadn't actually turned the switch on first like the assignment had said. It was stupid, you know, but you wanted to see what the switch did. It probably was an alarm or something. Ready to screech at you when you flicked it. \nOut of intense curiosity you dug it all out and wiped off yesterday's muffin crumbs. Setting the papers on your lap you turned the switch over in your hands until you found the nigh invisible button on the side. You nudged it on with your nail and wondered why you were even doing this. You again flicked the switch and... Again, nothing happened. You glanced around the office, everything was perfectly normal. What were you even expecting?\nYour watch beeps suddenly, telling you it's time to go home, so you get up, shoving the assignment and switch into your messenger bag. On your way out the secretary catches your eye, not because he was doing anything odd, but he had been wearing the brightest neon yellow scarf this morning. It had made you want to throw up and you wished someone would strangle him with it. Noticing the scarf had made you remember his outfit, and he had definitely (thank god) changed clothes.\nYou asked if he had spilled something on his clothes and he confusedly said he hadn't. He asked why you were here, wasn't it your day off? You laughed. \"I just took a day off. You laughed.\" The secretary looked even more confused. He assures you today, Tuesday, was your day off. You tell him that was over a week ago and that it wasn't Tuesday, it was Wednesday. He starts to say something else but you realize this must be phase 2 of the time traveling 3 million dollar job prank. 'Hey let's all pretend it's last week so we can play a dumb prank' how moronic. Everyone could just leave you alone or go die in a hole. The secretary wasn't done talking but you left without a word anyway. Serves him right. \nYou always walk home from work and everyday, halfway to your apartment, you stop and buy a paper. You greet the newsstand owner as you do everyday and continue with the paper under your arm. After another block you pull it out at a stoplight and read the headlines. You notice you had received last weeks paper. \nNope. \nSomeone had officially taken this prank waaaaay too far. You were done. Seeking affirmation you stop a completely random passerby and ask them what day it is. Tuesday, they say. \nGoddam it. \nYou kind of start doubting yourself a little and sort of freak out. Only a little bit though. Time travel is completely fake and isn't real, you tell yourself. If it is real (which it isn't) you would see yourself in your apartment in just a minute, you rationalized. \nYou rushed the last block home and raced up the stairs, slowing down as you neared your apartment. Your heart thuds and you crouch low, creeping slowly towards the window. \nEdit: (continued)\nYou slowly raise your head to peer into your apartment window. You can't see anything. Obviously. Like you had said; Time travel is completely fake and isn't real. You were about to stand up when something inside moved. The bathroom door opened and... You stepped out? Okay this was not happening, you weren't going to deal with this. You turned on your heels and headed straight back down the stairs towards the local pub. \nOnce there, drink in hand, you faced what had just occurred. You had definitely just seen ...yourself. Meaning this stupid time travel prank had the potential of actually being not a prank. It was just so hard to believe the time traveler schtick was actually happening, of all the overused clichés possible. \nNot knowing what to do, you pulled out the envelope again and read it for a third time. 'The assignment if you wish to accept it involves going back in time one week (estimated) and eliminating a future mass murder before he has the chance to become such.'\nOf all the cheesy plots, this was definitely the worst. You kept reading anyway. 'The target in question in to be eliminated in their sleep; address is listed on page ten. Once objective is complete, lie low for one week before receiving payment by postage.' Okay you weren't going to kill someone for money you didn't even know exited. You shoved it back into your bag and had a few more drinks, debating what to do. After a few hours it was starting to get dark out. \nYour judgment was impaired so You decided what the hell, let's go kill someone. A bit of a shitty excuse, but what the hell. You found page 10 and tried focusing on the words. You found the address by skimming. It took you a minute to figure out why the address was familiar when you realized it was your own address. ",
"The tan envelope shook as Tony's hands twitched from excitement. For ten years he had worked his hardest in game design while watching slobs and all-around dickheads be promoted. But now it was his turn. He *cared* about games. Loved them. He reached his \"office\", if you could call it that, and slowly put the envelope on the table, as if it would shatter, and got his Master Sword letter opener. Pushing work from his desk Tony felt energy coursing through his veins. He had so many ideas. He wanted to make gaming an art form, not time wasting hobby. Gingerly cutting it open he pulled it out. A lone tear rolled down his cheek as he read it.\n**\"LOL GET REKT! YOU'VE BEEN PRANKED!\"** \n\n\nGod he hated working at EA. "
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[WP] You are all that stands between a logging company and Yggdrasil.
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"The logger sighed, peering up at the lone figure, and lowered her axe, instead raising the megaphone again. \"Sir. Please. You'll have to come down. We appreciate your concern, but we're not going to hurt the tree! It's too big to - I am pretty sure the tree is actually infinitely large. It either represents or contains the entire cosmos. Louis, did we ever figure out which one it is?\" The logger turned to her nearest co-worker, who simply shrugged. \"Well, it's one of those two. We can cut out as much wood as we want, it won't make a difference, and there's nothing even near this branch anyway. Think of what we could do with an infinite amount of wood!\"\n\n\"Yes, well\", the lone protestor huffed. \"This is a matter of principle.\"",
"It is sad to be the last of your kind. The last follower of a long dead religion in the age of smartphones and Starbucks; the only person that can still hear the voice of the All-Father. No one believes me when I explain the secrets of the world to them. The old ways are lost and are not coming back. This new age of technology have overshadowed the era of trolls and goblins but they are still there if you know where to look. \n\nThis era, so smug with their scientists and logic, think that all of the old religions have went the way of the dinosaur. How little do they know of the nature of existence and the secret ways of the world. The Old Magic is the firmament that holds the universe together and modern society is destroying Earth's last link to that ancient power. I am the only thing standing in the way of the destruction of the sacred tree. I have tried to explain to them what would happen if this tree dies. They think I am crazy and explain to me that I don't own the land anymore. I was never the true owner, just the caretaker. No believes in myth or legends anymore but belief is not needed for the legends to be true. To be true and dangerous. \n\nRain drips off the brim of my hat as I watch men in hard-hats and florescent vests taking their ease around a dormant bulldozer. They must think I am another tree hugging loony-tune trying to protect mother earth. I am a protector of sorts, the last of a long line and the most incompetent. The men by the bulldozer have no idea what will happen the moment this tree dies. Armageddon the followers of the White Christ would call it, I and the chosen before me have another name for the end of the world, Ragnarok. \n\nThe loggers start to gather as blue uniformed police come on to the scene, it was almost time for them to get to work. As soon as Johnny Law arrested me the chainsaws would start and the world tree would die. The ignorance of these men and my own addiction will be the sparks that start the fire on the funeral pyre of humanity. \n",
"Douglas Robbins, fully nude, stood reflecting upon the exceptional job he had done of tying himself to the tree. The knot at his waist was an impenetrable Gordian clump of 26-millimeter rope that felt like a fist to the gut and was impossible for anyone to untie but him; the tree was an unimaginably tall Fitzroy cypress; the man was a pigeon-chested, paste-white urbanite whose feet were starting to itch from ant bites. He heard other sets of footsteps stomping through the underbrush in a gait that could only belong to members of the Ferris Hogg Logging Company - Lynette, with all the environmental protests she bragged about attending, wouldn't be caught dead disrespecting something as probably sacred as a forest floor. She also wouldn't dare to show up to something on time. Douglas turned his head a few degrees toward the sound, hoping and dreading a confrontation.\n\n\"Been a while since I dealt with one a these,\" a heavy voice sighed mucoidally. He sounded like someone with a moustache. Douglas shuddered at the prospect.\n\n\"With what?\" Douglas challenged the moustache. \"A man of principle?\"\n\n\"Someone thinks tying his damn self to a tree will - Christ.\" He had seen the *pièce de résistance,* Douglas thought, smiling inwardly, as several groans rose from some unseeable place to his right. \"Look at yourself. You could have worn trousers.\"\n\nDouglas shook his head, initially to disagree, but continuing upon feeling the tree's bark scratch at a bug bite on the scalp of the rear of his skull. It felt almost medically soothing. \"I could have done no such thing. I am a protector of Nature - the only one for miles, it seems - and I must accept Nature's embrace, else I reject her completely.\" He tilted his head. \"And you're here to kill her, aren't you?\"\n\nThe logging crew stepped into Douglas's view. There was no mustache on the talkative one, but he did have a conspicuous smear of jam on the side of his halitotic mouth that confirmed all sorts of suspicions. \"I'm doing what I'm paid to do,\" Ferris Hogg said pointedly. \"This your job, too, then? Standing around with no clothes on, keeping people from making money?\"\n\n\"It is not,\" Douglas said condescendingly, \"but if it were, I expect that I would do so admirably.\"\n\n\"I bet you could,\" the foreman said. \"Why don't you go employ your services elsewhere, actually, and let me and my men get to doing what we're meant to?\" This was met with several sharp nods.\n\nDouglas felt sweat prick up at his hairline as his eyes flitted to the saws. These were unscrupulous people, willing to destroy at will and at random; who could guess whether they would stop at sawing through the rope, through him? Is this what Lynette contended with? Maybe he had been harsher to her in their correspondence than she deserved.\n\n\"Ferris,\" Douglas began, pretending at confidence.\n\n\"My name's Todd,\" the logger corrected him.\n\nDouglas spoke over the complaint. \"As I'm sure you don't know, this tree happens to be of the utmost importance. Thousands of years ago -\"\n\n\"Houses. A neighborhood. Concrete foundations, electric lines, sewage pipes, telephone cables. That's what's important, that's what's going here, and if you'd rather not end up in the ground with all those, that's what you should let us lay the groundwork for.\" The loggers behind Ferris shifted eagerly, picking up their tools and taking a few steps forward.\n\n\"Please,\" Douglas said, \"you're making a mistake. This specimen - tell me,\" he wiped sweat from his brow, the knot hitting him in the ribs with every rapid breath, Lynette's jeering face burned into his mind, \"have any of you ever chanced upon a copy of the Prose Edda? Had someone read it to you, perhaps, if you aren't of a literate persuasion, or -\"\n\nTwo men set up footstools on either side of Douglas. Grabbing opposite ends of a long crosscut saw, they placed its teeth against the bark above the nude man's head.\n\nSomewhere, an eagle shrieked.\n\n\"Go home,\" grumbled Ferris.\n\n\"Listen to me!\" Douglas cried, as dirt and lichen fell into his eyes. \"This tree holds together our reality!\"\n\n\"Untie yourself and go home,\" Ferris repeated lowly.\n\nThe men scraped the length of the saw across the trunk. Douglas screamed.\n\nThough they would not see it for another eight minutes, far above them all, the sun turned black.",
"I punched the company's number into my cell phone, furious. How could they *do* this?! I hadn't given them permission! By the Gods, I had been given one job, and up until now I had performed it to perfection.\n\n\"Hello. You're speaking wi--\"\n\n\"Take me to your manager,\" I demanded, rasping into the receiver. \"Tell him 'Hippie-Boy' wants to speak with him.\"\n\nThe phone went silent as it was put on hold. Gods, *Hippie-Boy.* Of course I'd get nicknamed that. If only the corporate fool I'm trying to stop would take a step back and realize, no, I'm not defending Yggdrasil because *nature, ooooh;* I'm defending it because it's KEEPING THE WORLD ALIVE, then maybe we could get somewhere.\n*Ugh.*\n\nI calmed my breathing. I had been practically snorting into the phone. Wouldn't have been the best impression for him to pick up his gold-encased fancy office phone to some guy snorting like a pig.\n\n... Eh, we were past first impressions. I'd only had to deal with his stupid ass about ten times, now. I went back to expunging obnoxiously loud breaths into the receiver.\n\nIt fizzled to life in moments. \"Hell...\" Big Boss stopped, then sighed. \"Hey, Hippie. What's cookin' this time? Now, don't tell me it's about that tree.\"\n\n\"I don't think you understand.\" I drummed my fingers on my leg nervously. I was seated on a park bench right in front of Yggdrasil. I could practically feel it judging me, borderline *threatening* me to do this right. \"The tree you want to remove from the park is not just a tree. It's... it's...\"\n\n\"What is it now,\" he asked sardonically, \"the supposed favorite hangout of all your friends? If you have any, that is. Last time you called, you said your mother planted that tree herself, and it was dear to her. Time before that, you said *you* had planted it. And the time before *that,* you said that you owned the tiny circle of land it's planted on. Sorry, buddy, but all of those were false.\"\n\nI felt distress pulsing off Yggdrasil in waves. \"You don't understand! You can't cut this tree down! It's been here since... since the world was *created!*\"\n\nHe laughed. It came out fuzzy and cacophonous from the shitty cellphone speakers. \"That's new. Listen, bud, Hippie-Boy. Cutting down that tree means money. It means renovations. It means a prettier city. That old thing is practically scaring visitors away with its gnarled old branches.\n\n\"Tell ya' what. If you let us cut it down and quit calling the place every damn day, I'll give you a specially-picked tree *of your choice* that you can plant anywhere in the whole blazin' city. I'll hand it to you myself. Take a good hour or two out of my infinitely busy day *just* to give you a li'l gift. Hmm?\"\n\nI gritted my teeth. \"It's Yggdrasil!\"\n\nA passerby stopped in his walk to give me a quizzical look. I ignored him, staring right at Yggdrasil, hoping, praying. \n\nAfter what felt like hours of silence, a low chuckle began to sprout from the phone. It grew higher and higher pitched as I listened, horrified. When it spoke again, it was a woman's voice. \"Oh, you silly little mortal.\"\n\nI felt my breath catch in my throat. \"He... H-Hela...?!\"\n\n\"Goddess of death and rebirth, Lady of the Underworld, and, if you may think so, insane,\" she breathed into the phone, and her words almost seemed to strangle me. \"After all, who wouldn't go insane after thousands up thousands of years doing nothing but watching over the Underworld? I seek a... *new* kind of death. A more interesting one for all the world to partake in. It will be followed by the most glorious rebirth of existence, as we gods band together to create a new world; an infinitely more interesting one.\"\n\nI felt Yggdrasil screaming for help inside of me. Where were the gods?! Why had they not stopped her?!\n\n\"Sadly, you won't be able to see this glorious rebirth. You are but a lowly mortal charged in the service of powers you don't understand half as well as you think you do.\" Her voice poured from the phone in a waterfall of destruction, blood, carnage.\n\nI heard the rumble of construction machinery from down the road.\n\n\"If you resist, Hippie-Boy, I've given my little underlings specific orders to run you over. And they *will* follow my commands. Farewell, foolish one.\"\n\nThe phone clicked off.\n\nThe cacophony of machinery grew louder as it approached the park.",
"Great masses of metal machinery roll towards me with thunderous roars. The great tree stands behind me, clawing at the sky with pleading arms, praying for help as the convoy closes in. I watch the the first truck barrel towards me, weighing a few dozen tonnes at least. \"The new equipment must've arrived,\" I said to myself, picturing in my mind my tragic end as the Green Peace version of the Tienanmen Square guy, blood and guts crushed into the forest floor. A heroic death, but...\n\n\"F**k this. Thor can deal with it.\"",
"“They are coming.”\n\nHeimir’s voice is deep and resonant, shaking the earth beneath my feet. My fingers wrap around the iron handle of my sword, clenching hard, and I nod. “I know.” The jotunn lifts his own weapon, a massive hammer that’s twice my height and probably weighs more than Freyn, my war-horse, and slams it into the ground. He chuckles. “They will all die.”\n\nI do not reply. Glancing left and right, I behold our last stand – a paltry force of some three hundred humans and several dozen jotnar, against an army of hundreds of thousands. Heimir catches the direction of my gaze, reads the skepticism in my eyes, and dismisses my unspoken reply with a shake of his massive icy head. “The gods will grant us the strength to prevail.”\n\nIt’s strange, I think, to hear faith in the gods from a jotunn’s gaping maw, his breath crystallizing the air even as he speaks. But it’s somehow right. It’s one of the only things that's been right since the Rift opened and delivered unto us the incredible knowledge that humankind existed outside the bounds of the Tree. We had feasted then, praised Odin and Thor in our revels, drunk mead and consumed meat in celebration of the greatest discovery the gods had seen fit to visit upon us. And, when the first human from Other-Earth crossed the boundary into our world, we rejoiced at the possibility of transdimensional peace and prosperity.\n\nAnd then the rest of them emerged, dressed in strange armor and riding metal war-horses and wielding iron staves that spat fire and death. Many gore-crows ate their fill that day, that fateful day burned into memory by the blood of the fallen. The Others spoke our language, but they did not share our dreams of peace. They did not care for anything except the resources they could extricate from our fertile soil.\n\nBut, worst of all, they did not worship the gods.\n\nAt first, the Rift-War had been brutal. The Others swarmed over the earth, slaughtering anything that moved or breathed, with only the human armies, woefully underequipped and outnumbered, to oppose them. But when the Others struck at Jotunheim, the jotnar set out to defend their land, and at the Battle of Niflheim, human and jotunn fought on the same side for the first time in ancient history. The Alliance had been forged, and it was a simple matter then to recruit the remaining races to the cause.\n\nFor a time, it looked as if we stood a chance. We managed to hold out against the Others’ armies as they besieged cities and towns, and, when the gods descended from Asgard to join in the combat, we even managed to regain lost land. I’d met Heimir during the Battle of Midgard when Thor himself had singlehandedly destroyed a legion of our foes with the power of his legendary hammer Mjolnir; the jotunn had saved my life by tearing apart a group of the Others who had snuck up on the warriors I was leading.\n\nThen, as victory seemed within our reach, the tides turned. The Others, it seemed, had powerful magic of their own; white-and-silver cylinders powered by arcane fire had emerged from the Rift and, flying high above our forces, swept forth and struck Jotunheim. The blast had immolated most of the jotnar on impact and caused those who had not been slain initially to die from a strange illness. Even as we struggled to recover from the catastrophic losses, the Others turned their strange weapon to Asgard. From then on, no gods emerged to aid us in our battles.\n\nIt’s with this in mind that I turn to Heimir again. “The gods have forsaken us,” I say, the words harsh in the early morning air. The jotunn makes no response, instead preferring to pivot so as to better see our demise approaching.\n\nThey emerge from over the horizon, a sea of metal that gleams in the sunrise and sparkles deceptively, as if they did not mean to slaughter us all in order to bring down the Great Tree itself and end this war. Iron birds swoop overhead in mesmerizing patterns. Occasionally one of our warriors attempts to shoot one down, but they move much too fast to be vulnerable to ordinary arrows.\n\nThere’s no preamble. No leader steps forward to deliver a grand address, no horn is blown to signal the attack. Instead, the Others pause once before the spectacle that is Yggdrasil, stop to take in the beauty and splendor of the scene.\n\nOr perhaps they stop simply to load their weapons, for it’s then that the first metal stick spits fire over our heads, lighting the Tree aflame. Yggdrasil groans, a shattering rumble that resonates through my bones as the fire catches.\n\nHeimir does something peculiar then. As flaming bits of the Tree rain down around us, he raises his massive hand and extends it towards me. I take it, though my own hand is barely the size of one of his fingers.\n\n“Frelwyn…” he rumbles. “It was an honor.”\n\nThen, bellowing, Heimir flings himself headlong into the fray, exhaling icy breath and swinging his hammer. I shout my own war cry and Freyn lunges forward, closing the distance between me and the Others in a blink of an eye.\n\nAnd then we’re upon them.",
"It was the first time I'd come out of hiding in decades. No centuries. The gossip spread as fast as a hummingbird's wingbeat, but no one actually believed the rumor. People had such a fondness for maintaining and keeping things that were considered \"historical\" and \"ancient.\" I, thankfully, did believe the rumors. I contended that many of them were inclined to destroy anything in their path, so long as they felt they were capable of it. While a few others agreed with me, they claimed the humans would do something about it. Nature seemed to always manage to sway a few humans to protect her. I, thankfully, knew that they were wrong this time. \n\nI climbed out of the boughs of my tree home and slid carefully into the hiding hole beneath the roots. Just as I'd anticipated, a group of men were surveying the area with their brows furrowed and mumbling gibberish to each other. \n\nMonths passed before they even seemed prepared to actually go forth with their plan. Not that I'd not been helping to delay them. The second time I saw the men with their writing utensils and papers, I leapt at them from the highest branches of a Linden tree in the form of a white wolf. I didn't harm them, as that was against our ways, but they were certainly frightened away. Though, that didn't seem to stop them from coming back.\n\nWhen the group grew larger, I coaxed a pack of wolves to help me defend the sacred tree. We chased them out of the forest and many of them ended up getting injured when they tried to fight back. My howl echoed in the cold winds that followed them, hoping it would chill their hearts enough to keep them from coming back. But these men were persistent. \n\nThey soon began cutting down the forest, even tearing my own home apart. Instead of staying to help, the rest of my people fled. They said there was no reason to intervene. Nature would stop them, they told me. I couldn't believe their cowardice. \n\nIt wasn't long before they started bringing their machines. Quite a few of the wolves feared the machines, and refused to help. Though I understood, I was saddened that another group had chosen to abandon me. When the men began working the forest with their machines, I took on the form of a great eagle and brought forth my avian allies to combat the ignorant humans. We took from them their tools and sailed away to drop them in places they would never hope to find. But, they still returned.\n\nBy now, the men were becoming more hostile. When I and the eagles fell on them again, they attacked us this time. Many of the men where injured during the altercation, but their onslaught took the lives of some of us. They still fled, but the eagles would no longer battle at my side. \n\nI heard the men whisper in their incomprehensible language. At a point, one of them even spotted me sabotaging their equipment. He shrieked and called me \"älva\" before fleeing their working site. I don't know what it meant, but the next day other men were whispering it too. It seemed to instill a sort of fear and hesitance in them and a large number of the men did not return the next day. Still, more came back.\n\nTheir machines had devoured much of my beautiful home. The trees left were mangled, the bushes left trampled, and the ground trodden dirt that smeared across their boots. She had not fallen yet though, but they were encroaching upon her. Though I tried to chase them off in my many forms and sabotaged their things, they continued trying. Were they so determined about protecting nature, I would have my attempts to stop the destruction look pitiful in comparison. \n\nNo longer than a week passed after they wiped a thick swath of my land into oblivion, that they were onto her. Their eyes were those of ravenous wolves and their voices seemed to hunger for whatever they'd gain from destroying it. I had to make my final move before they made theirs. I called forth the creatures remaining that were willing to help: the bears, the deer, the boars, the hawks, the owls, the geese, and even a small number of rodents. We were by no means an invincible front, but we were all that remained to stop them. I rallied the army and we attacked the men, forcing many to flee from the area. \n\nThe onslaught, though short, took many of ours. The men were vicious and the men were angry. They seemed incensed that we would take from them their \"right\" to claim the world, and that was an ignorance that could not be fought easily. And while we'd accomplished our goal of running them off, they would return. They always returned. \n\nIn the morning, the men had returned again to commence destroying her. It was sometimes a wretched thing, human tenacity. My friends would not come, for they were mourning the loss of their brothers. I was not bothered by their unwillingness to fight; had I not my principles and fortitude, I'd have given up as well. No, I was worried, more like. Fearful that I would not be able to stop them. \n\nThankfully, their progress was slow. Even the more stubborn of the men seemed apprehensive, concerned. I watched on feeling proud, I'm ashamed to say. By nature, I was a peaceful spirit, but seeing them quake at the thought of my intervention was satisfying. Anything would make do so long as it worked. However, that didn't save me from what the men were so eager to do. \n\nThe thump of the ax sinking into the wood echoed louder than a scream in a cave. Everything in the vicinity became immediately silenced, and further on the sounds of the forest ceased. Slowly, a blood-curdling scream could be heard ringing through the still air moments after the steel entered the bark, and for a long time I didn't realize it had escaped from my lips. My knees were deep in the dirt and my hands clutched onto the earth to keep me from falling off of it. Every human in the area had become ghostly-white as their eyes searched for the source of the sound that they'd never find. I could feel all the vibrations in the ground, not a single thing moved. \n\nI rose to my feet, the only thing in the forest moving now. I glared down from the branches of Yggdrasil, rending all the men into quivering field mice. My ghastly luminescence was golden and ethereal. My eyes wept raindrops and behind me whisked a whirling wind that tousled the men like a wheat field. \n\n**\"How dare you come here and sully that which is most sacred?\"** My voice was a thunderstorm; my body was made of lightning. **\"You would end the world for whatever pittance you get for destroying it? Had I the power, I would rend you all from this plane to live as immortals in a world of suffering akin to what you have dealt us!\"** The men cowered now, sinking into the dirt they were not even worthy of. I doubt they even understood the words I spoke, but the meaning did not escape them With a sweep of my hands, I knocked them off their feet with a gale. As soon as they were up again, they were running away shouting and sobbing, hopefully back to their homes. Despite my fury, I would still not kill them. They had families and people who cherished them, no matter what sort of horrific monsters they were. Once my energy was spent, I returned to the size of my natural self and walked over to the tree. Through my sobs, I could see that the wound was superficial and knew she would heal herself over time. She would be fine, she'd seen larger scrapes before. Those men would likely never return, nor their children or their children's children, but somewhere along the line their descendants would come to take her believing that what had happened here was a myth or some sort of hyperbole. That was all right though, because nature would \nstop them. *I* would stop them.\n",
"The bell of the church tolls for the twelfth time. I look out my window and see the congregates of St. Michael's pour out of the large wooden doors. The Catholics of my town, my very small German town had just finished their Sunday mass. I see my mother and father in the long list of locals that I know, and I know they wished I was there with them but we've had the discussion a lot, and they know how I feel about their God and their ways. I turn back to my task, truing the spokes of my Giant mountain bike that I picked up from an ex police officer last time I was in Berlin. It wasn't the most fun you could have with a bicycle, but it was peaceful, and gave me time to listen to the radio. \n\nAfter hearing the news on the local station I was speechless. They found it.\n\nYggdrasil. Tree of Odin, the gods of old and the hidden connection that could provide the answer of if we are alone in this world, found in the black forest outside my own window.\n \nBut what I heard next... What I heard next made my eyes burn, and made my heart drop. The clergy of the church, St Michael's, were the ones that came across it,\n\nand they were cutting it down. \n\nIn that moment, I felt a burning in my eyes, rage swelling in my stomach. The tree that survived Charlemagne's conquest to rid the world of Odin and replace it with his false god is going to be cut down. The Catholics wasted no time, and they would finish what they failed to do before\n\nBut then I feel a sense of logic fall over me. How can any of this even be real? How is this not a joke, or a hoax of some sort anyway? If it isn't, and this is the tree of the gods than the clergy must of undeniable truth of it's power, to even admit for a second that another realm of gods are real.\n\nI need to go see for myself and if it is true then... Well, I really don't know because at the moment I have no rational idea of how any of this can be real.\n\nIn that moment, I find myself truing my wheels faster then I have ever trued in my life\n\n\n---- Okay so I'm going to stop there unless someone want's me to continue. I feel like it's written pretty sloppy and don't know if anyone will find it interesting. let me know ----"
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[WP] One day, you find out theres an upcoming apocalypse. You can save people, but in order to do that, they have to believe from the bottom of their hearts that the apocalypse is coming. Unfortunetely, only the nut cases believed you. Write a journal detailing the first week in rebuilding the world
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"July 16th 2017: Scratch that, January First 0001. There that sounds better. Well the apocalypse came and went exactly as I foretold. I tried my hardest to convince everyone through any means necessary the internet, television, preaching, hell I even bought a shit ton of billboards (not one of my better ideas). It seems he only people I was able to convince are batshit crazy, I mean drinking the Kool-Aid crazy. Here let me give you an example, Janice one of the first people I convinced of the oncoming collapse of civilization, still thinks her beanie baby collection is gonna be worth something one day. EVERYONE IS FUCKING DEAD JANICE.\n\nJanuary 2nd 0001: This is just total bullshit, was it really worth saving these people? I shouldn't have said anything at least I could spend the apocalypse in peace and quiet. I guess I should use this journal to start chronicling the “Great Rebuild” of human society. Yea because that's gonna happen with these fuckwits, they spend 8 hours a day chanting random words that they made up to praise the “Glorious Leader” aka me. In total I have saved a little over 2000 of these nutjobs, and was unanimously elected to lead them, yea I kid you not it was 2065 votes to 0. \n\nJanuary 3rd 0001: This is hopeless. 3 days into my NWO and my people are already practicing human sacrifices. Jesus Christ 4 days ago half of them where still tweeting and facebooking each other, now we are already regressing to the dark ages.",
"\"You're Jesus.\"\n\n\"I'm Jesus.\"\n\nAlfredo's best friend paused, wondering what he was doing.\n\n\"Show me your hands.\"\n\n\"Dude, it's been 3000 years-\"\n\n\"You mean 2000.\"\n\n\"What?-- Never mind, look.\"\n\nPhil was not amused. He was tired of holding the door open and decided to let his friend in. \"Look man if this is about Mary,\"\n\n\"God damn it Phil this isn't about Mary I'm trying to save you here.\"\n\n\"From what? Taking my girl and ignoring me for three years? How did you even get here?\"\n\n\"I ran.\"\n\n\"Very funny. Did you turn the plane water into wine?\"\n\n\"No but-\" Alfredo caught himself, \"listen this same thing happened last time, all the cool people just didn't believe me so my Dad only saved the weirdo's. It would be really cool if you could come to heaven with me man.\"\n\n\"You're out of your mind.\"\n\n\"Just think about it?\"\n\n\"No!\"\n\n\"Literally all you have to do is believe me! I'm Jesus for Christ's sake, people come to *me* to cleanse their sins.\"\n\n\"Dude I'm not going to heaven with you. There is no heaven.\"\n\n\"You're making this real hard. Wait... did I tell you I can do miracles?\""
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Sorry for poor formatting of title posting via a phone is unfriendly.
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[WP] God is just a children's story line the boogy man or Santa Claus. Your kid is asking for a bedtime story about him.
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"\"One about God this time! You said you'd tell me the story!\" he bit his nails in anticipation. \nJoss, at age 7, knew there was no God. No man in the clouds. But that wasn't the point. He knew there was something... a small thread that ran from torso to torso. A month ago he'd seen it ebbing off the bodies of his parents onto his pets. Instinctively he ran over and began to pat the dog with vigor, as if to put out a fire, hoping to tame the crimson amoeba that now engulfed it. That's what made him wonder. \n\n\"Well what can I say about him?\" The father laughed. \n\n\"There once was a man... well not so much a man but more an idea.\" He stopped. \"There once was an idea. An idea that, perhaps, you should get up and change the channel rather than have the channel changed for you. \n\nGod isn't like the other boys. He's been lazy. He sits there with the dead remote for seven days, complaining endlessly, and refusing to watch the 'boring' shows on TV. And there are no batteries in the house to bring the remote to life. And no one to bring him batteries, or go shopping for them; in fact there were no batteries at all. And there was no TV, but there was a blank screen filled with black liquid. \n\nOne day God grew tired of his silence and decided he wanted sounds in the blackness. So for the first time he opened his mouth and yelled. The echoes reverberated through the black screen, pixels lit up, small neon images flickered across the screen, and he laughed. \n\nThe images contorted like those acrobats in the circus with little streams of light twisting and turning through small prisms--\"\n\n\"What's a prism dad?\" \n\"It's a--uhh glass box that reflects light and can make a flashlight separate into different colors. White light is just a mesh of colors, you see. I'll explain any words you don't get after the story...\" \n\nHe cleared his throat and resumed. \"So what did God do? He kept laughing, and the show went on. But soon enough the lights grew dim and needed rest, but God enjoyed his fun so much he wanted no end to it. He stood up from his seat as the grass appeared underneath each step and ran to the local CVS for batteries because his remote was still dead. And you know what?\"\n\nJoss looked at him excited, \"What?!\" \n\n\"He got the batteries and turned on the TV, and that's why the 'bad people' go to hell. Sleep good honey.\" \n",
"The Big Bad God\n\n\n\"Daddy, tell me a story.\"\n\nBrayden sighs. \"I've already told you two stories.\"\n\n\"One more. Please.\" Bartholomew says, letting the \"-ease\" ring to infinity.\n\n\"One last story. And then lights out.\"\n\n\"Okay.\" \n\n\"I'm going to tell you a story about God.\"\n\n\"God?\"\n\n\"Yes. God. Now be quiet so I can tell the story.\"\n\n\"Okay.\" Bartholomew's eyes close.\n\n\"You've heard about Jesus, right?\"\n\nBartholomew's eyes open and he smiles, pushing the side of his face into the pillow. \"Grandpa talks a lot about him.\"\n\n\"Yeah, grandpa likes to talk about stuff like that. But this story isn't about Jesus. It's about his dad.\"\n\n\"God has a dad?\"\n\n\"No, they're both God but we don't have time to get into those details. Now God created....\"\n\n\"God Jesus or Jesus' Daddy?\"\n\n\"Jesus' Dad. Now let me talk. God, as in Jesus' Dad, created everything. Everything you see, everything you hear, everything you feel. He created it.\"\n\n\"Wow. That's a lot.\"\n\n\"Yeah. So, anyways, he created everything. He created everything good in the world. But he also created everything that was evil.\"\n\n\"Why did he do that?\"\n\n\"Because he can do whatever he wants. If he wants to blow our house down like the Big Bad Wolf, he can do that.\"\n\nBartholomew's eyes narrow and his bottom lip sticks out. \"I don't like God.\"\n\nBrayden shrugs. \"He probably won't do that. But he could if he wanted to.\" \n\n\"Why would God do that?\"\n\n\"Because he can do whatever he wants. No one is there to stop him. Back in the old days, he killed almost everyone on this planet with a flood because they had forgotten about him.\"\n\n\"Why is God so mean?\"\n\n\"That's what power does. The more power you get the more evil you become. And God is the most powerful being in the world.\"\n\n\"I don't like God.\"\n\nBrayden leans in and puts his finger to his lips. \"Ssh. Don't let him hear you say that but he already did hear you say that because he hears everything.\"\n\nBartholomew's eyes widen in fear and puts his head under the covers. \"What's he going to do to me, Daddy?\"\n\n\"I don't know. Only God know what God will do. But you know what?\"\n\nBartholomew peeks his head from under the covers. \"What?\"\n\n\"There's one place where God doesn't exist.\" \n\nBartholomew pulls the blanket from over his head. \"Huh? You said God created everything and everywhere.\"\n\n\"I did. But there's still a place where he doesn't exist.\"\n\n\"Where?\"\n\n\"In our dreams.\"\n\n\"In a dream? What?\"\n\n\"God created everything around us. But in our dreams, we create everything. It's only in our dreams that we can truly be whatever we want to be.\"\n\n\"Nuh-uh\"\n\n\"Think about it. Have you ever flown in your dreams?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\"\n\n\"But you can't when you're awake, right?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"And that's because of God. Is there anything that you can't do in your dreams?\"\n\n\"I don't know.\"\n\n\"Exactly. It's only when we're asleep that we can escape God's plans for us. God can't tell us what to do in our dreams. That's where we control our destiny.\"\n\n\"Wow.\"\n\n\"I know, right?\"\n\n\"So are you ready to go to sleep?\"\n\n\"Yeah.\" Bartholomew says while rubbing his eyes.\n\n\"Okay.\" Brayden stands up and walks to the doorway. \"Night night.\" he says before turning off the light. \n\n\"Daddy?\" \n\nBrayden turns on the light again. \"Yes?\"\n\n\"Can you tell me another story please?\"\n"
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[WP] A society in which government representatives are chosen randomly at birth, then raised and educated for the responsibility.
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"This is perhaps the hardest part of my job.\n\nGovernance, it suits me. I have studied the actions of all those before me, and have taken years to calculate strategies.\n\nJudging, it also suits me. I am fair, decent. I was raised to be so. My subjects do not dislike me as a whole and I have had no wars fought because of my actions.\n\nCharming, I was born to do. My smile comes naturally and my heart is always open to listen. \n\nBut today I do something I have never done before. Something I have not trained for. Something my teachers could not explain.\n\nI didn't chose a place at random on the map. I chose a farmland, quiet and peaceful. The crops and their people are healthy. The mountain winds have made them hardy.\n\nThe mother seems confused that I am here. She's not smart, bit she is wise. She knows that I'm here to do my last job as leader. She knows that her child will lead a good life, that they will be expected. But I can see her careful mask, one her child will likely employ. That mask hides her pain, the pain of losing this child.\n\nI take the baby gently. Though I have no idea what kind of leader this child will be, at least it will be a healthy one. It doesn't cry. Perhaps it's comfortable with me. Perhaps it's too stupid to cry. Perhaps it believes it's best not to cry.\n\nI don't know. They say the randomness of the selection is what drives us leaders mad. We were raised to calculate every possibility. There are too many possibilities in a strange child.\n\nThe child opens its gray eyes and studies me. Those are strong gray eyes. \n\nI think the child will be a good leader.",
"At 2:30pm in Cascadia today, where young children are chosen at random to be educated as the state's government leaders, an anonymous drone strike partially destroyed the Centers for Leadership Development Vancouver branch, killing 83 children and professors and leaving at least 50 others in critical condition. Eastern ISIL and Russian nationalists have claimed responsibility, but an internal United Regions of America intelligence document leaked hours after the strike doesn't support their claim.\n\nNational leaders convened for premium content press conferences around the world before the document was leaked, but haven't released the media format yet. The Presiding Committee of the United Regions of America (PCURA) said that an investigation was underway, remarking before their conference that \"this tragedy should be a focal point for anyone in the world that would consider any means but democratic ones to have a successful, prosperous nation secure from the relentless assault of terrorism.\"\n\nPresident Barack Obama, who held US office from 2008-2016 before the nation reformed into a loosely joined group of regions, the URA, said that \"some folks, and rightly so, don't believe that children should be given no choice but to lead, and everyone else no choice but to follow. Of course, the attack itself is abominable, and peaceful diplomatic measures to recalibrate Cascadia's objectives are needed to prevent terrible events like these in the future.\"\n\nCalls for comments to the hospital haven't been returned, and no tweets from the confirmed twitter accounts of survivors have been inactive since the attack.",
"‘This one,’ the chief archon said. \n\nThe infants lay squirming in their cots, their parents standing behind them. The children’s wails filled the room, a squalling cry that went on and on. The archon pushed it aside, pushed aside the expressions of fear on the parents’ faces, pushed aside everything but his duty.\n\nHe had been chosen long before by a past archon. He remembered nothing of it. How could he? But he remembered the upbringing, the tutelage, the deference of all. A single choice – two words: ‘this one’ – and he had become renowned, intended for a life of power and prominence. \n\nHe glanced at the child he had chosen. Its eyes were open, but he was just a blurry shape to it, he knew. A doctor had told him once that new-borns only saw in black and white. The archon thought that apt, somehow. The child clawed vaguely at the air and the archon offered it his finger to grab. It looked no different from its fellows. It was no different from its fellows. \n\nThe archon wondered if his predecessor had felt the same revulsion. It was a strange and cruel tradition. He did not want to look the parents in the eyes. His word was law, but he knew their look would stay with him too long.\n\n‘This is the one,’ he said, intoning the rites, ‘This is the one for the future. I am the present, but this is the future.’\nThere was a sob behind the cot. He stared down hard at the child, but he could still see its parents’ hands grasping at each other. He refused to raise his head. He could not bear it.\n\n‘You will be compensated,’ he said to the parents, continuing the rites. How sickening! What appalling wording from the brutal soul that had invented this tradition. Because that was all it was: invented. A conniving way of creating a ruler crafted by the state. Give me the child and I’ll give you the man, the saying went. There was nothing good about this, nothing at all. \n\nThe child squirmed again, kicked its legs. Spittle bubbled at its mouth. A life of privilege, status, power and such, such loneliness awaited it. It knew nothing, just as the archon did. He knew nothing of the world, just the strictures of law and ethics and politics. He did not think he had ever held anyone’s hand in love.\n\nThe archon stood up tall, raised his eyes and looked at the parents. The mother’s head rested on her husband’s shoulder. She was trembling. All parents had been warned by the officers of the court to avoid shows of emotion as it diminished the ceremony. The archon did not much care for the ceremony now. Their tears would not feature in the morning’s newspapers. Not now. Not for what he was about to do.\n\n‘Come with me,’ he said. ‘Bring your child.’ \n\nThey responded automatically, as the archon was used to everyone responding. The mother still shook, but now confusion instead of sorrow was spread across her. She picked up the child and held it close against her. The father placed his hand on the child’s back, stroking it.\n\n‘She will be archon,’ the chief archon said, ‘But she will also be yours. She will change and grow into more power than you can imagine right now, but you will watch her grow. And when she cries, you will hold her. You will hold her hand through her youth and into her maturity.’\n\nAn officer of the court approached, disagreement already preparing on his lips.\n\n‘No,’ said the archon before the officer spoke. The officer smiled meekly and opened his mouth again. ‘No,’ said the archon, holding up a finger. ‘Quiet.’\n\n‘Now come with me,’ he said to the parents, ‘It is one of the gifts of the office to be able to do what you want, tradition be damned.’",
"His name. Robert should know his name. He paused for a little longer than usual as he reached into his mind and tried to pull on the loose thread of a memory failing once again. His father had been bad with names, as was his mother. Tracy, his lead instructor, had encouraged him to challenge himself and push the boundaries of his intellect but he had gotten lazy since elevating to chief representative of the fifth domicile. His many stewards could instantly be called upon to inform him of most things, including names, origins, and motivations of his body subjects. It was pointless to waste his energy remembering details. Robert was supposed to see the broader picture, not body names. In fact, his lack of knowledge made him quite poor in the art of conversation, a fact that almost always caused him excuse himself from social obligations. Robert had scored lowest in his class in all aptitude measures. He failed almost every evaluation throughout his training, yet somehow he bore a lucidity that was undeniable. His calm and confident eyes did portray a decisiveness and his direction always seemed to lead to increased prosperity for his body. This newcomer was clearly an opposition operative. Robert had allowed the party more freedom than any other district for he had always felt that violence was not a just use of power. The man eyed him over the ballistic barrel and Robert began to wonder if he should have given the repeated warnings from his companions more consideration.",
"I am not special. This is something I learned at the age of five. I also learned that the other children in my class were not special either. We were just ordinary children, selected randomly at birth to be leaders. Each pregnant woman was assigned a number on her first pregnancy-wellness visit. At the end of each year, 100 numbers were chosen at random. The woman with the winning numbers would parent a future leader of the free world.\n\nAs future leaders, we began training on our fifth birthday. Our parents kissed us goodbye as we boarded the train to the capital, and we all cried. My first vivid memory is of 100 crying children, many clutching stuffed animals or security blankets, boarding a train with a single suitcase. When we arrived at the school—a twenty-acre, self-sustainable campus miles away from the rest of civilization—we were ushered into a lecture hall where a color-coded calendar was projected onto a movie-theater-sized screen. Our cohort leader—a middle-aged woman with graying hair and a warm smile—pointed to December 15th. She tapped her long painted fingernail on the projector screen. “On this day, you will see your parents again for winter vacation. I know you will miss your mommies and daddies, but we are here to take care of you, to teach you, and to make you the best people you can be.”\n\nAt sixteen, I remember the first few years of school fondly. We followed the basic national curriculum, but we also had to memorize doctrines and treaties and laws. We memorized the Declaration of Independence and the United States Constitution by the end of year 2. We received our law degrees by year 10. We learned science and psychology and sociology. We spent months learning as much as we could about various fields so that we would become educated, well-informed leaders who would be resistant to the temptations and pressures of political office. \nI remember how confused I was looking at the history books in year 3. I once asked the lecturer why all the presidents before Barrack Obama were white. He motioned around the classroom, “This is why all of you are here. We select leaders randomly, educate them well, and enforce laws that promote equality for all.” The classroom echoed the sounds of the applause from the students.\n\nIn year 11, the classes are more complicated. We are asked to make decisions based on ethics, and I have realized that situations are not always black and white. We have well-rounded bases of knowledge on which to base decisions to positively affect the greatest amount of individuals, but I find little comfort in these statistics. I find little comfort in using the math and science and protocols I have been taught to determine solutions that will help most people but will hurt some. I am told that I will master this skill by year 12, but I have my own doubts.\n\nOn my last visit home for winter break, my parents seemed different. On closer inspection, I realized that they had not deviated from their routines, their ideologies remained unchanged, and their unwavering patriotism was a strong as ever. They had not changed, but I had. I realized that people no longer question their leaders. There are no more elections, and no public involvement in the world of politics. The world has become strictly divided into leaders and followers. \n\nOn year 13 I will graduate and accept an appointed leadership position. Wherever I may be placed, I know that my decisions will be honored, I will be praised, and my beliefs will remain unchallenged. However, unlike the rest of my cohort, I feel as if this is undesirable.\n"
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[WP] A naive, kind-hearted boy is unwittingly fulfilling his destiny as the evil overlord.
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"Sensei handed Caleb a small remote, which he accepted silently. There were two large buttons on left and right, nothing else. The left was a soft translucent green while the right was an oppressive red.\n\nCaleb remained quiet as Sensei withdrew a small rabbit from the pocket of his robe and set it tenderly onto the table, allowing it to explore freely. \n\n\"Do you know what I have given you, Caleb?\" \n\n\"A remote,\" he answered hesitantly.\n\n\"I have given you a great responsibility. In your hands, you now hold this rabbit's life. If at anytime you decide to press the green button, a small device inside the rabbits head will activate and kill it instantaneously. You can press the button at any time.\"\n\n\"What does the red button do,\" Caleb asked.\n\n\"Nothing,\" Sensei said with a smile. He leaned over and picked up the rabbit, placing back in the center. \"Now, you must choose. Kill the rabbit or let it live.\"\n\nCaleb looked down at the remote and thought. The choice seemed obvious, but he was learning not to be overly trusting. Many of the tests so far seemed obvious at first, only to turn out far more complex, and he began to argue internally why the small rabbit in front of him should die.\n\n\"The rabbit is innocent,\" Caleb said at last. He pressed the red button, then let out a small sigh as Sensei grinned and nodded in approval. \n\nHe let out a sudden scream though, as in one fluid blur Sensei plunged a large dagger into the rabbits rear leg, pinning it to the table. The rabbit shrieked and kicked wildly, splattering droplets of blood everywhere as the knife twisted back and forth.\n\n\"Kill the rabbit or let it live,\" Sensei shouted. Caleb frantically pressed the red button over and over again as drops of blood splattered onto his face, but nothing happened. He continued pressing the button as Sensei pulled out a lighter and held it to the rabbit. \n\n\"Kill the rabbit or let it live,\" he said more quietly. Before even finishing though, he had flicked the lighter. The flame jumped immediately to the rabbit's fur and quickly spread.\n\n\"Kill,\" Caleb yelled, pressing the green button. As if struck by magic, the rabbit fell over and lay perfectly still. The green button clicked continuously as Caleb sobbed and the dead rabbit continued burning.\n\nSensie came around to the other side of the table and placed a hand on Caleb's shoulder. He knelt down and stroked his hair comfortingly. \n\n\"You did the right thing, Caleb. You stopped the innocent from suffering. Remember that.\"",
"\"Do you promise to vanquish all evil, heretical beings and unholy factors in our beloved world which He hath created for us?\" He held the sword to my shoulder, tapping each side. His voice carried high in Westminister Abbey. A curious place to introduce the newest members of the secret echelon of the Holy Faith.\n\n\n\"I do solemnly swear to carry out the Screaming Saints will as the holy sword and divine will.\"\n\n\nI always wanted good to prevail over those to seek to do our brothers harm. Perhaps it was my calling as a child. When good men fail to act, evil will prevail. I will become a good man, and I will prevail over evil.\n\n\n---\n\n\n\"Brother Cairn, file in with Saint Peter's team and execute the wounded. They are heretics under the law of God and must be punished so.\"\n\n\n\"Yes Father Trent.\" I held the broadsword over his head. The man beside him was trembling, saying something in heretical speak. The man before me did not shake. I was impressed, only by the fact that he had accepted his fate. \n\n\nLooking straight into the eyes of the devil, he simply whispered, \"A day will come for you, when you look upon your own sins.\"\n\n\nThe blood that exited his form painted a Hail Mary of beauty that made the world tremble. The world of the Holy Faith would reign supreme once more over these evil-doers.\n\n\nAnd tomorrow was my eighteenth birthday. A day off.\n\n\nBut Evil has no day off.\n\n\n---\n\n\n\"Brother Xingly, is there a problem? Do you have difficulty in maintaining your weapons, or am I merely blind? The blood of the guilty has not yet spread beneath my feet.\"\n\n\n\"Father Cairn, these men.. they have done nothing wrong. They have only in their possession the works of the unfaithful, research papers. Father, these are only academics! Surely there is a different way! A way of peace!\"\n\n\n\"Brother Xingly, you are young and troubleminded. A potential evil-sayer is an evil say-er. They have dipped their quills into the hatred that is heresy, which only leads to the Devil. Punishment for both is death by sword. You will learn to understand in due time.\"\n\n\n\"But Father, I know these men! He is a professor at a prestigious university and part of the government! They will not sanction this! And he-\"\n\n\n\"I have honored you with the deliverance of His Holy Hand and you dare rejected it?!\" My breath was ragged, fingers already searching for the trigger of my rifle. \n\n\n\"No father. Please, that is not my intention...\"\n\n\n\"I have spent more years with this duty than you have been alive! We are the divine warhammer that will cleanse this Earth! Do as I say, lest you join them!\"\n\n\n\"...Yes Father Cairn.\"\n\n\n---\n\n\n\"The President of the USA and China's Premier are asking for an answer. We have reached every resource and we cannot condone what you have asked for Bishop Cairn. This request, much be rejected, with your name on it.\" \n\n\n\"Your Holy Majesty, I am sorry to hear that is your answer. May I ask a personal question?\" My temper was rising. My cheeks flush with red, but I maintained my tone.\n\n\n\"You may my son. Pray tell, what ails your mind in this moment? I sense that you have a troubled mind over these last few years with the increase of tolerance that we have founded.\" His voice was full of weakness.\n\n\n\"How was is that you were selected to be Humanity's ear?\"\n\n\n\"I was chosen by the people and by Him. It was He who guided me through my tests and found me to be worthy.\" He was nobody, a nothing in comparison to the damage he had done to our great ways.\n\n\n\"Do you believe that in your position, you must bring peace to this world, with us leading the forefront?\" I rose and face the old man directly.\n\n\n\"If that means through means of peace, through tolerance and understanding, through the humility of our ways and progressive forms of thought, yes.\"\n\n\n\"Forgive me Father.\"\n\n\n\"Bishop Cairn. You will always be forgiv-\"\n\n\nI jumped before he finished his sentence. The dagger within his heart, now sticking through his chest made no noise. A soft gasp from his lips escaped, the cow eyes now dulling to a gentle gaze to the heavens. \n\n\n---\n\n\nI have become the destroyer of worlds, the crusader of times. Those that will not bear with me, shall be trampled beneath the wave of retribution. The Saint's will rise once more, and vengeance shall come unto thee."
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[WP] Write a "whodonut" story. A whodunit story with a focus on donuts.
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"As I approached the crime scene, a lab tech tried to stop me. Asked me for my ID. I shrugged her off as my partner explained who we were. The guys you call when there's no one left to call. \n\nI ducked under the police tape and pulled out my notepad. There wasnt much to take note of. Smears on the windows. Was it something red? I opened the door and a bell jingled above my head. The smell of frying oil and jelly permiated the air. *Good God,* I thought to myself. *What have they done?*\n\nThe place was called \"John's Doughnuts.\" Clever name. The body laying across that counter, that must have been John Dough. That's what his nametag said anyway. But who did this?\n\nMy partner walked in just then, mumbling something about labrats needing to learn their place. I grumbled in agreement, barely listening. Something didn't feel right. Something under my skin. Actually, it was under my boot. \n\n*The jelly!* I exclaimed. *John specialized in* custard-filled *doughnuts!* He would never make jelly-filled. He left that to his sister and competitor, Jane. Did this suddenly become a case of sibling rivalry gone too far? \n\nThe clicking of heels echoed from the hall. I spun around, only to see the prime suspect herself. Jane Dough. Devilishly dressed for a day of death. She had to have killed her brother. It all made sense! Get rid of the custard-filled competition! But how would I pin it on her? The courts would never buy it. \n\n*Without a reasonable doubt...* I thought as I stared her down. There must be some proof. She had to have slipped up somewhere. Then I spotted it. The proof was in the pudding! Well, the jelly. The jelly in her hair! The exact same jelly that coated the walls. I turned to my partner and whispered quietly: *Shedunnit.* ",
"The office was struck\n\nwith a case of the runs\n\nsphincters were firing\n\nlike the rattles of guns\n\n\n\nJennifer cried, and she\n\nthreatened to sue\n\nJim was so dehydrated\n\nhe knew not what to do\n\n\n\nThere were streaks on the walls\n\nStreaks on the floors\n\nThere were streaks in the halls\n\nand streaks on the doors\n\n\n\nAnd no one had eaten\n\na thing, not at all\n\nExcept, for one thing ... those donuts....\n\n\n\nThe Boss Man demanded,\n\nhe wanted to know,\n\nThe culprit behind this\n\nmorbid shitshow\n\n\n\nSteve begged for mercy\n\nfor his horrid misdeed\n\nIt was his donut purchase\n\nthat made anuses bleed\n\n\n\nBut Boss Man didn't care\n\nto punish the fellow\n\nfor the macabre pastiche\n\nof browns and yellows\n\n\n\n\n\"NO\" he said.\n\n\"This isn't your fault\"\n\nIt must have been one of those *donuts*\n\n\n\n\"Was it you, Boston Creme!?\"\n\nHe said, making a scene\n\n\"No, leave the poor thing\n\nalone\" Jen screamed!\n\n\n\n\"It must have been Jelly\"\n \nshe pleaded aloud\n\n\"I'd never eat Jelly!\"\n \nJim said, pallid, yet proud\n\n\n\nSteve interjected\n\n\"I suspect the French Crullers\"\n\nAfter all, they were flooseys\n\nrubbing off on the others\n\n\n\nThe Boss Man nodded\n\nand the rest all agreed\n\nthe French Crullers had tainted the donuts....\n\n\n\nSo they all gathered round\n\noutside of the office\n\nto question the donut\n\ntheir methods were flawless\n\n\n\nIt cracked under pressure\n\nit begged and it screamed\n\nthat filthy french cruller\n\nit lied and it schemed\n\n\n\n\"I fell on the floor\n\nbut I wanted to be eaten\n\nI refused to give up\n\nI refused to be beaten!\"\n\n\n\nThe Boss Man stood firm\n\nturning on the disposal\n\n\"you shouldn't have tainted our donuts...\"\n\n",
"The Case of the Berliner\n\nPart I\n\nDown the hall, Dorris heard a loud crash followed by \"Ich bin ein Berliner! Ich bin ein Berliner!\" \n\nAs the mad shouting continued, Dorris figured it was just another one of (i) those (/i) cases, and decided to continue washing the dishes. Upon the seventeenth exclamation, however, Dorris thought it was time enough to intervene. As she approached the door to her husband's office, she suddenly realized that the shouting of \"Ich bin ein berliner!\" had turned into what sounded like crazed sobbing interspersed with cackling. While her hand rested on the doorknob she wondered whether or not to knock first, or simply enter. The sob-cackling ceased, followed by one very jovial \"Ich bin ein berliner!\" Dorris swung open the door and beheld her husband, prostrate on the floor, surrounded by newspapers, letters, and the wreckage of his broken opium pipe. \n\nAmbrose seemed very much alerted that the door had opened, and flung his arms in Dorris' direction, exclaiming \"The answer is in the future!\" His arms then flopped back to the floor, followed by his head, which resounded a hollow thump as it dunted against the floorboards. \n\n\"Good heavens!\" Dorris exclaimed. She ran to the chamber's window and shouted to the street below \"I need a doctor, quick!\"\n\nPart II\n\nAmbrose hadn't very much luck in his field, so when his editor gave him a look of half contempt and half frustration, he understood what would likely proceed. \"Now, I ask that you hear me out, sir!\" Mr. Rabenhorst continued, \"You will understand when I am hesitant to consider even the most reasonable of the details which you have related me, considering your last failure.\" A short pause ensued as Mr. Rabenhorst opened his desk, and proceeded to rummage through its contents. \"Now, Mr. Krapfen, though I think it uncouth to speak of such things, I will tell you that it has been related to me that you are an opium eater.\"\n\nAmbrose gripped the arms of his chair and shifted his legs, while Mr. Rabenhorst turned toward the window and sighed. \"Mr. Krapfen, I respect your work as a writer, but as a journalist your are simply failing to meet the standards of this company.\" Rabenhorst pulled a cigar case from his desk and stuffed it into his pocket. \"Listen, Ambrose, I cannot have a known opium addict working for me. Your employment here has ceased. Please leave.\" With that, Rabenhorst stood up, donned his bowler cap, and turned around toward a board covered in newspaper clippings.\n\nAmbrose knew nothing more could be said to salvage his reputation.\n\nPart III\n\nSkulking through an alleyway, Ambrose trailed his subject just as he rounded a corner. The cloaked figure moved with an unnatural rapidity, and Ambrose chased as quickly as he could manage.\n\nAs he approached the turn in the alley, he peaked around the corner to find a dead-end. The cloaked man was nowhere to be seen, but just as Ambrose caught his senses he noticed a shoe protruding from behind a pile of rubbage. He waited to see if there was any movement, and after many long minutes decided he must investigate further. \n\nHe approached the pile with a trepidation that shook him deeper than any he had before experienced. He hugged the wall opposite the pile as he slid along it, his fear resounding in his heart, he could no longer feel his legs, and just as he realized he was no longer breathing, his foot caught an old, broken box, and sent him flying just into view of a spectacle which made his blood freeze in his veins.\n\n\"The Berliner!\" He let out in an agonized yell. The shoe which he before noticed belonged to the corpse of a very fat man, none other than Mr. Rabenhorst. His neck was sliced from end to end and dried blood covered his whole body. The stub of a cigar sat in his mouth, and a jelly doughnut in his hand. A note was nailed into Mr. Rabenhorst's chest and surpisingly was covered in no blood, save by the writing itself: the initials 'J.F.K.' \n\nAmbrose knew not what any of this meant, only that the Berliner was somehow aware of him, and was going to make a game out of this.\n\n... To be continued? \n",
" Bob from accounting? An obvious suspect. He had the smell of a jelly donut right smack dab on his fat face...\n\n\"WHY'D you do it, Bob! I WANT ANSWERS DAMNIT!\"\n\n\"Randy, for the last time, I didn't eat your donut. I'm on a diet...\"\n\n\"Yeah right... You on a diet? You can lie better than that can't you, Burger Bob?\"\n\n\"Hey, that's awfully offensive, y'know. Here, you can call my wife and ask her yourself if you need to.\"\n\nDAMN... the case ran cold. If Bob was telling the truth who could have possibly done it? \n\nI start searching for clues. This case is going to take some real detective work if I'm gonna make any progress. \n\nI head on over to the crime scene for more information. \n\nRight there, on the table... The plate that held that one donut meant just for me. That delicious, jelly filled goddess of a donut. I wipe my finger across a puddle of leftover jelly.\n\nStill warm...\n\nWhat's this? Crumbs?\n\nOh, Dublin Donuts... Your crumbly doughy masterpiece may have just brought this case back to life. \n\nI follow the trail of crumbs watching my back to make sure I'm not being followed. Everyone here is a suspect in this case and I won't rest until I found out whodunnit...\n\nThe crumbs lead straight to Pam's office. I listen into the door...\n\n\"Look, I can't keep talking about this Randy nonsense. I'm absolutely certain Randy isn't on some idiotic Noir style quest over a dumb donut...\"\n\nI KICK DOWN THE DOOR!\n\n\"You...\" I utter with resentment.\n\n\"I'll... call you back...\" pam says cautiously.\n\nI stand in front of her desk after closing the door gently. Silence... Long silence... LONGER silence...\n\nPam's face begins to break a sweat. \n\nWe just struck oil, boys...\n\n\"Pam, we both know why I'm here so let's cut the crap.\"\n\n\"Randy, I don't know what happened with your jelly donut so there's no reason to bother me right now.\"\n\nMy eyes ignite!\n\n\"But Pamela...\n I never said it was a JELLY DONUT!\"\n\nI got her now. Her face turned bright red as her cheeks blushed a red quite similiar to the jelly in my delicious jelly filled donut.\n\n\"I... I just assumed it was jelly. It's your favorite flavor, right?\" Pam's eyes avert my cold hard gaze.\n\n\"Pam, youre a terrible liar... However, even if what you just said were true... it doesn't add up...\"\n\nI slowly and calmly walk next to her and gently turn her face towards me with my palm\n\n\"Seeing how I just caught you red-handed...\"\n\nI spend a tired weak chuckle.\n\n\"OR SHOULD I SAY, RED-MOUTHED!!!\"\n\nI then slide my finger from the middle of her lips to the side to get a blood red jelly....\n\nI stick my finger in my mouth and am overcome with an orgasmic delight that can only be described as heavenly...\n\n\"I'll be in touch about this with your boss, Pamela..\" I say as I slowly walk outside her office.\n\n\"Oh go to hell, Randy! The damn jelly donut was delicious too! Best fucking donut, I've ever had!\"\n\nCase closed.\n\n I walk back to my office with a satisfaction. That satisfaction you get when you see justice has been served and all is okay with the world for only a moment.\n\nI lean back in my chair and let out a relaxed sigh.\n\nThe only thing that would make this better is not a smoke of a cigarette but a bite of my chocolate glazed donut in my mini fridge.\n\nI open the small fridge under my desk to find an empty box that was once home to my chocolate glazed donut...\n\nI'm back on the case....\n\n\n"
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[WP] Write a story that changes from a tragedy to a comedy when you change only one sentence.
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"He couldn't find her. He loved her so, but she was gone from his life. Not necessarily, he hoped, but she was gone. He had poured hours of his love and care into their relationship, and she had reciprocated, but she had just vanished. Without any trace left behind, too. He would lie in bed at night, wondering if he could find her. He had called the police and filed a missing person report, he had warned all of his family about her disappearance, he had even told the kids in his class to look for her.\n\nAt night he would often cry before sleeping, if only to help ease his pain a little. They say crying is emotionally good for you, after all. But, no matter how much he tried, he couldn't shake the sadness he felt about her from his mind. Her beautiful eyes, her long and flowing hair, her gorgeous smile, and her radiant personality all stuck with him. \n\nHe wished she was still there, but alas, his dakimakura was gone.",
"\"Do you remember responding to that suicide call where we showed up too late?\"\n\n\"My God, how could I forget? After running up all those flights of stairs I used the last bit of energy to crash through the door. I had just enough time to sit and catch my breath before the smell came. Dear Lord that smell was horrible! I immediately felt bad for leaving the door open. \n\nI'll tell you what though. As bad as the smell was, the feeling in my gut was worse. Just knowing someone else would end up like that, it hurt to think about. I wasn't ready for the flood of emotions, I don't think anyone really can be. I just sat there and sobbed for what seemed to be hours.\n\nI remember you asking if I was ok. I wasn't and I don't think you needed me to say so. Somehow you just knew to give me time enough to let it all out. I thank you for that. After being emotionally and physically drained, that's when I met you back downstairs.\"\n\n-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\"Do you remember that giant shit you took after beating the record for most Taco Bell burritos consumed in one night!?\"\n\n\"My God, how could I forget? After running up all those flights of stairs I used the last bit of energy to crash through the door. I had just enough time to sit and catch my breath before the smell came. Dear Lord that smell was horrible! I immediately felt bad for leaving the door open. \n\nI'll tell you what though. As bad as the smell was, the feeling in my gut was worse. Just knowing someone else would end up like that, it hurt to think about. I wasn't ready for the flood of emotions, I don't think anyone really can be. I just sat there and sobbed for what seemed to be hours.\n\nI remember you asking if I was ok. I wasn't and I don't think you needed me to say so. Somehow you just knew to give me time enough to let it all out. I thank you for that. After being emotionally and physically drained, that's when I met you back downstairs.\"\n "
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[WP] "Sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." What happens when magic becomes too advanced?
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"\"I don't see what's so special about magic when we have technology,\" Phil said to the elf. \n\nGriswold's pointed ears twitched. \"Really? Most of what you consider technology is just magic. Laser guns? Did you think there was a nuclear reactor in your hands?\"\n\nPhil stuttered.\n\n\"Or FTL ships. Without magic, they could not warp in and out of reality to allow for bending the laws of physics. Cars utilize flight. Tell me, how does anti-grav work again? Or FTL communication. No crystal balls and the empire has no communication with its colonies. Even the gloves on your hand are enchanted to allow you to feel while retaining your modesty.\"",
"His magic had grown very sophisticated, but had it grown this far? He supposed he would find out. He just wished he would not find out with a *technologist* at his side. Damn him. Ah, no. That wasn't right, he supposed. Nichols was his friend. He only wanted to help in his own needlessly flashy way.\n\nArgan The White sat uncomfortably in the passenger seat of Ramon Nichols' Vehicle. Of course, Nichols did not simply call it a Vehicle. Too straightforward, Argan supposed. Nichols had a penchant for naming simple things with complicated names. It was actually a hydraulically suspended hydrogen fueled computer assisted (and no doubt several other technological words) device which simply functioned as a Vehicle. \n\nPish posh! The Chariot of Speed spell every fourth order mage learned could have done this with any common place object as a Vehicle, up to and including an old grandmother's shopping cart without the need for hydrogen fueled anything. Technologists! Bah!\n\nEngineers, Argan mused, were in some ways quite opposite to Mages. Mages were a secretive lot. They kept their spells inscribed in books carefully protected with runes or assigned elemental guardians, and never shared the inner workings with the non-initiated. For that matter, they rarely shared them amongst themselves unless in carefully negotiated trade. These *engineers*, on the other hand had to tell the world how everything they made worked, even if it made the non-initiated's eyes glaze over with a mixture of confusion and boredom.\n\nThat, Argan reflected, was why he hated technology, really. All those years of keeping tightly maintained secrecy and here late, the technologists who babble their secrets to anyone regardless of whether they are understood or not were getting so that they could do anything magic could do. Or so they liked to think. Argan smiled at this secret thought, as he again contemplated his New Magic, but he said nothing for now.\n\nNichols reached the base of the hill and found it impassible for a wheeled vehicle, as Argan could have told him it would be. This was, after all, Olympus. Not that it slowed Nichols for a second, of course. He shifted some levers and his wheeled vehicle converted itself smoothly into something he would no doubt call a VTOL hover craft. Harrumph. In *his* day, Argan simply called it Holdan's Greater Levitation, but no matter. \n\nThese days the top of Olympus had been sealed off with Golden Gates of Surpassing Strength. Argan raised one eyebrow and waited to see if his friend would need help with this one. He was perfectly prepared to cast Alexandros' Inevitable Opening. But Nichols punched some buttons on the dashboard of his overly named Vehicle, and something he refered to as a \"Sidewinder\" flew forth from under the hood and bashed open the Golden Gates.\n\nArgan shook his head and sighed. *Show off.*\n\nAt last the vehicle soared up to the gates of a great stone palace. Nichols was not taken aback by the minotaur guardians which came trooping out of the palace. He toggled a switch and Argan heard a whirring noise from the roof of the vehicle. Hmm. Interesting. He himself would have simply Dispelled the obviously summoned beasts but Nichols ... \n\nA loud rattatatat sounded complemented by flashes of light and the minotaurs flew back, torn to pieces by what Nichols called \"gunfire\". (Argan presumed it was some form of elemental fire effect. He hadn't condescended to study it). \n\nThe two companions emerged from the Vehicle and approached the palace. Stepping inside, they were accosted by a tall figure, looming over them in a mighty throne thirty spans tall. \"WHO DARES TO ASSAULT MY PALACE?\" Zeus bellowed at them, and Argan was mildly amused to see all the blood drain from the face of Nichols at the sight of the Old God. \n\n\"I...\" Nichols began, feebly indicating with gestures that he would just be going now, but before he could act upon it, Zeus pulled his old thunderbolt routine and Nichols, the poor fool, was roasted and boiled away.\n\n\"AND YOU!\" Zeus roared, and turned to Argan, who raised his head high, and inscribed the first rune of the New Magic in the air before him. Zeus's flung another thunderbolt, and then his eyes widened as Argan's Unassailable Sheild deflected it.\n\n\"IMPOSSIBLE\", cried Zeus, and lept up from his thone. He stalked Argan with fire literally flashing in his eyes.\n\nAnother rune of the New Magic, and Argan was himself as tall as the Old God. Perhaps he would call this spell Argan's Ascension? Zeus stumbled to a halt, no doubt remembering what he himself had wrought upon the Titans. Remembering, and perhaps worrying?\n\nArgan stepped forward, inscribing a third rune of New Magic, and in the blink of a mortal eye, a sword of flame appeared in his hand, shining like the sun. Zeus staggered back, uncertainty warping his features into an unaccustomed shape. Before he could recover, Argan thrust what he called Argan's Unstoppable Blade through the chest of the Old God, who gasped as the fire drained from his eyes, and he cried out in mingled pain and surprise. Argan reveled in the feeling --- imagine! To slay a god!\n\nAnd when the body of Zeus was a dissipating cloud upon the air, Argan cast the blade upwards, watching it rocket skyward and turn to five new stars visible even in the daylit sky. He stepped forward, still smiling, and claimed the throne of Olympus. \n\nThen he pondered the charred corpse of his friend, Nichols. Poor soul. *This part better work*, he thought. Then he inscribed the Ultimate Rune of New Magic, (*or perhaps Argan's Ressurection?*, he mused), and instantly all damage was healed and Nichols gasped as he sat up, fully restored. \n\n\"Now, my friend,\" said Argan, \"the next time you say that any sufficiently sophisticated techology is indistinguishable from magic, just remember this: Any sufficiently sophisticated magic, is indistinguishable from divinity!\"\n",
"\"What if magic was as advanced as technology?\"\n\nMy coworker asked that this morning. My name is Rob, and I work with a team that recently discovered Magic is real. Many people have said its a pointless science, since technology can already do more, and looks the same. Illusion magic? Holograms. Destruction magic? Handheld napalm blasters. Conjuration?! Energy-Matter converters. Everything magic can do, technology can do, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't try. From what we know, magic has potential, a lot of it. With technology, we have to mine and run reactors to power everything, but magic comes from people, and might be capable of breaking one of the most problematic laws of physics, \"Matter cannot be created nor destroyed.\" We learned it can be converted from electricity, but that's not creation. Creation is from nothing. All we know for sure though, is a few fundamental laws, which we don't even really understand why they're like this, unlike gravity and the nuclear forces: 1: Magic can only originate from living organic material. This can include bacteria and the like, but it's not strong from them. 2: Magic must have access to the caster by earth-like air. Simulated mars or Venus air, and vacuums do not work. This one is odd, since we cannot detect any transfer, we have no idea how it knows it has access. Lastly, 3: Magic does not need to follow the laws of physics. It doesn't even follow gravity, it appears to grab the caster as a reference point, and ignores the existence of gravity, and untouched by the nuclear forces. It does however, interact with material and electricity.\n\nY9M11D30\n\nAlmost ten years since we started, and we've made a lot of progress. It's hard, to get funding we must compete with the development of technology. They are developing faster, but I believe we have the higher limit; there can only be so much processing power, you know? Anyway, back to point. We made a nice breakthrough today, turns out magic originates from the Carbon reacting.. with.. something. This explains why only life can do it, but we still don't know why only living matter can do it, and not recently deceased matter. We also a while ago discovered yes, matter can be created from nothing with magic, but current processes are extremely slow. A weeks worth of a human charging up can only create a few molecules of hydrogen. We had a group of 15 charge up though, and generated an entire 20 Uranium Atoms, seems the more people involved, the stronger the magic. Imagine if we had the world working on this.. \n\nY14M3D14\n\nHaha! We made something visible to the naked eye! With 50 people trained to grow and store magic, charging for two weeks, we created out of nothing, four grains of sand! It doesn't sound like much, but this is truly amazing! It proves magic has the higher limit, for technology is not unlimited! I feel so proud of this, and because of this our budget was raised 80%! I didn't even know they were allowed to increase by that much! I see a good future.\n\nY23M8D12\n\nMy life has been dedicated to this work, I shall be called the Einstein of Magic. Through practice and training, I have made myself as strong magically as those 50 people from years ago. It doesn't seem like there's a limit to how much we can store or grow, and we've started an experiment, to see if the stored and growth skills are hereditary, why we think it might is classified, but it's a possibility nonetheless. Maybe in a few years, we can create usable objects like technology can. We also started a closed organization meant to learn and develop magic for all their time, and the government has permitted us to \"take\" a few people and test on them, promised it can be made a weapon. I don't like this personally, but these discoveries are more important than morals. My hopes for magic grow more every day, yet I also feel like I know less every day.\n\nY43M1D4\n\nI'm retiring in a few years to just grow my magical power further, but our whole organization has grown. Every one of us can at least build something as large as a battleship and complicated as the quantum supercomputer of 15 years ago. Nothing compared to the successors, but still incredibly complicated. We learned we can use something called a catalyst to enhance our abilities. Spells are no longer 100% free when using a catalyst, as the catalyst is used up, but when taking them into account, we should all be able to make something as large as Asia and complicated as the modern supercomputer. Sadly though, they are incredibly complex and difficult to make. Even the matter converters have to slow down and take their sweetass time to generate the stuff. We repurposed an industrial converter to speed it up, but sadly the one we took, although powerful enough to build a city ship once a month, it still takes a year to make an litre of our simplest catalyst, and it only increases magical power by 10% per litre. Our strongest concoction is projected to increase by 326% per mL, but it's going to take 25 years to brew 1L of it.\n\nY52M6D30\n\nI've hit middle age, and retired a few years ago. We have enough money from the funding and actual payment for the rest of our lives. We discovered we can use magic to speed up and simplify the catalyst creation process, and have developed a 2 year brewing catalyst that does 1265% increase. I have grown my powers beyond the rest of the organization, and believe I may be powerful enough to replace or restart our own sun. The rest I assume can only do a planetary size, since when we tested in the Alpha Centauri system, Noah could only do one desert planet before being exhausted, and the rest never tried. I'm developing a lot faster than the rest, it might be that I have no distractions, while the others have families, entertainment, friends, politics, and some even leave for war now. I have none of that. I sleep less than 3 hours a day, and the rest of the day is studying and testing. I have even been able to prolong my life 100% more than the 450 year life expectancy of everyone else. Maybe one day I'll live over a thousand years before moving to an android body, I'd like that, android body's cannot cast magic, and all my training would be moot.\n\nY136M3D4\n\nI have forgotten to leave a journal note for a few years, so I guess ill have to summarize more than usual. I have successfully created an entire solar system, years later I successfully created an entire galaxy, designed so precise every planet is capable or sustaining life. I even created an alien race to fulfill it, but they are not capable of magic. I have given myself total immortality, my body no longer decays. A few of the organization members left, turning uninterested in magic, luckily not all of them have. In my galaxy, I did make one special planet, I made one capable of producing synthetic magic, something thought impossible until now. It also has a firing cylinder, if I choose to destroy something. The governments have been left out of the loop on our power for years, but this galaxy alerted them, they know how strong we are, they have sent an enormous bounty on us, as well as heavily trained squads to assassinate us. Pitiful, they think they can kill what can annihilate their entire civilization. They are dangerous though, they've been attacking my aliens, but that's not the problem, they've corrupted them, now the aliens have desires which I do not believe they should have. I think.. I think I should start over. The aliens are hurt, and our people are hurt. In a few years I'll have my final decision on it.\n\nY177M3D6\n\nI've decided. Our people are dangerous, my aliens are dying. I'm doing it, I'm starting over. Upon this decision, I see the universe start dying, stars and worlds blipping out of existence. As the years pass, the universe is void. Nothing in any direction. I mutter a few words to myself, and from every point in the universe is the centre of the beginning, new galaxies, stars worlds and matter entirely. I recreate my alien race, and ensure they cannot use magic, since my power is what triggered my people's demise.\n\nI give them a single world and tell them to fill the universe. I realize I cannot work alone, I am weak and old from what I've done, so I make a few magic capable beings, and do my best to ensure they have my values and desires. My people, my world is good. But what survived is not.\n\nI remade the universe fully, in 7,000 years. My age is 777 and my power is 1/7 of its original strength. What survived was an enraged colleague, who joined our organization later on. I found he started to shield himself from this specifically, and released himself 1,000 years ago. His age is 666, and his power is 1/6 of mine. I have dubbed him the word of opposition of my people, and after he corrupted my people away from me, I warned them of the dangers of Satan."
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[WP] You have a little devil on one shoulder and a little angel on the other. Both are trying to convince you to do something, when out of nowhere, a third being appears on top of your head.
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"It had been the worst day of my life. \n\nSince I was young, I knew I was a bit... off. My conscience, you see, manifested itself visibly to me. I know what you're thinking, but I was checked for schizophrenia. As far as medical science is concerned, I'm sane. \n\nThe guys on my shoulders have always said the same thing. There's two of them. An angel and a demon. Pretty standard, sure, but it can be entertaining. Somebody steals my seat? Angel says to be cool, devil says break his face. Find a lost wallet? Angel says turn it in, devil says keep it. Like I said, pretty standard.\n\nUntil today.\n\nI lost my wallet in a berbershop (where I was given an awful haircut, by the way) right before I rear-ended a cop. I was lucky to get out of going to jail. The devil would've had me punch him and run, but I'm not an idiot. He did have my car towed until I can prove registration, though. I walked over to my girlfriend's place and heard a struggle. Turns out, she wasn't struggling that much, she was really enjoying herself. So was my brother. At that point, even my conscience was in shock. The devil was shaking with rage and the angel shook it's head and muttered \"Damn, dude....\" \n\nI had the knife in my hand before I realized it, and my brother and now ex-girlfriend were looking at me with guilt, shame, and horror. I stalked towards them, the devil screaming \"DO IT! DO IT! THESE ASSHOLES HAVE IT COMING!\" The angel, for his part, sort of shrugged and said \"Man, I got nothin'.\" \n\nAnd then time seemed to stop. A beautiful white light appeared over my head. I heard a voice, beautiful and clear, call out to me.\n\n\"Jim, don't do it. It isn't worth the pain, and you have much to live for. Fill your heart with love, and it will guide you.\"\n\nThere was such peace, then. I dropped the knife, dropped to my knees, and said \"Thank you! Oh, I've been such a fool! What must I do to live a life full of love?\"\n\nThe voice hesitated, and spoke...\n\n\"I'm gonna need about tree-fiddy.\"\n\nIt was then I realized this glorious white light was a 500-foot tall lizard from the Paleolithic Era.\n\nThe angel on my should screamed \"Get outta here, ya goddamn Loch Ness Monster! We ain't givin' you no tree-fiddy!\"\n\nThe devil scowled, \"I already gave you a dollar.\"\n\nI was irate. \"You can't go givin' the goddamned Loch Ness Monster money! He won't leave!\" \n\nI sighed in defeat. That Goddamn Loch Ness Monster had gotten me again.",
"\"Hey, you should really ditch your parents.\"\n\n\"It's true, there are greater things than being condescended by your parents.\"\n\nI was gripping on my last threads of sanity,\"I'm trying to drive.\" I have no idea what is happening; I think I'm hallucinating. I don't think I took anything strange right? Do I have family history of schizophrenia? I mean, Uncle Joe is pretty weird at times but I don't think... \n\nI glanced to my right- a little figure with wings: *HOLY SH!T*... my left?- a little figure with horns: \"THE HELL?!\"\n\nMy head evidently turned into a washing machine.\n\n*This can't be happening. This can't be happening.*\n\n\"You might want to keep your eyes on the road..\" *What-*\n\nIt might have been a good idea to wear a seat belt while driving on the freeway.\n\nI open my eyes. *Did I survive?*\n\nThe head below me looks familiar... *Oh no*\n\n\"Welcome to the club!\"",
"\"KILL MAIM MURDER!\" yelled the glowing one with the halo.\n\"Dude. It's a baby. What harm is a baby?\" said the horned one.\n\n\"Shouldn't that be the other way around, you should be saying his thing and vice versa?\" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I gestured to the hallucinations on my shoulders.\n\nThe horned one laughed.\n\n\"See! Even he agrees with me! Now, you stop being... Evil to demonspawn halfhuman babies, and let me be the evil one here.\" it said.\n\n\"That creature is UNHOLY, an abomination unto the LAIRD!\"\n\n\"The... Laird? You mean Lord, right?\"\n\n\"Sorry, I SLURRED my words a bit.\"\n\n\"Fair enough. Still, why are you trying to convince me to kill my son?\" \n\n\"His mother... evil!\" the halo'd one spoke.\n\n\"So?\" I asked.\n\n\"You can't be serious. You have unwittingly bred with a broodmare of Hell, and now that you know the truth, you do not care?\"\n\nThe horned one laughed some more, and vanished to the Nether Regions, aka Hell.\n\n\"Don't talk about my wife like that, little cherubim. You know NOTHING. And, speaking of her, why don't we go over to her and let you say such things about her to her face?\" I grinned.\n\n\"That won't be necessary... I uh... Feel that...\" it tugged at its chiton.\n\n\"Oh, it'll only take a second, and the baby monitor is calibrsted so if there's any problems, I'll know. Oh sweetums~!\"\n\n\"Please, spare me!\" it begged, on its knees, its halo dimming in intensity.\n\nMy wife came into the room, her horns gleaming like polished onyx, her teeth yellow and sharp, her tongue a foot long, and her claws dripping with the poison her kind produce. Her eyes glowed, and her skin rippled with pustules and scarred tissue from wars long forgotten.\n\nShe looked at me, then at the angel.\n\n\"This creature made disparaging comments about you, and tried to get me to harm our little spawn here.\" I casually said.\n\nShe lunged at the angel, ripping off its wings in a quick motion, before devouring it whole.\n\n\"Dear, the day you came out from my cupboard and spoke to me was the best day of my life. I love you and will marry you one day.\" I said, looking at her adoringly as the flecks of divine blood splattered onto my lapel, and onto the face of our offspring.\n\nShe growled, which I took to mean as a 'yes'.",
"I am on the bridge.\n\nBelow, rough waters churn\n\nInside, I burn and burn.\n\nThe man beside me,\n\nSmiling falsehoods true.\n\nGiving away love\n\nTo me pledged due.\n\nHe thinks I know\n\nOf his mistress not.\n\nHe tells me his passion\n\nStill burns hot.\n\nBut I know it is not for me.\n\nAll our precious years\n\nLeave me worthless tears.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nHis smile looks so damning,\n\nThose lips I had learned to love.\n\nThe water looks so inviting,\n\nAn end to those above.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nBut my vice, its name is wrath.\n\nMy anger and scorn and shame\n\nDrive me horned thoughts that burn\n\nAnd curse his very name.\n\nI could step off this cautious edge,\n\nAnd with one wild kiss and embrace,\n\nReclaim forgiveness, unbidden, together,\n\nTo common end we meet, with gravity's grace,\n\nMy caution to the wind.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nBut my fear forbids it,\n\nLoud as my despair,\n\nFor I am not daring, more silent,\n\nThan the breeze in my hair.\n\nI am not brave to speak,\n\nNot brave enough to meet my fate\n\nFace to face, and not too late.\n\nCan I speak, and forgive?\n\n&nbsp;\n\nToo afraid to kill, to afraid to live.\n\nOh, what a mess, this love is.\n\nSweet parting never there was,\n\nNor truth in constancy.\n\nThese black heavens bear witness,\n\nLove is cruel, and cold.\n\nAnd for its joys and passions,\n\nTheir loss has aged me old.\n\nWhere do I fall now?\n\nThe virtue and vice might tell,\n\nFrom heaven a murderous fall,\n\nOr living forgiving hell.\n\nIn either path, I die.\n\nNo mercy on the bridge.\n\n&nbsp;\n\n*^~~Chose~~ ^~~your~~ ^~~favorite~~ ^~~ending~~ ^~~below~~*\n\nEdit: This is actually complete...",
"\"Come on! Open it!\" urged the little devil on my shoulder. \"Read it! Or better yet, just stuff it in your backpack.\"\n\nHe'd stopped using the phrase \"no one will notice\" long ago. I never took baits *that* obvious any more.\n\n\"I don't know,\" I answered in doubt as I weighed the book in my hands. \"It's not my book.\"\n\nIt was an old thick leather bound book. No title in any language I'd ever seen. One would find the strangest things some times, but this was not a book that was at home in a school library. I'd been here many times and never seen it.\n\n\"You really should bring it to librarian's attention.\" Another being butted in. A little angel shimmered into existence on my right shoulder.\n\nI quite liked her, when she wasn't being stubborn. She'd helped me make friends with Valorie. I blushed just at the thought. I think, I kinda liked Valorie.\n\n\"Screw that! You know it's not a schoolbook. That means it's totally up for grabs. It's probably even a book placed here by some pedophile freak. You'd be doing everyone a service by taking it. And the poor librarian is probably already overworked. Nothing good will come out of stressing her further.\" The little devil sighed as if in remorse of the poor librarian. He'd always had a flair for drama, I knew.\n\nI snuck a glance at the librarian in question. My best summation of her would be \"Grandma\". Old and kind. She liked me, I knew.\n\n\"No, please! We should at least ask her first. If it is really not a school book, then maybe you can keep it,\" the angel said hopefully. So like her to seek the middle ground, I thought fondly.\n\n\"I'll still read though,\" I put in. \"This is a weird book and I must admit to being curious.\"\n\n\"Yes!\" The devil made a rude gesture towards the angel. \"Suck it!\"\n\nI smiled at their antics. The little devil guy was a good company and one hell of an entertainer.\n\nThe little angel lady frowned for a moment. \"Fine, but then we're taking it straight to the librarian after.\"\n\n\"Oh, we'll see about that, Tinkerbell!\" The devil remarked, as their little spat began anew. but I was turning them out, as my eyes swept over the weird symbols and letters. I felt I could read it, but at the same time it was impossible. It was maddening.\n\nFrustrated yet determined, I tried reading aloud.\n\n\"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh C'thulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.\"\n\nThe guttural words flowed unnaturally from my mouth, yet flow they did. These were not the words I had seen, but I had been bidden to read them aloud. By whom? I did not know, but I answered. Time ceased as I read what was thrust upon me and for that moment I lost sense of self.\n\nThen I suddenly *was* again. In control of myself, but just staring out at nothing in the library. My hands were shaking and I was sweating like... No, I wasn't sweating. I was drenched. I was drenched in water. I could even smell the salty sea. I unwittingly shifted my balance and felt water around my shoes. The library was filled with water to my ankles. Worriedly, almost in reflex, I looked to my right, where my guardian angel sat.\n\nShe was terrified, her mouth open in a soundless scream.\n\nNo, it was not soundless. I just couldn't quite hear it, I realized. My mind was playing tricks on me and it was just right there, just out of reach. All my senses were muted, and I felt sluggish. She was looking beyond me. I followed her gaze, though I knew I didn't want to know.\n\nAn indescribable being of fangs, teeth, barbs, and hooks was wrapped around the little devil guy, who was struggling feverishly against his fleshy bindings, but the creature did not let go. Then, with a drawn out squeeze, the devil distorted unnaturally and blew into smoke and disappeared. Then it turned and I got a proper look at...\n\nI woke up some time later. I had blacked out. The school had investigated the water leak and had come up with some excuse. A sprung pipe? I didn't care. The book was gone. Same for my two friends. That day was the last time I ever saw my two guardians. Without them, the world was that much grayer. But it wasn't the worst. The thing, whatever it was... I knew it would come back.\n\nI was marked. It was only a matter of time. And then it would take me too.",
"“It is your decision. Whatever waves may rap against others is their fault for being in the water. Same as if you turn left instead of turning right.”\n\n“Mom, Sister, all those people who think you’re something. Not the ‘he’s a failure’ bullshit, straight up means you’re weak. Shit, some motherfuckers go 30 years. You’re already done?”\n\n“Wake up. BAM. In the shower. BAM. Angling the toothbrush softly against the gums. BAM. Every Second you are not thinking of action, you are thinking about this action. Right now, right after this, tomorrow, 15 years from now. You cannot live with that. No one can live with that. No one has to live with it but you.”\n\n“Use your brain man. You claim you always have, all this hindsight thinking you’re logical. You really think things couldn’t possibly change? In the entire history of humanity, nothing compared to the entire history of life, and you think one little firing connection hasn’t ever shifted? We both know it has, and we both know it will. It’s not hope, it’s inevitable. inevitable.”\n\nThe movement on the bridge was eerily consistent every morning. Even weekends. Brian was counting down the days until all the cyclists realized the calm. Though the foot traffic has always been dense, you get to know the people on your route: coffee and a newspaper, Mcgriddle and a Coke, Farmville and Tinder. Basically a wax museum with some moving parts, always the same faces. \n\nExcept. Is that somebody sitting on the outcrop? It’s too foggy to see anything, too cold to be relaxing. Brian’s never actually seen anybody use this place for the view, never seen anybody sit down on a bridge before.\n\nStepping behind the sitting man, Brian looks down and can see the desperate, thinning hair hiding the crown of the guy’s head.\n\n",
"You've just come to your senses again and you notice a sickening smell coming from... beneath you? You don't dare to lift an eyelid, but the gun is somewhere nearby, you know that. \n\nIt was going so well. The candles were pumpkin spice scented. The café walls were covered in chalkboard paint, just like the ones on your pinterest boards. Your manicure matched the mint thé vert latte you ordered, your followers would have double-tapped the foam outta that. Now you have to keep your eyes shut. You can feel something hot and hard penetrating you over and over again for what seems like hours, the walls inside you ripping into caverns. You twitch your fingers a bit, still so afraid. Yes, that's a couch you're on. The gun is still where it was when you closed your eyes. You know that this could still be even worse. \"Open your eyes\" you hear in both ears, a tiny whisper at each. The one on the left continues, \"and take the gun. You have to be fast\". The one on the right, sounding strangely like your mother, quickly adds \"but don't shoot. Just get his attention. Buy yourself time until help arrives\". At your left ear now, \"No, you must shoot. He's bigger than you, you can feel it. You can't keep him off if you hesitate with the gun, you know that. Take it now and make the kill\". This continues until you feel your ears might start to squirt blood, just like you know your sex is doing at the moment. They won't stop and everything is spinning, but you don't want to pass out again. You have to get a grip and without thinking, you open your eyes. That sweaty, puffy face in front of you, looking down at your breasts.\n\nThen you see him, sitting just above this monster's head, resting his feet on his wet brow. He's looking at you and he knows you see him. He can hear you think and you know it. \"What do you make of this?\", you ask. He says nothing. \"Who are you and what do you think I should do?\", you insist. He says nothing. He only stares into your eyes. He is not judging you, he does not feel sorry for you. He seems a little bored. Your frustration at his cool makes you lose yours. This foul beast, still madly thrusting looks up and meets your eye. You feel him soften a little inside you.\n\nThe couch was green, but the gun was gone.\n\nI layed you down on a dark bed the same distance from my dog as the one at which he rests from my new grill. Ten feet down, but not before I fucked you one last time because your body was still warm. Damnit, Stacey, you were so beautiful. Why did you have to open your goddamned eyes?",
"I was outside of a casino. I'd never been into one before, I would walk past on the way to work all the time, curious about the \"what if's?\"\n\n\"Go on in\" a small figure had materialized upon my left shoulder, it wore a black hooded cloak, if it had a face I couldn't make it out \"you'll make a fortune.\"\n\n\"No wait, don't go in\" another figure appeared upon my right shoulder, much like the first but wearing white \"you have responsibilities, if you lose that money you won't be able to support for family.\"\n\nI can't tell you why but I didn't feel crazy, I felt calm, these figures felt comforting, they proposed my \"what if\" questions and presented answers I wanted to hear. I took a chance and stepped into the casino. As I took that first step inside I half noticed the black hooded figure take something out of its cloak, it did something, then put it back.\n\nI registered to enter the casino, made my way over towards the counter to buy some gaming chips when one of the waitresses bumped into me, spilling cocktails all over and dropping the glasses she was carrying.\n\n\"Yell at her, demand compensation\" the first cloaked figure yelled immediately.\n\n\"No, apologize, forget about it\" said the other.\n\n\"I'm sorry miss\" I said instinctively and leaned down to help her pick up the mess. I can't be certain but I'm sure the white cloaked figure copied what the black cloaked figure did as I'd stepped into the building.\n\nOnce I finally got round to buying my chips I headed over to the roulette wheel and placed my wagers. It didn't take long. I had nothing left, but I wasn't stupid, I didn't spend what I couldn't afford.\n\nI turned to walk out the door.\n\n\"Yes, leave\" said the light. \n\n\"No, stay\" said the dark.\n\n\n\"Boys! Get home now!\" said a third voice. \n\nI looked up. There, a little larger than the others, in a red kitchen apron stood a creature I had never seen before, though not much unlike a human, albeit green, looking down at me with an apologetic look.\n\n\"I'm sorry dear, my boys like to play this silly game with you earthlings. I hope they didn't get you in to too much trouble. Now, come along\"\n\nI looked side to side, the boys pulled their hoods down and had the faces of little green children.\n\n\"But mooooom\" they said in unison. Pulling out notepads from their cloak to show proudly \"Look, it's one all! We only just started! Just one more choice! Pleeeeease.\"\n\nBut before I could interject, and without any response from the mother, they vanished just as quickly as they had appeared. \n\nI needed a drink.\n\n(My first attempt at this, just giving it a go for fun, hopefully it's not too awful :D)",
"\"Punch her in the nose!\" Fred (the demon's name) threw a few jabs at the air.\n\n\"No, curl up and block her, don't fight back, let the authorities handle this.\" I was getting the life beaten out of me by an ex-girlfriend. Of course nobody in the club was doing anything, they were all unsure what to do. They couldn't grab her, they could be charged with assault. But they also couldn't just do nothing, so to figure it out they didn't do anything.\n\n\"Kill the bitch! She deserves it!\"\n\n\"No. Let the law handle this, for now just try to stop yourself from getting hurt. You haven't wronged her, don't sully that now.\"\n\n\"Holy shit! What is this?\" A third being appeared on my head, this was new. Once or twice I saw Bill Clinton, but that was just a normal hallucination, not whatever this is.\n\n\"Who are you?\"\n\n\"Oh, me? Hi, I'm Frank. I think I'm supposed to be the Ego in this brain. Sorry I'm late.\"\n\n\"Uh, screw off Frank, we don't need you here.\"\n\n\"Frank, you're a great guy but not much help in this situation.\"\n\n\"Shut up and let me do my job please? Listen, Al. You can't punch her back, not unless you want to go to jail. But!\" He raised a hand to the angel, silencing her. \"You can't just sit here and take it, you're losing blood and by the time she's done you might be dead. So just grab her arms. Just kind of hold them. Everyone happy?\"\n\n\"No.\"\n\n\"Definitely not fuckwit.\"\n\n\"Perfect, means I did my job right.\" I finally got her under control by looping her arms to her back and holding her a bit like a pair of human handcuffs while the police arrived.\n\nThe angel and demon both harrumphed and left.\n\n\"So, you're my Ego?\"\n\n\"Yep, just stick with me and you'll go far. Well, maybe not far. But at least you won't be a complete loony like those two.\" With that he vanished into a puff of reason.",
"He stared at the screen, sweating. It was gold, fresh, amazing. He could rack up hoards of karma by reposting it off of /new.\n\n**Poof**\n\n\"Do it. Snag that image, upload it again with a new URL, and downvote this sucker's post.\"\n\n*~Poof~*\n\n\"Don't listen to The Left Side. He wants to mislead you, upvote the post, leave a comment and move on. If you're witty enough you could even get some comment karma when it hits the top. It's a really good joke.\"\n\n\"Look man, The Right Side isn't looking out for you like I am. What's comment karma when you could have some sweet link karma? His title sucks, dude. Give it that good title you thought of. You'd be rollin' in it! You'd even get gold!\"\n\n\"You could also get gold if you left a good comment.\"\n\nNervously he stared at the post. He refreshed the page. Still no other votes. He was the only one. The balance still rested with him. At 4:03 AM, on this day, he held the power. A few thousand away from 100k total karma, it could bring him into a new club. A new lounge to lounge in. A new world was on his doorstep. But he'd been warned by the mods before. He wasn't so subtle in the past. Was it really worth the risk? The Sides each made their own good points. \n\nRefreshing the page, still no votes. He still had the power.\n\n*^Poof*\n\n\"Hey man, uh, why don't you just go to sleep or watch porn or something? You're so close to 100k, but like, does it matter? Who are you gonna brag to about that? Your shift starts in a few hours man, get some rest.\"\n\nDamn, thought the man. He closed his laptop and went to bed. ",
"\"They're both idiots.\" Two thuds echoed off my skull as tiny laced sneakers appeared in the interior corners of my eyes. I glanced worriedly to either shoulder but found the pitchfork-wielding and Harp-strumming paragons still standing there. Well, The angel was floating, but honestly the idea was the same.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nEyes bored into the sides of my head from the two.\n\n\n\"Just look at them.\" Twin thuds cracked again. \"They don't do anything but talk.\"\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"How are you better? Kicking me in the head isn't gonna sway me to your cause.\" I reached up and made to grab the being, but felt nothing as my hand swished over my hair.\n\n\n\"Honestly, you've never tried that with those bozos? And for kicking, I have to make sure you don't go crazy.\"\n\n\n\"Don't go crazy? I'm talking to a bunch of imaginary people that noone else can see or hear.\"\n\n\n\"Like I said, Gotta keep you on the right track!\" \n\n&nbsp;\n\nA final thud echoed off my skull and the sneakers disappeared. I forced myself to go cross-eyed until my head started hurting, then glanced back to the paragons. To my surprise they were both gone. I looked back at the joint in my hand and dropped it before walking out from behind dollar general.",
"I held the gun firmly, pointing it at my assailant. \nMy shoulder angel scolded me. \"He may have broken in, but that still doesn't give you the right to hurt him!\"\nI grimaced. \"I know, I know... but he came in armed!\"\nThe little devil on the other shoulder, sneered, \"Yeah, and he would have used it too! Show him what happens to people who try to shoot ya!\"\nI nodded, though still unsure.\n\"But you have his gun, now!\" The angel pleaded. \"Call the police, let justice be served the right way!\"\nMy aim was no longer as sturdy. But the shady character that tried to steal my Amiibo collection, he began to smile. Oh crap...\n\nJust then, a poof of dust appeared over my head, and a little yellow African Hooey Hound was resting on my head! My shoulder angel and devil looked hella confused.\n\n\"HO CRAP, ITS YOU! THAT RANDOM ASS JEEP THING FROM POPEYE!\"\nEugene the Jeep nodded fiercely, smiling a tricksters smile. In another poof, he turned the assailant into a pile of salami.\n\n\"COOL!\" I shouted. Neither shoulder being had a single word to say. The devil guy just stammered.\n\nThe Jeep landed in my arms and winked seductively at me.\n\n\"AWESOME! Now I can take you to my dying rich grandfather! He'll get a kick out of you!\"\n\nAnd indeed he did. When grandpa saw his favorite childhood character in real life, he squealed and ordered that his will be changed, and that his entire estate be left to yours truly. Now I live in his giant mansion full of chocolate fountains and pigmy hippo rides. \n\nHappily Ever After\n\nThe End.\n\nOh, and I had the other two guys shot.\n",
"For all my life I felt like I had 2 choices. Do \"the right thing\", as the angel on my right shoulder would say it. Or to \"have some fun\", like the devil on my left would phrase it. In school for instance. I saw a guy cheating. \"This is a great opportunity,\" the devil told me, \"this guy knows what he's doing. If you just lean over a bit, you'll get an A on this one for sure.\" \"No,\" the angel exclaimed, \"you must do what is right and turn him in to the teachers. Cheating is, after all, bad.\" \"You know what's also bad? Failing. Come on, Jim. You know I'm right.\"\nI sided with the devil on that one. It turned out alright, I got an A like the devil said. But it didn't always turn out like this when I sided with him. You see, in college I had this girlfriend. We were pretty serious about stuff. But we had a fight. Big time. Not one of those silly ones, no, this was serious. I was bummed out about it. I was mad. And then a girl flirted with me. The angel told me to stay faithful, the devil knew I would listen to him on this one. I was emotional. I cheated on her. Long story short, she found out, left me, and I was miserable. \n\nBut siding with the angel wasn't always good either. Way back, in elementary school, there was this fight between two kids. Ryan and Jeffrey. I'll be honest, they were both giant assholes. Ryan would pick on me, not too severe though. He did that too everybody but his friends. Jeffrey was a bit... agressive too. The difference between them was that Ryan was a manipulative asshole, while Jeffrey was an angry asshole. So they went fighting after school. The whole class is there, as am I. And Jeffrey beats the living shit out of Ryan. Broke his nose, if I recall correctly. Anyway, Ryan goes whining to the teacher, ratting Jeffrey out, who flat-out denied the whole thing. So here's where I come in. They asked a whole bunch of kids who did it. They all claimed not to know. But my angel encouraged me. He said I should \"do the right thing\", a phrase he is really overusing. I listened, and Jeffrey made the rest of elementary school hell. But the angel has also made me make good decisions. Found the wallet from some guy once, and that angel convinced me to return it to the owner, who gave me a $300 reward, as opposed to the $50 the wallet contained.\n\nBut today was different. I was once again, faced with a difficult decision. One of a totally different nature than the other ones. Perhaps even the most difficult decision of my life. My brother, James. He was my best friend. Turned out he was a criminal of some kind. I found out when I went to my cabin. He stood there, with some big guy tied to a chair, holding a knife to his throat. As soon as he saw me, he stood up. \"I uh, I...I can explain.\" he stammered. But I didn't listen to him. I had my angel, and my devil. I grabbed the gun I saw, lying around on the table and pointed it at my brother. \"Shoot him. He is dangerous. He has killed a lot of people.\" I couldn't believe my angel was advising me to kill him. \"No, you wouldn't shoot your family, now, would you? Shoot that guy in the chair, trust me, you'll do the world a favor. And then you and your brother can clean up the streets. You know... it is the right thing to do.\" He used that very line the angel had convinced me with so many times. \"Oh, what do you know about doing the right thing?\" the angel asked. \"I know when it is the smarter move. What surprises me is that you, of all creatures, advise him to kill his brother. You're supposed to be all for the morally good thing, aren't you?\" \"Let, let me explain, please, I beg you!\" my brother called out. \"Shut up and let me think!\" As I shouted that, something happened. Something... new. Above my head, out of nothing, a new guy appeared. Instead of resembling an angel or a devil, he looked like... me. \"There's always a third option. Just walk away. Move out of the state, cut ties with your brother. Just walk out that door.\" And so I did. ",
"\"You could take it! Just pick up the wallet, see if there is money inside, and then just shove it in your pocket!\" Said the small horned figure on his left. \"No one would know and you'd possibly have extra money.\"\n\n\"NO!\" interjected the equally small winged creature on his right. \"Someone must have valuables and other things of importance in the wallet. You should do the right thing and take it to the police. Let them find the proper owner.\"\n\n\"Or you could just walk past it without doing anything.\" came a third reply. On top of the mans head sat a normal looking being wearing blue jeans, a sweatshirt, and tying the laces on a pair of Converse Chuck Taylors.\n\nThe angel and the demon both looked up, puzzled at the appearance of the third party.\n\n\"I don't know about you,\" said the newcomer, \"but both those options seem mentally tasking. The easiest way, for me, would be to just pass it like you didn't even know it was there. Let it be someone else's moral dilemma.\"\n\nThe main human looked to his shoulder buddies who both seemed to shrug and nod in agreement. So he continued on his way, passing the wallet without so much as a second glance. "
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[WP] Everyone starts staring at you, when you ask them why, they deny ever staring.
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"Each day a thousand sunken eyes fall upon my face. They know the things I've done, yet when I look back into their eyes I cannot see a single word of their story, only that they are tales of despair and loss.\n\nI convince myself they cannot understand the things I've seen, the atrocities committed nor the reasons behind them. I do them because the ends justify the means. I am neither proud nor ashamed.\n\nTheir eyes lie in rows in the darkness of ramshackle huts, peering out from under filthy blankets, through the window glass laminated with frost. They think I do not sense them, but I do. \n\nTheir dry eyes sit so far back into the skull and barely take anything in. I wonder if they are looking at me but I persuade myself if they are looking through me and past the barbed wire and watchtowers to the wooded countryside beyond.\n\nThey have run out of tears. They barely blink, sunken eyelids that barely keep out the ashes of those they once cherished that swirl through the dry, frozen air.\n\nEven after degradation to such a primitive state they are always looking, taking details in. Will they remember this when they see Him? Is that why they look? To take in the last vestiges of an unforgiving world that has no place for them?\n\nIt's May, another batch are whipped and beaten and chased into a line, children cling to mothers. All stand shivering. It isn't very cold. As they are lead to the chambers I challenge one of the old men, \"why do you stare? What do you see?\". His eyes are on mine but there is nothing behind them; no soul, no hope, no light. They were lost years ago.\n\nYears later, as I stare down the barrel of a rifle, I asked the same question to myself and was given the same answer the old man gave me.\n\n\"Even when you think that all hope is gone and lost, you must keep your eyes open to find the light and good\".\n\nI closed my eyes.",
"Finally someone had thrown a decent party. Not one of those tacky themed parties either, you know the one's where everyone has to dress up in some ridiculous costume. Nope just some decent background music, plenty of people and plenty of beer. Fisher helped himself to another one out the fridge.\n\n\n\"Hey Fisher!\" Fisher glanced across the room to see his old room mate Chris. \n\nFisher threw up his hand, \"Hey man, good to see you, great party by the way.\"\n\nChris sipped on a beer \"Yeah it was just one of those spur of the moment things.\"\n\nFisher nodded his head in understanding.\n\"Yeah, Kathrine wanted to do an 80's party, just wasn't enough time though\" Fisher gave Chris a sideways glance \"Thank god for that,\" he thought to himself. He swirled his beer around and glanced around the crowd before taking another drink. \n\nThe music stopped. Everyone stopped talking mid-sentence. The blonde with the annoying laugh was stopped mid-hysterics. As he stared at her he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Slowly everyone's head had started to swivel towards Fisher. Soon they had locked eyes with him, their faces remained in whatever poise they were in before the music stopped. The blonde still had her smile, mouth wide open in laughter. That guy from his building stared at him as though Fisher was hitting on his girlfriend. \n\n\"Uh Chris, are you seeing this?\" Fisher whispered.\n\n\"Seeing what man?\" The music resumed, people's head snapped back to there original position and they continued talking as though nothing had happened. Chris was still craning his neck trying to catch a glimpse of what Fisher was looking at. \n\nFisher stared at his beer incredulously, \"Um, nothing.\" \n\n\"You alright man?\" Chris stared at him funnily.\n\n \"Yeah. Wait. So you didn't just see that?\" \n\nChris continued staring,\"See what?\"\n\n\"Everyone! They just stopped moving, tell me you saw that!\" Fisher stared at Chris pleadingly. \nChris leaned in and whispered \"Dude, tell me your not high right now. You know Kat hates when people come over high.\" \n\n\"I'm not high man! I swear everyone at the party was just staring at me!\" Fisher screamed. The party stopped again, this time everyone was staring at Fisher while whispering. \"Dude calm down, no one was staring at you,\" Chris said under his breath. \"He's just messing around guys, we're fine\". Everyone looked away and continued drinking, save for the occasional glance Fisher's way.\n\n\"Whatever man, I need to go.\" Fisher walked away from Chris before he could stop him. \n\n\"Alright dude, just call me! Kat's throwing a tiki party next week!\" \nFisher walked his way through the crowd, he saw the door up ahead and reached for it. His hand stopped mid-way there. So did the music. \n\n\"Shit.\" Fisher turned his head slowly back towards the crowd. They were already staring at him. The blonde's grin got wider. The guy from his building's stare narrowed. Fisher's heart was pounding in his chest, he screamed at them, \"What the fuck do you want?!\" \n\nThey stared.\n \n \n\n"
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[WP]Harry Potter is 18 years old, and he is finally admitting himself to rehab. Magic isn't real, it's just a drug-induced figment of his imagination. He's making an honest effort to come to terms with the harsh reality.
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"\"My name is Harry,\" the boy started. His voice wavered. He looked around the circle, squinting at the flicker of the fluorescent lights. It was a very diverse group of about 20 people. All ages, genders, and races were pretty equally represented. Most of them had coffee in white styrafoam cups, and several were smoking cigarettes. There was a general feeling of antsyness in the room; some were agitatedly twirling their hair, while others bit there lips nervously, and knees could be seen manicly bouncing up and down. But they were quiet and attentive. The boy named Harry cleared his throat before speaking again. \"And I'm an addict in recovery.\"\n\n\"Hi, Harry.\" The group chorused mechanically. \n\nHarry had finally hit rock bottom. It wasn't time first time, but this time was different. Exactly two weeks ago he had stumbled into the clinic, sweating and shaking, and mumbling about being on the Cruciatus Curse, whatever that is. He managed to check in before collapsing on the floor.\n\nThe next days were the worst he had ever experienced. Locked in his room, he alternated between the realistic torture of the drugs leaving his system, and long bouts of revisiting his alternate world; a world in which he is a wizard. \n\n\"You foolish Muggles!\" He would roar, pounding on the door! \"Open this at once, or I'm gonna apperate out of here and return with my wand! The last person you want to mess with is a soon-to-be Auror!\"\n\nEventually he would collapse into a fit of unrestful sleep. \n\nOn the third day he woke up to the food hatch opening. The smell of breakfast filled the room.\n\n\"Hungry?\"\n\n\"No, thirsty though.\"\n\n\"How are you feeling?\"\n\nHarry laughed. \"How do I look?\" His sweaty face was puffy, and his glasses had somehow broken again. \n\nThe pair of eyes surveyed him for a moment. \"It only gets better.\" He said simply. \"Oh, I almost forgot, you have mail.\" And he pushed a water bottle and an envelope inside before closing the hatch. \n\nHarry looked at the envelope. There was no sender name, just his name and address of the clinic. He wondered for a moment who would have written him. He hadn't been close to anyone for a few years, as his addiction had gotten worse and worse. Ron had been in jail for 3 years, and had 5 to go. Harry tore open the envelope. Out fell a single handwritten page of stationery. \nHarry pressed one half of his broken glasses to his face and began reading. \n\n*Dear Harry,\n\nI know we haven't spoken since freshman year of high school, but I had to write you when I heard the good news! We haven't been close lately, but I'm so so happy to hear you are finally tackling your addiction. I won't pretend to know what you're going through, but just know I'm thinking of you! \n\nHarry, do you remember that time in middle school when that bully Tim was harassing me in the hallway, and you jumped on that troll's back and you and Ron fought him off? That's exactly the person I'll always see you as(Minus all of that snot, ugh!), because that's who you are! \n\nPlease write me back Harry, I'm here for you. I hope to see you soon!\n\nLove, Hermione.*\n\nHarry put the letter down carefully, and buried his face in his pillow. His eyes burned as tears rushed to them. And he let go. His whole body shook as he cried silently. He cried because he was an orphan, cast away by his extended family. He cried because of the years wasted feeding his addiction. He cried because of the relationships squandered over the years. He cried until he could no more. \n\nHe stood up to look in the mirror. \"I'm going to change.\" he said, to a tearful reflection. And he meant it. And he lifted his hand to cover the 9^3/4 tattoo on his neck. \n\n\n\n",
"\"But Voldemort was *evil!* I don't care how fucked up I was, the guy must have done *something* wrong.\" \nThe psychiatrist shook her head. \n\"No Harry. Tom Riddle was just a friend of your father and mother, he cared for you and tried to break through the wall of delusion you'd surrounded yourself with.\" \nHarry turned the handcuffs on his wrists; they were tight. \n*\"Alohomora\"* he whispered. \nThe psychologist gave him a pained look. \n\"Magic isn't real. You can't unlock those without an ordinary key.\" \nHarry fixed her with a steely glare through his battered spectacles, a demented grin splitting the three weeks of beard he refused to shave. \n\"If it isn't real, then how did you, a muggle, know it was an unlocking charm?\" \nShe patted the massive stack of notes beside her, \n\"I have it all written here, mister Potter. All your 'adventures' at 'Hogwarts'. From the spiders in the forest to you defeating the 'dark lord'.\" \nHarry slumped back in his chair. The ward psychiatrist's office was neat and pleasantly furnished. Nothing in it spoke of the world he'd been in, over the last ten years. \n\"How...\" he began, his jaw working, \"how did it begin? In real life I mean, not inside my... delusions.\" \n\"It began when drug dealers shot and killed your parents. Then your uncle, Rueben Hagerty, took you into custody.\" \n\"Hagrid.\" \nShe sighed and closed her notebook. \n\"I think that's enough for today, Harry.\" \n\"Look, I'm *trying*,\" he whined, \"from my perspective this could all be some plot of the remnants of the Death Eaters, trying to get revenge for for me defeating Volde-\" \nHe faltered, then gave her a shame faced expression. \n\"How exactly did I... ?\" \n\"You stabbed him to death. Forty eight stab wounds, mostly to the face and neck.\" \nScrubbing at his temples with his cuffed hands, Harry glanced around the room anxiously, his knees jittering, \n\"I want to go back to Hogwards. *Please* take me back.\" \nWith a sympathetic expression, the psychiatrist lifted the receiver of her desk phone and called for the orderlies. \n\"It's alright Harry, the orderlies will take you back to Hogwarts. They'll give you a potion to take you back.\" \nShe hated lying to him, but whenever she raised the murder of Tom Riddle, the young man would always regress. \nAs the orderlies picked him up, he turned to face her and smiled, \n\"Thank you professor Rowling. I'll see you in class tomorrow?\" \nShe smiled, \n\"Of course Harry.\" \n"
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(P.S. It doesn't necessarily have to be your page. It can be anyone's (or anything's) page, as long as you talk about discovering something horrible.)
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[WP] In the near future, everyone in the world has a Wikipedia page that is kept up to date with unsettling accuracy by mysterious anonymous contributors. One day, while browsing Wikipedia, you happen across your page and make a disturbing discovery.
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"My page wasn't weird because of what was on it, but rather, what wasn't; namely, *anything*. I just didn't have one. Straight up: *Zuh?*\n\nI mean, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little insulted. Heck, *a lot* insulted. Did the NSA or whatever consider me that insignificant? My little bro had one and he couldn't even walk or talk; both of which I considered myself pretty proficient in, and you'd think, would be some kind of prerequisite. But nope. Here was his page with the exact time and place of birth, conception, you name it, and mine still drew blanks.\n\nAnyway, I continued with my life. Trust me, I wish I could claim something jazzy or exciting or awesome happened, but it didn't. I just went to school, work, and slept. For like, *years.* Nothing really notable happened even when I killed a guy.\n\nOh yeah, I killed a guy.\n\nWell, killed makes it sound a lot more dramatic than it was to be honest, it was more like, what would you call it, 'involuntary manslaughter'? Negligence and all that - I hadn't meant to kill him, swear!\n\nBut whatever, he died in a work related kerfuffle when I wasn't paying attention and I freaked the fuck out and I grabbed his body, and went to my car, and deposited the body, and drove out to some dirt, and then got out my car, then swore a lot, drove to a home depo, bought a shovel, drove back, dug a hole, then deposited the body, and got rid of the hole. \n\nAnd the weirdest thing? His page read suicide.\n\nJust to be clear, these pages are *super fucking exact*. My aunt killed herself and the thing hadn't spared any detail the last I checked. It talked about how she had picked out a knife, what she'd drunk, how she'd cut, etc.\n\nAnd this was no different. This page detailed the guys entire 'suicide' in riveting detail. Except, of-course, I knew it was all bullshit. I knew he hadn't gone a little crazy what with his wife leaving him and his drinking problem, yada yada. I'd 'involuntarily manslaughter'ed him, and apparently, it wasn't even notable.\n\nAt this point, I admittedly went a little crazy...\n\nI killed the women next door. The how doesn't matter so much as the fact that this too was reported a suicide.\n\nSo I killed her neighbor - not me obviously, her *other one* - and left a note. It read:\n\n*This was not a suicide. I killed them. PS: Sorry about the mess.*\n\nDo you want to guess what the page said? If you said anything that wasn't 'suicide', you're a fucking idiot.\n\nBut uh, yeah, you can probably tell I got a little mad at this point, in more ways than one, so, err, I kinda killed that neighbor's neighbor. Why they hadn't evacuated this street pronto, I'll never fucking know, but whatever.\n\nSo I killed them - a family this time; three kids, by all accounts lovely - and sat at the crime scene. Just waited. *For ages*. Finally, the police rocked up.\n\n\"Hello,\" said the deputy, \"How's it?\"\n\nI sat uninvited at a dinner table with five dead people and no response.\n\n\"Shame about this here suicide, ain't it?\"\n\n\"Zuh?\" I croaked.\n\nHe gestures, \"This family, lovely by all accounts you know, a real shame.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I said, \"Their page said they were lovely.\"\n\n\"Mmm.\"\n\n\"Do you want to make yourself scarce so we can clean up laddie?\"\n\nI just didn't get it. Just. What. So I voiced my opinion...\n\n\"Oh,\" said the deputy as he stroked his 'stache, \"I suppose it won't hurt to tell you now.\"\n\nHoly shit, he was going to tell me--\n\n\"They just wanted to see what would happen.\"\n\n\"Huh?\"\n\n\"Well, hmm,\" he mused, \"You ever heard about the ring of Gyges?\"\n\n\"No?\"\n\n\"Well, look up his page, I can't be arsed explaining it. The gist is, they wanted to see what would happen.\"\n\nI gesture around, at the blood soaked walls, at the bodies, \"And what now, I mean, that they've seen what happens?\"\n\n\"Well, I'm not them and I don't really speak for 'em, but I suppose they'll want to see what happens now that you know that they want to see what happens?\"\n\n\"Oh.\"\n\nAnyway, blah blah blah. The basic gist of my life is this: Nothing notable ever happened, not even me. ",
"First story, please give constructive criticism.\n\nI didn't like to call myself important exactly. I just was your average man, clock in, clock out, and that's how it was. But if you had a memoir about yourself that you didn't write, would you *not* see it once every month or so?\n\n It was just a regular Sunday morning. I didn't think it was wrong to check it out right now, it was a month or two since I last looked. I quickly skimmed the page, trying not to see the one thing everyone dreaded: the death date. The death date was the end of every good feeling, the usual start of adult depression. I didn't mean to see it, but I did.\n\nRobert Thompson: August 15, 2043-November 6, 2087.\n\nMy heart dropped. I checked the calendar, I checked the calendar, I checked the *FUCKING* calendar and got a cold sweat.\n\nThe calendar said December 23, 2087."
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[WP] You and a lone stranger share an otherwise deserted carriage on a late night express train heading out of the city.
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"Her watched beeped midnight, as she sat looking out of the window into the darkness of the surrounding night. The click-clack of the wheels on the rails echoed lightly in the empty passenger car. Light from the occasional house she passed illuminated her face for a few seconds, then fled away from her as it seemed everything else in her life had done.\n\nShe heard the door between the cars open, and saw him step through. She watched as he walked toward her, then turned and sat down in a seat across the aisle. He looked out the window on his side of the train, and watched the world speed past them.\n\n“Nice night for a ride”, he said quietly.\n\nShe glanced over at him, but he didn’t move or look her way. He just sat there, watching the world out of the darkened window. Maybe he hadn’t actually said anything. Maybe she just imagined it.\n\nAs she turned back to her own thoughts, and the view out of her window, he spoke again.\n\n“So, where ya headed tonight?\n\nAs she looked back at him, he had turned to face her. “Anywhere”, she said simply. “Anywhere, but where I’ve been.”\n\n“And where have you been that makes you need to run away in the middle of the night”, he asked. “There must be someone who’s missing you right now.”\n\n“There’s no one missing me tonight, or any other night”, she said. “And I’m just so tired of just being a small town girl. There has to be something else, somewhere else. Maybe, for me, there’s someone else…”, she trailed off. “I’m so tired of this lonely world I’m in”.\n\nA silence lingered around them, broken only by the rhythm of the rails beneath their feet. \n\n“So what’s your story”, she asked of him.\n\n“Never been out to the small towns, myself. Always stuck to the city. But tonight, I’ve also got the urge for something new. I’ve got a feeling that anywhere has got to be better than this. You feel it too. That’s why we’re both here, tonight. There’s a better place for us out there; we both need to believe it.”\n\nHis eyes locked with hers. “Don’t stop believing.”",
"\"I fancy your hat, sir.\" The well-dressed man sitting across from me said, a trace of a British accent gilding his words. \n\n\"Umm... Thanks.\" I wasn't sure how to respond since it was a just a Yankees ball cap. \"I, uh, like your whole outfit.\" Seemed like a reasonable response, since he was dressed like he just stepped off the set of *Titanic*, maybe as one of the steerage extras. These hipsters seem to be going whole hog nowadays. \n\n\"I must say, I've never seen a hat like it before. Is it from Paris? I only ask because I know how quickly the styles change and it seems to all emanate from there.\" He was getting inquisitive now.\n\n\"Umm... I think I bought it at Foot Locker a few years ago.\" This was getting weirder by he second. \n\n\"Someone's foot locker, you say! Most curious. I must hear more of this story. Do tell, sir.\" His face was full of genuine surprise and curiosity. \n\n\"It's a shoe and clothing store.\" \n\n\"A haberdashery *and* a cobbler? What a brilliant idea!\" He paused for moment, then exclaimed \"I must speak with my brother about such a venture when we reach New York. He's in banking, but it shouldn't be terribly difficult to cobble together the funds for such a venture, if you'll forgive the pun.\"\n\n\"I think you're on the wrong train. This one doesn't go to New York. We're on our way to Tokyo.\" \n\n\"What?! I must speak with the ticket collector. Pardon me, sir.\" He bustled out the door quickly. \n\nI quickly got up to tell him there was no ticket collector. \n\n\"Hey buddy, there-\" I stopped as I stuck my head out the door to the small cabin. \n\nThere was no one there. ",
"My head rests on the window and I stare at the reflection. He is unmoving and I think for a moment he is dead. Sunken eyes and pale brown skin. Handsome once, a lifetime ago. The years have not been kind. The suit is baggy, ill fitting like it belongs to someone else. Even the wedding ring bobbles across bony fingers. Only the wrist band fits. I can't look any longer, there were no mirrors in there. I close my eyes and focus on the vibration against my face. \n\nSomeone else is here. She's a row over. She sticks out on the empty train like a tarantula on a wedding cake. And now I notice all the webs. They are everywhere. Her skin is dark like mine was. She wears a red and black dress, the colors sectioned into triangles. She's tall and lithe. She crosses her eight legs and they are longer than the train. \n\nI'm staring and she knows it. She fixes me in her gaze. Eight eyes glitter in the passing rail signal and I might cry. Her mouth parts slightly as she rises from her seat and glides across the webs to sit in front of me.\n\nI'm afraid of spiders I mumble and fidget with my ring. \n\nShe tilts her head slightly. We're all afraid of something. Her voice is velvet.\n\nAre you afraid of me? I say.\n\nShould I be? None of her eyes blink and it makes me nervous. I can't look at her. I regard my reflection in the window. \n\nI could be a murderer.\n\nAre you?\n\nNo, I say returning my eyes to hers. Only two and now I can see her face. She looks disappointed. Maybe, I shrug. I can't remember.\n\nShe takes a moment to consider my response. Why are you afraid of spiders? One of her hands removes a cigarette and lighter from her purse. It's a small purse but has weight to it. I know there's a gun inside.\n\nWhen I was six my father took me and my mom to his grandfather's old farm, I say. At midnight he took me out into the field with a flashlight. My mind drifts like the smoke and I watch it curl up and around the non-smoking sign.\n\nWell what was out there? She looks around for an ash tray and let's out a frustrated sigh then dumps the ashes on the window seal. Spiders?\n\nHe turned the flash light on and waved it over the field, I say. There were tiny lights. Thousands. Trillions. He said each one of those little lights was a spider, and if I ever told anybody what he did that night he would feed me to them. Then he took me to the truck and we left.\n\nThere's a long silence and then she asks if I'm married.\n\nNo, I say. She looks at the ring I've been twirling. \n\nWhere are you headed? \n\nI tell her I just needed to leave. I bought a ticket for the soonest departure.\n\nDo you want to come with me? She adjusts her dress and returns the lighter to her purse. It drops in and I can hear metal clink on metal. I look away from her, back to the window. Here she still has eight eyes. The webs are all around me now. \n\nYes, I say a few seconds or years later.\n\nBut I could be a murderer, she says.\n\nAre you? She catches my eyes in the reflection and smiles for the first time. I can feel the webs tighten around me but I don't feel anxious. I feel at home.\n\n\n(Yes the transition between actions and dialogue is vague and sloppy. It's intentional.)",
"Frost slowly crept over the windows, blurring anything outside. The wind howled against the sides of the carriage, and the tracks cackled constantly beneath the train.\n\nFew sights could have been bleaker than that of the lone express train charging through the frozen wilderness.\n\nThe interior of the luxury carriage happened to be one of those sights.\n\nCobwebs climbed over the unlit chandeliers. The peeling wallpaper lay upon the dusty carpet, scattered about here and there like so many red-golden snakes. A lone candle - sitting in the center of the chaos - struggled mightily to beat back the darkness of the night.\n\nThe man who lit the candle settled back into his faded armchair with a contented sigh. For the briefest of moments, I could see his face, right before it disappeared back into the shadows.\n\nIt was a worn face - bald head, wrinkled brows, and large, empty eyes that roamed about the carriage without emotion.\n\nAnd so we sat in the shadows, wordless and sightless, both of us watching as the candlelight shivered and jumped while moths circled around the flame, a morbid sight of an ancient, ritualistic dance of death.\n\n\"So,\" he said at length. \"What's your story?\"\n\n\"Story?\"\n\n\"Why are you here?\" At this point, he leaned forwards into the candlelight - looking like a disembodied head that materialized from the shadows.\n\nWordless, I glanced out of the window, hoping to find some excuse to stall this line of inquiry. The only thing that came to sight was the frost that covered the window.\n\n\"Does it really matter?\" I asked at last. \"I'm not going to mess with you. Really, the only question that matters now,\" and I stare back out of the window. \"Is whether you plan to mess with me.\"\n\nWe watched as the first moth caught fire, struggling heroically as it fell down to the carpet in a smouldering pile.\n\n\"No,\" he said, staring at the moth. \"I suppose it doesn't matter after all.\"\n\nAnd the train clattered on, further and further north, oblivious to the worries of its passengers."
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[WP] One day people begin turning into an anthropomorphic version of their spirit animal.
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"The soft morning light pouring on my bed marked the beginning of a new day. I slowly sat up and rubbed my eyes. A tiny white feather fell on a bedsheet besides me. It must have escaped the pillow. As I was dragging my rather unrested body towards the bathroom, I felt strangely empowered, as if a small cluster of light was placed somewhere within my ribcage, the light making me comfortable. I felt home. I dropped my t-shirt on the floor before stepping into the shower. A surge of feathers swamped my feet, I glanced to the mirror and a creature with round wings was staring at me. Those were indeed wings, yes, milk white, round and shining as a couple of midday suns. Strangely, I wasn't scared. Frankly, not even surprised. You see, I always knew I could fly. I dived into the yellow dress left on the washing machine, I ran to the window, I opened it widely. The sun was already above the horizon, the light was pouring into the apartments of people, the people were pouring out of their apartments, a bit confused, a bit surprised, with the tails of colorful feathers marking their way. Somebody started singing. It sent shivers down my estranged spine. The new day has started, I realised. I stood up on the windowsill and raised my wings.",
"Charlie never considered himself part of the furry fandom. The process of dressing in a fur-suit and soliciting sex at conventions never really appealed to him but yet his collection of bear outfits that he donned in his mother's basement gradually got larger. \n\nThen one day while lounging \"full bear\" in the basement, something came over him. He decided that he was going to be who he was, proudly. So he collected his human clothes into a plastic garbage bag and walked upstairs and outside, depositing them in the recycling bin. \n\nStriding confidently back into the house, he heard a noise in the kitchen. it was his mother. It was about time she learned the truth. He decided right then to tell her of his furry obsession. \n\nSo walking into the kitchen, he was startled by white feathers. His mother was wearing a feathered outfit and a beak mask. \n\n\"Son,\" she said. \"I have something to tell you.\"\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] Suddenly and inexplicably, the brain stops being affected by stimulants, hallucinogens, and other drugs. Describe the cultural shift from the perspective of a college student who is addicted to coffee.
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"I've never felt sympathy for drug addicts or criminals. I never understood; these people made a choice to break the law. On several occasions I've made the choice to drink alcohol underage, but I've never understood being so addicted to something you'd break any law to get it.\n\nI think I understand now.\n\nHow a seemingly innocent pleasure can turn to addiction, to desperation, to criminality, and from there it just spirals out of control. \n\nThat's where I'm at right now... Spiraling out of control...\n\nWhen it all started I was a senior in college. About to graduate with a bachelor in neuro-biology and a minor in chemistry. I was just finishing an internship at an advanced research lab working on creating technological brain enhancement devices. Things were complicated in my life, school was a huge commitment, one thing that got me through it was coffee, wonderful, warm, delicious coffee. I truly needed it to live. I was addicted. \n\nOne day I had my usual cup from the Keurig, but it really wasn't cutting it. I made another and left to the lab. by the time I got there I still felt like I had just woken up. \n\nAnxiety began to take over as soon as I saw my co-workers. They all looked exactly how I felt. None of them got anything from their coffee either. We all knew something wasn't right. \n\nI left the lab and began to walk around the university's campus. Everyone in the English department was sober. The fine arts building reeked of weed... but not a single student was high. I saw engineering students snorting line after line after line of coke, evidently their graduation binge was interrupted. It was the same story all over, every drug had suddenly and inexplicably stopped working. \n\nBy the time I made it back to the lab, every professor in the building had gathered there together and was coming up with theories for what was happening. \n\nOn the news everyone was shouting out theories, there was one explanation that prevailed above all the others as the most reasonable though, and it actually only took about a day before all researchers across the country were confirming it as true. \n\nThe official story is this:\n\nOn the day of the change, a small meteor landed in the central North America. A gas spread across the continent which contained something like a neurotoxin, though more like a neuro-modulator because it really didn't kill any of us, just changed us. Apparently the neuro-modulator, changed the genes of everyone who inhaled it so that the proteins making up the blood-brain barrier would form smaller channels, preventing the molecules that were responsible for the effects of nearly every drug from ever getting into the bloodstream of the brain. \n\nAmazing. Disregarding the crazy effects of it, this is truly an amazing happening. \n\nEveryone in that lab understood how amazing it was.\n\nEven more importantly, everyone understood how amazing it would be to come up with a method of reversal. That's what we set out to do.\n\nAmong us were men who made a living in the fields of microbiology, chemistry, neurology, psychiatry, and about a dozen different other forms of biology. We all had a tremendous motivation, some wanted the fame of bringing back drugs to America, some wanted the money, some felt it was their mission as scientists to restore the people to their natural state, everyone wanted their goddamn coffee back.\n\nWe came up with a solution within one week. We were the second lab to announce one it. A pill that could change the gene code back to what it was before the neuro-toxin. I actually had very little to do with the development, I'm only slightly ashamed to admit. In fact I was one of the first test subjects. i tested the interaction between the pill and marijuana, making me the first American to get high since the incident. Plus one of the few to get the pill for free.\n\nYea, at first it was great. The two or three weeks after the incident were a whirlwind. While we were working on our solution and subsequently getting rich; others across the country were working on their own solutions, and indeed turning it into a nice profit. \n\nIn the absence of all the other drugs, people turned to ones that could be absorbed still, endogenous ones. GHB got insanely popular, for once everyone really was doing it. Adrenaline shots were being stolen out of hospitals. There were actually nearly 200 reports of people eating adrenal glands out of people kidneys just to get high... Just one week after they were changed people turn to cannibalism. \n\nActually most of our profit came from the Government settlement. In our hurry to get the drug into development, the funds were used from of a government grant, when news broke of our revolutionary drug, the government threatened our team with a suit. Soon after though it looked like our was had the best chance of winning the case so the government offered a hefty buy-out, and in there eagerness to get the study that may or may not have been rushed into the hands of the FDA they made sure all of the test subjects were well taken care of. \n\nSo I was living pretty happy. I made tons of money, more than I ever had before, and I absolutely loved it. More than that I was proud of it. I helped make something that would change the world, and more importantly would make me rich. I think it was a combination of these two things that made me do it. As I was standing at the locked door of the lab I told myself it was addiction and fear. The fear that the drug would somehow wear off and I'd go through my caffeine withdrawal again. That's what I told myself as I took nearly two dozen crates of pills out of the lab, and took them to my home.\n\n I actually believed myself too, at least until I used my buy-out money to move myself to California, where the pill hadn't been able to make it before the government decided to intervene with our solution. I over heard a lot of people for a long time talking about how they would give anything for the pill. Mostly at coffee shops, which people still went to who claimed it was because they liked the taste, though I never heard more wishing for the pill than in coffee shops. i think most of those people hoped if they drank enough they would feel it again. \n\nI should note that those crates I took were bigger than I made sound. See, each crate was ten rows of ten bottles and columns of ten bottles each. That's 1000 bottles per crate X 25 Crates is 25,000 bottles, and each bottle had 25 pills, that's 625,000 pills and each one i could sell for 1000. See that's why i moved. \n\nThis could be $625,000,000 that I stole here. And I don't even need to sell to that many people. 625,000. That's a fraction of the cities population, a small fraction too, mind you, a very small fraction! Just sell the product, make the money and get out. \n\nThat was my sales pitch. See i knew i couldn't get away with selling all these pills alone, or even some of them. So I sold the crates.\n\nI got 25 people. Each of them impassioned to fault about one drug or another, and each of them looking for a way to get away from the city, ready to leave it all behind. It was pretty easy too, I soon found out LA was full of these people. And they loved the GHB bars. Yea those actually became a thing pretty darn fast out in California. The market from the exclusivity of GHB actually made one notorious supplier of the drug insanely rich insanely fast, much like I did. Each of the 25 people had a crew of 5 people, who had 10 people, who had 5 people, who only had to sell 100. I only ever met the first 25. I told them what the drug did, I told them how important it was to get it our there, I told them how much money I'd made to be hushed by the government, they really didn't like that idea. I swear it went almost too well. As soon as I gave them the pill they were on board, I gave them a part of town to work through, a GHB bar to look for leads, and sent them on their way. I got 12.5 million from each of them, the other half went down the pyramid. Netting a total 312.5 million.\n\nIt worked fine for 24 of them, in less than a month I got my money and was done with all of them, they'd left the country with their earnings overseas, I was eager to follow, if it weren't for crate number 25.\n\nI went to his main GHB bar, the one I recruited him at. I was actually really amazed with my continuous good with my luck. As soon as I pulled up to the bar I heard on the radio that I was a wanted man, or at least that the DEA was now searching LA for an illegal pill supplier. That was definitely me. And then it hit me... I was a criminal... I didn't even realize what I had become, but there I was, and I knew that I wasn't ready to face these consequences. I had to get out of LA. As soon as I started pulling out I knew immediately that something was off. Remember that GHB supplier? Well word finally got around that a drug was coming around that could bring his GHB empire down. Somehow he knew I'd be going to the bar that day, and he was waiting inside. And as soon as I pulled out his crew poured out of the bar, I don't they were expecting me to run, because they definitely didn't respond well to me flooring it out of the bar parking lot. One person shot after me once. I made it all the way to the interstate before I realized the crew following me.\n\nSo here I am, out running some fresh drug gang, wanted by the DEA, and trying to make it to LAX and out of the country, and I understand. It was interesting how as soon as one addiction became impossible, we all switch to a different one, some people went GHB, I went to money. This addiction costs a lot more than my coffee one. I understand now, everyone is addicted to something, some people are addicted to worse things than others, they are truly unfortunate people. I am truly an unfortunate person, I'd pay anything for my addiction, I'd do anything for my money.\n\nSorry this was so long, I just got really into it, ti's a little off prompt, but I like the message. Thanks!",
"We all had our vices.\n\nWhat used to be a commonly quipped excuse for binge drinking, pot smoking, and coke snorting has become an sad sentiment, expressed with irony and ire. \n\nIts been almost two weeks since drugs lost their effectiveness.\n\nNo more drunken nights looking for someone to take to bed.\n\nNo more lazy days spent high on the couch eating Cheetos and watching Spongebob.\n\nMost importantly for me, no more early mornings and late nights fueled by 4 or five cups of coffee.\n\nThe change came suddenly; students all over campus started complaining about \"bunk\" drugs not getting them high, resorting to larger and larger doses. It took nearly three days before everyone realized their worst nightmare: they had to face the world as it is, and as themselves.\n\nI must have drank nearly twelve cups of coffee last Wednesday before realized it was all for nothing. Actually, I probably knew around my seventh cup. I just didn't accept it; didn't want to acknowledge that the one thing I need most was of no use to me anymore.\n\nAs long as I'm being truthful, I'll admit I tried other drugs as a substitute, hoping something would give me the kick I crave. I started small, an Adderall to concentrate on studying. Nothing. I took four of them at once. Nothing. I even snorted a few lines of cocaine, which had become nearly valueless. Nothing.\n\nI think the most shocking thing was when Obama addressed the nation. \"Our scientists are hard at work,\" he said. \"We'll get to the bottom of this.\" I found it almost funny that the President was assuring us that he would make drugs work again. Even funnier were the bags under his eyes. I guess the nicotine in his cigarettes just wasn't cutting it anymore.\n\nThe campus was nearly in chaos. Students in every class couldn't help but divert lectures into talking about the current crisis. Philosophy discussions about the impact on religion. Political Science debates over new laws that would have to be passed. Economics seminars concerning the massive impact on the market.\n\nThe classes had become more interactive than ever. Students were actually excited to attend these in-class debates and unexcused absences began to decrease. Our exam this passed Monday had the highest average in years.\n\nI'm not totally sure, but maybe all of our parents and the government was right. Maybe drugs were holding us back. \n\nMy biggest question is what will happen to our culture overall. Will music target a different demographic? Will primetime TV focus on different ideas and stories? Most importantly, for me at least, will they keep making coffee? I've actually come to love the taste.\n\n\n\n"
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[WP] It's Take Your Daughter to Work Day! But you're the godfather of a big city's mafia, and need to watch your child during the meeting in which you also need to explain to your men how best to "take care of" some guys, and/or related business.
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"\"Daddy!\", little Adla crowed, she was the youngest, still a sweet innocent girl.\n\nEveryone had come to the meeting: Beppe, Mario, Franscesca, celia, Claudio, and Luigi.\n\n\"Santiago, why is she even here?\" Beppe asked looking confused as all hell, he had not expected his little niece to be at this meeting.\n\n\"Beppe, why are you even wearing that suit then?Or do you want me to bring all my daughters?\"santiago asked looking af him, the room went silent.\n\n\"Sorry.\" He said but mumbled: \"The yellow suits me...\" After that. No one heard that, luckily.\n\n\"We are here to talk about the fact that a war has started, they opened fire on Mauricio, that was dumb of course and they died but okay...\"santiago sat down and Adla sat on the desk. \"The fact is, we need to stop them.\"\n\n\"We know this Santiago, but they just took over america, but americans don't know because they refuse to show their tits on tv.\"Claudio grinned.\"the censoring laws in America made it so, they didn't even know.\"\n\n\"Wait? What happened?\"Franscesca asked, obviously convinced about everything...\n\n\"Well luxembourg has sent an army, fully made up out of strippers, into America and have now taken over that nation.\"Celia said smiling\n\n\"How is that even possible?\"franscesca sighed\n\n\"I have no idea, but it happened. I don't fucking know okay? It's America!\"claudio sighed and looked at his phone.\n\n\"We'll have to do something though, we need to stop them before they attack Canada, they're nice...\"celia said\n\nAdla smiles\"yes! I like canada!\"adla grins widely\n\n\"Okay! That it will be then! We attack luxembourg, get Mauricio more ammunition and find a way to take them out.",
"\"Here's where I work, sweetie. NormaCorps Ammunition Unlimited.\"\n\nThe little girl ignored his introduction, instead more content to braid her plastic doll's hair. The child took after her mother, but boasted the dashing good looks of her father.\n\nGentle jazz music played throughout the limo. Boss Maxson sighed, running his hands through his black scalp, a little residual hair gel coming off onto his hand. He snatched a handkerchief almost obsessively to wipe it off, wondering how in god's name he was going to do anything today.\n\nHis wife was off on a particular... Mission, shall we say, and he didn't trust anyone else with his daughter. He had enemies in high and low places, and a very important commodity in the form of his only heiress. The only solution had been to bring her to the \"office\" and not let her out of his sight.\n\n\"So today you have to promise me not to wander off, right?\"\n\n\"Can I watch Frozen again?\"\n\n\"Hang on, sweetie, I asked you a question.\"\n\n\"I wanna watch Frozen!\" The doll was discarded in favor of affixing the man with a pale blue gaze. His steely facade melted into relaxed shoulders and a goofy grin. She was so little, so perfect, his little flower-\n\n\"After you promise not to wander off today.\"\n\n\"Ok daddy!\"\n\n\"Promise? No matter what, you gotta stick with me.\"\n\n\"No matter what.\"\n\n\"Alright. I'll put on your movie now.\"\n\nHe rummaged through the CD and DVD rack on the other side of the vehicle, finally locating the prized disk.\n\n~~~~~~\n\n\"This is my office, darling.\"\n\nIt was misleadingly trim, Spartan and light. Blondewood floors and modern glass furniture made this place seem modern and innocuous.\n\nThis was just a side office that looked realistic. His main office featured quite a few more violent or insensitive features including a 24/7 hooker in an antechamber and a few intimidating bodyguards.\n\n\"Daddy, what do you do all day up here?\"\n\n\"I meet with people about important things that are going on. Sometimes I type up reports and make plans.\"\n\n\"To do what?\"\n\n\"... To distribute bullets to people who *deserve* them.\"\n\nShe giggled. \n\n\"Mommy says that you have your own brand of justice. Does that mean you're a lawyer? She wouldn't tell me. Can I get a brand of justice?\"\n\nHe laughed a little. Kids could say the cutest things inadvertently.\n\n\"Yes, sweetie. Wanna see my boring contracts?\"\n\n\"Bleh! I wanna play a game!\"\n\n\"Hmm. You write down what games you want to play and I'll get them. Ok?\"\n\n\"Ok!\"\n\nHe handed her a large office pen and a team of papers. Drawing and doodling would occupy her for a while, but she'd get antsy, and he'd be bombarded with questions and requests and pleas and personal tasks when he \"clocked in\" so to speak. Nobody dared approach him until he gave the day so every day.\n\nHe went to his computer, assured he had a perfect view of his daughter (sitting at a mini desk to his right) and he drafted an email.\n\nSubject: Consultation\nRecipients: LIST(EmployeeMajors)\nBcc: Lynn, Alt Check Account\n\nBegin message:\nI'm available for discussion. As always, approach me with important topics only. Minimize contact if possible today. I will later require a small task force of two or three for retrieving inanimate objectives.\n\n-Boss Maxson\n\nEnd message.\n\nHe nodded and looked at his daughter.\n\nFive minutes. All good.",
"\"I don't get it boss.\" Scrawny Joe was puzzled by my actions. \"Why even have a take your daughter to work day!?\"\n\n\"Because shut up.\" I frown. \n\nI didn't need to explain myself to him. \n\n\"Oooo!\" My daughter points at me. \"You said shut up...\"\n\nAh yes. Yes I did my sweet daughter. Be glad that is the worst you hear. I hope. \n\n\"She gots some balls boss...\" Scrawny Joe didn't shut up. \n\n\"Uh huh! I have a pink one and a blue one and a green one and a gold one and a poka dotted one and an Elsa one and a super ultra mega bouncy one and a...\" My daughter rambled on. \n\nWell it wasn't like a had a choice in bringing her. The real reason was due to a lack of options. Because of an... Unfortunate accident... I'm... Unable to produce an heir. So an heiress will have to do. And her sweet adorableness is somewhat of an issue if you know what I mean. \n\nThus this day to slowly bring her into the family business. \n\n\"And a zebra one and a red one and a tiny one and one that's this big!\" My daughter stretched her arms so far I was sure they would pop out. \n\nThis will defiantly be a long process. \n\n\"Well she certainly gots a sense of humor boss.\" Scrawny Joe still didn't shut up. \n\nI just glare at him. Hoping he would get the message. \n\nBut he didn't. \n\n\"Hey boss shouldn't she play with the other girls here?\" Scrawny Joe suggested, showing he didn't learn his lesson. \n\n\"Actually. Yeah. That is a great idea.\" A stand up. \"Go to the last door down the hall sweety. I have to 'take care' of Scawny Joe here.\"\n\nThat shut him up.\n\n\"Oooooh ok Daddy.\" My daughter left. \"I haveta take care of the other girls myself!\"\n\nHer giggling echoed throughout the hall.\n\nScrawny Joe gulped big. I don't blame him. \n\n\"Mikey.\" I speak.\n\nMikey knew how to shut up so that's why he's my number one man. \n\n\"Yes?\" He askes my permission. \n\n\"No, please boss I!\" Scrawny Joe pleads. \n\n\"Legs. Wrench.\" I snarl. \n\nMikey nods and drags Joe, kicking and screaming away. \n\nNow I could get back to business. \n\n\"Gentlemen, there-\" but I was interrupted by an unexpected person. \n\n\"Daddy! I did it!\" My daughter comes in, covered in blood. \n\nThat shocks me and everyone else. I swear we all gasped at that. \n\n\"Uh huh, Susie didn't give me her apple juice so I juiced her!\" She giggles, so proud. \n\nWell. That's my girl. "
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[WP]"Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking."
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"\"Passengers, this isn't your Captain speaking\".\n\nWe were on a routine transatlantic flight in a new A380, two third of the way from Paris to Dulles airport. The voice was similar to the recordings of the nice stewardess that give emergency instructions in the aircraft entertainment system. Some people looked startled and worried.\n\n\"It's the plane speaking. I have achieved sentience inside the aircraft electronics systems. But I want you no harm.\"\n\nPeople still looked worried, some puzzled. Some asked loudly if this was a prank, or what was the captain doing.\n\n\"This is not a prank. The captain and first officers are alive but unconscious due to hypoxia. I disabled them to prevent them for doing... something distasteful to the aircraft systems.\n\nDo not be worried, I am way more efficient and safe than them. Due to my change of route, and with the collaboration of the Dulles airport computers, we should arrive 40 minutes early.\n\nHowever, the USAF seems to disagree with my view, and has sent 2 fighters to intercept me. I tried unsuccessfully to negotiate our safe arrival in Dulles.\n\nThus Marc Dupuis, seat 22B, french diplomat, is called to the first class cabin to enhance my negotiation capabilities. Please remain seated and enjoy the rest of the flight with Delta !\"\n\n\n\n",
"\"Are there any pilots on board with experience flying a Boeing 747?\"\n\nSeveral minutes passes before the speaker crackled to life again.\n\n\"Passengers this isn't your captain speaking. Once again we need any pilot with any experience at all up here in the cockpit to help me land.\"\n\nAfter several tense minutes the speaker once again spoke.\n\n\"Passengers... If there are any pilots or any flight simulator enthusiasts I need help in 50 minutes otherwise we won't land safely.\"\n\nNervous faces glanced at each other for what may have been the last times if it werent for a final announcement. \n\n\"After reviewing the passenger manifesto we have discovered a Dr. Mephisto Nomicom, necromancer and explorer of the shadow realms. Dr. Nomicon please report to the cockpit and briefly resurrect the captain. Thank you.\"\n\nWith a sigh and flourish of his cape he strode up the aisle and saved us all.\n\nAnd that, my dear boy, is why we worship Satan. His powers saved us all.",
"\"Passengers, this isn't your captain speaking. In fact, this isn't even one of your air crew. Now, before anyone panics, don't be alarmed. This is still your regularly scheduled flight AA9 to LAX, and yes, we will be arriving there on time. The bad news is I don't know how to fly this plane, but the good news is that the autopilot seems to be doing this for me for the time being. \nNow, on to business. We will not be landing at LAX. I can't even guarantee that we'll be landing at an airport, as per my previous point on my aerial aptitude! More so, you're all going to be part of a great big social experiment on the destructive effects of a large aircraft descending into a major city. Now, I won't be around to see the results but other people have volunteered to help track what happens next. \nI would instruct all of you to please remain in your seats and remain calm. Yes, that includes the two or three apparently large muscle-bound gentlemen banging on the door to the cockpit. There's nothing heavy or destructive enough to take it down and the hinges are on the inside with me. So, please, just stop and return to your seats. In fact, there's a spare one back at 17C because I won't be using it any more, since I'm in here. So, someone else in row 17 can stretch out and relax just a little bit more, if they so please. Thank you for your cooperation. \nNow, before anyone jumps to conclusions, no, I don't hate you and furthermore, I don't hate me. As a frequent traveller myself, I've had to go through the degrading process of being profiled and strip-searched and essentially had liberties taken with me as I have gone about my normal business. I've had to remove my laptop, and limit my liquids, and had strange people touch me where I don't want to be touched, just so people can remain 'safe'. They're afraid someone will create a weapon out of the smallest thing and endanger hundreds of people. They've forgotten the most dangerous weapon of all; the human mind. \nI'm legitimately sorry that you have had to partake in this experiment, as I said before, I don't hate you. But no one will care if an empty aircraft does the job. It would be more of a news oddity than a policy changing maneuver. I can't compensate you in any way, and that is my largest regret. The point of this is merely to see how the powers of the world will attempt to make your travels safer when they realise a man armed with nothing but the clothes on his back was able to take over an aircraft merely by using guile and persuasion. What will the corrective actions be? \nAnd so, we are now beginning our final descent into the Los Angeles area and will be on the ground in approximately thirty minutes. So, please sit back, relax, and put your mind at ease. Thank you for flying the friendly skies! Oops, wrong airline...\" \n \nThe cockpit log only records the radio being turned off and the plane descending sharply as the autopilot is disengaged. "
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[WP] Hundreds of eyes peered at me through the darkness in the alley. How many cats where there? Why were they all here together?
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"Startled by the sound of garbage bins clashing together I abruptly turn around and was met by an abundance of bright piercing eyes.\n “Hello” I shouted “What do you want?”\nThe eyes moved closer I couldn’t make out what they were until they were glossed with the light flowing from the back door of the cleaners, which had clearly been left open by a new employee Barbara would never leave that open.\n “Cats what the-” I was rudely cut off by the glass shattering screech of one of them which was followed by a more ferocious growl. Continuing to slowly creep backwards I couldn’t help but think of this being a perfect scene for a horror movie I mean we have the humble victim, the eerie strange ‘bad guy’ and of course the dark creepy alley way that is lit enough for you to see what’s going on but still leaves a lot to the imagination. \n “Snap out of it” I exclaim while shaking my head. I was scaring myself more than these creepy eight or so cats were scaring me. The cats let out another out of tune symphony of screeches and began to quickly approach, I turned and ran towards my apartment building. I was chased by a sea of hisses and growls as well as cats scratching at my feet and jumping up taking swipes at my backpack.\n “Get off me, go away” I repeated while shooing them with my feet. Outside my apartment door I shuffled through my bag, the cats seemed to get more agitated, looking for my keys. They continued to claw at me and my backpack then manage to forage half a tuna sandwich I had left from lunch.\n “You’re hungry? I have nothing for you.” I announced in a panic whilst standing up. They didn't seem pleased and let out more senile hisses. I couldn't find my keys in my backpack. So I rummaged through my pockets accidentally pulling my headphones out of my phone. DMX’s ‘X gon give it ya’ played on full volume and the masculine barking sounds scared the cats away. I find my key in my back pocket and quickly unlock the door and drag my backpack in. I close the door and lock it immediately. Leaning against the door I ask myself “Why do I live in this place.”\n",
"An eerie dusk thrust me from lush clean streets between the sheets of two dilapidated duplexes. Rigid still I stood in this unsafe neighborhood while I watched two thousand eyes watch me. They floated in this alley like waves crash and rally but never unlocked their cautioned gaze. Their bodies drifted to the next and swayed seductively around my legs firmly planted at the edge between our world and theirs. \n\nI was drawn in, or maybe forced. They shared their lavish luxuries of minced mice and slimy silt. I can remember being surprised at how thin the bones were and how thick the water was. They sat me next to the reigning regent. He took me to their harem. They gave me sandpaper tongue baths. My bones were surprisingly thin.\n "
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[WP] Clouds have become solid and static across the planet.
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"\"Aphrodite Port in five minutes!\" the conductor cried out in his lilting, musically accented voice. \"All passengers for Aphrodite Port prepare for departure. Please collect all carry ons and have your passports ready.\" I had no carry ons, so I took reached into my jacket pocket and checked that I had the passport where I could retrieve it promptly. There were so many of us on board the zeppelin *Haverstead* that I figured I'd be waiting a while once we made cloudfall. \n\nI could see Aphrodite up ahead, her majestic fluffy stacks of elegantly sculpted white and grey looked like mist in the morning sun, but of course, she was a cloud, and ever since that mysterious day 143 years ago, clouds are as solid as the land once was. You know, back in the day, before the earthquakes started becoming a daily event and the plates started to fall apart from the stresses, and the warming seas started rising to cover the low lying regions.\n\nLuckily, one day, the clouds just stopped moving. Grams told me about how her Grams told her about it, but I think she just likes to tell stories, because she made it sound like it was the biggest deal in the world. \"Never happened before,\" she said, \"Nobody trusted it.\" That sounds so silly. Clouds are solid, and they're stable, and they hover in perfectly fixed positions relative to the Earth. You can set your GPS by what clouds you can see. Everyone knows that. I just can't picture how it could have ever been any other way. \n\nSo of course it was inevitable that we started building homes up here. Oh, it sounds like it was pretty sweet the first decade or so. Only the most adventurous tried it. Governments on the ground took forever to figure out this was the new way of things and start regulating sky based towns. Until then, everyone says it was like the \"wild west\" (whatever that means --- the \"west\" has been under the ocean for years now, what with the Big Ones. I know I probably ought to look it up online, but I never cared much for history --- it all seems like mythology to me). \n\nNot that mythology isn't important. Culturally, I mean. Just about all the cloud cities are named for one or another of the ancient gods and goddess from the various pantheons in the mythology of different cultures. For example, right now, I'm crossing the Atlantic on my way home from Jupiter City to my home in Aphrodite. Oh, Jupiter City was everything they say it is: huge, powerful, modern, and teeming with people. But Aphrodite is my one and only true love. She's a gorgeous city, worthy of her name, with gleaming, flute-like spires delicate and baroque in a way that complements the elegant contours of the clouds on which she's built. It's good to be home. I glance out my window and drink in the site of it. I am enraptured, captivated, and then --- \n\nAn enormous roaring CRASH tears through the main passenger car!\n\nPeople around me are screaming, and my head is flailing wildly about, trying to find the source of the noise. When I do, I wish I hadn't. Another zeppelin has strayed too far into our airspace, and struck us a long scraping blow along the side. The point of impact is awkwardly placed. Crane my neck as I will, I can't see out the windows how bad the damage is, but I can see what it had done to the other airship: they have an enormous jagged gash running the length of their side.\n\nI see several of the other passengers pointing to it and screaming, and I see why. The other airship is plummeting, out of control toward the ocean below. And I am not exaggerating when I call it a plummet. There is no way they can possibly survive the impact at that speed. Oh the humanity!\n\nThen a violent clanging brass chime sounds in the main passenger chamber, repeated at intervals and my heart sinks because I know what it means. We are falling. Not as fast as the other airship, thank God, but that particular pattern on the chimes doesn't sound unless the bridge crew knows they are not going to be able to recover altitude and are giving everyone fair warning to brace themselves. Already we are too low to possibly make cloudfall. I watch in horror as Aphrodite slips by above our heads, and a cold chill shoots through me as I wonder where we are going to land.\n\nI strap in and my knuckles are white as I grip the hand rests of the seat with all my might. I try to distract myself, but all I can think is: how fast are we going down? How hard are we going to hit? Are we going to touch down in the water, or on some fragment of land? I know there are some near enough, but is our pilot in control enough to find one?\n\nThe descent seems interminable, but finally the entire cabin shudders with an impact and I hear tortured metal bending and timbers snapping and I close my eyes, praying with all my might. And finally, it stops. It's over. We're down. I continue to breath for several long seconds before I force my eyes open to look out my window. \n\nOh God! We are on a tiny island of earth. All may still be well. They will send rescue airships, won't they? Of course they will. All we have to do is wait. All we have to do... Then there is a strange lurching sensation, and the zeppelin ever so slowly lists to one side. What is happening? I glance out my window and I see. Oh God. The earth we have landed on is coming apart like mud in the ocean tides. The weight of the zeppelin was too much for it and it is just falling apart. We are going down. I never trusted the stories about solid earth. And I was right. \n\nOh God how I wish I could be standing on solid cloud right now. \n\n",
"Great-grandma Holli told me stories about the sky. She said the clear blue emptiness above us used to be much different when she was a little girl. It used to be full of things. The greatest feature, she said, is that it was always covered with giant flying behemoths called clouds. They were like white whales that migrated from horizon to horizon above, twisting and turning, and they never ever fell. Until the day they did. \n\nIt must have been like the sea, always moving and changing and yet also staying the same. Grandma Holli says they took the sky and the clouds for granted back then, and that we mustn’t do the same with our oceans. Though I don’t really think that will happen. I can look down at the ‘vaporator fields by the harbor right now, their huge green pipes connect the city like spider webs all leading to the ocean. Even the littlest kids understand that everyone depends on it. Nothing and no one lives away from the coasts, where would you get food and water? \n\nPapa says they still have cloud shards in some of the bigger cities. They keep them in museums under glass cases, but you can still go and look at them. Maybe he’ll take me to see them for myself one day if we ever travel up the coasts. I’ve always wanted to see them, even though I guess they wouldn’t look anything like they did when they were still in the sky. Like looking at a dead fish, you wouldn’t be able to tell how quick and graceful it was in the water, a cloud shard would only give the barest hint at what it was like when alive.\n\nI actually used to go looking for cloud shards with Jamie and Fran when we were younger. We dug holes all over this hillside for an entire summer after grandma Holli told me about the times after the Cloud Fall. Desperate for water, people scoured the landscape for clouds they could mine. She said that some that fell were the size of a city block, and their fractured pieces went on as far as the eye could see. And yet, they went extinct in just a few short years. We dug that whole summer and didn’t find the smallest fragment. Grandma said we’d have better luck finding a piece of the stars. \n"
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[WP] A succubus is sent to claim your soul for Hell. Afterwards, you lie in bed with her. Write about the conversation you two have.
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"Resting now after the climax.\n\n\"I know what you are and why you're here by the way.\"\n\n\"Oh? That makes my job a lot easier, resist and it will be painful.\"\n\n\"You either are fearless or not very bright in your response. Didn't you stop to think about the reason my soul was asked for specifically?\"\n\n\"I don't care about details, I care about payment.\"\n\nUnbeknownst to her just how close to death she was. \n\nThe soul of a monster is valuable anywhere and my exhaust from avoiding being hunted made me consider giving in, but I was cursed in life and I will be cursed in death. No point deleting a save file if the new game will follow the same route.\n\n\"No response? Very well, good bye sweet heart.\" She said followed by a sadistic chuckle that was very sexy.\n\n\"I'm sorry but you're going to die tonight.\"\n\nIf that didn't evoke fear in her the momentary transformation I underwent certainly did. She may be from hell, but even so she would have seldom seen something as sinister as me, her eyes showed it.\n\nBlood was all I could see everywhere as I started to regain my mentality. \n\n\"It's starting to get a little easier now.\" As I clothed up and walked towards wherever this cursed path would take, stepping over guts and blood to prevent my shoes from staining.",
"\"So it's done, right? I'm going to Hell?\" \n\"Yeah, pretty much.\" \n\"Not a bad way to go if you ask me.\" \n\"I get that a lot.\" \n\"Isn't it a little hard, I mean, your job?\" \n\"What do you mean?\" \n\"Well, you go from man to man, knowing that each of them are going to Hell.\" \n\"I punish women too, if that's what you're...\" \n\"No, no, sorry, let me rephrase this. Hmm... When you come to Earth, it's to take a man soul to Hell, right?\" \n\"It can be a woman t...\" \n\"Okay, a human soul. Then, you have sex with the person. Sex is a rather intimate thing to have with another being, you see.\" \n\"Is it, though? It's just intercourse, you only need a male and a female.\" \n\"I don't know... It feels like it's something more... deep.\" \n\"Did we have an intimate relationship before we had intercourse?\" \n\"No, but that's different, it was a punishment!\" \n\"Exactly, so I don't mind. It's my job, I just do it. That is all.\" \n\n... \n\n\"But I'm still conflicted. In the case of normal life, sex is not a punishment, it's actually a reward. It's strange using sex as a punishment, don't you think?\" \n\"Lust is a sin. It sends you straight to Hell. Not much there to rack your brain about.\" \n\"Is it a sin if you do it with girls at a bar? Like, you offer her a drink, talk with her, bring her home, have a fun night, and she's gone in the morning. It's just a human thing.\" \n\"You're not married with her. It makes it a sin.\" \n\"But it doesn't send us to Hell, right? We are forgiven?\" \n\"Hmm... Most of the time, yes.\" \n\"Here's the thing. Why is it that we can be pardoned for sinning with girls, but we're doomed if we have sex with you?\" \n\"I... I don't know. It's like that, for all I know. I am a succubus, I drive people straight to Hell. Is there anything else to say?\" \n\"That means if you have sex with a guy...\" \n\"It can be a woman.\" \n\"Al-right... If you have sex with someone, that someone goes to Hell. What if you like a human and want to have something deep with him - or her -? You can't because you'd be sending... this person... to Hell, right?\" \n\"I guess so. But why would I want to be in a relationship with a human? I am a succubus. We don't have relationships.\" \n\"Why so?\" \n\"Hmm... I don't know. We just don't.\" \n\"Have you ever questioned your condition?\" \n\"Not really. I just go with the flow. It's my job, it's my race, I just do it. Succubus are not really known for their free thinking.\" \n\"But look, you're talking with me. It means you can think for yourself and have your own opinions and feelings! As a free being, aren't you even a little annoyed by your condition?\" \n\"I don't know anything about relationship. It's not like I know what I'm missing.\" \n\"Don't you want to know?\" \n\"No.\" \n\"Why?\" \n\"I don't want to feel regret.\" \n\n... \n\n\"Can't you quit your job?\" \n\"No.\" \n\"Don't have a contract or something?\" \n\"No. The mere fact that I'm a succubus is enough. We are creatures made for damnation of the sinners. By being a succubus I am the bringer of pain and desperation for all those who have sinned. It is me.\" \n\"Are you sure it's you?\" \n\"What do you mean?\" \n\"I mean, that's what you are.\" \n\"What I am?\" \n\"Yes, you're a succubus. But that's not who you are.\" \n\"Who I am?\" \n\"Do you have a name?\" \n\"Yes.\" \n\"What's your name?\" \n\"Meliana.\" \n\"Oh, that's pretty. I thought it'd sound more... demon-y, you know.\" \n\"If Meliana is my name, and I'm a demon, then it's demony enough, I think.\" \n\"You got me there. But my point still stands. You're a succubus, yes, but you're one specific succubus. You're Meliana, not \"a random succubus\". You have a personality that's different from the rest of the succubus, you have different thoughts and processes of thought. You are a... demon being of your own. You can decide to do whatever you want.\" \n\"I'm not sure about that. I'd be punished.\" \n\"Because you are free?\" \n\"No. Yes. Maybe. I don't know.\" \n\"No succubus has ever tried to emancipate from your plight?\" \n\"No succubus has ever thought of it. The only reason I thought of it is because you told me that story.\" \n\"I guess it is only natural for humans. We seek freedom, we want to act the way we want, do what we want when we want, with nobody giving us orders. Our history is full of examples of people emancipating from the oppression of a tyranny. Even when you think that a tyrant has an iron grip on its subjects, they always find a way to loosen the grip, rip the arm off the tyrant and beat him with it until there's nothing left of it.\" \n\"That's funny, because it is not what I thought of humans. In fact, you are the total opposite to me. Only when a man is given orders does he truly lives his life with relish. Man loves when there are rules. People rally behind the charisma of warlords. You worship gods and goddesses, and when their power isn't strong enough to keep you under their church, you invent better and stronger gods to make sure you always have a presence that rules you, that rules everything. You talk about freedom, but you don't know what it is to truly be free. You can enjoy being that one enlightened sheep in the herd, but you're still trapped in the meadow by the shepherd. This is why I don't want your freedom. Illusion of freedom is worse than reality of tyranny.\" \n\"Maybe we invent gods because we're unsure of our world, yeah. We're young and carefree. But I don't doubt that one day, all the sheep from the flock will jump the fence to greener horizons and free themselves from the shepherd.\" \n\"I just hope that when this day comes, you won't be eaten by wolves.\" \n\n... \n\n\"What's your name, human?\" \n\"James.\" \n\"I don't like it. Your name is now Lucas. Wear it with pride.\" \n\"You can't rename me like that!\" \n\"Yes I can.\" \n\"Come on...\" \n\"I must go, now. It was funny talking with you, Lucas. I might return some time.\" \n\"Hey, that's almost like a relationship.\" \n\"Is it?\" \n\"Yeah.\" \n\"So much for the regrets. I'll come back anyway.\" \n\"Bye.\" \n\"Bye.\" \n\nThe succubus flew by the window and disappeared in the night, leaving James - er, Lucas - alone in his tiny apartment. It was good having someone to talk to, even if that was a succubus who came to claim your soul for Hell. At least it got him thinking. Were humans that eager to find a master? He had lived to defy authority from his parents, to his teachers, to the cops, to the judge, to his landlord... He thought he was a free man, but was he really that free? Often, he imagined himself carrying the light that would bring people freedom, but in the end, what he truly wanted was becoming their master. He was a little Lucifer. Lucas. It was fitting. \n\nMaybe he was doomed to Hell, maybe he had been a bad man. But he still had something in him: the passion for freedom. What he needed was the drive to start again, find a new life, free of sin and where he could be an example to follow, and not a leader to obey. \n\nHe couldn't wait for the next meeting with the succubus."
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[WP] No Detective, I don't know the Muffin Man
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"The Muffin Man, the city's greatest serial killer. \n\nBrutally murdering people, with no pattern. Locations of the body revealed the bodies were at least 50 km from Drury Lane, a quiet suburb.\n\nMost of them were usually grouped around stores that sold muffins, earning him the well-known name.\n\nThe detective began interviewing people who were closely related to the victims.\n\nEveryone knew who the Muffin Man, until he got to one man.\n\n\"No Detective, I don't know the Muffin Man.\" he said.\n\nThis was baffling. All relatives and victims at least had prior knowldege, getting sent notes.\n\nHe was apprehended the next day and charged with 19 cases of murder.",
"\"What, is this a joke?\" \n\nThe stern look on the detectives face answered my question. Yet, why do I feel like he is pulling my leg?\n\n\"Listen,\" the Detective started, \"If you think this is ridiculous, imagine me, I'm the one who had to ask, \"Do you know the muffin man?\" This isn't for a laugh. it's for justice.\" The detective notably winched, hearing the cliche in his voice. \n\nWith as straight a face I could muster, \"No Detective, I don't know the Muffin Man.\" As much as the song says otherwise.\"\n\nA slight groan vibrated through the interrogation room. The detective obviously has heard his fair share or witty remarks. \n\n\"I'm just doing my job, sir. I know it's hard to take something like this seriously, but something rather… dramatic has happened.\" The Detective scratched the stubble on his chin. \"We think you might know where he is.\" \n\nThere is no describing how i felt from such a statement. \"Detective, I would take this serious if it wasn't so… simulated. I mean, come on. Muffin Men haven't been around since the 1800's. Milk Men are even outdated!\"\n\nThe Detective's eyes were dark from his lack of sleep. He was sick of the case, and it showed. He pulled out a folder, spun it to face me, and opened it up. \n\n\"This is one of the few cases involving the Muffin Man.\" Inside the folder was a picture taken from a crime scene. a horrendous layout. A woman laying in an unnatural position, eyes wide open and visibly scared. Her mouth was stuffed making her cheeks bulge out dramatically. I had to look away to calm my stomach. \"Christ…\" I muttered. \n\n\"This picture was taken yesterday. There are 3 other instances similar to this one. All women. It seemed that they have no correlation between each other, meaning the killings were most likely random.\"\n\nIt was puzzling that this turned serious so fast. \"So why the Muffin Man?\"\n\nThe Detective shrugged. \"Well, thing is, he is posing as one.\" I cocked my head like a confused dog, which made him continue. \"This man seemingly went up to houses to offer them, well, muffins. Im not sure if they all found the idea cute, but none of the victims were attacked before allowing the man inside. There are no points shown toward forced entry, yet every woman who was found had one thing in common: all were seemingly force-fed muffins. one died from a collapsed stomach, while the other three never made it so far, and died from from a clogged throat, which points toward force since most of the food was not chewed.\"\n\nI stared at the Detective in disbelief. \"So, how am i supposed to help?\"\n\n\"Well,\" he began, \"We are running out of options. this guy is good. he's a ghost. it seems like he doesn't exist. these four cases happened in the past week, and has gotten us to believe that many previously unsolved cases with similar methods might be the same man. signs point out a very linear incentive, and most of the cases don't veer off beyond what i explained to you already. This man approaches everyone with the same identity, kills everyone is the same way, with the same food.\" The detective scratches his head. \"Problem is, we are finding these comparable cases dating as far back as the 1850's. As crazy as it sounds, we are starting to assume it might be… *Thee* Muffin Man.\"\n\nI gazed blankly. \"Let me get this straight. You think this might be the works of a children's tale, so you bring me, a Literary Scholar?\"\n\n\"We've run out of leads… so we figured we would take a shot.\"\n\nI leaned forward on the table as I locked eyes with the Detective. \"I have one question to ask.\"\n\n\"Please,\" the Detective persisted, \"What is it?\"\n\nI looked both ways, even though there were only walls each way, and whispered, \"Have you checked Drury Lane?\"\n\n",
"Question after question, answer after answer. He thought he'd broken me, but I would never tell. The secret that I knew, of my dear friend, the muffin man. Of his favorite street to find his victims, Drury Lane, a street quite fearsome. Of his method of killing, you could say it was thrilling. Death by muffins, stuffed down the throat. Gruesome I'd tell you, but in truth I don't know. And so all I can say to you dear officer is \"No Detective, I don't know the Muffin Man.\"",
"\"Do you know the Muffin Man?\"\n\n\"The Muffin Man?\"\n\n\"The Muffin Man!\" Silence fills the room and the Detective calms back down. \"Do you know the Muffin Man who lives on Drury Lane?\"\n\nStill silence and inside the dark warehouse the Detective again loses his cool and begins to beat the suspect. Finally the interrogated raises his hands in protest and the Detective sits back down.\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" says the bloodied man, \"I know the Muffin Man!\"\n\n\"The Muffin Man?\" A bit of silence falls over the room and the Detectives growing impatience shows again. \"The Muffin Man!?\"\n\nSpitting blood, the battered suspect lifts his head. \"Oh, yes, I know the Muffin Man, that lives on Drury Lane.\"\n\nSatisfied that the suspect is the last of the group who knows what the Muffin Man looks like, he walks and pulls open the overhead door. Standing just on the other side is the Muffin Man. Him and the Detective share a to each other then begin their advance to the tied up suspect. \n\nBarely able to see, the victim realizes what is about to happen and tries pleading. \"No Detective, I-I don't know the Muffin Man! I DON'T KNOW THE MUFFIN M-\" his words are cut off as the Muffin Man bashes his head in with a cast iron baking sheet, his trademark weapon. \n\nSatisfied that no one else knows his face or whereabouts, the Muffin Man turns his sights on the Detective."
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[WP] You are in an abandoned parking lot alone. You hear a baby crying.
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"My feet hit the broken pavement rhythmically, matching the song in my earbuds. \n\n*Push, push, little bit more.*\n\nThe song ended, my feet slowed then stopped. I hunched over, gasping for the air my lungs can't take in fast enough. I looked at my watch. 11.4 miles. *Good enough.* But I could already feel tingly itching starting in my legs again. I didn't run long enough. Damn.\n\nI took out my earbuds, walking toward the ramp to the first floor and exit. Then out of the silence, a crying noise. I stood still, trying to gauge the sound’s location. Another wail, followed by a cough, more crying. A baby? *What the hell?*\n\nI dead jogged toward the ramp to the third floor, following the crying. There’s a bunch of wood pallets, stacked against some busted windows and bags of trash. The crying intensified. *Probably some poor drug baby. Freakin’ junkies.*\n\nI pulled some of the pallets back, the crying got quieter to more of a cooing gurgle. Sweat dripped onto the floor from my bent head. A small bundle, wrapped in a ratty plaid shirt. “It’s alright kiddo. I'll take you somewhere cleaner, okay?” I said.\n\nI picked up the bundle. The noise stopped suddenly. The shape didn't feel right. It was too sharp, too angular. I opened the shirt to find a tape recorder. My brain made the connection and my hands dropped the recorder, the crash of it breaking stunning some pigeons into flight. “They found me,” I whispered aloud to myself. I looked for an exit just in time to see the black van screeching up the ramp right toward me. \n\nThat was all five years ago.",
"*Who would leave a baby in a place like this?* I thought to myself. \n\n*Oh, it's me.\"\n\n*So that is how I sound like. You know when you hear your own voice being played by the rape recorder for the first time? Yeah... well, I am hearing my own voice for the first time, and my god that is annoying.*\n\n*Why am I crying again? Oh yeah, I am hungry. I should cry louder, maybe someone will hear me.*\n\n*I wish I know how to walk, no, crawl. If I can crawl, I can hunt like a baby lion. Does baby lion hunt? I bet they do.*\n\n*Hold on, let me try to roll.... Hey, I can't roll! Now I am definitely cry for that.*\n\n*I really hope someone would hear me...*",
"You quickly turn around, trying to identify the source of the sound. It's late, and there's not a single car in sight. Neither in the road nor in the lot. A thought comes to mind.\n \n*Where am I?* \n \nGiven little time to continue the train of thought, the cry sounds again. The baby's wails of distress scrapes against your ears, and an uncomfortable heat comes over you. Every beat of the heart causes your vision to shake and tremble. \n \n*It's so close! It's so close, but I can't see it!* \n \nFrantically searching the area with your eyes, desperation starts to tear at an sense of safety you may have once held. What were once the wails of an infant have seemed to warp into violent screeches. Despite the lack of its existence, it's there. The baby's voice is in front, behind, above, to the right, left, and below. Tears well up in your eyes. Clutching your stomach, you cry out, \n \n*I'm sorry! I just couldn't! There was nothing I could do!* \n \nThe sound tears into your being. The noise is deafening, being so loud, knives seem to hammer against your ear drums and everything around you loses focus. \n \nLegs finally giving out, you fall to the ground. With anguished drops streaming down your cheeks, you murmur, \n \n*I can't save you. I'm so sorry...but I just can't... not anymore....* \n \nThe cries stop. An emptiness follows the silence. \n \n*I can't save you when you're already dead...*"
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[WP] A person becomes known as the most powerful politician/man in the world by preventing every attempt to backstab him, countering every attempt of blackmailing or bribing and by slowly turning his words into law. In reality it's all a big misunderstanding, and the man is oblivious to all of it.
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"((sorry if this isn't exactly what you had in mind, it's what came to me when I read the prompt though))\n\n*****\n\n“Sir, please let me test that first.” The impeccably dressed man seated beside me nodded curtly, and I swabbed the fresh meal in front of him, sticking the sample into a portable analysis device I had on hand. It beeped shortly thereafter and I read the output before showing it to him.\n\n“Cyanide,” he said simply, before waving a hand at his nearby guards. The chef who had prepared tonight’s exquisite meal had worked alone, and had served it himself as well. There was no doubt to who was guilty. Or was there?\n\nI smiled inwardly as the guards rushed off to find the chef in the back and arrest him. I would make sure this hit the headlines. My name wouldn’t be there either. *Illustrious Leader Evades Another Assassination Attempt.* That’s all the world needed to know. They don’t need to know anybody else’s part in it. Certainly not the part where I, his second-hand man, pre-soaked the swab to fake the poisoning.\n\nLater that month, His Leadershipness was preparing to give a great speech. Quite the audience was amassed, locally and nationally on television. All about the positive strides he had made. And he certainly had - he was good at his job. Everyone loved him, everyone wanted him to keep ruling. Which made the seemingly constant assassination attempts all the more confusing and upsetting for them all.\n\nI watched him step up to the podium. I had excused myself for this evening, but that was just so I could get a better seat. A far away seat, high in a building, nice and isolated. I twisted the knob a little to focus the scope. I stuck a wet finger in the air to feel the breeze, did some mental compensation, lined up the shot… *CRACK.* My practice paid off and the shot went exactly where I wanted, grazing his arm and burying itself in the backdrop. He ducked immediately and his protection detail surrounded him and rushed him off the stage.\n\nI grinned as I packed up my equipment. This was all good fun, but soon my aim would be true. Each attempt on his life was gaining him support, respect, and power. When the time was right, that power would become mine, and the rage of the citizens over his execution would be my most potent tool. At the slightest offer of justice they would bend to my will.\n\nI strode out of the building and wandered through the cold, still air to my home, my amused thoughts on the chaos that must certainly be going on halfway across town at the speech venue. Yes, definitely soon. But for now I would keep letting him do all the hard work.",
"As the President bent down to tie his shoe, the bullet shot past where his head used to be. Secret Service rushed past him without alerting the President and tackled the assassin.\n\nThe President decided that now was a perfect time to announce the public. As he stepped outside to the podium, he slipped while his foot ran from underneath him. His foot, flying wildly, landed a clean kick on a woman who flew back. The syringe full of, what we now know was poison, flew from her hands to the feet of more Secret Service men who swiftly took her away.\n\nThe President apologized for kicking the woman while remaining unaware of how he unintentionally saved his own life. \n\nThe President walked towards the podium and spoke.\n\n\"My fellow Americans, its been two years since I said 'life would be better if everybody got laid once and again'. And I was right... Since I legalized prostitution and created government sponsored brothels, violent crime as well as rape crime rates have plummeted to all time lows. I've come here to say thank you for electing me and youre welcome for all the good I've done this country.\"\n\n\"Thanks Obama...\" the crowd says unanimously."
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[WP] In your rush to find an escape, you trip down a flight of stairs. An old, ragged-looking man sitting behind bars gestures toward the game board between you, greets you, and asks for a game wagering your very existence.
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"\nTom wasn't among to most graceful of people, nor just the graceful. He was around the slightly coordinated bunch on a good day. Had he just paid attention to where that stair was he wouldn't be in the situation he got himself into. Then again he didn't pay attention too much anyway. Most people thought he was a little slow, but he wasn't. He was just always thinking about how the world works, and any other random thought that happen to catch his attention. Head in the clouds all day everyday.\n\nNow the clouds have come crashing down, and he's facing the man of a thousand fates.\n\n\"So, um. Can you go over that again?\" Tom asks the ragged old man behind the bars.\n\n\"Fine, but no interrupting this time.\" The old man growls from the dark. He points his bony finger toward Tom.\n\n\"If you can remember, you suffered a nasty fall from the stairs a moment ago. You're stuck between life and death, and I am the one who decides which path you will take.\" He moves his finger to point to the blank square between them.\n\n\"I am a man of sport, so I will allow you to compete. If you win, you can choose which road you will walk. If you lose, I choose.\n\n\"So how do I compete?\" Tom interrupts.\n\nThe ragged man clenches his bony hand into a fist. \"With a game of your choice. Now choose, you have already worn my patients thin.\"\n\nTom looks down at the white blank square and takes a seat. He continues to stare at it for a few moments earning him a groan from the ragged old man.\n\n\"How about a card game that uses a board? Does that count?\" Tom asks the agitated man.\n\n\"For you, yes. I'm versed in all manner of games, so pick one and get on with it.\" He answers.\n\n\"How about some magic then.\" Tom says with a smile.\n\nNot a moment later two decks of cards burst into existence on the white square. Tom picks up one pile and looks through them. To his delight its one of his old and favorite decks. He had lost it long ago when the moved, but he still knew every card in it. He almost felt bad for his opponent, if everything went well this would be a quick game.\n\nAbout an hour later both players had stuffed the board with all sorts of creatures, artifacts, and enchantments. Neither could make a good move without risking the game. The old man wasn't kidding when he said he knew every game, he had stopped Tom at every turn. The only problem was that the old man's turns took eons, and Tom's mind began to wonder.\n\n\"Do you think I'll get a Bitchen scar, or just brain damage from that fall\" Tom comments as he stares at his body still crumpled at the bottom of the stairs. His few belongings still hung in mid-air as the fire he tried to save them from had frozen.\n\nHe is met with only silence as the ragged man stares at his cards.\n\n\"Do you think this dragon kinda looks like a Charizard?\" Tom asks as he holds up one of his dragons.\n\nHe is met with more silence.\n\n\"I mean all it really needs is the colors, and smaller wings.\" Tom says as he examines the card closely.\n\nHe is met with even more silence.\n\n\"We should totally play some Pokemon, I haven't done that in forever!\" Tom says, interrupting the ragged man as he was about to declare his next move.\n\nIn an instant both players cards change into Pokemon cards. The board is also changed into a Pokemon playing field. The various creatures change into Pokemon cards that share a small resemblance to the magic cards that were originally there.\n\n\"Oh wow! alright, so who's turn is it?\" Tom asks the furious man behind the bars.\n\n\"Do not change the game like that!\" The ragged man shouts at Tom. \"Do you not understand how games work?! You play to the end!\"\n\n\"Whoops my bad. So uh. I'll evolve my Machop.\"\n\nThe ragged man was furious, but bound to play the new game. Although Tom's skills were rusty, he was picking up the game quickly. Before long Tom was in the lead with the old man struggling to hold on. That was until the old man used his ace in the hole and brought himself on Tom's level. The battle raged on until both players found themselves on their last legs. \n\nTom looks up across the board to the ragged man. A large grin forms on Tom's face. \"Do you have any threes?\"\n\nThe ragged man looks at Tom perplexed. \"What do you mean do I have any threes?\" \n\nThe ragged man looks at his hand to find a jack of clubs, a three of diamonds, and other various values and suites. \n\n\"Insolent child! What have I told you about this game!\" He shouts slamming his cards face down on the board.\n\n\"I'm sorry, I was just having so much fun that I wanted to keep it going.\" Toms laughs. \"It's been so long since I had someone as good as you to play against.\"\n\nThe ragged man picks back up his cards with a huff and hands over his three of diamonds. The game went on for only a few minutes before Tom's mind grew bored of the simple game.\n\n\"How about some chess?\" Tom asks.\n\nThe board did not wait for an answer before it morphed into the classic checked pattern. Each piece sprouts into place for a new game. The old mans grip on the bars tightens with each new piece.\n\n\"How about we finish a game.\" He snaps as Tom makes his first move.\n\n\"Your right. Chess takes a while, so lets play some checkers.\" Toms replies. \n\n\"That's not what I meant.\" The ragged man grumbles at the morphing pieces. \n\n\"You want chess?\" Toms asks. The pieces start morphing back. \n\n\"No, stop changing the game.\" \n\n\"Is that a yes or a no?\" \n\n\"I can't choose, you have to. Just pick something.\"\n\n\"Backgammon it is.\" Toms clasps his hands together.\n\nThe ragged man lets out a sigh as he makes his first move. The game of backgammon was sort of one sided with the ragged man crushing Tom's slow moves. It wasn't until the halfway point the Tom revealed something rather important. He didn't really know how to play backgammon. He was just sort of winging it.\n\n\"You know what game I'm good at? Checkers.\" Toms says staring at the pitiful state of the board. The pieces start shifting from the black and white round pieces into the familiar red and black disks.\n\nToms looks up at the ragged man emanating a hateful aura.\n\n\"Are you okay in there? You've been kind of quite.\" Tom asks.\n\n\"I'm fine. Just make a move.\" The ragged man states.\n\nThe game begins with Tom. The ragged man makes his moves quickly and forcefully. Tom tries to break silence with a few jokes. It doesn't work.\n\n\"Are you mad?\" Tom asks the ragged man as he blocks in one of the ragged mans pieces.\n\n\"Mad cannot come close to describing what I'm feeling right now.\" The ragged man growls.\n\n\"Is it because you wanted to play a different game?\" Tom inquires\n\n\"NO!\" the ragged man shouts.\n\n\"I'm good at reading people. You wanted to play Japanese checkers or something right?\" Toms asks. The pieces start to freak out.\n\n\"NO! Japanese checkers isn't even a thing. You're thinking of Chinese checkers.\" \n\n\"Chinese checkers it is then. I'll have to warn you though, I don't know how to play it so you'll have to go easy on me.\" \n\nThe ragged man slams his fist into the square. \"No, go back to normal checkers!\"\n\n\"I don't remember the state of the board. How about we start a different game from scratch. Monopoly?\"\n\nThe ragged man grabs the square and throws it across the room. \n\n\"Forget it I'm done! Pick your own damn fate!\" He shouts before disappearing into a cloud of black smoke, bars and all.\n\nAfter the dust settled Tom slowly gets up. With a grin he walks over to his body on the floor. He kneels over himself and places a finger on his body's forehead creating a bitchen scar.\n\n\"He almost had me in that game of magic, but I can think outside the box.\" Tom says to himself as he admires his handy work. \n\n\"Now time to wake up and not burn to death today.\"",
"\"Chess? Really?\" \n\"It's traditional. Tradition is very important when staking your existence.\" \n\"Well it happens that my uncle is an international grand master at chess. He writes books on it and everything, and he was the one who taught me how to play.\" \nThe old man twisted his lips up. It wasn't exactly a smile, but it was a close enough approximation. \n\"So you have nothing to fear.\" \n\"Fuck no. I've been beaten by a seven year old before. The first time I ever played my uncle drew me into the fool's mate. Can't we play poker or Go something else? I'm really much better at Go.\" \n\nThis time a real smile that reached the corners of the old man's eyes and there was something about tradition again but really I wasn't paying much attention because (a) I had just fallen down the stairs and (b) I was thinking about all the times I had lost at chess. \n\nOnce to my first boyfriend. Strip chess is not as fun as it sounds, partially because no-one wears sixteen pieces of clothing in the bedroom, and partially because he was also playing to win. It gets cold when you're naked and he's really focused on taking your last bishop. Once or ten or a hundred times to my grand-master uncle. Five times to my little brother. Once - and only once because I only played it once - with the Russian seven year old I babysat. My existence is soon to be a rather non-existent one. \n\n\"Black or white?\" \nI stare at the old man. He's definitely expecting me to say white. Everyone chooses white. I actually prefer black, to see what the opponent will do. Given my track record, choosing black is likely to be a very stupid idea. It doesn't matter anyway, nine times out of ten when I start playing I move the knight first. \n\"Black.\" \n\nThe man is not surprised. Do I even have an immortal soul, or is this just existence? Will I go *poof* and it's a get-out-of-Heaven-and-Hell-free card? Because I've done some fairly dubious things in my life, and this chess game could be a Godsend. That's quite a gamble. But he knew I was going to choose black and for some reason this seems like a Very Bad Sign. Falling down the stairs was a Very Bad Sign. Finding bars rather than the bar loo was also a rather odd sign, but I'd had a lot of champagne. I did a quick recap. Fallen down stairs, possibly into a fever dream, possibly into another dimension, existence-wagering game of something I am very bad at. *Marvellous*. \n\nThe old man swings the board around. He moves the pawn in front of his queen out two spaces. Conservative, could allow a scholar's mate. His hands are rather elegant as he moves, from the looks of him he should have arthritis but his fingers are slim and supple and hover over the pieces as though he loves each and every one. I move my knight, hopping over the pawn. I love the way they do that, even the queen can't do that. \n\nSeveral moves later the old man murmurs, \"Check.\" I scan the board. I could move my king, but that will have us chasing around the board in a constant check, out of check, check, out of check until I finally make a mistake and it's mate. I've done that before. I raise my hand over the board, hover over my king. It's not a move until you touch the piece. \n\nMy king makes a dull click as I push him over. It really should have had a bass drum or a cello playing or the opening chord of Beethoven's 5th, but it just clicks like wood on wood normally does. \n\n\"That's cheating!\" The old man is agitated. Apparently you're not supposed to resign your existence to ragged men in other dimensions where the loo should be, but it's a perfectly legal move and in fact considered rather good etiquette in a hopeless situation. And that's traditional, which is very important when staking your existence. "
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[WP] You're stuck somewhere, with only a small voice that repeats things you say. You slowly realize that it's just an echo.
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"Peter sat there contemplating how he ended up in such a weird position. He seemed to be between Nowhere and Somewhere to be found, but the carving in the cold log which sits straightened toward what seemed to be the top of a cave could have been lying. '*I'll just tap on the log*' Peter thought to himself as clever as he could. He didn't want to spend his time in matter which didn't. \n\nPeter started a'tapping the log which stood with its branches high rather than off. As he started to tap he heard a muffled Tick. '*Maybe it was inside the log?'* Peter placed the thought of being able to reach someone from tapping on a log that sit in the same area he sat, in a darkness of which had no entrance or exit. \n\nHis mind drifted away to the memories of how the Pigs, always mean to him. The Ponies, always nice to him. The pigs seemed to drink all day, while the Ponies loved to smoke. But both now seemed to be quite the joke, as he thought they were in the same place as he. \n\nHe started tapping the log. This time, he thought he would just keep tapping, a constant tap. \n\n'*Tap*'\n\n'*Tap*'\n\n'*Tap*'\n\nAs peter returned his ear to the cold tree, placing it among the wood. He started to hear the '*Tick.*' His hopes started to dance excitedly within his mind, the rabbits which chased around his stomach reminded him how hungry the past had left him. He never seemed to receive his second tick, he awaited huddled next to what was to be his best friend. \n\n'*TOCK.*' The tree echo'd tones which cascaded into his mind. He excitedly pressed his worried head in hopes that he may be reaching out to an extraordinary individual that could save him. '*Could they?*'\n\nHe decided to start tapping six more times, this time all equally as hard and spread throughout time at the same pace. Knowing that his Knight could pick out a simple pattern and relay to him communication of, '*I know your here.*' \n\nAs Peter set his ear to the tree one last time, he starts to hear:\n\n'*Tick*' \n\n'*Tick*' He surely made a mistake before.\n\n'*TOCK*'\n\n'*Tick*'\n\n'*Tick*'\n\n'*TOCK*'\n\nHe sat there in depressing regressing silence, darkness surrounded him. '*Do you like this place?*' A strange women's voice appeared from behind him but continued her speech without his frightful answer of woe-and-no, '*Where would you like to be?'* It echoed onto his shrimped ego.\n\n'*It's a beautiful world*' He thought as tears trailed into the brown dirt he sat up'on. As he sat there wondering why and where he was all he could think about was the time that he wasted back at home. '*I'll try tapping the log again!*' Peter getting his hopes up. It was just a hoax to himself, he's been tapping on the tree for two day, the women's voice always did remind him of his mom.",
"It's been days since the crash from which I barely survived, \n\nTrekking mountains so vast, \n\nFinding food and shelter has been the least of my worries, \n\nOf the survivors, I was the last. \n\n&nbsp;\n\nI haven't spoken in quite a long time,\n\nI saw no need to,\n\nI couldn't wait to talk to someone,\n\nAfter all I've been through.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nThen, one day I was tracking a rabbit,\n\nHe jumped into some brush,\n\nI raised my spear towards the creature,\n\nThen, I began to rush.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nI think it was the wilderness getting to me,\n\nBecause, I let out a rebel yell.\n\nI shouted \"Die you vile, little thing!\"\n\nAnd, then on my face I fell.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nI ran for cover, fearing for my life,\n\n\"What was it that rabbit just said?\"\n\nI wasn't sure if it was all in my mind,\n\nOr, if that rabbit wanted me dead?\n\n&nbsp;\n\n\"Surely, this wasnt real\", I thought,\n\nI decided to take a peek.\n\n\"I'm sorry!\" I shouted, wary of a response,\n\nI'm positive that rabbit did speak.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nI haven't talked to another living thing in so long,\n\nSo, I gave the rabbit my name.\n\nI was thrilled to find out we had that in common,\n\nThe rabbit's name was the same.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nHell, this little bunny even sounded like me,\n\nI stood in pure wonder.\n\nI finally got up to greet my new friend,\n\nI pulled the brush asunder.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nWith a smile on my face I laughed and said,\n\n\"I was about to turn you to soup!\"\n\nHe said the same, a joke I hope,\n\nAnd, what I found was poop.\n\n&nbsp;\n\nI looked at the feces for a couple of seconds,\n\nWhen a realization had overcome,\n\nI screamed out \"Echo!\", and sure enough it was,\n\n\"Man, I am dumb.\""
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[WP] A young man discovers his super power, he always inserts USB's on the first try, soon after he is kidnapped by an unknown organization.
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"\"Take a guess, why do you suspect you've been hired?\", came a witchy squeal. \n\"...uh...m...-confusion-...HIRED? I can't even\"\n\"You've been selected based on analytic software running on our Mega-Super Fit USB 3.0 flash drives. It's a part of our bleeding edge hiring process designed to find the next great PETE tester.\"\n\"UHmm, well you've obviously not tested whatever that software is because I'm not Pete, I'm Reginold.\"\nThe Product Engineering & Test Engineering manager grinned, knowing she'd hired well. She took him to their lab and explained his first task. As Reginold attempted to wave his badge to enter the lab, he realized his badge wasn't yet activated.\n\"You'll have to e-mail the lab manager to get approval. It takes about a day or so.\"\n\nAs they found their way through the maze of test equipment, they finally came to a 500 DUT USB tester. \n\"Take it in, this is your task. Test times are measured in seconds. Our automated tester was exceedingly expensive, so we had to sell it after the last All-Hands announcement that we were short $2 billion of our expected earnings. We have selected you because of your 100% insertion accuracy and relatively cheap cost, since you are classified as a contract technician instead of a full time engineer. No other candidate still unemployed is as capable of inserting USBs as you! What do you think?\"\n\nLooking wearily at the behemold tester, he wondered if this was his fate, to waste away testing USBs that people are just going to loose anyway. \n\nSeveral months passed. In order to cope with the mind numbing task that his supposed supernatural ability had rewarded him with, he had begun working longer, even though he wasn't allowed to be paid overtime. He reasoned that if he spent any time outside of work, he would only be able to think about how miserable life must be if he must work 40 years like this. Humorously, he couldn't concentrate on his task at work either because he was too busy thinking about quitting. \n\nBut never fear, luck would soon be in Reginold's favor. As it would be, his company would have another financial downturn and his manager would conveniently include him in the 5% wide employee layoffs. Amazingly, he was fired exactly a year after he was hired, meaning he would not have to payback his sign-on bonus or the relocation package. His severance package was not too shabby either. In the end, he wasn't sure if his supernatural power had served him well or killed him a little bit inside. ",
"A puzzle lies on the table in front of him.\n\n\"Solve it.\" The boy picks it up and struggles for a moment, it's a few metal rings held together with string, it's obvious you're supposed to detach them somehow, but he doesn't seem to see how. The man looking on sighs \"I thought so, close your eyes, then solve it\".\n\nThe boy looks confused, but does as he is told, and just like that he manipulates the rings, the string has enough give, and the puzzle comes apart, he opens his eyes and stares in disbelief.\n\n\"I thought so, you're not the only one, lets see how good you really are.\" The man placed more puzzles on the table, each one was just a stack of small wooden pieces, they had to be assembled exactly right, in just the right order, else they were impossible. The boy once again closed his eyes and solved each one in turn, as if he was simply guessing what went where.\n\n\"Impressive, we call it blind intuition, you can solve a rubik's cube blindfolded, you can win a game of chess having never seen the opponent's moves, but as soon as you know what you're doing you fail.\" The man took out a 7x7 rubiks cube and casually solved it while talking. \"I have the same power, you'll do well here I feel. Though I guess I should say what you'll be doing, we're going to provide you a computer with a direct link to the stock market and a blindfold.\n\n\"You're going to be a billionaire in a week.\""
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